The Learning of a Word

I've been thinking lately about the process my brain seems to follow in the learning of a new word in my second language.

There are times that I see or hear a word and know [almost] without a doubt that I have never seen or heard it before.  So it is explained to me, and I write it down, and later I look it up in the dictionary, and I stick it in a mental file.

By now I am learning many words that are not used every day.  So one day I may be reading a new lesson, and I come to a word.  Something niggles in the back of my brain, like I've heard that before, but I haven't the foggiest idea what it means.  So it is explained to me again, and I write it down, and later I look it up in the dictionary, and I say, "Now don't forget this time."

But weeks may go by, and the word never comes up in conversation or reading.  Then one day we meet again, and my brain niggles even harder, and I know I should know that word, but it just won't quite come to me.  So I give up trying to find the right file, and it is explained to me again, and I say, "Ah, yes...now I remember!"  And I go through the whole process again.

The next time I see or hear the word, I stop and think.  "I know that word," I say.  And if I think long enough, I remember.  Aha.

One day I am speaking, and I need That Exact Word, but for the life of me I can't remember what it is.  Grr.  So I stumble and stammer, and try out some sounds that may be a part of the word, and they listen and guess, and eventually they figure out what I want to say and help me out.  "Yes!  That one!" I say.

But you know, eventually there comes a day when I rattle off a tale, and at the end I realize that I used That Word, and I didn't even think about it.  Aahh...I believe it is now learned.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The other week I had the privilege of telling someone the Christmas story in detail.  "Have you ever heard that story before?" I asked.  "No," was her reply.  And I found myself being fresh amazed in the telling.

Several days later, she walked out of my life.  And I wonder.  Will we meet again?  Will she remember that story, and the one about Jesus' death and resurrection, and the chapters we read together about how God created her with design, and the verses about how much He loves her?

So when I was thinking recently about the learning of a word, I thought also about the learning of a story, the learning of a truth.

Maybe she won't remember it all.  But I know from experience that it will be somewhere there in her mental files niggling away, and when she meets up with the Story again, it will be round two in the process, and she will remember more, and it will fit together more, make more sense.

Is it a waste of my teacher's time, the first time I meet a word and she explains it, if I don't actually remember it?  No, because if I don't hear it the first time, then the second time will be the first time, and the building blocks won't build.

So I will keep on filing words away, knowing they'll become fixtures in my communicating some day.

And I will keep on telling the Story, keep on introducing the Truth, because I have faith that it will be stored away in the hearer and used as a starting point.  I have faith in the Keeper of all mind and spirit files.

Love Never Fails

What do you do with it when you've been investing and teaching and listening and overlooking faults and giving--loving--and then you suddenly discover that the one you've been offering this all to has been taking advantage of your patience and love and has flown straight against all your expectations and their commitments?

What did I do with it? I labelled it. FAILED.

My goal in ministry is to give Jesus the opportunity to love and pursue people through my flesh and blood, and to give them the opportunity to be introduced to Jesus and be birthed into a new life and lifestyle. My days consist of weighing what that love looks like in the moment. I regularly run up against situations that call for a decision between mercy and justice, between tender and tough. Many times I don't know what's best, but I ask God for guidance, and I try...oh, I try.

So when the realization of this "betrayal" came, I was left grappling with a sense of failure. I'd been made a fool of. I was trying to be patient, trying to assume the best even when I didn't always quite believe what I was being told, trying to "speak straight" when I needed to...trying to love. But apparently I was being naive and blind and I should have caught on to all this and I blew it.

Then Jesus started talking. This happens to Him all the time! He loves and gives and has mercy and disciplines and forgives and is patient. He can't be deceived, like I was. But more times than not, people take the gifts and ignore Him completely. Or even receive the salvation He offers, but then make light of the commitment they made in return and pay little attention to His expectations for them.

Is He failing? No, that's impossible. He's loving big...loving God-style.

He led me to His definitions. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures (perseveres) all things.

Was I too patient? No, He said...that's what love does. Was I naive and blind to accept the stories given? No, love believes all things. Are some cases hopeless? No, love hopes. Should I give up on this one? No, love perseveres.

And then He summarized.

Love never fails.

Perhaps more than I've realized, I've looked at that as saying that love will always succeed in bringing about the desired results, and niggling in the back of my mind has been a doubt whether that can really be true. Or at the least, there's an assumption back there that if the results don't come, then I must not be loving well.

