We're beginning day three of our stay at my sister's house in Tennessee. We've had a very nice time so far. Once we arrived Monday night, we all sat around the living room and had our second Christmas. Leo is finally understanding the concept that there are more toys underneath all those odd, paper-wrapped, blobby objects. He seemed content enough to open a toy and start playing with it, so it was difficult to get him to move onto the next one. But just watching the scene, I couldn't help but think how unfortunate it is that we have to train him to not be content enough with that one toy to stay with it. He has to want more. Does he?
Seems to me that's a concept somewhere around the core of my self-diagnosed neurosis. Though the time to relax with everyone has been nice, my mind doesn't know how to relax. I've second-guessed, doubted, and tried reworking my rough plans for after graduation at least ten times since I got here. Good Lord, I have a whole semester of doing this ahead. And probably several freaking-out-don't-know-what-to-do blog posts, so here is my apology in advance for that. I'm caught in that place where I know it's not all about me and my choices and my desires and la-de-da, but then I also know I can't just sit around and watch the world happen around me either. This is the time in my life that I have to be proactive about everything I pursue. I suppose in those lovely days of being married and settled and what-not, a routine life develops. There is no life right now for me to even consider making a routine out of unless I want to sit on my parents' couch for ten years (I don't and I can't). So now I sit before doors 1, 2, and 3, too terrified to even touch the doorknob of any.
And as far as "rough plans" go, I'm currently looking at the New Teacher Project (TNTP), which was started by a girl who did Teach For America and decided to further the cause beyond the teach-for-two-years framework of Teach For America. TNTP makes a more direct effort at training teachers for careers and training them to be effective in high-need schools. The only way I think I qualify for this program is that I want the sort of change they want just as badly as they do. There's no guarantee I'd actually be an effective teacher. I'm a pretty terrible student myself, and I can't say I really care that much about academics. I like math because it's fun. I don't expect to go to a school and say, "Hey, see? This is fun!" and have everyone rigorously differentiating and integrating everything and its mother because I've shown them the light and the light is fun. If anything, I understand why they won't cooperate and just get the assignment done or bother studying for the test. I hated doing that, too, kid. No one ever lit my fire. I had who I imagine is one of the best math teachers in at least all of Virginia for my junior and senior years of high school, and I do strongly believe he's the reason I still loved math when I walked across the commencement stage. But I've seen his grief and his sorrow over the students who don't care and don't get it. I see that he is fueled by his ideal students, the students like me who get it and love it. He's in the dumps when he's lost in a swarm of unmotivated students.
And he is the one who is convinced that I need to be a math teacher. It all started one day in calculus my senior year when we were going over a challenging homework problem. He had the problem up on the board and random people were throwing out suggestions of how to start the problem and where to go with it. I sat and watched and noticed the guy next to me struggling with even the most basic of concepts we were discussing, so I turned to him to explain enough to get him caught up to where we were. Then, my teacher hushed all of the not-quite-right suggestions and asked me specifically how to do the problem. So I told him, and I explained why I did what I did. By chance, I was right (I wasn't always right), and that's when he said, "You need to be a math teacher." For the first time. I fought it long and hard, and I used my severe lack of motivation in college as an excuse still for not teaching. I hate school. I hate tests. I hate homework. Why on earth would I go into a classroom and expect my own students to be interested in doing these things? Do I really have to drag them along like my professors did for me in college? Will they shy away from me like I do with my professors because I can feel the shame of my "C-" in their classes when I look at their faces?
College isn't for me, but I did it. So here I stand with my barely respectable GPA thanks to all of my non-math classes, wondering if I should teach a bunch of unmotivated students like me. Maybe so. God will tell.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Thoughts on Therapy or Therapeutic Thoughts
I had my first counseling session ever yesterday. It didn't make me feel like as much of a crazy as I thought it might. In fact I came out seeing myself as a much more stable person than I thought I was. As far as the professionals and I know at this point, I'm not clinically depressed, meaning I don't need to be on medication for anything. I sat with Dr. Eva Abel yesterday and told her a lot of the stuff that you can likely find in the deep dark archives of this blog. We didn't get but so far considering these sessions are only an hour long and I'm used to conversations of this nature lasting until 4:00 a.m. with Sadie (because you can do stuff like that when you're in college). The doctor's take on the situation so far is that I am one of her "intelligent" patients, which I think means my depression phases are more a result of my thoughts and less on some sort of traumatic situation or period in the past. This I knew already. So she outlined a potential goal I could have if I continued therapy, which would be to accept that some questions will simply never be answered. I told her that is much easier said than done, and she agreed of course. I guess that's why it's a large, overarching goal. She also suggested I work on separating my deep thoughts from my emotions so that they will have less play on my behavior. Also easier said than done. This must be how therapists make money.
A weird part of everything is that this woman isn't a Christian therapist, so I'm not sure she can fully understand what it is I'm actually striving for intellectually--or rather, how I'm trying to figure out how faith can cooperate with intellect. She seems to think I should find a Christian leader person to talk to about this. That person should probably be my dad. I talk to him about it from time to time, but I may up the frequency. I think we'd both appreciate it.
Once the session was over, we scheduled to meet once more before I go back to school, because I don't think she's a quack and I enjoyed talking to her a lot. She's very expressive, which reminded me of Becca, and she has a certain spunk that reminded me of Noelle. And as silly as psychology seems to me, the truth of the matter is that I want desperately to talk about these things and if I can talk about them to someone who has made it her job to help me through it, well that just seems like a perfect situation.
Mumford & Sons have been playing in my car for over two months now, so as I was cranking up the heat in my freezing cold car and getting ready to back out of the parking space, I listened to what Marcus was singing:
"But you are not alone in this
And you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand"
So I thought about how God teaches me things in life--in talking to a psychologist who doesn't even know that God has a plan for me. I thought about finding truth in some of the most unexpected places and how important that has been in helping me understand God and His sufficiency even when I was running away from Him. I started to feel tented by God's sovereignty, and for once I wanted nothing but to curl up and rest within the comfort of His power over my mind, soul, and body.
A weird part of everything is that this woman isn't a Christian therapist, so I'm not sure she can fully understand what it is I'm actually striving for intellectually--or rather, how I'm trying to figure out how faith can cooperate with intellect. She seems to think I should find a Christian leader person to talk to about this. That person should probably be my dad. I talk to him about it from time to time, but I may up the frequency. I think we'd both appreciate it.
Once the session was over, we scheduled to meet once more before I go back to school, because I don't think she's a quack and I enjoyed talking to her a lot. She's very expressive, which reminded me of Becca, and she has a certain spunk that reminded me of Noelle. And as silly as psychology seems to me, the truth of the matter is that I want desperately to talk about these things and if I can talk about them to someone who has made it her job to help me through it, well that just seems like a perfect situation.
Mumford & Sons have been playing in my car for over two months now, so as I was cranking up the heat in my freezing cold car and getting ready to back out of the parking space, I listened to what Marcus was singing:
"But you are not alone in this
And you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand
Hold your hand"
So I thought about how God teaches me things in life--in talking to a psychologist who doesn't even know that God has a plan for me. I thought about finding truth in some of the most unexpected places and how important that has been in helping me understand God and His sufficiency even when I was running away from Him. I started to feel tented by God's sovereignty, and for once I wanted nothing but to curl up and rest within the comfort of His power over my mind, soul, and body.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
the post in which i admire many women, becca admires few
It's probably time for this blog to get out of my crazy head for a moment, especially since I get to spill it all out to my doctor in a couple of days anyway. So here, enjoy some lists Becca and I put together including some of our favorite women OF ALL TIME and why we love them. It starts with my faves, moves onto Becca's faves, and concludes with our joint faves. I typed for Becca while she spoke her reasoning to me, so according to her that's why she sounds like a five-year-old.
Katie's List
Zooey Deschanel
I didn't notice her much until she started She & Him with M. Ward. I was talking to an old high school friend about their single, "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?" and after watching the video, I fell in love with her personality. She's very free and spunky and adorable. She chooses excellent roles in films (especially (500) Days of Summer).
Daria
I watched Daria when I it aired on MTV, so I was really young, which is really strange. I don't know that I could really relate to her back then, but now I simply love her dry sarcasm and general whatever attitude. She doesn't take things too seriously, but when she does care about something she doesn't hide it and makes a point of doing something about it.
Jenny Lewis
Her band Rilo Kiley opened for Coldplay when I went to see them early on in high school, and I LOVED her music. That was back in the day that she was doing fun indie pop music, which is probably my favorite genre of music. Her lyrics can be kind of strange, but by nature of indie lyrics they're honest. And I can respect that about her.
Meg from Hercules
This probably doesn't come as much of a surprise to those who know me. She's the only Disney "princess" who isn't some sort of perfect female archetype that appeals to our ideals in women. Meg is raw and real with her angst and she, too, has a wonderful dry sarcasm. Apparently that quality will put anyone on my list. Excellent.
Becca
This explains most of it.
I also say "likewise" to most of her reasons for putting me on this list. I love her sense of humor, and I love that she can always understand and appreciate mine, even when it is simply psychotic. She's my best friend. Ever. She's my Gayle. ;)
Sylvia Plath
Yes, another sick twisted woman on my list. Would you really expect anything else? I loved Sylvia Plath in high school when I read The Bell Jar twice. And I don't usually read books twice... or once. I also have her collection of poems, Ariel, and I am mostly intrigued by the way she views life through the fog of her depression. I know that sounds creepy, but it's true. It fascinates me. This is my favorite poem of hers.
Bones
Yes, as in Temperance Brennan from the television show. I like her Vulcan qualities and how unknowingly hilarious she is all the time. And yes, there are both Deschanel ladies on my list.
Becca's List
Katie
Isn't it obvious?!?!?! She is the only one who completely understands my sense of humor, which is very important. There are so many times that I'll think something is hilarious but I can't share it with anyone because they'll think I'm stupid. But I know Katie will appreciate it (like QWOP). There are several other things I like about Katie. It's hard to think of them all right now. She doesn't judge me like all my other family members would, so I tell her more than I tell anyone else. She's my Oprah.
Anne Hathaway (minus all of her naked things)
When she's not naked, she is a classy individual. She is articulate and funny.
Anne of Green Gables
She's like the friend I wanted but I never had because she makes everything fun... cuz I don't know how to make things fun. Also, she loves to read and that's cool.
Belle
Another reader!!!!!!! I like that she's thoughtful (I love thoughtful people), and she is loyal, too.
SHARED LIST
Ayn Rand
Becca's reasoning:
I like her because she knows how to think reasonably and put it all into an entertaining novel form. Not many people can do that. I like the whole worldview she has, but she needs to add God. Otherwise, it's really good.
Katie's reasoning:
I agree with Becca's reasoning entirely. I wrote a 10-page research paper on Ayn Rand's philosophy, Objectivism, in my 10th grade English class. I was fresh off reading both The Fountainhead in 9th grade and Atlas Shrugged in 10th grade. She reveals how ridiculous a lot of our conventions are, but yeah, like Becca said, she does miss the whole actual reason for man.
Deb
Becca's reasoning:
She was the first best friend I ever had! I would always copy all the stuff that she did when we went through school because I thought, "That's such a good idea!" And I'd always do it. I like that she is so different from everyone else, and she's proud of it. I like that she likes me, because if Deborah likes you it's glowing praise.
Katie's reasoning:
She wasn't the first best friend I ever had! In fact, she despised me as a child, but I also looked up to her and copied what she did a lot because she was sodangcool. I do like her confidence and her competence in doing all of what she pursues. She also made the most adorable baby ever. Congrats.
Mom
Becca's reasoning:
She carried me in her womb and gave life to me. She likes to make my life easier for me, WHICH IS AWESOME. I like that she treats me like an adult (most of the time) and can actually joke around and have a real relationship with me now instead of being disciplinarian mom. She was a really good mom during the time period when she needed to worry about raising us correctly, but I like now that we've been raised and we can just talk like regular people.
Katie's reasoning:
I also love that I can joke around with her these days and see just how weird she is and probably always has been. I like it when I recognize funny quirks I got from her. Though her concern for my life can become extremely overwhelming, I still do appreciate how much she loves me and wants the absolute best for me all the time.
Pictured above are Grandma Phyllis on the left and Mom on the right during a friendly game of croquet (that Mom beasted).
Grandma Phyllis
Becca's reasoning:
I admire her relationship with God. I feel like I'll never have that, but I'd like to. I like that she doesn't choose favorites among her grandchildren. She makes super good food. Food is really important to me, so this is a big deal.
Katie's reasoning:
She's wicked awesome. My sisters and I like to say she reminds us of Julie Andrews. They do have certain similarities in mannerisms as well as personality and interactions with people. So if you love Julie Andrews, you would love grandma. But even if you don't, you'd probably still love grandma. She's precious.
Katie's List
Zooey Deschanel
I didn't notice her much until she started She & Him with M. Ward. I was talking to an old high school friend about their single, "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?" and after watching the video, I fell in love with her personality. She's very free and spunky and adorable. She chooses excellent roles in films (especially (500) Days of Summer).
Daria
I watched Daria when I it aired on MTV, so I was really young, which is really strange. I don't know that I could really relate to her back then, but now I simply love her dry sarcasm and general whatever attitude. She doesn't take things too seriously, but when she does care about something she doesn't hide it and makes a point of doing something about it.
Jenny Lewis
Her band Rilo Kiley opened for Coldplay when I went to see them early on in high school, and I LOVED her music. That was back in the day that she was doing fun indie pop music, which is probably my favorite genre of music. Her lyrics can be kind of strange, but by nature of indie lyrics they're honest. And I can respect that about her.
