Sunday, December 5, 2010

Taste of Grace

Barbara Kingsolver is the author of my favorite poem, Naming Myself. A few weeks ago, I was googling her and found this quote from one of her books or something:
We need to taste grace and know once again that we desire it... Looking out on a clean plank of planet earth, we can get shaken right down to the bone by the bronze-eyed possibility of lives that are not our own.


I think she was talking about saving the environment and keeping the earth clean for future generations, but something about it really struck me, so I wrote it down.
Get ready guys; this is that post.

Last Sunday afternoon, my brother Robby and I loaded up my car and prepared to make an approximately six-hour road trip back to Searcy, Arkansas to finish up our semester before Christmas. It had been a great Thanksgiving break, but it had been a long break. I was ready to get back and "knock out" all of the things that would come my way this week. It was expected to be extremely stressful.

30 minutes in I realized that I had left my phone charger at home. I can't help but think of how everything would be different now if we had only chosen to add an hour to the trip by going around and getting it.

We were listening to one of my favorite CDs, Caedmon's Call's Overdressed. "Two Weeks in Africa" played through the speakers of my Kia Spectra. I remember telling my brother about my favorite line in the song, "We put the walls up, but Jesus keeps 'em standin'", but that might have been earlier in the trip. Or even a different road trip altogether.

The roads in Campbell, TX, out past Greenville, are kinda rough. Construction and whatnot. I got into the passing lane, well, to pass. I wasn't going too fast. I don't even think I was following too close. Suddenly, two cars in front of me swerved back into the right-hand lane, leaving me with the ability to see a vehicle, a light blue Honda I think, at a stand still in my lane. Apparently she had shredded a tire and then lost control of her car, and she wound up completely stopped. In the fast lane. The rest is history.

I slammed on my brakes, thinking at first that I would be able to stop. Within milliseconds it became clear I could not. I remember Robby in the passenger seat, turning towards me and giving me instructions that I could not even comprehend. I thought about swerving into the median, but the guard rail on the other side of the highway seemed all too undesirable. I somehow perceived a vehicle next to me in the right-hand lane, and while I was busy perceiving, I plowed into the back of the vehicle stopped in the left lane.

Later on, my dad asked me if I heard a crash, boom, bang, thud or anything like that. It wasn't until several days later that I remembered the sound of the collision. Like giant glass wind chimes falling to the ground and shattering. But I remembered the sights and the smells. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes, I saw Mia's life flash before my eyes. Literally. I had all sorts of memories of my Kia come back to me. We had survived so much together. Had this really come to pass? How bad was the damage she had suffered? And the smells. That airbag dust smell is the worst smell I had ever smelt.

Here's the weird part- The music was still playing. In those few short moments of sitting in the driver's seat of the car that Maw-Maw gave me for the last time ever..."A girl got on a plane for two weeks in Africa."

Then Robby, convinced of the imminent explosion of the car, began giving me instructions once again. "Alli, get out of the car. GET outtathecar!" without turning off the battery or removing my keys, I made a move for the door handle, upon which I realized something was not right with my finger. It was not supposed to stick out that far, or point that direction. Yeah, and that bump the size of a fist right below my elbow wasn't there when I got up this morning. I opted to open the door with my right hand instead. When I got out of the car though, I wished I hadn't. The girl who was the passenger in the car I hit was standing there, screaming into the back seat of her vehicle. I thought I had killed someone. Turned out she was just upset about her car. And I can't say that I blame her. I stood there, until one of the strangers/angels that stopped made me sit down in the grass. I wish I had names and addresses for all of those people. I'd send them a postcard to tell them thank-you.

I remember thinking how, from where I was sitting, it looked like my car had no front end at all. I rocked myself back and forth, as some angel who spoke hardly any English took a seat next to me. No front end. My car was done. I wrecked my car. I wrecked someone else's car. I wrecked my arm. "My Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner."




Soon enough, the paramedics got there and, upon seeing I was the only injured one and asking me the same questions over and over again, taped me to a body board, put a make-shift splint and neck brace on me, and loaded me into the ambulance. At this point, I was in no pain from the adrenaline, and figured that, if I had to be injured in a wreck, I might as well get to ride in the back of an ambulance. It was so surreal. The guy in the back with me would be cracking jokes one minute and frantically checking vitals the next.

I want to write down all the details, so that I never forget, but I don't think a blog is the proper place, and I imagine that one day, I will be trying to forget.

My folks met us at the emergency room in Greenville, and after a lengthy wait, we found out that I was bruised and sprained, with a broken pinky finger that might need surgery. That's all.

The next day, while I was trying to convince friends back in Searcy that it was no big deal, my suitemate reminded me "Allison, people die in car crashes!" She was right. I was so blessed. And my God hasn't stopped blessing me! The doctor thinks I won't need surgery on my finger. My severely sprained wrist felt 85% better this morning than it did last night. My dad changed up our auto insurance policy in March. He got an accident forgiveness. And the insurance company gave us a check big enough to get me a car similar to the one I wrecked. I don't know what I would have done had Robby not been in the car with me. Sunday night after I got back to my house, my sister Audrey gave me a huge hug. Best Audrey hug ever. My mom put up with my freaking out on the drive home and then typed my reserach paper for me that night. My dad has handled the insurance stuff and even bought me Birthday Cake ice cream. My friends have showered me with love, and my Christian family have covered me with prayers.

