Past/Present/Future

I’m not sure I’ve ever had a day quite like yesterday.  Initially I would have called it just a really good day.  However, upon closer inspection I realized that yesterday was a sort of microcosm of my life … a collision of past, present, and future. 

Future:

Yesterday afternoon I visited an old college professor to discuss my future educational plans/goals.  I came armed with my list of questions, thankful for someone with whom I could be honest and transparent about my insecurities and fears.  Said professor gave me an hour of his time, and while I went in somewhat unsure and intimidated by the whole grad school process, I left much more confident and enthusiastic about what the next few years hold.  I am excited about possibly moving to a completely different part of the country, for all the newness around the corner.  I realize lately more and more the fullness of time in regard to this pursuit.  I have said it before, but my heart aches to be back in the classroom.  Much to my delight, I will have that opportunity this next week as I visit my cousin at Wheaton and sit in on fun classes like Principles of Interpretation, Hebrew Exegesis of Haggai/Malachi, and Greek Exegesis of Romans.  Making Chi-town plans with Jayme (including two concerts … yay) yesterday on the drive back from Shawnee only intensified my excitement about not only the next few days, but even more so the next few years. 

 

Past:

After my meeting with Dr. Kelly, I got the chance to be nostalgic.  On my way out of Owens I ran into two more old professors and got to chat for a few minutes.  I walked the halls of WMU, stopping to talk with some of the current RAs.  I visited my old room with its arch window overlooking the oval, and therefore fountain.  I walked through the basement and thought about the sometimes out of the way trips to visit Stacey and then Sydnie on the opposite end of the hall if I didn’t have time for a lengthy visit with Ray, the night security guard.  Walking out of WMU, I remembered the view from my room my freshman year of the sun setting behind Raley Chapel.  I walked through the GC and saw the infamous stairs that led to a broken ankle and six of the hardest weeks of my life.  I ate dinner with my old college roommate at a classic Shawnee joint, and even ran into the parents-in-law of an old friend whose wedding I was in nearly six years ago.  And while I have some good memories, I have some regrets as well.  I didn’t always make the most of college in terms of relationships or class work.  I am a different person now than I was then, which leads me to the present.

 

Present:

Because of dinner with Katie, I made it back to Edmond a little late for church, but in plenty of time for FLOCK prayer.  For awhile now, several people in our small group have felt a need/desire to pray together more often, more than just at meals or before/after a lesson.  We do a pretty good job of devoting ourselves to the apostle’s teaching, the breaking of bread, and to fellowship, but in prayer we could definitely do better.  (Acts 2:42)  So we have begun to meet together after church on Wednesday nights.  Prayer could be its own separate post, but I will say that I am just beginning to learn and see its power and effects.  I am incredibly blessed to pray alongside such amazing people who love and care for our small group and want to see God glorified in all the world.  Anyway, prayer was followed by an intense workout session with my own personal trainer and new friend, Yuli.  She is anxious to put her kinesiology knowledge to use, and I am a more than willing guinea pig!  I’m having just a bit of a hard time walking today after my forty lunges with weights, followed by the question, “Okay, can you do twenty more?”  Um, okay.  It is these things, these relationships and myriad of other opportunities God has brought into my life this semester that leave me amazed.

 

Yesterday I realized that I am blessed to have great memories, but glad not to be the same person today that I was then.  I am content with my life now, deeply satisfied and pleased even.  However, I look forward to the future with a joyful anticipation and excitement, albeit a little nervousness.  So I am thankful for my past, present, and future.  And I am thankful for yesterday and its collision of eras that prompted this reflection. 

It all comes out in Moron.

So I had sort of an epiphany the other day, and if Xanga is good for anything it’s expounding upon epiphanies.  In 11th grade my history teacher told me she thought one of my strongest intelligences (of the seven) was my knowledge of self, and I think she’s probably right.  I tend to be pretty introspective and incredibly analytical in regard to self.  So I was surprised the other day to realize something about myself that had never really risen to the level of conscious thought.  It suddenly hit me that I am incredibly unskilled at male interaction.

 

Now it’s not like I thought I was some grand master with the fellas up until said epiphany.  No, it’s more like I never really gave much thought to it at all.  I have always been a girls’ girl.  I can’t even name one good guy friend I had growing up.  Sure I had a few camp flings and one real boyfriend in high school, but as a whole I just wasn’t around guys in social settings very much.  I had my close girl friends, and I was content.

 

Actually, looking back I suppose I did have a few guy friends in high school … a few college guys from my church.  Youth interns, Sunday School teachers, and ski trip companions: these were my friends.  However, they were not my peers, a point I will bring out more in a moment.

