Monday, December 04, 2006
all day...
...I've had a rock in my right front pocket. When my fingers slip between the fabric and find it, I smile to myself. This rock is my lasting reminder of one of the best hours of my life...an hour spent on the beach with three of my best friends the night of my 20th birthday. Memories of praying and dancing and attempted trespassing and worshipping and taking scores of pictures and holding our breath through tunnels all spring to mind when I reach into my pocket and find this small five-sided rock. And it reminds me of the goodness of God, of the longing for Him I get when I'm at my happiest. And it reminds me that even the week before finals cannot dwarf His love for me or defeat His care for me. And for that I am very thankful.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
you know you're in college when...
I realized that last night was the first night in a very long while that I had gone asleep in one day and woken up in an entirely new one. And that was because I went to bed at the "early" hour of 11:45.
Tonight was Placerita's "Turkey, Tarts and Testimonies" celebration. My friend Jared entered a pumpkin cheesecake in the men's bake-off in hopes that he might win the grand prize of a turkey. If he didn't, we weren't going to have a turkey at our Thanksgiving celebration. He won a Cornish Game Hen. Hardly enough meat for 5 people. Happily someone took pity on these college students whose best shot at a turkey is a pie baking contest...and a donated turkey now sits in my RD's fridge waiting for us to brave the mysteries of turkey cooking and carving.
I've just gotten the strangest feeling lately as I walk around campus...it's been longer than a year since all of this was new to me, and now it feels like normal life. And it's extremely weird to walk into the lounge of a dormitory and get that "home" feeling, or to find it normal to push yet another tray around the caf in order to get my next meal, or to walk up the hill for the third time in one day after a 10:15 pm meeting and mentally prepare myself for the rest of the evening's schedule. My roommate just looks at me as girls run screaming down the hall at midnight and asks, "When did this become normal?" I have no idea.
My thoughts of late have really been much deeper than all of this, but I don't know how to type them into this little box. Can I just say that I'm not at all the same person I was when I began this blog? I was reading it the other day...and I was struck by how much different I am. You can't tell as much just from what I wrote, but I remember the things running through my head, the things driving who I was back then...and those things are dramatically different now. But yet not as different as they ought to be.
I really ought to get back to researching the presentation that I must give at 11:45 tomorrow...
Tonight was Placerita's "Turkey, Tarts and Testimonies" celebration. My friend Jared entered a pumpkin cheesecake in the men's bake-off in hopes that he might win the grand prize of a turkey. If he didn't, we weren't going to have a turkey at our Thanksgiving celebration. He won a Cornish Game Hen. Hardly enough meat for 5 people. Happily someone took pity on these college students whose best shot at a turkey is a pie baking contest...and a donated turkey now sits in my RD's fridge waiting for us to brave the mysteries of turkey cooking and carving.
I've just gotten the strangest feeling lately as I walk around campus...it's been longer than a year since all of this was new to me, and now it feels like normal life. And it's extremely weird to walk into the lounge of a dormitory and get that "home" feeling, or to find it normal to push yet another tray around the caf in order to get my next meal, or to walk up the hill for the third time in one day after a 10:15 pm meeting and mentally prepare myself for the rest of the evening's schedule. My roommate just looks at me as girls run screaming down the hall at midnight and asks, "When did this become normal?" I have no idea.
My thoughts of late have really been much deeper than all of this, but I don't know how to type them into this little box. Can I just say that I'm not at all the same person I was when I began this blog? I was reading it the other day...and I was struck by how much different I am. You can't tell as much just from what I wrote, but I remember the things running through my head, the things driving who I was back then...and those things are dramatically different now. But yet not as different as they ought to be.
I really ought to get back to researching the presentation that I must give at 11:45 tomorrow...
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
amen
i repent, i repent of my pursuit of america's dream
i repent, i repent of living like i deserve anything
of my house, my fence, my kids, my wife
in our suburb where we're safe and white
i am wrong and of these things i repent
i repent, i repent of parading my liberty
i repent. i repent of paying for what i get for free
and for the way i believe that i am living right
by trading sins for others that are easier to hide
i am wrong and of these things i repent
i repent judging by a law that even i can't keep
of wearing righteousness like a disguise
to see through the planks in my own eyes
i repent, i repent of trading truth for false unity
i repent, i repent of confusing peace and idolatry
of caring more of what they think than what i know of what we need
by domesticating you until you look just like me
i am wrong and of these things i repent
--Derek Webb
i repent, i repent of living like i deserve anything
of my house, my fence, my kids, my wife
in our suburb where we're safe and white
i am wrong and of these things i repent
i repent, i repent of parading my liberty
i repent. i repent of paying for what i get for free
and for the way i believe that i am living right
by trading sins for others that are easier to hide
i am wrong and of these things i repent
i repent judging by a law that even i can't keep
of wearing righteousness like a disguise
to see through the planks in my own eyes
i repent, i repent of trading truth for false unity
i repent, i repent of confusing peace and idolatry
of caring more of what they think than what i know of what we need
by domesticating you until you look just like me
i am wrong and of these things i repent
--Derek Webb
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
...i shall again praise Him...
Psalm 42
To the choirmaster. A Maskil of the Sons of Korah.
1As a deer pants for flowing streams,
so pants my soul for you, O God.
2My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?
3My tears have been my food
day and night,
while they say to me continually,
"Where is your God?"
4These things I remember,
as I pour out my soul:
how I would go with the throng
and lead them in procession to the house of God
with glad shouts and songs of praise,
a multitude keeping festival.
5Why are you cast down, O my soul,
5Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation 6and my God.
My soul is cast down within me;
My soul is cast down within me;
therefore I remember you
from the land of Jordan and of Hermon,
from Mount Mizar.
7Deep calls to deep
at the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your waves
have gone over me.
8By day the LORD commands his steadfast love,
and at night his song is with me,
a prayer to the God of my life.
9I say to God, my rock:
"Why have you forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning
because of the oppression of the enemy?"
10As with a deadly wound in my bones,
my adversaries taunt me,
while they say to me continually,
"Where is your God?"
11Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God.
I need more hope. I need to remember the power of my God. Brother Andrew said that thinking people need the most hope. I have been thinking too much. It is time to learn to trust, time to rest in hope of my Savior. The world gets me downcast and I forget the days I would lead a procession of rejoicing into the house of my God. But when I remember Him and all that He has worked on my behalf, how can I ever dare to doubt? Where is my God? He is right here...He holds me in the palm of His hand. What can happen to me that's not for my good? What can happen to those I love that doesn't come directly from the loving hand of a sovereign God? Oh Lord, I believe. Help Thou my unbelief!
Saturday, October 21, 2006
life just keeps spinning...
You might notice that today seems to be a huge influx of postings. That's because it is. Some of the posts that have been lingering around as drafts for awhile were finally published. I just really felt like writing today...
This afternoon miriam and I drove up a mountian and then scrambled up to the top where we picked wildflowers and breathed in the silence. All the cars and houses lay far below us and I marvelled at all the hub-bub going on below while we just stood up there and dreamed of heaven. I needed that. I needed the perspective a mountian brings...because I've been getting lost in all the details lately. I needed to be called back to the big picture of God's infinite glory.
I am glad for mountains and friends and musicians who make me dream bigger.
This afternoon miriam and I drove up a mountian and then scrambled up to the top where we picked wildflowers and breathed in the silence. All the cars and houses lay far below us and I marvelled at all the hub-bub going on below while we just stood up there and dreamed of heaven. I needed that. I needed the perspective a mountian brings...because I've been getting lost in all the details lately. I needed to be called back to the big picture of God's infinite glory.
I am glad for mountains and friends and musicians who make me dream bigger.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
friday the 13th
It's been a week of falling apart. I don't remember how to live a life that's so busy with things that just don't seem to matter as much. I miss small hands around my neck. I miss singing as I run up and down the hall getting things together for the next project. I miss driving to the projects with a van full of kids and then crying as we left them. I miss praying hard. I miss crying hard. I miss loving more than I thought was possible.
It's exactly the sort of night where I could laugh or cry at any moment. It's the perfect sort of night for dinner with Miriam and Danielle and Rachel. We all put on heels and jackets and listen to the perfect love song as we drive to the restaurant. We ask the waiter for free refills on everything and eat off each other's plates without asking. It's nice to know that's ok. We talk about life and love and random memories from before we knew each other and take pictures of our drinks and our feet.
We run into our rooms and change as fast as possible. Outside Slight, someone's playing music. I dance down the hill in my favorite tennis shoes. It's the kind of night when I feel everything a little more deeply and life hurts because it's so beautiful--it's funny how the more beautiful life gets the more desperately I want heaven.
We hug the squishy tree outside Del Taco and Rachel writes me a love note on a piece of the bark. On the way to Skid Row, I think about dying. It wouldn't be so bad, I decide. My heart is full of hurt for the people I'm about to talk to and the people I've left in Tulsa and Bellingham and Santa Clarita. There's so many big and little things going wrong just in my world. I close my eyes and see the mural at Comanche--"HOPE."
God is sovereign over the blue state of my heart and Rachel and I talk to a Christian named Chris who loves Keith Green and Tozer and knows his Bible so deeply and passionately that I regret wasting so much time in not hungrily studying it the way I ought to. I am encouraged...when I thought I was coming to Skid Row to encourage others.
We drive back to school through a thunderstorm. I love that. I love that about God--how He orchestrates the weather in such glorious ways. I love that He sent that thunderstorm when my soul needed a reminder of His power. I love that He made my Friday the 13th a very lucky day...if by luck you mean sovereignly ordained. I love that every day is my lucky day because the God of heaven holds me in His hand.
It's exactly the sort of night where I could laugh or cry at any moment. It's the perfect sort of night for dinner with Miriam and Danielle and Rachel. We all put on heels and jackets and listen to the perfect love song as we drive to the restaurant. We ask the waiter for free refills on everything and eat off each other's plates without asking. It's nice to know that's ok. We talk about life and love and random memories from before we knew each other and take pictures of our drinks and our feet.
