Through the Wilderness

I have not arrived.

The voices that teased me in college for choosing a major I liked (English) seem to have been proven right.  Though I'm not asking "do you want fries with that" as many suggested I might be, I am answering a phone rather than counseling someone who is hurting, writing orientation letters instead of publishing books and articles, and scanning paperwork rather than signing autographs.  

I am well behind most of my friends who are beginning on their second kids with their husbands and find myself asking every so often if there is something wrong with me.  One of my favorite jokes is that at this point it will take a miracle tantamount to the virgin birth to get me married as the task seems all but insurmountable due to my sinful idealism and general fear of that sort of relationship.

Most of my friends have moved away or are getting ready to move away to ridiculous places like Midland.

I have been turned down for my dream job too many times to count.

I have sins that I just can't seem to master.

This is certainly not my best life now.

I am in the wilderness, or at least that's what it feels like, and sometimes this makes me question my salvation.  Surely if I was a child of God things would be going better.  Surely I would be much holier by now and have taken my place among the ranks of my supermom friends.  Surely the drab day to day trudge isn't the sort of trouble Jesus promised in John 16:33…it can't be, it's not dramatic enough!  Surely the trouble He was talking about was limited to outright persecution, torture, death for the sake of the kingdom.  Surely.

I wonder if the Israelites ever had thoughts such as this when God was leading them through the wilderness; if they asked themselves, each other, Moses why the Lord had rescued them just to hike around "through a land of deserts and of pits, through a land of drought and of deep darkness, through a land that no one crossed and where no man dwelt" (Jeremiah 2:6).  Their trek could not have been exciting in the day to day, though it certainly must have been uncomfortable.  Sand in the morning, sand in the afternoon, sand in the evening…no apparent source of water, no civilization, blistering sun…Yet they had the promise to look forward to, the guarantee of the God of their forefather Abraham to guide them, and He had proved Himself faithful time and again.

Reading Jeremiah 2 this evening made me check my prosperity gospel thinking.  Like Israel we - the Church - have been rescued from slavery; like Israel we look forward to the promised land, the hope of things to come; and like Israel we are still being lead through the wilderness by our good and faithful Shepherd.  To assume things would be comfortable, easy, even exciting is to misunderstand how God works.  Sometimes it's the constant sand that buffs away that which sin has left behind.  I think following in faith can sometimes be the hardest when things are just plain bland and disappointing, so I'm thankful for the reminders in scripture that God walked with His people through a dry and dusty place.  

Do you ever find yourself in the midst of the wilderness?  Let us encourage each other on this journey, for God gave us the body for a reason.    

Eating Crow

"I'm so sorry for what I said, I didn'

t realize it was you on the phone."

My hands shake I'm so angry.  What kind of apology is that?  I remember our conversation from earlier:

"May I ask who's calling and what this call is in regard to."

"This is_and I want talk to _ as if it's any of your G*d d*mn business."

I was too baffled to respond, utterly shocked by the extremity of her response, the uncalled for anger.

"I'm sorry?"

She repeats herself, only this time without the profanities.  I transfer her so I don't say anything I will regret later, but my mind is racing along with my heart.  How dare she speak that way to me, to anybody?!  Of course it's my business, this is a business and I'm the receptionist.  Even if I wasn't I would want to know who the caller was.  I'm shaking so badly I have to get up and walk around.  Furious energy to burn off.

Back in the present I'm praying like crazy, angry with myself that my pride has pushed me into reacting this way.

"Thank you for your apology, but I have to ask those kinds of questions because we get weird sales calls all the time…we all have to ask those questions because otherwise people won't take the call."

"I'm so sorry…"

Sure you are…

Her apology feels hallow, ridiculous.  She's only apologizing because she knows who I am, she only feels guilty because we have some semblance of a relationship, not because what she did was ridiculous, irrational, wrong.  I want justice on her, I want to return the venom she spewed at me, I want her never to do that to anyone again!

My self-righteous anger doesn't last long; God doesn't allow it to as He reminds me of rush hour traffic, of shaking my *ahem* fist at other drivers, of the fact that any one of them could be someone I know, and that in those moments of frustration I do exactly what the woman on the other line has done; murdered someone with words, with gestures, with my thoughts.

I'm still angry, and I don't think entirely unjustified, but I'm also humbled.  I'm reminded that I am in much need of mercy as anyone else, as lesson I must clearly learn often.  I've no way to combat the emotions that fuel my actions, I will just have to pray constantly, fall at the feet of my Savior, and remember my own sin when I am wronged.  That is the only way I can show any grace or mercy to anyone, that is the only way I can remain calm and cling to peace in the storm.  The war between myself and the Lord is over, and He has come to make straight that which we have made crooked.