Today at church, I got my good cry. I hadn't really cried in a week, which is a stretch for me even on a normal week. I mentioned to a friend how I had needed to be there this morning and hear what was said. And like a good friend, she made me tell her why. And I realized, that I have to be able to tell these stories. I've learned so much from this incident. You can expect many more blog posts about what I've learned. Because I've got a story. I've got a word. Maybe I'm the worst story teller ever, but I've gotta be able to tell this one. Because it's not just my story or my family's story. This is God's Story.

This is Good News.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

14-19

14)A photo of a time in your life that is now over, but you wish that it wasn't.


15)A photo of a time in your life that is over, and you couldn't be more happy that it is.


16)A photo of you with your oldest friend.


17)A photo of your dinner.


18)A photo of you when you were a different person than you are now.


19)A photo that inspires you.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

I fail at this.

10)A photo of the thing that you like most.

Italy.


Church people.

11)A photo of you making a goofy face.


12)The most recent photo of you.

I don't know about the MOST recent, but it just a few weeks ago so yeah.

13)A photo of you and someone that you miss.


Saturday, October 9, 2010

A rant about prayer in schools.

Let me be politically correct for just a second... It's something that I don't do all that often. I'm much more concerned with being right in God's sight. But for just a second, let me be politically correct.
I attended public schools kindergarten through 12th grade. And I recieved a great education and have many amazing memories from my public school days. For the past 2 years, I have been a student of education and I am learning how to be a teacher. (No, this post is not for me to rant about hating my major.) And I am nearly sure that at some point in my life I will probably work in the public school system in America, whether it be as a teacher or not. I'm saying all this to give me some standing... Right now, I am taking a class about education law. It has been most beneficial I think, albeit a tad boring. And before I decided to quit and blog, I was reading a case involving moments of silence and teacher-led prayer in schools.
But I imagine that one day I will have even more standing than a future teacher. One day, I imagine that I will be a parent of a public school student.

And I will be SO THANKFUL for the "wall of separation of church and state."

Let me show you a quote from the case I'm reading... The governor of Alabama said that having teachers lead prayer in public schools for "willing students" is "a beginning and a step in the right direction."
Apparently, not all of the students were willing, but just scared of the reaction from their peers if they refused to participate. This isn't prayer. It's not witnessing. It's coercion. It's forced indoctrination. It makes kids resent school. It makes kids of other religions resent Christianity. And it makes parents of other religions sue you. And rightfully so. Schools are diverse these days. It's a good thing. It gives Christain students a marvelous mission field. It gives Christian teachers an opportunity to shine Light and practice loving like God does. But imagine allowing prayer in schools. Maybe in Alabama, Arkansas, and even parts of Texas, you'd get Christian prayer. But you'd also get every other kind of prayer. And your kids would essentially be forced to say those prayers too.

Can I just throw it out there real quick. IT IS NOT THE GOVERNMENT'S JOB TO TEACH YOUR KID TO PRAY. It's your job.

God made it clear. Look at Deuteronomy 6. Look at Psalm 78. And quite frankly, do you really want the government teaching your kids about religion, faith, God? Pssh, I don't. I want them to teach them how to write, how to read, how to multiply, divide, how to do well on the SAT. I don't want them to teach them how to pray.
That's why they've separated secular education from religious education. If you want kids to have religious education in school too, cough up the dough to put 'em in private school. There's nothing wrong with that. You get what you pay for in public school and in private school. Then you can send 'em to a place like Harding. I've experienced Christian education, and it's great!Or give them their education at home. That way, you don't have to draw the line between religious education and secular education. But DON'T, just DON'T keep posting facebook causes and asking me to sign petitions to put prayer back in schools. Because I won't. Because that would just suck for everyone. You don't really want your kids to say all the prayers the government would make them say, and I don't really want to lead them.

And now, to the students out there who are both Christian students and public school students- don't let them tell you you can't pray, read your Bible at school, or tell your friends about your youth group. Because you can. Check this out: http://www.everyschool.com/PULSE/Lead/Students%20Bill%20of%20Rights%20on%20Campus.pdf
. It doesn't look very legit, but it is. You have the right to freely express your religion, as long as you are not FORCING it on people. Just remember that God is less concerned with your "rights" than His own mission and His own Glory. You can glorify Him in your public school without a lawsuit. Think about the apostles. Their government was not friendly towards Christ-followers. Even less friendly than ours is. But they started a revolution in people's hearts, not in the government. You can too. Go out there and give 'em he-...heaven. And when the school gets away with violating your "rights", count it pure joy.


Oh, yeah, and my photo for the day...

9) A photo of a team or club that you were in.

Friday, October 8, 2010

7&8.

7)A photo that you may or may not have edited to make yourself look more attractive.

Haha. Michelle took this of us with my camera, so it was kina special and I thought I looked nice anyway. I just made the colors brighter, because the light in the picture wasn't so good... but I definitely look more attractive in it now.

8)A photo of one of your favorite outfits.

My Princess Aurora dress! It makes me feel like a princess. :) Oh, and my lovely grandparents... I love them too!

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

4,5,6.

4)A photo of you on your birthday or your favorite holiday.

