Pray for SPU

Someone opened fire on my campus.  

I grieve.

For the death of Paul Lee.

That my people have to face this tragedy.

I am angry.

At the shooter who killed Paul Lee and injured Sarah Williams and Thomas Fowler. 

At my society that produced this person.

I am grateful.

For John Meis, who took decisive action.

For the strength of my community as we support each other.

I chose to come to SPU after discovering my Grandma had a terminal illness.  I hoped that when tragedy struck I would be in a loving community.

Now, we collectively walk through the valley of the shadow of death. The truth of who we are is obvious.  In every building, on every lawn I see people being Christ to each other and I am proud to be here.


I pray.

For everyone grieving the loss of Paul Lee.

For the full healing of Sarah Williams and Thomas Fowler.

For the redemption of Otto Miller Hall.

For wisdom for the leaders who make the hard decisions as we move forward.

For grace and justice for the shooter and his family.  

For all unspoken prayers only my heart can say.

For grief to happen.

For peace to be felt.

For us all to find forgiveness.

I stand.

On the thresholds of my campus and declare that evil will not have the final word here.

In confidence that our God reigns.



Click here to support the victims and their families through SPU's "Rise Above" fund.

The Misnamed Trio

And suddenly, in a flash, I could relate to the three men in the fiery furnace. 

You probably know them as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, though their mother's refer to them as Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah, but almost nobody knows that now. 

Here is what I used to think: King Nebuchadnezzar--let's call him Rupert--crafted an idol of himself and demanded everyone bow down to worship it.  The Misnamed Trio refused, because they only bow down to God. Rupert threw them into a furnace that burned so hot, the guards who threw them in died (my Sunday school teacher's always emphasized that).  But suddenly, Rupert saw FOUR people in the furnace, and one was super shiny.  He told the men to exit the furnace and realized they served the real God because even their eyebrows were still in tact.

If you have ever run the propane too long before starting the barbecue, you know how easy it is to lose your eyebrows.

I always thought this meant I should never bow down to a big golden statue.  And if someone tried to throw me into a furnace, God wouldn't let me die.

Then - something changed.  Like a crack of lightening (in the middle of a prayer meeting) I related to Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. 

These were three guys who loved Jesus.  Then Rupert, the most powerful worldly force around, (Daniel 2:26-40) tells them to worship his statue.  They refuse.  They are persecuted.  God shows up.  Amazing.

I ask myself; what is Rupert telling me to worship above all else?  What does the world say I should dedicate the majority of my time and attention to?  

Myself.  

And I do.

I am a proud person.  I was afraid of praying for humility for a long time because God would probably make me look like a fool.  I couldn't risk what the lover of my soul might do to me if I became vulnerable like that.

Then I talked to Pastor Bonnie, who is so wise.  Humility, she said, is realizing it is not all about you.

Game changer. 

I can absolutely live a life that is not all about me.  I think.

I reject Rupert's plans for my time and attention.  I'm going to mess up.  Now you know and that could be good or bad.  Though since it isn't all about me, you may not even consider it once the post is over.

It is going to be rough, but God will show up.  And I will come out of this with my eyebrows fully intact.

Please Jesus, let me keep my eyebrows.

Not the Best?

This post in honor of "Butter my Biscuits," a long-standing camp volunteer with a very different name he uses in real life. He suggested the idea of "Beta Man," who doesn't see the need to give 110% all the time.

"Try your best."

Teachers, parents, posters, notebooks, greeting cards, and advertisements all encouraging the same mode of operation: your best.

My best self is friendly to everyone, parallel parks successfully on the first try, and cooks the bacon to perfect crispness every single time.

My best self socializes well, always does her homework before midnight, and never drips marinara sauce on her mint capris.

My best self is an excellent communicator, wakes up without the snooze button, and daily eats a proper serving of fruits and vegetables.

My best self is not me.

I tried to be my best self for a while.  Then I got tired of always trying, and reverted to "real me." Real Me has thoughts, feelings, and needs that ruin the Best Self image.  To say the very least, Real Me has marinara sauce on my mint capris.*

That isn't to say that I am no good.  I am, in fact, glorious.  The Ultimate Creator crafted me from the salt of the earth with the tips of his fingers; how could I be less than remarkable?

So - is "best" what we are really supposed to strive for?  Nope.  I think we should shoot for "genuine." The True Self.

My True Self usually needs to shimmy the car three or four times before I successfully wiggle into a parallel parking spot. But does that really matter?

