Hosanna

Hosanna.  It’s a churchy word.  Perhaps you’ve heard it today, being Palm Sunday and all.  I’ve never really liked the word, mostly because I identify it with some really cheesy praise choruses.  I’ve heard it as an exclamation, like “Glory!” or “Hallelujah!”, and I figure most people don’t even know what they’re saying.  It wasn’t until a few months ago that I developed an appreciation for the word, and over the past couple days that it has become my own cry.

I wrote last about my upcoming impromptu trip to Indiana for the Andrew Peterson Resurrection Letters Easter tour.  Back in October, however, some friends and I heard him play a free show a tad bit closer (only about 30 minutes away) promoting his latest album entitled “Resurrection Letters, Vol. 2.”  He played through the album in its entirety with a short commentary prior to each song.  One song he entitled “Hosanna” and went on to explain how the word is a transliteration from the Hebrew meaning “Save us, now.”  This is what the Jews proclaimed, quoting Psalm 118 as Jesus entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.  Andrew mused that this simple word serves a dual purpose.  First, to cry out, “Save me,” is to admit that I need saving.  But it is also an acknowledgement that Jesus is able to save.  Both confession and praise.

Fast forward to this past Thursday.  As I arrived at the church where the concert was held, they handed out bulletins (okay, maybe I should call them programs; I can’t escape my “churchy” roots) with the order of service, or “set list” if you will.  After a few songs from each of the artists involved with the tour and a short intermission, the show entered into a progression of hymns and songs sung by Andrew and Jill as well as readings crafted by Andrew, tracing the last week of Jesus’ life.  Beginning with Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem, Jill sang “Hosanna” from her album Kingdom Come (which I’ve written about before) followed by Andrew’s song of the same title.  I want to share the words here, since as of late they have become both my confession and praise.  Hosanna.

I am tangled up in contradiction.  I am strangled by my own two hands.  I am hunted by the hounds of addiction.  Hosanna!  I have lied to everyone who trusts me.  I have tried to fall when I could stand.  I have only loved the ones who loved me.  Hosanna!  O Hosanna!  See the long awaited king come to set his people free.  We cry O Hosanna!  Come and tear the temple down.  Raise it up on holy ground.  Hosanna!

I have struggled to remove this raiment, tried to hide every shimmering strand.  I contend with these ghosts and these hosts of bright angels.  Hosanna!  I have cursed the man that you have made me.  I have nursed the beast that bays for my blood.  Oh, I have run from the one who would save me.  Save me, Hosanna!  O Hosanna!  See the long awaited king, come to set his people free.  We cry O Hosanna!  Come and tear the temple down.  Raise it up on holy ground.  Hosanna!  We cry for blood, and we take your life.  Hosanna!  We cry for blood, and we take your life.  It is blood, it is life that you have given.

You have crushed beneath your heel the vile serpent.  You have carried to the grave the black stain.  You have torn apart the temple’s holy curtain.  You have beaten Death at Death’s own game.  Hosanna!  O Hosanna!  Hail the long awaited king, come to set his people free.  We cry O Hosanna!  Won’t you tear this temple down, raise it up on holy ground.  O Hosanna!  I will lift my voice and sing: you have come and washed me clean. Hosanna.

I resolve …

1. To make significant strides toward long term health and fitness.  I won’t elaborate here because I intend to address this one blog-wise in the next few weeks.
2. To take a sabbatical from television.  Over the past few years I’ve watched less and less TV, although this year being back on a student schedule has allowed for much more mindless consumption, especially in the afternoon hours (think Full House re-runs and Family Feud … yeah, I’m not proud).  I don’t want to be ridiculous about this one, however; I plan to follow the spirit of the resolution rather than the letter, especially when it comes to social occasions.  In fact, I am already exempting Thursday nights because LOST is a million times more fun with fellow addicts … ooh, and The Office.
3. To read more fiction.  This flows naturally out of the aforementioned resolution, as I would like to spend more of my free time (haha … fellow Exegesis students laugh with me now) reading for fun.  I would especially love to go back and re-read the books I “skimmed” in high school and college.  I started “To Kill a Mockingbird” over the break in solidarity with my brother who’s about to read it for school this spring.  I had forgotton how incredible it is, and it’s only reinforced my desire to read more.  My junior year of college I went on a “Greek Retreat Weekend” with my Greek Readings professor and about ten other students.  One night at dinner Dr. Roark asked us the first book we remembered reading and loving.  After several people offered their responses, he said something to the effect of, “You don’t get enough real life without reading fiction.”  More than anything Greek related about that weekend, I remember his oxymoronic statement and have since been amused to discover its truth.
4. To give my best effort toward course work.  My first semester back in school after four years off was a good one, but I definitely know I can do better.  Work was especially hard to balance (and I’m sure will continue to be so), but I think with a semester under my belt I am much better prepared to give my best effort this semester.  This will include:  not missing any classes unless decidedly planned in advance, i.e. because of travel, etc.  (However, I will not skip in order to finish homework for other classes or because I forgot to turn my phone – and thus my alarm – off vibrate, as were the few occasions for skipping this semester), actually being early for every class (five minutes is my goal), getting to know and have a good relationship with each of my professors, and finally (and perhaps most importantly) getting research done AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
5. To put myself on a path for significant spiritual growth.  I’m actually collapsing several resolutions into one here.  In so many ways the past semester has been the best of times and the worst of times, and honestly my time with the Lord has often been of the worst category.  It’s not just my “quiet time” that I’m concerned for; I have not sought to walk in the Spirit.  I’ve drunk shallowly and thus lived shallowly, but I am beginning again to crave that intimacy and depth.  Ever since my freshman year  when Richard Foster’s “Celebration of Discipline” was assigned reading in my Intro to Minisitry class, I’ve been unable to escape the book’s opening paragraph: “Superficiality is the curse of our age.  The doctrine of instant satisfaction is a primary spiritual problem.  The desperate need today is not for a greater number of intelligent people, or gifted people, but for deep people.”  I don’t want to fall into a legalistic agenda rewarded by check marks and gold stars; I want to BE different.  BE transformed.  So tangibly, over the following year I would like to:

• Read the bible through chronologically.  It is ridiculous that I am a graduate student in Biblical studies and have yet to read my object of study in its entirety.  For some reason I get sidetracked after making it all the way to Judges; I get through the hard part and then give up and go back to familiar NT passages.  I have started several reading “plans” beginning in middle school and up to this past spring, but have yet to complete any of them.  So hopefully by trying something new (the chronological approach) and by making my goal public, this will be the year.
• Study, but more importantly actually practice the spiritual disciplines.  I want to experiment with those I have been more hesitant to practice and go deeper in those I have more confidence in.  I want to glean wisdom from those who have practiced them both now and well into the past.  I want to become the deep person Foster argues is so desperately needed.
• Attend Wheaton’s theology conference this spring over Spiritual Formation.
• Go on a personal retreat.  After reading this blog a few months ago, I was reminded of this blog I read awhile back, and the combination of the two stirred up a similar desire within myself.  I don’t know what it will look like or when it will happen, but I’ve also felt the call to “Get thee to a nunnery.”