We run into our rooms and change as fast as possible. Outside Slight, someone's playing music. I dance down the hill in my favorite tennis shoes. It's the kind of night when I feel everything a little more deeply and life hurts because it's so beautiful--it's funny how the more beautiful life gets the more desperately I want heaven.
We hug the squishy tree outside Del Taco and Rachel writes me a love note on a piece of the bark. On the way to Skid Row, I think about dying. It wouldn't be so bad, I decide. My heart is full of hurt for the people I'm about to talk to and the people I've left in Tulsa and Bellingham and Santa Clarita. There's so many big and little things going wrong just in my world. I close my eyes and see the mural at Comanche--"HOPE."
God is sovereign over the blue state of my heart and Rachel and I talk to a Christian named Chris who loves Keith Green and Tozer and knows his Bible so deeply and passionately that I regret wasting so much time in not hungrily studying it the way I ought to. I am encouraged...when I thought I was coming to Skid Row to encourage others.
We drive back to school through a thunderstorm. I love that. I love that about God--how He orchestrates the weather in such glorious ways. I love that He sent that thunderstorm when my soul needed a reminder of His power. I love that He made my Friday the 13th a very lucky day...if by luck you mean sovereignly ordained. I love that every day is my lucky day because the God of heaven holds me in His hand.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
outreach week...
Last week I went back to one of my heart's homes. It's amazing how much of God you can see in one short week...through all-but-orphaned children, through the treasure of the Word, through God-centered preaching, through serving with others, through other people, through sunsets over New Mexico, through sovereignty worked out in continuous small miracles...
Two experiences stand out among all that happened in that crazy short week. Both happened on Wednesday. I was picking up kids at Apache, and only Qwue-Qwue was in my van as we circled the apartment complex. She noticed the writing on my left wrist. "What does that say?" It's a one word reminder to myself--"Love."
"Who do you love, Qwue-Qwue?" I twist around so I can look into her eyes.
"I love God." Tears come to my eyes...you'd have to know her story to understand completely. Miriam says later that we don't know what a 7-year-old born on Skid Row whose parents deal drugs would look like as a Christian...but it might look a lot like Qwue-Qwue. She goes on to tell me, "Yesterday I was trying to read my little Bible but my mommy came and told me to put it away." How does a 7-year-old follow Christ when her own mother is upset when she reads her Bible? When her mom's boyfriend hits her?
On the way back to Apache, I had three kids in my car--siblings, Jessica, Myella and Anthony. They were upset that they couldn't stay for Mission Memorization with some of their friends. But we couldn't get ahold of their mom, so we had to take them back. Most parents at the projects wouldn't even care and might not even notice, but we want to keep them informed any way. When we got to their home, their mom was there, so they asked her if they could go back with me. She agreed and they went inside to get coats. I have a brief phone conference and we're unsure if it's okay for them to come back as they'll miss dinner and most of homework help time. Finally we decide it's okay, and they're back in my van, much happier than they were on our ride to the apartments. I ask them what they like about Kid's Club, the VBS/tutoring program they've been coming to. "I like the songs and the games and learning about Jesus," Jessica answers.
"What do you know about Jesus?" I ask.
"Um...He died on the cross."
I pause to see if there's more and then ask, "Do you know why He died?" She doesn't, so I explain the entire gospel as best I can. The car ride flies past. Finally I try to sum it up for her: "Jesus died so we could go to heaven and be with God when we die, and so we can turn away from our sin and toward Him."
She gets it. "I want to turn away from sin and follow Him." I am amazed at God's sovereign plan for this drive that my flesh had been kicking against. He gave me that one-on-one time so that Jessica could understand the cross. His plans for my days are so much grander than anything I create.
Two experiences stand out among all that happened in that crazy short week. Both happened on Wednesday. I was picking up kids at Apache, and only Qwue-Qwue was in my van as we circled the apartment complex. She noticed the writing on my left wrist. "What does that say?" It's a one word reminder to myself--"Love."
"Who do you love, Qwue-Qwue?" I twist around so I can look into her eyes.
"I love God." Tears come to my eyes...you'd have to know her story to understand completely. Miriam says later that we don't know what a 7-year-old born on Skid Row whose parents deal drugs would look like as a Christian...but it might look a lot like Qwue-Qwue. She goes on to tell me, "Yesterday I was trying to read my little Bible but my mommy came and told me to put it away." How does a 7-year-old follow Christ when her own mother is upset when she reads her Bible? When her mom's boyfriend hits her?
On the way back to Apache, I had three kids in my car--siblings, Jessica, Myella and Anthony. They were upset that they couldn't stay for Mission Memorization with some of their friends. But we couldn't get ahold of their mom, so we had to take them back. Most parents at the projects wouldn't even care and might not even notice, but we want to keep them informed any way. When we got to their home, their mom was there, so they asked her if they could go back with me. She agreed and they went inside to get coats. I have a brief phone conference and we're unsure if it's okay for them to come back as they'll miss dinner and most of homework help time. Finally we decide it's okay, and they're back in my van, much happier than they were on our ride to the apartments. I ask them what they like about Kid's Club, the VBS/tutoring program they've been coming to. "I like the songs and the games and learning about Jesus," Jessica answers.
"What do you know about Jesus?" I ask.
"Um...He died on the cross."
I pause to see if there's more and then ask, "Do you know why He died?" She doesn't, so I explain the entire gospel as best I can. The car ride flies past. Finally I try to sum it up for her: "Jesus died so we could go to heaven and be with God when we die, and so we can turn away from our sin and toward Him."
She gets it. "I want to turn away from sin and follow Him." I am amazed at God's sovereign plan for this drive that my flesh had been kicking against. He gave me that one-on-one time so that Jessica could understand the cross. His plans for my days are so much grander than anything I create.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
2:36 am
You know you are either too well-rested or too highly caffeinated when it's this time of night and you've been laying in bed for half an hour wide awake. Or maybe you just have a lot on your mind. Whatever it is, I haven't been able to get to sleep these past few nights, which is highly abnormal for me.
I painted tonight with the girls on my wing...which was relaxing and frustrating. I think that all of my artistic endeavors end up being an attempt for me to express my soul, and when it doesn't turn out like I think it ought, I get upset. And it pretty much never turns out like I think it ought. So I'm neither a poet nor an artist as much as I'd desperately like to be both.
Yesterday (well, two days ago) I went to our lovely TMC library and checked out a bunch of books that I felt it was my duty as an English major to read but I never did read as a result of my unorthodox highschool education, during the first half of which my teacher (Mom) thought I was over-Englished and the second half of which I mostly read humanistic, feministic and/or enviromentalistic essays (or rants, as the case may be). (That was an atrocious sentence, but it's too late for me to care. I'm very glad that I'm not required to diagram it.) Anyways, back to the point. I am reading 1984 (I know, it's shocking that I never read it) and I'm pretty sure that it's way cooler to me now than it would have been had I read it as a sophomore. I am so fascinated by it, especially the stuff that deals with language, literature and journalism, of course, and I'm only about 1/4 of the way in. I only hope the rest of my reading remains this enjoyable.
My computer is now fixed and, as a result, I now have my iTunes back. And as much as I missed my music and still enjoy it, I'm just really feeling like reinventing myself musically...or at least expanding my musical horizons. So if anyone has any suggestions, I'm more than willing to listen to just about anything...once.
Today was my second or third day at work (I forget which). And it didn't go too well. I had to run a bunch of errands, none of which were successful--partly through my own fault (it helps to have your credit card with you) and partly through the unavailability of various items. It was stressful and depressing, and it didn't help that I hadn't had down time since 8:00 am. As a result of that demanding schedule, I didn't eat anything until dinner, which was probably a bad strategy on my part. I was so messed up that I pretty much cried all the way back to the dorms...for no reason and every reason. But it was also good in a way--I hadn't really cried since I found out my cousin died suddenly last weekend, and I know I've been needing to.
I think one of the reasons today was a bad day was that I was far too me-focused. I concentrated on what I needed to do and how little time I had to actually do it and I forgot what I'm really here for. This week (well, since last Friday really), I've been trying to make every day a continuous praise song to God for His many graces to me, and it's incredible how that improves my perspective. The little things are huge when you see God behind them. But today I failed at that...and suffered as a result.
Classes are great...I might as well outline them while I'm wide-awake and in a typing mood.
Advanced Grammar: has made me start mentally evaluating and/or diagramming sentences as they come out of my mouth, thereby driving me nearly insane...but it's still really fascinating to study grammar. I know, I'm a nerd.
Shakespeare: any class in which Prof Horner plays a Bohemian shepherd with a Scottish accent and people have to audition their roars to see who gets to chase Antigonus offstage is worth going to...if only for the sheer entertainment value. I'm still not sure how I feel about Shakespeare though.
Postmodernism: Suzuki is amazing. And funny. And I'm really getting it, which is a huge plus. Also, I'm a postmodernist. I'm not sure how to clearly explain that to everyone who is shocked as they read that sentence, but my goal is to eventually be able to explain to the average layperson in five minutes why I am a postmodernist. Stay tuned.
Ministry to the Urban Poor: simply put--amazing. This is where my heart is and I love sitting around a table and being able to think through all the issues surrounding this ministry alongside of others who are passionate about it.
New Testament I: Behle is great and I get to read the gospels for homework. Pretty awesome stuff.
Philosophies of Education: I've had a few too many intense English courses for this to really fascinate or challenge me, but it's nice to have one class I can (somewhat) relax in. Also I am formulating my own philosophy of education, which is very interesting but as of yet almost entirely undeveloped.
Well, this has been a very grammatically challenged post with an extreme lack of coherence, so I beg of you to forgive me. Perhaps at an earlier hour I might think better...but it's doubtful.
Grace to you.
I painted tonight with the girls on my wing...which was relaxing and frustrating. I think that all of my artistic endeavors end up being an attempt for me to express my soul, and when it doesn't turn out like I think it ought, I get upset. And it pretty much never turns out like I think it ought. So I'm neither a poet nor an artist as much as I'd desperately like to be both.