Being your True Self is not an excuse to let all your selfish tendencies run wild.  Nope.  True Self is about embracing who you were created to be.

I was not created to skip class and turn in my papers late.  I was created to glorify My Maker.

And since My Maker said to go to college, stay in college, and take an extra year, than I had better do it to the best of my ability.



Shoot.  Usually, by the end of these things I feel like I've figured something out, but there I'm still trying to be "the best."

Dear Jesus,
What exactly should I be thinking about this now? Please help.
Amen.


*I inexplicably find myself eating spaghetti every time I wear my mint capris.

Why College?

Deborah Rodriguez was a beautician living in Michigan. Dissatisfied with her life, she joined an aid team going to Afghanistan.

The rest of her team - Doctors, dentists, and nurses - had obvious parts to play.  But what could a hair dresser possibly do?

As her book, Kabul Beauty School tells, she could do a whole lot. Sharing her skills, she taught classes of women how to do hair, nails, and make up. With these skills, the women provided for their families and earned positions of respect in their households and communities.

With the technical skills of a hair dresser she turned around the lives of hundreds of women.

When I was in Haiti, I met an American woman who went to Haiti to pour concrete.  While she was there, the Haitians asked her if she could teach some kids.

And when I met her, she had been teaching for the last two years with no plans to quit. A high school diploma plus construction experience, and she was doing important work in a place that needed her.

I went to High School Camp a few weeks back, and a speaker came who had traveled the world with YWAM.  22 countries, 6 years, and who knows how many lives changed for Jesus?  He just graduated High School and started going.

So - what the heck am I going to college for?

I really just want to help people, but is college making me over qualified?  I mean, what good is a communications and sociology degree to people who need to learn to make a living?

Or maybe the opposite is true: maybe I'm under qualified.  I don't know anything useful to anyone.

I've been wandering the whirlwind of options for life after graduation: Haiti, , Fulbright, Peace Corps, Masters Degree, Kenya, Masters Degree and Peace Corps, Fiji, Teach for America, DTS, Starbucks Barista...and I can't help but wonder why all of this "education" is going to matter.  

If I wasn't so certain God wanted me in college, I'd be out of here in a heartbeat. But God's got a better plan. I'll try hard to be patient and wait.

Memoirs of a Newbie: High School Camp

I have never worked with high school students before.  Spending a week as a cabin leader this August was like learning a foreign language when you're already in the country, with a broken jaw.

My eight girls arrived Monday afternoon.  I woke up Tuesday morning and groaned, thinking: I'm still here! 

Lesson #1: Always seek advice from people who have been there before.  

Ten minutes of conversation with a 8-year cabin leader veteran told me everything I did wrong the day before. Mentality corrected, I lead the worst morning devotions ever.

Lesson #2: Never stop praying.

So, I started praying.  I prayed during lunch. I prayed during the all-camp game. I prayed while swimming. I prayed during dinner. I prayed during worship, hearing the burdens of some of my precious girls.

Breakthrough.

God took Rachel, Rachel's problems, and Rachel's emotions and set them aside.  When my strong girls broke and their hurt leaked out, my empty space soaked it up.  Helpless, hurting, we waited for Jesus. 

Lesson #3: The Holy Spirit will always come.

Tumbling from my lips in the shape of words, God came to bring hope. 

And the hurt siphoned away. And peace came.  

And for the rest of the week, I prayed.

Except Thursday.  Thursday I spent the afternoon swing dancing and playing on lake toys with a group of people only to happy to make sure I had a marvelous time. 

Lesson #4: God likes to have fun too.

My initial terror gave way, and I had a fantastic week.  No, I am not proficient in grades 9-12.  But God will always be around to build bridges across language gaps, and all will be well for it.

Insatiable

That bigger and better we all long for

That feeling I've always wanted

The ultimate sense of happiness, peace, joy, belonging--

I wont find it here.

It is eternity tugging at my heart

Pulling my soul from its deepest roots

Stirring the depths of every human

"He has also sent eternity in the hearts of men." (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

That deep, insatiable yearning

will not be met here.

Yet, I will not despair.

I rest in faith stronger than hope.

Eternity will come.

I know I will be satisfied.

The Gamble

"Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and unite the cord of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—When you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.  Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.  “If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you spend yourselves on behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.  The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and strengthen your frame.  You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.”

Isaiah 58:6-11 (NIV)

I have underlined this passage in my bible again and again.  I read the words and think of my beautiful Haiti girls, my Mexico babies and the hundreds of women and children on the streets and in brothels I have only met through the pages of my books. These are the oppressed people I feel called to set free!