Emmanuel God with us.

Isaiah 9:6

For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us;
And the government will [i]rest on His shoulders;
And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.

Friday Night Foodie: Thanksgiving Style

This was my first Thanksgiving to go gluten free and at first I was a little disappointed.  Surely this meant no pie, no dressing, two of my favorite things!  But as I have discovered lately, there are so many ways around gluten that it is glorious!  Awareness is a beautiful thing.  So this year, I got a little creative.

First up, plantain dressing:

Plantain Bread - 1 plantain, two eggs, 1 tbs of oil.  Blend until smooth.  350 for 15-18 minutes.  Delicious.

Cut into cubes and toast.

Saute onions and celery. 

Mix together with chicken broth and season with poultry seasoning, thyme, and rosemary in a crockpot and simmer on low for an hour.  Then, pop back in the oven on 350 for half an hour and eat warm.  Survey says?  Delicious!  I should not have halved the recipe I don't think, but it was still delicious and I definitely plan on making the bread just to eat on a daily basis.  So stinkin' easy and yummy!

Next up, brown rice apple pie:

2 1/2 cups brown rice flour/1 stick of butter (chilled in the freezer for half an hour)/tsp salt/tsp sugar/6-8 tbs of ice cold water.  

8 cups of chopped apples/1tbs cinnamon/1tbs nutmeg/pinch of salt/more brown rice flour...

Attempt lattice…one day you will perfect this!  400 for 40 minutes with aluminum foil, then fifteen more uncovered.  Serve hot!

My sweet friend Sharon Peterson picked up some gluten free pie crusts for me a few weeks ago and I had fully intended on using those.  Tuesday morning I remembered everything…but the pie crusts :(  Still, this was good practice in pie making and as I fully intend on becoming an expert pie maker (complete with fifties style dress and pearls) this was good practice.

Survey says: delicious!  I was scared the dough would end up very dry and crumbly but it was so stink in' good!  This is a recipe I will stick with.

And now, for pictures of fellowship!  How thankful I am to be part of the body of Christ.

Alison making cranberry deliciousness!  Looking amazing even after being up all night with a coughing baby.

Momma pealing po-ta-toes.

Me, making the second pie for everybody else.  This one had lard and regular flour.

Leaves!
 

Thomas and Jimmy.  My movie buddy is back!  For a while :(

Happy Thanksgiving!

Friday Night Foodie: Plantain Chips

Aside from my new obsession with spaghetti squash, I've also renewed my love for plantain chips.  In Peru, you could buy bags of thinly sliced plantain chips for one sol (about a third of a dollar), and fried plantains are a common ingredient in all jungle food.  My first experience with jungle food was in the market in the jungle my second week in the country.  We went nearly every morning for breakfast and coffee (amazing coffee!)  At first, the only thing I would try were the bananas with either fresh cheese or mani (natural peanut butter), they seemed the safest and least likely to make me sick (I'd heard horror stories about parasites and was pretty nervous upon arrival), and so when the others told me to try a Peruvian dish called tacacho I swore I never would.  Tacacho is fried plantains that have been ground with pig fat and bacon and served with lime soaked purple onions, ahi (a super spicy and delicious spice), and mayonnaise (sounds odd, but Peru knows how to do mayo like nobody else).

It took some convincing, but eventually I caved.  The dish is delicious, if not a little odd, and I was so glad my friends made me do it.  In the future, I plan to try this recipe from the Peruvian cook book I brought back, but this week I kept it simple with plantain chips.

These are fairly easy to cook and the hardest part is actually getting them out of their skins.  My suggestion is to get them somewhat yellow, too green and they'll basically require you to skin them with a knife.  Either way, plantains are much harder than regular bananas and you will need a knife to get them open.  Cut off the ends and then use the tip of the knife to make slits on each side of the fruit…vegetable…eh, it's up for debate.  Once this is done, you should be able to peal it with some amount of ease.  Cut into fairly thin slices depending on how crispy you want them.  The thicker they are, the softer they tend to be.  However, you don't want them too thin, otherwise they will burn.  