Meg from Hercules
This probably doesn't come as much of a surprise to those who know me. She's the only Disney "princess" who isn't some sort of perfect female archetype that appeals to our ideals in women. Meg is raw and real with her angst and she, too, has a wonderful dry sarcasm. Apparently that quality will put anyone on my list. Excellent.
Becca
This explains most of it.
I also say "likewise" to most of her reasons for putting me on this list. I love her sense of humor, and I love that she can always understand and appreciate mine, even when it is simply psychotic. She's my best friend. Ever. She's my Gayle. ;)
Sylvia Plath
Yes, another sick twisted woman on my list. Would you really expect anything else? I loved Sylvia Plath in high school when I read The Bell Jar twice. And I don't usually read books twice... or once. I also have her collection of poems, Ariel, and I am mostly intrigued by the way she views life through the fog of her depression. I know that sounds creepy, but it's true. It fascinates me. This is my favorite poem of hers.
Bones
Yes, as in Temperance Brennan from the television show. I like her Vulcan qualities and how unknowingly hilarious she is all the time. And yes, there are both Deschanel ladies on my list.
Becca's List
Katie
Isn't it obvious?!?!?! She is the only one who completely understands my sense of humor, which is very important. There are so many times that I'll think something is hilarious but I can't share it with anyone because they'll think I'm stupid. But I know Katie will appreciate it (like QWOP). There are several other things I like about Katie. It's hard to think of them all right now. She doesn't judge me like all my other family members would, so I tell her more than I tell anyone else. She's my Oprah.
Anne Hathaway (minus all of her naked things)
When she's not naked, she is a classy individual. She is articulate and funny.
Anne of Green Gables
She's like the friend I wanted but I never had because she makes everything fun... cuz I don't know how to make things fun. Also, she loves to read and that's cool.
Belle
Another reader!!!!!!! I like that she's thoughtful (I love thoughtful people), and she is loyal, too.
SHARED LIST
Ayn Rand
Becca's reasoning:
I like her because she knows how to think reasonably and put it all into an entertaining novel form. Not many people can do that. I like the whole worldview she has, but she needs to add God. Otherwise, it's really good.
Katie's reasoning:
I agree with Becca's reasoning entirely. I wrote a 10-page research paper on Ayn Rand's philosophy, Objectivism, in my 10th grade English class. I was fresh off reading both The Fountainhead in 9th grade and Atlas Shrugged in 10th grade. She reveals how ridiculous a lot of our conventions are, but yeah, like Becca said, she does miss the whole actual reason for man.
Deb
Becca's reasoning:
She was the first best friend I ever had! I would always copy all the stuff that she did when we went through school because I thought, "That's such a good idea!" And I'd always do it. I like that she is so different from everyone else, and she's proud of it. I like that she likes me, because if Deborah likes you it's glowing praise.
Katie's reasoning:
She wasn't the first best friend I ever had! In fact, she despised me as a child, but I also looked up to her and copied what she did a lot because she was sodangcool. I do like her confidence and her competence in doing all of what she pursues. She also made the most adorable baby ever. Congrats.
Mom
Becca's reasoning:
She carried me in her womb and gave life to me. She likes to make my life easier for me, WHICH IS AWESOME. I like that she treats me like an adult (most of the time) and can actually joke around and have a real relationship with me now instead of being disciplinarian mom. She was a really good mom during the time period when she needed to worry about raising us correctly, but I like now that we've been raised and we can just talk like regular people.
Katie's reasoning:
I also love that I can joke around with her these days and see just how weird she is and probably always has been. I like it when I recognize funny quirks I got from her. Though her concern for my life can become extremely overwhelming, I still do appreciate how much she loves me and wants the absolute best for me all the time.
Pictured above are Grandma Phyllis on the left and Mom on the right during a friendly game of croquet (that Mom beasted).
Grandma Phyllis
Becca's reasoning:
I admire her relationship with God. I feel like I'll never have that, but I'd like to. I like that she doesn't choose favorites among her grandchildren. She makes super good food. Food is really important to me, so this is a big deal.
Katie's reasoning:
She's wicked awesome. My sisters and I like to say she reminds us of Julie Andrews. They do have certain similarities in mannerisms as well as personality and interactions with people. So if you love Julie Andrews, you would love grandma. But even if you don't, you'd probably still love grandma. She's precious.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Matters of Awesomeness and Not Awesomeness
Once upon a time I got tested by my doctor to see whether I am actually clinically depressed. This was a couple of years ago, I think. She told me I'm not depressed, but yes, I'm on the slightly depressed end of the scale. I figure that sort of sucks, but hey, it's manageable. I know that it's simply not likely that I will ever be the happy-go-lucky type and it maybe won't ever be a consistent practice of mine to notice all of the half-full glasses around me. My weaknesses and my doubts are wonderful things that force me back into communion with God.
One of the girls I tutor who typically struggles with math was on fire this morning, and we breezed through four lessons. It was awesome.
This evening I met with a friend who desperately needed help with Statistics, and I was unable to help her given the really tight time constraint and urgency of the situation. I didn't feel like a failure for this, but I did have to watch her feel like a failure. That was hard. It wasn't all that awesome.
There are highs and there are lows. I get them. I feel them. I'm not depressed--just sometimes. That's normal. I think the fact that life can't always be peachy is an okay thing to be sad or upset about. I still want to get out of bed each morning, and I still want to figure out how to glorify God with the time He's given me on Earth.
My mom still thinks I might have mental issues, so I have another appointment on Monday to see if I'm crazy. Becca doesn't think I am, and I don't really think I am either. Still, it'll be nice to talk to someone about it directly--my sanity, that is. Plus, I get to talk about God to my doctor because He does play a big part in my psyche. So that's awesome.
One of the girls I tutor who typically struggles with math was on fire this morning, and we breezed through four lessons. It was awesome.
This evening I met with a friend who desperately needed help with Statistics, and I was unable to help her given the really tight time constraint and urgency of the situation. I didn't feel like a failure for this, but I did have to watch her feel like a failure. That was hard. It wasn't all that awesome.
There are highs and there are lows. I get them. I feel them. I'm not depressed--just sometimes. That's normal. I think the fact that life can't always be peachy is an okay thing to be sad or upset about. I still want to get out of bed each morning, and I still want to figure out how to glorify God with the time He's given me on Earth.
My mom still thinks I might have mental issues, so I have another appointment on Monday to see if I'm crazy. Becca doesn't think I am, and I don't really think I am either. Still, it'll be nice to talk to someone about it directly--my sanity, that is. Plus, I get to talk about God to my doctor because He does play a big part in my psyche. So that's awesome.
Monday, December 13, 2010
I Will Follow You Into the Dark
Mom says I need to find someone to talk to who can understand the way I think.
Well yes, that'd be ideal.
Thus far my challenge in finding those people is that they are generally not Christians.
And I think there's something to learn and actually pursue there.
I know that Christian fellowship is important. That was one of those harsh lessons I learned during freshman year when I had my "I can handle my own spirituality without you hypocritical Christians" phase. It was when I stared in the face of my own hypocrisy and flaws that I was able to lay down my pride and walk through the front doors of the BCM. (Un)fortunately, I'm still not over my frustration with Christians/Christianity, and I include myself in that frustration. I'm frustrated with myself, us, them, and most generally I am frustrated with sin.
And that's good!
Also, that's how I feel more comfortable and like-minded talking to non-Christians about the matter. Who is more frustrated with Christians than non-Christians, eh? Who hates the exclusivity, the holier-than-thou attitudes, the formulas, the spiritual hierarchy, etc. more than those people?
What really is unfortunate is the fact that I start to define God by these terms. I start viewing God as an exclusive God, trapped within a book cover and performing according to the whims of culture comfort. I get so wrapped up in my frustrations that I fail to seek out the God who is there--the real, unchanging, unfathomable, loving, gracious, merciful Being above everything. I realized I had lost my desire for God, so I went up to my dad's office and started looking around.
"What are you looking for?" -Dad
"Piper's Desiring God." -Me
*Finds book.*
*Starts reading book and gets really excited about God again.*
Through all of this (and I think this is what I've been trying to get at for a long time), I think it's probably a passion of mine to acknowledge humanity at its ugliest in such a way that I can glorify God in His perfection without alienating those of unbelief. I want to understand them and be with them, too. Christian bubbles are uncomfortable. I'd rather fight down the demons in my path than take the rosy path around the muck. I want to be in both places at once--within the depths of woe but praising a victorious God all-the-while.
Well yes, that'd be ideal.
Thus far my challenge in finding those people is that they are generally not Christians.
And I think there's something to learn and actually pursue there.
I know that Christian fellowship is important. That was one of those harsh lessons I learned during freshman year when I had my "I can handle my own spirituality without you hypocritical Christians" phase. It was when I stared in the face of my own hypocrisy and flaws that I was able to lay down my pride and walk through the front doors of the BCM. (Un)fortunately, I'm still not over my frustration with Christians/Christianity, and I include myself in that frustration. I'm frustrated with myself, us, them, and most generally I am frustrated with sin.
And that's good!
Also, that's how I feel more comfortable and like-minded talking to non-Christians about the matter. Who is more frustrated with Christians than non-Christians, eh? Who hates the exclusivity, the holier-than-thou attitudes, the formulas, the spiritual hierarchy, etc. more than those people?
What really is unfortunate is the fact that I start to define God by these terms. I start viewing God as an exclusive God, trapped within a book cover and performing according to the whims of culture comfort. I get so wrapped up in my frustrations that I fail to seek out the God who is there--the real, unchanging, unfathomable, loving, gracious, merciful Being above everything. I realized I had lost my desire for God, so I went up to my dad's office and started looking around.
"What are you looking for?" -Dad
"Piper's Desiring God." -Me
*Finds book.*
*Starts reading book and gets really excited about God again.*
Through all of this (and I think this is what I've been trying to get at for a long time), I think it's probably a passion of mine to acknowledge humanity at its ugliest in such a way that I can glorify God in His perfection without alienating those of unbelief. I want to understand them and be with them, too. Christian bubbles are uncomfortable. I'd rather fight down the demons in my path than take the rosy path around the muck. I want to be in both places at once--within the depths of woe but praising a victorious God all-the-while.
Friday, December 10, 2010
a break might be nice.
Sara, a co-worker and friend of both Claire and me, came over for our apartment's "French" dinner a couple of nights ago. The quotes are to signify how very Italian our meal was at the core--what with the pizza and bread and such. The French spin came in with the French bread, brie, and goat cheese. Oh, and the French wine. But anyway, the most significant part of the meal for me was how great Sara's company was. She carried conversation--shared about herself and inquired about the strangers sitting across from her at the table. I like the way she talks and the topics she chooses to discuss. Earlier today I told Claire what a "good person" I perceive Sara to be. Sara claims to be a Christian but also confesses she is not a "good one." I imagine she's just as confused about what a "good" Christian should look like as I am.
That's when I basked in a bite of solidarity. And when I discovered how much I am slipping.
Discovered may be the wrong word. I've noticed. I'm not that dense after the infamous hell that was last fall. Somehow it doesn't work to say that Jesus fixes these things. That's where I am right now. I'm in that place where I can open my Bible to read it, but I may as well be one of my religion professors searching for another academic gem that will add to some long-standing thesis I've been developing. They're just curious and they go into Scripture for a very specific thing they want.
I hate that, and I hate it when I do that. I hate the idea of *using* the Bible to fix my quick tiffs and woes. It can be so difficult for me to reach the deepest depths of despair that I have ever experienced (as shallow as they actually are) and fully yearn for Jesus to be the Savior out of that. I read about how God's grace is sufficient. I believe that. But in that moment--cynicism capsizing reason--it don't work. I don't have that faith. I see it in my roommates and in several other friends, and I hear them discuss it right in my presence. All I can do is sit there like a doofus and stare off into space wondering what the first step is in the right direction besides a desperate, faithless prayer. And then I type about it and toss it out there for vultures and Samaritans alike to take what they want out of this circumstance I'm in. I'd like to know what God is doing here, but I don't.
That's when I basked in a bite of solidarity. And when I discovered how much I am slipping.
Discovered may be the wrong word. I've noticed. I'm not that dense after the infamous hell that was last fall. Somehow it doesn't work to say that Jesus fixes these things. That's where I am right now. I'm in that place where I can open my Bible to read it, but I may as well be one of my religion professors searching for another academic gem that will add to some long-standing thesis I've been developing. They're just curious and they go into Scripture for a very specific thing they want.
I hate that, and I hate it when I do that. I hate the idea of *using* the Bible to fix my quick tiffs and woes. It can be so difficult for me to reach the deepest depths of despair that I have ever experienced (as shallow as they actually are) and fully yearn for Jesus to be the Savior out of that. I read about how God's grace is sufficient. I believe that. But in that moment--cynicism capsizing reason--it don't work. I don't have that faith. I see it in my roommates and in several other friends, and I hear them discuss it right in my presence. All I can do is sit there like a doofus and stare off into space wondering what the first step is in the right direction besides a desperate, faithless prayer. And then I type about it and toss it out there for vultures and Samaritans alike to take what they want out of this circumstance I'm in. I'd like to know what God is doing here, but I don't.
Monday, November 29, 2010
More Negative Drivel
My eyes have been opened recently to the magnitude of my negativity. I could sit here and blame it on being raised listening to to my mom's family sit around and talk negatively about this person/place/thing or that person/place/thing. That probably has had its influence in some way. I could blame a little on nurture and a little on nature. Blame is a nice finger-pointing position up until the point that I see it doesn't change the reality of my current situation and the reality of perceptions of me that don't rely so heavily on my sources of blame. It may not be my fault in some ways that I am who I am and that may seem unfair, but I think C.S. Lewis would use that as another example of how Satan gets a foothold.
