Today has been marked by mistakes. A number of poor choices I've made in the past few months have caught up with me and I have spent the majority of my day asking people for forgiveness and feeling awkward with my life. Ranging from venting to someone who later transmitted my offensive rant to the very person of whom it was about, to having a perpetually messy room, my life seems to be spiraling out of my control.
And I'm tempted to believe that what I should really be doing is apologizing for my life. I'm sorry that I've over-committed myself so as to not have the mental/emotional/spiritual energy to make wiser choices. I'm sorry that I haven't spent time with God to drink in his wisdom. I'm sorry I had to open my big mouth (and fingers) and say things that not only reflected poorly on other people, but made me look like a JERK and an IDIOT. I'm sorry that Erick is in turmoil right now about our relationship because I'm not sure about it. I don't know what I think.
Today should have been a day to spend in bed, staying out of the way and hoping people would forget my existence, and thus, my offending ways. Today is a day to cry out with Job, "I am disgusted with my life. Let me complain freely. I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.... If I am guilty, too bad for me. And even if I'm innocent, I am filled with shame and misery so that I can't hold my head high.... Why, then, did you bring me out of my mother's womb? Why didn't you let me die at birth? Then I would have been spared this miserable existence. I would have gone directly from the womb to the grave."
Today is a day that I feel like my life is a mistake.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
The Sun is Shining
Raindrops are randomly running down the window, making the wall which is just outside of my office look a little more bleary than usual. The sky is overcast and thunder can be heard in the distance. All this is highly unusual for Southern California in September.
But within me, the sun is brightly shining, even to the degree of a blinding light. Last night I was sung to (song: "Green Eyes" by Coldplay) and then asked to be a girlfriend. Wow. No kiss was ever sweeter than that given when he told me that he had talked to my dad and gotten his blessing.
Today life is beautiful.
But within me, the sun is brightly shining, even to the degree of a blinding light. Last night I was sung to (song: "Green Eyes" by Coldplay) and then asked to be a girlfriend. Wow. No kiss was ever sweeter than that given when he told me that he had talked to my dad and gotten his blessing.
Today life is beautiful.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
unsettled
like a still pond beginning to ripple, disturbed by a falling leaf
like a stone rolling downhill, beginning an avalanche
like a child chosen last for a ball game
like an inexperienced skier at the top of a slope
left over, yet on the verge of something
totally expended, but with so much potential, so much to give
to spin the wheels and have them meet firm ground!
to see the end before embarking on the journey!
to walk by sight rather than by faith!
where to go? what to do? which road in the yellow wood?
what of the road already traveled? of the voice spoken to the heart?
to be able to cling to be immovable rock and not let go . . . !
like a stone rolling downhill, beginning an avalanche
like a child chosen last for a ball game
like an inexperienced skier at the top of a slope
left over, yet on the verge of something
totally expended, but with so much potential, so much to give
to spin the wheels and have them meet firm ground!
to see the end before embarking on the journey!
to walk by sight rather than by faith!
where to go? what to do? which road in the yellow wood?
what of the road already traveled? of the voice spoken to the heart?
to be able to cling to be immovable rock and not let go . . . !
Sunday, August 21, 2005
As my 25th birthday rapidly approaches, I've been thinking a lot: what have I done with my life? What have I to show for the years of life I've been given? Am I following God's will? What does the future hold? Dare I put down roots in Downey? What things in my life need to change?
I've been reading in 2 Kings, about how some kings were bad, others worse, and others were actually good and followed God. But even with the good ones, there were varying degrees of godliness. Only a few followed God like David, removing the necessary things from the kingdom and their subjects' lives . The rest of the good kings loved God, but not like king David, because they left the high places and the Asherah poles, which led to the people's downfall, as they reverted back to old habits, traditions of godlessness. And of course, I count myself in with those whose heart was like David, following God so carefully. But instead, I think I might just belong in the Asherah pole-loving group, those who kept their high places of worship. I know that their are things in my life that I have sealed and marked as "off limits" to God; what are they? The fact that I can't even easily identify them seems to be a sign of complacency, of having become so comfortable with them that I don't even recognize anymore that they don't belong here.
I long for my Asherah poles to be cut down, for my high places to be smashed. For I, "except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except You ravish me."
