It wasn't long after I started seminary that I came face-to-face with the fact that I know nothing at all.  My first class made me realize that I had been doing it all wrong all along.  Well, not all wrong, but I wasn't all right either.  I was horrified that I may have been distorting God's word for the last decade -- rather than illuminating it.  And for the first time in my short spiritual journey, I felt like I was truly seeing myself for who I truly am.  Not Mary Ann, a spiritual giant, but Mary Ann, a novice in the faith.  Who was I to think I had something to teach anyone? 

What followed was a necessary period of humbling silence.  Helmut Thielicke calls this period of time 'theological puberty' -- when a young theologian has gained intellectual understanding of spiritual matters but has not yet applied it to her own life or reproduced it with the freshness of her own faith.  Cognizant of my immaturity, I thrust myself into a season of learning; and, in refraining from imparting (my so-called) knowledge or asserting authority, I realized that I really had so much to learn.  That season of life coincided with our transition to a new community of believers, and that anonymity lent itself to being the perfect environment to set aside whatever I thought I knew and just receive.  I resolved that I wouldn't make mention of my spiritual resume (because what was that worth, really?).  Meanwhile, I would say yes to every opportunity that was presented to me.  Perhaps teaching wasn't my gift, after all.  Perhaps God hasn't called me to such a role.  But I prayed that if I that was something he was really calling me to do, then he would draw me back into it. 

Much time passed, and I had grown accustomed to not teaching and not being a leader of any sort.  At most, I was serving in the nursery in the children's ministry, enjoying seminary and a baby on the way.  Still, Sam and I continued to pray every night that God would show us how he wanted us to participate in our community.  And I wondered constantly whether I was burying my talents in the sand, an act -- if true -- would be something with which God would disapprove.   

One Sunday, in a sermon, Pastor Jamie asked the congregation, "Have you been hiding?  Jesus is telling you, 'Come down (out of hiding) and follow me.'" 

I realized then that I had been hiding.  Fears of failure loomed large.  Wounds of the past still felt raw.  As I pressed into those things which bound me, I begin to experience freedom.  And then, at just the right time, opportunities came to me to teach again.  I didn't feel ready at that time, but I knew that God had answered my prayer to draw me in again, so how could I refuse?

But in beginning again, I know that I am a different person now.  I've lost the need to prove myself, and, most importantly, I am well aware of the fact that I don't have to always be right.  The realization has been fixed -- I am yet still -- and perhaps will always be -- a novice in the faith.  The mysteries of God are unattainable and that is something to rejoice over.

Sometimes "knowledge is power", but with language, it often feels like ignorance is bliss.  Having studied both Biblical Greek and Hebrew, it is hard for me be a passive learner when Biblical language is mishandled in sermons or worship songs.  I don't want to be critical but there's a certain amount of angst that comes with the power of knowledge. 

Take for example "Jehovah", a popularly used name for God.  It's actually not a real name of God but a made-up one.  Its history goes back to a reverence for God and His name.  "Yahweh" is the real, revealed, personal name of God, but because the Jews didn't want to take Yahweh's name in vain, they came up with another name to denote His name in the Scriptures.  They used the consonants for "Yahweh" and the vowels of "Adonai" (which means "Lord") to make a new word...which roughly reads "Yehovah".  But this was only a code word.  Anybody who actually read the Scriptures knew that when you got to this code word, you wouldn't read "Yehovah", you would read "Adonai", and when everyone heard "Adonai", they knew you really meant "Yahweh".  In other words:  pretend we had an abbreviation/code word for Jesus like "J-SOG" (Jesus, Son of God) and then we decided to use "J-SOG" to address him in worship and in prayers.  "Oh, JSOG, we love you...."  Sure, it might work as long as we know who we're talking about, but it's still not quite the name of God.  But then again, what's in a name?  Does it really matter?  We call God by different names in different languages, after all.  I've been back and forth on this because of the fact that "Jehovah" has kinda trickled down through the years to become a sort of name for God.  But you can kinda see where my angst is coming from... 

My conclusion so far?  There is a great need for humility that comes with the privilege of learning.  And I confess I am only a preschooler in the school of humility.