 

My college social experience disappointingly varied little from high school.  I seemed to be really good at developing female friendships (some of which are still best friends to this day) but really deficient when it came to boys.  It didn’t help that I was an RA in an all female residence hall my sophomore and junior year.  Any male interaction outside of class came by way of friends’ friends, boyfriends, or husbands.  I do remember wishing I had guy friends; I just didn’t know how to get them.

 

Graduation came and went, and then thankfully a new job.  Now while job-wise I didn’t move far from my stint as an RA (hall directing an all female residence hall) I did meet two new friends, and much to my delight, they were boys!  Married boys, but still boys nonetheless.  My first year as a hall director I developed very close friendships with those boys, and I learned quite a bit. 

 

About two years ago, I started visiting a church with a fairly large group of 20 something singles (honestly one of the appeals).  It was great to meet people (guys included) my own age (aka, no longer in college) and there were always lots of opportunities for interaction.  I began developing some surface level friend/acquaintanceships with guys.  Yay for Sarah!  However, I still found the interaction difficult and oftentimes awkward.  Why is it that I had so much ease with the married boys, but so much difficulty with the singles?  Aha!  Epiphany!

 

My whole life I have been drawn to male relationships that are “safe.”  In high school it was the college boys.  Now it’s the married boys.  There is so much potential for friendship, because there is no question of relationship.  I don’t have to worry about what they think of me (as I do with guys I’m interested in) nor do I have to worry about unreciprocated feelings (as I do with guys I’m not interested in).  Nice and safe.

 

So currently in my interactions with single males, I tend to behave in one of two awful ways:

1) If I have interest or feelings for the guy, I get obnoxious.  It’s hard to describe, really, but overall I feel like I become immature.  I show off.  I say stupid things.  I try too hard.  On an episode of Gilmore Girls there’s this moment when Rory’s freaking out over this guy she likes and she tells Lorelai that she doesn’t want to “do or say anything else that’s gonna be remotely moronic.”  Lorelai responds, “I’m afraid once your heart is involved, it all comes out in Moron.”  And while I am not sixteen years old, I am equally as susceptible to freak outs and moron-speak.

2) If I don’t have any interest in dating the guy, and if I pick up on any interest on his part, I act cold.  I generally try to act friendly toward everyone, but in the case of those unreciprocated feelings, I have to play the cold card.  See, it’s not like I have the token “Sorry, I have a boyfriend” response ready to dole out.  It has been my experience that the slightest bit of attention you pay to one of these guys will only hurt them in the end.  It encourages their unwelcomed advances.  If I even get the slightest inkling that a guy may like me (and I don’t want him to) I do everything I can to avoid interaction with this person.  Honestly I would rather treat someone coldly as a preemptive measure than have that awkward rejection conversation later on down the road.  Cruel to be kind. 

 

But back to the epiphany … I am socially retarded when it comes to guys.  But I think that there’s a solution.  First of all, I need to grow a back bone.  Yes, there is a time to pull back so as not to encourage further advances from what I call “the ickies.”  However, I need to be much more open to friendships with guys that I’m not really interested in dating.  I think that I’m afraid I won’t have the nerve or tact to turn someone down graciously, and that I might end up leading someone on out of fear of confrontation.  However, there is so much to learn from all sorts of different people, and I am robbing myself of diverse and fruitful friendships.  Second of all, I need to calm down.  I need to quit faking confidence and learn to be confident.  I can’t allow myself to be intimidated by guys I’m interested in.  I know there will always be some inevitable moron-speak, but elevating any person to a level that in turn puts me on a lower level is just ridiculous. 

 

And now comes the hard part.  I can’t look in the mirror and forget what I look like.  Time to embrace my newfound realizations and be open.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

08.25.06

At the end of last semester I enrolled myself in Beginning Tap Dancing for Non Majors and Hatha Yoga for Fall 2006, all courtesy of my lovely employee benefit called the tuition waiver.  However, the more I thought about it over the summer, I felt that while I would thoroughly enjoy a tap class, I would probably benefit a bit more from taking a Greek readings class I noticed on the class schedule for the fall semester.  My Greek skills have fallen into pitiful disrepair, which is particularly pitiful considering that Greek may be what I want to do with my life.   So, in an effort to perhaps prepare for my future, I enrolled. 