I've been reading in 2 Kings, about how some kings were bad, others worse, and others were actually good and followed God. But even with the good ones, there were varying degrees of godliness. Only a few followed God like David, removing the necessary things from the kingdom and their subjects' lives . The rest of the good kings loved God, but not like king David, because they left the high places and the Asherah poles, which led to the people's downfall, as they reverted back to old habits, traditions of godlessness. And of course, I count myself in with those whose heart was like David, following God so carefully. But instead, I think I might just belong in the Asherah pole-loving group, those who kept their high places of worship. I know that their are things in my life that I have sealed and marked as "off limits" to God; what are they? The fact that I can't even easily identify them seems to be a sign of complacency, of having become so comfortable with them that I don't even recognize anymore that they don't belong here.
I long for my Asherah poles to be cut down, for my high places to be smashed. For I, "except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except You ravish me."
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Where The Darkness of my Heart Know No Bounds
Formerly titled "Where Feces Dot the Landscape"
I made my way through the streets of Samborondón, Ecuador, picking my way between the piles of animal droppings that covered the unpaved roads. My flip flops were thin, and certainly no match for the sharp rocks and rusty nails that lined my path. I had been sticky before leaving the church, having covered myself in mosquito repellent, but now, as the sun beat down on our group, my sweat began to mingle with the repellent, creating a truly unwelcome experience on my skin. Unpleasant smells wafted up to my nose.
My cold was getting worse, despite (or perhaps because of?) the sweltering heat. As I blew my nose one more time, I tried to focus on my surroundings rather than my rapidly deteriorating mood. We were passing marshy areas, where houses were built directly over the green waters on precarious beams. Some residents had begun to build brick houses, as opposed to the bamboo constructions which surrounded them, but for reasons unknown, had been unable to finish them, and now the local flora had taken over. We passed a house built entirely of concrete which had been recently painted. I silently wondered if drug dealers lived there, since it looked like a mansion in comparison to the other houses. On the few rough, unfinished brick walls of the neighborhood, names of political candidates had been painted, adding a limited amount of color to our drab surroundings.
Children could be heard, playing both indoors and out. Animals of all kinds, ranging from mangy dogs to sparsely-feathered ducks and turkeys to dirty pigs, wallowed in the dust and mud. Adults, mainly weary women, went about their daily chores. They washed, cooked and scrubbed, all the while keeping their shoulders slumped. Any twinkle that may have resided in their eyes before was now long gone. Disappointment seemed to mark their every step.
As I walked, I wondered what I was doing here. I like to think that I am a compassionate person, but now I am starkly aware that I have limits on showing compassion. I like to serve others as long as I am within my comfort zone. I will gladly send money to my "adopted" child in Thailand. And I can write notes easily enough to encourage missionaries around the world from the safety and security of my computer. Sure, I'll willingly give someone a ride, if it's on my way. And I'll read an occasional missionary biography, so I feel good that I'm opening my mind to other people and their needs.
But maybe my heart also contains the black seed that is within these people. However, where their blackness comes out in more visible ways, such as adultery, drunkenness, satanic rituals, thievery and homosexuality, mine fills the dark recesses of my soul with pride, arrogance, selfishness, judgmentalism and impatience. And the consequences of their choices, like poverty, abuse, suicide and families torn to shreds, are viewed by most to be ugly welts in the social fabric. However, the consequences of my sin are self-aggrandizement, isolation, loneliness, pushing others away, and the loss of sensitivity in my heart. These infect society at every level and are just as destructive (or dare I say more destructive?) to the human soul.
I am no better than these people, despite my great comforts at home, despite the fact that I make more in a month than entire families make in a year. Any my closet, despite being more sparse and older than those of most of my friends, would be considered to hold the clothing of a queen. And yet, I am no worse than them either, despite their contentment and joyful community living. God created us both, and loves us equally, an idea which is so difficult for me to grasp.
I have been humbled. God took me through a difficult journey to discover the blackness of my own heart. Yet I return to my home blessed, full of thankfulness. My view of the world has changed, and I pray that it will never again be the same.
I made my way through the streets of Samborondón, Ecuador, picking my way between the piles of animal droppings that covered the unpaved roads. My flip flops were thin, and certainly no match for the sharp rocks and rusty nails that lined my path. I had been sticky before leaving the church, having covered myself in mosquito repellent, but now, as the sun beat down on our group, my sweat began to mingle with the repellent, creating a truly unwelcome experience on my skin. Unpleasant smells wafted up to my nose.
