This Christmas in pictures...

My sister and me a few days before Christmas

Oops, Auto-timer seems to have left one out!













Christmas Card 2007



















Charlie's Angels plus Charlie, slightly distracted

















Classic and Old School

Grab-bag

* Friday night, some girl friends and I went contra-dancing down in my town for my birthday. Conversation with my first dance partner of the night went something like this:

Me: "So, what are you doing here in Chapel Hill?"
Him: "Well, I'm working on the Unified Theory of Forces... do you know what that is?"
Me: "Ohhhh, so, you're a physicist, huh?"

After that, he was hooked. My inherent knowledge of the forces had very clear pick-up value, for once in my life. The only problem was that he was somewhere in the 55 range, bald, and rather sweaty, and he kept trying to cut in when I was dancing with the young, attractive, and not so physics-y savvy men. Go figure.

* My friend Krystal and I convinced our friend Jordan that we were taking him belly dancing.

* I have been officially kicked off the match-making board. And I am not displeased with that.

* The Myers-Briggs personality test has always been fascinating to me. Going into college, I was an ENTJ (extroverted, intuitive, thinking, judging). By the end of college, thanks to living with my roommate of three years, I had become an ENTP (p is perceiving). This past week, as I browsed through historical folks who shared my personality typology, I discovered that Hitler was an ENTJ. I was quite delighted to discover that I was no longer a Hitler. My roommate was delighted as well. However, I was not so delighted to learn that I now share the same results as Osama Bin Laden. Welcome to the reign of the tyrants.

And on that note... I'm going to go and hang snow flakes all over my living room.

UR vs. ASU

I might not like football very much, but I do dig my Spiders...

And so, when the Spiders make the semifinals of the NCAA Division I tournament for the first time in 50 years, despite the fact that it's a Friday night... despite the fact that no one else wants to watch the game with me... despite the fact that watching men in spandex run around in frigid cold weather is not my favorite sight... despite the fact that our chances of winning are slim-to-none... despite all of that, I plop down on my couch to watch the entire game. Why? Because...

I'm Spider-born and Spider-bred
And when I die, I'll be Spider-dead!

And, I must say, as the the only school in the country with a spider for a mascot, University of Richmond is the only place in which I can proudly associate myself with the arachnoid family.

And, despite the fact that we did not win (ASU 55, UR 35), I am mighty proud of my Spiders for a game well-fought... one first at a time!

... next up, Spiders in Space!

Christmas

As Eartha Kitt saucily drums out 'Santa Baby..' for the twelfth time on the radio, and the population of small twinkling lights and inflatable figures of jolly old men increases all around, I am starting to get the message that this season called 'Christmas' is upon us once again! Plus, the 6 foot tall red-gold-and-tacky Christmas tree in my living room possibly gives it away. If not, then the Santa hats, which I have readily available in my book bag, certainly do...

Have you ever noticed that everyone wears red near Christmas time?

Have you noticed that gift giving is increasingly pressure-filled? To get the 'right' gift, to spend the same amount, to give someone their wildest dreams?

Have you noticed that Santa is everywhere?

Have you noticed that you have about ten gazillion parties to attend between now and Dec. 24th?

Have you noticed that when Dec. 25th rolls around, it strangely feels like a let-down after 31 days of build-up and hype?

Me too.

But what if... instead of these being silly things that we do around Christmastime, they are actually reflections of what we're really longing for? What if, instead of being things which distract us from the message of Christmas, they are reflections of our heart-longings for the true message of Christmas?

What if our desire to give the perfect gift is a reflection of the fact that Christmas is about the giving of the One perfect, spotless, unblemished gift? That's the theme of the season... yet we become so absorbed with our own "perfect" gifts that we lose sight of the perfect gift which we have already been given. When you give the "perfect" gift to someone, you know it! You see their look of pleasure, and you know that you have found something that delights them, satisfies them, and gives them joy. And it gives you joy to give it! How much more does our Heavenly Father take joy in giving us the perfect gift! What if, gift giving this season became an act of worship, rather than a position of pressure? What if we sought to give the "perfect" gift in recognition that we've already received the perfect gift, on this holiday that we celebrate?

What if Santa's prevalence is merely reflective of the fact that we're anxiously seeking after the one who can give us good gifts? We long for the one who can grant our wildest desires? Deep down, we all want joy and happiness, and all too often, we are looking in the wrong places for the Gift Giver. What if Santa is gives cheap imitations of the good gifts that we were designed for?

What if we celebrate with parties crammed into Christmas season, because that's what we were designed to do in light of Christmas? Have you ever wondered why we celebrate Christmas, in absence of Christ? What if we celebrate because the angels celebrated? The wise men left their houses, wrapped their gifts, and went to a party... (Herod was the five-0h shutting down the party). But what if our instinct to celebrate, party, and have fun during Christmas season is a reflection of the joy that we SHOULD have in light of Christ's birth, reflected even into the secular world?

And what if our disappointment at the end of Christmas day comes because Christmas celebrations do not END on December 25th? What if, we were designed to celebrate, have joy, and give good gifts, year-round. What if our let-down at the end of the Christmas-day comes because we realize that what we're basing our holiday on is missing the meat-and-potatoes? Christmas in absence of Christ is never satisfying. And Christmas that does not carry into the rest of the year is empty. At the end of Christmas day, the gifts we give and receive are never satisfying because they pale in light of the Good Gift that we were designed for, given Christmas day. At the end of Christmas, the party shouldn't end, because our joy doesn't depend on a fat jolly man. And at the end of Christmas, our story isn't over....

I can't do anything with the red legitimately. I'm very sorry. I have failed you. BUT, consider this: the Christmas story, the perfect gift, is not the completion of the story. The perfect gift came specifically for you and me, in full recognition that that would take going to the cross. That would mean the intention sacrifice of the perfect Son of God. What if, every time you see red this Christmas season, you and I remember that the Christmas story is not the end of the story. What if, that red leads you to remember the cross. And what if the cross leads you to remember the empty tomb?

What if the perfect gift isn't done giving? What if the party isn't over? And what if, when we speak the name of Christ in context during Christmas time, we see the whole picture? Not just the baby in the manager, not just the man upon the cross, but the risen Lord completing the perfect gift? It is finished.

What if everything about this season is a reflection of the real meaning of the season? What if, even in secular traditions, we see truth?

That's something to think about.

Just because...

Context: I emailed a woman at my current church, who knows someone from my home church in Winston-Salem, and she responded by telling me this story about our common acquaintances:

"This guy named Jim lived downstairs. He used to put his snakes out on the crepe myrtle in the backyard so it could sun itself while Beth and I were lying out back doing the same thing."

Side note: Jim and Beth are now happily married and have been for over 20 years.

Just goes to show...

for kicks...

... the union on campus at UNC has very limited seating, in particular, for carrying on deep, silly, and/or meaningful conversation. In the past two months, I have become an expert at locating just that perfect seating location. Sometimes this involves the perfect technique of hovering. Sometimes this is just good timing. However, this morning, my "luck" ran amouk.

I was forced to journey down to the basement of the union, wherein, I discovered the perfect location for quiet and peaceful meetings. Little did I know, but over Thanksgiving break, UNC renovated the lovely room on the left side of the study area downstairs in the union. They have put in hundreds of nice chairs and tables... fantastic study location and the best part is... no one knows about it yet!

And, in case that wasn't perk enough... the neon flashy sign over the entrance still reads "the Caberet." Renovation not quite complete.

Yes, folks, this is true. I set up shop in the caberet. And talk about Jesus. A lot. :-)

good days... and then not good days

ALEXANDER AND THE TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY
by Judith Viorst

"I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day...." (for the rest of the story: go here )

Some days you just wake up and know that they'll be spectacular! Others, even in Australia, just aren't so hot. On the days that aren't so hot, I am constantly reminded of a Matt Redman song, which goes something like this:

Blessed be Your name/ When the sun's shining down on me/ When the world's 'all as it should be/ 'Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name/ On the road marked with suffering/ Though there's pain in the offering
/Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out/ I'll turn back to praise/ When the darkness closes in, Lord/ Still I will say/ Blessed be the name of the Lord

So, blessed be the name of the Lord, whether on good days, or even on Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad days... can I do that?

I choose to say yes. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Off-roading... in a civic?

So, Thanksgiving day 2007...

It all began on a ordinary day in November. I was in Richmond, Virginia, at my grandparents house, for a fantastic day of turkey, relatives, and many many more stories, foods, and adventures. Turns out that my apartment mate from senior year of college was also in town, and had no plans for Thanksgiving.

"Well, HEY!, why don't you spend it with me and my family?!" quoth I.

"Yes!" says she.

So, at 9:00am Thursday morning, I drive into University of Richmond to pick her up.

Enter the road race. Literally.