Then I realize how limiting that is!  The passage says to feed the hungry.  It does not say to feed the hungry people who are in an economically worse situation than you.  It says to clothe the naked. It does not say to clothe the naked who shop at Goodwill more often than you do.

Everyone says to eat your food, because there are starving children in Africa.  What about the starving children in Seattle?  

What about my classmate with uncomfortably worn out shoes?

What about the people I see every day, oppressed by a racist, sexist system?

They need me too.

I know, that sounds like a lot of people.  1 in 4 children in Washington are at risk of hunger, according to Food Lifeline.   

How can one person given enough to feed them all?

Before you fall into the depths of inadequacy and despair, remember the rest of the passage.

After this call to action, there is a promise!

If we do these things, we will be healed!  

If we do these things, God will answer our cry! 

Our light will rise, night will be like noonday and – my personal favorite – “[The Lord] will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land.” 

How amazing would it be to feel satisfied? 

Not satisfaction from sitting in the lush green of nature with the sun caressing your face and the wind just barely lifting your hair, with the taste of bacon on your tongue and a Jane Austen novel in your hand.

Nothing like that.

Satisfaction in a place where none of this exists.  Satisfaction in a sun-scorched land where the only water is the perspiration on your brow caked with the dry dust that floats chokes your nostrils with every step.  

Satisfaction in that place of utter lack and desolation.   

I think we do not give because are afraid of that place.  

“If I clothe all the naked, what will I have left to wear?”  Well, should you reach a point of having no clothes, do not worry about it.  

You have reached the sun-scorched land and you are satisfied.  Having given so completely you will have reached a point where what you have simply does not matter anymore.

It is a risk; to give until you have no more.  You might end up with nothing, but according to this passage, it will not matter.  You will be satisfied.

Will you take that gamble?

Light and Shadows

The shadow of death.

An image described with every recitation of the 23rd Psalms, but how many of us really think about what it means?

The shadow of death.

Death ahead, death behind, blocking the sun with its mammoth frame.

The feeling:

Like metal on your teeth.

Like a vice wrapped with waiting to squeeze your throat.

But then, a light.

Not the dull glimmer of a dying ember.

Not the weak beam of a flashlight in need of new batteries.

A bright light.

A great light.

Like a light house standing proud.

Like a baby growing inside its mother.

Like the glow of a bride walking the aisle to meet her groom.  White dress rustling, hair alight with the pleasure of the family she passes, all pleased with the union.

The music swells with joyous epiphany.

Sweet vanilla fills the air.

Glorious.

Dark is the absence of light.

Peace is not the absence of weeping.

The Prince of Peace wept.

God does not say no more distress.

He says no more gloom for those in distress.

Just glorious light.

1 Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will honor Galilee of the nations, by the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan—

² The people walking in darkness
    have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
    a light has dawned.

Isaiah 9:1-2

Inadequacy is Irrelevant

Grief.

It is as though a wild beast tears a chunk of flesh from your arm, leaving muscles, nerves, and blood vessels exposed to the world and it hurts.  It hurts to look at.  It hurts to touch.  It hurts when it comes into contact with air.

It is a place where all you feel is pain.  There is no option but to dwell in the sadness.

This is where Mary Magdalene, James's Mom and Salome found themselves.  The man they had called Teacher and Master, who they had voluntarily served, who they had dedicated their lives to, who spoke the words that touched their very souls, died.

Gone.

Forever.

They went to Jesus's tomb, so distracted by grief they did not plan for the mammoth stone that would prevent them from reaching their goal. Only after they had almost arrived did they realize they could not accomplish their task alone.

Tearfully, they reached their teacher's resting place and saw their inadequacy did not matter.

The stone had been rolled away.

It did not matter what they could not do, because the Lord did it for them.

Their inadequacy was irrelevant.

The task was complete.

The most permanent thing had been reversed, the most impossible thing accomplished.

Jesus had risen!

And he did it without the help of anyone.

Dear Jesus,

I thank you that nothing I can or cannot do matters. My failures do not matter.  My poor planning does not matter.  My weaknesses do not matter.  Thank you that everything is covered by your grace.  Thank you for using me for your glory anyway.

I love you.

Amen.

When the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. ² And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. ³ And they were saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?” ⁴ And looking up, they saw that the stone had been rolled back—it was very large. ⁵ And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe, and they were alarmed. ⁶ And he said to them, “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen; he is not here. See the place where they laid him.