My cold was getting worse, despite (or perhaps because of?) the sweltering heat. As I blew my nose one more time, I tried to focus on my surroundings rather than my rapidly deteriorating mood. We were passing marshy areas, where houses were built directly over the green waters on precarious beams. Some residents had begun to build brick houses, as opposed to the bamboo constructions which surrounded them, but for reasons unknown, had been unable to finish them, and now the local flora had taken over. We passed a house built entirely of concrete which had been recently painted. I silently wondered if drug dealers lived there, since it looked like a mansion in comparison to the other houses. On the few rough, unfinished brick walls of the neighborhood, names of political candidates had been painted, adding a limited amount of color to our drab surroundings.
Children could be heard, playing both indoors and out. Animals of all kinds, ranging from mangy dogs to sparsely-feathered ducks and turkeys to dirty pigs, wallowed in the dust and mud. Adults, mainly weary women, went about their daily chores. They washed, cooked and scrubbed, all the while keeping their shoulders slumped. Any twinkle that may have resided in their eyes before was now long gone. Disappointment seemed to mark their every step.
As I walked, I wondered what I was doing here. I like to think that I am a compassionate person, but now I am starkly aware that I have limits on showing compassion. I like to serve others as long as I am within my comfort zone. I will gladly send money to my "adopted" child in Thailand. And I can write notes easily enough to encourage missionaries around the world from the safety and security of my computer. Sure, I'll willingly give someone a ride, if it's on my way. And I'll read an occasional missionary biography, so I feel good that I'm opening my mind to other people and their needs.
But maybe my heart also contains the black seed that is within these people. However, where their blackness comes out in more visible ways, such as adultery, drunkenness, satanic rituals, thievery and homosexuality, mine fills the dark recesses of my soul with pride, arrogance, selfishness, judgmentalism and impatience. And the consequences of their choices, like poverty, abuse, suicide and families torn to shreds, are viewed by most to be ugly welts in the social fabric. However, the consequences of my sin are self-aggrandizement, isolation, loneliness, pushing others away, and the loss of sensitivity in my heart. These infect society at every level and are just as destructive (or dare I say more destructive?) to the human soul.
I am no better than these people, despite my great comforts at home, despite the fact that I make more in a month than entire families make in a year. Any my closet, despite being more sparse and older than those of most of my friends, would be considered to hold the clothing of a queen. And yet, I am no worse than them either, despite their contentment and joyful community living. God created us both, and loves us equally, an idea which is so difficult for me to grasp.
I have been humbled. God took me through a difficult journey to discover the blackness of my own heart. Yet I return to my home blessed, full of thankfulness. My view of the world has changed, and I pray that it will never again be the same.
Friday, July 01, 2005
creativeness in work
Tomorrow I leave for Ecuador, and will not have time to write for a while. So, taking the easy way out, here are a couple of quotes from Dorothy L. Sayers, as her thoughts have been in my mind lately.
"...the fallacy being that work is not the expression of man's creative energy in the service of Society, but only something he does in order to obtain money and leisure...
if a man's fulfilment of his nature is to be found in the full expression of his divine creativeness, then we urgently need a Christian doctrine of work, which shall provide, not only for proper conditions of employment, but also that the work shall be such as a man may do with his whole heart, and that he shall do it for the very work's sake."
and another:
"If that's the way your mind works, you'll be a writer one day," said Wimsey.
"Do you think so? How funny! That's what I want to be. But why?"
"Because you have the creative imagination, which works outwards, till finally you will be able to stand outside your own experience and see it as something you have made, existing independently of yourself. You're lucky."
"Do you really think so?" Hilary looked excited.
"Yes--but your luck will come more at the end of life than at the beginning, because the other sort of people won't understand the way your mind works. They will start by thinking you dreamy and romantic, and then they'll be surprised to discover that you are really hard and heartless. They'll be quite wrong both times--but they won't ever know it, and you won't know it at first, and it'll worry you."
"But that's just what the girls say at school. How did you know? . . . Though they're all idiots--mostly, that is."
"Most people are," said Wimsey, gravely, "but it isn't kind to tell them so. I expect you do tell them so. Have a heart; they can't help it. . . ."
so goes the dialogue between Wimsey and a sixteen-year old girl.
"...the fallacy being that work is not the expression of man's creative energy in the service of Society, but only something he does in order to obtain money and leisure...
if a man's fulfilment of his nature is to be found in the full expression of his divine creativeness, then we urgently need a Christian doctrine of work, which shall provide, not only for proper conditions of employment, but also that the work shall be such as a man may do with his whole heart, and that he shall do it for the very work's sake."
and another:
"If that's the way your mind works, you'll be a writer one day," said Wimsey.
