Well, I came to the realization that it has been quite a while since I updated this thing.

First there was school and work, which had me running around like crazy. Then came the mono, which put an end to all running around and reduced me to a moss-covered log who laid in bed and watched TLC all day. The past 3-4 weeks have consisted of me trying to get better and do everything I can without exhausting myself.

Good news is, I'm almost post-mono. Bad news is, my endurance is gone. Seems my body has gotten used to lying around all the time and sleeping for a minimum of 8 hours a day. Where has that running girl gone? I can't find her.

Having mono basically gave me a "forced sabbatical," which I did not want. I am fortunate to have professors who care about me and tell me, "your health comes first; the work can wait." My coworkers, too, have taken on extra loads so I can rest. It's a slight blow to your pride when you realize the world can continue to run without you. But it's true. I am just so blessed to have so many people who wanted to make sure I was recovering properly.

I'm back at work and class now, and minus a few papers that will be completed at a later date, I'm almost feeling normal again. I'm a bit sad that I've missed October; weather-wise, it's a beautiful month. Oh well.

So now that the mono is almost gone, perhaps I'll write on this thing a bit more. I do have ideas and observations about things, and hopefully I'll start recording them more.

9/11

I acknowledge that this is a solemn day. I was a junior in high school, blissfully unaware while sitting in my precalculus class. It wasn't until I got to Spanish that I heard the news, and saw the pictures. It all looked so surreal - I thought it was a scene from Independence Day. The principal made us turn off the televisions, and few of my teachers wanted to talk about it. I still remember that Mrs. Yohe helped calm down our fears, and Mr. McDonald actually talked about the facts with us. Everyone else didn't seem to acknowledge that it happened, instead wanting to know why we hadn't finished our homework. We walked around the halls in a daze, not able to comprehend it all.

It was a terrible day.

There's a well-written article on Ethics Daily that is worth reading. It gives a different and much-needed view on this day. While in no way does it take away the reality of the events seven years ago or lessen the gravity of the situation, it does provide a broader perspective...

a full year in the states

It has been a full year since I returned from South Africa. Wow.

So much has happened in the past year that it seems like a lifetime ago. Yet I still remember the faces and the voices and the places so clearly.

My time in Johannesburg changed me. A lot. And through that experience and the processing afterwards (the processing that still continues today), I've realized a lot about myself and life in general...

*I have no fear of traveling now. Go on a mission trip overseas? Okay! I have a comfort level in other cultures and among other peoples.
*I require introvert time, even if it's just a nap. Though I love people and I love new situations, I get overwhelmed when I don't have a chance to take a break and be by myself for a little bit.
*Shower time = sacred time. No shower = a big adjustment.
*Germs? What germs?
*I am a selfish person who doesn't fully appreciate everything she has.
*I have the tendency to shut myself off emotionally and distance myself from others. This can prevent building relationships with others and truly ministering to them.
*I adore children. Even if they're naughty.
*Some of the most sacred moments come out of the most ordinary things.
*Laughter can bridge any cultural or language barrier.
*No amount of training or education can ever teach you to love fully and unconditionally. That's just something you have to learn on your own.
*Communication with those you love is incredibly important.
*You can cook almost anything in a skillet.
*Massive amounts of food are overrated. Yet we in America succumb to it every day.
*High fructose corn syrup is gross.
*Transition is very very difficult. And it's okay to admit that.
*I still miss it. A lot. Even though I know this is where I'm supposed to be right now.
*Missions isn't about bringing Christ to others. It's about going to others, loving them, and recognizing how Christ is already in their midst.
*Ministry is where my heart is.

recap from the week...

I had several moments this week that I wanted to blog about...but haven't been motivated to do so until now. So here's a glance at the past week...
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Last Sunday I preached at a small church plant in my college town. I'm good friends with the pastor; he's taking some time off to recover from surgery. I talked about Jacob's ladder, and made a few passing comments about the stone with oil that Jacob set up after his encounter with God.