Lately I've been getting really sick of myself and I've especially been getting sick of being sick of stuff. I'm sick of disliking churches. I'm sick of disliking Christianity. I'm sick of my fixations on people/things. I'm sick of my lack of ambition. I'm sick of believing I deserve better. I'm sick of my doubt. I'm sick of being prone to doubt. I'm sick of the negativity here in saying that I'm sick of everything.
I may even be sick of honesty. Sometimes I think if I were less jaded and more prone to trusting, believing, having faith and all that then I would probably be much more useful in this life, and I would probably have more joy. I wonder if there actually is any intended purpose in me being who I am right now. Sometimes I want to be better but most of the time I don't want that enough to actually work toward that end.
My mom told me once that I would probably have so much joy being a missionary. I have reservations about that. I know how fickle I can be. Camp was one of the most joyous experiences of my life, but I rarely spent alone time with God--even as much as that was encouraged by all of my superiors and my peers alike. I still don't spend all that much alone time with God, and when I do it's usually full of a lot shame on my end at how much my thoughts and actions show that my allegiance doesn't appear to be where I want to say it is. I feel like I'm spiritually a 5-year-old all the time. My mom tells me to say sorry to that little girl whose feelings I hurt and I mutter a half-hearted, "Sorry." I'm half-hearted in my relationship with God so usually I sit waiting for an alarm to awaken my latent soul.
"Roll Away Your Stone" -Mumford & Sons
Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine
Together we can see what we will find
Don’t leave me alone at this time,
For I'm afraid of what I will discover inside
Cause you told me that I would find a hole,
Within the fragile substance of my soul
And I have filled this void with things unreal,
And all the while my character it steals
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
It seems that all my bridges have been burned,
But you say that’s exactly how this grace thing works
It’s not the long walk home that will change this heart,
But the welcome I receive with the restart
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I've seen
Stars hide your fires,
These here are my desires
And I won't give them up to you this time around
And so, I’ll be found with my stake stuck in this ground
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul
But you, you’ve gone too far this time
You have neither reason nor rhyme
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine
Lately I've been getting really sick of myself and I've especially been getting sick of being sick of stuff. I'm sick of disliking churches. I'm sick of disliking Christianity. I'm sick of my fixations on people/things. I'm sick of my lack of ambition. I'm sick of believing I deserve better. I'm sick of my doubt. I'm sick of being prone to doubt. I'm sick of the negativity here in saying that I'm sick of everything.
I may even be sick of honesty. Sometimes I think if I were less jaded and more prone to trusting, believing, having faith and all that then I would probably be much more useful in this life, and I would probably have more joy. I wonder if there actually is any intended purpose in me being who I am right now. Sometimes I want to be better but most of the time I don't want that enough to actually work toward that end.
My mom told me once that I would probably have so much joy being a missionary. I have reservations about that. I know how fickle I can be. Camp was one of the most joyous experiences of my life, but I rarely spent alone time with God--even as much as that was encouraged by all of my superiors and my peers alike. I still don't spend all that much alone time with God, and when I do it's usually full of a lot shame on my end at how much my thoughts and actions show that my allegiance doesn't appear to be where I want to say it is. I feel like I'm spiritually a 5-year-old all the time. My mom tells me to say sorry to that little girl whose feelings I hurt and I mutter a half-hearted, "Sorry." I'm half-hearted in my relationship with God so usually I sit waiting for an alarm to awaken my latent soul.
"Roll Away Your Stone" -Mumford & Sons
Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine
Together we can see what we will find
Don’t leave me alone at this time,
For I'm afraid of what I will discover inside
Cause you told me that I would find a hole,
Within the fragile substance of my soul
And I have filled this void with things unreal,
And all the while my character it steals
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
It seems that all my bridges have been burned,
But you say that’s exactly how this grace thing works
It’s not the long walk home that will change this heart,
But the welcome I receive with the restart
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I've seen
Stars hide your fires,
These here are my desires
And I won't give them up to you this time around
And so, I’ll be found with my stake stuck in this ground
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul
But you, you’ve gone too far this time
You have neither reason nor rhyme
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine
Monday, November 22, 2010
Something Pretty
Painting again! Currently I'm working on a painting for one who must not be named (for the just in case circumstance that this person is reading these words right now), and I got very excited at the idea of making a playlist for the painting. Then I started thinking how cool it would be to not only have the playlist for my listening pleasure and inspiration while painting but to also burn it to a disc and make it an accompanying gift with the painting. I'll probably start doing this, but for this particular painting, I found myself pulled solely to Enya (you're welcome or sorry to you-who-must-not-be-named (timely HP reference))--perhaps by the nature of the painting. But I think mostly it was me yearning for something pretty.
Now, there is a song called "Something Pretty" by Patrick Park. It's not really a great song, but I got hooked on it at some point this summer when I borrowed one of those OC season mixes from the library and got the song then. I walked to my first class this semester listening to this song on repeat, not recognizing the lyrics' foreshadowing for the culmination of my learning experiences this semester. Most of the song is pretty depressing... all about loneliness and ugliness and stuff, but mostly the singer begs for [you] to "show me something pretty." I didn't know then that I would be begging the same thing now at the end of the semester. I especially didn't know I'd be begging it of myself.
I'd probably have to write a lot and somehow acquire a lot of patience I don't have in order to fully unfold what I'm trying to get at, so that's not likely to happen. As I said last year, I become extra attuned to blessings and moments of nostalgia before breaks. Just a few minutes ago, I got a text from my freshman year roommate Adrienne that reads, "Listening to the song 'The Milkmaid," reminds me of you and good old freshman year.'" Me too, Adrienne, me too. In some ways I actually look back on who I was freshman year as a good representation of who "Something Pretty" is talking about. No, I don't think I was really just a "dumb punk kid," but I do think I've grown a lot since then. I've grown enough to see how much more I still need to grow. It's gotten to the point that I stood in church yesterday and before service really started, I prayed that God would show me something pretty. I prayed for God to show me those things I don't even know to ask for: love I can't understand, a faith that breaks my rational barriers, timely reading of Scripture that brings me to my knees in life-changing convictions. I begged to be something more than a "dumb punk kid." I want to be more than myself, because who I am is not a great place to settle. I don't want another year to go by and only wind up saying, "here I am, where I've been."
I think I've written a lot about clinging to who I am. At least, I've thought about it a lot. At freshman group, I got everyone to write down a long term goal they have for their lives. Mine was malleability to become who God has purposed me to be. I guess God will have his way with me no matter what, but I don't want to always have to look back over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of a passing blessed moment. I want to not only be conscious of the ways I'm changing but to also make great strides in changing myself in the ways I know I need to change. I'd like to stop complaining about the things that are wrong with me and actually open myself up to changing those things. This might require me to be who I'm not. This might test all the limits I've put on honesty and genuineness, my most prized possessions. But I'm pretty sure Jesus spit a big wad of "no" on my possessions long ago when he told me to throw all that away and follow Him. I guess I do know ugliness, but I'm begging God to show me something pretty, which is something He always promised He would do.
Now, there is a song called "Something Pretty" by Patrick Park. It's not really a great song, but I got hooked on it at some point this summer when I borrowed one of those OC season mixes from the library and got the song then. I walked to my first class this semester listening to this song on repeat, not recognizing the lyrics' foreshadowing for the culmination of my learning experiences this semester. Most of the song is pretty depressing... all about loneliness and ugliness and stuff, but mostly the singer begs for [you] to "show me something pretty." I didn't know then that I would be begging the same thing now at the end of the semester. I especially didn't know I'd be begging it of myself.
I'd probably have to write a lot and somehow acquire a lot of patience I don't have in order to fully unfold what I'm trying to get at, so that's not likely to happen. As I said last year, I become extra attuned to blessings and moments of nostalgia before breaks. Just a few minutes ago, I got a text from my freshman year roommate Adrienne that reads, "Listening to the song 'The Milkmaid," reminds me of you and good old freshman year.'" Me too, Adrienne, me too. In some ways I actually look back on who I was freshman year as a good representation of who "Something Pretty" is talking about. No, I don't think I was really just a "dumb punk kid," but I do think I've grown a lot since then. I've grown enough to see how much more I still need to grow. It's gotten to the point that I stood in church yesterday and before service really started, I prayed that God would show me something pretty. I prayed for God to show me those things I don't even know to ask for: love I can't understand, a faith that breaks my rational barriers, timely reading of Scripture that brings me to my knees in life-changing convictions. I begged to be something more than a "dumb punk kid." I want to be more than myself, because who I am is not a great place to settle. I don't want another year to go by and only wind up saying, "here I am, where I've been."
I think I've written a lot about clinging to who I am. At least, I've thought about it a lot. At freshman group, I got everyone to write down a long term goal they have for their lives. Mine was malleability to become who God has purposed me to be. I guess God will have his way with me no matter what, but I don't want to always have to look back over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of a passing blessed moment. I want to not only be conscious of the ways I'm changing but to also make great strides in changing myself in the ways I know I need to change. I'd like to stop complaining about the things that are wrong with me and actually open myself up to changing those things. This might require me to be who I'm not. This might test all the limits I've put on honesty and genuineness, my most prized possessions. But I'm pretty sure Jesus spit a big wad of "no" on my possessions long ago when he told me to throw all that away and follow Him. I guess I do know ugliness, but I'm begging God to show me something pretty, which is something He always promised He would do.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
A Feast of Fools
My mom thanked me yesterday for introducing her to Pandora this summer. It has apparently revolutionized her work hours, so I told her I'll hook her up with some AOL Radio if she wants. She promptly declined, stating that she doesn't intend to overstimulate herself.
Keep it simple, stupid. Or is it just simple stupid? Could be either one here.
I do understand her aversion to the idea. I just picked up my laptop with the intention of writing this blog post and, as usual, got lost in the forest of facebook, twitter, and random searches and blogs along the way before my little puppy ears perked up at the high pitch of the "To the Life!" whistle. It's not that I am required to write this post, but I've been inspired, which hasn't been a common occurrence in my world this semester. Inspiration. Pah.
The inspiration here comes from reading a book that finally articulates these thoughts that have been slowly forming in my mind over the course of this semester, especially over the course of this past month as I've even been struggling to drag myself to church every Sunday. Sounds terrible, don't it? The truth is dirty sometimes, but fortunately that grime only stains the crevices of this earth.
Anyway, it all started when Sadie brought home one of those "Read with Discernment" warnings from Lifeway that she was handed upon her purchase of Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz. I didn't know about these things, but they've apparently been warning readers against reading Don Miller's book as though it is the very Word of God. Good call, Lifeway. I got pretty annoyed that they decided to single out Don Miller when we Christians should probably be discerning everything we read, including such greats as John Piper and RC Sproul. Don Miller never claimed to be a theologian as far as I know. The dude's just got a story to tell, but I don't think he's under any sort of illusion that he is bringing The Message to the world by essentially writing his own biography and testimony to what God has done in his life.
So I made it my mission to head over to Lifeway, purchase a book by Don Miller, and refuse a copy of the discernment guide, which would afford me the opportunity to suggest maybe not singling out one non-canonical author but perhaps throwing a blanket over all of them (given all of this warning business is really that necessary).
But since I already own a copy of Blue Like Jazz, I grabbed A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. However, I had already decided at this point that I wouldn't take up the issue with these nice-looking folks since it really is a corporate matter, and for all I know the manager of this particular Lifeway may feel the same way I do about the policy. I've convinced myself at this point that he/she does--just a small comfort to appease myself.
The sweet old lady at the register didn't even hand me one of the discernment guides anyway, but she did look at me a bit disparagingly when I didn't want to purchase a Jesus bag for $1. "Sorry, I don't really do bags," doesn't seem to be a good enough reason to withhold an extra dollar. Good thing that store smells like [Son]shine and Christmas. Redemption.
Redemption continued when I reached the end of chapter twenty-nine of this book not too long ago and decided I found *it*. Special asterisks for a special it, yes. I guess I'll start explaining *it* by throwing down some of the words that struck me:
"We all get worked into a frenzy over things that will not happen until Jesus returns. The truth is, we can make things a little better or a little worse, but utopia doesn't hang in the balance of our vote or of what products we buy."
"But I've also let go of the idea things will ever be made perfect, at least while I am walking around on this planet. I've let go of the idea that this life has a climax... When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you'd be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you'd be surprised how much you like spending time with God."
I like that there are several Christian authors these days lamenting how cheap we've made God. If I am honest with myself, my primary frustration is most likely rooted in how cheap I've made God for myself. How easily I get trapped in this idea that God needs to fix things now, but he's not allowed to mess with this or that in the process. I cling to this idea that my personality is extremely important because without it, I have no identity. Please God, don't take away my sarcasm. That's my staple! That's my charm! It's kind of like I'm a pocketknife that won't let you use any of my features except for the knife because that's my best feature.
And so I noted that Don Miller is basically relaying the deeper message of Ecclesiastes. Everything will suck now if we actually do put all our expectations and desires in what we've got going on here. Miller furthered his point by saying Paul and the disciples would have been hard-pressed to promise a blissful life on earth with the amount of turmoil they went through. There was never any promise that everything will work out for our good here, but we do have that promise for when we get there. Jesus said, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Jesus always had his focus on the kingdom of heaven, and that is pretty significant. Why do we want to cheapen Him and distort His love with our own self-righteous political agenda or put a Jesus band-aid over every flesh wound that we eventually wind up ripping off once it becomes unnecessary?