"Do you think so? How funny! That's what I want to be. But why?"
"Because you have the creative imagination, which works outwards, till finally you will be able to stand outside your own experience and see it as something you have made, existing independently of yourself. You're lucky."
"Do you really think so?" Hilary looked excited.
"Yes--but your luck will come more at the end of life than at the beginning, because the other sort of people won't understand the way your mind works. They will start by thinking you dreamy and romantic, and then they'll be surprised to discover that you are really hard and heartless. They'll be quite wrong both times--but they won't ever know it, and you won't know it at first, and it'll worry you."
"But that's just what the girls say at school. How did you know? . . . Though they're all idiots--mostly, that is."
"Most people are," said Wimsey, gravely, "but it isn't kind to tell them so. I expect you do tell them so. Have a heart; they can't help it. . . ."
so goes the dialogue between Wimsey and a sixteen-year old girl.
Friday, June 24, 2005
the intellect
I like to think that I am an intellectual. I enjoy knowing things and writing as if I know them better than I actually do. I take pleasure in spending long hours between the tall bookcases of the library or in front of a computer screen doing endless research just to answer a simple query which has risen to my conscious mind. But when it comes time to put all this knowledge in a usable form, when the rubber has to meet the road, panicked thoughts of bailing out cross my mind (which really is odd, as I lean towards pragmatism).
However, I like showing off my bluff, puffing myself up as a blowfish while others are around, only to deflate rather rapidly when someone asks a question which pokes beyond my skill. And perhaps it also has to do with the fact that I am a perfectionist and don't like for anyone to see weakness in me. But I am also a woman, and while I am proud of this fact, I also see it as a disadvantage, because women are often viewed (correctly or otherwise) as being weaker. If I can only convince other people that there is much more beneath the surface, then I become desirable as a friend, my insights are appreciated, and I gain a certain status.
What I would rather do and who I would rather become looks more like Dorothy L. Sayers. From her biography by Barbara Reynolds:
"Dorothy L. Sayers regarded the intellect as androgynous--neither male nor female, but human, and she took pleasure in using it, as she did in using her writing skills."
I suppose that means I would actually have to put forth the effort to use my intellect, rather than simply relish the fact that I might have what it takes to be an intellectual. But then I find myself caught up in a rat race, trying to keep up with all the latest thought trends, the books my friends are reading, and current events around the world. And just the thought of that makes me exhausted.
Is there such a thing as a lazy intellectual? Perhaps I could fit into that category...
However, I like showing off my bluff, puffing myself up as a blowfish while others are around, only to deflate rather rapidly when someone asks a question which pokes beyond my skill. And perhaps it also has to do with the fact that I am a perfectionist and don't like for anyone to see weakness in me. But I am also a woman, and while I am proud of this fact, I also see it as a disadvantage, because women are often viewed (correctly or otherwise) as being weaker. If I can only convince other people that there is much more beneath the surface, then I become desirable as a friend, my insights are appreciated, and I gain a certain status.
What I would rather do and who I would rather become looks more like Dorothy L. Sayers. From her biography by Barbara Reynolds:
"Dorothy L. Sayers regarded the intellect as androgynous--neither male nor female, but human, and she took pleasure in using it, as she did in using her writing skills."
I suppose that means I would actually have to put forth the effort to use my intellect, rather than simply relish the fact that I might have what it takes to be an intellectual. But then I find myself caught up in a rat race, trying to keep up with all the latest thought trends, the books my friends are reading, and current events around the world. And just the thought of that makes me exhausted.
Is there such a thing as a lazy intellectual? Perhaps I could fit into that category...