This was my 18th birthday. I was on a mission trip in Brownsville, TX and my host mom, Mrs. Martinez, made me a birthday cake! :)


Mom, Audrey and me on Christmas Eve 2009. Christmas Eve. The most magical night of the year. Isn't this pic just magical?

5)The youngest photo you can find of yourself in digital form.

Well not, young photos of me are hard to come by in digital form. This was right after 8th grade.

6)A photo of the contents of your purse.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

two of my favorite people.

Day 3)A photo of you with a parent or two.



Here we are! This was right outside of the church building in Florence, when they came to visit me in Italy.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Day 2... Aren't these just the best?

2) A photo that you're tagged in on facebook, but not actually in.

Most of the time when I'm tagged on facebook and it's not a real photo, it's those little "tag the friend that makes you smile" or "tag the friend with pretty eyes" things, and while those are all very flattering, they're just not the most funny. So I found a few that were. Ok, stories...



The first one was an incident on spring break my freshman year. We were on a mission trip and I was being goofy at dinner. I had this little packet of honey and I was going to be silly, so I tried to toss it to this girl named Amber and say "hey, I found that name tag you lost!" I knew Amber would appreciate that, lol, but unfortunately, it never made it to her because I tossed it and it landed in someone's cup. Yeah, fail. Amber decided to photograph my failure and tag me on facebook. Probably so I'd never forget how much of a fail it was.... Moving right along...




All right, so this here is apparently a sims dance party... I'm pretty sure that Robby and Spencer were being silly and put it in photos of an event that was like a church Christmas party. Several other people were tagged in this... I'm pretty sure I was tagged as that mullet dude in pink.




Ok, and this here is a bust of Heinrich Swoboda, professor of Christian something, in the courtyard of the University of Vienna. Heinrich Swoboda. Not me. My brother took this and thought it would be a good idea to tag me right on his face. I am, to this day, not really sure how to take this gesture.

O na totally unrelated note, I made pasta from scratch today. I also intended to make sauce for that pasta until both of out can openers broke. I also intended to make straciatella soup until I realized that I had only bought half the amount of broth required... Fiddlesticks.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Photo Challenge... and Day 1.

Ok, let me first defend myself. This blog started off with a purpose- to record and share my experiences during my semester in Italy. Since that semester ended last December, I have been trying to post as many of my thoughts as possible, at least as many of my worthwhile thoughts as possible. The problem is, my life here is rather boring, and when I do decode to post something it comes out looking much more like a chapter from a book or a page of a crazy person's diary or something, and way way less like a blog. So, until I have something purposeful to blog about, and because it's a new month, I present: The 30-Day Photo Challenge!

1) A photo of you in your room.
2) A photo that you're tagged in on facebook, but not actually in.
3)A photo of you with a parent or two.
4)A photo of you on your birthday or your favorite holiday.
5)The youngest photo you can find of yourself in digital form.
6)A photo of the contents of your purse.
7)A photo that you may or may not have edited to make yourself look more attractive
8)A photo of one of your favorite outfits.
9) A photo of a team or club that you were in.
10)A photo of the thing that you like most.
11)A photo of you making a goofy face.
12)The most recent photo of you.
13)A photo of you and someone that you miss.
14)A photo of a time in your life that is now over, but you wish that it wasn't.
15)A photo of a time in your life that is over, and you couldn't be more happy that it is.
16)A photo of you with your oldest friend.
17)A photo of your dinner.
18)A photo of you when you were a different person than you are now.
19)A photo that inspires you.
20)A photo of you being absolutely ridiculous.
21)A photo of someone that you are grateful to have in your life.
22)Your favorite landscape photo.
23)A photo tha tyou don't like of yourself.
24)A photo that you had no idea was being taken.
25)You facebook profile photo.
26)A picture of the real you.
27)A photo of you when you were anything but happy, even if you were simling and doing your best to hide it.
28)A photo of you one year ago.
29)A photo that makes you laugh out loud.
30)A photo of you with someone that you love.


Ok, so today is the first of the month... Day 1.
1) A photo of you in your room.



This isn't my room anymore, thank goodness, but even if somehow it was my room, it would look nothing like this. This was freshman year in the room on the second floor of Sears that Stacy and I had. We definitely had some good times in that room. Like when we laid down on the floor with open pill bottles all around us and looked like we were passed out so that Tiqua, our RA would flip out when she did room check. She didn't flip out. And the time that we dressed up cute and did our hair to take pictures of ourselves with Santa hats and reindeer antlers on. yeah, I think that was dead week at like 2 am. But Sears sucked back then... the mold was impossible to get out of the bathroom and shower and all over the walls... plus out AC always stunk- like I think something died in there. But yeah. Me in my room.



Before you freak out, there we 6 of us trying to get packed for free travel... This was the night before we all shipped out suitcases home last November. You really could not walk. I shared it with 5 other people and a cat most of the time, but this was my room. :)

Thursday, September 9, 2010

What's in a name?


So we've been talking about some things in my BOLD class that I really wanted to write about. Except I can't really decide how I feel about it. I tend to qualify everything. I guess that's the perfectionist in me.

Allison Nicole Hare. That's my name. It's important to me. It's important to who I am. My parents gave me that name when I was born. Well, I guess they gave it to me before I was born. But from the begining of my existance, the people that I first came into relationship with named me based on who I was. Who I would be. Who I am to them.