 Mark 16: 1-6

Haiti: The Beginnings

Eight days of Spring Break 2012, I spent in Haiti.

The journey started back in February, when my Tacoma church, Puget Sound Christian Center, announced the missions trip to the congregation.  Ignite Campus Ministry at Pacific Lutheran University would be taking a group of Lutes to Haiti., led by Dan Donohoe.  They had a few spots open, if anyone else felt called to join them.

My Mom put my name on the list for an application.

It is true, I have felt called to go to Haiti for a year or two.  I had tried to go on several trips before, but God always closed those doors and pointed me in a different direction.  Torn between my Mom’s approval and God’s previous “no,” I sat down to discern if I ought to apply.  Immediately, God directed me to Isaiah 61:1-4.

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
A planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.”

Without a doubt, I knew God had called me to go to Haiti, a country of poor, despairing hearts, people who mourn, trapped in darkness.  I needed to go to Haiti and spread any gladness that I could muster.

“Gladness” hadn’t really been my strong suit.  Ever since my Grandma passed away last July, my default emotion has been anything but glad.  There have been laughs and smiles and pleasant memories, but mostly just sadness.  One of my most constant sources of love could only hug me if I wrapped myself tightly in the quilt she sewed, and that can never compare.  Even so, my Mom shared how this passage fit me too.  Perhaps God intended for me to fine a crown of beauty for my ashes while I worked in Haiti.  Confident in my call, I applied and prepared to leave.

The day before my first Haiti meeting I started to panic.  I would be missing two or three days of school, I had to get shots, I had to raise almost two thousand dollars in a little over a month, and I did not know any of the people I would be traveling with!  I asked God, “Are you sure about this?”  Then, one of the first things Dan said at the meeting, “Isaiah 61:1-4 is kind of our verse for the trip.”  My insides danced with glee. 

God most certainly called me to Haiti.

Two weeks later, at a team potluck, Lisa started singing Les Miserables.  I joined half the team in a rousing chorus of One Day More.

God most certainly called me to Haiti with these people.

I asked God how I should pay for the trip.  He told me I should contribute a specific amount out of pocket.  He has paid for nearly all of my school and still given me a job.  I could afford it. 

For two weeks I asked if he really meant it. Finally, I took the leap and paid the amount out of pocket.  By the end of the week, somebody offered to cover all of the rest of my costs.

God most certainly had everything under control.

March 22^nd rolled around and, despite feeling utterly convinced I would catch a tropical disease and die, be bitten by an eighteen foot long venomous snake, or loose my left leg in a politically motivated pipe bomb explosion, I went to bed ready to go to Haiti.

Journey

Only in Washington does one go to the beach dressed ready for the next snowpocalypse.

Rain jacket, hoodie, columbia fleece, and a scarf wrapped across my forehead, over my ears, around my neck and tied under my chin.

I trekked along the water, wind blistering my face.  Three times the hail stung my nose and bounced off my glasses.  I pulled logs across the sand to build bridges where little rivers connected to the ocean, too wide to jump across.  Remarkably, my socks stayed dry even as I dashed away from the waves rushing towards the shore.

I walked and walked and walked.  Then I realized I was at my beach with my family, and they were probably starting to wonder where I went.  I turned around and walked back, leaping over puddles, praying the cars who drove across the sand would see me, because with the scarf tied around my head, I could not hear them.

As I walked along the path, crossing the sand dunes and entered the little town of Pacific Beach once more, I stopped short of the coffee shop at the rainbow looming in the sky.

Most rainbows I've see are multi-color streaks, shooting into the air.  This rainbow was almost a complete arch, stretching across the sky.  I could see the beginning and the end, but the part in the middle was somewhat hazy.

I found it somewhat applicable to my life.  I know where I am, and I sort of know where I am going, but that part in the middle - the part where everything happens - it's still a bit hazy.

Dear Jesus, I pray that you would give me just enough rainbow, just enough road, just enough direction, so I can keep stepping forward. Help my plan oriented self be satisfied with that.

I love you,

Amen.

Center

Dear Jesus,

I would like you to be in the middle of everything I do.

That's right, everything.  All that I think about every single moment.

Oh, but I do need to think about school still.  I've gotta read that textbook, so maybe I'll get to my bible later.  I have to get good grades after all.

And work of course.  I really don't see how I could think about you and purchase orders at the same time.  And since I have to buy myself food, I need to keep my job.

