To Those Whose Speech is Vulgar

Dear Friends Who are Still Speaking to Me,

I've actually come up with a resolution this year, and I'd like to share it with you:

For 2018, I'm going to be more vulgar.

Wait (dammit), stay with me on this. For those who know me--or if my reputation has preceded me--you may be thinking a couple of different things.

"Is that actually possible? For Chandra to be more vulgar?"

and/or

"Is that such a good idea? For Chandra to be more vulgar?"

or even

"How is that a New Year's Resolution? For Chandra to be more vulgar?"

Well, hang on just a (damn) minute. "Vulgar" didn't always mean crude or offensive. It used to just mean "commonplace" or "of the masses." The Vulgate version of the Bible was written in Latin, a language of the masses (hence the word origin; EDIT: The Vulgate was the more commonly used Latin Bible, so that's why it entered the vernacular. Thanks, D. Hogue!). Latin is a "dead" language now, and most folks who can read the Bible in a Latin translation are fairly privileged/scholarly. But at one time, the language of the Vulgate would have been understandable to many (if not most) European folks. And though someone saying they know "Koine" Greek might sound impressive, using the modifier "Koine" is merely a way of distinguishing Classical Greek from the everyday Greek in which the New Testament was written. It too, just means "common."

So when I say my goal is to be more vulgar, I'm mostly just talking about this crazy endeavor I've undertaken to read the entire Protestant Bible in its original languages in one year. Yes, my goal is to read the Bible in those commonplace languages in which it was first written: Hebrew and (Koine) Greek.

I hesitated to announce this absurd plan to the masses (get it? har har har) because let's be honest: it's pretty much a brag. "Ooooooh, lookit meeeeee! I can read the Bible in the original languages! Oooooooh! I'm sooooooo impressive!" Brag, brag, brag.

I am not denying I am bad about bragging.

But in this case, I'm sharing for a few reasons, and you being impressed with me is not on the list. Okay, fine. It's at the bottom of the list. I admit it, okay? (dammit.)

Pretty high on the list is that I'd love prayer and encouragement. I'm in a really great Facebook group of like-minded individuals who have far more discipline, organizational skills, and vocabulary memorized than do I, so I've got great accountability. (And I am not fishing for complements--I know my strengths, and being disciplined, organized, or vocabulary-ized is none of them. I am [mostly] okay with that.) But I only know one or two of those folks personally, and from what I can tell, most of them are not "common" people. They are seminarians and scholars, not stay-at-home parents and engineers.

And that actually brings me to top of my list of what I'm hoping to accomplish here. I'd also love to pray for and encourage you: a loved one who is both commonplace and extraordinary. Because if I'm honest, most days I will read over the assigned passages in the original languages, puzzle through them as best I can, understand very little, and then read the passages again in English. Perhaps, by this time next year, the daily habit will have schooled me well in my Greek and Hebrew, and I'll understand more than ever. Maybe not. But I will have read some Bible passages, and (perhaps more importantly) will have had to ask for forgiveness and to forgive myself for every day that I didn't read. And even on those days I do accomplish the reading, I will also have to repent of the desire to brag about how smart I am. Each and every day, I will need to be forgiven of forgetting that being a seminarian does not make me special. Daily, I will need reminders that I am a common person who is loved by a transcendent God. Attempting this resolution means that each day of 2018 I will have had to bring myself--not just my vulgar tongue, but my truly vulgar heart--to the feet of the living word, coming away transformed.

And that's what I want for all of us. Those of us who claim Christ, I want us--his beloved bride--to know Jesus better. Those of you that I know and love who aren't Christ-followers, I want you to know him better, too, so that you can make truly informed decisions about who he says he is and what that means for you. And for most of the folks who read this, that probably won't mean reading the Bible in the original languages. But I hope you can find some "vulgar" way to listen to God daily. Maybe it will mean committing to daily reading of the written scriptures in your first language. Maybe it will look like regularly listening to a podcast with commonplace, sometimes vulgar folks talking about Jesus. Perhaps you'll listen to sermons online. Maybe you'll listen to music from artists who are considered vulgar because they have the audacity to talk about real life and how messy things can get when we seek to rely on the Holy Spirit. Maybe you'll talk with folks on social media who, like myself, could use a little taming of their tongues, but are desperate to keep their hearts aflame. Perhaps you'll even spend more time talking to (and about) Jesus like the Psalmist, the Apostle Paul, Solomon, and others did--passionately, "earthily," and honestly.

I hope so. Let's be vulgar this year, friends.

Let us, in our everyday lives, seek that extraordinary one who came to this commonplace earth, had rough, calloused hands, and lived his entire life without indoor plumbing or washing machines.

Let us seek those vulgar ones who Christ came to save--the tax collectors, prostitutes, and sailors with whom he felt far more comfortable than the religious scholars of the day.

Let us be honest about our finite, needy condition, and find that God has come to dwell with us in mercy and in truth--not in spite of our vulgarity, but because of it.

From one sinner to another (damn!),
Chandra