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
what susan said
i recently went home.
what a loaded sentence--can you ever return home? where is home, anyway?
this past week i realized that, while i had come to terms and become comfortable with the fact that i had finally moved on with my post-college life, i wasn't quite ready for my family and friends to do so.
thankfully, some things are still the same. i can still get into the movies in joplin for free, which means that thom remains in town. i still stayed out until 2 or 3 a.m., enjoying the company of close friends. my brother and i went to see the newest installment of star wars, as we have five times before. my sister and i, as we often have in the past, went out to eat, watched movies, and talked about how life has turned out differently than we may have expected.
but now my brother has girl friends he spends more time with than his family. my sister is going to get her master's in counseling, at which i know she will excel, but leaves me feeling left behind. my parents are often out traveling, just the two of them, meeting people i will probably never know, unlike when we were growing up and went everywhere together. my friends will soon be moving on with their lives, too, going places and doing things of which i am no longer a part.
so my melancholic temperament came out full force, demanding my complete attention, then leaving me at the bottom of a (figurative) bottle. i then rediscovered an old cd i had, by the poet, rich mullins.
from "what susan said", based on proverbs 27:5-10 & philemon 12
and we both feel lost
but I remember what Susan said
how love is found in the things we've given up
more than in the things that we have kept
and ain't it funny what people say
and ain't it funny what people write
and ain't it funny how it hits you so hard
in the middle of the night
and if your home is just another place where you're a stranger
and far away is just somewhere you've never been
i hope that you'll remember, i was your friend
i hope you'll have the strength to just remember
i'm still your friend
so, while i won't resort to another round of "friends are friends forever", i am grateful for the kindred spirits i have discovered at the intersection of our paths. erin, victor, jonathan, charro, ceri, erica, solomon, thom, pam, kelly--every place i've been is marked by a blessed friendship, someone who has helped me grow and see God in a new light. and although moving on is so extremely difficult for me, i thank God for the pleasantness of my friends, springing from their earnest counsel (prov 27:9).
and while i know life is meant to constantly evolve into something new rather than remain static, i also know that certain things, such as the way thom can get under my skin, will never change. and what a comfort that is.
what a loaded sentence--can you ever return home? where is home, anyway?
this past week i realized that, while i had come to terms and become comfortable with the fact that i had finally moved on with my post-college life, i wasn't quite ready for my family and friends to do so.
thankfully, some things are still the same. i can still get into the movies in joplin for free, which means that thom remains in town. i still stayed out until 2 or 3 a.m., enjoying the company of close friends. my brother and i went to see the newest installment of star wars, as we have five times before. my sister and i, as we often have in the past, went out to eat, watched movies, and talked about how life has turned out differently than we may have expected.
but now my brother has girl friends he spends more time with than his family. my sister is going to get her master's in counseling, at which i know she will excel, but leaves me feeling left behind. my parents are often out traveling, just the two of them, meeting people i will probably never know, unlike when we were growing up and went everywhere together. my friends will soon be moving on with their lives, too, going places and doing things of which i am no longer a part.
so my melancholic temperament came out full force, demanding my complete attention, then leaving me at the bottom of a (figurative) bottle. i then rediscovered an old cd i had, by the poet, rich mullins.
from "what susan said", based on proverbs 27:5-10 & philemon 12
and we both feel lost
but I remember what Susan said
how love is found in the things we've given up
more than in the things that we have kept
and ain't it funny what people say
and ain't it funny what people write
and ain't it funny how it hits you so hard
in the middle of the night
and if your home is just another place where you're a stranger
and far away is just somewhere you've never been
i hope that you'll remember, i was your friend
i hope you'll have the strength to just remember
i'm still your friend
so, while i won't resort to another round of "friends are friends forever", i am grateful for the kindred spirits i have discovered at the intersection of our paths. erin, victor, jonathan, charro, ceri, erica, solomon, thom, pam, kelly--every place i've been is marked by a blessed friendship, someone who has helped me grow and see God in a new light. and although moving on is so extremely difficult for me, i thank God for the pleasantness of my friends, springing from their earnest counsel (prov 27:9).
and while i know life is meant to constantly evolve into something new rather than remain static, i also know that certain things, such as the way thom can get under my skin, will never change. and what a comfort that is.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
creativeness
"Man is most god-like and most himself when he is occupied in creation . . . Our worst trouble today is our feeble hold on creation."
~Dorothy L. Sayers
Sayers went on to say that "we are never so truly ourselves as when we are actively creating something." How often do we see people leading lives of quiet desperation, stuck in jobs, relationships and couch potato activities, none of which have a creative outlet? How often does a "good job" seem to be wonderful at first, but then as the monotony of pushing papers and dealing with cranky customers and coworkers sinks in, the silver lining falls off, and our job becomes hellish?
It is in creating things that we find our sanity, because this is how we were programmed. Couples find fulfillment in creating a family; engineers, in designing structures and machines; intellectuals, in pioneering new ways and patterns of thinking; artists, in shaping new expressions of their souls.
