Word of the Week – Betrothed

Word of the Week – Betrothed

As a historical writer, I’ve used the word betrothal plenty of times, since it was more common than engagement throughout much of history. But I’ve never actually paused to look up the root of the word! It makes total sense though, as I’m sure you’ll agree.

Betrothal is taken from the Old English treowth. Which means…read that word out loud and you’ll hear it, even if you didn’t immediately see it… TRUTH! Obviously, right? So betreowth is literally a pledge or promise to be true. When we committ ourselves to another and promise to marry them, we are promising to forsake all others for them, to be true to them. Betroth and its various forms (betrothal, betrothed) date from about 1300, which is to say, from the time Old English began turning into English.

A simple examination, but oh so much fun for this historical romance writer!

Belief and Truth

Belief and Truth

Back in the days when I spent an hour of every weekday reading aloud to my kids for school, it was no great surprise to me which books from our reading list my kids loved best: the novels. We always had a novel going, and they were usually classic (often Newbury Award winning) historical fiction selections that tied in with what we were studying in history. But it wasn’t long before Rowyn (as a primary schooler) would start asking the same question with every book.

Is this true?

At the time, I would explain historical fiction to him–that the characters themselves were from the author’s imagination, but that they were interacting with true events or showing us a true glimpse of the world in which they were set. And Rowyn would always make a face and say something along the lines of, “But I want it to be true.”

These old memories, now nearing a decade old, came back to me the other week as David and I were talking about theology on one of our morning walks. What, we were asking, does it really mean to believe in something? It’s an interesting question when you dig down below the face of it. We believe in God. We believe in Jesus. Using the word belief there tells us that the very word gets at something important, some need planted deep within the heart of humanity. 

But we use the same word for other things. We ask if children believe in Santa Claus. We talk about whether we believe in ghosts. And as a novelist, I hear all the time whether my plots or characters or twists are believable.

Combining that thought with Rowyn’s question brought me to a rather odd but inescapable quirk of the human mind and heart: Our belief does not hinge on whether something is true…but on whether we want it to be. We can be “willing to believe” something not because  the evidence is irrefutable or the facts beyond dispute, but simply because we find the story compelling or convincing.

Then there’s the flipside–we can choose not to believe something because we don’t like it. We once sat in a Bible study in which there was a questionable version read of a verse. We had the Greek in front of us, so we could say, “Actually, that’s not accurate. It reads like this.” And someone replied, “Well, I just don’t believe that.”

I recall just blinking at her. Here was a woman who professed to be a Christian and “believed the Bible to be true,” but who was unwilling to believe a particular statement irrefutably from the Bible and upheld in the majority of translations through time (if not that one particular one) because it didn’t align with her worldview. And it wasn’t even one of those verses that you can take out of context or which was poetic. It was a concept expounded on over and again in the Epistles (to put others above yourself). How, I wondered, can you just say you don’t believe it and expect that to be an argument against it?

And yet…how often do we all do that? Reject something because we don’t like it? How often do we cling to something untrue because we do like it? How often do we think that our very belief or unbelief is all that it should take to convince the world to think like we do?

It’s a concept that we’ve been talking over a lot as we think about miracles through the history of the Church, of healings associated with things like relics, of the mysteries of faith. When we’re looking on those things from the outside, our questions tend to be, “Did that really happen? I don’t know if I can believe it.” But the “truth” of it isn’t really what we’re objecting to. There are Eucharistic miracles, for instance (when communion wafers have been turned into flesh), that have been scientifically examined and confirmed. But people will still dismiss it. Not because it isn’t true according to the definitio of factual–but because they can’t believe it. Why can’t they believe it?

Because if they believe it, they have to admit to other things too. They have to accept the whole of faith. They have to accept as Truth other things they’ve denied. You can’t believe in a miracle without granting the validity of the God, the Church, and the people who performed it.

The real beauty is the reverse though. When we surrender our wills and our logic to God, suddenly we can believe in things that seemed impossible, because we hold Him as the ultimate Truth. We can believe in the Red Sea parted. We can believe in the dead rising. We can believe in Peter’s shadow healing people. We can believe in the blind receiving sight, in storms being calmed, in angels battling for us in the heavenly spheres. We believe it not because it’s believable, but because when we put our hand in God’s, He gives us the grace to accept as Truth what defies logic. He gives us the grace to want to believe, and so, to do so. The cry of that desperate father–Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!–suddenly comes into clarity.

We’re all capable of believing in what isn’t true…but the real triumph of faith is being able to believe in what is.

Word of the Week – Journal

Word of the Week – Journal

I admit it–I’m a little bit obsessed with anything that belongs on a desk. Notebooks, pens, journals, even paperclips and staplers make me grin. When I walk into an office supply store, it takes great restraint to look only for what I need and not every pretty shade of ink, fun notebook, or shiny new desk accessory. And journals in particular I find so tempting.

All those pretty blank pages. A beautiful cover. Sometimes even a ribbon marker! YES, PLEASE!

Do I have “too many” journals sitting on my desk as I type this? Some would say so. But they gave me the idea for today’s post, so let’s just call them inspiration. 😉

Journal comes from the Latin diurnalis, which means “daily.” If you’re like me, you may be looking at that jou and the diu and be scratching your head at the different sounds, but we have the French to thank/blame for that change. 😉 Keeping in mind that j in French makes a kind of soft d sound, it becomes easier to understand. Apparently this shift happens especially when the d is followed by an iu combo. So the French became jurnal, used for a book of daily accounts of work or travel.