Yesterday (well, two days ago) I went to our lovely TMC library and checked out a bunch of books that I felt it was my duty as an English major to read but I never did read as a result of my unorthodox highschool education, during the first half of which my teacher (Mom) thought I was over-Englished and the second half of which I mostly read humanistic, feministic and/or enviromentalistic essays (or rants, as the case may be). (That was an atrocious sentence, but it's too late for me to care. I'm very glad that I'm not required to diagram it.) Anyways, back to the point. I am reading 1984 (I know, it's shocking that I never read it) and I'm pretty sure that it's way cooler to me now than it would have been had I read it as a sophomore. I am so fascinated by it, especially the stuff that deals with language, literature and journalism, of course, and I'm only about 1/4 of the way in. I only hope the rest of my reading remains this enjoyable.
My computer is now fixed and, as a result, I now have my iTunes back. And as much as I missed my music and still enjoy it, I'm just really feeling like reinventing myself musically...or at least expanding my musical horizons. So if anyone has any suggestions, I'm more than willing to listen to just about anything...once.
Today was my second or third day at work (I forget which). And it didn't go too well. I had to run a bunch of errands, none of which were successful--partly through my own fault (it helps to have your credit card with you) and partly through the unavailability of various items. It was stressful and depressing, and it didn't help that I hadn't had down time since 8:00 am. As a result of that demanding schedule, I didn't eat anything until dinner, which was probably a bad strategy on my part. I was so messed up that I pretty much cried all the way back to the dorms...for no reason and every reason. But it was also good in a way--I hadn't really cried since I found out my cousin died suddenly last weekend, and I know I've been needing to.
I think one of the reasons today was a bad day was that I was far too me-focused. I concentrated on what I needed to do and how little time I had to actually do it and I forgot what I'm really here for. This week (well, since last Friday really), I've been trying to make every day a continuous praise song to God for His many graces to me, and it's incredible how that improves my perspective. The little things are huge when you see God behind them. But today I failed at that...and suffered as a result.
Classes are great...I might as well outline them while I'm wide-awake and in a typing mood.
Advanced Grammar: has made me start mentally evaluating and/or diagramming sentences as they come out of my mouth, thereby driving me nearly insane...but it's still really fascinating to study grammar. I know, I'm a nerd.
Shakespeare: any class in which Prof Horner plays a Bohemian shepherd with a Scottish accent and people have to audition their roars to see who gets to chase Antigonus offstage is worth going to...if only for the sheer entertainment value. I'm still not sure how I feel about Shakespeare though.
Postmodernism: Suzuki is amazing. And funny. And I'm really getting it, which is a huge plus. Also, I'm a postmodernist. I'm not sure how to clearly explain that to everyone who is shocked as they read that sentence, but my goal is to eventually be able to explain to the average layperson in five minutes why I am a postmodernist. Stay tuned.
Ministry to the Urban Poor: simply put--amazing. This is where my heart is and I love sitting around a table and being able to think through all the issues surrounding this ministry alongside of others who are passionate about it.
New Testament I: Behle is great and I get to read the gospels for homework. Pretty awesome stuff.
Philosophies of Education: I've had a few too many intense English courses for this to really fascinate or challenge me, but it's nice to have one class I can (somewhat) relax in. Also I am formulating my own philosophy of education, which is very interesting but as of yet almost entirely undeveloped.
Well, this has been a very grammatically challenged post with an extreme lack of coherence, so I beg of you to forgive me. Perhaps at an earlier hour I might think better...but it's doubtful.
Grace to you.
Monday, September 11, 2006
September 11
Went back to Skid Row the past two weeks...I'd forgotten that my heart lives on those broken streets...
Both of the past two weeks I've ended up in long and intense conversations with Muslims. It hurts to look into eyes that gaze back with intelligence and lucidity and then realize that they are just as entrapped as those who look at me through eyes clouded with drugs and alcohol. It hurts to listen to them butt heads with my beloved brothers and sisters who are ministering with me, to hear them respond to my "I'll be praying for you" with an "I'll be praying for you as well." To know that all I can do is pray. Nothing I say will convince them that Jesus is the only way to God.
But isn't that how it always is? It's only that I feel that my words have an actual impact on the other people I minister to, when in reality those conversations are just as much a product of God's grace. How many times to I have to keep coming back to the reality that I am nothing? So, so often I begin to think that I can make an impact on people through my own merit, when it is always, only, all of God.
I am so lost when dealing with Islam. I was really encouraged in my Postmodernism class today when Prof Suzuki somewhat addressed this issue...in academic terms, but still it helped me see why I have such huge roadblocks to conversation when dealing with Muslims. He said, "The Muslims do not subscribe to our narrative and play the completely wrong game against us." There's such a disconnect between us and them that we're not even on the same playing field, let alone playing by the same rules.
This makes God's grace so much more amazing. He reaches down and miraculously transforms everything about a person so they come to saving faith in Him. Isn't that incredible?
Both of the past two weeks I've ended up in long and intense conversations with Muslims. It hurts to look into eyes that gaze back with intelligence and lucidity and then realize that they are just as entrapped as those who look at me through eyes clouded with drugs and alcohol. It hurts to listen to them butt heads with my beloved brothers and sisters who are ministering with me, to hear them respond to my "I'll be praying for you" with an "I'll be praying for you as well." To know that all I can do is pray. Nothing I say will convince them that Jesus is the only way to God.
But isn't that how it always is? It's only that I feel that my words have an actual impact on the other people I minister to, when in reality those conversations are just as much a product of God's grace. How many times to I have to keep coming back to the reality that I am nothing? So, so often I begin to think that I can make an impact on people through my own merit, when it is always, only, all of God.
I am so lost when dealing with Islam. I was really encouraged in my Postmodernism class today when Prof Suzuki somewhat addressed this issue...in academic terms, but still it helped me see why I have such huge roadblocks to conversation when dealing with Muslims. He said, "The Muslims do not subscribe to our narrative and play the completely wrong game against us." There's such a disconnect between us and them that we're not even on the same playing field, let alone playing by the same rules.
This makes God's grace so much more amazing. He reaches down and miraculously transforms everything about a person so they come to saving faith in Him. Isn't that incredible?
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
...deeper into the glories...
It's been a long time...
I'm back at school...
Back in the mindset where I've forgotten what to do if I have a moment of free time...
It was crazy to walk through WOW Week once again and remember that just one year ago I was one of those "little freshmen"...to remember how lost and timid I felt...to think of all God has done in my life in that one short year. In so many ways I think that I'm a completely different person than I was back then. God has been so good...I am daily amazed by His faithfulness to me. I don't deserve it at all. I fall every day...yet every time He accepts me back into His arms. I am in awe at His faithful mercy.
One of the coolest things about being back is being around all of these people who inspire me with their passion. I love coming away from conversations deeper in love with Jesus and more excited about the work of the Gospel. And there are so many people here who I only know a little, but I can't even see their faces without being reminded of how awesome God is. Then there are those who daily call me to a closer walk...Christian community is such a joy...it hurts to let them see all my faults, but it's so very sweet at the same time. What a marvelous grace!
Love love,
Jillian Rose
I'm back at school...
Back in the mindset where I've forgotten what to do if I have a moment of free time...
It was crazy to walk through WOW Week once again and remember that just one year ago I was one of those "little freshmen"...to remember how lost and timid I felt...to think of all God has done in my life in that one short year. In so many ways I think that I'm a completely different person than I was back then. God has been so good...I am daily amazed by His faithfulness to me. I don't deserve it at all. I fall every day...yet every time He accepts me back into His arms. I am in awe at His faithful mercy.
One of the coolest things about being back is being around all of these people who inspire me with their passion. I love coming away from conversations deeper in love with Jesus and more excited about the work of the Gospel. And there are so many people here who I only know a little, but I can't even see their faces without being reminded of how awesome God is. Then there are those who daily call me to a closer walk...Christian community is such a joy...it hurts to let them see all my faults, but it's so very sweet at the same time. What a marvelous grace!
Love love,
Jillian Rose
Thursday, July 13, 2006
to reveal all of You that i can...
The last few weeks have been exhausting and amazing...
I can't even begin to find words to sum everything up...
I spent the weekend of the Fourth in the company of some of the most amazing people in the world...between football and lightening bugs and Pad Thai and homemade peach icecream and crazy pool games and trips to coffee shops we managed to slip in some planning for our camp in Tennessee. The night of the Fourth found me in a church office, copying and stapling booklets for the camp. I heard the explosions outside...remembered past celebrations...and laughed. If someone had told me one year ago that I would be doing random secretarial work in Tulsa, Oklahoma when the next Fourth of July rolled around, I probably would have laughed at them. And yet I didn't mind one bit.
I think that's one of the biggest things God is teaching me in ministry this summer...that I don't matter. Not that the work I do doesn't matter, but that this thing I call "me" doesn't matter. My rights and personality and wishes and preferences and desires must all be laid aside for the sake of Him Who gave His entire life for me. I must keep killing myself. Moment by moment. I didn't realize how very much my life is totally me-centered, even in the little things. I want my life to be a sacrifice, willlingly and lovingly laid down for the sake of this great Treasure.
Hmm...where was I? Oh yes, Tennessee. The day after the Fourth found me playing football in the freeway median somewhere between Memphis and Nashville...as an accident stopped traffic for miles. We ran youth camp for Theta Baptist Church...that week was such evidence of my infernal weakness and God's majestic grace. It was such a joy to see God change kids...and to know that it was only Him who could have ever done such work.
I stopped writing this for a while to recollect my thoughts. They are no more collected...but I'm now fighting tears. God is incredible. I don't have words at all to describe the experince of Him. I just pray and live that people might see in my life the change that the gospel has made.
Project 61 ended today. I am exhausted and encouraged and discouraged and mostly more in love with God. Ah...why is it that I have to be at a place of utter devestation to realize my neediness. I know with my mind that I need Him all the time, but it's so rare that I know it with my heart, that He is all my desire, that His words provide all my sustenance, that prayer flows as naturally as breathing just because I am so aware of my need.
The kids, well, they're the reason I'm here. This wouldn't be a good post if I didn't tell you about Montana, the sweet bad boy type who stole my heart with one impish smile and has now moved away. Or Keaundre who stole Nate's wallet today and lied about it. We were shocked...he was one of the last kids we suspected of such a thing. Or the girl whose name I can't even pronounce, let alone spell, but who is so starved for love that she can't even accept it or recognize it.