On Sunday, we sang a worship song with lyrics made up of the words to Psalm 23.  Because I spent hours and hours translating this psalm and exegeting it for my final paper in Hebrew, I was 'slightly' bowled over by the depth of meaning I experienced as I sang the words.  To blog all the different nuances I learned would be tedious, but today I wanted to share one thing that continues to make ripples in my heart. 

At the end of the psalm in verse 6, most Bible versions render the verse, "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life..."  Interestingly, the word that is translated "follow" from the Hebrew is more accurately (in my opinion) translated "to attend closely to" or "pursue."  In the Old Testament, this word is most often used to describe enemies who hotly pursue their adversaries.  However, because of God's protection, it is not enemies who hotly pursue the psalmist (nor us) but God's goodness and faithfulness.  What an incredible, vivid image it is to see God's goodness and faithfulness personified here as being in hot pursuit of me!  I have no fear of enemies chasing me, being hot on my trail, breathing down my neck.  Instead, I have the shalom-giving assurance that God is hot on my heels, actively chasing me down with his goodness and faithfulness.  His love for me is ACTIVE, not passive or stationary...

Something about this truth just causes me to bow and worship.

One of my first assigned translation passages for my Hebrew class was Genesis 22.  Genesis 22 had previously always been the passage that I was most embarrassed about when I talked to skeptics about the Bible.  I mean...why in the world would a loving God tell a man of faith to sacrifice his own son?  It seemed so cruel and so pagan, I always wished it weren't in the Bible.  But perhaps that is precisely why it has become one of the most significant passages in the Bible for me.  In my heart of hearts, I just can't picture a deeper anguish than a parent having to offer up their child -- and as I'm caught up in this heartaching empathy, I realize that whereas God provided a ram in Isaac's place so that Abraham didn't end up having to lose Isaac, God did not provide a substitution when His own son was up on the chopping block.  For our sakes, this Parent gave up His son.  What love is this -- I will never understand.

When I was translating this passage for the first time last quarter, I was very struck by Gen 22:8.  The phrase that is usually translated "God will provide" in English comes from the Hebrew word "yereh-lo."   This word comes from the root word "raah", which means "sees".  The phrase could be translated "God will see to it".  In other words, God sees.  He will see to it, because He sees Abraham.  He will see to it, because He *sees* you and He *sees* me.  In a world where we often feel very much so on our own, often as if we are always fighting as hard as we can in order to simply make it; it is truly breathtaking and heartstopping to me to have such an immense truth break through -- a devoted Father and friend, who happens to be the King of the universe, right by our sides, seeing, knowing and fighting for us.  [selah]

I woke up thinking about הִנֵּנִי (hinneni).  This was Abraham's response to God when He called out his name.  הִנֵּנִי means "Here I am."  It is a way of responding by persons related by intimacy or respect (i.e. father-son, king-subject).  It is the only word Abraham utters to God in the whole of the climatic events of Genesis 22, and it shows how attentive and receptive he was toward God.  It is the same response that Samuel and Isaiah use later when God calls their name.  I am struck deeply by the magnitude of what this word means especially after spending hours and hours studying the Akedah (aka Genesis 22).  This is the attitude of the heart that I also should have.  When God calls my name, I ought to respond attentively and receptively.  "Here I am, Lord.  What do you want me to do, Lord?"  One can only utter this phrase, it seems, if one is willing to follow through on its meaning.  Do I really mean it?  Will I be obedient to God, whatever the request?  Those who led before me (Abraham, Samuel, Isaiah) all set forth to do exactly as God requested following their response of הִנֵּנִי.  How I pray that when God calls my name, I will answer הִנֵּנִי.  

Ok, we did it.  First week of crazyness completed.  (Well, sort of.)

On Monday, I had to leave the house at 6 pm to get to my 7 pm Old Testament class.  I waved goodbye to Sam and the baby and hurried out the door before she could realize what was happening and start to cry.  She cried anyway, but Sam told me later, it wasn't too bad.  It's strange how hard it actually was to leave though!  I got home after 10, and Baby was sleeping soundly in the crib, and Sam and I caught up about the night. 