Alright, so those are my five … well, more like ten crammed into five.  I am a lover of lists, especially lists in blog form, so this was a fun one.  What about you, friends … what are your resolutions this year?

My Belated Thanksgiving Post

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  It hasn’t always been so; growing up I was a big fan of Christmas, mostly because of the presents.   However, after I moved away to college, the under-appreciated and overlooked November holiday began nudge its way into my number one spot.  Time with family was suddenly a precious commodity, and Thanksgiving provided the perfect no-pressure (unlike Christmas) excuse for togetherness.  And while we never failed to offer a prayer of thanksgiving before our meal, I think that for many years the meaning of the holiday in some ways eluded us.  A few years ago we started doing the whole “thankfulness circle” thing.  We later added an additional component to the tradition in an effort to infuse humor into what inevitably evolved into a huge cry-fest.  Everyone now shares something serious AND silly that they’re thankful for.  Laughing through the tears makes things a little less awkward.

While I love the quality time with my family (not to mention the food), my favorite thing about Thanksgiving is its reminder to me to be thankful.  Thanking is not an intransitive verb; it requires an object to whom thanks is given.  I need to be reminded to give thanks to the Lord, and for that reason I’m thankful for Thanksgiving.

Over the past couple years, I think I’ve learned a little about this.  I’ve tried to put 1 Thessalonians 5:18 into practice which says to “give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”  It’s not just when things are going good.  IN ALL CIRCUMSTANCES.  Hard.  I certainly have not experienced much suffering in my life, but in what little hardship I have faced (one instance in particular), I found thanksgiving to be transformational.

Anyway, this Thanksgiving was a little different because my grandmother was in the hospital.  It seemed like a lot of things went wrong, but in retrospect I had a lot to be thankful for.  So here is this year’s offering of Thanksgiving thanksgivings … serious AND silly.

• My sweet friend Sharon who got up at 5:00 in the morning to give me a ride to the airport.
• Having a great travel buddy.
• The ability to wear flip flops every day!
• Chick-fil-a.
• My uncle’s truck.  Because my grandmother was in the hospital, our Thanksgiving location changed.  After flying into Amarillo, I had to drive five hours to San Angelo.  I haven’t driven a long way by myself in several months, and I enjoyed the alone time to pray and listen to some albums all the way through.
• JJ Heller and Jill Phillips.  These girls kept me company on my trip.    Seriously, it’s like Jill reads my mind and then expresses my thoughts more beautifully than I ever could … “I can’t explain how weak my conviction is.  How I can make up my mind, but it won’t make a difference.  It’s like I am allergic to solutions that will make any sense.  Just a moth around the fire.  But you’re reaching out your arms of forgiveness.  It’s your usual response, I’m afraid.  After all the things I’ve done you love me anyway.”
• Wide open spaces (cue Dixie Chicks ).  I love my current residence, I really do.  This is the first year I feel like I’ve ever really experienced FALL.  However, there are moments driving across Texas that almost make me cry.    I always break out the Caedmon’s  … “Out on these Texas plains, you can see for a million miles …”
• Unexpected plane ticket assistance from the parents.
• My brother’s excitement about playing the violin, not to mention his noticeable improvement.
• Decent cafeteria food on Thanksgiving day … that’s right, we ate in the hospital cafeteria.  Hey, we didn’t have to prepare OR clean up, though.  And it really was pretty good.
• Getting to meet my cousin’s girlfriend and beating him and my uncle in Rook as her partner!
• The smell of West Texas rain.
• SLIDES!  Hilarity, I tell you, hilarity.  I think my favorite was the picture of my mom in her custom made orchid satin dress with matching chiffon sleeves.  Oh my.
• Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper from Sonic.
• The first Twilight book … read it in two and a half days.
• Jack and Kaye.  I am so thankful that my mom has siblings and that they support one another in taking care of my grandmother.
• Papa John’s stew w/ Texas cornbread (yes, the package specified that it was in fact TEXAS cornbread).
• The sweet nurses in the ICU.
• That Grandmommy made it out of the ICU before I left San Angelo (and is currently doing really well).
• Caring neighbors.  So many people called and stopped by to express their concern for my grandmother.  I met one of her neighbors while out walking, and she was quick to tell me that she and her husband were praying for my grandmother.  They’d never met, but the word was out in this little retirement community.
• Getting to see the ever increasing Lucas family on my way back to Amarillo.  When I asked Molly what she wanted to name her new baby sister or brother, she told me matter of fact,  “Pablo-Uniqua-Piper Lucas.”  I don’t know, something about the Backyardigans and John Piper, I’m told.
• Stacey taking care of me when I got sick at her house.
• Kaye picking me up in Lubbock so I didn’t have to drive back to Amarillo by myself when I was sick.
• My aunt’s huge bathtub.  I almost didn’t get out.  I did, however, finish several chapters of Twilight.
• Watching Dan in Real Life for the umpteenth time with Carlee and Jayme.  “You are a murderer of love!”
• Safe travel all around.  Our flight was delayed coming back, and after landing we spent about an hour just sitting in the plane, but we made it home eventually.  And pretty snow welcomed us back!

The Parable of the Lost Keys

You’ve heard them all.  There’s the parable of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son.  However, today, let me recount for you the parable of the lost keys.

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There was a girl who had a set of keys.  These keys were beloved in they eyes of the girl, for in addition to getting her into her car, her cousin’s car, her apartment, the laundry room in her apartment, her mail box,  and her parent’s home in Texas, they also were fastened together by two favorite key chains.  One key chain was replaceable, yet expensive.  The other cost maybe a couple bucks, however the girl was pretty sure the keychain was no longer for sale.

One day, the girl lost the set of keys.  And while this was a quite a common occurrence for her, this time things were different.  The keys weren’t simply misplaced in her apartment.  They were lost … for real.  The girl looked high and low, retracing her steps from Jamba Juice, across the parking lot to Old Navy, and on a few stores over to Famous Footwear.  She searched dressing rooms, through piles of clothes, and in shoe boxes, all to no avail.  After probably an hour of searching, the girl gave up.  She left her name and phone number with each shop, hoping to someday be reunited with her precious set of keys.

But the parable doesn’t end there.  Thankfully the girl’s cousin had a spare key to her car.  However, on this particular day, the day that the girl lost her keys and thus access to transportation, the girl forgot her cell phone at home.  So not only was she stranded at Old Navy of all places, but she had no way of contacting her only hope for rescue.  Thankfully an Old Navy clerk allowed the girl use of their phone to call the two numbers she actually knew by heart (neither of which was her cousin’s).  The girl tried her mother’s cell phone first, but of course there was no answer.  Who answers their phone to a strange number upon first ring?  The girl then tried the number she’d known since she was a child, and fortunately her father answered.  Unfortunately, however, he did not have the number she needed to get in touch with her cousin.  He did have her aunt’s (and mother of her cousin) cell phone, which he was able to give the girl.  The girl then alternated between calling her aunt and her mother until finally her aunt answered and gave the girl the number she’d needed from the start.  Finally the girl got a hold of her cousin who promised to come quickly and bring the spare key.