When I'm writing for the newspaper I just don't see how you'd fit.  I mean, what do you have to do with the haunted house?  No connection, so don't bother.

Then there is the prayer ministry.  You should be part of that too, just don't keep me from getting those e-mails sent.

Relationships...well, do I really just want to sit and pray with people all the time?  That doesn't seem like very much fun.  And if all we talk about is you, won't we run out of things to say?

When I'm trying to sleep, just let me sleep.  Don't bother me with deep thoughts because I'm tired.

I mean really, I've become a certain kind of person.  People expect particular things from me.  Don't screw that up.

So, be my center, just don't get in my way, okay?

You're the best!

Wait...

It breaks my heart to see this about myself.  I may not consciously make those choices, but really, what does my schedule show?

Jesus, I'm not even sure I have a center right now.  Teach me to put my focus on you.

Thanks,

-Rachel

Hole in my Heart

My Grandma passed away today. 

The past few days my entire family has been staying at her house, helping my Grandpa take care of her.  I've spent most of my time sitting on the stool next to her hospital bed, or across the living room reading a book in the recliner. A lot of the time she simpy laid in bed with her eyes closed, and was usually asleep. Sometimes, I would hear her praying.  I would sit next to her, perhaps holding her frail hand, and pray too.

When she lay in bed yesterday we had one of her favorite worship CDs playing.  With her weak, air-hungry breaths she sang to Jesus:  "I exalt thee.  I exalt thee.  I exalt thee, ooh Lord!"  With my young, healthy lungs, I quietly sang with her. 

Even after she could barely scrape together a cognizant thought, she kept talking to Jesus, leaning on Jesus, begging Jesus to come.  She was tired and living between her doses of pain killer.  Every two hours we turned her from one side to another, to reduce pressure on the bed sores that already added to her discomfort.  Even when she was asleep the pain could be clearly seen on her face as we carefully turned her over.

We took shifts staying up with her at night, so Grandpa could get the optimum amount of sleep. My shift came between 3 am and 5 am. I laid on the floor next to her bed with my bible and notebook at hand.  I flipped through the Psalms, re-reading the underlined verses that had always brought me comfort.  "The Lord is with the broken hearted, he saves those who are crushed in Spirit."  Psalms 18 talks about God coming down in all of his fury to defend those he loves, before he teaches me to "bend a bow of bronze."  I spent a long time praying to Jesus, asking for peace for all of my family. 

At 5 am it came time to turn her again.  Grandpa came downstairs to help before his shift.  The previous evening, Grandma still looked pretty okay, considering what her body had been through.  She opened her eyes as we turned her. I looked into her face and knew she could not see me.  The end was very near.  With that thought, I climbed back into bed.

4 hours and twenty minutes later, I was woken up by my little sister, telling me that Grandma had stopped blinking.  Mom rushed upstairs shortly after, saying Grandma only had minutes left.  We came downstairs to witness her last breath.

 I sat next to her, looking at her previous face.  Just yesterday, I had watched her from the recliner, seeing her blue eyes sparkle when she smiled at me.  My Grandma was so beautiful. 

I miss her truly, deeply.  As I sat with her yesterday, I read "Heaven is so Real,"  the story of a boy named Colten who visited heaven during a surgery, and how he told his parent's about it afterwards.  He told them that the first person you see when you get to heaven is Jesus.  All I could think about this morning was how my Grandma was finally talking to Jesus, who she had been waiting to see for a very long time.  I know she is up there now, probably intermittently praying for us and worshiping her Lord. 

I miss her a lot.  She was very dear to me.  I'd appreciate prayers for my family as we work through this time. 

I'm so glad she is in heaven, free at last from her disease, but I am so sad to think I wont be able to see her smiling face until Jesus calls me home, which I imagine will be a long time from now.  There is definitely a hole in my heart.  Luckily, I know that, with time, Jesus will fill it up and make it stop hurting.  I must continue to try and lean on him.

Clueless

I have no idea why I am going to Europe.

I am not saying I do not want to, but I really don't understand why!

Why would I leave the country when I feel like I have so much to contribute here?  Why should I spend extra money traveling the world, when I really should be cutting costs and saving money?  Why am I taking classes that do not seem to relate to my life calling? Why would God put me in this situation? Why, why why?

I do not know.

"...in the same way, no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God." -1 Corinthian 2:11b

Once again, I am left walking where towards the coordinates God has set for me, without any idea why.

