Today is my 25th birthday. I'm now a quarter of a century old, or, as my siblings used to say, vintage. Apparently, twenty-five is the minimum age an item must reach before it can be sold on Etsy if it isn't handmade. That's an old joke...we won't pursue that line of reasoning any further.

         Unlike many of my peers, turning another year older doesn't really bother me. Frankly, like wine and cheese, I think I've gotten better with age, if I am allowed to make such a declaration. However, this morning, making myself a peach tart to console myself over the fact that there would be no birthday celebration on this day for the first time in my life, I caught myself going along a fearfully familiar train of reasoning.

First came the thought, While I'm standing here, rubbing butter into flour I could turn on some music and turn off my thoughts for a bit, that would be nice.

Then came another thought, Or I could stand here and pray, that would be a god way to kick off the day.

But it's my birthday, I'm allowed to indulge myself and do whatever I feel like today. The other voice shot back with frightful ease.

That's when I stopped myself. 

That's the sort of thing we all agree on, nowadays, isn't it? On our birthdays we deserve to kick back and just follow our feelings down whatever fickle freeway they may flee.

(Quick disclaimer, I'm not saying my desire to listen to music was sinful...it was just the heart attitude that was at fault here...just so we're clear. :) )

Since when? 

Since when did we get into this way of thinking that the anniversary of one's birth was the day to be as self-centered as we pleased?

I've often joked to my brothers that they ought to be perfect saints on their birthdays so that no one regrets that they were born.

In all seriousness, though, who should I actually celebrate on my birthday? Myself?

Let's see, what about myself is so special? Well, I have a pretty impressive voice...oh, but wait, I didn't do that. God gave that to me. I never had to even learn to carry a tune.

What else?

Oh, I completed my Bachelor's degree in two years. Surely that's an achievement worth celebrating me for? Um...except, did I actually push myself that much during those two years? Was it an achievement to rank fourteenth of fifteen students in my graduating class? All those times that I told myself I could kick back and relax and didn't push myself, were because I was riding on my God given abilities, not from any virtue I attained. 

What else?

I can play violin...yes, but not super well. If I'd pushed myself more, I could be much farther than I am now. 

Piano...I never practiced enough.

Dance...I'm one of the worse dancers on the floor.

Writing...I still haven't gotten anything ready to publish.

Poetry...sure I've won a couple contests, but, once again, poetry has always been a spontaneous output...I haven't worked that hard at it.

Yes, I'm in Scotland, studying for a masters, but God opened all the doors for that. I actually didn't do that much.

You see where this line of reasoning goes?

Yes, I know what you're going to say, I've heard it all before,"You're being too hard on yourself, Christianna. You've actually done a lot, and you're such a great person, you just don't see it."

Alright, maybe that's true, but whose achievement is that?

Certainly not through Herculean effort on my part. 

You see, if I try to celebrate myself, and am being honest, I'm always going to see where I've fallen short. That's the nature of the thing. People who can't recognize how far they have to go, or refuse to do so, never get anywhere, and those who do recognize it, if they choose to focus on it, are going to be the most depressed people in the world.

The world's philosophy teaches us to turn a blind eye to our faults, to love ourselves, to see the best in ourselves, to celebrate all our petty triumphs like they're worth something. The problem with this, is that to actually love ourselves for ourselves is to either be dishonest with ourselves about who we really are, or to love sin, and failure, and shortcomings. 

Neither option is desirable.

There is really only one solution; one thing I can do on this, my special day: Focus on someone else.

       One of my favourite hymns, "Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus" is known mostly by its chorus. Few people are familiar with the verses, which, to me, are the best part.

The first verse, especially, sums up my realization on this matter:

       So, today, on this, my special day, I'm going to celebrate Christ and all the beautiful, true things He's surrounded me with. I'm going to fix my gaze on Him with the desire that the things of this earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.

      

        Glory To Christ, First and Above All!

               ~ Christianna

 

          Yes, this lovely image drawn by a friend of mine as part of a joke known only to a few of my friends, aptly describes what I have felt like multiple times since arriving on the Bonnie shores of Scotland. 

           It really sank in the day my laptop got creamed...literally.

Those of you who know me, know that I do not carry a smart phone. I keep my little flip phone turned off and only use it to call people, not to be called by them. My personal computer, a.k.a. my five year old Lenovo laptop is the only means for people to contact me electronically. 

That was why last Monday, after stopping by the store and unwisely putting a container of cream in my messenger bag for the walk home, I was slightly concerned when, upon arriving back at my flat, I discovered a cream swamp at the bottom of my bag, and the laptop which, it turned out, I hadn't needed to take with me at all, was sitting in about half an inch of it.

