Basking in Being Small

Just got back from 5 days at New England regional staff conference and am attempting to process all my thoughts on vision, direction, mission, core conglomerates, definitions, theories, structures, remembering the names of the 10 gazillion people that I meet, and oh yeah, what figuring out what I'm supposed to do next... And, at times, it can feel a tad bit overwhelming. Okay, a lot overwhelming. There is so much that needs to be done and so little time to do it all. The perfectionist, achievementalist, realist in me is attempting to bungee jump off of the precipice that it feels like I am quickly approaching...

After regionals, some new friends and I went on a hike up Mount Monadnock, the most hiked mountain in the USA... this is one of the pictures that we took:



But as I looked at this gorgeous picture, what struck me most was how incredibly small we appeared (I'm the dot on the left). Next to the mountains, we were nothing. Scripture says similar things about the mountains' size compared to God:

The mountains quaked before the LORD, the One of Sinai, before the LORD, the God of Israel. (Judges 5:5)

Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. (Psalm 90:2)

And in that moment, I realized, it's ok to be small. It's ok to be weak. It's ok to be inept. Because God is a big God. And He is bigger, stronger, and much more able than anything else that I will ever face. And when he is with us, there is nothing to fear.

Lessons from the Road

Well, dear friends, I have arrived.

After 1000 miles in the car, 14 hours spent talking to myself (or other drivers), more of interstate 95 than I ever hoped to experience, and unthinkably many cups of coffee, I pulled into Boston, Massachusetts. I'm still working on learning how to spell Massachusetts without the aid of spell-check, so please forgive me if the full-drawn-out-version appears multiple times in this post. Regardless. Hi. Welcome to my life. Lessons from the road?

You are more like to get stared at if you wear sunglasses: people somehow think that if they cannot see your eyes, then you cannot see them, ergo it is perfectly a-okay to stare for as long as they like. This principle applies on-road and off.

In Connecticut (yay, spelled it correctly!), littering costs $219 dollars. Not $215, not $220: $219. Please don't ask me why, I'm not quite sure.

A seeing-eye parrot? Really now? I was hanging out in a rest stop on the border of Maryland and Delaware when a lady strolls out of the rest-stop with a full-sized parrot on her shoulder. And by full-sized, I mean at least 2 feet from tail to beak. And bright blue. And alive and talking. Like whoa. And since the rest stop had pretty strict animal policies, as in, limited to aid-animals, I can only deduce that this must have in fact been a seeing-eye parrot. Or perhaps a member of the missing-link family?

Never, ever, ever, and by that I mean never, drive into New York City. Especially not during rush hour. Especially not through the Lincoln Tunnel. Enough said. Three hours, three miles later, I realized my mistake.

The value of the turn signal. When one is driving in the south, often times the turn-signal is an unneeded-extra. There are turn lanes, guarded left-turn lights, and frankly, just not that many cars on the road. Here, however, where drivers multiply by the millions, aggressiveness quadruples, and driving prowess also increases, turn signals become quite dear friends. This, you will note, is also the difference between NYC drivers and Boston drivers: Boston drivers signal, and then cut you off; NYC drivers just cut you off.

But all that aside, the drive was fairly smooth, and I arrived in Boston in one piece!

M-A-S-S-A-C-H-U-S-E-T-T-S.

Next stop, Beantown.

Well, at long last the count-down draws to its conclusion… in less than 14 hours, I will get in my little green car (affectionately known as Oscar, although he is at all not grouchy) and begin my 14 hour trek northwards towards my new home, Boston, MA!

Many years ago, I used to sign all of my emails, “Pray boldly, because God delights to astonish us.” Friends, that was true then, and it is true now. All too often, I think we are tempted to pray human-sized prayers. And our God is so much bigger than we are… and his plans, his ways, and his understanding are so much bigger than ours. So, as I head to Boston, out of my comfort zone, into a “strange land,” that is what I would ask you to pray… pray boldly that God would astonish us with and delight to use us in his plan of redemption for his people, his cities, his campuses, his world.

... I'll see you on the other side. Next stop, Boston!

American Savior... er, President?

For those of you who might find yourselves in a comatose state, temporarily stationed on Antarctica, or on holiday 300 leagues below the sea, let me give you startling news: it is an American Presidential election year! For everyone else, well, you already knew that.

And the political science major in me rejoices greatly.

Simultaneously, I both love and abhor politics: I think it's fascinating how our political systems work. I think politicians are full of hot air (and I don't mean the helium kind). I think the idea of real change is beautiful. I think reform is far too often just a code word for "I want your vote" with no more meat than a skinny squirrel during a famine. I think Republicans and Democrats (or at least their policies) are far more similar than they admit. I love the ridiculousness of third-party candidates. But at the same time, I find them strangely refreshing because they run with true heart and real agenda for change, even if they have less hope of surviving than a NC snowball in July.

But the one thing that repeatedly gets me in American politics is that, despite official "separation of church and state," both sides arrogantly seem to think that they can claim that God uniquely stands on their side. Gott mit uns, no? And, simultaneously, the church, or many of its phalanges, are attempting to see which party will create the most "theocratic" governing body. In other words, which president will be the most Christian? Which will come the closest to establishing a godly government? And while these are noteworthy and noble goals, and a moral government is certainly to be desired, may I politely suggest that I think that the idea of a Christian government misses the point of government?

But, before I'm burned at the stake, defenestrated, or led to the gallows, allow me to explain.