It's not that Jesus isn't relevant to the here and now. That's clear by the fact that he became a man. But Jesus was resurrected from the dead and God put eternity on man's heart because that's where our treasure lies.
Don Miller concludes chapter twenty-nine: "Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won't be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast."
Keep it simple, stupid. Or is it just simple stupid? Could be either one here.
I do understand her aversion to the idea. I just picked up my laptop with the intention of writing this blog post and, as usual, got lost in the forest of facebook, twitter, and random searches and blogs along the way before my little puppy ears perked up at the high pitch of the "To the Life!" whistle. It's not that I am required to write this post, but I've been inspired, which hasn't been a common occurrence in my world this semester. Inspiration. Pah.
The inspiration here comes from reading a book that finally articulates these thoughts that have been slowly forming in my mind over the course of this semester, especially over the course of this past month as I've even been struggling to drag myself to church every Sunday. Sounds terrible, don't it? The truth is dirty sometimes, but fortunately that grime only stains the crevices of this earth.
Anyway, it all started when Sadie brought home one of those "Read with Discernment" warnings from Lifeway that she was handed upon her purchase of Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz. I didn't know about these things, but they've apparently been warning readers against reading Don Miller's book as though it is the very Word of God. Good call, Lifeway. I got pretty annoyed that they decided to single out Don Miller when we Christians should probably be discerning everything we read, including such greats as John Piper and RC Sproul. Don Miller never claimed to be a theologian as far as I know. The dude's just got a story to tell, but I don't think he's under any sort of illusion that he is bringing The Message to the world by essentially writing his own biography and testimony to what God has done in his life.
So I made it my mission to head over to Lifeway, purchase a book by Don Miller, and refuse a copy of the discernment guide, which would afford me the opportunity to suggest maybe not singling out one non-canonical author but perhaps throwing a blanket over all of them (given all of this warning business is really that necessary).
But since I already own a copy of Blue Like Jazz, I grabbed A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. However, I had already decided at this point that I wouldn't take up the issue with these nice-looking folks since it really is a corporate matter, and for all I know the manager of this particular Lifeway may feel the same way I do about the policy. I've convinced myself at this point that he/she does--just a small comfort to appease myself.
The sweet old lady at the register didn't even hand me one of the discernment guides anyway, but she did look at me a bit disparagingly when I didn't want to purchase a Jesus bag for $1. "Sorry, I don't really do bags," doesn't seem to be a good enough reason to withhold an extra dollar. Good thing that store smells like [Son]shine and Christmas. Redemption.
Redemption continued when I reached the end of chapter twenty-nine of this book not too long ago and decided I found *it*. Special asterisks for a special it, yes. I guess I'll start explaining *it* by throwing down some of the words that struck me:
"We all get worked into a frenzy over things that will not happen until Jesus returns. The truth is, we can make things a little better or a little worse, but utopia doesn't hang in the balance of our vote or of what products we buy."
"But I've also let go of the idea things will ever be made perfect, at least while I am walking around on this planet. I've let go of the idea that this life has a climax... When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you'd be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you'd be surprised how much you like spending time with God."
I like that there are several Christian authors these days lamenting how cheap we've made God. If I am honest with myself, my primary frustration is most likely rooted in how cheap I've made God for myself. How easily I get trapped in this idea that God needs to fix things now, but he's not allowed to mess with this or that in the process. I cling to this idea that my personality is extremely important because without it, I have no identity. Please God, don't take away my sarcasm. That's my staple! That's my charm! It's kind of like I'm a pocketknife that won't let you use any of my features except for the knife because that's my best feature.
And so I noted that Don Miller is basically relaying the deeper message of Ecclesiastes. Everything will suck now if we actually do put all our expectations and desires in what we've got going on here. Miller furthered his point by saying Paul and the disciples would have been hard-pressed to promise a blissful life on earth with the amount of turmoil they went through. There was never any promise that everything will work out for our good here, but we do have that promise for when we get there. Jesus said, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Jesus always had his focus on the kingdom of heaven, and that is pretty significant. Why do we want to cheapen Him and distort His love with our own self-righteous political agenda or put a Jesus band-aid over every flesh wound that we eventually wind up ripping off once it becomes unnecessary?
It's not that Jesus isn't relevant to the here and now. That's clear by the fact that he became a man. But Jesus was resurrected from the dead and God put eternity on man's heart because that's where our treasure lies.
Don Miller concludes chapter twenty-nine: "Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won't be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast."
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
A Time To
Going to a coffee shop to get things done may be a dangerous choice for one who is already jacked up on approximately four cups of coffee from this morning, and I can't say this medium hot chocolate is doing much to settle my nerves.
Now I'm hunkered down in a worn-out Caribou cushion, trying to read Ecclesiastes 3 through a physical and mental haze. The BCM freshmen and I are planning on delving into this bit of Scripture tomorrow evening, and I do believe this "lesson" is rather timely--at least for me.
This is the part where I address that I've been "leading" a freshman Bible study all semester with no real goal or agenda. This too may be a dangerous move, but with such a diverse group it is difficult to distinguish one specific need to which I should cater. All I know is that these freshmen should be figuring out all of those cryptic things like who they are in Christ and how to love God and others and themselves. There doesn't seem to be a formula for doing these things, and I especially can't assume that any of them even have these goals set for themselves.
That means we read the Bible, and I can only pray that God is speaking to them in ways that I don't know how to do. I can also hope that I don't misrepresent Ecclesiastes as the truly uplifting book it is and instead close out the school year with a room full of Debbie Downers.
And I tell them what I know. And I tell them that which I don't know. And I strive for honesty about myself and about how I see myself as a Christian. It's not that I think I'm so important to any of these people, but since I am a senior and I am their Bible study leader, I do know I have some influence here.
If I leave them wanting to adopt any quality I've displayed, I want that to be my genuineness. I want them to know that I was real, and that I was really real when I told them that I love them and that I want them to love God and to want to understand God. I want them to figure out how that works for them individually, and I want them to know that the world shouldn't shape their faith. I want them to be learning and discerning and caring and loving and trying and praying. I want to see the good and the potential in all of them, and I want them to see that in themselves and in each other.
There is a time to keep, and a time to cast away. This is my time to keep them in my care in a very direct way. This is when I fumble around trying to do the right thing while God really is doing the right thing for all of us. Soon enough it'll be time for me to cast myself away, and that's when I get to still rest assured that God is still doing the keeping business. For God, it's always a time to.
Now I'm hunkered down in a worn-out Caribou cushion, trying to read Ecclesiastes 3 through a physical and mental haze. The BCM freshmen and I are planning on delving into this bit of Scripture tomorrow evening, and I do believe this "lesson" is rather timely--at least for me.
This is the part where I address that I've been "leading" a freshman Bible study all semester with no real goal or agenda. This too may be a dangerous move, but with such a diverse group it is difficult to distinguish one specific need to which I should cater. All I know is that these freshmen should be figuring out all of those cryptic things like who they are in Christ and how to love God and others and themselves. There doesn't seem to be a formula for doing these things, and I especially can't assume that any of them even have these goals set for themselves.
That means we read the Bible, and I can only pray that God is speaking to them in ways that I don't know how to do. I can also hope that I don't misrepresent Ecclesiastes as the truly uplifting book it is and instead close out the school year with a room full of Debbie Downers.
And I tell them what I know. And I tell them that which I don't know. And I strive for honesty about myself and about how I see myself as a Christian. It's not that I think I'm so important to any of these people, but since I am a senior and I am their Bible study leader, I do know I have some influence here.
If I leave them wanting to adopt any quality I've displayed, I want that to be my genuineness. I want them to know that I was real, and that I was really real when I told them that I love them and that I want them to love God and to want to understand God. I want them to figure out how that works for them individually, and I want them to know that the world shouldn't shape their faith. I want them to be learning and discerning and caring and loving and trying and praying. I want to see the good and the potential in all of them, and I want them to see that in themselves and in each other.
There is a time to keep, and a time to cast away. This is my time to keep them in my care in a very direct way. This is when I fumble around trying to do the right thing while God really is doing the right thing for all of us. Soon enough it'll be time for me to cast myself away, and that's when I get to still rest assured that God is still doing the keeping business. For God, it's always a time to.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Church
Last night and this morning, Deb said she was not at all looking forward to going to church.
"But you're singing, right? You enjoy that."
"Yeah, I do like singing and I like the people, but I hate going to church."
I guess these words are pretty provocative. I remember often dreading going to church growing up--at least as far as having to sit through my dad's long, boring sermons. But I always assumed it would get better. I thought that when I became an adult like my parents, I would long for Sunday mornings the way they do, and I would hang on every word being sung in every hymn and every word being read from every passage of Scripture. I would feel the effect of those impassioned words getting caught in my father's throat, and I would empathize with those tears that stream from my mother's eyes when she sings a song to Jesus.
Ever since I stepped into "adulthood" my freshman year, I've had no yearning for any church I've attended. However, I do have a yearning for the church that will make it their intention to present the Gospel in such a way that I do hunger after it. After three years of church hopping in Fredericksburg, I started wondering whether I'm being too picky. I know that I won't find a perfect church, so I shouldn't expect that. But can't I at least expect that the chief aim of the church I attend will be to present the Gospel as it is without an over-arching emphasis on "becoming all things to all men?"
"19Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. 20To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. 21To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. 22To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. 23I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings." -1 Corinthians 9: 19-23
Paul does make it very clear that who we are is only important by measures of our malleability in being who God wants us to be. I may not be the best at speaking encouraging words to people, but God demands that I encourage my fellow believers; that's when I have to say "get over yourself" to my natural inhibitions and work toward doing and saying those things that God wants done and said. I expect the Gospel to be penetrating the weakness of my sinful heart.
So I expect it to do the same at church. I don't want my church to become all things to all men and lose sight of the Gospel in the process. We are to enslave ourselves to others for the purposes of God. We are not to enslave God to others for the purposes of our own.
I could be exaggerating a bit. I may be making a bigger deal out of things than I should. Wherever my thoughts on this are wrong or twisted are where I am finding it impossible to feel like I can be much part of any church congregation in Fredericksburg, and I am well convinced that this is not okay. So I am open to reproof. I need correction.
"But you're singing, right? You enjoy that."
"Yeah, I do like singing and I like the people, but I hate going to church."
I guess these words are pretty provocative. I remember often dreading going to church growing up--at least as far as having to sit through my dad's long, boring sermons. But I always assumed it would get better. I thought that when I became an adult like my parents, I would long for Sunday mornings the way they do, and I would hang on every word being sung in every hymn and every word being read from every passage of Scripture. I would feel the effect of those impassioned words getting caught in my father's throat, and I would empathize with those tears that stream from my mother's eyes when she sings a song to Jesus.
Ever since I stepped into "adulthood" my freshman year, I've had no yearning for any church I've attended. However, I do have a yearning for the church that will make it their intention to present the Gospel in such a way that I do hunger after it. After three years of church hopping in Fredericksburg, I started wondering whether I'm being too picky. I know that I won't find a perfect church, so I shouldn't expect that. But can't I at least expect that the chief aim of the church I attend will be to present the Gospel as it is without an over-arching emphasis on "becoming all things to all men?"
"19Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. 20To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. 21To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. 22To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. 23I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings." -1 Corinthians 9: 19-23
Paul does make it very clear that who we are is only important by measures of our malleability in being who God wants us to be. I may not be the best at speaking encouraging words to people, but God demands that I encourage my fellow believers; that's when I have to say "get over yourself" to my natural inhibitions and work toward doing and saying those things that God wants done and said. I expect the Gospel to be penetrating the weakness of my sinful heart.
So I expect it to do the same at church. I don't want my church to become all things to all men and lose sight of the Gospel in the process. We are to enslave ourselves to others for the purposes of God. We are not to enslave God to others for the purposes of our own.
I could be exaggerating a bit. I may be making a bigger deal out of things than I should. Wherever my thoughts on this are wrong or twisted are where I am finding it impossible to feel like I can be much part of any church congregation in Fredericksburg, and I am well convinced that this is not okay. So I am open to reproof. I need correction.
Friday, October 8, 2010
When Then is Now
"We've come full circle, Katie Jones." Meredith was joking with me in the car as I drove her to Rose Auto Shop on route 1 to get her dear Ishmael after yet another auto repair. I met Meredith for the first time last year when our mutual friend Molly asked me if I could give Meredith a ride to pick up her car from this same auto shop. A friendship was born through happenstance, and this recent consequence of our friendship brought us to a reminder of beginnings and endings. "We've come full circle, but this isn't the end of our friendship. Don't worry about that."
The looming end of college isn't something I've been dwelling on or worrying about. When the truth of the matter does pass through my mind, I still think in terms of possibilities. Places I could move. Jobs I could apply for. Education programs I could apply for. While the scope of my future seems much more limited than before, especially since I've hit my mathematical ceiling and discovered how absolutely terrible a student I am, there still seem to be so many options. There are different things I could be and different cultures of people I could meet. The ideas excite me in ways they did when I was seven-years-old, dead set on one day becoming an amazing dentist or doctor. As fun and educational this college experience has been, I don't for a second think this is it. By no means have I reached my ceiling in terms of purpose. One very thrilling feature of being a Christian is living by the biblical mantra: "God has a plan for me." If nothing else, we've got that.