On Tuesday, Sam got home from work at 3 pm.  I had just put the baby down for her afternoon nap, so it was a lot easier for me to slip out the door without any trouble.  I wasn't ready to leave at exactly 3 though because Baby is having an allergic reaction to something (we think it's the new brand of diaper wipes that we just got), and I was busy trying to manage that problem all day.  Anyway, I left at 3:15 and still made it to the seminary early. 

It was wonderful to be back and to see old classmates and just talk and have familiarity.  My Tuesday afternoon class is Biblical Hebrew.  Three of my classmates from Greek are in the class, so that's going to be really nice!  It's going to be interesting to see how hard and easy Hebrew will be compared to Greek.  (I predict asking my good friend Trevor for some help!) 

At 7 o'clock, my Hebrew class ended and I walked out of the classroom as Sam was walking up the stairs with Baby in his arms.  As I took her in my arms, we began to draw a crowd.  Former classmates who had heard about her flocked to us to say hi.  The New Testament professor Mark Strauss said, "She looks just like her mom and dad (referring to us)!  God was preparing her for you."  I thought that declaration was very nice.  Then Sam went to his Greek class (yes, he's taking Koine this year!), and I took Baby into my car and drove her home.

I'm calling it the Baby Exchange. 

Years ago, I used to work for a Campus Crusade guy who mentioned to me a few times how he and his wife attended seminary at the same time -- while having little ones at the same time.  He would say, "Hey, if God calls you to it, He'll make it work.  You just make it work."  He told me that they would hand off the kids to each other in the parking lot as one would leave a class and the other would be going to a class.  Henry and Wilma Tan, you are our inspiration.  If they can do it, so can we.

Now, the real question is, when and how will we have time and energy to study??  Now the adventure truly begins!

I've been feeling
anxious because I don't know how we will afford seminary. This year, we
will have to take from our savings. The daughter of my father in me
admonishes me repeatedly how foolish it will be for us to not have any
more "just in case" money... but as I sit with the Lord, I have to
wonder what we're saving money for but for his purposes. And who but
the Lord will provide when we have need?

Paul wrote to the Philippians that, "God will meet all your needs
according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus" (Phil 4:19). The
context of this verse is actually Paul talking about how God will meet
all the Philippians' needs as a result of their giving to Paul. The
underlying principle, of course, is that in following God, He provides
for our needs with His glorious riches. But what are these riches? Is
it monetary? I want it to be a monetary promise. Perhaps it is. But
perhaps it isn't too. Perhaps he's really addressing those real, deep,
hungry needs we have which are far more critical than the material. In
my head, I understand that this truly is more important -- but there's
that fleshly, nagging part of me that just doesn't know how to survive
without all the material comforts too. What if Sam loses his job? What
if we use all our savings? What if...and the list goes on.

Paul says, "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to
have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and
every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty
or in want (Phil 4:12)." The question is - what is that secret? How do
I learn it too? Is it simply 4:13, "I can do everything through him who
gives me strength."? Christ. The secret is Christ. Is it not Phil 3:8?
That everything is a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of
knowing Christ Jesus. Something about Jesus. He will meet all my needs
and in Him, I will be content no matter what the circumstances. Lord,
help me understand this secret of You.

Sam and I pray together every night -- about the baby and everything else.  Recently, we've been praying a lot about what to do in the near future (seminary) and far future (missions).  One of the big questions we are grappling with is how we could afford seminary in the fall quarter, since I had stopped working when we became parents and because tuition has gone up.  We finally came to the point where we thought maybe we'd have to give up seminary this fall.   But then today I got a financial aid award letter in the mail from our seminary.  I have been awarded two scholarships for this next academic term!  The condition is that I have to take 2 classes per quarter in order to receive the scholarships.  So basically, God was making it clear -- not only was I to continue with seminary but I will take two classes a quarter.  Plus, when I take 2 classes, Sam gets to take 1 class for half off.  How could we say no to the scholarships?  Now we just have to come up with the other $2450 per quarter x 3 quarters = $7350...  eeks.  That's a lot of money -- but all the gold and silver in the world belongs to God, right?

Greek:
θεον ουδεις εωρακεν πωποτε μονογενης θεος ο ων εις τον κολπον τοu πατρος εκεινος εξηγησατο.