Later in the service, the pastor's 6-year-old son came up to me, pointed to the communion supplies (a loaf of bread and cup of juice), and whispered, "The bread can be the stone, and the juice can be the oil!" I'm sure there's something theologically deep in that statement...but how precious that he picked up on that.
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Tuesday I spent the day with the middle schoolers at a local theme park. It was so much fun to just run around the park with them; they were thrilled about the fact that I would ride all the rides. A few even specially requested that I sit next to them. And I got a glimpse at what relational ministry is all about...hopefully my job will allow for more of that. :o)
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Wednesday the boyfriend and I went to the "Jesus for President" Tour, led by Shane Claiborne and his friends. I wasn't sure what to expect, but it was a really cool experience. Thought-provoking, fun, and very memorable. Boyfriend was blown away. Good times all around.
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And this morning I preached at my old church, where I attended since I was 5. The pastor is in Europe for the BWA Youth conference, so he called me in to preach. I was a bit nervous about preaching where I grew up (because who takes you seriously in your hometown?). I think the sermon went well at both services; it's a bit more challenging than some people might have expected. I got a lot of "We're so proud of you" and "Great job" comments; part of me wonders if they were referring to the sermon itself, or just amused by the fact that their "little girl" is all grown up and preaching. But a few people did say some heart-felt things.

It's a bit selfish, really, wanting good feedback from a sermon. I want to know it reached people; I want to know it made a difference; I want the credit. Very selfish. We're not called to preach for our own glory, but for God's. Yet at the same time, as a growing minister and someone who doesn't have a lot of experience, that feedback means a lot to me to know if I am following the right path.

Did my sermon touch anyone? Will it make a difference? I may never know. But I preached what I felt led to preach, and I have to be satisfied with that.

kickin' off the heels

Starting tomorrow, our sanctuary ceiling is undergoing asbestos abatement. For the next two months, we will be worshiping in the fellowship hall while the ceiling is replaced. So, today we had to clean out the sanctuary. Following the service/picnic/band concert, staff and members lugged out the pew cushions, hymnals, Bibles, and chairs.

Not one to be left out, I kicked off my heels and worked right along side them all. One man from the choir yelled out, "Watch out, it's a country girl!" Another commented on how I was showing off my muscles.

Most of these people only see me on Sunday morning, where I'm dressed up and leading the kids. So it was fun for me to show the other side of me...the "country girl" who isn't afraid to get down and dirty with a little hard work.

How often are we afraid to get our hands dirty (both metaphorically and literally)? I get tired of the polished face we put on Christianity and the church - because following Jesus is anything but nice and put together. I love our respectful, traditional worship services...but it shouldn't end there. True worship - true faith - is lived out in the day to day, in the dirt and the mess and rubble of our lives.

Perhaps we all need some lessons in kicking off our heels in church.

God's will?

You know, we make a really big deal about following God's will. Doing what God wants us to do. Somewhere along the way in my childhood, I took the idea of the "straight and narrow" a bit too literally and interpreted God's will as being this one particular path. And if I were to make the wrong decision and stray from that path...only bad things would happen.

Naturally, this caused quite a bit of anxiety with my decision-making. And it can cause me to second guess things in my life, always wondering if I'm doing the right thing.

Theologically, I don't agree with that anymore. But that way of thinking is ingrained in my thinking, and still pops up on occasion.

I've had to learn that sometimes, my choices are between good and good. And God can work through either situation. I still need to practice discernment, but I don't need to become so anxious about my decisions.

This really makes me reconsider how I address things like this when teaching children and youth. Yes, following God is difficult. But many times we complicate the situations in our minds, second guessing and stressing too much over making the right decision, as though life is a multiple choice test that we can fail. Perhaps it's more of an essay, that we write continuously, learning and processing and developing things as we go...

one year

It's amazing how much can happen in one year.

This time last year, I was getting ready to go to South Africa, with no idea what I was getting in to. (more on the SA reflections in later posts).