יהוה

He couldn't have picked a people who's language had vowels, now could He?

When the God of Israel was anticipating the begining of His relationship with Israel's descendants, he gives Moses His name to deliver to the people. You cannot have a real relationship with someone who's name you do not know.

There are two creation accounts at the beginning of Genesis. One of them is told almost from the perspective of the heavens themselves. It's very factual. Almost impersonal. And then there is one that is all about the relationship that God has with humankind. In the first account, the Creator is refered to as God. In the second, He is refered to as that name that He told Moses in Exodus. His personal name.

Ok, back to Israel. Their encounters with יהוה pretty much scare them to death. But they know that He is worthy of reverance and respect and, well, fear. So somewhere along the way they, out of respect, stop speaking His personal name. When they are reading aloud and come across it, they use another word. They said a different name when they read his Name. In this culture of OMG, it's kinda hard to imagine. Parents taught their kids about who He was and about the amazing things He had done for them, but they also taught them to respect that Name.

So of course, there's merit in this. After all, there are many names that we use for God besides יהוה too ... I looked in my prayer journal to find a few, and pretty much only ran across Lord and God, so I guess I am a loser at my own game, but still.

In a sense though, it makes me a little sad that my God, the One that I worship, told His personal name to people long ago, but now I can only be 95% sure of how it's pronounced. People come before Him with all this "Lord, God, Almighty, Mr., Dr., Sir" stuff, and He says, "Oh, just call me יהוה!" Once upon a time, God and man were on a first name basis.

But there's this interesting incident that happens sometime in between Creation and Sinai. Abraham worships יהוה. And יהוה kinda likes that about him. So, knowing that Abraham is still an imperfect man, God chooses him to be the recipient of His promises. And there are many of them. Among them is the promise of a son. And we all know the story. So he tries to rush things. He has his nephew for his heir and when they part ways, he has a slave as his heir. He was old. But he wanted a kid. And God had promised it to him, after all.

So suddenly the spotlight shifts to Hagar. We don't know a whole lot about her life before this point, so I will take the liberty of speculating about it. I don't think she would mind. I'm thinking she had been a slave for a while. Perhaps she was a slave in Pharaoh's palace. If you're an Egyptian and you've gotta be a slave, that's probably the place to be. So one day, she finds out that she's going to be the maid for the newest addition to pharaoh's harem. Turns out to be this foreigner lady who was really confused, probably kinda pissed and always talking about her husband (not pharaoh). Turns out this woman really was married. And her husband was powerful and blessed by the God he served. So before Hagar knew what was up, she was sent, along with some of pharaoh's wealth and many other slaves, to Abraham, and continued to be Sarah's servant.

When all of this "God promised us a son" stuff starts, Hagar is probably goin' "Oh, yeah, good luck with that, Sarah. Your baby factory has been bankrupt for what? 45 years?" Whether she actually said that or not doesn't matter; turns out Sarah wanted her to sleep with Abraham and just have a baby for her. And he was like 100? Grossgrossgrossgrossgross. But I guess when you're a slave, you have to sleep with whoever your boss wants you to. But anyway, Hagar gets pregnant and has Abraham's baby, and at this point, probably hates her life. So she gives Sarah some trouble, I'm sure. And Sarah is jealous, and probably a little weirded out herself, so she mistreats Hagar. And Hagar runs away.

Out in the desert, she's on her way out of Abraham and Sarah's lives forever. No way she's going back to that. Somebody else is just gonna have to give them a baby. She was gone. But I have to imagine she was scared. And uncertain. And lonely and hurt and hormonal. She was probably crying. But who cares? No one had ever cared about her before...

Who cares? יהוה, that's Who. The God of Abraham heard her misery. יהוה saw her. He saw HAgar. Everyone else had just seen her as a slave. An Egyptian slave. A female Egyptian slave. A baby-mama. A rebel. יהוה saw Hagar. And of course, Hagar didn't know His name. So when she entered into relationship with Him and recieved promises of her own, she gave Him a name that embodied Who He had been toward her. "The Living One who sees me". He sees her. And in her lifetime, He gives her more than she could have ever dreamed she would have when she was just pharaoh's slave.

I don't know how to pronounce my God's real name. Maybe it's a bummer. Maybe it's ok. We have a very personal relationship. And He knows my name. But again my thoughts are brought back to my prayer journal. God. Lord. It makes the God of my very personal prayer journal seem almost... impersonal.

Hagar challenges me. And the Holy Spirit convicts me. I am determined to know His name. And call me a dirty rotten post-modern if you want, but I am so excited for Him to show me who He is. Who He is to me.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Knowledge, Hope, and stupid Thursdays.