But the parable doesn’t end there either!  With spare key in hand (and soon, the ignition), the girl began to drive home.  However, she quickly realized that were she to arrive home, she would have no way of getting into her apartment.  And her only hope of rescue then would be her roommate, who again, she had no way of contacting.  And this time there was no one to call who could give her the number.  Remembering her roommate was currently in German for Reading, the girl made her way to campus, thinking that she’d find the class and hopefully borrow the key from her roommate.  Putting her detective powers to use, the girl looked up the class online and found it met in Blanchard 223.  However, when the girl found the classroom, it was obviously the wrong class.  After poking her head in, she only saw two people who assured her it wasn’t in fact German for Reading.  So the girl gave up that search as well, and settled on sitting outside near her roommates car, hoping to catch her after class and before she left Wheaton for the evening.

For an hour the girl sat outside, enjoying the beautiful fall weather and gorgeous Illinois foliage, and she began to work on a blog retelling her adventurous afternoon.  Eventually her roommate showed, and the two drove to their apartment, inside of which the girl found her cell phone with eight missed alerts, one of which being a classmate she had unconfirmed plans to meet in the library that afternoon.

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In the time I spent waiting for Jayme at Old Navy and then Emily at Wheaton, I remembered two things.  The first is a blog (which you can read here) I read several weeks ago, that at the time I COMPLETELY identified with, and do so even more now.  The pastor who wrote it refers to himself as a loser … of things.  He even blames it on genetics … as do I!  Seriously, I get this forgetfulness/losing things thing from my dad.  Anyway, he writes how of the three “lost” parables in Luke, he personally identifies most with the parable of the lost coin.  “Or what woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and seek diligently until she finds it?  And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’”  He calls that good news and writes, “What a great thing it is to find something.  I’m guessing that my life has had bursts of joy that many of you have never known because you don’t lose things.  Nearly every week there is some moment of ecstasy when I realize that something I thought might be gone for good is still around.”  Well, I certainly have known those bursts of joy, preacher.  Too bad I’m still waiting on said burst for my keys.

The second thing that came to mind was an Andrew Peterson song.  I know, I know, he’s gotten a lot of blog space these days (and may get even more in coming days … I did go to an AMAZING concert of his last week).  Forgive me, but I’m going to share another whole set of his lyrics.  I can’t help it; the song is just too clever … and fitting:

I’d give you all of me to know what you were thinking
And if I had one wish, I’d wish I wasn’t sinking here
Drowning in this well
Oh, can’t you tell

That I can’t pick myself up off the ground
I’ve been face down and pushed aside
Well, you know I’d rather just turn tail and run
Than lie here in the sun
And watch you pass me by
‘Cause I ain’t worth a dime

But if only I could stand up straight
I wouldn’t have to lie and wait
I could up and roll away
And never be ignored
I’ve got a feeling that I’m something more
Than just a piece of copper ore
Turning green and looking for
The reason I was born

I’ve been around since 1964
In banks and bottom drawers
On railroad ties
I’ve been passed around and cast aside
Skipped and flipped and flattened wide
Spun around and thrown away and left alone to lie

But I heard about a penny found
Lying underneath a couch
By a woman who was kneeling down
And looking for some change
Then the woman danced around
And called her friends all over town
And told ‘em what was lost is found
It’s another penny saved

So I find that all this time
Beneath the surface I could shine
Like all the gold a king and queen could measure
You see, even just a penny is a treasure.

Now I’m certainly no biblical expert in parables, but they’re supposed to have a moral, a take away thought, if you will.  Jesus explicitly states the point of all three parables as the rejoicing that occurs in heaven over repentant sinners.  But in the story of the lost coin, there seems to be another layer.  There’s a desperation in the woman’s searching.  She searches until she finds what was lost.  I suppose my parable of the lost keys is somewhat antithetical.  I gave up.  It’s not that I didn’t love my keys; I just didn’t love them enough to spend anymore time on my hands and knees at Old Navy.  I’m glad my God is like the woman looking for her coin and not me looking for my keys.

Blessings and Woes

A few weeks ago I turned in my first grad school research paper.  Considering I haven’t written much else other than blogs these past four years, I was a little nervous about the assignment.  Regardless, I picked a topic and for a solid week did little else but read, highlight, and write … and write and write.  So, I’m sure you can understand my recent lack of blogging motivation.  : )

But, over two weeks have passed and I’m up for it again.  Actually, I wanted to write a little about my paper.  Usually, the second I turn in a research paper, I am itching to turn in my library books.  I cannot wait to have all evidence that a research paper occurred out of sight and out of mind.  And while I still am not “Little Miss Research,” this paper seemed to stick with me unlike any other I had written.

I think that picking a research topic can often be the most difficult part of the process.  My assignment was to trace a theme within one of the synoptic gospels, and initially I thought I might do something with Mark, either “kingdom” or “hiddenness.”  I was interested mainly because Mark is the shortest and we’d already gone over it in class.  Everyone I talked to, however, seemed to be thinking along similar lines.

The week before the paper was due Dr. Perrin lectured on Luke.  Towards the end of class, he split us into small groups and had each one read a different passage having something to do with the poor and then discuss the groups associated with the poor (lame, blind, etc.)  There were plenty of passages to go around.  My group read from Luke’s “Sermon on the Plain.”  Most people, even unchurched, have heard of Matthew’s “Sermon on the Mount,” or at least have heard the phrase “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”  However, what do you do with Luke who simply says “Blessed are you who are poor”?  Not sure I ever heard a sermon preached on that one.

Walking out of class that night, I changed my topic.  I hadn’t done any research yet anyway, so I made a decision.  I was going to write about the theme of “The Poor” in Luke.  The strange thing for me is that I rarely feel like I pick my research topics.  I may have some broad idea about what I’m going to write about, but once I get into it, things seem to change.  I went in thinking I would write about the poor, did all the research to that end, and ended up writing about the rich.  As I read more and more on the topic, it became more and more personal.  Rather than writing objectively about the ethical implications of Jesus’ apparent preference for the poor, I wrote personally about the ethical implications of the possession and dangers of wealth.

I don’t want this to be a Cliff’s Notes of my paper, so I’ll leave out the summarizing.  I’ll just say that after completing the paper, I still have a lot to think about.  I never considered myself rich, so I’m not sure Jesus’ stories and direct address (“Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.”) ever really spoke to me before.  However, as I read through Luke on this occasion, I saw myself reflected in the rich man, not Lazurus, in the rich young ruler, not the poor he was told to sell his goods to help.

I quoted Andrew Peterson the night I turned my paper in … the most writing I could muster at that point.  : )  His words so beautifully capture the point.  It’s not that there’s some inherent goodness in poverty or some inherent evil in wealth.  The poor are blessed because they know what it is to be in need.  They are in a spiritually enviable position in that “their economic misfortune render(s) them more responsive to the will of God.  Their daily hunger and grief h(o)ld them close to the prerequisites of the kingdom.”  (Okay, I had to get in one paper quote there … from Thomas Hoyt Jr.’s article “The Poor/Rich Theme in the Beatitudes” if you’re interested.)  Not to mention the fact that in the age to come there will be an end to their need.