To all who read this; if you ever catch me doubting if I should be going to/in Europe, remind me that I am a donkey.

Relinquish, the prayer ministry I am the administrative assistant for, hosted an event called Encounter Night: a chance for students to encounter God.  One room was set apart for private conversations with God, while some one led acoustic worship.  I sat in that room and told God all the reasons I should not go to Europe.  He directed me to Job 38.

Do you know that song, "Who has told every lightening bolt where it should go?  Or seen heavenly storehouses laden with snow?"  As I read those words (Job 38:22), the worship leader was singing them. Apparently, God really wanted to get my attention, so I kept reading.

Job 39:5-8 says this:

"Who let the wild donkey go free?  Who untied his ropes?  I gave him the wasteland as his home, the salt flats as his habitat. He laughs at the commotion in the town; he does not hear a driver's shout.  He ranges the hills for his pasture, and searches for any green thing."

I thought to myself, "How cool God!  You care enough for a donkey, a mere beast of burden, to give him a chance to enjoy himself!"  Then it dawned on me.  I am a donkey.  God has untied my ropes so I can wander France, Italy, and Switzerland without worrying about the things going on at home!

Granted, the things happening at home are likely to weigh heavily on my mind, but God will not make it any harder than I can handle.  He has instructed me to laugh and enjoy myself. 

Therefore, when I ask you why God would send me to Europe at a time like this, tell me I am a donkey, (which, ironically enough, is also called an ass) and God told me to go enjoy myself.  With any luck, that will squelch the doubts bubbling from my throat and remind me that God knows what he is doing, even if I am not permitted to understand it all. 

With any luck, I'll remember to thank you.  If I bite off your head instead, please forgive me; I'll try my best to be graceful.

Perspective

When I am not at school, I am a bible seller.

I sell all sorts of Christian things really: books, music, figurines, plaques, church supplies, and even corny t-shirts.  But they aren't important right now.

What matters are the conversations I had with several customers about using multiple versions of the bible.

The bible was written by many people a very long time ago, in Greek and Hebrew.  Not English.  But, since the majority of the world does not read Greek or Hebrew, the bible has been translated into just about every language on the planet so that it can be read by everyone.

When something is being translated, there are different ways to interpret the original text.  This is why there are different translations to the bible.  Each is written from a different perspective.  That is why I think they are all very important.

Let me explain.

Imagine a sculpture.  It is utterly amazing, and you want to take a picture to share with your family.  Sadly, you have just one picture left on your camera.  So, you pick the best perspective you can find, snap a shot, and display it proudly.

Your friend Joe looks at the same sculpture, and wants to take a picture.  Unfortunately, he too has only one shot left on his camera.  So, he picks what he thinks the best perspective is, and takes a picture, again displaying it for all to see.

Susie likes the sculpture too.  She wants a picture too, but has the same problem.  She can only take one, but she takes it from her favorite perspective for all to see.

You, Joe, and Susie each have a photo showing one side, one viewpoint of the same sculpture.  Each is true, each is equally valid, but none can create a complete rendering of the sculpture in the minds of people who cannot see the sculpture for themselves. But, when all three pictures are seen together, Mary, who has never seen the sculpture, is able to imagine a more complete idea of what this sculpture looks like.

The more perspectives there are, the more complete the sculpture becomes.  In the same way, the more bible translations one reads, the better understanding they can get of what the original text says.

(Side Note: I'm not saying that every single translation of the bible is certainly valid.  Not every person on the planet is qualified to translate Greek and Hebrew into English, the same way almost anyone can take a picture.)

For this reason, I own an NLT, ESV, NRSV, NIV, and part of The Message bible.  For that reason too, I have all of them currently open to Jeremiah 1:17, to try and understand exactly what God means there.

I think, that with these multiple perspectives, I can better understand the beautiful wisdom in the book God has given us.

P.S. This same concept was applied in my Global and Urban Ministries class, but with an emphasis on cultural perspectives as opposed to bible translations.  Regardless, I think it applies.

Wait.

If there is anything I don't like about being a Christian, it is waiting for God. 

It is miserable.

I pray and pray for something to change, and nothing happens. I ask why he would put me through this.  And he says, "Trust me.  Keep waiting."

The spiritual side of me meekly responds, "Yes, God.  I know you know what you are doing, and I will keep waiting for you to do what you are going to do."

Everything else in me looks for ways to make it happen.

I am not supposed to do that.