I start down my typical route through campus to Whitehurst, to pick her up... and upon rounding the bend by the chaplaincy, I encounter approximately 500 runners trekking along on their annual Turkey trot. Not a problem; I am good at 3-point turns. Don't ask how I've gained that skill. I turn around. I go the long way through campus (passing a table full of water cups and some very confused onlookers around mid-campus). Lo-and-behold, when I am less than a block away from Whitehurst, what do I see, but the same bunch of runners, running across the road in front of me. Hey, roadblock. I practice my 3-point turn again. All entrances to Tatiana are completely blocked off by hundreds of sweaty people.

I park in the dining hall parking lot, about half a mile from where I need to meet her, calling to re-arrange picking her up. Because of the large numbers of runners, we cannot go the normal way through that half-mile. So, for once, thank heavens for the drought. We walk through the now-mostly-dry over-flow drainage dam behind the commons. Slip. Oops. Slime. Yuck. We make it back to my car.... just in time to see the runners begin to stream by the entrance to the dining hall parking lot. TRAPPED! There is no way out.

We look to the right: the runners are coming by the hundreds.
We look to the left: there go the runners, taking up the entire road.
We look straight ahead: no-entrance, one-way street.

Best option: one-way street. When a few runners slow briefly, I gun it, breaking through their train, straight up the one-way street, wrong way right. We come to the end of the one way street, only to see the slower runners still running by our one and only exit route....

Slow motion, matrix style.... Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

The only other option is a parking lot to our left, bordering a soccer field and the Alumni center. At this point we have been driving around for about 30 minutes. On a very small campus. My frustration reaches a maximum.

"Are you game?" I ask.
Tatiana clutches her seat with both hands and nods.

As if in the movies, I slowly twist the steering wheel, and we leave the parking lot. We are now on the grass. Heading toward a large row of bushes. With a very small gap. Just Honda Civic size, as a matter of fact. We ease through the gap, less than an inch on both sides. We are now on the soccer field, bouncing through the ruts and turns and ditches. Off-roading... yeah.... A row of holly trees is our final obstacle. The gap there looks too narrow. Tatiana sucks in her breath, as if that will help make our obstacle less horrific. With less than an inch to spare, we clear the gap, bounce through a ditch which is far deeper than I estimated, and emerge on the main road... right in front of the yellow triangular sign stating:

"Slow for emerging traffic."

Bet they didn't know how aptly they positioned that sign, now did they?

And we nearly hit a very surprised jogger. Nearly.

And that is the story of Thanksgiving Day 2007, when I went off-roading in my Honda Civic.

Why Discipleship? (part III)

Discipleship is the way in which people and the church as a body grow concurrently.

We are called to discipleship because it is the way in which the church grows. It is Biblically mandated, as well as shown in examples throughout scripture and the secular world. Hebrews 10:24 says “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.” Ephesians 4:11-13 says that God gave each one of God’s people individual gifts, for the benefit of the body, “so that the body of Christ might be build up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.” Romans 15:1-2 tells us “We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves. Each of us should please his neighbor for his good, to build him up.” In the same way that Deuteronomy 6:7 commands parents to speak of the Lord’s decrees to their children and instruct them in the ways in which they should go, we too are called to holy admonition of one another. In other words, the role of each member of the body is to strengthen, train, and build up the other members of the body. Furthermore, those who are stronger are called to bear up the weaknesses of the weaker.

Discipleship leadership and growth is also demonstrated through scripture: Joshua learned from Moses, Elisha trailed Elijah for years, Jesus led his twelve disciples, Paul trained Timothy and together they led the churches. Even in secular community, parents raise their children, training them in the ways in which they should go; doctors have residency; successful politicians have mentors; and graduate students have doctoral advisors. Discipleship, or the act of relational growing, is not only scripturally mandated and essential to the person of Christ, but is also the way in which we were designed to grow.

Without discipleship, the growth of the church stagnates, or, as Bonhoeffer said, is Christianity without Christ.

Why Discipleship? (part II)

We are called to discipleship because this is the example which Christ practices and teaches and it works

The ministry of Christ extends this call to discipleship, by illustrating the perfect work of church growth, painting a picture of leadership development, spiritual mentoring, and mass revival of which the post-modern church could certainly take note. Jesus divides his time into four categories: time with the disciples, time with the masses, healing the sick (an extension of time with the masses), and time alone with the Father. Robert Coleman points out that in the public relations department, Jesus spent the majority of his time with the disciples (Coleman 45). He concentrated on twelve men, for the benefit of the majority. Coleman (35) observes, “Jesus was not trying to impress the crowd, but to usher in the kingdom. This meant that he needed people who could lead the multitudes.” He built his ministry around relationship, recognizing that it is both the end goal of redemption and the means by which redemption is brought to fruition.


In John 15:15-16, Jesus describes his leadership strategy and relationship with the disciples, saying “I no longer call your servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father, I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last…” Jesus calls his disciples, he trains them, and he sends them, recognizing that this is the most effective way to reach the masses. He invited them into his presence, equipping them to lead when he was no longer present. It was the work of eleven of these men that laid the foundation for the modern church. In John 17:18-20, Jesus sends the disciples into the world, praying for them and those who will hear his words through them. Jesus recognized, as Coleman (31) points out, that his ministry depended on these few many leading the many. Jesus is, as Cloud and Townsend point out, our example for living (chapter 5) as well as training disciples. Our very relationship with him is a discipleship relationship because he is our living example. This is what Bonhoeffer meant, saying that Christianity without discipleship is like Christianity without Christ.

We are called to discipleship because we are called to follow Christ.

Why Discipleship? (part I)

“Christianity without discipleship is always Christianity without Christ.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Discipleship is an important practice to pursue for three reasons: first, because relationship is God’s covenant plan for the growth and maturity of his people; second, because this discipleship the example which Christ practices and teaches and it works; and third, because discipleship is the way in which people and church as a body grow concurrently (Stay tuned for parts II and III).

PART I: God's Covenant Plan for the growth and maturity of his people:

In Genesis, in the final act of creation, God said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness…” (Genesis 1:26). Inherent in this first statement is the idea that God is completed community unto himself; this is reaffirmed in the theology of the trinity, God in three persons, in perfect community, or perichoresis, with himself. Man, because he is designed in God’s image, is also made for community. The second thing which God tells us about man is that “It is not good for man to be alone” (Genesis 2:18). And so God makes for him a helpmate, to walk with him, share his load, and literally, to “help” him. In other words, man was designed both to walk with God and to walk with others.

Two things can be learned from Genesis about the practice of discipleship: first, man was made for both horizontal (with one another) and vertical (with God) community; inherent in his DNA is the need for community to be an integral part of any process which he undertakes. Second, the curse results in a loss of both horizontal and vertical community (Genesis 3:8-24). Therefore, the work of redemption is a return to the created order (Cloud 37) in which we are called back into two relationships: relationship with God and relationship with others. This return to relationship is both the end and the means to the end of the redemption from sin. In other words, the end result of our redemption is that we are restored to right relationship with God and each other. Yet, the method by which we are brought near to salvation is also relationship (both with others and with Christ). Cloud and Townsend put it this way (122): “Independence from relationship is independence from God himself, for he is present in his Body; it is also independence from the way he designed us to grow… Biblical growth is designed to include other people as God’s instruments.”

Discipling is simply the art of relational growth. It is from this basis of relationship that we as Christians receive our call to discipleship.

Pain, Gain, and Teamwork.

On Sunday, dear friends, I ran a 5K in Raleigh. The Old Reliable Race has occurred for 24 years now, and supports United Way... I learned this after being interviewed about it on TV.

For those of you not savvy in the running sphere, a 5K is a 3.11 mile race, typically run, jogged, walked or sprinted.

First place went to a very very horizontally challenged man. Turn him sideways, and he disappeared. Except for the florescent orange shorts, which would reveal his location, even on the darkest night. Second place went to a man with a baby stroller. Added momentum, I think so... the child slept throughout the entire race. Meanwhile, I nabbed the interview with News Channel 14, airing on TV for a total of 30 seconds, 24 times in one day. Yes, overkill. But dang it, I enjoyed it. And I had a remarkable finish in 28 minutes and some change. Fifth place woman in my age category. Two-hundred and fifty-second overall. Yes, I like the first statistic better.

And unlike the last 5K that I ran, wherein I decided to check out the "pain is gain" philosophy of not training and "just doing it," (Nike meets Nietzsche?) I actually trained for this race. However, I converted Jim, our Intervarsity international staff to my mentality of pain and gain... ergo, my legacy lives on. Regardless...

Upon the conclusion of this race, I found myself considering racing as a mentality for life, yet again. This particular race, I ran as a team with a friend... we trained together, we planned the race, and we ran the race together. And our time reflected our combined effort. Now, let's be straight... I am incredibly competitive. I view running as a competitive sport in which I strive, by myself, to beat my own personal speed goals. I have never run as a team before. And frankly, the idea scares me most of the time. I like to be a lone ranger, dang it. After all, this is why I run: So that I don't have to play with other kids. Clearly.