Jesus speaks woes to the rich not because money is bad but because it’s easy to find our security and consolation in the world.  Like Andrew sings, I, too, am shackled by the comfort of my couch.  But the funny thing about woes is that they’re not actually condemnations.  They’re warnings.  It’s as though Jesus is saying, “Wake up!  Quit trusting in yourself and in your stuff and realize you have NOTHING apart from me!  Help those in need because I have blessed you to do so.  Glory in me, not in your possessions.”

The night before my paper was due, I had an interesting conversation with a man at the gas station behind my apartment.  We both approached the checkout counter at the same time, and he gestured for me to go first.  I stepped up to pay for my Dr. Pepper when the guy interjected, “Just buying lottery tickets.”  I think I might have smiled or said, “Oh,” my mind on getting out of there to get back to writing my paper when he piped up again, “Hope I win.”  He went on to tell me that he’d won $10,000 recently but that it was already gone.  I found this interaction a little ironic considering my paper topic.  I usually just nod and smile whenever strangers talk to me, but I thought I’d engage this man considering my paper and all.  “Yeah, I don’t think the track record’s too great on the people who win the lottery.”  To which he responded, “Yeah, you know money carries with it a kinda curse, but you know what?  Give me the curse.”  I gave an obligatory chuckle and walked back to finish my paper.

The dangers of wealth are almost inescapable.  We’re so culturally conditioned to think materially and selfishly, not eterally.  I would challenge you to read Luke with fresh eyes.  It’s amazing how much Jesus has to say about these issues.  Perhaps you’ll come away with a new or revived interest in helping the poor.  Or perhaps you’ll see a need for repentance as I did and still do.

Best Quote of the Day (Yesterday, Actually)

“The Christian life is the easiest thing in the world, unless you read your Bible.” – Dr. Perrin

“We’re gonna make it to the church on time …”

Let me tell you about my future family tradition.  Years from now when/if I have a husband and children, we are going to have a Sunday morning car ride theme song.  I found said song a few years back tucked away at the very end of a collaboration album between Ben Harper and the Blind Boys of Alabama.  “Church on Time” is fun, peppy, and the perfect antidote to often stress/strife filled Sunday morning family car rides.

On this particular Sunday morning, however, no amount of Ben Harper was getting me to the church on time.  I have never been as late to church as I was today.  55 minutes!  A personal record.  I once was about 45 minutes late, but that was because I had no ice scraper and had to wait for a one inch thick sheet of ice to thaw off my windshield.

The plan today was to meet up with some of my Oklahoma friends at Willow Creek.  My friend Jamie is in town visiting me and her friend Devon who interns there, so Willow was the natural choice.  I got up just a little bit late and left my apartment about 15-20 minutes later than I had intended.  Then it was raining.  Then, ironically enough, I hit ridiculous traffic courtesy of another mega-church on my way to the mega of all mega-churches.  The directions I got off MapQuest might have been the shortest route, but they were by no means the most efficient.  Stoplights galore and flooded intersections contributed to the lateness, all of which really should have only put me about 25-30 minutes behind schedule.  However, stupid MapQuest instructed me to turn left at one point when I should have turned right, and I ended up in a completely different suburb.  I eventually turned around and happened upon Willow just as I was about to stop for directions.  I got maybe the last ten minutes or so of the sermon, met up with my friends and had a fun hang out afternoon.

While it seems that nature and a host of other things were conspiring against me today, that’s usually not the case.  Usually I’m just late on my own accord.  The last church I went to for several years had a countdown screen displayed in the sanctuary prior to the beginning of service.  I seriously had been going to this church for over a year before I heard someone mention the countdown and had no idea what they were talking about.

The church I’ve been visiting since moving here actually has a count-up!  There’s a little screen outside the sanctuary that counts up the time that has passed since the service began with a message that says something about being courteous as you enter.  This I have seen.

Now yes, I do tend to run late to all sorts of things.  But it seems like when it comes to church, I am late without fail, sometimes ridiculously so.  Why is it that I am usually on time for class and work, but punctuality is the exception rather than the rule when it comes to church?  I would say that it has to do with the range of consequences.  If you’re late to work enough times, you might get fired.  If you’re late to class enough times, it could affect your grade.  If you’re late to church, what?  You have to face the shame of the “count-up”?  That’s not really enough motivation for me to be there on time.

I know, however, that when it comes to church, it’s not about what’s going to happen as a result, it’s about what’s NOT going to happen.  Worship isn’t going to happen.  Yes, I might get there for the last song or at least to hear the sermon, but in that case, what have I really offered to God?  In my New Testament Theology class this past week (soon forthcoming blog on the start of school ) Dr. Perrin talked about the point of the Exodus being worship.  What does Moses tell Pharaoh that God has commanded? “Let my people go, that they may hold a feast to me in the wilderness.”  (Exodus 5:1)  Again and again, Moses repeats the refrain of the Lord, “Let my people go, that they may serve me.”  Dr. Perrin made the argument that worship is our highest calling, and yet how many forsake the worship gathering of believers each week?  I do believe that worship isn’t limited to a building or even a gathering of people.  However, why would I ever not prioritize the absolute privilege of such a gathering, when, unlike the Jews in Egypt, I am gloriously free to do so?

It’s not about my “getting something out of it.”  It’s not about me at all.  It’s an offering.  It was the purpose of the Exodus and by extension the purpose of all mankind.  My purpose.

So for next week, I have two goals.  I want to worship.  I want to ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name.  I want to bring an offering and come before him.  I want to worship the LORD in the splendor of his holiness.  (1 Chronicles 16:29)  Yeah, and I don’t want to see the count-up.

Whatever It Takes

Humor me, but I’ve got one more running post for you guys.

Actually, “training” is a better word. I’ve got one more training post for y’all.

I’ve had a week without running to rest, recuperate, and reflect on the marathon and the five months of training leading up to it. It’s been a nice break, but I must say that it felt good to put my running shoes back on and get a few miles in yesterday. I’ve even started thinking about my next big race … perhaps a half marathon this fall in Chicago? I have realized that I do best when I have a set goal with a clear plan of how to accomplish it. Next race day? September 14th. Training starts? June 23rd.

Last semester, long before Jamie volunteered to train and run the marathon with me, we were engaged in another sort of training together. We met weekly for the purpose of spiritual encouragement and accountability. We both had the desire to memorize scripture contextually and were already working through Philippians when marathon training started. In keeping with the whole idea of “training” we decided to set spiritual as well as physical goals that were to culminate on April 27th. And while we both crossed the finish line that day in terms of the marathon, our audacious reading and memorizing goals were left behind at mile two.