Earlier today, I ran into Gemma as I was leaving the Nest after having eaten my lunch. She was about to grab some food and then head over to a nice grassy area on the side of Virginia hall under the shade of a tree for a picnic with her fellow freshmen. She invited me to come along, so I did. I sat there almost directly below the window of my very first dorm room at Mary Washington, and I sat amongst a group that so much reminded me of the group of girls I'd hang out with in the Virginia parlor almost every weekday at this same time of day my freshman year. I'd come full circle yet again, but I was experiencing it alone this time. These fresh and expectant young girls are only beginning their circle. They have all the possibilities of classes and majors and friends and growing independence. In a few years, they will be where I am right now, and I will be in the midst of some other season myself.
I'm not trying to head into a there's-nothing-new-under-the-sun track. On the contrary, all this nostalgia has put me in an abnormally optimistic mood. I've got a not-Obama-but-Jesus-infused hope in it all. Today, tomorrow, and all lengths of time God has promised for each of our respective futures. There is a time to dance, and that time is now.
The looming end of college isn't something I've been dwelling on or worrying about. When the truth of the matter does pass through my mind, I still think in terms of possibilities. Places I could move. Jobs I could apply for. Education programs I could apply for. While the scope of my future seems much more limited than before, especially since I've hit my mathematical ceiling and discovered how absolutely terrible a student I am, there still seem to be so many options. There are different things I could be and different cultures of people I could meet. The ideas excite me in ways they did when I was seven-years-old, dead set on one day becoming an amazing dentist or doctor. As fun and educational this college experience has been, I don't for a second think this is it. By no means have I reached my ceiling in terms of purpose. One very thrilling feature of being a Christian is living by the biblical mantra: "God has a plan for me." If nothing else, we've got that.
Earlier today, I ran into Gemma as I was leaving the Nest after having eaten my lunch. She was about to grab some food and then head over to a nice grassy area on the side of Virginia hall under the shade of a tree for a picnic with her fellow freshmen. She invited me to come along, so I did. I sat there almost directly below the window of my very first dorm room at Mary Washington, and I sat amongst a group that so much reminded me of the group of girls I'd hang out with in the Virginia parlor almost every weekday at this same time of day my freshman year. I'd come full circle yet again, but I was experiencing it alone this time. These fresh and expectant young girls are only beginning their circle. They have all the possibilities of classes and majors and friends and growing independence. In a few years, they will be where I am right now, and I will be in the midst of some other season myself.
I'm not trying to head into a there's-nothing-new-under-the-sun track. On the contrary, all this nostalgia has put me in an abnormally optimistic mood. I've got a not-Obama-but-Jesus-infused hope in it all. Today, tomorrow, and all lengths of time God has promised for each of our respective futures. There is a time to dance, and that time is now.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Scattered
I've found myself yearning for honesty. Usually that always means I'm yearning for the God whose presence has become lost amongst math problems, mailboxes, friends, sleep, etc. It seems I have a problem? I guess it's kind of a big one? And maybe it's not actually a problem. But anyway, with such an innate need for purpose in my life all the time, I find myself having to refocus. A lot. A good Christian reads her Bible everyday. She also prays everyday. Even though those rules aren't explicitly written in the Bible as law, they are pretty well supported throughout Scripture. Would I be more focused if I read the Bible every single day for the rest of my life and spent more time focusing my thoughts on prayer with God? Would I feel more purposeful then? What does God think of those days when I don't even give Him a passing glance? I don't know if a day will ever come when I will honestly yearn for God's word every single moment of every single day. More often than not, I feel more inclined to pick it up and read it like I would a novel, allowing myself the opportunity to simply put it down when a chapter ends or when my attention is diverted. No real need to reflect, but hey, I've given God the opportunity to smack me in the face with Truth if He so needs. I suppose that would be called a ball-is-in-your-court mentality, which definitely isn't biblical.
Why do I have to work so hard at something that should always satiate my need for purpose?
Why am I so terrible at doing that?
Mmmyup.
In other news, today is Noelle's wedding. The ceremony starts six minutes from when I'm typing this actually. I'm supposed to be there, but I've had what I suppose is the stomach flu since Tuesday. Does that not seem like a long time to have the stomach flu to you? I think I'm getting better, but as of about half an hour ago, it's evident I'm not in the clear just yet. So I figured I probably shouldn't drive up to a wedding and start infecting other people. Noelle will be married regardless. I will be extremely happy for her regardless. Pictures will suffice, and life will go on.
And in other news, I've been listening to the bands Tilly and the Wall and Noah and the Whale a lot lately. Funny how their names parallel. One awesome thing about Tilly and the Wall is that their beats are laid down with tap-dancing. Sweet! And one awesome thing about Noah and the Whale is this song.
The end.
Why do I have to work so hard at something that should always satiate my need for purpose?
Why am I so terrible at doing that?
Mmmyup.
In other news, today is Noelle's wedding. The ceremony starts six minutes from when I'm typing this actually. I'm supposed to be there, but I've had what I suppose is the stomach flu since Tuesday. Does that not seem like a long time to have the stomach flu to you? I think I'm getting better, but as of about half an hour ago, it's evident I'm not in the clear just yet. So I figured I probably shouldn't drive up to a wedding and start infecting other people. Noelle will be married regardless. I will be extremely happy for her regardless. Pictures will suffice, and life will go on.
And in other news, I've been listening to the bands Tilly and the Wall and Noah and the Whale a lot lately. Funny how their names parallel. One awesome thing about Tilly and the Wall is that their beats are laid down with tap-dancing. Sweet! And one awesome thing about Noah and the Whale is this song.
The end.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Anxiety
Pretty sure this has been the worst week all summer. I say summer as in the season, not the vacation from school since it is quite evident to me at this point that I am at school. I'm not angry at this fact--I don't think--but I sure can't figure out how to handle it right now.
I am not a go and do something all the time kind of person. If you step foot in my house, you'll most likely see a Jones in almost every room just chillin'. It's true I have a much bigger heart for adventure than the rest of my family, but that only says so much. Like them, I am still pretty introverted, and I need my rest. As much as the idea of alone time brings me down, it typically does serve to bring me up.
I am also not a multi-tasker. This is not to be confused with being lazy (though I am that, too). I really cannot handle working on more than one thing at a time. On top of that, I don't really organize my things or my life or really anything. The futile attempts I make at doing this often confuse me or stress me out even more. Lists are daunting.
And yet somehow this week, I found that I am being put to the challenge in all of these areas. My heart still feels like it's in my throat, and it's been lodged there since Sunday evening.
I'm not even ready for freshman group.
I already have no idea what's going on in my Abstract Algebra class.
I've already been the worst friend to all of the people I love most.
And the sooner I figure out that I will never be able to pull all of this off on my own, the better. Having a full schedule is completely normal in this country, but it's always been something I avoid out of fear. Guess it's time to get over the fear. Guess it's time to get over myself.
I am not a go and do something all the time kind of person. If you step foot in my house, you'll most likely see a Jones in almost every room just chillin'. It's true I have a much bigger heart for adventure than the rest of my family, but that only says so much. Like them, I am still pretty introverted, and I need my rest. As much as the idea of alone time brings me down, it typically does serve to bring me up.
I am also not a multi-tasker. This is not to be confused with being lazy (though I am that, too). I really cannot handle working on more than one thing at a time. On top of that, I don't really organize my things or my life or really anything. The futile attempts I make at doing this often confuse me or stress me out even more. Lists are daunting.
And yet somehow this week, I found that I am being put to the challenge in all of these areas. My heart still feels like it's in my throat, and it's been lodged there since Sunday evening.
I'm not even ready for freshman group.
I already have no idea what's going on in my Abstract Algebra class.
I've already been the worst friend to all of the people I love most.
And the sooner I figure out that I will never be able to pull all of this off on my own, the better. Having a full schedule is completely normal in this country, but it's always been something I avoid out of fear. Guess it's time to get over the fear. Guess it's time to get over myself.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Why People?
Considering the frequency of my blogging this summer, it seems like it's been forever since I last posted. I spent last week at a lakehouse up in the Adirondacks with my dear friend Sarah Holljes and her family, unofficially known as "the Hollji." Despite the family's concern for me being, well, we'll say overexposed to the Holljes way, I really did have a relaxing time and enjoyed the family quite a bit. As Sarah says, it's nice to be friends with someone with whom you can just sit around in silence reading books or go on up to the loft and take a two-hour nap or feel comfortable saying just about anything because you both agree that honesty is the best policy--sometimes no matter how blunt it may be. What Sarah also knows about me is how entertained I am by people in general, meaning I can enjoy me a slab of fine family drama (unless the family is on a reality TV show making a living off their crazies ((unless I'm in 8th grade again watching The Osbournes)).
In an effort to reacquaint myself with my mathematical mind before classes start up in exactly one week, I propose that one of the greatest common factors among families is that they've all got issues. This stems from the fact that each individual person has issues (see original sin). Somehow all of this drivel is supposed to segue into why I paint people, but since I'm not majoring in something that requires fine technique in composition, I'll spare myself the hassle of actually writing well.
Instead I'll go ahead and tell you that I've painted six people now, one of which I painted over since I scratched the idea, and I've got a seventh person in the works. I've also painted a few pieces without people, but I found a lot less fulfillment out of completing those pieces. Partially the fact of that matter is that people are challenging. If the face doesn't look like the actual person, then all my work has gone to painting a foreign personality. It's still a face, but it's not the face I've inspected for the finest detail in nostril exposure. It's also not the face of which I've mentally invaded the lovely surface in order to see the actual person for who she is besides an attractive combination of hues. Painting is a peacefully contemplative art. With each delicate brushstroke of the pupil, I pray for my subject to see the beauty in her life. As I try (and fail) to capture the highlight in each strand of hair, I think about how well God knows and loves this person, as He's got "even the very hairs of [her head] numbered." The continuation of this process until the face becomes a completed two-dimensional form essentially forces me into submission to Jesus' second greatest commandment, to love my neighbor as myself. Exploring and appreciating the qualities of my neighbor is a cause for exploring and appreciating the qualities of our God. If I derive so much joy out of recreating this person's face, I can only imagine the joy of the Lord as He looks at His original creation.
With a simple paintbrush in hand, I am humbled.
In an effort to reacquaint myself with my mathematical mind before classes start up in exactly one week, I propose that one of the greatest common factors among families is that they've all got issues. This stems from the fact that each individual person has issues (see original sin). Somehow all of this drivel is supposed to segue into why I paint people, but since I'm not majoring in something that requires fine technique in composition, I'll spare myself the hassle of actually writing well.
Instead I'll go ahead and tell you that I've painted six people now, one of which I painted over since I scratched the idea, and I've got a seventh person in the works. I've also painted a few pieces without people, but I found a lot less fulfillment out of completing those pieces. Partially the fact of that matter is that people are challenging. If the face doesn't look like the actual person, then all my work has gone to painting a foreign personality. It's still a face, but it's not the face I've inspected for the finest detail in nostril exposure. It's also not the face of which I've mentally invaded the lovely surface in order to see the actual person for who she is besides an attractive combination of hues. Painting is a peacefully contemplative art. With each delicate brushstroke of the pupil, I pray for my subject to see the beauty in her life. As I try (and fail) to capture the highlight in each strand of hair, I think about how well God knows and loves this person, as He's got "even the very hairs of [her head] numbered." The continuation of this process until the face becomes a completed two-dimensional form essentially forces me into submission to Jesus' second greatest commandment, to love my neighbor as myself. Exploring and appreciating the qualities of my neighbor is a cause for exploring and appreciating the qualities of our God. If I derive so much joy out of recreating this person's face, I can only imagine the joy of the Lord as He looks at His original creation.
With a simple paintbrush in hand, I am humbled.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Family
This evening, my family celebrated my grandmother's 70th birthday at her house in Gloucester. Grandma invites all four of her daughters' families over for lunch at least one Sunday a month, but this specific celebration brought on a lot more to celebrate than just my grandma (and I tell you--that woman is worth a huge celebration). Deb, Jared, and Leo have been in town and were able to stay through tonight in order to make it to this dinner. On top of that, my cousin Morgan was in attendance, fresh off another stint of trips, this time to Haiti, New York, and Boston.
Even though I really was dead tired most of the time I was there, I made the effort to soak in the uncommon atmosphere. My two great-grandparents we dread the day of losing. My sister's family with no real guarantee of finally coming back home to Virginia from their current residence in Tennessee any time soon. My aunt who is so thrilled by my discovered painting abilities that she starts on a list of subjects she knows would sell in her consignment store if I painted them. My sister Becca. Morgan with her triumphant weight loss and adventurous spirit.
And then my mom telling the story of when she decided she wanted to be a foreign missionary back in college. Her daddy asked her one day when they were working outside, "How do you think you can serve in another country if you're not serving at home?" My mom took him up on that challenge and spent the next summer in Vermont doing some type of mission work. It turned out to be the most traumatizing experience of my mother's life, and she hated every moment of it. Once my grandmother spoke to my crying mother on the phone, she began writing her letters every single day just to give her something to look forward to everyday. My mom told that story with gratefulness in her voice. Then Morgan, choking back tears, thanked grandma for coming over to her house the very day Morgan's dad died of a heart attack to play Monopoly with her when she was 11.
And then I noticed a huge thing. Grandma makes us all feel like the favorite. All four daughters and all thirteen of their kids and then all six of the grandchildrens' kids. She makes getting together as a family something to celebrate every single time by showing us the love she's so quick to say can only come from her own Father.
Even though I really was dead tired most of the time I was there, I made the effort to soak in the uncommon atmosphere. My two great-grandparents we dread the day of losing. My sister's family with no real guarantee of finally coming back home to Virginia from their current residence in Tennessee any time soon. My aunt who is so thrilled by my discovered painting abilities that she starts on a list of subjects she knows would sell in her consignment store if I painted them. My sister Becca. Morgan with her triumphant weight loss and adventurous spirit.