Heat your oil in your pan on medium high or so (I used olive oil) and carefully place the chips in until they are mostly submerged.  I don't have a specific time frame for how long, just keep an eye on them and flip with a fork.  I found using a spatula did not work so well.  Drain on paper towels and season with salt.  Then, enjoy!  Just be careful, it's easy to get burned and easier still to become somewhat obsessed.  Do you have any international dishes that you could make yourself sick on?

Made for Another World

I’m tired.  For an insomniac that is not entirely unusual.  Since the day I was born sleep has been an often illusive friend, coming and going with no real sense of regularity, and always desiring to tempt at unconventional times.  Sleep beckons at 2 PM rather than 2AM, my eyes growing heavy in the afternoon and wide open as darkness falls.  Even when I find available time for a nap and sleep comes at the appropriate hour, I always feel as if I need more.

I’m hungry.  Being a foodie I’m always looking for new recipes, new challenges and experiments.  If you know me at all, you are fully aware of my current Pintrest obsession.  (It’s a problem…maybe)  Yet food never really satisfies.  Though I often stumble upon amazing concoctions (even a blind squirrel finds an acorn now and then as my dad says) it’s never quite as good as it could be (I’m like a Hobbit, Second Breakfast is a daily occurrence).

I’m busy.  As an extrovert, I crave company and love being social.  A day without people would not be a good day in my book.  Last year I got two strains of the flu and was more or less quarantined at home in Fulshear at my parent’s house.  They had good friends over to visit and I couldn’t go down to see them Two of them came up and risked  hugs anyway, something I very much appreciated, but I couldn’t fellowship with them, couldn’t join the conversation, could only hear their enjoyment of one another’s company from afar.  It was miserable.  Yet, I find even my greatest friendships can often fall short.  Among others I still sometimes feel lonely, on the outside, and as usual, not quite satisfied.

I love my local church, playing in the band, enjoying my small group, but it has it’s flaws (if I were to find a perfect church my very presence would ruin it by my sin).

I love my city, but the driver’s are nuts.

I’m thankful for my job but don’t always enjoy it.

I love my family but sometimes they drive me crazy.

This, my friends, is a blessing.  The things of this world always leave me wanting more, wanting better.  I’m often disappointed, often let down, by my own failures, the failures of others, and the failure of this world in general to fill up the empty space in my chest.  Why is this a blessing?  Why do I think the slight suffocation of disillusionment is the most glorious feeling I can experience?  Because like the pain of an injury, this reveals to me a problem, a need, a reality that is vital for me to know.

There is a disease called congenital analgesia.  People suffering from this cannot feel physical pain at all.  While some of us may often wish this amidst an injury, this disease is incredibly dangerous.  Why?  Because pain reveals to us that something is wrong, that we may need to seek help.  

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."

The deprivation and pain of this life, the hole in the center of our very being serves as a warning to us, a signal that this world will never satisfy.  As Pascal put it, “There is a god-shaped vacuum in the heart of every man, and only God can fill it.”  

Yet.

And yet we as believers, filled with the Holy Spirit of God, continue to feel deprivation, lack, tragedy.  We wonder why.  I wonder why.  I wrestle with guilt.  I should be joyful, feel fulfilled, and happy all the time!  I question God, question my own salvation, question what I know to be true.  

But then I’m reminded; I am not yet in glory.  It’s the tension of the already but not yet.  I have been made alive, yet I continue to struggle with the after effects of sin, I have been adopted, yet sometimes I act like an orphan.  

“And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body.”  Romans 8:23

Still, the continued dissatisfaction, I believe, is also a blessing.  For amidst joy we do not cling to prayer as much, we do not remember our own frailty, we worship the world and our friends and family.  We continue to long because, even though we have been brought from death to life, we are not yet fully redeemed.  

So how do we live in the longing?  I think Packer said it best: "Think against your feelings; argue yourself out of the gloom they have spread; unmask the unbelief they have nourished; take yourself in hand, talk to yourself, make yourself look up from your problems to the God of the gospel; let evangelical thinking correct emotional thinking."  Knowing God

Dear friends, speak truth to your feelings, and pray with me that when we long, we will realize it is a longing to be with our Heavenly Father.

Friday Night Foodie - Saturday

I've been on a huge spaghetti squash kick lately.  Like the Miracle Noodles, they tend to take on the flavor of whatever it is your cooking, so you can get really creative with sauces.  Add to that the slightly crunchy texture and it's a nice little substitute for pasta.  This week, I tried Baked Margherita Spaghetti Sauce.

Slice squash in half and drizzle with olive oil, salt and pepper, and garlic powder.  Bake at 400 for thirty minutes.  