When we first began training and I pictured marathon day, I pictured the shirt I would run in. On the front, of course, would be my number. On the back, however, I wanted two things. “26(.2) miles in my 26th year” and “…train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come. 1 Timothy 4:7b-8″ As race day drew near, however, I didn’t feel like I could put those verses on my back. I could mentally assent to their truth, but my course of training did not show that was what I really believed. I made the sacrifices of time and effort to discipline and train my body for a 26.2 mile race, and come race day, I was ready. However, my training for godliness was sporadic and often shallow, and on race day, I wasn’t much further than when I started.

I am convinced that almost anyone can run a marathon. People of all shapes, sizes and ages cross that finish line. I used to see these people and think, “Really? You just ran a marathon?” It all comes down to training. If someone is willing to put in the time and effort to train and train well, then she can run the race … and finish. Hardly anyone, however, can just get up one morning and decide to go out and run twenty six miles. Determination and effort without training can only carry you so far.

There’s a book I have yet to read whose title captures for me the spiritual side of training: “A Long Obedience in the Same Direction: Discipleship in an Instant Society,” by Eugene Peterson. I love that … a long obedience in the same direction. I want to be a disciple of Jesus Christ, but I oftentimes don’t want to work at it. I want to be perfect now. I want to say the right things at the right time. I want to behave appropriately always. I want to have self control. I want to be giving and unselfish. I want to snap my fingers and have all of this perfected in me instantaneously. I forget that it is in training, in hardships, in time and in pain that God “molds me and makes me after his will.” I want to work out only when I feel like it and then expect to run a marathon, but it doesn’t work that way.

I feel that my “bodily training” success has paved the way for success in “training in godliness.” I’ve learned that there are no short cuts. If I try to avoid the “hard” or the pain, I’ll only end up weak and shallow. It’s not always exciting or pleasant, but it’s always worth it. Awhile back, I read a Kate McDonald blog about her infant son’s temper tantrums. She wrote about how even at 14 weeks, Cohen thought he knew what was best and would rail against “tummy time.” She writes, “HE doesn’t know that to be able to walk, he needs to crawl and that to be able to crawl, he needs to learn to hold up his head and chest … which is why I am laying him on his tummy in the first place. It made me think about my life … and about God. God must chuckle at my twisting and turning and screaming about wanting my way and think, ‘really, Kate? Really? You are so sure you know that you know what you need, aren’t you?’ It was a small epiphany that left me thinking long after the little man had (finally) dozed off, worn out from his vain toiling. I found myself saying, ‘God, whatever it takes for me to walk … all of the stretching and discomfort … help me to quit fighting the things you have set in motion in my life to help me grow …’”

Hmm … whatever it takes for me to walk … or run. That’s a scary prayer to pray. However, it’s a prayer that will hopefully carry me beyond mile two and on to twenty six.

I may not have bested Oprah, but I beat the pants off Katie Holmes!

Well, my Facebook countdown has come to an end, and with it the culmination of nearly five months of training. And since my body is currently good for pretty much nothing else, I figure I’ll type up some of yesterday’s highlights.

Rain, Rain, Go Away
I woke up yesterday morning (at 3:50 AM) to cool weather, which is optimal for a marathon. Rain, however, not so much. According to the news, rain was supposed to pass through the metro but be gone by 4:00 AM. Well, nature was a little late, because it started raining at 5:15. I wouldn’t so much have minded running in the rain as much as waiting in it. We stayed in the car as long as possible to avoid a soggy start, barely leaving in enough time for a porta-potty visit before the gun went off. We had to sneak in through a barrier (following some cute boys) to take our starting point. Thankfully it didn’t rain that long or hard, and honestly I’d take cool, wet weather over heat any day.

The Mickey Mantle Bridge
As I was running yesterday, I had to keep reminding myself to take everything in. It’s so easy to get caught up in yourself or just stare at the person in front of you that you forget that you’re running by some of OKC’s most interesting and beautiful landmarks. One of my favorite visuals from yesterday was the run over the bridge on Mickey Mantle Drive. We were just a mile in, on our way through Bricktown, when a left turn put us face to face with our first huge hill. More than a sense of dread, however, I was overwhelmed with a sense of community as I saw the hundreds of runners all crowded in together, bouncing up and down as they scaled the daunting hill. It looked like every picture of a marathon I’ve ever seen, runners of all shapes and sizes, dressed in all colors, all working toward the same goal.

Mile Six Surprise
My parents and brother were in Baltimore this weekend at an awards banquet for my brother, so my aunt, uncle, and cousin decided to come and cheer me on. They drove in from Amarillo that morning (left at 1:00 AM) and got there just before the race began. However, we didn’t get to see each other before the start, and I was worried I wouldn’t see them until it was all over. However, right before the first relay exchange, I heard someone call out my name and saw my uncle wearing a bright orange Wheaton Thunder sweatshirt! Then I saw Carlee a little bit ahead dutifully documenting the day with her camera. Then I heard Kaye’s voice cheering from across the street and looked over to see a sign saying, “Run, Sarah, Run!” I can’t describe how much it means to have people you love come encourage you during a marathon. My sweet family was a huge blessing.

Under Construction
One of the best things about the marathon is the aid stations. Unlike on long run training days, you don’t have to worry about where to put your water/Powerade/pretzels/bananas; they’re right there for you about every couple of miles. Jamie and I made a point to at least drink a sip or two of water or Powerade at every stop. I was most looking forward to mile eight, because my friend Melissa was volunteering there at the Chesapeake aid station. Their theme was “Under Construction” (since Chesapeake is just that), and sure enough, there was Melissa in her cute little hard hat cheering me on as she handed me my Powerade.

When the Going Gets Tough …
If I could use one word to sum up running, that word would indeed be “fickle.” Some days are good, some are bad, and it’s difficult to predict what kind of day you’re going to have. Now while I wouldn’t say that yesterday was a bad running day, I will say that it got hard a lot earlier than expected. On our long run training days, I noticed the difficulty dramatically increase right at the point just past where we had not yet trained. I figured the last six miles would be particularly difficult since the longest we had run in our training was twenty. Imagine my surprise when I felt a sharp change in difficulty not at mile 20, but at mile 9. That’s when I noticed the blisters. I think my toes got a little wet as I accidentally hit some puddles early on, so by mile 9 my legs were fine, but my toes were screaming. I can’t say that I exactly forgot about the pain as much as I learned to deal with it. It was just a little disappointing; nothing like that had happened on any of our previous long runs.

Celebrating the Half … with a Hill
After the long flat stretch on Britton, Jamie and I were greeted by a honking Daniel just as we reached the halfway point. Just under a balloon arch hung a huge banner that said, “ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY, HALF WAY THERE!” It was a great encouragement, that is until we saw the huge hill just a few yards behind it. But up and over we went, and just beyond the hill was Lake Hefner. Now while Lake Hefner is beautiful, it is also synonymous with wind. Add to that the fact that we had to run north into it while watching everyone in front of us run south with the wind at their back, because they’d already passed the turn around point. That had to be the one of the most disheartening moments! But then we hit that far north point too and soon had the wind at our backs as well.