But sometimes, the game isn't about me. Shocker, yes, I know. Sometimes, running is like life. And our task is to run as a team. For the benefit of the team. Even if that means taking one for the team. Or being carried by the team. One of my friends tells a great story about running as a team with another woman... my friend fell, early in the race, and ran slowly, with a limp, for the remainder of the race. Her friend, rather than finishing with a quicker time, slowed down to run with my friend. She encouraged her, challenged her, and made her finish. She ran the race for the team, not for herself. Her time was slower, but their combined average was faster than it would have been, had she left my friend in the dust, and finished by herself.

The same metaphor applies when we're learning about community. Sometimes its easier to keep running on ahead, by ourselves, grasping concepts which seem easy to us, leaving behind those who don't seem to get it as quickly.... for example:

* Multi-ethnicity
* Social Justice
* Discipleship
* The idea and necessity of Community

Just understanding it ourselves is enough... so we blast by, leaving behind our "teammates" finishing the race by ourselves within our allotted time period. We lack a team mentality. I lack a team mentality. We don't slow down to carry our teammates with us. We expect them to keep up, and if they don't, darn it, well that's just too bad.

So I'm going to propose something radical.

What if we're called to run as a team, and our combined time, metaphorically speaking, is what matters, not our individual times?

What if we're called to be a body? Imagine if the leg were to say that it wanted to grow to full potential, without the torso also growing in proportion? Disaster, right?

What if you are your brother's keeper, and what happens to your brothers and sisters in community matters to your growth?

What if it's more important that you both cross the line, than that you individually cross it quickly?

Does this mean don't run as though to win the race? No.
Does it mean that you hinder your own growth? No.
Does it mean that you have to change your mindset, to "run" or "live" for the team? Yes.

Radical, yes. Worth it, yes. Something to think about...

Messy People and Trusting God for Rain

There tends to be this perception that when you elect to go into ministry, they give you a shot (similar to the cootie shot), and you become perfect. Lies. No amount of circles, squares or polka-dots make the cootie shot or the perfection shot effective. I still have the same weaknesses, doubts and fears. And I've been learning, slowly, over the past few weeks, the truth of a phrase a pastor shared with me many years ago: "Cheer up! You're much worse than you think you are. But, cheer up! God is so much bigger and better than you think he is."

I think, in all of us, there is a tendency to not want people to see our junk. We like putting on the façade that we're perfect. We have this misguided perception that our imperfection is abnormal. So let me dispel a myth: I am not perfect. (Shocker, I know.) Further, you are not perfect either. But God has a habit of using broken people for his glory. And, here's the kicker, he is glorified in their weakness, because of their weaknesses, and through their weaknesses, not in spite of them. 2 Corinthians 12:9 tells us, "But he (the Lord) said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses, so that God's power may rest upon me." Check out the Biblical line-up of heroes that God used: Abraham (gave his wife away twice), David (adulterer and murderer), Moses (murderer, ran away from conflict, afraid to speak), etc. etc. Imagine if they lived today… you think people are disturbed by Thomas Jefferson's illegitimate children; imagine what they would think of President-King David, and First-Lady Bathsheba. Yet, God did amazing things through these leaders, through their weakness and strengths…

Why does God use weak people? (1) Because there is no such thing as a non-weak person, and (2) because in recognition of our weaknesses, we recognize his strength, and all the glory goes where it's supposed to go. In the same way, I have great hopes that God has incredible plans for us, as his broken people.

Wednesday morning, I awoke to one of the most beautiful sounds that I have heard in the last two months: the soft and steady pelt of rain! For over a month now, the majority of North Carolina has been without rain. We are in a state of "exceptional" drought, and just this week, my county voted to go to stage two water restrictions. Our reservoirs are at half-capacity: we've been hearing dates for when drinking water will run out, if the drought continues. Some of the men and women in InterVarsity have decided to stop shaving, in a conservation effort to lower water usage. The lack of rain is quite literally making things a little hairy. Lord, have mercy; please pray for rain!

There are many things we can and should do to conserve water (including cutting shower time in half with the shaving thing), yet, try as we might, we cannot make it rain. God alone sends the rain. In the same way, God alone is in charge of the work that he is doing through us. We are merely the vessels. And just like we have a responsibility to be careful with our water usage, we also are called to be obedient to him, walking in his ways, and striving to imitate him. But, at the end of the day, he's the one that makes it rain. "As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish… so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It does not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it."(Isaiah 55:10-11) We play our part; but let's let him be God, ok? Even if that means acknowledging that we are weak, and letting him use our weaknesses for his glory…

ahh facebook...

Dearly beloved, I must confess, facebook is both a love and a hate of mine.

I mean, where else can you send flowers to, throw a sheep at, or cheer for your friends? And where else can you spend 10 consecutive hours "friending" people, without even talking to them? Where else does a more comprehensive social networking tool (that's not government classified) exist? And yes, those picture sharing moments... priceless. Or, if you prefer the priced version, facebook also provides that for mere dollars and cents...

Yet, you know that facebook has reached a new level, when it teaches you vocabulary words previously used only on the GRE and other graduate equivalent tests.

Case in point: to defenestrate someone via superpoke.

Never before have I met such a large number of people who know what that incredibly complicated and long word means. Why? Simple. Facebook. :-) Redemption? Perhaps.

By the way, to defenestrate, for those non-facebook savvy, means "to throw out a window." Ah yes, facebook, I knew that you had some educational purpose. :-)

Life's Storybook

Confession: I am a journal maniac. I have kept journals since I was 9 years old. And I still have them all. One day when I am famous, someone will open my closet and find my entire life story, scrawled across the pages... handwriting changing drastically over the years!


My journal is probably the book that I open the most often. Some days I don't write at all, and others, I write several times. It is small enough to fit inside my purse, unobtrusive enough to take notes in, and perfect for sketching, doodling, pondering, or pouring out my soul. If you flip through the pages you'll see comic book characters, phone numbers, scenic meadows, tear stains, quiet times, and random poems. It is, in a word, my written storybook. And two nights ago, I finished yet another chapter to it, as I scrawled words on the final sheet of this particular journal..

When I was 9 years old, and began journaling, my journal entries looked something like:

"Dear Journal, Today I woke up at 6am and did my math homework. I hate math. I fed my goat and then ate lunch. I had a peanut butter sandwich. I really like ______ (insert name of crush-of-the-week). Jen told me that if it snows in August she will eat a wheat thin. She really does not like them. Love, Kristen."

As I got older, my journal entries became slightly more developed and more legible. For example, this entry from 27 August 2007 using running as a metaphor for a long work in progress:

"It's mile 4. I'm past the halfway marker... but my muscles are aching. My lungs are burning. My feet thud with dull certainty against the pavement. And everything in me screams, just stop. You've come so far... you're far enough... you can finally rest. Relax. Breathe. But I'm running a race, and just to compete... to make it 3/4 of the way... is not enough. I am running to finish the race, because I know the prize that is in front of me. And so, I run on."

Slightly different vocabulary. Slightly more complex analysis and depth of analogy. Still horrible spelling. But the basic jist was the same: I wrote about the people in my life, what I did, what I thought, and how I felt. I told my story. And, unlike in many personal relationships, my journal knows my entire story. It has seen my tears. It has captured my joys. It has felt the burn of my anger. It has reams filled with exclamation points, question marks and celebration. It cannot truly know me; it is an inanimate object, devoid of feelings, emotions or response. Yet, often times, I have trusted it with my soul more often than people around me. Why? Because until your little sister reads your journal out loud to your Sunday afternoon company, your journal cannot speak back. It can't fail you. It cannot let you down by not responding appropriately. It cannot lie to you. It cannot take your trust and hurt or excitement and trash it. And sometimes, it just feels safer.

And please don't misunderstand me. I love my journal. I will continue journaling; I think it's an excellent and healthy place to process thoughts, prayers, emotions, God, men, dreams, etc. But I also think there is a danger of that becoming our only processing ground. In the insulated world that we live in, the majority of our "processing" and even communicating is done in isolation. We talk on the phone while driving in our cars by ourselves. We walk to class with our ipods turned up to full blast. We keep a blog. We chat via instant message and text message. We facebook stalk. The majority of our communication and processing is done devoid of real human interaction. The result of this? Often, we find ourselves not really known. Our story has been edited so many times that there's not much left. The pages are kind of dusty. And we are alone. Lonely. And we miss out on seeing the whole of our story: our focus is so narrow that we leave out many of the characters never letting them enter into the margins.