Use a fork to scrape the insides, leaving it in the skin.  Cover with 1/4 cup of mozzarella (I so used more than this because I have a cheese problem), sliced tomatoes (I used grape tomatoes), and fresh basil.

Set oven on broil and heat for 3-4 minutes.

Enjoy!  I meant to save one of the halts, but ended up eating the whole thing.  

 I absolutely loved this recipe and will likely do it again.  It might be good as a side with chicken, but it was more than filling enough and while my taste buds appreciated multiple servings my stomach did not!  Pintrest success!

Prep Time: 10 minutes / Cook Time: 45 minutes / Servings: 2

Ingredients:

• 1 large spaghetti squash
• 2 tbsp. olive oil
• 1 large Roma tomato, finely chopped
• 2 tbsp. finely chopped fresh basil
• 1/4 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
• 1 tsp. each salt & pepper
• 1 tsp. garlic powder

Steps:

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
2. Using a large knife or a cleaver, slice the spaghetti squash in half lengthwise down the middle.  Use a spoon to remove the seeds and center strings.
3. Drizzle the two halves with olive oil and then sprinkle with salt, pepper and garlic powder.
4. Place the squash, open side down on a cookie sheet and bake for 30 minutes.  Remove from the oven, check to see if the squash is soft and easily comes up with a fork into a spaghetti like texture.  If it's too hard to remove, cook for another 10 minutes.   Remove from the oven, scrape and fluff the stringy squash with a fork.  Leave the squash in the skin.
5. Turn the oven up to broil. Add the tomatoes and fresh basil into the squash, stir and top with the mozzarella cheese.  Place in the broiler for 3-4 minutes, until the cheese is melted and slightly browned. Allow to cool for 5 minutes before serving the squash.

Where We Began

Genesis 1:27

New American Standard Bible (NASB)

27 God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.

People suck, but I can't forget where we began.  

Like a mirror now ruined by dust and time, we once reflected our Creator.  He could see His face in us, clear and plain as day, unwrapped, undistorted, unmatched to anything we could possibly imagine.  What did that look like?  Humanity unmarred by the void sin creates, humanity in its birth, its perfection, humanity in unhindered relationship with the God of the Universe, holy and happy?  It's an image even my wild imagination can't wrap itself around, an image I'm not sure I could look upon in my current state of unholiness and sin.  

To my very core I am dust, ashes, a worm and not a man (Psalm 22:6), but that is not how God created us.  In His graciousness, and without any need on His part, He formed humanity in wholeness, holiness.  He brought us into being because He is, by nature, creator, He brought us into being because He is, by nature, relational, He brought us into being knowing exactly what it would cost Him; the greatest suffering imaginable.

Sometimes I struggle with the idea of sin.  I see death and destruction in the news, hear cruel words out of the mouths of my coworkers, know the evil thoughts of my own heart and I wonder, 'How could a loving and sovereign God allow it to happen?'  It's a question everyone asks, a challenge from those who deny any sort of intelligent design much less a creator, and in my weak faith, this question often shakes me.  Yet I am reminded, so graciously by this holy Creator, of the fact that no matter how sin came into existence at all, He chose to create us knowing just what it would cost Him.

Even those condemned to hell will never know what Christ suffered on the cross, for He knew perfect fellowship with the Father, He knew no sin, and yet took the justice we rebels deserved (2 Corinthians 5:21).  God did not simply wave away our sin like a fog to dissipate in the air, He poured out justice upon it, upon His Son, and gave us a righteousness that is not our own…

He is pulling us back to where we began.  

The dust and grime are begin scrubbed away and it hurts sometimes but one day we will again perfectly reflect our Creator, serving our true purpose yet again…

So I'm thankful to be made aware of my sin, of the grime, of the dirt, because it also reminds me that it no longer defines me, and that one day I will be what God has declared of me: His righteousness. 

Friday Night Foodie…or, You know, Saturday

Recently, my doctor took me off of gluten.  I've always had stomach issues, but I never thought it might be associated with an intolerance.  Coffee, wine, tomatoes, sure, but flour?  Thankfully, most restaurants and grocery stores carry gluten free options, and so long as you stick mainly to fresh produce you're fairly safe.  Add to that my love for trying new foods (spaghetti squash) and it really hasn't been so bad.  

And then there is my sweet friend Sharon.  This lovely lady is not only the queen of Craig's List, but sells her cookies to help pay for her kids ABA therapy, and found me Miracle Noodles on Amazon.  

