Bread around the world

 In teaching an ESL lesson about groceries yesterday, I learned the following about bread: several decades ago in Russia or Ukraine, bread was not already sliced when you bought it at the store. If you wanted a piece, you bit it off of the loaf. In Vietnamese, bánh mì [ʔɓan˦˥ mɪj˨˩] (literally snack-wheat = wheat snack) refers to long French-style baguettes, whereas our typical sliced loaves are called xăng-(đ)uých [saŋ˧˧ (ɗ)wɨt˧˥] (from 'sandwich'). (The IPA forms are Saigon pronunciation.) This reminds me of Mandarin Chinese, where 面包 miànbāo (literally flour-package) is for bread in general, whereas 土司 tǔsī (from 'toast') is for sliced bread, especially thick-sliced bread. It shows that different cultures have their own concepts of a food based on size, shape, ingredients, and use, and when a new foreign version is introduced, they are likely to borrow the foreign word for the foreign version.

Puzzle

Which looks more realistic? The top picture or the bottom one? 

I put this puzzle together over three evenings and a Saturday morning, with a little help from a housemate. It helps to calm racing thoughts. Sometimes I can see a piece and know where it goes, and other times I have to collect a group of white sky pieces or patchy tree-leaf pieces and try each one in succession on a particular spot until one of them fits. When it does, it's the best feeling in the world.

The question of realism is a question of focus. If we focus on the frame, that is, the tabletop, the top photo is more realistic because it shows the setting in which I put the puzzle together. But if we focus on the image in the puzzle, the lower photo is more realistic because it shows the truck and tree and flower scene more clearly. The top is a realistic image of an unrealistic scene. The bottom is an unrealistic image of a realistic scene. A picture within a picture. 

And what of the flowers painted on the truck? Are they realistic? I guess the question would be, "Realistic as flowers? Or as a painting on the side of a truck?"

Donald Miller, Joshua Harris, and the vow at Summit

 Joshua Harris and Donald Miller both served on staff at Summit Ministries in Colorado for a summer in their late teens. At the end of that summer, they made a vow along with five other guys to follow a list of moral standards for a year. They didn't keep the vow for very long, but their friendship continued, and they eventually wrote books and Facebook posts where they recounted different aspects of the same experience, but for different purposes. 

Read the excerpts below and ask yourself: how will I view today's struggles and friendships ten or twenty or thirty years from now? What have I learned from my struggles and friendships of the past? And how can I continue being a faithful, encouraging friend even when our perspectives have changed?

Donald Miller: On the discouragement of breaking self-imposed standards

Donald Miller (2003). Blue Like Jazz, pp.79-81

[Note: this memoir became an inspiration to the emerging church folks, young people searching for spiritual authenticity outside of the evangelical church they were familiar with. Miller has since stepped away from active church attendance.]

I was a fundamentalist Christian once. It lasted a summer. I was in that same phase of trying to discipline myself to "behave" as if I loved light and not "behave" as if I loved darkness. I used to get really ticked about preachers who talked too much about grace, because they tempted me to not be disciplined. I figured what people needed was a kick in the butt, and if I failed at godliness it was because those around me weren't trying hard enough. I believed if word got out about grace, the whole church was going to turn into a brothel. I was a real jerk, I think.

I hit my self-righteous apex while working at a fundamentalist Christian camp in Colorado. I was living in a cabin in the Rockies with about seven other guys, and the whole lot of us fell into this militant Christianity that says you should live like a Navy SEAL for Jesus. I am absolutely ashamed to admit this now.

We would fast all the time, pray together twice each day, memorize Scripture, pat each other on the back and that sort of thing. Summer was coming to a close, and we were getting pretty proud of ourselves because we had read a great deal of Scripture and hadn't gotten anybody pregnant. We were concerned, however, about what to do after we split up, thinking that if we didn't have each other we'd fall apart and start selling drugs to children. One of us, and it was probably me, decided to create a contract that listed things we wouldn't do for an entire year, like watch television or smoke pipes or listen to music. It was the constitution of our self-righteous individualism. The contract stated we would read the Bible every day, pray, and memorize certain long passages of Scripture. We sat around one night with pen and paper and offered sacrifices, each of us trying to outman the other with bigger and brighter lambs for the slaughter. We were the direct opposite of a frat house; instead of funneling our testosterone into binge drinking and rowdy parties, we were manning up to Jesus, bumping Him chest to chest as it were, like Bible salesmen on steroids.