Tomorrow is Thursday. Thursdays mean EdFd 311. I HATE EdFd 311. That class scares me. It scares me because it makes me have to think seriously about my future in teaching. I'm beginning to feel super super turned off to teaching, but while I am in this class, that is my future. And I feel like that's the way that my classes are going to make me feel for the rest of my time in college. I have no motivation to study. I keep praying for God to give me this motivation, but I am so far behind htat the thought of doing what I need to do just gets more and more terrifying because now it seems like I couldn't get it all done on time. I am worried about my GPA. At least, I think I would be worried about my GPA if I cared anymore. I have a problem. I have a real problem. I live for Monday and Wednesday afternoons. And Fridays too. But mostly Mondays and Wednesdays. I thought it was going to be really stressful... 3 1-hour classes all in a row. From 1 o'clock til 4 o'clock. But I love it. LOVE IT. Church Planting. Geography. Pentatuech. I love them all. But what comes after those glorious Monday and Wednesday afternoons? EdFd 311. I don't so much mind 315, or really even 310. It's 311. The thought of getting ready to teach, student teach, prestudent teach, or even just take that frickin Praxis makes me wanna change my major. Or stay in bed all day. Or quit school. It shouldn't be like that. I mean, while I'm in the class, it's not that bad. But then I think about it. The thoughts are what I really dread. I guess sometimes I overthink things. Last week I thought about changing my major. Trying to find something that I think I wanna do. But I realized today that it has nothing to do with what I want to do. It has everything to do with what I enjoy. I think I would happily stay and extra semester or 2 if I could enjoy my classes. (Who gets out in 4 years anymore anyways? [ECED majors who hate their lives, that's who.])

This summer, someone unknowingly put into words what I think is the only reason that I have ever wanted to teach. "Knowledge gives people hope." Hope is what keeps us going. Even the slightest hope that we will reach our goals gives us an expectation of reaching our goals. If I can give you knowledge, I can, by the grace of God, give you some hope. I want ot give people hope. And I want to enjoy my classes (or at least not dread them.) And I have been told that I would make a good teacher. And I don't have any desire to be a classroom teacher. (Actually I think I have like negative desire to be a classroom teacher.) And I'm a junior. So what do I do?

If Jesus could somehow communicate to me that I could best serve him with this major, or best serve him teaching in a classroom, I would do it. I would go to EdFd 311 and smile. I would do the homework and feel accomplished.

People tell me that I could "best serve" Jesus doing basically anything. No. I refuse to believe that God doesn't care what major I pick. Surely the God who frickin made me knows what I like and what i enjoy, even when I don't. Surely he's not gonna give me this career that I don't want and tell me that's the best thing for me. Is that selfish? I mean, he made me the way that he did for a reason, right? He gave me my likes and dislikes and strengths and weaknesses for a reason, right? So how do I know when to move? And when the best thing to do is stay?

I thought that when I had this little crisis last week that would be the end of it. If I have a crisis every week of the semester, I am going to lose my mind.

I thought writing it out would make me feel better about all this, or that somehow, by wirting out all the thoughts that first pop into my head, I would somehow find hte answer inside my own heart. But it's not really helping and I'm tired and I still have that mound of homework to do.

C.S. Lewis wrote in The Weight of Glory, "Meanwhile, the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is a Monday morning." Sometimes, this is the way I make the crown seem like it's actually real, attainable. One Monday mornign at a time. This semester, I change it for my own purposes... "Meanwhile, the cross comes before the crown, and tomorrow I have to my EdFds."

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Not Weird.


A couple of weeks ago, I remember thinking about how I haven't blogged all summer long. I figured at the end of this internship, I would just write one big post and reflect back. But as I am sitting here, in one of those big puffy chairs at the Starbucks in Papillion, Nebraska, I wonder how I ever thought I could come up with the words to describe it.
All spring I was talking about how I know God had a purpose for me in Nebraska this summer. I didn't know what it would be, but I had firgured that by now I would have known what it is, and this morning, I looked at myself in the mirror as I brushed my pearly whites and realized that I still wasn't sure what that incredible Purpose was. As my morning continued (morning was really midday today) I found myself browsing through recent news on facebook, and saw a random status post that made the bottom drop out of my stomach...
One particular day in not-so-long-ago mid-February of this year, I had to make an important and difficult decision about which of the two internships I had been offered would be the one that I would accept. Despite the pros and cons lists and the poll of suitemmates and parents, I went with the one at Southwest in Omaha, the one that I had felt like God was leading me to all along. My other choice was a church in San Antonio, Texas, that I am sure is a wonderful place with many God-loving people. It would have been easier, so I thought, but it almost seemed like I had just been offered the job because I knew the right guy, and someone just needed a spot filled. The post I saw on facebook was about the youth minister who had offered me the internship in San Antonio; apparently he was having surgery to remove a brain tumor. While this was not good news by any stretch of the mind, by that facebook post, God revealed to me part of the Purpose. What would I have done if I had found myself trying to help a youth group through a summer when they found out that their youth minister has a brain tumor? God knew what He needed to teach me this summer, and how to deal with that when so many other people are depending on you wasn't one of those things.
The adversary has been lying to me, well, ever since I understood enough to listen. But this summer, it's been BRUTAL. I have felt so inadequate. Like I had no skills, no good ideas, no confidence. I felt like the kids didn't like me, their folks didn't like, me, my coworkers didn't like me. I felt like I didn't know God, like he didn't have a place for me in ministry at all. Over the past, meh, week or so, God used all of those people to to disprove all of those lies. Franklin, our youth minister, gave me an "evaluation" I though I was gonna barf, but then he started talking about how he thought I did things well, how I did what they needed me to do. He told me the one thing he wished I done more was share more of my ideas. I had a couple of good conversations with my co-intern, Brent, a guy who is smarter and knows more about the Bible than everyone else I know combined. After that I realized that we really were friends. This summer God had taught me how to work with and befriend someone that I thought I could never ever work with, much less call a friend. Last night, I was taking two of my girls, Sierrah and Kylie back home after youth group, and was told "When I heard we were going to have a girl intern, I thought she would be really weird and we wouldn't want to be around her, but you're not weird." After feeling like I couldn't relate to kids six years younger than me, that was like as close to a "well done, good and faithful servant" as I will ever hear while alive on the earth. I realized that when they all say "Why can't you just go to college in Omaha?" and "Why can't you stay until Akastasia?" and "You're leaving so soon! Let's hang out every day until school starts!", they're not just saying it- they mean it!
I don't know what I did this summer. But I know I didn't fail. I don't know why God wanted me in Nebraska, but I know that's where he wanted me, and not another place. He knows what I can handle. He know what I need. He knows who needs me. What a good Father!