Made from Shirataki Konjac, an Asian plant root, Miracle Noodle is carb free, gluten free, and soy free and, even better, zero calories.  You can buy a box of six on Amazon for around $13.  It comes in packets filled with water and sort of looks, well, like little white worms.  After you drain and rinse them in a colander, you boil them for 3-4 minutes like you would any other pasta. 

 Boil in salted water for 2-4 minutes.

Drain again.

Sautee on medium heat to remove excess water.  I added chicken sausage as well for some protein. 

Add your sauce: I used vodka sauce and added  fresh basil.

Enjoy!

I also had a goat cheese, tomato, and basil salad.  Verdict?  Kind of an odd texture, but still pretty good!  Might take some getting used to, but I'll definitely keep using it.  

People Suck

Warning: there is some language in this post.  I'm using it to prove a point, but if it offends you I encourage you not to read on.

People suck.

Sound harsh?  I know with absolute certainty that my parents are cringing if they read the previous line, but as it is a harsh word I find it appropriate.

People suck.

I suck.

Paul used similarly harsh diction in Philippians 3:8 when he described his own works: rubbish, filth, shit.

I on the one hand I apologize for the profanity, on the other I want to honor the extremity of the word.  People are ugly, fitly, disgusting.  They speak beautiful word with their lips yet hate you; they speak harsh words and murder you; they manipulate, fail to understand, put themselves first.  They are no different than I am.  I murder with a glance, I give not grace with my words, I destroy that which God created with a syllable because I believe myself to be the highest authority.

I am shit.

Again I apologize.

Yet I don't because it's what I am.

The older I get the more I realize just how deeply imbedded sin is within me.  To my very core I (and everyone around me) am utterly selfish.  I treat others well because it will make them like me, I do good for the praise, I strive for godliness because it just might attract a man worthy of my time, because I am the guiding line for what is good and holy and right and obviously anyone would be lucky to have me on their side; I am a worm and not a man (Psalm 22:6)!  Yet I am not despised because, like those on Capitol Hill, I pour layer upon layer of lies to invent myself and make you see me a certain way.

I am often a white washed cup (Matthew 23:27), clean on the outside but leaning toward the ways of death on the outside.

This realization is the only way I can love others.  Why?  Because people (me included) suck.  We treat one another as peasants, believing ourselves always to be justified in our actions, always to be the heroes, the protagonists of the story, when, in reality, we are the supporting actors, the extras, the one our glorious LORD has allowed to be part of the story.

If I focus on others I will absolutely despair because they are like me; riddled with sin.  And yet, if I focus on the Creator of this around me, of the One Who redeemed me from the pit, that is when I can love others fully.

And why is that?

Because "we love, because He first loved us." (1 John 4:19)

If this is true then even our most vile offender can be loved.

If this is true we are merely offenders choosing to love other offenders.

If this is true, we can let go of vengeance and trust the God of justice.

If this is true, we can love each other even when we suck.

LORD, soften my hardened heart to fellow sinners.  May the imputed righteousness of Christ bring forth an abundance of love and mercy towards others, no matter how they wrong me.

Friday Night Foodie

I'm starting a new section of my blog called "Friday Night Foodie" in which I attempt recipes mostly gotten off Pintrest and share them with you.  I'll link up to the site with instructions and let you know how it turned out for me.  This week I tried jerk chicken... ...it did not turn out as well as I'd hoped...

Garlic, onion, ginger, thyme, olive oil, allspice, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt honey, red wine vinegar, and lime juice...

Blend!

Marinate skin on chicken for 24 hours - it smelled glorious!

375 for 45 minutes...I don't think I cooked it long enough...

Eat...

I'm not totally sure what I did wrong, but it wasn't very good.  The sauce was grainy and did not stick to the skin.  Probably a fail on my part.  It was the first time I'd cooked with skin on chicken...anybody got any tips?

Friday Night Foodie

On the menu for tonight: beef, bacon, and plantain casserole.

First, fry bacon...bacon is always good...when in doubt, add bacon. 

Sautee ground turkey in bacon grease with garlic and plantains...

Eat my friends.

Why Youth Ministry

I'm a church rat.

For those of you who do not speak "Christianese" this means I was brought up in the church.  From the time I was a child my parents taught me about the Lord, about sin, and about Jesus.  I never knew a day where I did not know that my so-called "good works" were laced with bad motives and pride and that my only way for a relationship with a holy God and with His body was the sacrifice of His Son.  Peace preached, spiritual family...yet for a long time I felt very alone.