And then my mom telling the story of when she decided she wanted to be a foreign missionary back in college. Her daddy asked her one day when they were working outside, "How do you think you can serve in another country if you're not serving at home?" My mom took him up on that challenge and spent the next summer in Vermont doing some type of mission work. It turned out to be the most traumatizing experience of my mother's life, and she hated every moment of it. Once my grandmother spoke to my crying mother on the phone, she began writing her letters every single day just to give her something to look forward to everyday. My mom told that story with gratefulness in her voice. Then Morgan, choking back tears, thanked grandma for coming over to her house the very day Morgan's dad died of a heart attack to play Monopoly with her when she was 11.
And then I noticed a huge thing. Grandma makes us all feel like the favorite. All four daughters and all thirteen of their kids and then all six of the grandchildrens' kids. She makes getting together as a family something to celebrate every single time by showing us the love she's so quick to say can only come from her own Father.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Honesty
This might be an awkward blog post, because I want to talk about the honesty involved in composing a blog post. I often read blogs of ones who really truly want to dig down to the most honest pits of their souls and put all that stuff into the most honest words possible in a blog post. I love those posts. I want to write those posts, but that is hard.
Recently, I read a post on Tim's blog and made a comment about how much I appreciate his honesty. Here's part of what he said in response to my comment: "I struggle with being honest on the blog: I want to be honest, because I believe that's the best way to live, but I am ever afraid that people will think poorly of me if I am truly honest. Fact is, I am not completely honest on the blog. Sometimes people say that, you know, there's a line of what is appropriate to be honest about, but I don't know why or where."
Sadie and I went to see The Invention of Lying at the beginning of last school year, and in case you don't know the premise, it's a movie about a society that only speaks truths. Then, Ricky Gervais "invents" lying when he goes to the bank and tells the teller he has more money in his bank account than he actually has so that he can pay his rent. The weird thing about this film, though, is that truth never appears offensive. The reason we lie is because we don't want to offend. We lie to avoid negative consequences, but those negative consequences don't appear to exist in this world--at least not in terms of hurt feelings. Somehow pride and ego must be diluted when the concept of lying is removed from the picture.
Which may or may not be far from the truth, but that seems an impossible experiment to conduct in our lying reality. As far as blogging goes, though, I don't know that I'd say not being completely honest is a blatant lie, but it can be misleading. Sometimes I get in the mood to blog, and I'll write a post that really does not quite encompass the reality of a situation or of my own thoughts. With that, I do echo Tim's feelings on honesty in that such vulnerability is a scary thing when it can lead to others thinking less of me. Often times the image I put off to others becomes a much bigger concern to me than the image I put off to God. God knows those depths of my soul that even I don't know. I can't lie or hide anything from Him, and the fact that God still loves me more than anyone else can, despite that, is extremely humbling when I bother to appreciate it.
Unfortunately, I can morph other people's opinions of me by controlling the image I put off. I can write about how great it is that I'm babysitting Kasper, but then in reality, I've been fed up with him for the past week. I got home really late last night from a concert, and in my sleep-deprived state this morning, I was straight up grumpy and lost my filter. Kasper's parents only let him watch two hours of TV when they're working, but he likes to remind me that he watches endless amounts of TV when his parents get home. Sometimes when he's done with his two hours and decides to bug me, I become very annoyed by this rule. Today he told me he had half an hour left and I told him I really did not care how much TV he watched. He reminded me of the rule, and then, yes, I exposed his parents' rule being void when they got home and how it really makes little difference that he's not watching as much TV with me when he's vegged out in front of a TV all evening. I know, it was a terrible terrible thing to say, and I have apologized to his mother for it already after he called her and told her what I said. He's bound to be as sick of me as I am of him, and it's rather unfortunate that we're leaving off on this note. But, that is the reality of the situation. As much as I'd like to look like a good person, I am not, and God is even gracious enough to humble me today as my pride has definitely been flaring up to a maximal level over the past few days.
We all are sinful, and that word "sinful" encompasses a lot of muck we sure do want to throw blinders over. I think sometimes these blinders are even used to delude ourselves, and that's when Satan can drag us further into the muck of that specific sin. Honesty is hard enough to embrace within myself, and it's that much harder to throw down in a blog post. I guess that's why we keep pointing at God and the fact that He is Honesty, and in maintaining that perspective, he will point right back at us and say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."
Recently, I read a post on Tim's blog and made a comment about how much I appreciate his honesty. Here's part of what he said in response to my comment: "I struggle with being honest on the blog: I want to be honest, because I believe that's the best way to live, but I am ever afraid that people will think poorly of me if I am truly honest. Fact is, I am not completely honest on the blog. Sometimes people say that, you know, there's a line of what is appropriate to be honest about, but I don't know why or where."
Sadie and I went to see The Invention of Lying at the beginning of last school year, and in case you don't know the premise, it's a movie about a society that only speaks truths. Then, Ricky Gervais "invents" lying when he goes to the bank and tells the teller he has more money in his bank account than he actually has so that he can pay his rent. The weird thing about this film, though, is that truth never appears offensive. The reason we lie is because we don't want to offend. We lie to avoid negative consequences, but those negative consequences don't appear to exist in this world--at least not in terms of hurt feelings. Somehow pride and ego must be diluted when the concept of lying is removed from the picture.
Which may or may not be far from the truth, but that seems an impossible experiment to conduct in our lying reality. As far as blogging goes, though, I don't know that I'd say not being completely honest is a blatant lie, but it can be misleading. Sometimes I get in the mood to blog, and I'll write a post that really does not quite encompass the reality of a situation or of my own thoughts. With that, I do echo Tim's feelings on honesty in that such vulnerability is a scary thing when it can lead to others thinking less of me. Often times the image I put off to others becomes a much bigger concern to me than the image I put off to God. God knows those depths of my soul that even I don't know. I can't lie or hide anything from Him, and the fact that God still loves me more than anyone else can, despite that, is extremely humbling when I bother to appreciate it.
Unfortunately, I can morph other people's opinions of me by controlling the image I put off. I can write about how great it is that I'm babysitting Kasper, but then in reality, I've been fed up with him for the past week. I got home really late last night from a concert, and in my sleep-deprived state this morning, I was straight up grumpy and lost my filter. Kasper's parents only let him watch two hours of TV when they're working, but he likes to remind me that he watches endless amounts of TV when his parents get home. Sometimes when he's done with his two hours and decides to bug me, I become very annoyed by this rule. Today he told me he had half an hour left and I told him I really did not care how much TV he watched. He reminded me of the rule, and then, yes, I exposed his parents' rule being void when they got home and how it really makes little difference that he's not watching as much TV with me when he's vegged out in front of a TV all evening. I know, it was a terrible terrible thing to say, and I have apologized to his mother for it already after he called her and told her what I said. He's bound to be as sick of me as I am of him, and it's rather unfortunate that we're leaving off on this note. But, that is the reality of the situation. As much as I'd like to look like a good person, I am not, and God is even gracious enough to humble me today as my pride has definitely been flaring up to a maximal level over the past few days.
We all are sinful, and that word "sinful" encompasses a lot of muck we sure do want to throw blinders over. I think sometimes these blinders are even used to delude ourselves, and that's when Satan can drag us further into the muck of that specific sin. Honesty is hard enough to embrace within myself, and it's that much harder to throw down in a blog post. I guess that's why we keep pointing at God and the fact that He is Honesty, and in maintaining that perspective, he will point right back at us and say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
22
Mathematically, 22 is a semiprime. As my actual age, it already has a much more exciting description. It gave me the first birthday I can recall really spending any time with Jesus, and I don't mean just at church (since my birthday was on a Sunday). It was raw, and it was real. I felt invited, and I felt loved.
I wrote some posts at the beginning of the summer about how much I didn't want another doubtful summer to bring another faithless and fruitless fall. By the sheer grace of God, I am pretty sure this has been avoided (so far). When Claire and I were visiting with Abby Bates in DC a few weeks ago, she talked about how God is the one who grants anyone (including nonbelievers) the ambition to really do anything and chase big dreams. I thought of how true that has been in my own life. If anything, I see God giving me the ambition for ambition. There's less, "Well, I just don't know what God wants me to do," and more, "I desire to treat each hour's task as a task from God." I finally really truly want to see God change hearts on my campus enough that I will make sure there are many opportunities for that to happen.
Last summer, I was fretting over what to do with my life and all the difficult math classes I had to take. While I still do fret over these things sometimes, I am more concerned with God being glorified not only by *my* activities this year at school but also by everyone else's, including the faces I simply walk past everyday on my way to Real Analysis. What's cool is that I know I'm not alone, and I can't wait to see a united God-given passion for Christ penetrate our little block we call UMW.
He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?
-Micah 6:8
I wrote some posts at the beginning of the summer about how much I didn't want another doubtful summer to bring another faithless and fruitless fall. By the sheer grace of God, I am pretty sure this has been avoided (so far). When Claire and I were visiting with Abby Bates in DC a few weeks ago, she talked about how God is the one who grants anyone (including nonbelievers) the ambition to really do anything and chase big dreams. I thought of how true that has been in my own life. If anything, I see God giving me the ambition for ambition. There's less, "Well, I just don't know what God wants me to do," and more, "I desire to treat each hour's task as a task from God." I finally really truly want to see God change hearts on my campus enough that I will make sure there are many opportunities for that to happen.
Last summer, I was fretting over what to do with my life and all the difficult math classes I had to take. While I still do fret over these things sometimes, I am more concerned with God being glorified not only by *my* activities this year at school but also by everyone else's, including the faces I simply walk past everyday on my way to Real Analysis. What's cool is that I know I'm not alone, and I can't wait to see a united God-given passion for Christ penetrate our little block we call UMW.
He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?
-Micah 6:8
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Solomon and Jesus in cahoots
Since I started teaching the youth Sunday school class at the beginning of this month, I've basically been conducting my own personal experiment (and God's more controlled "experiment") of talking to a few 14 to 17-year-olds about the meaning of life and purpose as exposed by Solomon in the book of Ecclesiastes. I was going to go into this class with a more comfortable and common study, maybe looking more specifically at one of the gospels or Paul's letters or digging into some of Isaiah's prophesies. But then I know how heavily God has laid purpose and meaning on my heart and mind that I figured it was more than appropriate territory to explore with some teens who are in a phase I only so recently left behind.
I've discovered that the hardest part about tackling Ecclesiastes not only in personal study but especially in group study is understanding why Solomon speaks throughout most of the book from a secularist point-of-view. There is so much explicit doom and gloom, you almost miss those glimmers of "there is a time for everything," "eat, drink, and be merry," and "fear God and keep His commandments." So far we've looked at the first chapter as well as the last chapter partially because I only have a few weeks with them and also because I wanted to get straight to the hopeful conclusions of Solomon's wise discoveries. All of the "this is meaningless" and "that is vanity" business in the middle has been mentioned but for the most part left unexplored.
But this coming Sunday we're gonna get into it. At least, we're gonna get into chapter two and talk about the vanity of self-indulgence, which underlies most strictly secular pursuits.
The night of my 22nd birthday (July 18th), I started a house-sitting job. I arrived, dropped my stuff on the floor of the living room, pulled out my Bible, and read straight through Mark and about six chapters into Luke. And as God does, he showed me many sides of Himself that I truly have never even seen before. With the words of Ecclesiastes on my mind a lot lately, I started seeing how much more radical and uncomfortable Jesus' words are than anything Solomon ever said. I also saw how much Jesus basically reiterated the points Solomon had made two hundred years before.
The secularist POV is a straight-up-in-your-face illustration of exactly what Jesus later warns us against.
Just look at the parable Jesus told about "the rich fool":
Someone in the crowd said to him, "Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me."
14Jesus replied, "Man, who appointed me a judge or an arbiter between you?" 15Then he said to them, "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions."
16And he told them this parable: "The ground of a certain rich man produced a good crop. 17He thought to himself, 'What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops.'
18"Then he said, 'This is what I'll do. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 19And I'll say to myself, "You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry." '
20"But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?'
21"This is how it will be with anyone who stores up things for himself but is not rich toward God."
The nice thing is that Jesus throws that verse 21 bit in there, whereas Solomon generally leaves that out until around the end of his entire book. But really, this one parable gives a great summary of most of the things Solomon gets into. You may also recall that story about the guy who says he's kept up with all of God's commands, but when Jesus says that's terrific but go on and sell everything you have, the guy is filled with sorrow.
Having stuff isn't the problem. It's "the love of [having stuff]" that brings problems. Mostly, it's loving having stuff more for ourselves rather than having stuff for God. And by stuff, I am referring to everything Solomon goes into, which is beyond just material. It's sensual, spiritual, and all dimensions of "-ual." I mean, Solomon took every path toward illusions of happiness that one could even imagine.
And so the having stuff and the doing stuff for God is such obscure territory itself that we really can't just get it right, and it's when we run into those walls that we lift up our hands and let God's sufficient grace overwhelm our helpless situation once again. God's love and mercy cleanses all dimensions of "-ual," and that's the hope that arises from this anomaly we call Ecclesiastes. There's more hope in this book than most people can see, but if you just go listen to Jesus for a bit, maybe He can convince you of this truth.
I've discovered that the hardest part about tackling Ecclesiastes not only in personal study but especially in group study is understanding why Solomon speaks throughout most of the book from a secularist point-of-view. There is so much explicit doom and gloom, you almost miss those glimmers of "there is a time for everything," "eat, drink, and be merry," and "fear God and keep His commandments." So far we've looked at the first chapter as well as the last chapter partially because I only have a few weeks with them and also because I wanted to get straight to the hopeful conclusions of Solomon's wise discoveries. All of the "this is meaningless" and "that is vanity" business in the middle has been mentioned but for the most part left unexplored.