I did all the right things, I hope. 

I cleaned it out as well as I could and set it in rice overnight, but the next morning, although it turned on, the charging port may as well have been cheese for all the good it did, and when the screen started doing funny things, I knew I had better find a technician as quickly as possible. 

So, I flew off (not literally) to the nearest computer repair shop where the most technical of all technicians awaited me with all the cold hard facts he had at his disposal.

The motherboard was very likely damaged.

Were there any files I wanted salvaged if it was irreparable?

It would probably cost me at least two-hundred pounds, was it worth that much to me?

He probably couldn't look at it that day. He was backed up on orders, he would disconnect the battery as soon as possible to prevent possible further damage, but not one eyebrow in his face moved as he told me flatly to be prepared for the worst.

He would charge me only forty pounds if it turned out he couldn't fix it...as he very likely could not.

His lovely Scottish accent did not soften the sentence on iota, and the total lack of empathy whatsoever on his features made me almost cry after I left the shop.

I felt completely and utterly waylayed. 

Here I was, thousands of miles from home and everyone I cared about...there was an ocean barring the way, and now I had no personal computer at my disposal. Further, I had no source of income, I didn't know my way around the area nearly well enough to not need to write down directions. My phone had no service that worked over here, I was in the middle of a foreign city, and if I disappeared no one would care.

At least, that's how it felt at the time. It's amusing how emotional the female psyche is apt to become under stress. Anyhow, as I limped along the next few days using the library computers, and, barring a few meltdowns, managed to keep a brave face, and leak nothing of what I actually felt to anybody, I began to realize the utter dependency I had developed on this one little device.

I didn't die...I didn't get lost (at least not seriously), I was still able to communicate with people, and Aberdeen wasn't completely callous in its lack of regard for the friendless music student from North Carolina.

I say that last bit with heavy sarcasm for I was neither disregarded nor friendless.

If nothing else, my milky prospects over the past week taught me that God does not forsake us wherever we go, and we could not flee from His presence even if we tried. I spent more time with him over the last week than I have in many a year for such an unbroken period of time, and discovered a certain sweetness and purity in my thought life which I had been too distracted to cultivate for quite a while.

This past Sunday at evening service I was reminded of the parable of the sower. The thorny soil has always resonated with me the most. 

"The worries of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choked the word and it became unfruitful."

How many times do I contribute to this choking process by allowing myself to be distracted? How many times do I fling wide the gates of my heart and welcome the distractions in?

How many times do I give the Lord of the universe five minutes in the kitchen while I entertain the worries of the world in my parlor?

A minister of my former acquaintance used to say that, "the only use of facebook will be to show, in the last days, that faithlessness was not from lack of time."

While this can be taken too literally, that point is poignant. We allow ourselves to be distracted from the important things and far to easily become dependent on those which lack any weight whatsoever. Why?

I'm determined to keep this lesson in view even with reality flying in the face of the technician's dire prognostications, and my computer up and functioning like it never had a cream bath. 

Resolves such as these often crumble away, but I shall hope to be able to look back on the  day God waylayed me and creamed my computer...literally.

I'll close with a hymn I've been reminded of frequently. One which I've been singing all over the place recently, for which I've gotten multiple odd looks. It's okay, the Jews thought the apostles were drunk at Pentacost, I can take a similar misconception with much less at stake. ;) 

(This version is slower than I sing it, and they omit a three of the verses, but you still get the picture)

 

            

 

1. For all the saints, who from their labours rest,

Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,

Thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

2. Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might;

Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well fought fight;

Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

3. For the Apostles’ glorious company,

Who bearing forth the Cross o’er land and sea,

Shook all the mighty world, we sing to Thee:

Alleluia, Alleluia!

4. O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true and bold,

Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,

And win with them the victor’s crown of gold.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

5. For the Evangelists, by whose blest word,

Like fourfold streams, the garden of the Lord,

Is fair and fruitful, be Thy Name adored.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

6. For Martyrs, who with rapture kindled eye,

Saw the bright crown descending from the sky,

And seeing, grasped it, Thee we glorify.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

7. O blest communion, fellowship divine!

We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;

Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

8. And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,

Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,

And hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

9. The golden evening brightens in the west;

Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest;

Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

10. But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;

The saints triumphant rise in bright array;

The King of glory passes on His way.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

11. From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast,

Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,

Singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost:

Alleluia, Alleluia!

 

How is our focus on the Lord today? Let us keep our eyes fixed on that glorious prospect, and leave the cream out of it entirely.

 

        Much Love from Scotland,

             

                  ~ Christianna