Admittedly, I'm an odd ball.  If you're friends with me in real life, on Facebook or Pintrest, or if you read this blog you know that all too well.  Another memory from childhood is my overactive imagination; the stories ebbed and flowed in my mind, taking me into my own little world, but often coming out for a peak, my characters tripping into real life...and soon the teasing started.  Inevitably I began to prefer my imaginary world to reality.  I didn't want to face the rejection, rejection I didn't understand, rejection from my peer group in and outside of the church.

Then I entered Junior High, arguably the most awkward and painful time in our existence (ok, slightly overdramatic, but then I am talking about the beginning of puberty, so it seemed appropriate).  The arms of my youth group pulled me in, accepting me, challenging me, teaching me.  I was confronted with sin, included in group activities, considered a friend, and the imaginary world began to look a little less dreamy.  I was still me, oddness and all, but for the first time my peer group didn't seem so scary.  Moreover, through the discipleship of the staff I wrestled with difficult questions about my faith, realizing quickly that I believed what my parents had taught me all those years, owning my faith.

For this reason I believe youth ministry is a vital one.  Not that youth, or any Ecclesiastes 3:1).  
age group, should be separate from the rest of the body, but that they, like every age group, have distinctive needs.  This, of course, can be done wrong; as a culture there is nowhere near enough intergenerationality (spell check is telling me that's not a word, I choose to ignore it), but there is a time and a place for everything (

So what is your opinion on youth ministry?  Objections?  Rebuttals?  

Friday Night Foodie

Creamy Zucchini Mushroom Soup...

Veggies...nom...

Chicken Stock

Cream...

Final product!  

Collateral Damage...

Final verdict?  Delicious!

Engaging Culture

"So, they're scared that a polar bear is going to threaten their religion?"

The chorus of voices confirmed this assertion and I squirmed.  The conversation teetered on absurdity, begun with a simple discussion of a recent movie that had come out based on a book called The Golden Compass.  I don't remember exactly how we got there, but I'm quite sure Harry Potter was somehow in the mix and that the so called discussion seemed somehow hollow.  My greatest drive at that point was to prove that I wasn't an unthinking religious zombie that would prefer to burn books for their sins than to engage people within their culture.

Maybe it was because it was an early class, maybe I was a coward, but I failed to do either that day.  Worse than disengaging I attempted to gain approval by bashing other members of the body of Christ for their "overreaction" towards a children's book.  Sadly, I didn't pick up on the logical fallacies being used by our professor, sadly I did not prove to be always ready to give an answer for what I believe, sadly I caved to the people worship I've struggled with all my life, allowing emotionalism to effect my ability to speak with intelligence.

But recently, another book has come out that reminds me of this discussion, that has sparked similar debate and I don't want to be silent.  It's dangerous waters, coming out against art that is easily seen as cancerous, offensive to the holy God of the universe and detrimental to the culture, but after my failure in college silence proves to be nothing more than cowardice.

Let me clarify, to a point I believe we all ought to engage in culture, to read literature and watch movies and view art even if it makes us uncomfortable or challenges our belief system or doesn't seem "Christian" (emphasis on the quotes), but there are certain things I believe we should boycott with strong conviction...not with a self-righteous "I would never read something so depraved and how dare you" sort of attitude, but with a deep sense of humility and a strong conviction of our own propensity towards temptation.

I read Harry Potter (some of you may gasp...not sure there are too many out there anymore).





I read Twilight (my stomach curdles and the English major in me is shaking her head while face-palming).











I even read Hunger Games (the first time I've ever said the movie version is better than the books...now the English major is really flipping out).









But I will absolutely not read Fifty Shades of Grey.

This isn't because of the bad writing (like Twilight), it isn't because I have no interest in it (like Hunger Games initially), and it sin't because it has the appearance of evil (like Harry Potter...please take this with a grain of salt, dear readers), but it's because I know myself.  Given simple public TV fodder I am easily tempted by sin and what a fool I would be to add kindling to the fire.  I haven't read it, so I can't speak from experience as to what the content is, but I've heard enough to know that I should never touch it with a ten foot pole, and I would encourage the rest of the body of Christ to do the same.

When perversion is normalized, romanticized, everyone is put in danger.

I'm not thrusting a sign into the air demanding this novel (trilogy?) to be burned, I'm not condemning others for reading it as if I'm some angel of light untouched by the aforementioned perversion, I'm simply coming from my own weakness and sin, knowing that God has called me to be holy as He is holy (Lev. 11:44) and that given the opportunity I will absolutely edge towards sin rather than flee from it.