I hitched a ride to Oregon and got an apartment in the suburbs where I didn't know anybody and nobody knew me. I had this necklace on my neck, this string of beads, each bead representing one of the guys in the contract, and a cross in the center, a reminder that we had all gone in on this thing, that we were going to be monks for a year. At first it was easy, living in a new place and all, a new city, but after a while that necklace started to choke me.

The first of the exploits to go was the Bible. It wasn't that I didn't want to read it or didn't agree with it, I would just forget. It sat on the floor next to my bed beneath a pile of dirty clothes. Out of sight, out of mind. I'd forget about it for a month until I cleaned my room, and then I'd lift up a pile of dirty clothes and there would be my Bible, staring up at me like a dead pet.

One evening I was walking around Pioneer Square in downtown Portland when I noticed a pipe and tobacco store across the street. I decided I'd step inside and take a look-see. I came out with a new pipe that I swore I wouldn't smoke till the year was up. It was a good deal, you know, about fifteen dollars or something. I couldn't pass up the sale on tobacco, either, even though it would go bad before the contract expired. I sat down in Pioneer Square with the skateboarders and musicians, chess players and coffee drinkers. I decided to pack my pipe, just to get a feel for it. I stuck it in my mouth to bring back that sensation, the feel of the stem between my teeth. Then I lit it. Then I smoked it.

After the Bible and the pipe thing fell apart, I decided to yield a bit on the television aspect of the contract. There was this indie pizza place down the street from my apartment, Escape from New York Pizza or something like that, and they had a big-screen television. I'd go down and watch Monday night football, which was a double sin because on Mondays we were supposed to be fasting. I figured none of the guys would mind if I switched the fasting day to Wednesday, just to shuffle things around. I shuffled so many fasting days around that after three months I was supposed to go twelve days without eating. I think I fasted twice that year. Maybe.

I hated the entire year. Hated it. I felt like a failure every morning. I hated looking in the mirror because I was a flop. I got ticked at all the people who were having fun with their lives.

I'd walk home from the pizza place feeling criminal for my mischief, feeling as though I were not cut out to be a Christian, wondering what my punishment would be for disobeying God. Everything was failing. I'd get letters from the other guys, too, some of them doing quite well. I wouldn't answer them. Not only was I failing God, I was failing my fundamentalist brothers!

Joshua Harris: On the discouragement of breaking self-imposed standards

Joshua Harris (2003). Not Even a Hint, pp.15-18, 21-22

[Note: at the time of writing Not Even a Hint, I think Harris was assistant to C.J. Mahaney, and the year after publishing he took over the pastorate of Covenant Life Church (Gaithersburg, MD) from Mahaney. Soon after, the book was sold at the booktable at Household of Faith Community Church (Gresham, OR), where his father pastored and where I attended. I listened to the audiobook in Thailand around 2015.]

Seven of us were gathered in the dimly lit living room. A single sheet of notebook paper passed slowly between each person. Finally, it came to me. I scanned the numbered list then solemnly signed my name at the bottom of the page.

The "contract," as we had come to call it, was a strict code of conduct, a list of promises that each of us was vowing to follow for the coming year.

We would read our Bibles every day.

Go to church every Sunday.

Memorize a passage of Scripture every week.

Fast every Tuesday.

Share our faith with one person each week.

We wouldn't watch any movies.

We wouldn't kiss a girl.

We wouldn't drink alcohol.

And we wouldn't masturbate.

Actually, I don't remember all the promises on the list. I think there were nearly fifteen. But I distinctly remember that the vow to refrain from masturbating was number ten on the list. That promise held the particular attention of each of us.

...I was eighteen years old. The other six guys ranged in age from seventeen to twenty-four. That summer we were working as counselors at a Christian leadership camp in Colorado. Carlos, Clint, and I washed dishes. Don, Brook, Jon, and Scot shuttled students in the vans. We called ourselves "The Stallions"--named after a cabin several of the guys lived in.

I can't remember exactly where the idea for the contract came up. I guess we wanted rules. We wanted to know we were pleasing God. The whole process of becoming holy seemed complicated to us, so the idea of reducing our faith to a manageable list of promises and prohibitions was appealing.

So there we were in Jon's parents' living room signing our names. After we were done, Jon took the piece of paper, placed it on the floor in the center of the room, and knelt beside it. "C'mon, guys," he said. "Let's seal our vow with prayer."