As I was thinking about this concept of being known, I was struck by how often we allow our friendships to sink to the level of my 9 year old journals. We know all about the other person, but at the end of the day, we fail to really know the person. In the midst of stories and factoids, we miss the person who thinks, feels, and is. We can tell you many things about their daily activities, their GPA, their family, their 7 foot 1 crush (or 5 foot 1), and what they ate for breakfast, but we miss how they're feeling inside, what they aspire to, and who they are sans all activities. We miss the person. In this regard often grown-up journal reading has an edge because people are more inclined to share their inner soul with lined paper and a pen (or a keyboard and cyber space), than with their friends. And this is a myth of "life" that our culture perpetuates in its "individualized" mentality.

So, I have a challenge for both of us.... you and me.

This week, just once, let's trust enough to share our story with a close friend. Be wise; chose someone that you trust, and who is trustworthy. Do it in person, not online or on facebook or via text message. God has given you a wonderful story to tell... one in which the characters are still being added, the plot is still being developed, and the dialogue can be funky often. But it's your story. And I guarantee you, there is someone out there who needs to hear it. Perhaps they're even a character in it. So while story telling on the pages is not a bad thing, don't let it be an excuse for not telling your story to those around you.

Tell your story. It might even surprise you! The narrative is so much bigger than you'll ever know.... and you'll never know until you dare to tell it. :-)

Zede-who-zi-kiah?

So, as aforementioned, I've been trekking through Jeremiah for my personal devotions this semester (and I would highly recommend it). However, often times, the story line goes something like this:

Jeremiah tells the people what God says.
The people don't listen and don't care that they don't listen.
God does what he says he is going to do.
The people get angry.
Jeremiah gets horrible things done to him.

So yesterday, I rolled into chapters 37-39 and the reign of a new king named Zedekiah. Old Zeke is actually interested in listening to Jeremiah. In fact, he's fascinated with the words that Jeremiah is speaking. He constantly invites Jeremiah to come and talk to him, even pledging to protect Jeremiah's life, on oath before God, in order to hear the words of Lord through Jeremiah. Three times, he entreats Jeremiah to come and speak to him:

Jeremiah 37:3-> "please pray to the Lord our God for us."
Jeremiah 37:16-18 -> "Is there any word from the Lord?"
Jeremiah 38:14 -> "I am going to ask you something... do not hide anything from me."

Repeatedly, Jeremiah tells Zedekiah to surrender to the Babylonians, for the sake of his people, his city, and his life. Every time, Zedekiah listens, and hears the words of the prophet. Yet, and here's the kicker, he does not act on the words of the Lord; he does not accept them as true for himself. Rather, he is merely a consumer of truth, hearing the words of the Lord, but not accepting them as true, or acting on their validity.

How many times do you and I remember having friends who are fascinated with religion or God-talk? Or perhaps that is you or me...

We hang out in Christian community.
We listen to truth constantly, and we like the way that the gospel makes us feel.
We like knowing about God.
We like engaging "spirituality."
We even enjoy the intellectual stimulation of a good hearty debate about Christian moralism in a post-modern society filled with the evils of relativism.

Yet the take-home from Zedekiah is that just hearing the truth is not enough. Engaging it on an intellectual level, surrounding ourselves with those who believe in its veracity, and placating our consciences from their Sunday guilt is not sufficient. Like Zedekiah, we can surround ourselves with religion or spirituality, and still never know truth for ourselves. And at the end of the day, the truth is still the truth, and God's word does not come back empty. In Zedekiah's case, this meant that he watched his sons and nobles be slaughtered before his eyes. Then his own eyes were removed, and he was bound in bronze shackles for the journey to Babylon (Jeremiah 39:6-7). He knew the truth. He had heard it three times. Yet he did not accept it for himself.

The same question applies to us today. Knowing the gospel is not enough. I know several individuals who can give the correct answer to any spiritual question which you would pose. They can quote scripture better than some pastors. Yet they will tell you that they have not been able to accept it for themselves because they are "still searching." It's a step in the right direction, but eventually, they have to chose... Unfortunately, spiritual proximity does not save us. Free will dictates that we have the choice to accept or reject salvation. We are justified by faith... saved by grace, not works... yet we must take the step of faith (literally) and believe for ourselves, accepting the truth of the gospel as true for us personally...

You can know that the medicine will heal your disease, but if you don't take it, you will not get better.

You can believe that you need food, in order to live, but if you don't take the food and eat it, you will not get sustenance.

So Zedekiah found himself lacking sons, nobles, and eyeballs, and carrying very heavy chains to Babylon... He was offered wellness and life. Child of God, you are offered salvation from your sins. But you, like Zedekiah, have a choice to make.... and at the end of the day, just hearing the word is not enough.

Horticulture, revisited

I have been ruminating on the horticulture illustration, about which I wrote not too long ago. So, a slightly different take, this time around:

In the art of horticulture, the grafted branch is chosen for its ability to bear fruit. To dig deep, and produce good fruit, according to its purpose. But its roots are weak. And so, it is torn from its old environment, and spliced into the new. And then, as it grows, it is often transplanted or pruned, so that it will produce the best possible fruit.

Sometimes, I wonder if the branch (like, oh say, me) complains. It's not comfortable. It feels out of place. It's not like the other branches on the tree. It doesn't feel like it's producing as much fruit as before. Pruning hurts. And it has to be utterly and completely dependent on the root.

This past Thursday was a melting point for me. I had barely made it out the door before the tears began to flow. Before I left Winston-Salem, one of my advocates at Redeemer prayed that I would get lost at Chapel Hill, so that I would be forced to ask for directions. Well, Thursday night, I felt lost. Alone. Empty. And not able to do much at all. All the doubts, worries, and insecurities were overwhelming. And the voices in my head accusing me would not be quiet. I felt like a branch severed from its comfort zone, out of place, and barren.

Yet the branch is not bound to the root nor pruned for the purpose of the pain, although that is involved; not because it cannot bear fruit, because it naturally has the ability to bear fruit. Rather, it is re-planted, pruned, and transplanted because the good gardener knows that the branch will produce far richer, better fruit, when it is rooted solidly in good soil and well-pruned. When it has to depend on the good root for its sustenance and nutrients. This is completely counter-intuitive to our culture, which teaches self-sufficiency, independence, and isolation. The branch has to be dependent, otherwise, it will wither and die. Pruning always takes the branch back to the root and the tree, as the parts closest to the sustenance are the most healthy. For Christians, the analogy is much the same. We have to be dependent, both on God (the vine and the gardener) and on the body (the rest of the tree), or we too will wither and die. Our own strength is not enough to sustain us. And the old root never did.

So, when I got home on Thursday, I called a good friend, who knows me well, and loves me despite my weaknesses. Speaking truth in love, she reminded me of who I am in Christ. She reminded me that I am weak. I am unable. And I was looking to myself to be all, do all, and, as the frosting on the cake, make everyone think that I was cool. And I was failing. I was depending on myself, and looking to others for my worth. Yet, she also reminded me of the strength of the root, the wisdom of the gardener, and my own need to depend upon the vine. The truth of the matter is, I am created in the image of God; my worth is defined by him. And yes, I will fail on my own strength. But His strength is enough. The root is strong and dependable, and when we rely on it, we will grow. The old root is dying. Self-sufficiency will get us nowhere. And while the transplant is hard, and does not feel all pretty, warm, and fuzzy, the gardener knows what He is doing.

The first transplant which we undergo is being grafting into the vine, joining God's family. Yet as the years progress, he again and again calls us to trust Him, drinking deeply from the root, as he replants us, challenges us, and prunes us for our good and his glory. Always, we are called to depend on the good root, bearing fruit as a result of His nutrients.

Yet for the sake of growth, for the sake of better, for the sake of glory, sometimes the Gardener makes the cut, and takes the branch out of its comfort zone, into a new, strange environment. And while it hurts, and it takes time for the branch to bear fruit, the Gardener knows what he is doing. He is preparing for the feast. He is taking ordinary fruit and transforming it into a one of a kind masterpiece which only He could dream up.

Solidly rooted, deeply grown, sweet, beautiful, magnificent, and far better than that grown in the backyard orchard. For the sake of glory, we endure the pain and discomfort of transplantation, because ultimately, we know that the Gardener is for us. And He knows what He is doing.

The gift of coffee

Gentle reader, if you are not already sitting down, I think this might be a timely occasion to take said precautions and seat yourself. Are you prepared for the shock which is about to envelop this room?

Today has been a day of monumental occasion. This morning, when I woke up, I did not start the coffee. Nor did I grab my trusty coffee mug on the way out the door. Nor did I stop in Alpine or Daily Grind to refuel my trusty coffee mug. Nor did I get coffee in Panera (although it would have completed my bagel and cheese perfectly). No, dear friend, for the first time in almost a year and a half, I have had a day completely devoid of coffee. And let me tell you, it has certainly changed my life.

... I couldn't ask students if they wanted to go grab a cup of coffee. And "Would you like to grab a mug of milk?" just doesn't have the same ring to it.

... I found it hard to fully appreciate Panera, without the lovely free refills of delicious coffee constantly reminding me of my gratitude.