On the flip side, we do need to engage culture when we are able.  Though we are to be set apart we are also to be in the world (1 Corinthians 9:19-23), to speak intelligently and with love to those who challenge us, but again we should never do that which will tempt us to sin.

So I have a two-fold urge to my fellow believers; don't set yourself up to be tempted, but learn how to engage the culture with wisdom and love and grace.  Thank God for His mercy in using weak and broken objects such as us!

Denominations: Mean Girls Style

"Get in the car loser, we're going to worship."

Look around the country (maybe the world, but we'll stick with the U.S. as I know it better).  First you have your…

Jocks and cheerleaders, otherwise known as the Baptists.  

The Thespians, also called Pentecostals.

The Popular Crowd or, Non-Denominationals.

and finally… the geeks/nerds, called Presbyterians.

But make no mistake, all of these belong to the Debate Club, ready with well prepared (or not so well prepared) arguments to prove the other wrong.

Each is marked by a specific set of indicators; the Baptists by their squeaky clean reputations, the Penecostals by their theatrics, the Non-Denoms by their coffee shop worship and cool, alternative Church names (i.e. "Current Church"), and Presbyterians by their passion for the truth (read: minute details regarding scripture) and each can easily be lumped into one generalized category.  More often than not, the different cliques tend to edge away from one another depending on their position on the church social radar, and each generalizes about the other.  

And yet…

Like the stereotypes we see portrayed amongst high school students, these differing denominations (or non-denominations) have far more in common than they might care to admit.  In fact, these often competing entities are actually apart of the same body, the body for which God rent Himself.  Moreover, what they (and by they I mean "we", myself included) fail to realize is that there is more in common amongst those who are loved by the LORD than there is between us and the rest of the world.

I just have a lot of feelings…  

I don't want to downplay our differences, or ignore the fact that there are very serious issues we need to graciously discuss, but I think we need to remember the undeniable fact that we are not our own, that we were bought at a high price (1 Corinthians 6:20), and that God has called us to be part of each other (1 Corinthians 15).  It's ok to laugh at ourselves and maybe even a little at each other, but ultimately we are part of Christ's body, and as such we are called to love one another.  So I'm praying for the Church, that maybe during conflict we remember that Christ didn't just die for us individually, but for the whole body, and that maybe we'd show each other a little more grace…

…but none for Gretchen Wieners.  Goodbye! 

Training for Super Motherhood...

My job is preparing me for marriage and family.  

What?  Don't believe me?  

Meet my child the copy machine.  When it has a problem, here I come to save the day!  When it needs to be fed it beeps (cries) until I add paper.  It needs regular naps during the day.  And let me tell you, it does not wake up happy.

My second child is the phone.  It's a bit more like a toddler; wining until it gets my attention, constantly at my side like a little one clinging to my pant leg, making it very difficult to go to the bathroom.  Sometimes when I give it what it wants I'm rewarded with a pleasant response, a kind voice, an easily answered request, but others, well, I get to deal with an all out fit that makes me want to go cry in a corner.

Then there are the salesmen.  In a way they are like a spouse: big ideas, grand plans, and in desperate need of the tiny details to be taken care of.  The little things are my job; travel plans, stamping envelopes, printing, making copies, getting coffee, water, making reservations…they couldn't do their job if I wasn't doing mine, or at least it would be very hard.  

A smile is part of the job, cleaning up after others is what I do, and often, amidst the stress, I tell myself it's just practice for marriage and kids.  But sometimes that makes me forget to focus on the job at hand, to be thankful for what I have right now and not what I'm hoping for in the future.  Don't get me wrong, hope is wonderful, hope gets me through the day, the problem comes when I focus only on the future and not on doing my best and finding joy in the present.  

It can be hard to find sometimes, honestly, the search can feel a bit like an impossible Where's Waldo mission, but there is joy even in the stress and frustration.  Because in reality, my current circumstances aren't some purgatory-hunger games-torture-training session meant to prepare me to be a glorious super mom/wife, it's part of my sanctification process…which, sometimes can be sort of like a purgatory-hunger games-torture training session.  

More than that, there is something to look forward to, something way better and way more believable than me becoming Supermom (boots included, but no capes…if you've seen the Incredibles, you'll understand), because my sanctification process is preparing me for eternity.  

"Thus you are to be holy to Me, for I the Lord am holy; and I have set you apart from the peoples to be Mine." Leviticus 20:26

The holy is in the hardship, and the reward at the end is relationship, unhindered, with the bridegroom Who poured himself  out for His bride.  