The whole thing was very dramatic. All that was missing was a rising orchestral theme playing in the background. We got down on our knees, huddled in a circle, and extended our right hands onto the sheet of paper. We closed our eyes and bowed our heads, then pledged before God to obey every rule on the list.

It was official. The contract was ratified. I felt sure that the angels in heaven must be leaning down in amazement, watching our impressive display of godliness and the sheer strength of will in the room.

A few days later, we all left for home. I was still basking in the euphoria of our religious zeal. Every generation needs men of courage, men of conviction, men of strength--men of God. I was one of those men.

The illusion lasted about two weeks. That's when I broke rule number ten of the contract.

The year that followed was a very humbling lesson in how utterly incapable I was of being righteous in my own strength. And I wrote "number ten again" in my journal more times that year than I want to think about. All my great ambitions, all my vows, all my self-efforts were revealed to be worthless.

...I can laugh now as I look back on that year under the tyranny of "the contract," but it really taught me some important lessons about the limitations of human rules and regulations to bring about real change in a person's life--especially in the area of lust.

...My failure to uphold "the contract" was my first clue that my method for resisting lust was misguided. To begin with, it was based on my own standard of what it meant to obey God. I created a rule I thought I could follow: I wouldn't masturbate for a year.

The result was that I placed my hope in the wrong source of power to obey--my own willpower and strength. I wasn't putting my faith in God; I was putting my faith in Joshua Harris and his ability to resist temptation.

My motivation didn't help either. Though it wasn't completely wrong--part of me genuinely wanted to please God--a huge part of my motivation was to "feel" like a pure person. I wanted to be able to say I hadn't sinned. I wanted to show God how good I could be and how worthy I was.

But of course it all fell apart. After I sinned again, my motivation crumbled. I didn't feel pure or worthy of God's love. My guilt made me hesitant to pray. So I tried harder to muster the willpower to stop lusting. This only led to more discouragement and frustration. Even when I revised my standards--"I won't do it for the next nine months!"--the whole cycle repeated itself again.

Can you relate? Do you see how getting our standard, source of power, and motivation all wrong leads to ongoing failure?

I wrote this book because I've learned that I don't have to live on this treadmill. You don't have to either. God's Word shows us how to get on the path to freedom. It shows us that the key to escaping the cycle of defeat is to embrace God's standard for holiness, His source of power for change, and His motive for fighting sin. 

Joshua Harris: On the deepening of faith

Joshua Harris (2010). Dug Down Deep, pp.21-22

[Note: at this point, Harris had been senior pastor of Covenant Life Church for six years, and was feeling nostalgic, realizing that he was grateful for the formative experiences that had challenged and deepened his faith, even though they seemed intense at the time, and even though his writings in his early twenties had laid blame on some of his early religious environments.]

When I was seventeen, I went to a Christian leadership camp in Colorado Springs. The students there were different from other Christians I'd met. They were serious, focused. That might have been the first time I was with a group of Christians who weren't simply trying to "outfun" the world. These kids wanted to outthink and outwork and outlove the world. They wanted to apply their minds to studying Scripture and gaining a Christian worldview. Many had a hunger for God and his Word that stood in stark contrast to my life.

In one session the camp director asked students to stand and recite passages of Scripture they had memorized. I misunderstood the request and at one point stood with my Bible in hand and read the passage. When I realized my mistake, I felt really dumb. I slumped back into my chair red-faced and embarrassed as others stood, one after another, and recited portions from memory. Worse than my misunderstanding was the realization that I didn't have a passage of the Bible memorized. My conscience was pricked.

Around that same time my girlfriend and I ended our two-year relationship. It was a significant moment in my spiritual life. I didn't realize till we broke up just how much our relationship, with its ongoing temptation to compromise, had been draining my spiritual passion. With the distraction and guilt of that temptation over, I began to pursue God in a way I'd never done before.

Joshua Harris: On the encouragement of long-term friendship

Joshua Harris (17 Jan 2022). Facebook.com

[Note: at this point, Harris has stepped down from pastoring, gone to seminary, renounced his former books, left his marriage, left his faith, and started a business-coaching consultancy.]

I’ve been friends with @donaldmiller since I was 17. We met while we were both working at a Christian leadership youth camp in Colorado Springs (any Summit alumni out there?). He was a counselor, I was a dish washer. When he moved to my hometown of Portland, Oregon, after camp, our friendship continued. We ended up working alongside each other, traveling, and dreaming of being writers. 