But no, He says. Love never fails. Whatever love I give succeeds. It can't fail, because God is love and love is of God. It might not bring the sum total results I want to see, but each "love wave" I send out succeeds, because that's all that love is capable of doing.

I can keep on loving if I can see it as following His model of risk, rather than fearing failure.

I want to learn to love more like Christ. I want to grow, to love more perfectly.

But underlying it all, He tells me, "That wasn't failing...that was loving, My style."

Father Love

I met a man last week that left an impression on me.  He was well into the grandfather era, and radiated abundant life and passion for serving the Lord.

He was teaching a group of people who had a collection of tough life stories, the likes of which most of us have never come close to experiencing.

I heard him say that one of his goals was to find ways to show them what the love of a father is like, because very likely many of them didn’t experience this well from their own fathers.  And the purpose behind this was to give them an accurate picture of the love of Father God toward His children.

So there were frequent hugs all around.

There were words of endearment and encouragement.  ”You’re my child, and I love you.”  “You’re doing so great!”

 

There were beanie babies for all.

 

There were photos taken together.

 

He took them all out for supper.

 

He prayed over individuals time and again.

 

He gave them cards to write prayer requests on for him.  And he told them how he carries those cards in his pocket.

 

They were shown his special book where he writes important things, and where he has written each of their names down so he can keep praying for them through the years.

 

They were told of his excitement of returning in a few months and seeing them again, seeing how much they will have grown and changed by then.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

I watched.  And sometimes I had tears, because he was doing such a good job of accomplishing his goal that it was just a beautiful thing to see.  And because I saw how much they soaked it all up and loved him so dearly in return that they would have done anything for him and cried when he left.  And because it gave me fresh pictures of the love and enthusiasm my Father has for me...for all of us.

 

And it sent me on a ponder, too.  Why was I viewing this as a “special assignment” he had given himself?  Should this not be the goal/task of every believer?

 

“Show them what I am like.  Love them well.  Be my ambassador.”

 

It reminds me of a verse God highlighted for me a while ago.

 

“Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children, and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God” (Eph 5:1,2 NIV).

A Whole What?

Last time I wrote, I mentioned something about a "whole whack" of words.

Perhaps it's because I was in the language mode that I noticed it.  And I got to wondering.  Maybe you know the answer to this one?

How big exactly is a whack?  And does anything ever come in a half or a quarter whack?

(Webster doesn't know either.  Imagine that!)

Language Fun

Well, life certainly got more interesting since Babel.  At least I've found it so.

Sometimes I'm amazed to think about how there can possibly be so many ways in the world of saying the same thing.  I forget how many, but I think it's close to Lots.

Other times I'm amazed at how two of those ways which seem to have nothing in common can have many similarities.  For example, you can have one word that in Language 1 has two quite different meanings (according to good old Webster's), and then in Language 2, of all things you discover a completely different word that carries the same two meanings!

Fascinating...that's my word for it all.  For this Expotition I'm on.  Fascinating.

A great number of words in my Language 2 have only one syllable.  Which sounds like it would greatly limit the amount of possibilities.  But when you can hold the vowel for a long or short time, and then have five tones in which the word could be said, that changes the picture.

That means that the word I would have prounouced as "cow" can be said ten different ways.  I know completely disconnected meanings for five of those ways, and I'm guessing at least some of the other five have meanings that I have not yet discovered.  Yeah.

(Note:  Language 1 can say it ten different ways as well, but it pretty steadfastly remains a black and white beast in a pasture.)

There's something about tackling a new language that makes you notice what it's made of. I'm sure Language 1 has this effect as well, but when you've known it since always, I guess you don't notice the pieces as much.  But I love some of the ingredients of this language.

One classic is "heart" words.  There is a whole whack of them.  And they give pictures that make good sense and [even better] make you remember.  Here's a sampling:

sad:  dead heart
glad:  good heart
impatient:  hot heart
calm:  cool heart
startled:  fall heart
satisfied:  enough heart
paying attention:  standing upright heart
understand:  enter heart
trust:  place heart
repent:  turn heart

So yes, since there are many one-syllable words, when you run out of those, you just string 'em together to create the rest of the words you need (slight oversimplification here).  This has taken compound words to a whole new level for me.  But hey, they give pictures that make good sense and [even better] make you remember.

fireworks:  fire flowers
cold/flu:  big cold fever
agree:  see also
crayon:  colour candle
disappointed:  wrong hope
curious:  want to know, want to see
towel:  cloth wipe body
organs:  inside machines
shampoo:  medicine wash hair
and one of my favourites...toilet:  pull gurgle

And then there are just sensible things. Like having a different word for your paternal and maternal grandparents. That takes care of the need to tack on surnames or invent cutesy alternatives. Handy.