Isaiah 40:30-31 says, "Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." (NIV)

Soaring like an eagle sounds great and all, but, considering the human inability to fly without the aid of a machine, is impossible.  Why should I wait for something when I don't know what it is going to be?

Luckily, my ESV reference bible helps put the eagle idea into perspective. 

Exodus tells the story of the enslaved Isrealites leaving their captors and heading towards freedom.  In chapter 19 Moses is on Mount Sinai talking to God.  God says,

"(4)You yourselves have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles' wings and brought you to myself.  (5) Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is mine..."

The Isrealites had a horrible life in Egypt. They had been stuck in slavery for hundreds of years, and were treated as horrible as you can imagine.  Then, God destroyed the Egyptians (see Exodus 7-11 for a complete description of the plagues on Egypt) and carried his people on "eagles' wings" to a place where they would be God's "treasured possession."  I don't know about you, but my "treasured possessions" are kept in safe, dry places, wrapped in socks and carefully stored, or displayed where everyone can admire their splendor. 

I think I feel God treasuring me most when I am doing his will, and sometimes that means waiting for something that seems painfully urgent.

One last note: Nate Boyt spoke at Puget Sound Christian Center last Sunday (January 2nd, 2011).  He pointed out that waiting on the Lord means soaring on eagle's wings.  No flapping, no fuss, no making-something-happen.  Simply outstretched arms trusting God to carry me where I need to go.

My goal?  No more flapping, no more scheduling miracles, and plenty of time enjoying life as a treasured possession.

P.S. As of this posting, Nate's sermon is not yet available. But I am sure that in the future it will be posted here, should you like to listen to it.  Stuff I learned in journalism class makes me feel like I should do this.

Faith, Trust, and...Pixie Dust?

Trust.

It seems to be a problem of mine, or else Jesus wouldn't bring it up so often.

"As the scripture says, 'Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame.'" Romans 10:11

I'm terrified to say everything is going to be all right.  I believe Jesus told me so, but what if I say it and it doesn't actually happen?  Does that mean my faith is smaller than a mustard seed, because I'm facing a mountain and it doesn't seem to be moving so much?

How big is faith like a mustard seed anyway?

They say that if you have enough faith to ask some one if they need prayer, you have faith at least as big as a mustard seed.  The mountain you pray for will be moved.

I have faith to pray for this situation. 

God said it will happen, but it hasn't yet.  Now I have to trust. 

The bible says to trust with "all your heart."  How do I trust with all my heart when my heart is aching because the very thing that I'm praying for is ripping it apart?

I simply need to remember I wont be put to shame.  I wont be embarrassed, or teased, laughed at or ridiculed.  I just need to trust.

Wouldn't it be easier if everyone I know with tough stuff going on could fly away from these situations and take a break from all the crap that makes our lives suck on a daily basis?

Sadly, there is no such thing as pixie dust. 

Back to plan A; I need to learn to trust.

Suffering is Necessary

"Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, becasue we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance character; and character hope.  And hope does not disappoint us, because God as poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit whom he has given us."  Romans 5:3-5

Why do we suffer?  So we can have hope. 

Can't God give us hope without suffering?  If we never suffered, we would not know what hope is.

Take Eve.  God told her not to eat the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.  Then some snake comes along and tells her to, so she does.

It's easy to look at her and say how dumb she is.  God, the maker of heaven and earth, the awe-inspiring being who walks with you through the garden on a regular basis, says not to do something.  A lowly animal tells you that you should.  Who are you going to listen to?

When I thought about that, I instantly decided Eve must have been an idiot.

Then I wondered, did Eve know what "evil" meant?  I imagine the Garden of Eden had nothing evil in it, so how could she have really understood what eating the fruit from that tree would do?  Like telling a child the stove is hot, until they touch the red burners, they probably will not believe you.  Instead of believing God that eating the fruit was wrong, she decided to try it herself.

I wonder if I would have done the same thing.

Then I got to thinking; why would God even plant such a tree in the garden?  I mean, it was his decision to put it there.  And, being the all powerful being that he is, he knew what would happen because of it.

I believe God put it there because he does not want to make our choices for us.  Yes, ask him what to do and he will tell you, but God wanted Adam and Eve to choose for themselves if they were going to follow his perfect will for their lives, or not. This is the way God chose to let them make that decision..

Unfortunately, humanity is now forced to suffer.  But, God promises that through suffering, we will have hope, and hope will never fail us.

"Everything will be okay in the end.  If it's not okay, it's not the end." 