Now as time passed, I mourned the loss of my tap class less and less and looked forward my Greek class more and more.  I was super excited come Monday morning … Readings in New Testament Greek, 9:00 AM, Liberal Arts Building room 227.  I felt like a freshman as I walked in a complete circle twice trying to find room 227, which happened to be in a rather obscure little nook.  But I made it … the search only enhanced the anticipation.  However, I get to the class only to find only three other students and no professor.  It turns out that the class had been cancelled.  Ugh, and too late to re-enroll in tap! 

So I began to evaluate the situation and decided that I would maybe try out the Biblical Greek I class later that morning.  The same professor was supposed to teach that one as well, so maybe I could find out something more about the Readings class.  After speaking with Dr. Debolt, it turned out that even though the class had been cancelled, he was planning on meeting with interested students informally to work through selected NT readings.  Which is awesome for me … I could get my $78 in class fees back and still take the class I had intened to take! 

So Wednesday afternoon I meet with Dr. Debolt and one other interested student … our first class meeting.  We basically read through the first fourteen verses of John, and while I was pleasantly surprised at my vocab recall, I was horrified at my form recognition.  I realized the effort that it would take to get back to the level at which I needed to be, and I was discouraged.  However, I wasn’t surprised.  I have picked up my Greek New Testament maybe five times in the past two years.  And let’s face it, I wasn’t that great of a Greek student in the first place.

I began my Greek journey five years ago, sophomore year in Greek I with Dr. Kelly.  I studied hard for my first test and made like a 96, but wasn’t willing to put in the time and effort to keep that up.  It was bizarre … I was so used to having things come naturally and not having to study much to make good grades.  But I don’t care who you are, Greek isn’t like that.  I mean, natural talent and intelligence will help, but only so much as maybe you won’t fail the class if you’re really smart.  Greek takes nuturing.  It takes lots of time and attention.  I still maintain that I wasn’t mature enough to take Greek as a sophomore.  I didn’t realize what it demanded, and once I did, I wasn’t willing to comply with its demands.

So I made a “B” in Greek I.  I worked harder in Greek II, but without the solid foundation I needed, I made a “B” in Greek II.  And while in other classes I could study the night before an exam and pull of an “A,” not in Greek.  Greek III?  “B.”  Greek IV?  “C.”  A “C!”  My only “C” ever … and in my major … pitiful.  I took a Greek Readings class the same semester as Greek IV, and pulled off a B, but barely.  My senior year, I finally realized my love for the language and pulled off an “A” in NT Textual Criticism as well as an “A” in my second go-round with Greek IV. 

However, my good grades could be more indicative of my adaptation to studying better for tests, rather than my actual grasping of the language.  I think it all goes back to Greek I.  Man, if I had only worked harder back then …

So basically, all this is running through my head as I am trying desperately not to sound stupid in my on the spot translation of John.  I realized that while I will certainly benefit from taking the Greek Readings class this semester, I will benefit even more from going back to the basics of Greek I.  I mean, I’m going to have to do it anyway … the question is, do I have the discipline to go back and re-teach myself?  Or should I actually enroll in Greek I so that I have to go to class and study for quizzes and tests?  Is it worth $78 for me to ensure a little outside motivation?  You know, I think it is.  And you know what?  It won’t hurt to show that I took Greek I again … and made an “A.” 

So here I am, enrolled in the same class I took five years ago, finally in the right frame of mind to take it.  I went to my second class today, and I absolutely loved it.  It was such a confirming moment.  I just soaked up every word … things I never knew like the phrase “ephelcistic nu.”  My professor is pretty brilliant.  And hopefully I can make it to some of the Readings meetings … basically free one on one time with a Greek monster … pretty great.  So I realize that this all probably means nothing to anyone except perhaps RegularGoy, but it’s all ultimately for me anyway.  Blessings, all!

07.02.06

Last Sunday night began a new small group for 20 something singles at my church.  The Singles Minister and his wife are opening up their home for a more intimate, discussion oriented FLOCK, which I have been looking forward to for awhile now.  Sunday was a basic introduction to the materials and atmosphere of the group with some get to know you stuff thrown in.  One of the questions Craig asked each of us is what we would like to see come out of the next six weeks …  our intentions for being there.  There were several typical answers (mine included) such as growth, a closer relationship to God, the chance to go to “Sunday School” at night and in someone’s home, but one answer kind of stayed with me.  Craig’s wife said that instead of telling God, or us for that matter, what she felt she wanted/needed from this study, she just wanted to be open to whatever God had in store.  She felt that you couldn’t really go wrong in joining a small group Bible study, because no matter how good or bad we think it is, God transcends it and can accomplish his desires even in spite of poor materials. 