Oh, that my life never be empty of creative power in expression . . .
~Dorothy L. Sayers
Sayers went on to say that "we are never so truly ourselves as when we are actively creating something." How often do we see people leading lives of quiet desperation, stuck in jobs, relationships and couch potato activities, none of which have a creative outlet? How often does a "good job" seem to be wonderful at first, but then as the monotony of pushing papers and dealing with cranky customers and coworkers sinks in, the silver lining falls off, and our job becomes hellish?
It is in creating things that we find our sanity, because this is how we were programmed. Couples find fulfillment in creating a family; engineers, in designing structures and machines; intellectuals, in pioneering new ways and patterns of thinking; artists, in shaping new expressions of their souls.
Oh, that my life never be empty of creative power in expression . . .
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
summer reading
One of my friends recently asked me which books I have on my summer reading list. I then had an epiphany--a summer reading list!! (Thanks Mr. Anonymous)
Currently, I'm working on these:
Currently, I'm working on these:
- Dorothy L. Sayers: Her Life and Soul by Barbara Reynolds; an excellent, well-rounded biography about one of the best women thinkers of the twentieth century
- Sex, God & Marriage by Johann Christoph Arnold; a book put out by Plough Publishing House, which I got on sale from CBD. Some chapters are really good, others are so-so in my view, perhaps because most of it doesn't apply to me. But a good overall consideration of the subject.
- The Next Christendom by Philip Jenkins; just finished the first chapter, but love the global and historical scope he presents of Christianity
As I seem to be addicted to buying whatever I find on sale at CBD, I'm making an effort to read the books I already have own. And then I will reward myself by buying a new book (or multiples thereof). Those marked with * are ones which already reside in my library.
Projected Summer Reading List:
- Letters to a Diminished Church: Passionate Arguments for the Relevance of Christian Doctrine* by Dorothy L. Sayers
- The remaining 7 Lord Peter Wimsey detective novels by Dorothy Sayers; recently finished Murder Must Advertise* in this series--it is one of the most clever books I have ever read. "Two thumbs up!" Heck, "Fifteen Thumbs up!" yeah, it really was that good.
- Sexual Ethics* by Stanley Grenz
- Anything I have left to read from Philip Yancey, which is not much . . . now, in true stalker mode, I'll have to track down all the essays he's ever written for Christianity Today
- The Problem of Pain* by C. S. Lewis; hopefully with a book club we are working on starting here in California
I suppose I could list out every book I own which I haven't read yet, but at the risk of boring the reader, I will desist. But I do have a request: any suggestions? glaring omissions?
Friday, May 20, 2005
sunday, bloody sunday
We are currently putting together a video to honor our children's ministry volunteers. In searching for the perfect music to have as the audio background, someone suggested "Like A Child" by Jars of Clay. But given that most of their volunteers come in on Sundays, i suggested that "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" by U2 might be more in tune with the theme.
No one seemed to listen to me, though...
No one seemed to listen to me, though...
Friday, May 13, 2005
boycotting lol
I am raising a worldwide cry to buck against the pressure of using "lol" and such shortcuts to express emotions in instant messaging. Be creative! For example, use increments of "ha"; "ha" would indicate a snort or short giggle, whereas "hahahahahahahahahaha" might be a belly laugh.
One of my friends once said that if you think you're a leader, you should look behind and see who or what is behind you. Do I dare cast a look over my shoulder?
One of my friends once said that if you think you're a leader, you should look behind and see who or what is behind you. Do I dare cast a look over my shoulder?
i think i'm looking at the Bible a little differently now...
So, a new power verse:
I finished Ruth, and am now working my way through 1 Samuel. And then, bam! It hit me . . . another Word directly from God.
"How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine."
1 Samuel 1:14
This one, I believe, especially speaks to Ozark students. How long are you going to act attentive in class, only to go party on the weekends? How long will you drag yourself out of bed, still hung over, just to kneel in chapel, as though truly worshiping (when we all know you simply can't keep your balance on your feet)? How long will you hypocritically hide your wine when with certain people, but pull it out when they are all gone?
And so (could I say it better myself?), "Put away your wine" (as well as your whine, but that will be left for another day, and another verse).
Peace.
I finished Ruth, and am now working my way through 1 Samuel. And then, bam! It hit me . . . another Word directly from God.
"How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine."