Thirty years later Don is still my friend and there’s a long history of him inspiring me, teaching me, and supporting me. When I decided to stop being a pastor he reminded me of entrepreneurial roots and encouraged me to launch my own business. When my marriage ended he didn’t judge or berate me. On a weekly basis I draw from his StoryBrand framework in my creative agency and his Business Made Simple video curriculum in my coaching. 

Don just released a new book called Hero on a Mission that uses principles from story to help you set clear goals for your life and, instead of playing the role of victim or villain, choose to be a hero on a mission.

I interact with a lot of people who have gone through significants shifts in their beliefs. And consistently they ask, “Where do I find meaning? How do I rediscover a sense of purpose?” For anyone asking those kind of questions, I’d highly recommend Don’s book. It’s inspirational, but also extremely practical. It guides you in creating a life plan and encourages you not to let fate write your story. It teaches you to set big goals and then break that down to daily choices. 

Don’t let discouragement, distraction, or confusion steal your story.

Mandopop worship: Lord, I believe

Update 3/24/2026: I found a version on YouTube with English lyrics by Steven Ngai. I've added them below in bold on the last line, and italicized my literal translation.

This afternoon while driving, I thought of this song from my Taiwan days, and pulled it up on YouTube Music. I've listened to it often, but only understood parts of it, and only today ran it through Google Translate to get the full translation and Pinyin.

[without English lyrics]

[with English lyrics]

Title

主，我相信

Zhǔ, wǒ xiāngxìn

Lord, I believe

Lord, I believe

Chorus

主我相信，主我相信，相信你的愛，你的應許，

主我相信，主我相信，你必成就關乎我的。

zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, xiāngxìn nǐ di ài, nǐ di yīngxǔ, 

zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, nǐ bì chéngjiù guānhū wǒ di. 

Lord I believe, Lord I believe, believe in your love, your promises,

Lord I believe, Lord I believe, You'll do it for me.

Lord I believe! Yes I believe / The promises and love / You've shown to me 

Lord I believe! Yes I believe / You'll fulfill Your purpose for me

Verse 1

萬世以前，在神裡面有一個奧秘，大哉，深哉，召人來作神的兒女，

在基督裡，藉著福音，同為神後嗣，同為一體，同蒙應許。

Wànshì yǐqián, zài shén lǐmiàn yǒu yīgè àomì, dàzāi, shēn zāi, zhào rén lái zuò shén di érnǚ, 

zài jīdū lǐ, jízhe fúyīn, tóng wèi shén hòusì, tóng wéi yītǐ, tóng méng yīngxǔ. 

Before all ages, there was a mystery in God, great and deep, that called people to be God's sons and daughters,

In Christ, through the Gospel, fellow heirs of God, fellow members of the same body, and fellow partakers of the promise.

Long before the world's foundation / God had laid a plan

Awesome and inscrutable / To make of sinful man

His own children who, through Christ / A portion would receive

And His promises would achieve

Chorus

主我相信，主我相信，相信你的愛，你的應許，

主我相信，主我相信，你必成就關乎我的。

Zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, xiāngxìn nǐ di ài, nǐ di yīngxǔ, 

zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, nǐ bì chéngjiù guānhū wǒ di. 

Lord I believe, Lord I believe, believe in your love, your promises,

Lord I believe, Lord I believe, You'll do it for me.

Lord I believe! Yes I believe / The promises and love / You've shown to me 

Lord I believe! Yes I believe / You'll fulfill Your purpose for me

Verse 2

神愛世人，甚至捨了祂獨生愛子，為我們作挽回祭，使罪人得稱義，

祂豈不將萬物，一同白白給我們，叫萬事為我們效力。

Shén ài shìrén, shènzhì shěliǎo tā dú shēng àizǐ, wèi wǒmen zuò wǎnhuí jì, shǐ zuìrén dé chēng yì, 

tā qǐ bù jiāng wànwù, yītóng báibái gěi wǒmen, jiào wànshì wèi wǒmen xiàolì. 

God so loved the world that he even gave up his only begotten son as a propitiation for us, so that sinners may be justified,

Has he not freely given us all things together, that all things may work for us?

God so loved the world / He gave His one and only Son

Through Whose blood Salvation's sanctifying work is done

Surely, then, life's blessings / And its trials He will weave

For the good of those who believe

Chorus

主我相信，主我相信，相信你的愛，你的應許，

主我相信，主我相信，你必成就關乎我的。

Zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, xiāngxìn nǐ di ài, nǐ di yīngxǔ, 

zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, nǐ bì chéngjiù guānhū wǒ di. 

