21.12.08

Had the strangest dreams last night, that i was in some forest in Alaska, working as a ranger or something. This heard of small elks attacked me in my tree house and dismantled it with their huge ass horns. and nearby this huge terrifying owl chained to a branch kept going for me. i was cold, lost and alone, being attacked by elks and this huge, crazy beady eyed bird- when, as i sealed my body against the wooden planks, it occured to me, that i was living the adventure ive read of and dreamed about, honestly it didnt make me feel any better; but it did sustain me. Ive always thought thatadventure isnt something you should go looking for, it happens to the unsuspecting- it draws the hero out of the humble; like the hobbit- it makes a slave into a king, or a king into a slave aka Moses. Ive always thought that its foolish,not to mention a bit desperate, to make 'adventure' an ambition. But more seriously (and from less of a moral stance) id also concluded that if adventure is for humble people, being unhumble willjust exclude you from the lottery. but really its just the way people are; like the little mermaid or pocahauntus, or belle from beauty and the beast, or mulan. they dont just dream of adventure, they flipping sing about it! so i suppose theres nothing wrong in conceding that for all this time, ive wanted my own. not some feeble day trip to the beach, but a real epic adventure that stretches you to the limits of what you are, and breaks it, so that you come home scarred and softly spoken- but only because youve braced yourself against leagues of vast landscape and confronted a monster. when i was twelve i cried over dragons, because they didnt exist which meant that a magic pirate ship wouldnt sail into my room in the middle of the night and kidnap me, thereby propelling my life into action and adventure. neither was i going to develop a magical ability to shape shift,which i actually sat up and waited for in such downright lunacy once i hit puberty. obviously now, in an alien country surrounded by an alien language, i question my sanity in wanting such things. but adventure is part of why im a christian- its the ultimate battle of good vs. evil. and yet im realising the funniest thing about it, despite the ballads and poems and paintings- that in reality adventure is totally unglorious. it should be the last thing we want. i should fear God rather then invite Him into my life. Its like mistaking a lion for a lamb, or standing under lightning hoping to be electricuted.of course God is a lamb, but man more then a lamb. a wild untameable lethal thing. a lion we can only gawk at and should flee from. Today, after spending the day with Almira in "Fantastika" (a newly opened shopping centre, which is like America landed in Nizhny; another three storied, flashing lights, pristine floors, towering statues of voluptuous women, glass lifts, fountains dimension) as we drove home she told me that if she had known how hard it would be to follow Jesus, she would have to question her sanity in choosing it again. Of course, that isn't to say she regrets it, or isnt joyous, she just told me in such a chilling sincerity that her heart has been broken for her faith. Of course we associate Jesus and Acts with so much glory, with the miracles and mystical resurrection, the floodingHoly Spirt and all the hallelujahs and rejoicing angels, and thats all true- Jesus' glory is more then deserved, but is there really anything glorious about a disciple's life? about being crucified upside down? is there anything appealing about that? about being stripped to your raw trembling bones, and buckled before God? so that you can only pray for enough strength to ascend the alter? And in Russia? Where there are so few christians to encourage you, where the prospect of choosing between faith and financial stability is a reality,where 'waiting for God' doesnt mean relaxing into hope- but swallowing economic turmoil, broken families, persecution and -30 degrees. I mean, there is adventure happening all around us, there is holy revolution manifesting in back allies and basements- drug addicts being cured, alcoholics healed, prostitutes freed- but its miracles for the sick and dying, and diseased, or just mediocre. its salvation for ugly people, and less then ugly people; completely unremarkable people. and really there is no promise of more then where you are. Its real. its people that could be overweight, have body odour, and probably some hateful character trait. its real sweat. its decisions that arent sexy or appealing. its real bloody sacrifice, and singularity, and scars, and probably lonelieness, and definately persecution and alot of waiting. and homesickness, and racism. what sane person would choose that? But what sane logical person would choose delusion? would believe in a lie? would drink up the matrix? who would build their house on sand? This is an unglorious adventure for unglorious people. But its also beauty that blossoms inside of them. its transformation and metamorphisis. its joy even at minus whatever, its a flower in the desert. its following Jesus out of the tomb, and out of the cacoon. I spent the entire day talking about God with Almira, and am so in awed that you can develop such kinship with someone you barely know, from a completely different country and culture! Like my other friend Tamara- who speaks very little english but holds hands with me, and links arms as we walk; conversing feebly in russian, english and french! And today in church i sang beside Sara, from Sweden, and David, from Malaysia- whose favourite hobby i discovered, is fishing! What a Legend.