So much more to say...
God is beautiful.
I can't even begin to find words to sum everything up...
I spent the weekend of the Fourth in the company of some of the most amazing people in the world...between football and lightening bugs and Pad Thai and homemade peach icecream and crazy pool games and trips to coffee shops we managed to slip in some planning for our camp in Tennessee. The night of the Fourth found me in a church office, copying and stapling booklets for the camp. I heard the explosions outside...remembered past celebrations...and laughed. If someone had told me one year ago that I would be doing random secretarial work in Tulsa, Oklahoma when the next Fourth of July rolled around, I probably would have laughed at them. And yet I didn't mind one bit.
I think that's one of the biggest things God is teaching me in ministry this summer...that I don't matter. Not that the work I do doesn't matter, but that this thing I call "me" doesn't matter. My rights and personality and wishes and preferences and desires must all be laid aside for the sake of Him Who gave His entire life for me. I must keep killing myself. Moment by moment. I didn't realize how very much my life is totally me-centered, even in the little things. I want my life to be a sacrifice, willlingly and lovingly laid down for the sake of this great Treasure.
Hmm...where was I? Oh yes, Tennessee. The day after the Fourth found me playing football in the freeway median somewhere between Memphis and Nashville...as an accident stopped traffic for miles. We ran youth camp for Theta Baptist Church...that week was such evidence of my infernal weakness and God's majestic grace. It was such a joy to see God change kids...and to know that it was only Him who could have ever done such work.
I stopped writing this for a while to recollect my thoughts. They are no more collected...but I'm now fighting tears. God is incredible. I don't have words at all to describe the experince of Him. I just pray and live that people might see in my life the change that the gospel has made.
Project 61 ended today. I am exhausted and encouraged and discouraged and mostly more in love with God. Ah...why is it that I have to be at a place of utter devestation to realize my neediness. I know with my mind that I need Him all the time, but it's so rare that I know it with my heart, that He is all my desire, that His words provide all my sustenance, that prayer flows as naturally as breathing just because I am so aware of my need.
The kids, well, they're the reason I'm here. This wouldn't be a good post if I didn't tell you about Montana, the sweet bad boy type who stole my heart with one impish smile and has now moved away. Or Keaundre who stole Nate's wallet today and lied about it. We were shocked...he was one of the last kids we suspected of such a thing. Or the girl whose name I can't even pronounce, let alone spell, but who is so starved for love that she can't even accept it or recognize it.
So much more to say...
God is beautiful.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
my calloused feet and too tender knees
I love the line that I used as the title of this entry. I don't pray enough. You know that verse about praying without ceasing? I don't have any idea what it would mean to pray for even 10 minutes without ceasing...my mind wanders so often and I am distracted from my task at hand. I hate that in me...I hate the battle that happens in my mind every time I attempt a prolonged time of prayer. It seems weird to ask for prayers that I might be able to pray, but that is what I am doing. My knees are far too tender.
I meant to write a bunch of things that have inspired and/or convicted me, but alas I left my journal in the intern office...hopefully those rascally boys don't get to it...
Seriously though, I love all the people I am working with. It's awesome to see God use each of them...it's awesome to learn with them and pray with them and sit on a porch at midnight and talk about how great God is...and to laugh! We laugh all the time...these are some of the coolest crazy people in the world...I'm certain I'm the crazier for the twelve-hour-plus days we've spent with each other. And I'm okay with that.
I will leave you with some words from the great poet Pablo Neruda...I managed to get Allison hooked on him tonight so I thought it fitting...
...stand up,
you, stand up,
but stand up with me
and let us go off together
to fight face to face
against the devil's webs,
against the system that distributes hunger,
against organized misery...
I meant to write a bunch of things that have inspired and/or convicted me, but alas I left my journal in the intern office...hopefully those rascally boys don't get to it...
Seriously though, I love all the people I am working with. It's awesome to see God use each of them...it's awesome to learn with them and pray with them and sit on a porch at midnight and talk about how great God is...and to laugh! We laugh all the time...these are some of the coolest crazy people in the world...I'm certain I'm the crazier for the twelve-hour-plus days we've spent with each other. And I'm okay with that.
I will leave you with some words from the great poet Pablo Neruda...I managed to get Allison hooked on him tonight so I thought it fitting...
...stand up,
you, stand up,
but stand up with me
and let us go off together
to fight face to face
against the devil's webs,
against the system that distributes hunger,
against organized misery...
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
...there's nothing else i need anymore...
Snapshots of my life as of late:
God is everything. I am only a barefoot nineteen-year-old girl standing in front of a class of children whose pasts are filled with more hurt than I can imagine. I am inadequate. I am more than inadequate. I am nothing.
My heart has been stolen...irrevokably. I love these kids with a passion I can't describe...and I break for them with a pain I can't describe.
God's plans are bigger than mine.
I'm more content than I've ever been. I'm more exhausted than I've ever been. And it's a good feeling to be exhausted working for the kingdom.
Sin is sneaky. Yeah. Really sneaky. It attacks when I'm not looking, lies in ways I forget to look for, and is bent on ruining my witness. Oh God, guard me in the shelter of Your wings!
I want today, tomorrow to be a time for dancing and laughing and embracing, but I can't demand my times. My times are in His hands. And that's where they're the safest.
God is everything. I am only a barefoot nineteen-year-old girl standing in front of a class of children whose pasts are filled with more hurt than I can imagine. I am inadequate. I am more than inadequate. I am nothing.
My heart has been stolen...irrevokably. I love these kids with a passion I can't describe...and I break for them with a pain I can't describe.
God's plans are bigger than mine.
I'm more content than I've ever been. I'm more exhausted than I've ever been. And it's a good feeling to be exhausted working for the kingdom.
Sin is sneaky. Yeah. Really sneaky. It attacks when I'm not looking, lies in ways I forget to look for, and is bent on ruining my witness. Oh God, guard me in the shelter of Your wings!
I want today, tomorrow to be a time for dancing and laughing and embracing, but I can't demand my times. My times are in His hands. And that's where they're the safest.
"Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD;
His going out is sure as the dawn;
He will come to us as the showers,
as the spring rains that water the earth." Hosea 6:3
Amen! Come quickly Lord Jesus!
Much love...from the depths of my heart...
Jillian Rose
Monday, June 05, 2006
For the Bellinghamsters
Today was the first official day of interning. It was, as my new roommate (another) Allison would put it, amazing. We've got a lot going on this summer, but the coolest part about it is that it's not just busy work. Everything we're doing is merely letting our light shine so that others see and glorify God. As Pastor Joe said this morning, the awesome thing about light is it's purpose is not to display itself, it's to show something else.
So the main reason for this post is cause I need y'all to pray. A lot. Our tutoring program starts tomorrow and it will be awesome but I'm not ready. Mentally or emotionally. miriam threw me off the deep end (for which I love her dearly) and then drew a picture of me drowning. Well, it looked so awful (me drowning) that I decided I must swim. So pray that I do. Thanks!
Oh! And fireflies (or lightening bugs, if you chose to call them that prosaic name) are amazing.
Much love...
So the main reason for this post is cause I need y'all to pray. A lot. Our tutoring program starts tomorrow and it will be awesome but I'm not ready. Mentally or emotionally. miriam threw me off the deep end (for which I love her dearly) and then drew a picture of me drowning. Well, it looked so awful (me drowning) that I decided I must swim. So pray that I do. Thanks!
Oh! And fireflies (or lightening bugs, if you chose to call them that prosaic name) are amazing.
Much love...
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Today...
...I went to the zoo with my family. At the zoo they have a reproduction of some buildings in a typical African village.
We have so much.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
...A Burning Fire...
1 Corinthians 9:16--For if I preach the gospel, that gives me no ground for boasting. For necessity is laid upon me. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!
Jeremiah 20:9--If I say, "I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name, there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary holding it in, and I cannot."
Does it ever hurt you that "Christians" can live lives in this lost world and NOT preach the gospel? That they can tell their children to not befriend unbelievers as they might be polluted by worldliness? That they can be partakers in the greatest gift ever bestowed and then promote trivial things like sports teams and new recipes and the latest and greatest invention when they do have opportunities to talk to unbelievers?
People, this world WILL NOT LAST! Why do we talk to unbelievers like it will? Why doesn't it physically hurt us, like a fire inside our bones, when we dance around the Truth and talk meaninglessly about the weather and coffee and clothes and all of the million things that seem to matter now and have no bearing on eternity? Why do we find it so easy to talk about anything but the gospel? Why do we talk about people who do share the gospel as if they've done something worth boasting about? People, that's our job! The only reason we are still on this earth is to share the gospel. That's it! That is the meaning of your life; that is the will of God for you. Woe to us if we DO NOT preach the gospel!
We've got it--the pearl of greatest price. What are you doing about it?
Jeremiah 20:9--If I say, "I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name, there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary holding it in, and I cannot."
Does it ever hurt you that "Christians" can live lives in this lost world and NOT preach the gospel? That they can tell their children to not befriend unbelievers as they might be polluted by worldliness? That they can be partakers in the greatest gift ever bestowed and then promote trivial things like sports teams and new recipes and the latest and greatest invention when they do have opportunities to talk to unbelievers?
People, this world WILL NOT LAST! Why do we talk to unbelievers like it will? Why doesn't it physically hurt us, like a fire inside our bones, when we dance around the Truth and talk meaninglessly about the weather and coffee and clothes and all of the million things that seem to matter now and have no bearing on eternity? Why do we find it so easy to talk about anything but the gospel? Why do we talk about people who do share the gospel as if they've done something worth boasting about? People, that's our job! The only reason we are still on this earth is to share the gospel. That's it! That is the meaning of your life; that is the will of God for you. Woe to us if we DO NOT preach the gospel!
We've got it--the pearl of greatest price. What are you doing about it?
Friday, May 19, 2006
"back in pink"
The title is thanks to Jake...a mixture of AC/DC and what he believes is an excessively spirited dorm life...he has this strange dislike for Waldock...probably because he's not man enough to wear pink...but that's me. Back. In pink.