Lord I believe, Lord I believe, believe in your love, your promises,

Lord I believe, Lord I believe, You'll do it for me.

Lord I believe! Yes I believe / The promises and love / You've shown to me 

Lord I believe! Yes I believe / You'll fulfill Your purpose for me

Verse 3

你已賜給我們權柄，踐踏蛇和蠍，勝過黑暗權勢，攻破堅固的營壘，

我裡面的聖靈，大過世上的一切，誰能使我與主愛隔絕。

Nǐ yǐ cì gěi wǒmen quánbǐng, jiàntà shé hé xiē, shèngguò hēi'àn quánshì, gōngpò jiāngù di yínglěi, 

wǒ lǐmiàn di shènglíng, dà guòshì shàng di yīqiè, shuí néng shǐ wǒ yǔ zhǔ ài géjué. 

You have given us authority to trample on serpents and scorpions, to overcome the powers of darkness, to break down strongholds,

The Holy Spirit in me is greater than anything in the world, who can separate me from the love of the Lord?

You bestow authority / Against the age-old foe

Darkness and his fortress / We have pow'r to overthrow

With Your Spirit in me / Conqu'ring all adversity

Who can separate Your love from me?

Chorus

主我相信，主我相信，相信你的愛，你的應許，

主我相信，主我相信，你必成就關乎我的。（x2）

Zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, xiāngxìn nǐ di ài, nǐ di yīngxǔ, 

zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, zhǔ wǒ xiāngxìn, nǐ bì chéngjiù guānhū wǒ di. (x2)

Lord I believe, Lord I believe, believe in your love, your promises,

Lord I believe, Lord I believe, You'll do it for me. (x2)

Lord I believe! Yes I believe / The promises and love / You've shown to me 

Lord I believe! Yes I believe / You'll fulfill Your purpose for me (x2)

Ending

你必成就關乎我的。（x2）

nǐ bì chéngjiù guānhū wǒ di. (x2)

You will do it for me. (x2)

You'll fulfill Your purpose for me (x2)

A study of the clinical "we" by E. B. White

Elwyn Brooks White. 1939. A study of the clinical "we". In Quo Vadimus? or The Case for the Bicycle. New York: Grosset & Dunlap, pp.136-138.

A recent article on grammar, which I read in a magazine, has led me to the preparation of a paper on the clinical "we." The clinical "we" is a bedside form in use among practical nurses, who find, in the sound of the plural, a little of the faded romance which still attaches to life. It is also used universally by baby nurses, who think of themselves in groups of four.

Unlike the editorial "we," which is a literary device used to protect writers from the fumes of their own work, the clinical "we" is simply a spoken form, and is rarely written. A baby nurse employs the "we" in the belief that no single person could have as much special knowledge as she has, and that therefore when she speaks it must be three other people too. Thus, when I once asked a baby nurse if she wouldn't please put a hat on my son before she took him out in a sandstorm which happened to be raging at the moment, her reply was: "We never put hats on him after June first." "You and who else don't?" I remember answering. It was my first clash with the clinical "we."

Since then I have studied it, not only in baby nurses but in dentists' assistants, ward witches, and the developers of X-ray plates. It is common to all of them, but hospital nurses use it to denote the patient, not the nurse. I know of one hospital case in which the sudden use of the clinical "we," in the presence of an elderly gentleman convalescing from an operation, threw him into a paroxysm which proved a serious setback to his recovery. It was early in the morning, and a pretty little Southern nurse, coming into his room, sang out: "We didn't change our pajamas this morning, did we?"

"No, let's do it right now!" replied the aged patient somewhat bitterly. The wry joke so excited him that he had to be given a sedative, and later a talking to.

It is probably apparent from the above examples that the clinical "we" can seldom be taken lying down, but almost always provokes a rejoinder. In hospitals the "we" is merely an unattractive figure of speech in a world of strange and unattractive details, but in the home it is intolerable. To live under the same roof with a user of the "we" is a fairly good test of a man's character. During the winter of 1931 I employed twenty-two baby nurses, one after another, before I found one who could make a sentence beginning with the word "I." I used to call them "we-uns." Every morning I would go upstairs to the nursery. "Morning, Nurse," I would say, "how you feeling?"

"We are just fine, sir," would be the courteous but silly reply.

"Canst make a sentence beginning with the word 'I'?" I would ask.