So from all of that I came away with the word “open.”  And here a week later, it’s kind of stuck with me.  I’m not sure I’ve ever really intentionally prayed to be open.  Soon after last Sunday, I got some lyrics stuck in my head … something like “I wanna be open, I wanna be humble” but that was all I had.  I thought maybe it was a song I heard on Air 1 (because although they play music a little more suited to my preference than K-Love, they’re way lacking in variety … it’s nothing to hear the same song five or six times a day, but that’s radio for ya) but wasn’t really sure.  Friday as I was about to put on my Workout Mix playlist and do my BFL cardio, it occurred to me that the song I had been thinking of might be on the new Caedmon’s Call album. 

Now I must say that their latest album is certainly not my favorite of theirs.  I still love Caedmon’s Call … I have for ten years.  They have been innovators and educators; they are thoughtful and intelligent.  I appreciate their vision displayed so artfully in their music.  I worshipped alongside “In the Company of Angels: A Call to Worship” and was excited to hear of the release of their second worship album.  And while every other album of theirs to me has been an easy listen, this one is more of a struggle.  It sounds a bit more commercial/radio friendly than when say they had another band member writing for and performing with them (cough … Derek Webb).  Anyway, all that to say that I only really played the album a few times, mainly in the background while doing other things.  One or two of the songs I remembered, but that was about it.  So on Friday, when it occurred to me that the song I had been humming two lines of for the past week might be on the new CC CD, it took me listening to 45 seconds of each song until I finally found the one I was looking for. 

Let me be openLet me be humbleLet me find the joy of my salvation in Your crossLet me be brokenWhenever I stumbleLet me remember the great mercy of my GodSo I am making that my simple prayer.  Here’s hoping it’s on the set list tonight so I can pray it alongside Cliff and Danielle.

*** EDIT ***

Alas no “Let Me Be,” but I did take this pic!

*** EDIT # 2 ***

Okay, so really the highlight of my night was running into my super smart OBU friend, Emily.  First semester of Civ, I sat in the back with my friends … made a B.  Second semester, I sat in the front by Emily … made an A.  That’s not to insinuate that I cheated; it’s to say that once I surrounded myself with Emily’s brilliant company, my motivation to study and participate in class drastically improved.  That girl got me through Greek 3 & 4, not to mention Greek Readings.  So anyway, I totally lost touch with her after graduation, and since then I have thought several times how I wished I could contact her.  She’s been halfway around the world in Thailand working on her masters’ in linguistics, but she is home for the summer and just happened to be at Caedmon’s Call tonight.  I wouldn’t have even noticed her had Sydnie not said, “Hey, didn’t that girl go to OBU?”  Anyway, yeah for reuniting with old friends.

01.22.06

So I was reading the Xanga of an aquaintance from church who happens to be in seminary, and he had posted a whole essay he had written as an assignment for one of his courses.  So taking a cue from this person, I have decided to post my first assignment for my “Techniques for Teaching Adults” class that’s due tomorrow.  We had to write three paragraphs on our favorite teacher.  (I know what you’re thinking … are you really in graduate school, Sarah?)  So here, for your reading pleasure, is my submission.  Oh, and I have a little assigment for you at the end.

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Throughout my years as a student I was tremendously blessed with good teachers, so it is a difficult decision to settle on one as my “favorite.”  I’ve had teachers who I admired, who inspired me, and who challenged me.  Although personality-wise, I would have to say Dr. Ridenour, who taught me two philosophy courses in college, was my favorite, it was Dr. Kelly who impacted me the most and who I would argue was my best all around professor.  I had Dr. Kelly for seven classes at OBU: Introduction to Ministry, New Testament, Greek 1-4, and Biblical Hermeneutics.  After the hours upon hours of classes together, I feel like I have a good point of reference to offer an opinion on what made him such an outstanding professor. 

What I appreciated most about Dr. Kelly was the scope of his knowledge in the area of New Testament studies.  It was obvious from the first day of class how much he had to offer his students.  He was not tied to one teaching method, but utilized whatever method would best communicate the material.  Dr. Kelly was organized and well prepared; his syllabi were expansive and well researched.  He prided himself on being tough, although sometimes I think this was a result of being the significantly younger of the two New Testament professors; it occasionally seemed as though he had something to prove.  He set high expectations for his students.  In my Greek courses students were accountable for doing translation assignments which he would call on us at random to translate in class.  Although we received grades for our readings, I was motivated more by a desire to impress or at least not embarrass myself in front of Dr. Kelly.  I cherished his praise and appreciated his criticism. 