It's been nice to be home. Nice--and weird. You see your own selfishness so much more in conjunction with family. And you see your discontent when you watch other people's dreams come true (dreams you've prayed about for years and years) and realize that the fulfillment of yours is still far in the distance. You know though, I'm seeing more and more that the only thing I've ever wanted is Jesus...I just didn't always know it.
I forgot how much I missed people till I got home. I was at a late night softball game, laughing at the antics of one of my friends, and realized that I hadn't known that I missed that, or even that I missed that friend. Being gone for so long gave me a greater appreciation for the little things. Like a well timed hug, or a home-cooked meal, or the antics of a large family around the dinner table, or driving on a sunny afternoon listening to country music with my little sister, or doing dishes. Little stuff that makes up life.
Still though, I'm excited about what's ahead. Excited and scared. I have this tendency to want to do whatever I think is hardest, what I recoil from...and after my initial "Yes," I begin realizing that I may have gotten myself in way over my head. But that's good for me, because not being able to do it on my own puts me where I should have been in the first place: completely relying on God.
I have more that I'm thinking about and wanting to write...but another thing that I forgot about is that one internet connection for seven people means your time online is both rationed and pestered. So now I must hand the mouse over to the singing 13 year old who's been bugging me...pretty much since I got on. :-) Jake's blog should be updated fairly shortly.
It's been nice to be home. Nice--and weird. You see your own selfishness so much more in conjunction with family. And you see your discontent when you watch other people's dreams come true (dreams you've prayed about for years and years) and realize that the fulfillment of yours is still far in the distance. You know though, I'm seeing more and more that the only thing I've ever wanted is Jesus...I just didn't always know it.
I forgot how much I missed people till I got home. I was at a late night softball game, laughing at the antics of one of my friends, and realized that I hadn't known that I missed that, or even that I missed that friend. Being gone for so long gave me a greater appreciation for the little things. Like a well timed hug, or a home-cooked meal, or the antics of a large family around the dinner table, or driving on a sunny afternoon listening to country music with my little sister, or doing dishes. Little stuff that makes up life.
Still though, I'm excited about what's ahead. Excited and scared. I have this tendency to want to do whatever I think is hardest, what I recoil from...and after my initial "Yes," I begin realizing that I may have gotten myself in way over my head. But that's good for me, because not being able to do it on my own puts me where I should have been in the first place: completely relying on God.
I have more that I'm thinking about and wanting to write...but another thing that I forgot about is that one internet connection for seven people means your time online is both rationed and pestered. So now I must hand the mouse over to the singing 13 year old who's been bugging me...pretty much since I got on. :-) Jake's blog should be updated fairly shortly.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Thoughts on Teaching and English and Being Me
...another Advanced Comp paper that also could serve as a blog post...
From kindergarten through tenth grade, I was home schooled. I never set foot inside a public school classroom, never even saw the inside of a classroom expect what I saw in movies and television shows. I entered community college my junior year, eager to learn, with no idea about what I wanted to do with my life. All I knew is that I was good at working with kids, and that there were avenues opening for me in special education. And I loved to learn.
My first quarter at Whatcom Community College, I took beginning composition. My teacher was a feminist (the first real one I’d ever encountered) and a liberal who was not shy about sharing her disbelief in any sort of organized religion. My first essay was an in-class essay about the controversial Eminem song, “Lose Yourself.” I took the opportunity to write about a biblical view of family, which I was currently studying with my mom, and held my breath as I turned the essay in to her. She gave me an A. The next topic, yet another controversial issue, yet another deviant paper. And another A. I got bolder and began speaking up in class. I found others who had similar beliefs but had been reluctant to express them for lack of support. And my teacher and I became good friends. In fact, a year and a half later she wrote multiple glowing recommendations of this once-timid ex-homeschooler who found her voice in English 101.
I sometimes think about what might have happened if I had not been in that teacher’s class that quarter. Would I have chosen English as my future field? In one of my talks with her, we discussed why she chose teaching English. She was bright and could have gone into many fields. But she chose this one because of the flexibility it offered.
Two quarters later, after taking an English lit class that exposed me to literature I never knew existed and made me fall in love with poetry, I took the next course in the composition series. This time my teacher was an even more politically liberal environmentalist who loved Joyce James and Kate Chopin and Quincy Troupe. And, to my surprise, he loved my papers where I would contradict him or reinterpret things from a biblical viewpoint. Another solid A. And my desire to teach English grew stronger. Sam Roper, my teacher for English 102, told the class one day, “I chose to teach English because I can really teach about anything, I can say almost anything, and I get to hear you guys talk about it as well.”
This appealed to me, as I felt like I wanted to teach, but I also wanted freedom to improvise. I wanted to talk about important things, to explore things about the world that are truly worth exploring, to make people think. So I chose. I decided that I would be an English major. People were pressuring me to teach somehow, I knew I loved studying English, and I hoped it would provide me the opportunity to teach what I love and what I see as important.
But the further I get into this whole thing, the more complicated teaching seems to me. It’s not just talking about what you love and getting students involved in talking about it too, it’s the daily in-and-out of grading papers and coming up with lesson plans and figuring out what to do about students who just really don’t care. That’s the part that bothers me the most: how will I deal with students who aren’t interested in learning at all? I’ve always been a self-motivated learner, seeking out things which interest me, writing for the pure pleasure of organizing my thoughts on paper, reading for the pure pleasure of finding new things and meeting new friends. I don’t understand people who don’t care about learning. I really don’t understand people who don’t care about grades. As much as I try not to, I find that I am obsessive about my grades. I even go to the point of seeing my grades as a reflection of myself as a person, an attitude that I know is not healthy or right. But I still strive for the best grade I can get. The grade-less classroom appealed to me briefly, but I don’t think that I could operate like that. I don’t think I could handle not having a grade to strive toward. Because as eager as I am to learn, I get worn out. Midway through the semester, I find my grades dropping, and I force myself to go to class and to turn in assignments because otherwise I’ll fail the class and lose my scholarship and drop out of school and end up in a trailer park working two fast food jobs. Yes, some days I have to actually picture myself in a McDonalds uniform just to get myself to class.
But not all classes. Some classes I would love to just sit in on if there were no grade pressures. If I didn’t have to take general education classes in order to graduate, I’d do things like take Isaiah with Dr. Boyd just because it’s amazing book taught by a brilliant man and I would learn so much. I go to classes and learn about the Bible and about foreign languages and about other cultures and about music and about history and about literature and about theories, and I’d love it. But I wouldn’t turn things in to the teachers. I’d write to sort my thoughts out, to remember things I thought were beautiful, and to tell others what I’d been learning. But I wouldn’t have this sort of education. I wouldn’t sit through my fourth speech class ever just because my other three didn’t transfer. I wouldn’t try to listen to a boring teacher read almost verbatim from the book I read the night before about things I already have studied. I wouldn’t go to a math class and do unit multipliers and interest formulas and other things I did in middle school. Yes, middle school. Because I’ve always been liked at math, and I’ve always enjoyed balancing my education by having a mixture of things I’m studying at once. Math homework had been a welcome break from reading, and reading has been a relief from studying politics, which has been a diversion from solving equations. If I didn’t have to graduate but could still go to college, I would be better rounded than I am.
But I am abnormal in this way. So many other students don’t have this sort of enjoyment of diversity in learning. If there were no requirements, too many people would leave college having not learned anything. They would focus on one specific thing, they wouldn’t try to think through and synthesize their learning, and they would just waste their years as a student goofing off.
So as a teacher, I want to be able to give students flexibility in learning, to let them explore what they enjoy, but I also want them to actually learn. I’m not into making students do mindless busy work, but I also want them to learn. This is what I see as my biggest struggle when I start teaching. How do I give kids a love for learning through fun and interesting assignments, rather than make them hate it because of an overload of work that is entirely meaningless to them? How do I get them to be students who don’t turn things in merely because of the grade, but because they are actually interested in or even passionate about what they’re doing? I don’t know how, because I don’t even know how to get myself to do this. I want to get back to when I first fell in love with English, back to my junior year when I discovered writing to persuade people, or back to my freshman year when I began learning about the whole realm of great literature available, or even back to my grade school days when I passionately declared to my mother, “Oh, I just love diagramming sentences!” I want to be able to get people to one of those places. I want them to fall in love with books and authors and writing and the joy of connecting two ideas. I want to teach what I’m passionate about in order to make others passionate as well. But, mostly, I want to point people to be more like Jesus through all of this. That is why I’m here.
From kindergarten through tenth grade, I was home schooled. I never set foot inside a public school classroom, never even saw the inside of a classroom expect what I saw in movies and television shows. I entered community college my junior year, eager to learn, with no idea about what I wanted to do with my life. All I knew is that I was good at working with kids, and that there were avenues opening for me in special education. And I loved to learn.
My first quarter at Whatcom Community College, I took beginning composition. My teacher was a feminist (the first real one I’d ever encountered) and a liberal who was not shy about sharing her disbelief in any sort of organized religion. My first essay was an in-class essay about the controversial Eminem song, “Lose Yourself.” I took the opportunity to write about a biblical view of family, which I was currently studying with my mom, and held my breath as I turned the essay in to her. She gave me an A. The next topic, yet another controversial issue, yet another deviant paper. And another A. I got bolder and began speaking up in class. I found others who had similar beliefs but had been reluctant to express them for lack of support. And my teacher and I became good friends. In fact, a year and a half later she wrote multiple glowing recommendations of this once-timid ex-homeschooler who found her voice in English 101.
I sometimes think about what might have happened if I had not been in that teacher’s class that quarter. Would I have chosen English as my future field? In one of my talks with her, we discussed why she chose teaching English. She was bright and could have gone into many fields. But she chose this one because of the flexibility it offered.