Most of us think that the separation of church and state came from the first amendment, coined into a phrase in 1802 by Thomas Jefferson, established by the Supreme Court in subsequent cases. The truth, however, is that that separation came much earlier.

1 Samuel 8 begins with Samuel and his sons, the appointed religious leaders of the day. At that time, the nation of Israel had no separation between religious institution and governing political body. The priests, the judges, and the prophets ruled, with God as the recognized king. The rulers, as religious authorities, had political power, because they recognized God as their king (modern equivalent, president, cabinet, etc). But the people begin to get antsy, and they beseech Samuel to give them a king "because everyone else is doing it." (Don't believe me? Read the text.) God's response?

And the LORD told him: "Listen to all that the people are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king. As they have done from the day I brought them up out of Egypt until this day, forsaking me and serving other gods, so they are doing to you." (1 Samuel 8:7-8)

And from that day forward, we had separation (sometimes partial, but yes separation) between the religious authorities and the governing body. And all the bloody mess that followed.

Here's my point: Until God is recognized as King, we cannot have a unity between religion and politics. We can try (certainly the nation of Israel tried many times, Iran is trying now with Sharia law, England bloody well tried numerous times), but we will not succeed until the king or ruling authority is no longer man, but God. And, like it or not, we are not a nation which recognizes God as King, regardless of our origins. Religion, or godliness, cannot be just another weapon in the politician's arsenal.

Please don't mistake my meaning: I am all for having a president who believes in God, who loves Jesus, and who seeks to lead from Christian values. I think those are good things. But I do not expect the political headship of our nation to bring about the redemption of mankind. And, I think, when we attempt to reunite the church and state, we mistakenly assume that reinstating "God's men (or women)" into office will reinstate God as King.

Politics, or the existence of an elected or appointed ruler, is by definition to claim an authority other than God. Can we recognize politics for what it is, and elect good men or women into power... but recognize that true change, and the coming of the kingdom, will not come through the political office, but has to come through recognition of God as King, and Jesus as Lord and Savior?

Feel free to explain to me why I'm wrong. :-)

Cup o Joe

caffeinated morning crowd,
not so many morning people.
awkward, suave, cool;
old and young,
families and single folks,
rich and not so much.
all united to a common life-line.

by evening, divided they will fall,
split by preference and extravagance;
youth and marital status.
but in the mornings,
bleary-eyed and yawning,
all members stand untied
in their common need
for Joe
and a little cream and sugar.

Breath

Monday night, I took a belly-dancing, yoga, Pilate's class with some friends, further substantiating my already well-established belief that my stomach core muscles were not intended to oscillate, flex, or move whatsoever, except in the natural in-out of breathing for walking and running... ah, well. You will note, when the teachers were asking for volunteers to perform, they did not nominate me. My childhood dreams were crushed. Regardless...

As with most yoga and Pilate's classes, it was rather new age-y and somewhat positive-happy-whatevery-energyish... But, as our instructor cooled us down by teaching us good breathing patterns and inviting us to think of good and positive thoughts, she said something that I thought was interesting:

"Breathe deeply, because the spirit is in the breath."

Isn't that interesting, when God also says, "then the LORD God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature." (Genesis 2:7).

God, by breathing into us, set us apart from the animals. God, forming us out of soil, brought us into our humanity, by a simple breath not an seismographic kablooey.

Truth is all around us. We just have to have the eyes to see it with proper vision.

No one wants to be on the B-team

Eight days until I move northwards.

So, dear friends, I have a confession to make: I am arrogant.

While this might shock you (I know, I know, who would have guessed?), I assure you that it is true. I think I am right most of the time. If I appear humble, most likely it's because I feel that I am the most humble person around, and am quite proud of that fact (ah, the irony).

A few weeks ago, I sat down with a wise mentor and friend to talk through some of my feelings (ah, the dreaded word) with regard to the huge transitions coming up in my life. I was expressing fears, doubts, and frustrations about following a direction outside of my well-orchestrated plans. And my friend quite honestly said to me:

"You haven't been told 'no' to your big life-plans very often, have you?"
::ouch:: ::sigh, well, no, really just twice before this::
"And so, since your "A-plan" was rejected, now you feel like you're getting second best?"
::enter sinking feeling in pit of stomach as truth sinks in:: ::sigh:: ::yes::

and after a pause, "Do you really think you're getting God's second best? Are you that arrogant, to assume that your plans are better than God's?"
::why, yes, now that you mention it, I am that arrogant:: ::sigh::

And friends, here's the deal: at the root of my exaltation of my own wisdom, is the ugly doubt that God is not who He says He is (... good... good father... sovereign... loving... powerful... faithful...sufficient...). Ergo, I think I understand better than He does what I need/want.

It's truly humbling to realize that you're ridiculously self-centered and arrogant. But it has the good sting of truth settling in with cleansing power. Truth, spoken in love, is kind of like alcohol in a wound. It burns. It hurts. But it keeps infection and arrogance out. And being humbled or broken, is a hard place to be. But it's strangely freeing, as you let go, remove yourself from the divine driver's seat, and let God be God. In the words of Y&T:

I thought I did what's right
I thought I had the answers
I thought I chose the surest road
But that road brought me here
So I put up a fight
And told you how to help me
Now just when I have given up
The truth is coming clear

You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
For You know better than I

God's plan is the A-plan. Sometimes that coincides with my A-plan. But when it doesn't, that does not imply second-best, B-team material. God's best is always the best. Period.

Now, can I (can we) live like I (we) believe it?