While possessing the basic qualities of a good teacher, Dr. Kelly also possessed the charisma that makes a great teacher exceptional.  His New Testament Survey classes were always quick to fill up with students eager to learn from the well renowned Dr. Kelly.  Part of me wanted to not like him at first because of his immense popularity.  My respect for him grew, however, based on his natural ability to teach, and his personality only enhanced that ability.  Dr. Kelly was first and foremost authentic.  He was a real person, with interests and a life outside of the classroom.  From his Seinfeld quotations, to his jogging anecdotes, to his scheduling tests during March Madness (so he could go to a game and not cancel class), Dr. Kelly was a well rounded individual.  He often served as interim pastor at churches, and it was easy to see him make the connection between what he taught in the classroom and the real world.  He cared about students and their lives; he occasionally prayed for us before exams.  One semester a student’s father passed away unexpectedly, and that evening Dr. Kelly had him over to his house to spend the night.  The next day he said something along the lines of how on that night it didn’t matter what that student’s grade was or how many times he had missed class; he was just a person in need of comfort.  Overall, Dr. Kelly was passionate about God’s word, and his passion was contagious.  He approached his responsibilities as a teacher with enthusiasm and commitment.  His profound impact on my education qualifies him as “my favorite teacher.”

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 So here’s your assignment: Who is/was your favorite teacher and why?  That’s right, I am officially soliciting comments.  It’s not that hard … you write a name and a sentence.  I have full confidence in you, my fellow Xangans!

10.12.05

I miss learning. 

I have probably learned more about life and myself in the past year and a half than in the previous entire twenty two years of my life, but that’s not the kind of learning I’m talking about.  I miss the sitting in a classroom, taking notes, admiring the brilliance of a mind more developed than mine kind of learning.  Oh, believe me, I heralded my graduation day, and I have thoroughly enjoyed the break.  I still remember breaking down at my grandparents’ dining room table because I had no idea what I wanted to do when I graduated; all I knew was that graduate school was not right for me at that point.  It had been my plan from the time I entered college, but the thought of it at that point filled me with an overwhelming sense of unrest.  I chose my major thinking that maybe I might want to teach someday.  I felt drawn in that direction but with no assured confirmation.  It filled me with fear to think about going to a very expensive graduate school just to find out that I didn’t want to teach – an expensive lesson to learn.  So it was time to wait.

I suppose the word “wait” connotes passivity, and for awhile that was my experience.  I saw myself as “taking a break,” not yet really living my true life – waiting to be what God called me to be.  Sometime last year, however, I realized that I’m not just taking a break.  This is a season of my life that God has called me to just as much as any other.  My real life doesn’t start when I get a “real job.”  The thought is liberating.

So while I am waiting on confirmation of the next step, I will be faithful in what God has given me to do now. 

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I just love it when I actually get to put my major to practical use.  The world of Residence Life doesn’t afford me a lot of opportunities to discuss the tense of a Greek verb and its theological implications.  This afternoon as I was preparing for my college small group Bible study, I was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar name in the notes.  We are studying Ephesians, and this week focused on chapter two which deals with Gentile inclusion in God’s plan for man’s salvation.  The question arises … what part, if any, of the Old Testament is binding upon Christians today?  The prepared materials referenced notes taken from Dr. Kelly’s Hermeneutics class.  It made me smile. 

Biblical Hermeneutics was the single most important and enjoyable class I ever took at OBU.  “What is hermeneutics?” you may ask.  For those of you who want to impress your friends at your next social gathering, you can ever so subtly drop the word and explain that it is the science and art of Biblical interpretation.  Good times … really.

Anyway, the Ephesians notes referenced Dr. Kelly as well as one of our assigned texts for the class, “How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth.”  I busted out my copy (because after my sophomore year, I never sold back a single book) and devoured the chapter on Old Testament Law in preparation for the Bible Study.  I began to miss learning.

My years at OBU were amazing in some ways and awful in others.  I am so grateful for what I experienced, but I know I missed out on some things.  I chose what was comfortable oftentimes over what was beneficial.  I was lazy, and it hurt me socially, intellectually and spiritually.

My freshman year I had a conversation with an OBU grad who encouraged me to “drink deeply from the well of Civ.”  Well, I sipped … and I am all the worse for it.  I sipped in most of my classes, and I regret it.  I did the bare minimum to get ”As” and if an “A” wasn’t in reach, I did whatever it took not to get a “C.”  I lacked the maturity to learn for learning’s sake. 

I suppose that’s the perspective one gets from a year and a half out of school. 

It’s the perspective that makes me miss learning.