... I couldn't ask a friend to go grab coffee with me after dinner, because oh wait, I wasn't drinking coffee.

... and I took a nap on my kitchen floor around 4pm when the lack of caffeine kicked in.

But, all in all, I must say, this experimental separation from my beloved beverage merely made me miss it deeply, appreciate it more, and look for external sources of entertainment and ways of keeping myself awake. In exchange for the rooty-tooty richness of my cup of joe, I:

-- saw a fire engine do a three point turn in the middle of Franklin street. Classy.
-- learned that when you eat goat cheese and pass gas, it smells like a goat.
-- had a letter k made out of a straw as a present for me.
-- had an excuse to take a nap in the middle of the day.

But in seriousness, sometimes it is necessary to take good things in our lives and put them once again into prospective. As I took a day away from coffee, I noticed how much of my day depends on and centers around that love. Coffee is not in and of itself a bad thing, but it does have the potential to gain more prominence in my life than it should. Any good thing in our lives has that potential: food, drink, friends, sex, music, shopping, etc. But Jesus is the only one who can rule our lives. Coffee, or my dependence on it, should not even be close. Our good gifts, loves, and passions, should never replace our love for our Savior, our dependence on Him, and His prominence in our lives.

I don't know what those items are in your lives... but if you find yourself relying upon anything to the degree that you "can't live without it," I would urge you to put it in perspective. Take a day, week, month, hour away. It's a good thing to have passions and pleasures, and a plow to which we can lay a shoulder gladly. But those gifts of God should never never be given more time, weight, importance, or love than He receives. And if that means that we have to take a step back, in order to more fully appreciate the God and the gift, then I think that is the bean of choice...

So, Java Joe, you are my sweet love. But dearest love, my life does not rely on your rich aroma. And as a reminder of that fact, sometimes it is necessary that I lay aside what I love, so that I can keep perspective on what is truly the most important in life.

A Lesson in Horticulture

So one weekend this summer, I was hanging out at my aunt and uncle's house for an afternoon. They live on a small farm, and grow a wide variety of vegetables and fruits. Our typical routine involves taking a quick spin around the garden and orchard before we head instead to eat a meal rich with the produce of those two respective plots. On this particular visit, the lesson of the day was on grafting apple trees...

For those like me, unfamiliar with the process, Grafting is the process of taking a shoot from one plant (typically one designed for bearing fruit) and attaching it to another plant (typically one that has sturdy roots). To do this, first you cut the branch which you want to transplant from its source. Then, you cut a cleft in the tree or bush that serves as the root. Inserting the shoot into the cleft, you then bind the "wound" tightly, so that the shoot does not fall out, and so that the nutrients of the tree can be transported to the shoot. As the "wound" heals, the vascular structure and tissues of the two merge, and become one. The nutrients of the tree will then be transported to the shoot. The wound, while completely healed, is visibly evident in the large knob which forms around the graft, where the shoot was literally bound into the root.

The metaphor of the vine and the branches, and the grafting process is used numerous times throughout scripture, as a form of illustration of our relationship with God: He as the vine, we as the branches, which are grafted into his family. As I visited with my aunt and uncle, the visual example of grafting made me look at the metaphor in a slightly different light... My lesson in horticulture struck me with three new realizations:

Lesson number 1: The branches depend on the root for life. The root does not need the branches in order to be sustained. God's work, already begun, does not perish without the in graft of new branches. The root provides the structure, the nutrients, and the means for growth. Without the root, the branch dies. The role of the branch is to produce fruit. This is its only role. It is also the role for which the branch is designed, but it is only completed and made good when the branch is joined to the tree. Romans 11:17-18 tells us as Christians likewise,

"If some of the branches have been broken off, and, you, though a wild olive shoot, have been grafted in among the others and now share in the nourishing sap from the olive root, do not boast over those branches. If you do, consider this: You do not support the root, but the root supports you."

Again, John 15:5 Jesus tells us, "I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."

Lesson number 2: The branches grafted into the new root must be completely separated from their old root. They cannot be joined to and sustained by both the old and the new. If you try and splice a branch to two roots, the branch will die, because the raw wound will not be fully healed as it is bound to the tree. The nutrients will "leak out" and not produce good fruit. The roots determine the growth of the branch. If you are united to both the world and Christ, you will not grow. You cannot be rooted in both kingdoms. Romans 6:5-6 tells us,

"For when we were controlled by the sinful nature, the sinful passions aroused by the law were at work in our bodies, so that we bore fruit for death. But now, by dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new ways of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code."

Lesson number 3: The result of the graft is visibly evident in the construct of the branch. At first the graft is most visible in the knob, uniting the branch and the vine. As the months and years progress, the graft is visible in the fruit, as the fruit shows evidence of the fruit. While the branch maintains many of the attributes of its making, over the years, it begins to look more and more like the root. The knob of its graft is still visible, but many years down the road, when the tree is fully mature, the branch begins to look more and more like the tree. Yet the knob remains, as a reminder that the branch was grafted in and remains dependent on the root.

So to with Christians. We grow more and more like the root into which we are planted. If that is the world, then our fruit demonstrates our root. If into Christ, then we are daily being transformed into His likeness. While our sinful nature remains as evidence of our graft (the knob), we anticipate when we will be without the knob, devoid of sinful nature, enveloped in God's glory, always bearing fruit to the glory of God. Revelations 22:2 tells us of the tree of life, which is "..bearing fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse."

This is what we hope for.... and what we were made for. The purpose of the branch is to bear fruit, to the glory of God. We are grafted into a good root. Let us bear fruit as such...

Chosen Stones

the silent stones of heartbeat and heartache
   of buried dreams and burning passions
veiled behind the shadow of sensibility,
   each stone a mountain transplanted
from gathering dust, death and dirt
   to grow as a foundation, small
      to fortress tall.
does it grow beneath your lowered lids
      or does it fall?
does the mountain's majesty in
   miniature form find freedom to
point heavenward, as it was designed?
   or dust unto dust, to death
     does it return?
a mountainous heap of rubble,
     under the guise of dream.


image bearer, dreamer of dreams:
     designed.
      molded.
       breathed.
eloquence incarnate,
   majesty in mere flesh,
      reflected in us.
and so we breathe, create, design,
              dream.
   images. form. beautiful.
each stone properly placed
       forms
a path of hewn and hammered
   stone, carefully captured,
 leading you, me, we
      into the heart of God.
        walk with me, brother,
               sister, friend,
let us go together into the heart of God.

*KG 19 September 2007

What is it that you do?

An InterVarsity staff worker’s primary task is to invite to students into intimate relationship with God and His church, His bride. Inherent within that task are the gerund responsibilities of

Knowing and Engaging: being familiar with the campus and students and their strengths, weaknesses, character, and needs. Not only knowing the campus, but actively seeking out ways to engage the campus through its own culture.

Translating: taking the gospel to the campus in a language that it can understand and relate to, without sacrificing or soft-peddling gospel truth. This involves careful listening, quality communication, and cross-cultural sensitivities, all the while connecting the gospel truth.

Inviting: constantly working to extend the kingdom through invitation and action.

Teaching: passing on words of truth to the students; increasing their knowledge of the kingdom through words and example.

Guiding: leading the students in Christian living, both through words, discipleship, and example. Most importantly, this involves walking with students in their lives. Again, the metaphor of the shepherd’s staff is applicable, as sometimes guiding pressure is laid on the sheep to direct it in the way in which it should go.

Affirming: welcoming the wanderers back into the fold, affirming the gifts and callings of the flock, loving the sheep, and reminding students of their identity in the fold.

Challenging: refusing to let the flock wallow in fallow or well-worn ground. Calling them to grow in their relationships with each other and with God. Making sure that they are connected to the church body.

Exemplifying: demonstrating Christian leadership, including in our weaknesses and failures. Being transparent in our dependence on Christ for our salvation and for grace to live the lives to which we are called. Living out community.

Training: equipping student leaders to be effective members of the body, the church, and effective witnesses in their spheres, whatever those are or will be.

Praying: constantly interceding for transformation of the campus, the students, and the faculty.

Hoping and Expecting: seeing the campus and students with kingdom vision. Believing that God can and will do mighty things and dreaming of how things can and will eventually be.

While all of these are elements of the role of an InterVarsity staff member, none of them are achieved every day by any of us. If the Shepherd is not present, then the staff does very little good. My job title as InterVarsity staff member can be boiled down to seeing the campus with Jesus’ eyes and loving it as he does; speaking the gospel in a language that students can hear and understand; sharing my life with students, sinful as it is, in confidence of God’s grace reflected through me; pointing to the cross; and challenging the body to grow kingdom-bound. I am a staff in the hands of the shepherd. My task is to invite children of the King into the banquet feast, in fellowship with God and each other, and to provide directions and guidance on how to get there.