Daniel … My Sock Hero!
While we were on the Hefner trail, all of the sudden we hear Daniel yelling at us from the fence. Much to my delight, he is right by Jamie’s car which happened to have a bag of my stuff in it. Remembering the extra pair of fresh clean socks I had packed away, I asked Daniel to retrieve my pretty polka-dotted pack so I could make the switch. He graciously obliged and took arm-stretch self portraits with Jamie while I changed. I wish I could say they made all the difference, but I’m not really sure the new socks were worth the time we wasted. However, the break was beneficial considering we soon faced more wind as we rounded the other side of the lake near Stars and Stripes Park. We were encouraged yet again, though, as we saw Rich at the relay exchange point just before mile 17.

The Twizzler from Heaven
This might be for me the highlight of the marathon. On our longer training runs, Jamie and I would refuel on bananas and pretzels in addition to drinking Gatorade. Just after mile 17, I saw a woman standing holding a tray of Twizzlers, offering them to runners passing by. Now this wasn’t an aid station, and she didn’t look very official or anything, so I’m not sure what possessed me to take it. Something about the thought of a Twizzler at that very moment however, seemed absolutely perfect. It was the weirdest thing, but the combination of taste and texture made it the best marathon snack ever. It may seem ridiculous, but other than crossing the finish line, I think that Twizzler was the best part of the marathon.

Be Strong and Courageous
In addition to looking forward to aid stations, Jamie and I also looked forward to mile markers. Awhile back I got the idea from Kristin Armstrong’s blog to read a different verse at every mile of the marathon. Jamie took the odds, and I took the evens. Of course I waited until the night before to select and write mine out, putting me to bed about an hour later than I had intended. However, I figured that my lost sleep wouldn’t compare to the encouragement and strength that was to flow out to us the next day through those words. At mile 18, I read “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9″ I always tried to read mine as loud as possible so as to encourage those around us as well. Some middle aged guys said something about how neat it was that we were doing that, and another guy showed me his LiveStrong-esque bracelet imprinted with Joshua 1:9. Of course, I littered my little notecards after I was done with each of them, but as my friend Michelle noted, God’s word does not return void! (Seriously, though, I would not have littered except for the fact that with all the cups and all it is a totally acceptable practice on marathon day!)

Mile 20: Sweet Friends and a Drive-by Honking
I’ve always heard that a marathon really starts at mile 20. Well, if that’s true, I was incredibly blessed to have a whole slew of friends start me off! I was so excited to see EB, Angela, Meagan, and Shelly at the last relay exchange. There were a ton of people gathered around at that point, and it meant so hear voices above the crowd cheering specifically for me. Plus, I was looking for someone I could hand off my jacket to. EB saved the day! Then, not even a mile later, I heard honking as we crossed over I-44, and Stacey was driving by cheering and taking pictures. It was a great start to the last 6.2.

Mocha Says Run!
Right at mile 21, there was my family again, a much needed encouragement at an increasingly difficult point in the race. There is a distinct difference in the picture Carlee took at mile 6 in comparison to the one at mile 21. The race grew tedious, especially on that long Classen stretch. Our aid station walking grew from 10-15 seconds (just enough to swallow a few sips of water/Powerade) to a minute or more as we tried to psyche ourselves up for more running. (I saw we, although I don’t think Jamie needed quite as much psyching as me.) Thankfully, Stacey came out of nowhere again, this time with a sign, and proceeded to tell me what a soldier I was. Then my family drove by honking as my aunt held their Yorkie out the window yelling, “Sarah! Mocha says run!” That got some laughs from the runners around us.

Heritage Hills … Emphasis on the “Hills”
The last portion of the race runs through Mesta Park (Stacey’s ‘hood) and Heritage Hills. Now while the houses and landscaping are incredible, the hills are killer. Plus the fact that the course has you run from 18th all the way to 13th only to have you turn around and run all the way back to 18th before you can turn south one last time. While I think almost all of our walking was solely at aid stations, I broke down and told Jamie we needed to walk a little just before mile 25. And then once we did start running again, I felt one of the blisters on my toe pop. At this point my body was used to ignoring the pain, so after a few “ow, ow, ow, ows” I was able to press through. I think Jamie was a little concerned at my outcry, but probably relieved to hear it was just my blister and not some major muscle spasm.

No Holding Back
With the end almost in sight, we agreed to no more stops. Not even for a sip of water at the last aid station. It was so hard to believe that after over four and a half hours of running, we would soon be done. We made it out of Heritage Hills and finally hit the last stretch on Broadway with the end actually in sight. However, that sight could not have seemed any farther away. Jamie went ahead and picked up the pace, and I did my best to keep up. Watching that clock count up and knowing that on the other side a t-shirt, medal, massage and hamburger were waiting was plenty of motivation to give every ounce of energy I had left. We crossed the finish line with a gun time of 4:45:03 and a chip time of 4:43:34.

The Coveted Green Shirt
A little after mile 18, I saw someone holding a sign that said “GREEN SHIRTS 8 MILES FROM HERE” and I knew exactly what it was talking about. Three years ago when I first did the marathon relay, I saw several people wearing these forest green shirts that said “FINISHER” on the back of them. I soon found out that these were only for those who ran the entire marathon, not the relay or half marathon participants. While I had no aspirations of ever running a marathon at that point, I did have a spot in my heart for those shirts. So this year, I knew what lay behind the finish line just for me! Even more than my medal, I will treasure my green shirt.

My Once a Year Fling with Carl’s Jr.
I have eaten at Carl’s Jr. exactly four times in my life. I actually find their advertising kind of offensive which doesn’t exactly scream out “appetizing.” However, once a year, I cave in and eat a post-race burger. And let me tell you, it’s good stuff. Ooh, and this year they had El-Fudge cookies, too. After I had gotten my free massage and eaten my hamburger, my family was ready for Ted’s. I honestly think half of the reason they drove all the way from Amarillo was to eat at Ted’s. So we ate, and I drank my first Dr. Pepper in over a month, and it was the perfect end to an incredible day.

So those are the highlights. You can go here for pictures. When I first began training, it was so that I could say that I ran a marathon … a one time thing with no aspirations of becoming a “marathoner.” I really don’t know if I’ll ever run another one, but just the fact that I’m even considering it with as sore as I am today leads me to believe that I probably will. I do still have Oprah’s time looming out in front of me …

2T47

Please Please Please (Don’t) Let Me Get What I Want

A friend of mine recently found the time to blog amidst the craziness of a camp she directs, so I felt a little inspired.  RAs are here.  We’re right in the middle of training.  Students move in Saturday.  Most days I’m working from 8:00 AM until midnight or later, but today I am taking time to write.