Two quarters later, after taking an English lit class that exposed me to literature I never knew existed and made me fall in love with poetry, I took the next course in the composition series. This time my teacher was an even more politically liberal environmentalist who loved Joyce James and Kate Chopin and Quincy Troupe. And, to my surprise, he loved my papers where I would contradict him or reinterpret things from a biblical viewpoint. Another solid A. And my desire to teach English grew stronger. Sam Roper, my teacher for English 102, told the class one day, “I chose to teach English because I can really teach about anything, I can say almost anything, and I get to hear you guys talk about it as well.”
This appealed to me, as I felt like I wanted to teach, but I also wanted freedom to improvise. I wanted to talk about important things, to explore things about the world that are truly worth exploring, to make people think. So I chose. I decided that I would be an English major. People were pressuring me to teach somehow, I knew I loved studying English, and I hoped it would provide me the opportunity to teach what I love and what I see as important.
But the further I get into this whole thing, the more complicated teaching seems to me. It’s not just talking about what you love and getting students involved in talking about it too, it’s the daily in-and-out of grading papers and coming up with lesson plans and figuring out what to do about students who just really don’t care. That’s the part that bothers me the most: how will I deal with students who aren’t interested in learning at all? I’ve always been a self-motivated learner, seeking out things which interest me, writing for the pure pleasure of organizing my thoughts on paper, reading for the pure pleasure of finding new things and meeting new friends. I don’t understand people who don’t care about learning. I really don’t understand people who don’t care about grades. As much as I try not to, I find that I am obsessive about my grades. I even go to the point of seeing my grades as a reflection of myself as a person, an attitude that I know is not healthy or right. But I still strive for the best grade I can get. The grade-less classroom appealed to me briefly, but I don’t think that I could operate like that. I don’t think I could handle not having a grade to strive toward. Because as eager as I am to learn, I get worn out. Midway through the semester, I find my grades dropping, and I force myself to go to class and to turn in assignments because otherwise I’ll fail the class and lose my scholarship and drop out of school and end up in a trailer park working two fast food jobs. Yes, some days I have to actually picture myself in a McDonalds uniform just to get myself to class.
But not all classes. Some classes I would love to just sit in on if there were no grade pressures. If I didn’t have to take general education classes in order to graduate, I’d do things like take Isaiah with Dr. Boyd just because it’s amazing book taught by a brilliant man and I would learn so much. I go to classes and learn about the Bible and about foreign languages and about other cultures and about music and about history and about literature and about theories, and I’d love it. But I wouldn’t turn things in to the teachers. I’d write to sort my thoughts out, to remember things I thought were beautiful, and to tell others what I’d been learning. But I wouldn’t have this sort of education. I wouldn’t sit through my fourth speech class ever just because my other three didn’t transfer. I wouldn’t try to listen to a boring teacher read almost verbatim from the book I read the night before about things I already have studied. I wouldn’t go to a math class and do unit multipliers and interest formulas and other things I did in middle school. Yes, middle school. Because I’ve always been liked at math, and I’ve always enjoyed balancing my education by having a mixture of things I’m studying at once. Math homework had been a welcome break from reading, and reading has been a relief from studying politics, which has been a diversion from solving equations. If I didn’t have to graduate but could still go to college, I would be better rounded than I am.
But I am abnormal in this way. So many other students don’t have this sort of enjoyment of diversity in learning. If there were no requirements, too many people would leave college having not learned anything. They would focus on one specific thing, they wouldn’t try to think through and synthesize their learning, and they would just waste their years as a student goofing off.
So as a teacher, I want to be able to give students flexibility in learning, to let them explore what they enjoy, but I also want them to actually learn. I’m not into making students do mindless busy work, but I also want them to learn. This is what I see as my biggest struggle when I start teaching. How do I give kids a love for learning through fun and interesting assignments, rather than make them hate it because of an overload of work that is entirely meaningless to them? How do I get them to be students who don’t turn things in merely because of the grade, but because they are actually interested in or even passionate about what they’re doing? I don’t know how, because I don’t even know how to get myself to do this. I want to get back to when I first fell in love with English, back to my junior year when I discovered writing to persuade people, or back to my freshman year when I began learning about the whole realm of great literature available, or even back to my grade school days when I passionately declared to my mother, “Oh, I just love diagramming sentences!” I want to be able to get people to one of those places. I want them to fall in love with books and authors and writing and the joy of connecting two ideas. I want to teach what I’m passionate about in order to make others passionate as well. But, mostly, I want to point people to be more like Jesus through all of this. That is why I’m here.
these nights i get high just from breathing...
How can life be so beautiful and so painful all at once?
The end of the semester is upon us once again, and I am tired just thinking of all I have to do in the next three weeks.
Today was amazing...a picnic in a beautiful abandoned cabin with some of my favorite people...wading in a stream, frolicking in a field, eating food from our childhoods, listening to "Drops of Jupiter" with all the windows rolled down...
Today was convicting...I read the book of Hebrews...amazing and scary...
I was going to write a long post about Skid Row, but I feel that my readership might be bored of the topic and miriam posted a wonderful entry about it anyways. Suffice it to say that I nearly bought a tent and moved down there. I just love and ache for these people so much that a few hours and a small taco doesn't cut it at all. I wish I was able to do more...but I can't.
For those of you who don't know yet, I will be interning in Oklahoma for two months this summer...working with inner city kids, which I think is one of my passions, but I need to find out for sure...and I am so excited for the opportunity. God is going to stretch me, for sure...and I can't wait!
Reading poetry is one of the small pleasures in my life...my Norton's Anthology of Poetry is like a treasure chest every time I open it. A very abnormal and eclectic treasure chest, yes, but still a treasure chest.
Have you ever read a book and found parts of your own soul staring back at you? It's scary. That happened to me the other day...I had to go for a drive to organize my thoughts...came to no conclusion but saw God's greatness more clearly, which is always wonderful.
I love people so much....but I don't love them enough. You know?
I use the words "amazing" and "wonderful" and "beautiful" far too often. I wish I had a larger vocabulary...or the English language had more words...or something. Oh for heaven...
Well, the hour is late and I should be writing something else so...
love love and a sweet soy latte to you all!
The end of the semester is upon us once again, and I am tired just thinking of all I have to do in the next three weeks.
Today was amazing...a picnic in a beautiful abandoned cabin with some of my favorite people...wading in a stream, frolicking in a field, eating food from our childhoods, listening to "Drops of Jupiter" with all the windows rolled down...
Today was convicting...I read the book of Hebrews...amazing and scary...
I was going to write a long post about Skid Row, but I feel that my readership might be bored of the topic and miriam posted a wonderful entry about it anyways. Suffice it to say that I nearly bought a tent and moved down there. I just love and ache for these people so much that a few hours and a small taco doesn't cut it at all. I wish I was able to do more...but I can't.
For those of you who don't know yet, I will be interning in Oklahoma for two months this summer...working with inner city kids, which I think is one of my passions, but I need to find out for sure...and I am so excited for the opportunity. God is going to stretch me, for sure...and I can't wait!
Reading poetry is one of the small pleasures in my life...my Norton's Anthology of Poetry is like a treasure chest every time I open it. A very abnormal and eclectic treasure chest, yes, but still a treasure chest.
Have you ever read a book and found parts of your own soul staring back at you? It's scary. That happened to me the other day...I had to go for a drive to organize my thoughts...came to no conclusion but saw God's greatness more clearly, which is always wonderful.
I love people so much....but I don't love them enough. You know?
I use the words "amazing" and "wonderful" and "beautiful" far too often. I wish I had a larger vocabulary...or the English language had more words...or something. Oh for heaven...
Well, the hour is late and I should be writing something else so...
love love and a sweet soy latte to you all!
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Thursday, April 20, 2006
This is the "word bubble" for my blog. It shows the most common words used (on the front page at least). It is cool. You can find it at www.snapshirts.com.
Monday, April 10, 2006
nineteen
I used to say nineteen was a useless age. Now I know that it's not true.
Nineteen is hard and scary and fun and awe-ful in both senses of the word, but it's not useless.
Nineteen is last Friday night.
Nineteen is sharing beautiful dreams for the future over bowls of cheap Pad Thai.
Nineteen is cranking the music up and rolling the windows down and driving fast and singing loud.
Nineteen is praying about the future and getting acceptance letters and praying some more.
Nineteen is seeing the hurt in the eyes of the girl shooting up on the side of the road, asking you to pray that she can get more drugs.
Nineteen is being naive.
Nineteen is not knowing what to say or do but trying anyway, because you hurt for others.
Nineteen is crying for prostitutes who can't even accept love in the form of a taco.
Nineteen is sitting on a filthy street, praying and crying and singing and watching people go to hell and crying and praying some more.
Nineteen is believing that something can and must be done.
Nineteen is feeling overwhelmed by all that needs to be done and tackling it anyway.
My childish optimism is passing away--it's being replaced by a fierce, enthusiastic realism (still with loads of romanticism). I'm learning about the world and its prospects and hopes and its sin and despair. I'm learning about what I can do. And I'm learning about this God Who holds the future.
Nineteen is hard and scary and fun and awe-ful in both senses of the word, but it's not useless.
Nineteen is last Friday night.
Nineteen is sharing beautiful dreams for the future over bowls of cheap Pad Thai.
Nineteen is cranking the music up and rolling the windows down and driving fast and singing loud.
Nineteen is praying about the future and getting acceptance letters and praying some more.
Nineteen is seeing the hurt in the eyes of the girl shooting up on the side of the road, asking you to pray that she can get more drugs.
Nineteen is being naive.
Nineteen is not knowing what to say or do but trying anyway, because you hurt for others.
Nineteen is crying for prostitutes who can't even accept love in the form of a taco.
Nineteen is sitting on a filthy street, praying and crying and singing and watching people go to hell and crying and praying some more.
Nineteen is believing that something can and must be done.
Nineteen is feeling overwhelmed by all that needs to be done and tackling it anyway.
My childish optimism is passing away--it's being replaced by a fierce, enthusiastic realism (still with loads of romanticism). I'm learning about the world and its prospects and hopes and its sin and despair. I'm learning about what I can do. And I'm learning about this God Who holds the future.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Thoughts on a Rainy Night
Today is the perfect sort of day for lighting a candle, making some tea, and curling up in a big chair by a fire with a good book. Sadly, the only part of that I have right now is the tea. Candles and any sort of fire are rather frowned upon in a dorm room. And time for reading good books is scarce around here.