1 Samuel 1:14
This one, I believe, especially speaks to Ozark students. How long are you going to act attentive in class, only to go party on the weekends? How long will you drag yourself out of bed, still hung over, just to kneel in chapel, as though truly worshiping (when we all know you simply can't keep your balance on your feet)? How long will you hypocritically hide your wine when with certain people, but pull it out when they are all gone?
And so (could I say it better myself?), "Put away your wine" (as well as your whine, but that will be left for another day, and another verse).
Peace.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
this may come as a shock to some...
Just something I would like to share out of my journal (I'm afraid I got a bit carried away there at the end):
May 8, 2005
I just finished watching a movie about FDR (featuring Kenneth Branagh), in which I discovered that I love this country I live in! I love what it stands for, that all humans have equal standing, a reflection that we are all the same in God’s sight. I love the natural beauty, found at the wide expanse of the ocean, the magnificent national parks, and the quietly rolling fields of Missouri in an early morning dew, with graceful deer gliding across. I love the diversity; although we naturally gravitate towards those who are similar to us, there is so much to learn from those who are dissimilar. I love the fact that there is so much opportunity available to those who work hard. I love the national pride in the waving of a flag, saying that I am glad to belong here.
I guess before I thought that in order to love this country, I had to buy into the bigoted “U.S. Supremacy” idea, that no other place could even come close to comparing. But I haven’t completely swung the other way, saying that the U.S. is perfect, the best this world has ever seen, or that I’ve given up my loyalties to Chile. The truth is, I still love Chile, as a grown child who sees the faults of a parent, realizing that no one is perfect, but chooses to still love them because of gratitude, and all those things that even so makes her smile.
And oh! If I can love the countries of my earthly citizenship so much, recognizing that they are not perfect, yet proudly waving their flags within my heart, shall I not more be able to love the kingdom of my true citizenship? And how my heart yearns within me for a perfect country, without imperfections which must be explained to non-citizens!
Although a citizen, I have felt like an outsider my entire life! Yet one day, people will be able to identify me by my characteristics, knowing exactly where my citizenship lies. And then I will finally have come home!
Oh, to reach with mortal fingers and grasp immortality!
Oh, to dream within a finite mind of the riches of infinity…
May 8, 2005
I just finished watching a movie about FDR (featuring Kenneth Branagh), in which I discovered that I love this country I live in! I love what it stands for, that all humans have equal standing, a reflection that we are all the same in God’s sight. I love the natural beauty, found at the wide expanse of the ocean, the magnificent national parks, and the quietly rolling fields of Missouri in an early morning dew, with graceful deer gliding across. I love the diversity; although we naturally gravitate towards those who are similar to us, there is so much to learn from those who are dissimilar. I love the fact that there is so much opportunity available to those who work hard. I love the national pride in the waving of a flag, saying that I am glad to belong here.
I guess before I thought that in order to love this country, I had to buy into the bigoted “U.S. Supremacy” idea, that no other place could even come close to comparing. But I haven’t completely swung the other way, saying that the U.S. is perfect, the best this world has ever seen, or that I’ve given up my loyalties to Chile. The truth is, I still love Chile, as a grown child who sees the faults of a parent, realizing that no one is perfect, but chooses to still love them because of gratitude, and all those things that even so makes her smile.
And oh! If I can love the countries of my earthly citizenship so much, recognizing that they are not perfect, yet proudly waving their flags within my heart, shall I not more be able to love the kingdom of my true citizenship? And how my heart yearns within me for a perfect country, without imperfections which must be explained to non-citizens!
Although a citizen, I have felt like an outsider my entire life! Yet one day, people will be able to identify me by my characteristics, knowing exactly where my citizenship lies. And then I will finally have come home!
Oh, to reach with mortal fingers and grasp immortality!
Oh, to dream within a finite mind of the riches of infinity…
and today's power verse is...
So the other day I was reading through the book of Ruth, and it struck me that I had found a verse which KOBC had not yet used for their daily power verse.
"May the LORD grant that each of you will find rest in the home of another husband."
Ruth 1:9
With this verse, they will show that they are compassionate towards their female listeners who are either widowed, divorced, or adulterers--that often overlooked corner of society.
(Oh, for the resurrection of the Doggy Door . . .)
"May the LORD grant that each of you will find rest in the home of another husband."
Ruth 1:9
With this verse, they will show that they are compassionate towards their female listeners who are either widowed, divorced, or adulterers--that often overlooked corner of society.
(Oh, for the resurrection of the Doggy Door . . .)
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
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