The other day I was reminded of The Smiths song, “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want.”  (Before anyone gets to thinking that I’m more hipster than I am, I have to admit that I only know of The Smiths through a quick reference on Gilmore Girls and by the aforementioned song on the “Pretty in Pink” soundtrack.)  I was reading through Psalm 106 which basically recounts the history of the Israelites, and verses 14 and 15 caught my attention.  “But they had a wanton craving in the wilderness, and put God to the test in the desert; he gave them what they asked, but sent a wasting disease among them.”  After God delivered the Israelites out of Egypt, he led them in the desert for 40 years, sustaining them with a miraculous food, manna, that no one had ever known before.  Exodus 16:31 describes its taste as like wafers made with honey.  God fed the Israelites in this way, but for some of them, it wasn’t enough.  They cried out and complained for meat.  They longed for Egypt where they had plenty of meat and variety, reasoning that the slavery God delivered them from was better than the blandness, monotony, and harshness of desert life.  The Lord granted their request saying, “You shall not eat just one day, or two days, or five days, or ten days, or twenty days, but a whole month until it comes out at your nostrils and becomes loathesome to you because you have rejected the LORD who is among you and have wept before him, saying, ‘Why did we come out of Egypt?’”  (Numbers 11:19-20)  Numbers goes on to say in verse 33, “While the meat was yet between their teeth, before it was consumed, the anger of the LORD was kindled against the people, and the LORD struck down the people with a very great plague.”

In reading these passages, I couldn’t help but be thankful that the Lord doesn’t grant my every wish, whim, or desire.  Over the past few months, I have experienced more disappointment than at any other time in my life.  Back in March I was accepted into grad school, which was certainly not a disappointment.  However, a big part of my being able to begin in the fall was getting the grad assistantship for which I had applied that in essence would make things affordable.  Things looked really good.  I moved from phone interview, to on-campus interview, always feeling like it was the right thing for me, that this was what God had placed on my heart.  The timing seemed perfect.  I had such a renewed longing to learn, and this opportunity to continue working with students in residence life, except minus many of the administrative headaches I currently face, seemed perfect as well.  As I returned home from the interview, I was excited and filled with anticipation of what the next year would bring.

About a month later (much longer than was initially conveyed to me) I got the rejection call.  It’s hard to explain what I felt, exactly.  I was disappointed, but I somehow knew it was right.  As much as I was ready to move on, way in the back of my mind, that place I rarely visit or allow to visit me, I knew there were things to take care of here and now.  It certainly wasn’t my preference or desire, but it was what it was, and I dealt with it.

Add to the complicated mix my first real relationship since high school.  Honestly, some of the hurt over the GA rejection was lessened by the fact that I had a boyfriend.  A close friend of mine, upon hearing about the rejection, reasoned that perhaps God was keeping me here for that very reason, so that I could have more time to get to know and grow closer to my boyfriend.  I believe that God has a million reasons for moving as He does, so I try not to assign neat and tidy interpretations to my life’s circumstances.  However, her words had crossed my mind long before she ever verbalized them.  I remember thinking not long before the GA rejection, that the worst thing that could happen to me would be not getting the grad assistantship and thus not starting grad school in the fall and for me and my boyfriend to break up.  One without the other would be fine, but to not have either would be devastating.  Now I realize that there are much worse things that can happen to a person, but in my mind and heart, these two things were my greatest earthly desires. 

Three weeks exactly after the rejection phone call, I was once again rejected, this time by the boyfriend.  Suddenly, I felt a much bigger loss concerning grad school.  It was as though I hadn’t allowed myself to grieve that disappointment, and it was now so much more incredibly real.  And it wasn’t just school; I was heartbroken over the loss of a relationship unlike any other I had known.  In my entire life, I have known two people I would consider as having marriage potential.  One of them married someone else, and the other broke up with me.  Strangely enough, however, just like the GA rejection, something in me way down deep knew that this too was right. 

I’m not sure that that knowledge made things any easier at first.  This was disappointment on a level that I had not known.  However, one of the first thoughts that came to my mind was Psalm 34:18 which says, “The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”  And while the purpose of this blog is not to recount the breakup aftermath, I will say that the Lord was close.  Perhaps closer than He’s ever been.  And that alone made the painful experiences worth it.

So here I am, months later, with a little more perspective, and all I can say is praise God that He didn’t give me what I wanted.  I wouldn’t change a single thing about the way things have transpired.  I am fully confident that His ways, His plans, His purposes are best.  Best, not just good.  Going to grad school would have been a good thing.  Dating a fellow seeking believer was a good thing.  But neither were the best thing.  I could use this space to list the several reasons I think God allowed things to happen as they did, but they don’t really matter.  All that matters is that God is good, and His rule and reign is good, and if He allows me to participate in that kingdom, that also is exceedingly good. 

So my prayer is that God would purify my desires so that they become His desires.  But until then, please, please, please don’t let me get what I want.

Someday when I’m a professor …

I recently discovered a rather obscure television channel airing Designing Women reruns each day at 6:00 and 6:30.  While I haven’t had much time to watch TV lately, over the past week or so I’ve caught a few episodes, much to my delight.  I have such great memories of watching the show with my mom and quoting its best lines with my friend Tracy.  (“And that, Marjorie, just so you will know, and your children will someday know, is the night, the lights, went out, in GEORGIA!”)  For some reason, DW has not been released in entire season DVD sets.  Alf, they think we need on DVD, but not Designing Women.  So, episodes in syndication are a special treat for me, because I can’t watch them any time I want.

Tonight aired one of my very favorite episodes called “How Great Thou Art.”  One of the things I love best about the show is its propensity for addressing social issues such as world hunger, AIDS, and in this particular episode, women in ministry.  One of the characters, Charlene, comes to find out through her attendence of a multi-denominational church conference that her Southern Baptist minister had some pretty strong views about the role of women within the church.  She invites him over for dinner with her coworkers as well as Bernice, an elderly friend with a self proclaimed “arterial flow problem.”  The after dinner conversation begins as a battle of the proof-texts between Reverand Nunn and Bernice, who learned much of her theology from her minister father.  However, Bernice soon brings up issues of historical context and problems within the KJV translation concerning women.  The last time I saw this episode I thought to myself, “Someday, when I am a professor, I will use this clip to spark conversation amongst my students.” 

Now while I by no means have all my beliefs worked out concerning the role of women within the church, I do think some things like Sheri Klouda’s departure from Southwestern Seminary are just ridiculous, and heartbreaking for that matter.  In seeking grad school/seminary advice from my college professors, a resounding encouragement I get is to seek out schools that support women in their educational pursuits as well as future career goals.  My desire is to let Scripture — throroughly studied and hermeneutically applied — speak and not tradition, modern day culture, or my own personal preference.  Quite a task there.

So obviously, blogging has been on the back burner for awhile.  Preparing for Saturdate took a lot of my time and energy, but now that it’s over I want to return to my love of blogs!  Too bad RA training begins tomorrow, and along with it the craziest month of the year for me.  I’ll just have to make the time … I have thoughts … and I want to share.  I started a blog the other night, but it started to get crazy long, so I’ve decided to break it up and make a series.  So get ready there, my friends.  Soon comes Sarah’s series entitled, “The Kingdom of God.”

20 Questions for 2006

A friend passed this on to me as a great way to reflect on the past year, so I thought I’d share.