Now, I have returned from there with a forever changed heart. Moved into an apartment...and now into a community house. Started working at a church and changed my membership. Traveled to El Salvador. Been in a musical. Made new friends. Started running. Said goodbye to a roommate and a good friend. Started *coughdatingsomeonecough*. Put a year of seminary under my belt. Discovered my love for both the church and the academic side of ministry. And through it all, learned a lot about myself, about God, and found new strength and confidence in it all, while realizing how much more I have to learn.

It's been quite a year. No wonder I'm exhausted now...is all of seminary like this? I think I need a break from all this change and transition...

no conclusion

It's finals week. Thus, I'm blogging. Makes sense, right?

It seems as though the more I write papers, the less they tie up neatly. As I get deeper and deeper into different perspectives and difficult questions, I can explore but not fully answer. For example, here's a "conclusion" from a recent exegesis I wrote on a passage in Job:

No solid conclusion exists for the question of suffering and God’s presence. We do not understand why such injustices exist despite the characteristic of God as a liberator, yet it is not enough to cause Job or most of us to abandon such a belief. Ultimately, what we do know is this: God’s ways are higher than we can know or fully comprehend, which God’s response makes clear in the final chapters of the narrative. It is at this point where it is best to take the position of the wise, who fully acknowledged their own limited understanding, instead allowing a variety of voices to participate in the discussion. Though that did not stop them from contemplating and struggling with such topics, as we should, it also did not limit them to a stagnant and rigid system of theology regarding sin and suffering. As uncomfortable as it may be to have no clear answer, we are wise to follow suit.

Yet as I continue to learn and grow, I'm becoming more and more comfortable with the ambiguity. Of course, there is the danger of falling into the cop-out answer of "God is a mystery," which can become an excuse to not struggle and explore at all. But I must say that I enjoy the process of thinking and learning, despite the lack of solid answers. I've turned away from the need to fit everything in a neat little box, with all loose ends tied up. In the words of my OT professor (whom I will miss greatly): A coffin is a nice wrapped-up box. When we accept "solid" answers, we get rid of the room to change and grow, essentially stifling the Christian faith and making it dead. This is what turned me off from the Bible - the thought that it was a stagnant set of rules, an unchanging handbook for any and every situation. But if we really do believe that God is living and active, then we are willing to let the ambiguities and contradictions remain, knowing that interpretations and perspectives will change over time. They have before, and they will continue to do so.

04.16.07

Today marked the one-year anniversary of the Tech shootings. Being a Virginia native, and a college student at the time of the shootings, it impacted me, although I didn't directly know any of the victims. I still remember the shock when the death count suddenly increased from four to twenty. And the numbness of trying to process it all.

That night, my pastor had emergency gall bladder surgery, so I went to watch his four children while his wife went to be with him. Turns out the organ was filled to the brim with gangrene, and could have exploded and instantly killed him at any minute. It was therapeutic to take care of them, and just be around them and off campus for a bit. After they went to bed, I sat there and flipped through the channels, watching the various news reports. Wendy didn't get home until 11:30, and we spent the next hour just talking and processing everything. Those two events are forever entwined in my memory.

Later that week, we composed some responses in my creative writing class. Mine focused around the state-wide candlelight vigil held that Thursday night. I dug around on my computer and found it; figured it's worth sharing on this day.

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The words that pour out of my ink pen, that emerge from typing fingers, remain disjointed and emotional. Asking question after question, in search of some answer to make sense of everything.

But no matter what I write, nothing can be reversed. They are still gone. And my words seem to add to the constant talking.

Four days later, we stood there. Each holding a flickering candle, creating a glowing circle. Standing with those across the state. Remembering. Mourning.

In silence.

After four days of nonstop talk, of blaring televisions and flashing computer screens and ringing cell phones, we were silent. Even after being officially dismissed, we stood there, not wanting to break that moment.

One by one, a light would go out, and we would see a dark figure slowly walk away. Car doors would open and shut, engines would start, murmuring conversations would pass by. Each a reminder that though we stop to reflect and remember, life still goes on.

Why for me, and not for those who live on only in memory?

I cannot answer that question. I cannot answer any of the questions that continue to flood my mind.

But in those brief moments, I found a peace.

In silence.