Interestingly, when the word jumped from French to English in the 1300s, it was used solely as “a book of church services,” no doubt to track daily mass. By the late 1400s, it began to be used for any “book used to track daily accounts.” By about 1600, it took on the “personal diary” meaning. And finally, by 1728, it could be used for “a daily publication.”

I use mine for keeping track of prayer requests; organizing before and after trips; occasionally writing prayerful or faith musings; writing down dreams and goals; and most frequently for keeping track of my running to-do lists, so very much in that “daily accounts” sense. Are you a journal lover? What do you use yours for most often?

Throwback Thursday – New But Eternal

Throwback Thursday – New But Eternal

22 The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
    his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23 (ESV)

Original post published 10/10/2019

One of the most amazing things about our God is that He’s eternal. He exists somehow outside of our understanding of time, beyond the line of it that we perceive. We can understand the “unchanging” aspect of His nature best when we realize that change requires time, and He is not subject to it. Now, our perception of Him can change. Our understanding. That can evolve and grow over time, as we experience more and contemplate more. But God Himself remains unhindered by time. Eternal.
Perhaps this is also how His love can be unceasing. How His mercies can be new every morning. They are new…and yet older than anyone. As is everything else about our Lord.
Several months ago I came across a discussion about a current movement among women in the church, women whose message seems bound up in the idea that they’ve discovered something their mothers and grandmothers didn’t know about God. Okay…understanding can certainly evolve over time, so maybe. Until you ask those mothers and grandmothers, who look at these young women like they’re crazy and say, “Well of course. We’ve always known that. Weren’t you listening?”
On the one hand, this sort of example makes me shake my head in dismay–why can’t we just learn from those who come before without thinking we’ve grown beyond them, that we’re better, more faithful, closer to Him than they could have been? It’s really kind of strange–we look to the first century church for so much wisdom and so many examples…but many people also just dismiss those early church fathers out of hand, unless their words were canonized in the Bible. Not named Paul, James, John, or Peter? Sorry, dude. Not interested.
And there’s still something relevant to this idea of “new knowledge.” It is new. New every morning, like His mercies. It’s new to us. We get to discover it every day, every year, every generation. More, we must discover it anew, for ourselves. We have to find that thing that makes us go “Aha!” and internalize it. That thing that makes the faith ours, not just theirs.
There’s truth there. But there’s opportunity for deception too. Because we need to understand what that possessive pronoun means. It’s ours, not just theirs…but NOT “ours, so not theirs.”
See the distinction?
Faith, Christianity, Truth itself is not like a shoe. One person owning it doesn’t mean another can’t. It’s more like…a planet. We can all live here. There’s room. We can occupy different parts, we can travel around, seeking to understand. One person can study one aspect, another a different one. It’s big enough, mysterious enough to accommodate all our curiosity.
But let’s not fall into the trap of saying, “Oh, no, you’re so wrong to describe it as mountains. Clearly it’s plains. God wouldn’t have done that.” Or, to go back to my original example, “Look at this waterfall I’ve discovered, that’s been completely unknown until now!” (And it turns out to be Niagara Falls.)
The faith is new every morning. Every generation. But it is also–MUST also be eternal. Otherwise, why would it have survived this long? The Truth we discover today is the same Truth Jesus preached. The same Truth that founded the Church. The same Truth that led Christians onward before there was even a Bible compiled. The same Truth people have been contemplating and writing about and preaching about all these centuries.
We need to learn anew each day what those before us have already learned. We can follow their examples, we can build on their work. We can discover new facets…but chances are, if you pick up a few ancient works, you’ll find those same facets already explored. Because He is new every morning–always relevant, always discoverable, so vast we’ll never comprehend all of Him–but He is also eternal. Unchanging. The same today as at the dawn of time.
He is new every day for us. But let’s remember He was new every day, in the same way, for them. For all who have come before, and for all who come after. Our faith is ours, but we don’t own it. If anything, it ought to own us.
Word of the Week Revisit – Fall, Autumn, and Harvest

Word of the Week Revisit – Fall, Autumn, and Harvest

Original post published October 23, 2017

Saturday as the kids and I were driving Rowyn to a birthday party, they were observing that it was way too warm for fall, and all the trees were still green . . . and Xoë

then said, “I don’t like that we call it fall. It should be autumn. Why did we ever start doing that?”

I knew the basics, but they didn’t begin to satisfy my word-picky daughter (girl after my own heart! LOL), so since today is her birthday and this amazing girl is now 12 (should NOT be possible!), I figured I would do the word of her choice. =)

Not surprising, the primary meaning of fall–“a falling to the ground”–is as old as English itself, dating to Old English in the 1200s. The sense of “autumn” came along in the 1600s, a shortened version of the poetic “fall of the leaf,” a saying that originated round about 1540. In the 1600s, fall was used for the season in England quite often–I assume those English speakers who came to America used it, and it stayed in use here while it fell out of it in England, because these days only the US uses it.

Though let it be noted that autumn isn’t all that much older. Though a word in English from the late 1300s (from the French and the Latin, though its origins are a bit obscure), harvest was actually the word for the season until the 1500s, when autumn began to take over. So it appears that autumn only reigned for about a hundred years before fall entered the scene, and now both are used.

Interestingly, though words for the other seasons all seem to come from a common root across the Indo-European languages, autumn does not. There are a wide variety of words for it that have nothing in common–some that take their roots from “end, end of summer” ideas, and others from the colors that dominate the season, like red, still others with a meaning that hints at the beginning of winter.

Whatever you call the season, I hope you’re enjoying it as much as my autumn-born daughter does! Happy birthday, Xoë!

Xoë at her party yesterday, in Ancient Greek style–complete with a gold laurel crown.