But this coming Sunday we're gonna get into it. At least, we're gonna get into chapter two and talk about the vanity of self-indulgence, which underlies most strictly secular pursuits.
The night of my 22nd birthday (July 18th), I started a house-sitting job. I arrived, dropped my stuff on the floor of the living room, pulled out my Bible, and read straight through Mark and about six chapters into Luke. And as God does, he showed me many sides of Himself that I truly have never even seen before. With the words of Ecclesiastes on my mind a lot lately, I started seeing how much more radical and uncomfortable Jesus' words are than anything Solomon ever said. I also saw how much Jesus basically reiterated the points Solomon had made two hundred years before.
The secularist POV is a straight-up-in-your-face illustration of exactly what Jesus later warns us against.
Just look at the parable Jesus told about "the rich fool":
Someone in the crowd said to him, "Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me."
14Jesus replied, "Man, who appointed me a judge or an arbiter between you?" 15Then he said to them, "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions."
16And he told them this parable: "The ground of a certain rich man produced a good crop. 17He thought to himself, 'What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops.'
18"Then he said, 'This is what I'll do. I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. 19And I'll say to myself, "You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry." '
20"But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?'
21"This is how it will be with anyone who stores up things for himself but is not rich toward God."
The nice thing is that Jesus throws that verse 21 bit in there, whereas Solomon generally leaves that out until around the end of his entire book. But really, this one parable gives a great summary of most of the things Solomon gets into. You may also recall that story about the guy who says he's kept up with all of God's commands, but when Jesus says that's terrific but go on and sell everything you have, the guy is filled with sorrow.
Having stuff isn't the problem. It's "the love of [having stuff]" that brings problems. Mostly, it's loving having stuff more for ourselves rather than having stuff for God. And by stuff, I am referring to everything Solomon goes into, which is beyond just material. It's sensual, spiritual, and all dimensions of "-ual." I mean, Solomon took every path toward illusions of happiness that one could even imagine.
And so the having stuff and the doing stuff for God is such obscure territory itself that we really can't just get it right, and it's when we run into those walls that we lift up our hands and let God's sufficient grace overwhelm our helpless situation once again. God's love and mercy cleanses all dimensions of "-ual," and that's the hope that arises from this anomaly we call Ecclesiastes. There's more hope in this book than most people can see, but if you just go listen to Jesus for a bit, maybe He can convince you of this truth.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Evan Moses Haufler
Please read Evan's incredible journey home. This family is related to one of our beloved families at my church, and they've also attended a few times recently. They went to the country Georgia to pick up their son Evan, who they've been in the process of adopting for two years. Evan's journey landed him in a far greater home than any of us could have anticipated and listening to Tim's link to "Come to Jesus" refocuses my heart, mind, and soul on where I know my own journey leads.
And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!
And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Death and Desire
"My question--that which at the age of fifty brought me to the verge of suicide--was the simplest of questions, lying in the soul of every man... a question without an answer to which one cannot live. It was: 'What will come of what I am doing today or tomorrow? What will come of my whole life? Why should I live, why wish for anything, or do anything?' It can also be expressed thus: Is there any meaning in my life that the inevitable death awaiting me does not destroy?"
-Leo Tolstoy, A Confession
This is what fascinates me to no end. I just finished The Reason For God, and it may be one of the best books I've ever read. I've been through Ecclesiastes 1 with the youth at church so far, and though it is an enormously depressing introduction basically making the same point as Tolstoy here, I recall discussing the passing joy of something new with the kids. I asked them why everything new becomes boring and what makes them so desire the next big thing when they know that it, too, will fade. Answers were uncertain, of course.
My deep desire for purpose has not waned since it first was sparked however many years ago, and I don't suspect it ever will. The way it seems to me, my desire for a general purpose is becoming a more direct desire for the glorification of God--that is, my desire is becoming less about my purpose and more about God's purpose. That sort of desire cannot possibly wane as long as it is being fed by the words of God himself.
-Leo Tolstoy, A Confession
This is what fascinates me to no end. I just finished The Reason For God, and it may be one of the best books I've ever read. I've been through Ecclesiastes 1 with the youth at church so far, and though it is an enormously depressing introduction basically making the same point as Tolstoy here, I recall discussing the passing joy of something new with the kids. I asked them why everything new becomes boring and what makes them so desire the next big thing when they know that it, too, will fade. Answers were uncertain, of course.
My deep desire for purpose has not waned since it first was sparked however many years ago, and I don't suspect it ever will. The way it seems to me, my desire for a general purpose is becoming a more direct desire for the glorification of God--that is, my desire is becoming less about my purpose and more about God's purpose. That sort of desire cannot possibly wane as long as it is being fed by the words of God himself.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
ShoutLaughLove For Reals
Looks like it's ShoutLaughLove day! I just wanna give a quick shoutout to Suzannah to say thanks for starting this up. I admire you in all your roles that I've experienced whether in person or through the web.
As for shouting, laughing, and loving, today was full of all that for sure. In a past entry, I mentioned this babysitting job I have for the entire month of July. The Alberts are members of my church, and I've gotten to know the mother of the clan pretty well in the women's Sunday school class. Back in the days I was gimping around church in my massive knee brace, she approached me about watching her almost 9-year-old son Kasper for the month of July while her daughter is in Texas visiting her dad. I agreed to do the job immediately, realizing it'd be a pretty big time commitment with little payoff--not to mention Kasper has a lot of energy. Today was our first ten-hour day together, and it really was a great day. I am grateful to have a sweet boy to get to know and love and pray for this month. I am glad his mother could find someone to watch him so that he didn't have to go to local childcare facilities that really don't treat the kids very well.
Before I left this evening, he wanted me to take a picture of him with my phone, so now, fortunately, you get to enjoy his face. You're welcome.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Still Trying To Figure It Out
According to Wikipedia, "spirituality can refer to an ultimate or immaterial reality; an inner path enabling a person to discover the essence of their being; or the 'deepest values and meanings by which people live.'"
Christian spirituality makes this definition a bit more specific and a bit more complicated. When I think of a spiritual Christian, I think of one who speaks her thoughts as a conversation with God. This person makes her decisions because "God revealed it" to her. This person says, "Praise the Lord!" when you tell her of your good fortunes, and "I will be praying for you," when you tell her of your misfortunes. This is all what pops in my head when I contemplate Christian spirituality, and this is where there is some sort of exclusivity in what I perceive to be a more devout Christianity. My thoughts don't usually follow as a conversation with God, and I'm not always so quick to see what God is revealing to me. Saying "praise the Lord!" and "I will be praying for you," would both be awkward statements coming out of my mouth if they did come with much frequency.
That's the parallel to my thoughts and questions from a year ago. Ever since I went through such a serious season of doubt, I've wondered what all of it was for. I haven't really been able to figure out how my faith has been strengthened as a consequence of that time. Either that or my faith has yet to be strengthened as a consequence of that time. That would be a scarier realization for sure.
My aforementioned perceptions of Christian spirituality are off. A holy exterior can't be trusted as a definition for the heart of a believer. When I read Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz my freshman year, it was refreshing because I had a guy telling me he would go months without praying or reading his Bible and he knew lots of Christians who appeared to do a lot of things fundamentally wrong within the Christian sphere. I was reading about a lot of people I could see myself in as opposed to a book by someone like James White who makes me feel like I can never even hope to achieve the spirituality he possesses. I've been encouraged by failures and discouraged by the seeming Christian elite.
But then I step back and reassess the sources that feed my perceptions. Those sources are all of the world. Even the Christians (including myself) in this world can confuse this concept of faith for me, but they're not the source of truth.
Jesus is the Savior of the poor. I don't suppose He suspects I will be encouraged by Christian elitists. "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them." This isn't to say those who seem to be more spiritually mature are wrong (clearly), but making comparisons doesn't do much good for a purpose toward loving and enjoying God.
I'm learning how to measure my faith using Scripture alone. I'm not that woman singing daily praise to the Lord like the Psalms command repeatedly, but I am still a woman who knows that the Lord is the one to be praised. I want to be cautious and sure that my praises come from faith and not from blindly following commands. I don't know if that's wrong, but it's real for me. Perhaps I'm clinging to cynicism, but then I surely do pray that God loosens my grasp rather than some more misdirected notions of truth.
Christian spirituality makes this definition a bit more specific and a bit more complicated. When I think of a spiritual Christian, I think of one who speaks her thoughts as a conversation with God. This person makes her decisions because "God revealed it" to her. This person says, "Praise the Lord!" when you tell her of your good fortunes, and "I will be praying for you," when you tell her of your misfortunes. This is all what pops in my head when I contemplate Christian spirituality, and this is where there is some sort of exclusivity in what I perceive to be a more devout Christianity. My thoughts don't usually follow as a conversation with God, and I'm not always so quick to see what God is revealing to me. Saying "praise the Lord!" and "I will be praying for you," would both be awkward statements coming out of my mouth if they did come with much frequency.
That's the parallel to my thoughts and questions from a year ago. Ever since I went through such a serious season of doubt, I've wondered what all of it was for. I haven't really been able to figure out how my faith has been strengthened as a consequence of that time. Either that or my faith has yet to be strengthened as a consequence of that time. That would be a scarier realization for sure.
My aforementioned perceptions of Christian spirituality are off. A holy exterior can't be trusted as a definition for the heart of a believer. When I read Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz my freshman year, it was refreshing because I had a guy telling me he would go months without praying or reading his Bible and he knew lots of Christians who appeared to do a lot of things fundamentally wrong within the Christian sphere. I was reading about a lot of people I could see myself in as opposed to a book by someone like James White who makes me feel like I can never even hope to achieve the spirituality he possesses. I've been encouraged by failures and discouraged by the seeming Christian elite.
But then I step back and reassess the sources that feed my perceptions. Those sources are all of the world. Even the Christians (including myself) in this world can confuse this concept of faith for me, but they're not the source of truth.
Jesus is the Savior of the poor. I don't suppose He suspects I will be encouraged by Christian elitists. "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them." This isn't to say those who seem to be more spiritually mature are wrong (clearly), but making comparisons doesn't do much good for a purpose toward loving and enjoying God.
I'm learning how to measure my faith using Scripture alone. I'm not that woman singing daily praise to the Lord like the Psalms command repeatedly, but I am still a woman who knows that the Lord is the one to be praised. I want to be cautious and sure that my praises come from faith and not from blindly following commands. I don't know if that's wrong, but it's real for me. Perhaps I'm clinging to cynicism, but then I surely do pray that God loosens my grasp rather than some more misdirected notions of truth.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
July, July
Um wow. It is July. I've always thought of July as the most hardcore summer-y of summer months. Perhaps because this seems to be the month most people are vacationing? Or because the vegetables are coming in much abundance at last? July is most hardcore for me this summer simply because everyone and his mother are hitting me up for garden jobs. I'm starting to think I'll have to say no to someone simply because I won't have the time to dedicate to pulling their weeds that they probably want me to have. I guess this is how people start businesses, but I was never in this for the business. I was just gonna come home, have surgery, and recover. There was no plan beyond that. But now I am seeing God decided He'd plan this all out for me, so I'm just gonna run with it and not fret about my (many) babysitting hours overlapping multiple gardening jobs.
In other news, I recently sat in a Barnes & Noble reading The Reason For God by Timothy Keller. About a year ago, I started slipping into some serious doubt about this very topic. I tend to get caught up in truth, logic, reason, rationale, etc., but it seems getting too caught up in all this leaves my faith in ragged form. That was a rough season of life, but I can see how God is perfecting me through it. With all the wisdom I lack and as cold as my heart can be, God gave me a season to point to and say, "Remember that? Remember how unwise and confused you were then? Above all, remember what that was like without Me?" Oh, I remember, and I hope to never be so stupid as to pretend it never happened. Loving God is not a matter for skeptics. Not all forms of doubt are really okay for freely infiltrating a believer's mind. This whole following Christ business is so dang difficult. And we're all experiencing different difficulties in our varied walks with Christ. I want to know your difficulties just like I know my own. I want to know how God has shown provision in your life as well as I know He has in mine. God has so much to show us through our relationships with one another, and that makes deep family bonds and friendships that much sweeter.
Starting this coming Sunday at church, I want to take this perspective to the youth Sunday school class when I talk to those kids about who Christ is and why He even matters. As simple a lesson that should be, it is so dang difficult.
In other news, I recently sat in a Barnes & Noble reading The Reason For God by Timothy Keller. About a year ago, I started slipping into some serious doubt about this very topic. I tend to get caught up in truth, logic, reason, rationale, etc., but it seems getting too caught up in all this leaves my faith in ragged form. That was a rough season of life, but I can see how God is perfecting me through it. With all the wisdom I lack and as cold as my heart can be, God gave me a season to point to and say, "Remember that? Remember how unwise and confused you were then? Above all, remember what that was like without Me?" Oh, I remember, and I hope to never be so stupid as to pretend it never happened. Loving God is not a matter for skeptics. Not all forms of doubt are really okay for freely infiltrating a believer's mind. This whole following Christ business is so dang difficult. And we're all experiencing different difficulties in our varied walks with Christ. I want to know your difficulties just like I know my own. I want to know how God has shown provision in your life as well as I know He has in mine. God has so much to show us through our relationships with one another, and that makes deep family bonds and friendships that much sweeter.