For some reason, my heart feels a pleasant sense of melancholy tonight. To paraphrase Anne Shirley, it's a delicate shade of blue. I think this is a good thing. I'm not sad to the point of depression, just quiet and contemplative. It's good to be quiet sometimes, good to have a quiet minute to just sit and think. I learn things about myself in quiet and solitude.
God has been stretching this soul lately. I am clinging to the knowledge that He knows perfectly how far to stretch it for my good and for His glory. (I cringed writing that phrase. It's so cliche--but also so true!) I am in awe of His delicate personal care for me. I am in awe that He stoops to care for this soul, to place it lovingly in the flames and watch until He can see His reflection. Isn't it incredible that we could be His reflection? What an amazing thing He has entrusted to us! Why do I so often take this whole precious gift of being a little Christ so flippantly?
Even in the middle of all this stretching and heating, there are moments of glad relief. I got an email from Natalie the other day about the Lummi club. The timing could not have been more perfect. It was one of those nights where the homework had nearly done me in, and my soul was much darker than a delicate shade of blue. I was ready to give up on many things when I got the email. I had told her that my summer plans were quite up in the air (which they still are), and she told the kids at the club to pray that I would make wise decision. Mikey, the troublesome one (read: a five year old boy who isn't keen on sitting through stories for an hour), told Natalie that I had to come back to Washington and be his teacher! She went on to tell me news of the club...how the kids had grown, changes that had happened in the family...and by the end I was in tears. It was just a little thing, but so often when I was teaching that club I would reach such a point of discouragement--to see those little sorts of results made my heart glad. I realized that I might not see now what God is doing in things I deem pointless, but He always is doing something. Even when I feel that nothing is happening.
We serve an amazing God! (And I can't wait til Heaven when I will have better adjectives and more time to describe Him!)
For some reason, my heart feels a pleasant sense of melancholy tonight. To paraphrase Anne Shirley, it's a delicate shade of blue. I think this is a good thing. I'm not sad to the point of depression, just quiet and contemplative. It's good to be quiet sometimes, good to have a quiet minute to just sit and think. I learn things about myself in quiet and solitude.
God has been stretching this soul lately. I am clinging to the knowledge that He knows perfectly how far to stretch it for my good and for His glory. (I cringed writing that phrase. It's so cliche--but also so true!) I am in awe of His delicate personal care for me. I am in awe that He stoops to care for this soul, to place it lovingly in the flames and watch until He can see His reflection. Isn't it incredible that we could be His reflection? What an amazing thing He has entrusted to us! Why do I so often take this whole precious gift of being a little Christ so flippantly?
Even in the middle of all this stretching and heating, there are moments of glad relief. I got an email from Natalie the other day about the Lummi club. The timing could not have been more perfect. It was one of those nights where the homework had nearly done me in, and my soul was much darker than a delicate shade of blue. I was ready to give up on many things when I got the email. I had told her that my summer plans were quite up in the air (which they still are), and she told the kids at the club to pray that I would make wise decision. Mikey, the troublesome one (read: a five year old boy who isn't keen on sitting through stories for an hour), told Natalie that I had to come back to Washington and be his teacher! She went on to tell me news of the club...how the kids had grown, changes that had happened in the family...and by the end I was in tears. It was just a little thing, but so often when I was teaching that club I would reach such a point of discouragement--to see those little sorts of results made my heart glad. I realized that I might not see now what God is doing in things I deem pointless, but He always is doing something. Even when I feel that nothing is happening.
We serve an amazing God! (And I can't wait til Heaven when I will have better adjectives and more time to describe Him!)
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Sublime
Have you ever taken a drive on a lonely dark day?
Have you ever found yourself on a windy road beside the ocean?
Have you ever scrambled down a steep slope to a rock overlooking the shore?
Have you ever sat on the edge of a cliff with your feet dangling over the stormy water and read the gospel of Luke?
Have you ever been afraid that the power of the wind might blow you into the ocean?
Have you ever watched the waves relentlessly chip away at the rocks?
Have you ever wondered at the power of Him who made the ocean and the wind and insignificant little you...and then died to redeem you?
Have you ever found yourself singing praise songs with your voice swallowed by the storm?
Have you ever curled up by a fire at a coffee shop and given thanks for the many things He gives, like a warm latte and a leather journal and a good book and heat that reaches to your bones?
I have. It may have been the highlight of my spring break....
Friday, March 10, 2006
I Just Got a New Caedmon's Call cd...
I'll marry you if you can dance,
That's what I said,
Cause where I'm goin', they'll be dancing every day
And I'm gonna dance...
That's what I said,
Cause where I'm goin', they'll be dancing every day
And I'm gonna dance...
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Thoughts from the Past Few Weeks
There is no particular order or coherence to the following list...
- Jesus is both gentle and fierce--gentle with prostitutes and sinners and fierce with Pharisees--and I think we often get the two mixed up. We're gentle with the white-washed sinners and fierce with the blatant sinners. But we need to follow in the ways of our Savior.
- I am completely inadequate in every way. Just when I start to think I might be actually helping people, I go to Skid Row and stand in the pouring rain, feeling utterly helpless. Helpless to give these people shelter from the cold and wet, helpless to fill their stomachs except for this small, cold taco in my hand, helpless to make them see that their situation will never be better until they surrender their lives to God. All I can do is tell them...about God's love and righteousness and plan for the redemption of the world...I can't change them at all. I am nothing without Him.
- Alarms mean nothing when you've only had one hour of sleep the night before.
- When I'm depressed for no reason, it helps to go and lay on a blanket and look at the stars and search my heart. Because you know what? I'm usually depressed because of unconfessed sin, because my only Joy I have pushed to the side, because I deem other, temporal things to be more important.
- Strong Bad is insanely funny...and even more so at 4 am.
- Talking to your friends from home is "good like medicine."
- Some Californians will not drive in the rain. If I was that way in Bellingham, I would have never gone anywhere.
- I've decided what I'm looking for in a man. Now God will proceed to show me how very wrong I am...
- It's nice to know people--to begin to understand your roommate on a deeper level than the surface and how to live together without strife, to make friends whom you can talk with about anything, and to see God bringing your lives together for "mutual edification."
- Valentines Day as a single girl doesn't hurt if you're looking to how you can serve others.
- My heart broke for the young teens in Uganda, so much so that I wrote a fragment of a poem:
Dark eyes in a dark face
Stare from the depths of a dark heart
The hope of Uganda
With hopeless eyes...
I couldn't finish--there's too much in my heart and I can't find the right words. Actually, reading back over this, these aren't the right words. Oh, for the tongue of Heaven! I am glad the Holy Spirit intercedes for me with "groanings too deep for words." - "God will take you where you do not want to go in order to produce in you what you could not achieve on your own...We had better start encouraging one another with the theology of uncomfortable grace. You don't need the grace of relief right now, you need the grace of refinement." --from chapel with Paul Tripp
- "My purpose in the life of every person I come in contact with is to have them walk away from each conversation more like Jesus." --paraphrased from chapel with Tom Rios
- God opens up amazing opportunities for relationships with non-Christians where I've not expected them. Remember the kids I babysit? The 12 year old girl has really opened up to me lately and we're developing a relationship, and she'll actually open up to me about deep and important things. So I'm really praising God for that!
If you have some time and want to be convicted (ok, you might have time and not want to be convicted...), you should read some of Gunner's blog. He's the RD at Oak Manor, one of the guys dorms here. http://www.xanga.com/gunner23 (Sorry, I'm not good at html.)
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Look, Miriam, I'm Updating
You scored as English. You should be an English major! Your passion lies in writing and expressing yourself creatively, and you hate it when you are inhibited from doing so. Pursue that interest of yours!
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Sunday, January 29, 2006
Coolant and Independance
Cars are a mystery to me. My dad is a mechanic, but I always tell people that doesn’t mean I know a thing about cars. I have a basic grasp of how to put gas in the tank and that’s about the extent of my knowledge. When my car overheated last August, I ended up in the corner of a parking lot with a jug of coolant and no idea how to get the hood open. The inner workings of an engine are things better left inner workings, I once believed. But moving to college has moved me away from my mechanic-on-call, and I’ve had to face the beast of this strange technology for the first time.
And it is a fearsome beast for one who is interested in anything but automotive repair. At 15, I refused to read the parts of the driver’s guide on how to change a tire. At 17, I called my dad for the smallest noise my car was making. And now, at 19, I find that I have to learn to deal with these things on my own. This frightens me and I try to avoid it at all costs.
In my world, my dad always took care of my car for me. I never needed to wonder when the next scheduled maintenance was because my appointment was already scheduled at his shop. I never had to worry about being stranded on the side of the road because I knew the best mechanic in town would drop whatever else he was working on and come to my rescue. Now he cannot come over a thousand miles just because my car is making a strange banging noise. I must learn to open the hood myself and make sure no key parts have come off or come loose, and then I must find a mechanic who will honestly diagnose and fix my car. I must learn where the coolant goes and where the oil goes and where all those other strange fluids belong and learn not to confuse them in a frantic state of emergency. I must learn to do it on my own, without my knowledgeable father watching every move.
It’s all a part of my growing independence and that is why taking care of my car scares me. It is not because all those spark plugs and belts and radiators and driveshafts are frightening in and of themselves, but it is because I am frightened of my own independence. I would rather not be reminded that I am growing up now and I must learn to face things on my own; I want to have my dad take care of everything for me just as he always did. I hate the change and the autonomy that taking care of my own car symbolizes. But trying to avoid that conflict is impossible with a 1993 Escort that insists on malfunctioning, and so I find myself needing to assume more responsibility. The mystery of the hood latch has been untangled and I am becoming more and more independent. But I still miss my dad’s greasy mechanic hands ensuring that I would always be safe on the roads.
And it is a fearsome beast for one who is interested in anything but automotive repair. At 15, I refused to read the parts of the driver’s guide on how to change a tire. At 17, I called my dad for the smallest noise my car was making. And now, at 19, I find that I have to learn to deal with these things on my own. This frightens me and I try to avoid it at all costs.
