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.

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...

The highest and the greatest expression of faith in the whole Bible is---"Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him." (Job 13:15)

- Oswald Chambers

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 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,

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;

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?