What was the best CD you got? (purchased or burned)

Hmm … probably the most difficult question on here!  I have really grown to love The Flaming Lips this year, so perhaps At War with the Mystics.  Although not my favorite upon first listen, I have grown to really appreciate Jill Phillips’ Nobody’s Got It All Together as well. 

 

What was the best book you read?

For Christmas I got my dad a book called 501 Must Read Books and after flipping through it, I am completely and utterly ashamed of my lack of reading.  I want to be a reader!  I started Anna Karenina this summer, but had to turn it back into the library before I finished it.  The best book that I read from start to finish within the past year would have to be Don Miller’s Blue Like Jazz.

 

What was the best movie you saw at the theater?

I’m cheap when it comes to movies, so I hardly ever go.  I check out movies from the library or from Randy’s on Thursdays.  I’m trying to even remember movies I saw in the theater … none worth mentioning.

 

Favorite quote you heard in 2006:

I might have heard this in late 2005, but “There are two great lies that I’ve heard:  ‘The day you eat of the fruit of that tree, you will not surely die.’ And that Jesus Christ was a white middle-class Republican, and if you wanna be saved you have to learn to be like Him.”  Derek Webb, from “A King & A Kingdom”

 

Friends you made this year?

Ben, Michelle, a few more church friends, new RAs, new boss, new residents

 

Friends you lost this year?

Hmm … I can really only think of two: Katrina and Robin.  Why does everyone have to graduate and get married?  These were two of my RA girlies I’d had from the beginning, and I shed a tear or two when they left.

 

Something you learned about yourself:

Haha.  Read this.

 

Favorite summer memory:

Taking Jayme to The Fray … her first concert ever.

 

Favorite Spring memory:

Watching Jayme catch Tony Parker’s shoe at the Spurs game we were at over spring break.

 

Favorite holiday memory:

Hmm … throwing up Christmas day?  No, it would have to be the vast amount of quality time spent with my family.

 

TV show you watched the most:

It would have to be a toss up between Gilmore Girls and LOST.  I never miss an episode of GG, and I usually put on old seasons while I’m cleaning my apartment or doing laundry.  However, over the course of 2006, I watched the first two full seasons of LOST as well as the six episode opener of season 3.

 

Something you learned about God:

To quote Jill Phillips, “But You’re always right on time.”  Seriously, I have never been surer of His perfect timing than over the course of the past year. 

 

Coolest clothing item you purchased:

Well, I did buy a pair of Ralph Lauren jeans for $5 at a thrift store in Abilene over the summer.  Although I just bought this last week, (technically not 2006) I did see it this past fall and really, really wanted it: 

Best toy, electronic device, etc you got this year:

Um, no question there.  My iPod, hands down.  (Actually, I think I got it at the end of last year, but it still reigns as best toy.)

 

What news event stuck out to you most this year?

Like reading, I have a similar guilt about not keeping up with current events.  However, I would have to say that the event that most impacted me the most this year was the murder of Jamie Bolin.  It felt like something from a movie.  I actually read a little of her murderer’s blog which made it even more bizarre.

 

What song would be your theme song for 2006?

Jill Phillips – “Daily Bread”  She sang it for me at her concert!

 

What books of the Bible (if any) did you read this year?

I read through the New Testament through the lens of prayer this year, noting every verse in which it’s mentioned, doing my best to gain a fresh perspective untainted by what I or anyone else had previously conceived.

 

Anything you wished you did this year?

Saved more money, managed time better … little things that make a huge difference. 

 

Biggest change in your life this year:

Well, that would probably be dating someone.  A close second would be Body for Life.  Yay for becoming healthy!  Oh, and I learned how to knit.

 

What are the big plans for 2007?

More Body for Life, running a HALF MARATHON come April, a possible NYC trip with Jayme this summer, hopefully lots of concerts and … grad school/seminary in the fall?  I also want to continue studying prayer … going back over my notes from the past year, reading some books and most importantly, praying. 

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!

05.21.06

I was fully intending for my next post to be about the bests and worsts of my May-cation (mostly bests), and I still fully intend to post them, but this afternoon I am compelled to choose another topic.

I love my church.  I could list a myriad of reasons, but this morning I felt especially thankful for my pastor.  I am blessed to hear week to week from such a learned yet humble shepherd.  This morning I felt like I was back in Hermeneutics, except this time rather than sitting in a classroom with twenty or so peers, I was in a sanctuary with maybe a thousand people, young and old, all walks of life, all hearing sound teaching about how to read and study the Bible.  What a novel idea, actually teaching people about context and literary forms and their implication for application! 

So I’m sitting there in my pew (actually it was a chair … sadly even my home church in Texas got rid of its pews in favor of plush chairs) agreeing wholeheartedly with the message, thinking that it was about time Joe-Schmo churchgoer heard this kind of thing, but not thinking about any personal implication.  That was until Dennis made a comment something like, “People ask me all the time how they can pray for me.  I tell them the greatest thing they can pray on my behalf is for discipline to be a faithful student of the Word.” 

And there was the personal implication.  I am incredibly privileged in regard to my exposure to Biblical knowledge.  I grew up in church, had close inquisitive relationships with both my youth minister and pastor uncle, went to a Christian university where my parents graciously allowed me to choose Biblical Languages as my major … plenty of exposure.  In a small group meeting last year, I was talking about my background/college major with the high school minister of my church, and he said something like, “So what do you do with a Biblical Languages major other than have super amazing quiet times?”  I explained my intentions to teach after getting a heck of a lot more education, but thought to myself, “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”  I mean, someone like me, with my upbringing and education, I should have super amazing quiet times.  I should be a diligent and faithful student of the Word.  I should be so much further along …

But I am lazy.  I rarely finish what I start.  I haven’t even read the entire Bible … the collection of books I view as my authority and nourishment, and I haven’t even read them all.  Looking at my life, I would have to say that the single most attacked area of my life is my spiritual growth through reading, studying, and applying Scripture.  More than any sin, I am continually defeated when it comes to integrating the Word into my schedule and life.  I have tasted and seen what God does in and through me when I am grounded in His Word, yet I inevitably fail to read, fail to seek.  It doesn’t make sense to me; I am full of questions, full of love for the Lord and His Word, and I genuinely find joy and answers and inevitably more questions whenever I read … it’s an incredible cycle.  Difficult yes, but exceedingly worth it.  So why do I stop?  Why do I choose anything else over that precious and necessary time?  While I am not one to claim the dismissive cliché of “the devil made me do it,” I am neither blind to the battle that wages for our mind, our devotion, our love.

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.  Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.  For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.  Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything to stand.  Stand firm then with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.  In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.  Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.  AND PRAY IN THE SPIRIT ON ALL OCCASIONS WITH ALL KINDS OF PRAYERS AND REQUESTS.  WITH THIS IN MIND, BE ALERT AND ALWAYS KEEP ON PRAYING FOR ALL THE SAINTS.”  Ephesians 6:10-18

So on behalf of this saint, like Dennis, I ask that you pray for discipline that I might be a faithful student of the Word.