**excerpts from a paper which I recently had to write.

Barbie World

So, in moving to a new town, I've been doing a lot of observing. This is a fantastic experience, and I would thoroughly encourage its practice! Clearly, we avoid observing in sketchy ways... hiding in the bushes with binoculars is not recommended. But it certainly is interesting to take an afternoon and just observe the dynamics of the people around you. In particular, I find campus and bus dynamics fascinating.

When you sit on a bus, you always sit Mon-Wed-Fri or Tues-Thurs. I have been told this is also the rule with urinals, but that's up for debate. What I mean is, unless you know the person, you always leave a seat between yourself and them. If you have to sit next to a stranger, you stare straight ahead, or off to the other side, looking anywhere but at them. Heaven forbid if you were to make eye-contact, because that would clearly mean that you had to say something.

Same way, when you are walking across campus. I spot you walking towards me from 40 feet away, do a casual observe to figure out if I know you, and then become actively fixated on the cement below my feet. Is that a twig?? Wow, my shoes are interesting! Again, eye contact very awkward. If by some chance we do talk, the conversation goes like this, "Hey-how-are-ya? I'm-good-how-about-you? Good." All this, while continuing to walk in our given direction. It's no small wonder that the guy on the bus was wearing a t-shirt which stated, "It's ok, I probably don't like you either."

In observing these trends on the public transportation and around campus, I was not surprised or shocked. In fact, I've grown rather numb to this particular experience. But today, as I was riding back on the D-line, I was struck by how much like Barbie and Ken we try to make our world. And not even the exciting Barbie and Ken, who ride in the pink sports car and clearly have the perfect lives. Unfortunately, often times, I think we model our lives against those of Barbie and Ken still in the plastic boxes on the shelves. Perfect lives. Solid walls to keep the image perfect. But let's delve a little bit deeper...

There's a great quote in the movie Shall We Dance, in which the jaded wife explains marriage, saying, "We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness'."

Along the same lines, there's a fantastic proverb which goes something like this, "Man's greatest desire is to know and be known." In the absence of being known, of being noticed, of being in real community, we live in this pseudo-world, in which the image is perfect, and the person is lost in the plastic. This should NOT be! Especially in Christian community. Community is about being known. As members of the body, we are joined together, and when one part suffers, all parts suffer. When one part rejoices, all parts celebrate.

Being known is inbuilt into our DNA because we were designed to be known by our Creator, and to know Him who made us. Adam and Eve were designed to know and be known by one another, and feel no shame. Yet sin distorted all of those designed relations. And in the absence of being really known and still accepted, we resort to plastic perfection and small boxes. In the Garden of Eden, they didn't have plastic, so they used fig leaves. Get my point? We hide as a result of our sin. But friends, despite the fact that Jesus conquered sin on the cross, we are still hiding behind our fig leaves. Empty. We still believe that we have to be perfect before we can be known. We hide. Is it safer that way? Probably. Is it easier? Most definitely. But is it better? Categorically, no! That's not how community was designed.

So friends, are we willing to break out of the plastic? To expose our nakedness and our shame? Our inability to earn our way to heaven? To claim the righteousness and strength of Christ in exchange for our sins and weaknesses? To know God, and be known by him? To know our brothers and sisters, and be known by them? And maybe, just maybe, to make eye contact with the person on the bus or on the quad, and maybe smile and say:

You are beautiful, friend, and with Jesus' righteousness, you do not need your fig leaves any more.

What is it with me and bugs?

Plotline: my roommate and I discovered that we had extra-hoppy very-hungry friends living in our carpet. This would not be a problem, except that our hoppy friends were leftover from the previous occupant's hairy four-legged critters. Not only are they delinquent and not paying rent, but they also haven't eaten in several weeks, so they were satiating their hunger by nibbling on us. If I am being too cryptic, the bottom line is, we found fleas in our floor and our flesh. So this morning, first thing (Even before making coffee!) when I woke up, I called the maintenance hotline. Hindsight: probably better to make the coffee first. Verbatim below:

::ring ring::

Hotline: Hello?

Me: Good morning! I'm the resident in apartment D 13, and I just have a quick question for you.

Hotline: Ok, what can I do to help?

Me: Well, I was wondering, did the previous occupant have a pet?

Hotline: I'm not sure, but I can check. Why?

Me: Well, I think when they moved out, they left some little friends behind, and they are biting us.

Hotline: Ummm...

Me: Meaning, there are fleas in our apartment, and they do not belong to us, nor do we wish to inherit them or adopt them.

Hotline: You have fleas?

Me: No, I do not have fleas. But my carpet does.

Hotline: Oh. Do you have a pet?

Me: Not unless the fleas count.

Hotline: Oh, ok. Hmm. Ok. So what can I do for you?

Me: Umm....Well, see, the point is, we have fleas. But we don't want them. They bite.

Hotline: Ohhh ok, so you want me to get rid of them.

Me: YES!

Hotline: Riiiiiiight, extermination (::said with delightful vengeance!::)!

Me: Sure?!

Hotline: Ok. Now who are you, again?

Great morning. Thankfully, extermination is on its way. Little friends, you are soon to be no more. And your great dance party, while it has been spectacular, will soon end. Boogie woogie woogie, zap! Lunch is over, fellas. May you rest in peace.

For I know the plans I have for you...

So, this summer, I've been reading the book of Jeremiah... at the beginning of the summer, it just seemed fitting for my station in life. Now, I keep reading it, because the story that it tells is of a sinful people who time and time again don't get it. God punishes them. And God promises redemption. They spend a lot of time in exile... and then have a few "ah-ha" moments. Sound familiar? Regardless, this morning, my trekking took me to Jeremiah 28 and 29.

Jeremiah 29:11 was one of the few verses in Jeremiah that I was familiar with prior to reading it again this summer. Often we read Jeremiah 29:11 when times are changing, we're moving, or we're worried about the future. I don't know how many great graduation cards I received with this particular verse inscribed. Great verse! But we often fail to realize the full beauty of it, because we don't read it in context of the rest of the chapter. This morning, I was hit with the full context of the passage, and was honestly a bit blow away by it...

Context: Jeremiah is writing a letter to the exiles in Babylon. (Babylon= hedonistic capital of the ancient world) Some of them may have already been there for as long as 11 years. He's just told the people that only false prophets will be telling them that they're getting out soon. He tells them pretty bluntly that everything, down to the wild animals, will be in obedience to King Nebuchadnezzar... iron yoke. The letter follows a prophesying battle of epic proportions between happy-ending-soon-false-prophet-Hananiah and wearing-the-iron-yoke-prophet-of-truth-Jeremiah in chapter 28. Jeremiah = not the life of the party at the moment.

Furthermore, the story that Jeremiah tells in his letter is basically "Settle in for the long haul; you're going to be in exile for quite a long time." He tells them

• to build houses (takes a few months at least),
• to settle down (also a few months),
• to plant gardens and eat the fruits of the gardens (you plant in the early spring, and harvest in the late summer)
• to marry and be married (long term commitments)
• to find spouses for your kids (this assumes that they will grow to the age of marriage, while in captivity)
• to increase in number (babies stay in the oven for 9 months)
• to pray for the city that they're in, so that they together will prosper (in other words, you're staying for quite a while...)

And the kicker is verse 10, in which the Lord says "When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my gracious promise to bring you back to this place." Seventy years. God says wait. The average American life expectancy is about 75 years. God says wait. And then... and only then... we get to verse 11:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Yes, God does have plans to prosper us. To give us hope and a future. But what if, first, he calls us to wait? Is God the Lord of exile as well as Lord of the land of milk and honey? What if I were called to wait for 70 years for the promises which God has for me. I would be 93 years old. Would I still trust that he had plans to prosper me, to give me hope and a future?

God always answers prayers. Sometimes his answer is "yes"; sometimes it is "no"; and sometime it is "wait." He promises to bless us; to give us good gifts; and to prosper us. But sometimes, we get so caught up in the Burger-King mentality of "have it your way right now" that we miss God's blessings when they don't come immediately.

Yes, God is Lord of exile as well as Lord of promise. Even when the answer is wait, he is still answering. Even if it takes days, weeks, years. Do we believe that? Or do we read one verse, say one prayer, and sing one song, and then get angry at God for not providing our super-deluxe burger with fries order on the double?! God is not a drive-through burger-joint made-to-order cook. His promises are always perfectly timed. But they cannot be measured on our clocks.

Hidden treasures

Read these lyrics, friends. And really read them. They speak much more beautifully then I could dare hope to utter in words. Let the words touch your soul, and speak truth into your life. I found them again yesterday, after many months away...

o love that wilt not let me go
i rest my weary soul in thee
i give thee back the life i owe
that in thine oceans depths its flow
may richer, fuller be.

o light that followest all my way,
i yield my flickering torch to thee;
my heart restores its borrowed ray,
that in thy sunshine's blaze its day
may brighter, fairer be.

o joy that seekest me through pain;
i cannot close my heart to thee;
i trace the rainbow through the rain.,
and feel the promise is not vain,
that morn shall tearless be.

o cross that liftest up my head,
i dare not ask to fly from thee
i lay in dust life's glory dead,
and from the ground there blossoms red
life that shall endless be.