Monday, June 21, 2010

reflections on late-night Truth-seeking.

I wish I could say that I'm not worried. I wish I could say I'm not stressed out or angry. I wish I could say that I'm not frustrated. I wish I could say that I know exactly what to do. I wish I could say I'm not shy or embarrassed. I wish I could say that I haven't let the past get to me. I wish I could say that I didn't sleep all afternoon (in which case, I would probably be sleeping now.) I wish I could say I'm not anxious or lonely. I wish I could say that I am not tempted. I wish I could say that I have not been lied to. I at least wish I could say I haven't believed those lies.

I wish I wasn't scared. I wish I know what was expected of me and knew how to do it. I wish I had a clue what the heck is going on. I wish someone had already taught me how to do this. I wish I had more time to do it, and more people to do it with. I wish I was doing it at home. I wish I felt accepted (whether I have been or not, it doesn't feel that way.) I wish I was experienced and could be the one who actually knows what to say. I wish I was brave. I wish I was creative. But wait...

I am worried, I am stressed, I am angry, I am frustrated, I don't know what to do about it, I am shy, I am embarassed, I let things get to me, I slept for 4 hours this afternoon, I am anxious, I am lonely, I am pounded by temptations, I have been lied to, and I have believed the liar.

I am scared, I don't know what's expected of me, I wouldn't know how to do it if I did, I don't have a single clue, no one has taught me how to do this, I don't have alot of time, I don't have as many people to work with as I'd like, I'm in Nebraska instead of home, I don't feel accepted, I am unexperienced, I never know what to say, I am not brave, but I am creative.

Sure, sometimes I roll off of ideas that I got from somewhere else or something that I saw work for someone else in the past, but I know how to put a different spin on it and make it work for other situations. That is how we were able to wing group time so well at soulquest this week.

Ok, so I'm a little depressed, but don't you dare lie to me more, Satan. If you wanna rub the truth about how I'm not exactly all alright in my face and remind me that I've heard the lies roll off your tongue in the past, go ahead. My God will take care of me. But you dare try to lie to me again?! That's pretty nervy of you, but sorry you lose.

Worried, stressed, angry, frustrated. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But those are not what define me.

Redeemed. Able. Delightful. Saved. Called. Altered. Purchased. Cherished. Known. Holy. Purposeful. Courageous. Free. Desired. Useful. Royal. Blameless. Empowered. Protected. Understood. Ready and willing. And more than a conqueror.


I am more than, I am more than tonight. I am counted, called out and alive.
-Needtobreathe


Saturday, May 15, 2010

Let Us Break Burrito Together...

There are so many things that I love about being home.

One of those things is definitely being able to spend time with most of my favorite people. Kids that I grew up with, people I was in youth group with, and my fantastic fam. I love my Harding family, I mean, those folks are irreplaceable too, but there are several people who are very prescious to me that I only get to see when I come home to Dallas.

Another one of those things, probably in second place, is Chipotle. I ask people at Harding if they have Chipotle where they come from, and half of them think I am talking about a flavor of salsa. They don't know the beauty of the burrito. I don't have a problem with change, but when I get in line in Chipotle, I am pretty much always going to get the same burrito. Yes I want rice. Beans? Pinto please. Make that chicken. With pico de gallo, sour cream, and extra cheese. (I don't really care about how much they put on to begin with, I am pretty much always going to ask for a little more cheese.)

When you put these two things together, there is quite the collision of fantastics. A couple of weeks ago, before I left for Austria, (I meant to write this blog before then, I'm just really far behind in life...) Stephanie, one of my besties, spent the night. It was so great to get to spend time together, and for lunch the next day, we went to Chipotle. While we ate we discussed how wonderful our lunch was. While we praised Chipotle, we somehow arrived at the topic of the Last Supper, and how the main course was probably burritos. I mean, Jesus had to have had good taste, right? He can to earth in human form to save humanity from sin and death, but the ablility to eat delicious burritos had to have been at least one plus. If it had been mine or Steph's Last Supper, we aould have undoubtedly chosen burritos...

But of course, if burritos had been served at the Last Supper, Chipotle would have even more business than they already do, because we would quite possibly eat burritos for communion instead of bread/ crackers and grape juice/wine.

"I speak to sensible people; judge for yourselves what I say. Is not the cup of thanksgiving for which we give thanks a participation in the blood of Christ? And is not the bread that we break a participation in the body of Christ? Because there is one loaf, we, who are many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf." 1Cor 10:15-17

It seems like the Lord's Supper is a rather controversial thing. Everyone has a way of doing it that they think is best, and I'm not trying to say that one way is the only way or that we should all eat a burrito instead. (I'm not quite that heretical... yet.) I know that the purpose is for us to remember and proclaim. In some denominations though, Communion is considered a very holy sacrament. And I think there's a good reason why.