"We never make sentences that-a-way, sir," she would blush. So I would fire her and get another. Finally a little Irish girl named McGheogheoghan (pronounced McVeigh) came along, and one morning I went up and asked her how she was feeling.

"I feel terrible," she answered.

That nurse is still with us, and grows, I am happy to say, more singular every day.

How Stephen Olford influenced Jim and Elisabeth Elliot

In January 1948, 20-year-old Jim Elliot (1927-1956) and 21-year-old Elisabeth Howard (1926-2015), both students at Wheaton College, sat in a week of chapel meetings led by a 29-year-old Stephen Olford (1918-2004). On Friday, January 16, he preached on journaling and quiet time. Here's what each one had to say about the experience.

Jim

January 17, 1948

What is written in these pages I suppose will someday be read by others than myself. For this reason I cannot hope to be absolutely honest in what is herein recorded, for the hypocrisy of this shamming heart will ever be putting on a front and dares not to have written what is actually found in its abysmal depths. 

Yet, I pray, Lord, that You will make these notations to be as nearly true to fact as is possible so that I may know my own heart and be able to definitely pray regarding my gross, though often unviewed, inconsistencies. 

I do this at the suggestion of Stephen Olford... whose chapel message of yesterday morning convicted me that my quiet time with God is not what it should be. These remarks are to be written from fresh, daily thoughts given from God in meditation on His Word. 

- Jim Elliot, (Elisabeth Elliot, ed.), The Journals of Jim Elliot.

Elisabeth

A young British preacher named Stephen Olford spoke in our college chapel for a week. Two things he said stayed with me: He quoted from the Song of Solomon, “I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake love until it please.” He interpreted this to mean that no one, man or woman, should be agitated about the choice of a mate, but should be “asleep” as it were, in the will of God, until it should please Him to “awake” him. The other thing he urged was that we should keep a spiritual journal. I determined to follow his advice on both counts.

I bought a small, brown looseleaf notebook, almost exactly the size of my small, brown leather-bound Bible, given to me by my parents for Christmas in 1940. These I kept together at all times. 

- Elisabeth Elliot, Passion and Purity.

Jim and Elisabeth began a romance that year that eventually ended in marriage in 1953. Jim was eventually speared to death along with four other missionaries in Ecuador as they tried to reach the Waodani tribe in 1956. 

It is my contention that the reason we know about Jim and Elisabeth today is not only because of Jim's martyrdom, but also because Elisabeth wrote so many books about their lives, such as Through Gates of Splendor, The Savage My Kinsman, and Passion and Purity, along with her edited version of The Journals of Jim Elliot. She would not have been able to do so to the level of detail and emotional depth that she did without the evidence from these journals, which they started after hearing Stephen Olford's message. 

And I'm sure that the writing and processing each of them did as they kept the journals helped them make the life decisions they did. So in a way, we know about Jim and Elisabeth Elliot today because Stephen Olford encouraged them to journal.

Journaling as confession

Between last night and this morning, I read Maria Boulding's introduction to Augustine's Confessions. I was impressed by one section called "What is Confession?", where she outlines three "layers of meaning" to the Latin words confessio (a noun) and confiteri (a verb), denoting three types of activity that Augustine engaged in as he wrote. 

First, he confessed his sin. Second, he confessed God's glory. Third, he asks God to give him words, and then he uses words and ideas he has learned in Scripture and uttered in prayer to speak back to God and for his readers.

This last type of confession "is a creative process", Boulding says. Just as the Holy Spirit "prays in us" when we don't have words (see Romans 8:6), so we co-create ourselves along with God as we make his creative word part of our spoken and written thoughts.

"Words... are essentially signs; and they reach their fullest meaning as servants of self-transcendence."

This has important implications for journaling as a spiritual exercise, which I have been learning to practice for the past two years I've been part of a men's group called Intercept.

Journaling lets us capture and process our floating thoughts, and rein and run with our angry, driving ones. In a sense it is a conversation between ourselves and God, through which we create meaning out of the sense impressions running past our ears and eyes and tongues and fingertips. Through which we turn ideas over and under until they fit into the shape of our life, and in very special cases, fill and expand and reshape that life.

Confessing didn't calm every one of Augustine's storms, but the process made him a more interesting person, and the writing of it brought that process to us so we could join the chorus, from whatever little cell we might be in.

(All quotes are from Maria Boulding, Introduction in Augustine, The Confessions, 2nd edition. Hyde Park, NY: New City Press, pp.24-25.)