Antsy

So for weeks and weeks, I have been striving, longing, and working for arrival on campus. Some might even say that I was antsy for the day in which I would leave my small town, rural America, and journey to the big city in Chapel Hill, to begin work as a staff intern. Finally, this past weekend, I made the move, took the leap, stepped out in faith... wow, I should stop using commas and metaphors. But, you get the picture.

So today (I'm so proud of myself!) I navigated the necessary public transportation to get myself from my little apartment onto the big campus, less than 3 miles away, but oh so daunting.

Arriving on campus, I had no real purpose yet, save to find a comfortable spot, observe my new habitation, and dive into a book called "How People Grow." I thought that a giant tree on north campus would provide the perfect location to do said activities. So I settled myself comfortably in this giant nook that was exactly Kristen-sized, and snuggled down for a good long read-observe period. Unbeknownst to me, I had also picked the psychodelic-disco ball party-place-to-be location of the Chapel Hill population of black ants. Within about five minutes, they were dancing on my legs, arms, shirt, and oh so devestatingly, down my pants. Quite literally, I was ant-sy, with ants in my pants... and everywhere else!

Ah, the irony. For so long antsy in one way... now ant-sy in quite a different way.

Welcome to campus, Kristen! Anyone know how to remove or locate MIA black ants?

1-2-3... etc

The other day, I was hanging out with some friends, and they asked me, "What's your support?" Meaning, where are you with raising support for InterVarsity. Mingling my bad hearing and their southern drawl, I heard instead, "What's your sport?" to which I answered boldly, "Soccer! I played for 9 years." The confusion which reigned was quite amusing...

You know, when kids are about a year old, we start to teach them how to count. For a young year-old, this merely involves the parent or interested adult bending down, and saying in a sweet voice, "Wow! You're a big kid! How old are you?" and holding up the appropriate number of fingers... "You're this many!? Wow!"

As we age, we learn more intricate methods of counting, involving the inevitable succession of numbers, "Yes, twelve does come after eleven." Particularly in the young teens, we learn the phrase "almost" with regard to counting. "Yes, I am twelve, but I'm almost thirteen." ("Almost" being an interesting word, which can mean anything from 2 days to 11 months away).

When we hit sixth or seventh grade, we start to learn about these things called fractions and percentages, tricky little rascals that they are. "If Johnny's sister is 6 and Johnny is 12, what is the ratio of their two ages?" "If we have 12 apples together, and I take 3 of those, what percentage of the apples is left?" Etc.

Well, the last few months, I have been employing all of these tactics of counting:

At the beginning of the summer, I could count the dollars of my fundraising attempts on one hand.

Then slowly, we merged into consecutive numbers... "Yes, $10 does come after $5."

And dollar by dollar, we went into a percentage count, always ticking towards the magic percentage that I needed to move to campus. Sprinkled liberally with the "almost" percentages. Each week, my friends and family would ask me, "What percentage are you at now?"

One-third became one-half which became three-quarters, which became almost there....

... the suspense is killing, right?

OK, out with it! I will be moving to campus this weekend! While I still have to raise a considerable sum of money, and would continue to covet your support and prayers, I have finally reached the percentage needed to begin my year on campus at UNC-Chapel Hill!! Praise God! Assuming our apartment application goes through without problems, we'll sign the lease this week, and move on Sunday... !!! At long last, my days of counting are almost over... :-)

Praise God, it will not come down to my soccer skills. :-D

Home away from Home

You know, when I was in college, my home away from home was not my dorm room. It was not my apartment. It was my lab room in Gottwald Science Center. If you needed to find me, that is where you would need to look. Day or night, I lived in Gottwald D-pod. Alan, the security guard, and I were on a first name basis. I had my own key. The delivery guy knew where to look for me, if there were packages at the post-office for me. The only one who didn't get the memo was the parking ticket-meister, who consistently would give me parking tickets for parking outside my building. :-P

Now that I have graduated, my home away from home has changed slightly. It is not my parents' house. It is not my parents' barn (although the goat would be more than pleased to have company). No, dear friends, my home away from home is Panera.

Ah, Panera, that wonderful and delightful oasis of fresh and unlimited coffee. Bagels. Sandwiches. Soup. Bread. Free wi-fi. And music which is the same no matter the time of day or the location of the store.

No matter where I am, no matter whom I'm with, no matter what the city, I know that I can find a home in my friendly Panera:

There's the one in Clemson, South Carolina, where I spent many a pleasant hour before a friend's wedding.
There's the one by my church, with the cute orderly and the friendly businessfolk.
There's the one by Walmart that is about 40 degrees Fahrenheit even on the warmest days.
There's the one on Rt 60, where I stop for a quick coffee before hitting campus.
There's even the one in St. Louis that calls itself by a different name, but bears my familiar logo!

Now, I know what you're thinking... Panera? Really? For a coffee snob, that's not so classy, Kristen. But dearly loved, it's Panera. This is my home away from home.

If I want class, I go to a bistro.
If I want atmosphere, I go to an off-the-record coffee joint with overstuffed sofas, dim lighting, and poetry readings on the weekends.
If I want a coffee experience, I go to the place that has coffee bushes growing behind the shop.

But when I just need a few moments of sanity, a good place to do work, and a friendly cup of unlimited coffee... you will find me in Panera. No matter the freezing temperatures of overcooked air-conditioning. No matter the cleaning products which give me allergic reactions. No matter the repetitious saxaphone music playing on an eternal loop. Rain or shine, stormy or fair, you will find me in the neighborhood Panera.

In fact, you might just find me there right now....

under the hood

The other day, my sister called our mechanic to set up a routine oil change. The fellow who answered the phone had a fairly robust southern accent, easily changing some of his words into words with confused contextual meaning. Instead of hearing, "Hello, Such-and-Such Auto works, this is so-and-so speaking" she heard

"Hullo, Sach-and-Sach Ow-toe Warx, thes's God spakin'."

Ah, the possibilities of such an interchange...

Perhaps next week, I should call back to speak to God personally, no? I wonder what the responses would be if "God" wasn't available...

"I'm sorry, God is busy...

... you just can't keep that guy inside one building"
... he's cleaning up a greasy situation"
... he's working on the 'hood"
... he's changing the tires, re-treading, if you will"
... he's dealing with exhaust"
... he's changing some folks' gears"
... he's opening locked doors"
... he's fixing the brakes"
... he's doing inspections"
... he's driving someone home"
... man, he's a genius will all makes and models"
... that guy could fix anything!"

... and the list goes on and on... :-)

Generosity

I met with a woman and her ten year-old son for lunch last Thursday. I was not expecting any financial support; I was just going to share my story, and ask for prayer support. Lunch was delightful, and I really had a good time! We talked about a great many things, including InterVarsity staff, the need for college ministry, and my passion for the campus.

As I was preparing to leave, the ten year-old disappeared upstairs, saying that he "had something really important to do." He re-appeared minutes later, holding in his hands two bills and four rolls of pennies. He handed it to me, saying, "Kristen, I think it's really important what you want to do on the college campus. I think those college students need to hear about Jesus." He handed me the money, half of his life's savings...

He gave of everything that he had. These are the stones on which I stand... the stories which I get to proclaim. His is one of many. I wept because his generosity and his heart were so beautiful. And they put mine to shame...

Those pennies sit on my desk now, as a daily reminder that even when I feel that I have nothing left to give-- time, money, energy, resources, myself-- God has blessed me abundantly, and there is always enough give. My cup is never empty.

Mark 12: 41-44

"Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on."

sinner, poor, wretched, blind; seriously?