In my world, my dad always took care of my car for me. I never needed to wonder when the next scheduled maintenance was because my appointment was already scheduled at his shop. I never had to worry about being stranded on the side of the road because I knew the best mechanic in town would drop whatever else he was working on and come to my rescue. Now he cannot come over a thousand miles just because my car is making a strange banging noise. I must learn to open the hood myself and make sure no key parts have come off or come loose, and then I must find a mechanic who will honestly diagnose and fix my car. I must learn where the coolant goes and where the oil goes and where all those other strange fluids belong and learn not to confuse them in a frantic state of emergency. I must learn to do it on my own, without my knowledgeable father watching every move.
It’s all a part of my growing independence and that is why taking care of my car scares me. It is not because all those spark plugs and belts and radiators and driveshafts are frightening in and of themselves, but it is because I am frightened of my own independence. I would rather not be reminded that I am growing up now and I must learn to face things on my own; I want to have my dad take care of everything for me just as he always did. I hate the change and the autonomy that taking care of my own car symbolizes. But trying to avoid that conflict is impossible with a 1993 Escort that insists on malfunctioning, and so I find myself needing to assume more responsibility. The mystery of the hood latch has been untangled and I am becoming more and more independent. But I still miss my dad’s greasy mechanic hands ensuring that I would always be safe on the roads.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
To All Those Back Home
Hello my dear ones,
Well, I'm back in CA...and in some ways it feels like I never left. Life is settling back into a routine and for that I am very grateful. Classes began yesterday and my babysitting job starts up again today. I still have a few more loose ends to tie up, but everything seems to be going well.
I'm really excited for my classes this semester because I can already tell that I'm about to be stretched in ways I've never experienced before, both mentally and emotionally. My professors who teach the bulk of my classes have a reputation for humiliating their students in the interest of learning. And I don't like to be humiliated! My pride is already telling me that this was a mistake, but I'm praying hard for humility and I know these classes will be an excellent lesson for me both academically and spiritually.
My two conferences were excellent! I'm overwhelmed by the sheer bulk of the material that was covered and all the ways I was convicted. I keep going over my notes and finding new things that strike me. So there is a post simmering in my mind, but it's not sure of the direction it's going to take yet. :-) But I do know that I have been stimulated and encouraged to live this next semester for the glory of God, and I've been taking steps to help me be disciplined in this. And so far this semester has seen a more organized use of my time and a better awareness of my priorities than the last one. So I'm excited about what happening!
I love and miss all of y'all and am so grateful for the refreshment of break and spending time with you. It helped me reevaluate what makes friendship precious--and you are very precious to me indeed! Please keep me up-to-date on how I can be praying....I have a cell phone now with free nights and weekends, so I can stay in touch more cheaply! Email if you want the number.
Much Love,
Jillian
Well, I'm back in CA...and in some ways it feels like I never left. Life is settling back into a routine and for that I am very grateful. Classes began yesterday and my babysitting job starts up again today. I still have a few more loose ends to tie up, but everything seems to be going well.
I'm really excited for my classes this semester because I can already tell that I'm about to be stretched in ways I've never experienced before, both mentally and emotionally. My professors who teach the bulk of my classes have a reputation for humiliating their students in the interest of learning. And I don't like to be humiliated! My pride is already telling me that this was a mistake, but I'm praying hard for humility and I know these classes will be an excellent lesson for me both academically and spiritually.
My two conferences were excellent! I'm overwhelmed by the sheer bulk of the material that was covered and all the ways I was convicted. I keep going over my notes and finding new things that strike me. So there is a post simmering in my mind, but it's not sure of the direction it's going to take yet. :-) But I do know that I have been stimulated and encouraged to live this next semester for the glory of God, and I've been taking steps to help me be disciplined in this. And so far this semester has seen a more organized use of my time and a better awareness of my priorities than the last one. So I'm excited about what happening!
I love and miss all of y'all and am so grateful for the refreshment of break and spending time with you. It helped me reevaluate what makes friendship precious--and you are very precious to me indeed! Please keep me up-to-date on how I can be praying....I have a cell phone now with free nights and weekends, so I can stay in touch more cheaply! Email if you want the number.
Much Love,
Jillian
Sunday, January 22, 2006
I Want to be Like That...
...like kids when I give them Bible for the very first time, like when they sit immediately down on the sidewalk to eagerly begin reading because they are so excited to read the very words of God. I want a hunger for God's words like that.
I want to be like that...
...like CJ Mahaney when he reads the Bible out loud. The words sound as if they're the most precious to ever cross his lips--because they are. I want a reverence like that.
I want to be like that...
...like Jesus who loved me so infinitely that He went to the cross...for me. Like Jesus who didn't think highly of Himself but lived to serve others and to do His Father's will.
I just want to be more like Jesus.
I want to be like that...
...like CJ Mahaney when he reads the Bible out loud. The words sound as if they're the most precious to ever cross his lips--because they are. I want a reverence like that.
I want to be like that...
...like Jesus who loved me so infinitely that He went to the cross...for me. Like Jesus who didn't think highly of Himself but lived to serve others and to do His Father's will.
I just want to be more like Jesus.
Monday, January 02, 2006
Reflections on 2005
What did you do in 2005 that you'd never done before? Moved out of state, lived in a dorm, got a safety playing flag football...
Did you keep your New Years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I almost kept it--my resolution was to read thru the Bible and I made it to 2 Peter. Almost there! This year I resolve to procrastinate less.
Did anyone close to you give birth? No
Did anyone close to you die? Myself..."unless a kernel of wheat falls into the ground and dies"
What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005? A better prayer life
What date from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? I guess something to do with going to college--either the day I left for CA or the day I moved in at Master's
What was your biggest achievement of the year? I'm still trying to figure out what exactly it is that I achieved...it's very hard to put it into words
What was your biggest failure? Let's just say I screwed up a lot, but I have been forgiven and that's what matters!
Did you suffer illness or injury? Yup...I have a knack for getting myself so stressed out that I get sick...
What was the best thing you bought? My super cool leather journal from Barnes and Noble
Whose behavior merited celebration? Hmm...I think this is my least favorite question on this annual survey because it's hard to choose...or something...
Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? My own
Where did most of your money go? Paying for college
What did you get really, really, really excited about? Ministry
What song will always remind you of 2005? "Out of My League" by Stephen Speaks...because I listened to it a lot!
What do you wish you'd done more of? Crying over my sin and God's grace and the incredible needs in the world
What do you wish you'd done less of? Living for my self
Did you fall in love in 2005? Like last year, deeper every day (with my savior...don't freak out peoples!)
What was the best book you read? This awesome love letter from my Lord and Savior...
What was your greatest musical discovery?/new artist for 2005? Stephen Speaks
What did you want and get? The movie "Independence Day" from my incredibly good-looking brothers :-)
What was your favorite film of this year? Pride and Prejudice
What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? Well...on the actual day I went to class, did homework, babysat and tutored. But my mom via my roommate threw me a surprise party the night before. Oh, and I turned 19. It's been a good age so far.
What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Funny how my last year's answer works again this year: "Deeper faith in God and His perfect control"
How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2005? Skirts and flip-flops. My mom would groan whenever I went shopping and brought home yet another skirt, but I love them!
What kept you sane? Faith in God's sovereignty
What political issue stirred you the most? The Iraq war and the death of Terry Schaivo and the constant struggle with what to do in Skid Row in LA
Who did you miss? Everyone in Bellingham
Who was the best new person you met? I met too many awesome new friends to choose
Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005: I am a horribly selfish person who lives for my own desires, but I ought to live a life abandoned to service
Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: "It's funny how you find you enjoy your life when you're happy to be alive"--Reliant K
Did you keep your New Years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I almost kept it--my resolution was to read thru the Bible and I made it to 2 Peter. Almost there! This year I resolve to procrastinate less.
Did anyone close to you give birth? No
Did anyone close to you die? Myself..."unless a kernel of wheat falls into the ground and dies"
What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005? A better prayer life
What date from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? I guess something to do with going to college--either the day I left for CA or the day I moved in at Master's
What was your biggest achievement of the year? I'm still trying to figure out what exactly it is that I achieved...it's very hard to put it into words
What was your biggest failure? Let's just say I screwed up a lot, but I have been forgiven and that's what matters!
Did you suffer illness or injury? Yup...I have a knack for getting myself so stressed out that I get sick...
What was the best thing you bought? My super cool leather journal from Barnes and Noble
Whose behavior merited celebration? Hmm...I think this is my least favorite question on this annual survey because it's hard to choose...or something...
Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? My own
Where did most of your money go? Paying for college
What did you get really, really, really excited about? Ministry
What song will always remind you of 2005? "Out of My League" by Stephen Speaks...because I listened to it a lot!
What do you wish you'd done more of? Crying over my sin and God's grace and the incredible needs in the world
What do you wish you'd done less of? Living for my self
Did you fall in love in 2005? Like last year, deeper every day (with my savior...don't freak out peoples!)
What was the best book you read? This awesome love letter from my Lord and Savior...
What was your greatest musical discovery?/new artist for 2005? Stephen Speaks
What did you want and get? The movie "Independence Day" from my incredibly good-looking brothers :-)
What was your favorite film of this year? Pride and Prejudice
What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? Well...on the actual day I went to class, did homework, babysat and tutored. But my mom via my roommate threw me a surprise party the night before. Oh, and I turned 19. It's been a good age so far.
What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Funny how my last year's answer works again this year: "Deeper faith in God and His perfect control"
How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2005? Skirts and flip-flops. My mom would groan whenever I went shopping and brought home yet another skirt, but I love them!
What kept you sane? Faith in God's sovereignty
What political issue stirred you the most? The Iraq war and the death of Terry Schaivo and the constant struggle with what to do in Skid Row in LA
Who did you miss? Everyone in Bellingham
Who was the best new person you met? I met too many awesome new friends to choose
Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005: I am a horribly selfish person who lives for my own desires, but I ought to live a life abandoned to service
Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: "It's funny how you find you enjoy your life when you're happy to be alive"--Reliant K
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