Ah yes...fascinating.

(While wholehearted attempts for accuracy have been made, "ignorance=innocence" is claimed in the event of error.)

For My Sake

God’s been leading me on a ponder the last little while.  Here I am to try to put it into some words...

“And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life” (Matt 19:29).

“He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it” (Matt 10:39).

Sure, I understand this.  It means things like:

• being martyred for your faith
• losing your job because you’re a Christian
• leaving your family and home to take the gospel around the world
• having few close friends in college because of your outlandish beliefs

 
Face it... for many of us, those come around now and again or never.

But what about when:

• I spend a lonely evening in a crowd
• unwelcome changes come my way
• words, or lack of them, bring hurt
• I’m getting tired of rice and roaches
• something I have really been looking forward to is taken from me?

These happen to those who are not in Christ’s Kingdom, too, so they probably don’t count as “for My sake”.  Right?

I wonder if, when I ride that brain train, I devalue opportunities God is giving me.  Ride this train for a little:

• Everything I have and experience comes through God’s hand.
• Therefore I have nothing of my own.
• Therefore I have nothing to offer to God but what God first gives to me.
• Therefore everything I receive from God is a potential gift I can return to Him.

Here’s the picture.  Something that includes discomfort is coming to me through God’s hand.  I can sadly and grudgingly receive it, trying to decide what to do with it and wondering how long I’ll be left holding it.  Or I can view it as something He has given me to place on His altar, and offer it to Him as a sacrifice, thus giving it value.  “Lord, this is for You.  I choose to receive it with a gracious spirit and respond with thanksgiving instead of murmuring.”

If difficulty is simply a don’t-like-it, gotta-deal-with-it matter, it remains at the level of losing life.  If pain or disappointment or loss or inconvenience is something I can offer to God, it becomes “for My sake”, brings meaning and value to the experience, and opens the way to finding life.

When I see difficulty and pain as an opportunity to please God with a sweet-smelling sacrifice, I find it removes some of the sting.  Or at least it gives the sting value, because I’m viewing it as something given to me to give back as an offering...“for My sake”.

And it becomes:

• a thank offering (Lev 22:29)
• a sweet savour unto the Lord (Lev 3:5)
• a sacrifice of praise (Heb 13:15)

I suppose if I lived across the street from the Temple, I’d be on the lookout.  “Hmm...what can I offer today?”

What about if I am the temple?

Battling OHS

I couldn't believe my eyes.  She was reading a book.  Reading a book! You do this in a public place when you're trying to make time pass until the Real Thing happens.  Acceptable and understandable behaviour.

But here?  Now?!

In the meantime, I was trying to stay fully seated and relaxed in my chair, and I kept finding my mouth disturbingly half-open, while my eyes tried to be everywhere at once and my ears scrambled to keep up to all that was taking place around me.  If souls can tingle, mine was.

How could we be in the same room, reacting in such different ways?

The large gathering included a 235-voice choir, a well-known orchestra, and four professional soloists...all gathered to perform Handel's Messiah in a renowned concert hall that seats over 2000 people.

It was dress rehearsal night.  I was a member of the choir.  She was a member of the orchestra.

I had been anticipating this night for months.  For me it was a pinch-me-I'm-here moment.  Being able to hear and watch the orchestra up close.  Marvelling at the vocal quality and lung capacity of the soloists.  And singing...ahhh, singing!  Those great words that have lasted for thousands of years, set to great music that has lasted for hundreds.

At the moment, neither of us had a role to play in the music.

I was soaking it in.  She was reading a book.

Her book...it felt almost sacrilegious to me.  Surrounded by such beauty...and tuning it out to read a book.  How dare she?!

*****************

I've thought of this several times in the week since.

When I realized we must have prayed because we always do at That Spot and we were past That Spot now, but I couldn't remember it happening.

When I opened my Bible and couldn't decide if I'd read that chapter yesterday or if that's where I'm to start today.

When the pastor said we're at point #5 and I hadn't caught on that there were numerical points.

When the assigned reading was Luke 2, and I settled in to get nothing new out of this story I know inside out.

*****************

The fire has gone out of my disdain for The Lady with the Book.

I guess it's just plain Old Hat Syndrome.  I'm seeking a cure.