I have been reminded over and over again, as of late, of my own sin and need of grace. And the incredible riches which God freely gives, and I can only receive. I do not deny that God has given me gifts, and that He has equipped me to share His love. But in the most base way, I often confuse His gifts to me, as my own independent abilities and self-sufficiency outside of him. I forget my own sinful nature. I claim self-righteousness; self-atonement; self-justification. I found this poem last night, and was struck yet again, of how often I forget the depth of God's grace for me, as I simplify my own sinfulness and "sanitize" it into "not so bad." Read it in light of the wealth of God's grace....

grace, grace, God's grace, given freely
all for me, sinner, poor wretched, blind.

wretched? blind? poor? needy?
me?
seriously?
start from the end, rewind it back...
needy? well, sure i got needs
to eat, to sleep, to breath, to drink
but needy, what does that mean?
can't provide for myself, must depend on others
foreign. strange. true?
i got needs that i cannot fill?
love? community? unity? laughter?
self-reliance indestructible
first thing you gotta do is admit
yes, i have needs; i cannot fill.

poor? certainly not rich, not sure in the sticks.
i got clothes on my back, food to eat
family to love, truth to share
gifts to offer, sure
only
you see, everything's a little bit broken.
my family intact but broken,
food plenty, but my soul still hungerin'
ain't nothing to fill that hole.
and truth to share, but it's never enough
no matter how much, still pain
i cannot heal.
and my gifts, well they're a little bit
broken too; lots of holes, gaps.
like the knees of my jeans, worn through
never enough.
i reckon I'll never make enough, be enough
to cover the cost of the cross to fill 'em up.

yet but certainly not blind.
my vision's just fine, see
all around me, people mingling
happy, sad, joyful, mourning, needy.
needy, even I know what to do.
food? water, bandages, aid?
i can do.
oh wait? their souls? something more?
here, neighbor, let me fix your lens.
see, i think you're missing Jesus.
me, why yes, my lucky rabbit food
and Jesus right beside?
my eye, you say? oh, no need.
i see quite well around my blinders.
see the people like Jesus does?
let alone see Jesus' love for me?
not quite so 20-20.

ah, then if this refrain is true thus far,
then the last part first I have no doubt
is true:
for if indeed i am needy, poor, blind
then indeed i am wretched. sinner.
for all along i masquerade
as able, wealthy, seeing
all the while, shunning my Savior.
ah, woe is me. i am despised.
yet
in my place, He stands, hands outstretched:

"Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden
for I have rest for your souls...
I have come not to save the saint, but the sinner."

only by grace can we enter. only by grace can we stand.

-- anonymous

prayer for every day

Father, today I am poor in spirit.
Today I forgot who was God.

I considered myself and my passions and needs of greater worth than you.
I said one thing, but did another.
I even considered my work for YOU to be of greater importance than you yourself.
I was distracted by small things, myself included.
And most of all, I forgot to say thank you for everything you have done and are doing.
Possibly because I wasn't looking for your blessings; I was too busy complaining about your timing, your methods, and how much better I would be at managing the world, if I were God.

I was outwardly pious, but inwardly impoverished.
Please show me your kingdom.
I have no wealth of my own to offer, save your blood, and my salvation therein.
Show me your kingdom. My hands are empty and I bring nothing of my own to the table.
I am hungry, Lord.
I am poor in spirit.
And while it hurts to say those words, I know their truth.
Show me your kingdom. For it is built by your hands, not mine.
Use me as your tool.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God." Matt. 5:3

the seventh food group

Have you ever bitten into something, and been entirely surprised by its taste or flavor?

Well, two days ago, I experienced that horrible sensation. Kids don't try this at home. Innocently licking what I thought was a dab of Shepherd's pie off my finger, I was met with the cruel realization that what I was tasting on my tongue was not indeed the rich and flavorful taste of the pie, but rather, dish soap that I had accidentally dripped on my finger. Please don't ask how I mistook the one for the other, but regardless, I did.

To make matters worse, as I went running to the bathroom, gagging, to wash that horrible taste out of my mouth, my mind did not function sufficiently quickly to realize the implications of placing water on the liquid disgusting-ness. The moment the water, intended to clean out the taste, hit the liquid soap, my mouth was filled with bubbles and suds. Quite literally, my little tasting mistake led to an almost rabid foaming at the mouth. While certainly an amusing picture to the observer (my sister), it was not an experience that I particularly enjoyed. Even as I type this, I can still taste the rather unpleasant flavor of Dawn.

Now, soap is an amazing thing. I'm still wondering who the genius was that looked at soapstone and thought "hmm, let me wash things with this stone." Without soap, we would not be able to clean clothes, dishes, floors, ourselves, or any number of other things. Diseases would spread much more rapidly. Dirty locations would be much more prevalent. And people, let's face it, would smell much worse. Soap is a wonderful thing, with many useful purposes. But those purposes and uses do not include ingesting it. Same thing with other good things in our lives. They have appropriate uses, times, and purposes, and when they are used in unintended ways or times, they fail to have the same beneficial effects. In fact, they can have devastating effects. Let me give you a couple of examples:

• Painkillers, as an addictive drug, rather than to deal with legitimate physical pain
• Sex, outside of the marriage context
• Words, when used to abuse or hurt or defame
• Money, when it is allowed to govern our lives, rather than provide for our needs and those of others
• Food, when it is over or under consumed
• Exercise, when it is over or under practiced
• Security, when it becomes an excuse not to follow as God calls us out of our comfort zones
• Relationships, when they start to take the place of God in our lives

All of these things, in and of themselves, are not bad. In fact, they're great things and gifts from God! But used out of proper context, they have nasty effects. Same as eating soap. Good thing. Not used effectively. So too, in the way that I can still taste the bubbles, often the effects are longer lasting than just in the moment...

Lesson of the day: Don't eat soap. Use God's gifts in proper context.

God's breath

When I returned to NC, I returned to my temporary cat, Marusia. I say temporary because really she belongs to someone else, and I am just long-term cat-sitting. Regardless, Marusia loves to be close to humans. I found this out experimentally when I tried to sleep in the same room with her. Middle of the night, I woke up to the sensation that I couldn't really breathe. Fur seemed to be occupying my breathing apparatus. While I did at one point in time hope to grow a beard, the fur was rather misplaced for that to have occurred. Rather, I discovered that the cat had relocated herself onto my face. The nearest conclusion that I can draw is that she has some comfort in feeling my breath, quite literally, upon her. She wants to get as close as she can to me, and quite literally does not feel secure unless she is sleeping on top of my face.

While this can be quite annoying for the sleeper, I think it demonstrates (certainly) a unique image of our hunger in various degrees for God. As believers, we want the kind of life that comes from having his breath upon us (quite literally, we were brought into human being when God breathed into Adam's nostrils with the breath of life). Yet some of us are content to lie, metaphorically speaking, at the edge of the bed, a safe distance from God, but close enough that we can still experience part of the life that He intended for us. Others dwell on the floor because we feel "unworthy" to dwell in God's presence, or because we don't feel the need to be close to God. Yet still others so passionately desire to be in God's presence, that they get as close to him as they possibly can because they desperately need to be in his presence in order to live fully. Unlike my relationship with Marusia, God never stops breathing on us, when we try to get too close to him. Rather, he invites us to dwell in his presence. He delights to have us dwell in his presence. He wants to be known. He wants to know us. We are designed to be in relationship with Him, and it is this relationship with Him that gives life and breath. So bask. Get as close as you can. Rest! and hang-out!

Be thou my vision?

Wednesday morning is my hiatus in the midst of a crazy week. Every Wednesday morning, about 20 people from my church get together to pray. To spend time with God. To worship. And I love it. I always leave feeling blessed by the experience. These are women and men who delight to spend time in the Father's presence. And it is absolutely beautiful. This morning, however, I came in feeling empty. Feeling burdened, and overwhelmed by the things I had to do, the amount of money I had to raise, and my own doubts and fears about everything relating to myself, my image, and my faith. We sang "Be Thou My Vision," which I know by heart, and have sung for years, but never before I have I been struck by the words in such a way as I was this morning. The fourth and fifth verses go....

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,

... no matter where I am in fundraising, no matter what my professors think of my "career aspirations," no matter how I am criticized or judged for "throwing away my life", no matter how I am praised for doing something "worthwhile" or "fantastic" or "which I wish my child was doing," I'm not paying any attention to that. It doesn't matter any more. Words of praise and riches are not what matters to me.

Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:

... you are my only concern, now and forever. You are what I am hoping for. You are all that I need. You define my identity.

Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,

... you and you only are what I want, love, long for. I leave everything else behind. You are first and foremost in my heart. Every other desire is behind you.

High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

... you are King. You are God. You are in heaven. You are my treasure. Not my name. Not my reputation. Not the ability to serve you on campus. Not my visions for where I can take your name. Certainly not these funds that I am trying to raise. You, God, are my treasure.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,

... the big Kahuna. God of heaven. You are my victory won. The victory is already won. No matter how I screw up, no matter how many times I fail, you do not. You have already won the battle. Sin and evil are defeated. And one day, we will see that on earth. The battle is won. My victory is certain, because He is King of heaven. He is my victory, not what I do.

May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!

... I'm longing for heaven, God, who gives light and warmth and beauty and life even to heaven.

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,

... you know my heart. And your heart is part of my heart, as I slowly learn more about what your heart is, and listen to you voice. Please let my desires become more and more like yours. Whatever happens to me, whatever happens in the world, whether or not I reach budget, whether or not I reach campus, whether or not I am able to serve you in the way that I think you are calling me...

Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

... Lord, please be my vision. Direct me in the ways that you want me to go. Be what I see, as I look at the world. Help me to see with your eyes. Show me how you see things. Let me always keep my eyes fixed on you. Like Peter, Lord, don't let me take my eyes off you, or I will sink. Lord, you are ruler of all, including me. I submit my life to that. And knowing your goodness, ask that you take over once again. You are God. I am not. Please direct my life.