We commune with God, but we also commune with one another. We all drink from the same cup (figuratively lol) and eat from the same loaf. God brings his people together though this communion. I always get this almost eerie feeling when I take communion alongside people who I haven't seem in a long time. And people whose names I do not even know. And in a huge group of people. And alongside people who speak another language. Our God makes us all one, and it's obvious that He is the only one who ever could do something like that.

There's gotta be more to who we are as a body though than just juice and crackers though. There's more to communing than just Communion. And I don't know maybe I'm wrong about this, but I sometimes feel like when I spend time with my sister over a Chopotle burrito, I know more about God, and am more focused on His purpose than when I am quietly comtemplating in a full church auditorium. Call me a heretic if you will, but while I want to take the Lord's SUpper with my fellow believers, I want to spend just as much time breaking burritos with them. Time that we spend together fellowshipping and enjoying just knowing each other and walking together in the light is just as holy. Ans I'm not just saying that because I love me some Chipotle... although I'm sure that probably has something to do with it...

<3

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Learning and Teaching

They tell me that part of being a teacher means that you never stop learning. Learning about your students, learning about how to teach them, learning about yourself, and learning about the world around you.

They also say that if you think about it, you learn something new everyday. I was thinking about it in the shower this morning and decided to take note of the things that I learned. To me, everything that I learned seemed to be comical. I don't know what that says about my day... So anyway, here they are:

At 8am I went to Missionary Anthropology and took a ridiculous test. And I learned that my favorite letter is A. Go figure. Everytime I didn't know an answer, I just filled in A. And at the end of the test, I counted up all of each letter, and hoped that there were more As than any other letter. Especially B. Here's the kicker- I've been doing this since at least the 3rd grade. I remember doing the same thing on the TAAS test. Yet, on this early morning, it actually occured to me that A is indeed my favorite letter.

Well, then I went to chapel and learned that God doesn't want Harding kids to live in the south after graduation. He wants us to go live in the Northeast or to Oregon. I won't elaborate on this as to not reveal my cynicism. ;)

I went to the library to check out some books to read for my children's lit portfolio, and learned that you should at least read the full title of the books you pick up before you check them out. It would really be a good idea to scan the inside too. I needed to check out some picture books and I ended up with one called "Midnight Dance of the Snowshoe Hare: Poems of Alaska" I missed that whole poems part. I got another one called "How the Animals got their Colors" and it's a book of like 12 legends about animals. So that's like 12 different problems and 12 solutions. Not exactly what I needed. At least I got to see some cool illustrations though. And the book of poems was also useful, as I have to have a couple of poems too.

Oh, which leads me to the craziest thing I've learned today. I learned it from the Snowshoe Hare book. I thought it was going to be a about a little bunny who went out dancing one night. Maybe he has a couple of friends. But no, it was refering to a whole huge group of Snowshoe Hare. Not Hares. Hare. Apparently the word "hare" is like "moose" and "deer" and "bison" (which is debateable ;) and to make it plural, you don't actually "put an s at the end of it".

I had to go through a whole paradigm shift. My worldview cracked. My identity was shaken.

So waht are we? Not the Hares. Now we're just a bunch of Hare? For a minute there, I was NOT gonna be ok... but I am now, so we're good.

Anyway, my quest today has got me thinking about learning, which has got me thinking about teaching. Even if I don't want to be a classroom teacher I still want to teach. So doing all this thinking just got me confused so I just went to biblegateway.com. Cuz that's how I roll.

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.

They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been devastated for generations.
Isaiah 61:1-4



Listen, dear friends, to God's truth, bend your ears to what I tell you.
I'm chewing on the morsel of a proverb;
I'll let you in on the sweet old truths,
Stories we heard from our fathers,
counsel we learned at our mother's knee.
We're not keeping this to ourselves,
we're passing it along to the next generation—
God's fame and fortune,
the marvelous things he has done.


He planted a witness in Jacob,
set his Word firmly in Israel,
Then commanded our parents
to teach it to their children
So the next generation would know,
and all the generations to come—
Know the truth and tell the stories
so their children can trust in God,
Never forget the works of God
but keep his commands to the letter.
Psalm 78:1-8



"I do not think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday."
-Abraham Lincoln

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Happy St. Patty's Day- Thank a missionary!!!

Happy st. Patrick's Day! In America, today tends to be a celebration of Ireland (sigh...), and for many, an excuse to break Lent and party it up. Well, I'm wearing green... What does today mean to me? What does it mean to you?






I saw part of this episode of 19 Kids and Counting over Spring break where Michelle Duggar was reading to her kids about St. Patrick. She said "I figured there must be a reason he was called 'saint'." I didn't watch the all the rest of the show, but I liked what she'd said.


I knew that St. Patrick wasn't Irish and that he'd brought the Gospel into the paganism of Ireland, but I decided to do a little more research and what I found was pretty cool, so I thought I'd share.