My Literal Translation:
God no one has seen ever/at any time (perfect tense - i.e. completed past tense), the one and only God, who is (present participle - i.e. continuous action) in the bosom of the Father, that he has revealed/made known/narrated precisely/expounded in detail (aorist - i.e. undefined past tense).

My Mediating Translation:
No one has ever seen God, but the one and only God, who is closest to the Father's heart, has made Him known.

My Idiomatic Translation:
No one has ever seen God, but [Jesus, who is] the one and only God, who is closest to the Father, has made the Father come to life in vivid detail for us.

Getting the nuance of this verse correctly is such a challenge.  Although the oldest and most reliable Greek New Testament manuscripts say μονογενης θεος ("the one and only God"), it is clear from the context that the author's intended meaning is that Jesus is the one and only God.  It is tempting to switch up the word and just translate it, "No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son..."  However, to do so would take away from the author's theological point (although actually, the entirety of John 1:1-18 already points to the fact that Jesus is God, so switching "God" to "Son" would not be too bad).  Of my three translations, I like the idiomatic translation the best.  Makes sense to me now why the TNIV translators did it their way now. 

Such truths revealed in this one small verse!
No one has ever at any time seen God, except the Son.  The Son has!  He has because He is God and because He is closest to the Father.  The word ων (translated as "is") is a present participle, which means that it is a continuous and on-going action.  Jesus is and continues to be in the bosom of the Father.  Wow.

In summary of the verse --  Jesus is 1. the one and only God, 2. closest to the Father, and 3. has expounded in vivid detail the Father's heart to us through His being/existence.  Being that He continues to be in the heart of the Father, He truly is the only one who was and is qualifed to make Him known, isn't He?

"Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none..."  (Luke 3:11)  Tonight my New Testament professor taught us that the people who were being preached at in this passage lived in such poverty that they really only had one shirt.  It was a rarity that anyone would actually have a change of shirts.  Yet, here, John the Baptist is saying that if you wanted to live out the Kingdom and happened to have a spare shirt, you ought to give it away to someone else who has need.  That really puts things into perspective! 

We studied the Gospel of Luke this past week and learned that one of the many themes that is prominent in this gospel is salvation for outsiders.  You can't read Luke without seeing the emphasis on Jesus' love for the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized of society.  In fact, it is in Luke uniquely that we find Jesus saying, "Blessed are the poor...blessed are you who hunger now."  Poor, not poor in spirit.  Hunger, not hunger for righteousness.  Jesus really meant the physically poor and the physically hungry.  In His inaugural sermon in Luke 4, He said that He came for the poor, the prisoners and the oppressed.

So as believers how do we be obedient to Jesus' call to us to care for these "outsiders"?

Growing up in middle class suburbia, the only attempts my group of friends ever made was to go down to a soup kitchen to serve food to the homeless and sometimes distribute sandwiches in downtown SD.  Anything more than that was beyond our imagination and our capability.  But somehow I think these things, though nice, do not fully embody what Jesus meant.

Perhaps what Jesus meant was something more like what happened to me a few years ago.  I was hanging out with a friend of mine and nonchalantly complimented her on her shirt.  Pretty routine stuff.  That's just what girls do.  But rather than the usual, "Thanks," in response, she completely took me by surprise when she asked instead, "Do you want it?"  She wasn't kidding.  She was really offering me her shirt!  And as I contemplated how surprised I was, I realized also that I shouldn't be surprised. She was just living out the Gospel.

But things like that do surprise us.  We don't know what to do with it when someone truly follows Jesus.  It's weird.

After class tonight, I talked to one of my classmates, and she said that she felt so riled up; she felt convicted and inspired to use all of her mind, body, and hands to serve God's people, but she wasn't sure who or how.  I was excited with her and felt the same way... but as we ended the conversation, I realized that I knew who and how.   When Sam and I were first married, I kept writing about the "tax collectors and sinners" and our knowing, growing conviction to do something about them -- but the only problem was that we had no idea who and how.  Walking out the seminary doors tonight, I felt this affirming hand on me urging me forward in welcoming a little one into our home.  To be foster parents -- to use the abundance (material and spiritual) that God has given us to bless a child who has no true home or true parent or family -- this is what the gospel is about.