In The Image of God...

"Hello, this is Courtney with Empirica, and I was just calling to follow up on your pre-employment screens.  The clinic says you didn't show up."

"Well, see what happened was…"

Idiot.

It doesn't matter what the explanation follows, I've already made up my mind; this dude has wasted my precious time and added just one more headache to my busy, unpredictable schedule.  A simple phone call could have saved time, money, some of my valuable brain cells, and eased the ulcer I'm fairly certain is forming somewhere within my gastrointestinal section (Yeah, I passed biology by the grace of God and my professors).  I'm exhausted, stressed, overwhelmed, and now this individual who I don't have to physically face has become, in my eyes, the biggest moron ever to walk the earth.

Amidst this conversation, someone walks in the door (obviously a solicitor), the other line rings, two e-mails pop up, and my mortal enemy, tears, begin to threaten to reveal stress and irritation.  In an attempt to remain professional, I try to work up a smile for the visitor, the tremble out of my voice as I ask the caller to hold, and take a deep breath.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…I hate this, I hate this, I hate this…

At this point, everyone is dumb, including myself.  I suck at this job, I suck at life, I don't know why I'm here, I don't know God wants me in this dumb situation when He's made me good at other things and given me a passion for other work, why didn't He make me better at handling stress, and why, oh, why, did He allow some people to be so stupid!

Then His words come to me, not words I expect, but words that help none-the-less; "God created man in His own image…he knit them together in their mother's wombs…they are fearfully and wonderfully made…" (Genesis 1:27, Psalm 139:14).  

I'm humbled and calmed somewhat.  The guy on the phone, smart or not, the solicitor, intrusive or not, and I, useless or not, were made in the image of God, knit by His hands in the wombs of our mothers, valued by the Creator.  Each of us has a story and a soul that God has crafted in loving sovereignty, each of us has stressful days, and moments in which we kick ourselves for dumb moments.  We all, desperately need grace.  

This reminder doesn't completely pull back the tears, it doesn't make me love the situation in the short or long term, but it does help me relax, help me be a bit more gentle, reorganize my thoughts.  I'm so thankful God doesn't leave me in my own frustrations without reminding me that He's there, reminding me of what is true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, worthy of praise…(Phil 4:8).  Truth can change one's attitude, truth applied by the Spirit, Who's help I am so grateful for.  I'm quite sure I'll need more reminders along the way, and a lot of grace, but I'm thankful for the reminder I got today.

***

This experience reminded me of the song below by John Foreman.  It didn't relate as well as I would have liked, but it is about viewing others properly, maybe more graciously, so I still decided to share it.

Enjoy!

                     

The World Has Been Overcome

I'm never sure what to say on this day.  I remember along with everyone else, recall sitting in my sophomore speech class when the news came of the first plane hitting, then onto dance where we listened over the radio as a second followed it.  Friends around me called parents and teachers didn't stop them.  A girl I knew was in tears because her father was in the air and she hadn't heard from him.  Our youth group gathered to pray.  I sat glued to the TV almost every day after school watching as fire fighters and others tried to stop the ever spreading disaster, as people lost their lives, as my friends and acquaintances either found relief in making contact with someone in potential danger or lost a piece of themselves a midst the fire...

...and I waited to cry.

In a way I felt disconnected and the lack of tears made me feel guilty.  Yes I was horrified, yes I was sad, yes I prayed…but that pain, what I saw, it never really got inside of me.  After a few days the emotion finally set in, but somehow it still felt off.  I hadn't lost anybody; I didn't have a right to cry, to mourn.  Still I did, wondering if this was true sadness or something the musical montages and media coverage and speeches and prayers had conjured up.  Emotions are easy things to rile and ought often to be distrusted.

Even now I feel somewhat guilty in even talking about the event, like it wasn't something that actually happened to me, as if I’m perpetrating a fraud by trying to connect with it.  So I didn't know what to say today, but I didn't feel right leaving it alone and ignored.  Those that died should be remembered and mourned, those who lost should be comforted, bathed in prayer.  In many ways for me it is learning to mourn with those who mourn (Romans 12:15), learning to listen and hear and care more about loving those who are weeping  than about stirring up emotions in myself.  It’s hard to make sense of this day no matter what you lost twelve years ago and my prayers are with the mourners, with our leaders, with our nation, and I rest on the promise Christ left with us in John 16:33, “In this world you will have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.”