Patrick was a British kid, son of a Christian minister, who was kidnapped when the Irish celts raided his village after the fall of the Roman Empire, and brought to Ireland as a slave. Apparently he was put to work as a shepherd, but he was lonely and sad, which was to be expected if you ask me. Anyway, Patrick turned to faith to help him survive the lonliness and humiliation of slavery and became rather devout. He began dreaming of bringing the Irish people out of their sun-worship and into the Light. After 10 years of slavery in Ireland, Patrick had a vision from God telling him that it was time to go home. So he ran away and headed for the coast. He made it back to Britain and became a priest, and not too long after that recieved another vision. Now it was time to go back to Ireland, the land of his slavery.


So Patrick obeyed. He went headed to Ireland, where the Christians were few, and the few were quiet. And he taught them about the Lord.


Nobody can really peg anything down that he actually did after that. There's a lot of legend about banishing snakes and other miracles. There's a legend that the way he taught the idea of the Trinity to them was with the shamrock. 3 in 1. I thought that one was prety awesome.



Patrick was apparently never actually canonized in the Catholic church either, so while you can't know alot about him, I think St. Patrick's Day would be a good day for us to appreciate and thank God for the legacy of love that His children have carried all over the world over thousands of years. God's People just keep on going, and by no strength of our own. I'm sure Patrick had to do a lot of wrestling with going back to the place where he had been a slave after he had been reunited with his family in his homeland. But he obeyed God. And because of that, Ireland became a Christian stronghold in the Dark Ages, when the rest of Europe was falling apart.

God's Kingdom. How many have died for it since Christ? How many have died to their own desires to further it? How many are giving themselves up at this very moment, just so that someone else can know Jesus? What can I do for them? What can I do?


So if you've read this far, go thank the person who taught you about the Lord. And then do likewise. :)




Thursday, February 4, 2010

Jump off a Balcony!

I've been having a whole lot of really weird dreams lately. On Monday night, I had a dream about the Coca-Cola polar bears and some penguins out on Harding's front lawn in the snow. Then on Tuesday night I had a dream about being on free travel in Germany- I was spending the night in a grocery store and I met these 15 year olds from Dallas.

I don't know if it's because I've been sick and my head is like unbalanced or something or if it has to do with the medicine I've been taking before bed or what, but for whatever reason, I've had quite a bit of REM sleep going on.

I didn't sleep very well on Tuesday night I was really tired on Wednesday during the day. Well, it was Wednesday, which is nap day by nature, so during the break between the end of chapel and my 1:00 class, I crashed for about 2 hours. I slept better in those 2 hours than I had the night before. And yes, I had another weird dream. In this dream, I was sleeping. Yeah. Like, it was night time and I put on my pajamas and got in bed. Well, I've been praying a whole lot about getting an internship this summer and that God would place me where I need to be. On Tuesday I can calls from 2 churches, neither or which I wanted to work with, that said they had hired someone else. Should have been no big deal, but because they're the only ones I've actually heard from, I started to get really nervous. I mean, what am I supposed to do this summer if none of these people call me back? Why does it always seem like God never wants me to do the things that I want to do, even when my motives are good. And I know when my motives are good....

That was sorta my crazy thought process. Anyway, in this dream I had, I went to sleep. praying that God would align my will with His own. Actually I was probably praying that HE would align His will with mine. So in my dream, I had a dream. I think. It was more like I fell asleep in my dream and then my dream turned into a scene from a movie.

Aladdin (disguised as a prince) and Jasmine are on her balcony. She's angry with the way he's been acting towards her and tells him to jump off. So he does and, of course, is caught by the magic carpet. When Jasmine sees what happened and as she is looking the magic carpet over, Aladdin asks her if she wants to go on a ride with him. She asks "Is it safe?" and he responds with, "Do you trust me?"

And so then I woke up to Owl City reminding me that it's time to get up and get ready for my 1 o'clock.

This can only mean two things. One of them is that the human brain is really nifty and can remember beloved, though cheesy and sappy segments from disney movies that you haven't seen in many years. The other is that everything is God's hands. And it works out for the better. But it's my choice to be accepting of His plan and be satisfied in it.

And sometimes God's voice sounds like Aladdin's. :)

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Culture Shock

Today I was thinking about Italy. Remembering an experience I had on free travel in Assisi. And another memory of something that happened in Rome. It seems so surreal. Those things seem like the things that you only see happen to people in movies and stuff. How does that ever happen in real life? How did that ever happen to me? And then sometimes I can't believe that I'm back. How could I possibly not be in Europe anymore? How is that possible? How is that right?

But I've been occupied. Not just with school activities and such, but with culture shock. It's become quite the addiction for me. A real adrenaline rush, to realize that what you are experiencing is either something that you've not experienced in a very long time or something that you've never experienced; either way, you're not used to such things and you absolutely do not know how to react. Call me crazy, but I've discovered that I love this feeling. It's one of those feelings that you want to stay. but the thing about it is that it doesn't stay. Not when you're back in the place where you grew up. Or at least the next state over.

Fom one historical building (the villa) to another (Pattie Cobb Hall). With a breif stop in a Dallas suburb. From the ladies' cooking to Nutella and bread to Chipotle and Mom's cooking to the Caf. From Caffe Mario to Java Ranch to Java City. From my HUF family to my Meadow View family to my Harding family. With a little bit of no one but me and Jesus thrown in there too.

Yahweh is a genius. And I am an addict. End of story.