I'm afraid I don't know who said that, but I truely believe it.  So long as things are "not okay" there will be people with the gumption to fight back; there will be hope.  Without suffering, we cannot have hope.  Without hope, there are no expectations for the future, good or bad.  We would all probably kill ourselves.

For that reason, suffering is necessary because hope is vital.

Lessons from a SuperDog

Call me immature, call me childish.  Tell the world I have not yet chosen to grow up.  I don't care. I truly enjoy the movie Bolt.

Bolt is the story of an ordinary dog who thinks that he has super powers.  Super strength, super bark, super vision, he believes he can do it all.  When is owner is allegedly kidnapped, he travels across the country to rescue her from her terrible fate.  Despite the fact that is super strength vanishes, his bark has become ordinary, and he really can't see that well, Bolt continues to fight against all odds because he believes that he can not fail.   In the end, he manages to not only find his beloved Penny, but he rescues her from certain death.  He believed he could not fail; and, did you notice?  He didn't.

Bolt believed that he could do anything; and I think that is a vital lesson for us all.  My Pastor often asks the question, "What would happen if we actually believed this stuff?"  If we actually believed we could do all things through Christ?  If we actually thought our itty bitty faith could move mountains?

When I was a kid, adults at church always fed me the same line.  "God may not do what you ask him to.  He knows best and it will all happen in his perfect timing." As such, I have always prayed with the expectation that my prayer probably would not be answered, and only now do I realize the folly of my ways.  God can do anything, but how much more if we actually believed it?

I propose to be like Bolt.  While I do not intend to live my life believing I cross wide ravines in a single bound, I choose to believe that through the power within me, I cannot fail.

Eating Vegetables on the Road of Life

Life is often described as a journey.  A long road or path we all must walk until we die and go to Heaven or Hell.  Many things can happen on this journey; good things, bad things, fun things, sad things, things that hurt and things that heal, things that give and things that steal (the rhyme was entirely unintentional). What really matters is how we react to what we are given.  Samwise Gamgee in J.R.R. Tolkien's book entitled The Two Towers would agree with me.  For those who are not familiar with The Fellowship of the Ring, Sam is the ever faithful friend of the main character Frodo Baggins.  The find themselves on a quest alone and in an evil land, far from the other members of their company who were not only taller, but were also far more capapble. Frodo says how he would never have chosen to be where he is now, but is reconciled to it, understanding that "so our path is laid."  He has a task and walking through the destitute land of Morgul is part of it; and there is nothing he can do about it.

"'Yes, that's so,' said Sam.  'And we shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started.  But I suppose it's often that way.  The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them.  I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of sport, as you might say.  But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind.  Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually - their paths were laid that way, as you pit it.  But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't.  And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten.  We hear about those as just when on - and not all to a good end.  You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same - like old Mr. Bilbo.  But those aren't always the  best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in!  I wonder what sort of tale we've fallen into?"

Sam is pointing out that no one looks for "adventures" that often lead to headache and frustration (not to mention the constant threat of being captured and mauled by orcs).  But it is what you do, when caught in the middle of one at the deepest, darkest, moment, when all hope seems lost, that really matters.  Will you turn back in despair? Or will you go forward into victory?

Hebrews chapter 11 is all about faith.  Paul lists off many of the great acts of faith in the Old Testament.  Noah and the arc, Abraham following when God promised him new lands, Moses' parent's who kept him safe from the Pharaoh, Moses leading the Israelite people, the People trusting to cross the red sea, the People marching around Jericho, Rahab hiding the spies, Gideon, Samson, David, Samuel: far too many to list in one chapter of the bible!  All of these people faced a seeming insurmountable challenge.  They all had a moment when they could have turned back-when the world seemed too dark to press on, when the risk of ridicule appeared more than one individual could suffer-but they didn't.  They pressed on.  They kept going, they took the chance, they continued to do what they knew was right.

Why?

Because they had faith.  They believed in the good that was promised to them, and it was worth every cost to attain because they knew without a doubt that it would happen.

Allow me to break it down to an experience we can all relate to-eating vegetables.  Most kids hate at least one kind of vegetable.  And in most families unless you eat those vegetables you will not get dessert.  As such, most kids suck it up and eat those vegetables.  They suffer through every individual pea, every string bean, or-if their parents are really heartless-every single bite of steamed spinach on their plate, because they know that chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream is coming.  It is a complete certainty in their life.  Clean your plate of all it's nasty, and you will get a delicious reward.

I want to live with faith that scarfs down vegetables because it will make dessert come even sooner.