Starting this coming Sunday at church, I want to take this perspective to the youth Sunday school class when I talk to those kids about who Christ is and why He even matters. As simple a lesson that should be, it is so dang difficult.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
WWOOF
So I recently heard about the existence of WWOOF. If you don't feel like clicking that link, it's World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms and it's awesome (theoretically). This past Saturday morning before I left Molly's house, she brought up WWOOF in conversation, recounting her friend's awesome experience with it. My verbal reaction to the topic was, "I WANT TO DO THAT."
My mom likes to suggest that I become a farmer on occasion, and I've been off and on working with plants since the summer after my sophomore year of high school. I know there's a lot more to actual farming than what I'm used to doing, but oh how I long to do all that stuff, too. It's easy to romanticize farming. Molly was pretty jazzed about doing WWOOF herself until her mom said, "Molly, you hate soil." The routine of daily farm tasks can become a dread, and unfruitful seasons can be terribly discouraging and economically damaging. Nonetheless, I've kind of put WWOOF into next summer's slot as an if-I-don't-have-a-real-job-yet placeholder. The coolest thing about WWOOF is that it's worldwide. That means I can go farm in Africa or South America or the UK or even just about anywhere in the US. But I'd ideally like to go up to Canada. I have an unexplainable attraction to Canada, and this seems the perfect opportunity to finally get myself up there. Lord willing, I will go.
My mom likes to suggest that I become a farmer on occasion, and I've been off and on working with plants since the summer after my sophomore year of high school. I know there's a lot more to actual farming than what I'm used to doing, but oh how I long to do all that stuff, too. It's easy to romanticize farming. Molly was pretty jazzed about doing WWOOF herself until her mom said, "Molly, you hate soil." The routine of daily farm tasks can become a dread, and unfruitful seasons can be terribly discouraging and economically damaging. Nonetheless, I've kind of put WWOOF into next summer's slot as an if-I-don't-have-a-real-job-yet placeholder. The coolest thing about WWOOF is that it's worldwide. That means I can go farm in Africa or South America or the UK or even just about anywhere in the US. But I'd ideally like to go up to Canada. I have an unexplainable attraction to Canada, and this seems the perfect opportunity to finally get myself up there. Lord willing, I will go.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Gifts and Abilities
13 days ago, I discovered that I know how to paint. 12 days ago, I started wondering if anyone can pick up a paintbrush and produce a lifelike painting. The last and only art class I ever took was in 8th grade, the year I painted the now infamous shirtless dude in black pants that I found in a sports magazine. He didn't look like a real guy in my painting, though it is quite apparent that I focused a lot of attention on the detail of his abs. I also tried my hand at a painting of my two older sisters when they were about 4 and 5 years old. The little girls I painted look nothing like my sisters, and I remember my frustration over not getting it right. I really enjoyed painting people, but I wasn't good at it. I didn't have the eye and my patience wore pretty quickly. I didn't paint anymore after 8th grade, because I was pretty sure my attempts proved I didn't have the natural gift. I was never one for working hard to become good at something I wasn't naturally gifted at doing. I was naturally athletic, which carried me through about 9th grade, and then others worked harder and surpassed my abilities. That still didn't motivate me to become a better athlete than I naturally was. I got straight A's through high school and continued to do well in college until about halfway through my sophomore year when I didn't bother trying to make myself a better student upon realizing that my study skills were severely lacking. My life is a book about a kid with gifts she took advantage of and boosters she didn't build upon. "Free-spirited" as my grandmother may say I am, I don't take a challenge head-on.
As of right now, I have finished one painting, I'm doing touch-ups on another, and I have a third one in the beginning stages. Somewhere over the course of these past seven years since 8th grade, I somehow acquired a gift for painting that I definitely did not used to have. I don't know what sort of developmental pattern brought me here, but this has been the coolest and most fun discovery I've made about myself in a while.
I'm not sure why this gift has suddenly sprung to my attention, but it has got me thinking about how much I'm like that little greedy girl with a mound of gifts. Once she opens one, she tosses it to the side in anticipation of the next, and once the stack is gone, she's finished with every gift and waits for the thrill of the next great holiday that'll bring more gifts. So I figure being gifted by God in a certain area isn't something you're truly grateful for until you use that gift and develop it for the glory of God. At least that's true for me. It's something I mull over while I'm painting.
Here's a painting I did Friday morning before I headed up to Stafford for my friend Molly's birthday party. It's of her brother and her the day before she went off to study abroad in Hong Kong. :)
As of right now, I have finished one painting, I'm doing touch-ups on another, and I have a third one in the beginning stages. Somewhere over the course of these past seven years since 8th grade, I somehow acquired a gift for painting that I definitely did not used to have. I don't know what sort of developmental pattern brought me here, but this has been the coolest and most fun discovery I've made about myself in a while.
I'm not sure why this gift has suddenly sprung to my attention, but it has got me thinking about how much I'm like that little greedy girl with a mound of gifts. Once she opens one, she tosses it to the side in anticipation of the next, and once the stack is gone, she's finished with every gift and waits for the thrill of the next great holiday that'll bring more gifts. So I figure being gifted by God in a certain area isn't something you're truly grateful for until you use that gift and develop it for the glory of God. At least that's true for me. It's something I mull over while I'm painting.
Here's a painting I did Friday morning before I headed up to Stafford for my friend Molly's birthday party. It's of her brother and her the day before she went off to study abroad in Hong Kong. :)
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Two Gardens
Actually, there aren't two gardens. There are two over-sized houses that are partially bordered by Chesapeake Bay waters and are more eminently bordered by several different gardens each. Flower gardens, vegetable gardens, herb gardens. The owners of each of these homes have called for my services in maintaining their numerous gardens. I water, weed, trim, spray, dead-head. It is enjoyable work, and I've expressed how very appreciative I am of the work I have.
This morning it was already sweltering hot when I headed over to the Parkers' house at 8:00. By 10:00, I was dripping in sweat, but I had to drive across the peninsula to water some flowers over at the Dingledines' (yes, that is their last name) house. I watered everywhere, and in the process, I used five different hoses. I'd reached yet another flowering plant with its insignificant label poking up out of the soil in front of it when I decided to sit down for a breather. I thanked God for how beautiful a day it was despite the heat, and I thanked Him again for giving me a job to do. But then I looked down at the water pouring out of the hose and realized my thankfulness isn't reaching outside of just God and me. What I mean is that I sat there watching water, something you can get in a cup for free at most any restaurant, and flashed back to my freshman year of college when a man came to speak at The Gathering, trying to recruit college kids to head over to Africa and build wells. I remember really wanting to go, but of course the cost of the trip was like paying a semester's tuition at college. My point here could be that I take advantage of stuff a lot while others are without some of life's necessities, such as water. That's something we generally try to remind ourselves of as frequently as possible. This time, though, in context to the water--the very very abundant supply of water, I couldn't just sit there feeding an aesthetic plant without feeling a pang of guilt. I wanted to stick the hose into a huge container that I could ship straight across the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean to Africa.
Sometimes the advantage we take becomes a guilt we bear, and I'm praying about when it becomes a step we take. I don't want to pray prayers of thankfulness for *my* beautiful day. I want to pray prayers of thankfulness for yours, too.
This post is part of ShoutLaughLove. :)
This morning it was already sweltering hot when I headed over to the Parkers' house at 8:00. By 10:00, I was dripping in sweat, but I had to drive across the peninsula to water some flowers over at the Dingledines' (yes, that is their last name) house. I watered everywhere, and in the process, I used five different hoses. I'd reached yet another flowering plant with its insignificant label poking up out of the soil in front of it when I decided to sit down for a breather. I thanked God for how beautiful a day it was despite the heat, and I thanked Him again for giving me a job to do. But then I looked down at the water pouring out of the hose and realized my thankfulness isn't reaching outside of just God and me. What I mean is that I sat there watching water, something you can get in a cup for free at most any restaurant, and flashed back to my freshman year of college when a man came to speak at The Gathering, trying to recruit college kids to head over to Africa and build wells. I remember really wanting to go, but of course the cost of the trip was like paying a semester's tuition at college. My point here could be that I take advantage of stuff a lot while others are without some of life's necessities, such as water. That's something we generally try to remind ourselves of as frequently as possible. This time, though, in context to the water--the very very abundant supply of water, I couldn't just sit there feeding an aesthetic plant without feeling a pang of guilt. I wanted to stick the hose into a huge container that I could ship straight across the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean to Africa.
Sometimes the advantage we take becomes a guilt we bear, and I'm praying about when it becomes a step we take. I don't want to pray prayers of thankfulness for *my* beautiful day. I want to pray prayers of thankfulness for yours, too.
This post is part of ShoutLaughLove. :)
Monday, June 21, 2010
Things To Do And Such
As if it matters at this point, I had a discussion with my dad today about all the reasons I dislike the math major I am getting at my school. There are a lot of reasons, and they got brought up again when my mother entered the car. Her immediate response was, "You should still stay dedicated to it because God has you doing math for a reason." That is true, though I can't help but assume God has me doing math for the sake of getting a degree. It's so hard not to be pessimistic about these last four math classes I have to take in order to graduate in May. Sometimes I dread going back to school in August because of these classes. I also dread the college challenge of time management, especially now that I'm a senior and my time there is running out.
At the end of last semester, I felt convicted to do more ministerially next school year. With a strong desire to see others as well as myself feel purposeful, I applied to lead the freshmen Bible study at the Baptist Collegiate Ministries. God has inspired me with a lot of ideas for it, so I felt pretty secure in this calling from the moment I met up with Jc to tell her my general plan. That sense of security is even greater now that my pastor has asked me to teach the youth Sunday school class for a few weeks in July at my home church, and he was absolutely thrilled when I told him my game plan for freshman group and how much I'd like to use that for the youth as well. So now God is even being gracious enough to give me a better sense of how to approach this before I even approach the freshmen, and that is pretty awesome.
Also at the end of last semester, I got together with Mike and Missie Dudley, a couple who walked onto campus my freshman year with an awesome Bible study, and they even started a Sunday evening service right in the middle of campus my sophomore year. The service didn't happen anymore my junior year, much to many attendees' dismay. I thought it'd be pretty sweet if we could pull it back together and start up that service again next year. Mike and Missie seemed pretty jazzed at the idea, but over the course of this summer, I've been getting the sense that this probably won't happen. The Dudleys have their hands full with Mike's job as youth minister at their church, so they haven't responded to any messages I've left them about the service on campus. I realize I could go on without them and get all the contacts made myself, but that got me feeling pretty conflicted. See, I know that God wants me to suck it up and work my butt off in my math classes this coming year, and I also know that He is preparing me for freshman group. If I were to take on pulling together an entire service every Sunday evening on campus, I am quite sure I won't be either the math student or the Bible study leader God has clearly called me to be. Not to mention the (at least) 12 hours I'll be working on campus each week, as well as my tutoring job.
I don't want to back down from the daunting task of starting up a service on campus single-handedly simply out of fear or doubt that I can't do it. I want to back down because it's not where God wants my focus and my energies to be. In a lot of ways, this coming year already looks daunting to me. I don't know how to prepare myself for it mentally and emotionally, because I know how much college has screwed with me in both those areas already. I've just gotta trust that God has me there with a purpose and obey Him by doing these things I know I have to do. I pray to be a better friend, student, employee, roommate, daughter, sister, and whatever other roles I fill while I'm there. I mean, I've still got two months to live before this happens, but I want to make sure I'm seeking God before I'm seeking tomorrow, two months from now, or even a year from now.
At the end of last semester, I felt convicted to do more ministerially next school year. With a strong desire to see others as well as myself feel purposeful, I applied to lead the freshmen Bible study at the Baptist Collegiate Ministries. God has inspired me with a lot of ideas for it, so I felt pretty secure in this calling from the moment I met up with Jc to tell her my general plan. That sense of security is even greater now that my pastor has asked me to teach the youth Sunday school class for a few weeks in July at my home church, and he was absolutely thrilled when I told him my game plan for freshman group and how much I'd like to use that for the youth as well. So now God is even being gracious enough to give me a better sense of how to approach this before I even approach the freshmen, and that is pretty awesome.
Also at the end of last semester, I got together with Mike and Missie Dudley, a couple who walked onto campus my freshman year with an awesome Bible study, and they even started a Sunday evening service right in the middle of campus my sophomore year. The service didn't happen anymore my junior year, much to many attendees' dismay. I thought it'd be pretty sweet if we could pull it back together and start up that service again next year. Mike and Missie seemed pretty jazzed at the idea, but over the course of this summer, I've been getting the sense that this probably won't happen. The Dudleys have their hands full with Mike's job as youth minister at their church, so they haven't responded to any messages I've left them about the service on campus. I realize I could go on without them and get all the contacts made myself, but that got me feeling pretty conflicted. See, I know that God wants me to suck it up and work my butt off in my math classes this coming year, and I also know that He is preparing me for freshman group. If I were to take on pulling together an entire service every Sunday evening on campus, I am quite sure I won't be either the math student or the Bible study leader God has clearly called me to be. Not to mention the (at least) 12 hours I'll be working on campus each week, as well as my tutoring job.
I don't want to back down from the daunting task of starting up a service on campus single-handedly simply out of fear or doubt that I can't do it. I want to back down because it's not where God wants my focus and my energies to be. In a lot of ways, this coming year already looks daunting to me. I don't know how to prepare myself for it mentally and emotionally, because I know how much college has screwed with me in both those areas already. I've just gotta trust that God has me there with a purpose and obey Him by doing these things I know I have to do. I pray to be a better friend, student, employee, roommate, daughter, sister, and whatever other roles I fill while I'm there. I mean, I've still got two months to live before this happens, but I want to make sure I'm seeking God before I'm seeking tomorrow, two months from now, or even a year from now.
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