Who I Want to Be

"To think that this is my twentieth birthday, and that I've left my teens behind me forever," said Anne, who was curled up on the hearth-rug with Rusty in her lap, to Aunt Jamesina who was reading in her pet chair. They were alone in the living room. Stella and Priscilla had gone to a committee meeting and Phil was upstairs adorning herself for a party. 



"I suppose you feel kind of, sorry" said Aunt Jamesina. "The teens are such a nice part of life. I'm glad I've never gone out of them myself." 



Anne laughed. 

"You never will, Aunty. You'll be eighteen when you should be a hundred. Yes, I'm sorry, and a little dissatisfied as well. Miss Stacy told me long ago that by the time I was twenty my character would be formed, for good or evil. I don't feel that it's what it should be. It's full of flaws." 



"So's everybody's," said Aunt Jamesina cheerfully. "Mine's cracked in a hundred places. Your Miss Stacy likely meant that when you are twenty your character would have got its permanent bent in one direction or 'tother, and would go on developing in that line. Don't worry over it, Anne. Do your duty by God and your neighbor and yourself, and have a good time. That's my philosophy and it's always worked pretty well.”

-Anne of the Island by Lucy Maude Montgomery

I’ve been thinking about this lately, particularly since I myself turned twenty. Am I who I want to be? Who I feel I should be?

Sometimes there are moments when it hits me that in some small way I’m living a life I’ve dreamed about.

Maybe it’s when I’m practicing phonetics or signing up for classes with names like “Grammatical Analysis”, because when I was younger I used to read books by people like Michael Crichton and Ted Dekker and Madeleine L’Engle and see characters called very specific things like “paleobotanists” and “biochemists” and “marine biologists”, not because of their jobs but because of what they know, who they are. I’d dream of being that too, being an expert at something, being the sort of person that people would call in when they had a certain sort of problem. I didn’t think it would ever be possible, because I’m no scientist and while I was good at math it wasn’t something I wanted to make a career out of. So being sort of on my way to being a “linguist” gives me some deep inner satisfaction.

Or perhaps it’s when I’m in yoga pants with my hair pulled up, doing laundry at midnight and eating yogurt out of a coffee mug. Just because being that girl always seemed fun. It feels like college.

Maybe it’s when I’m scrunching the curly hair I wished I had for years before I started perming it, or when I’m learning to teach English and remembering all the people who ever came up to me after a VBS lesson or a study hall or a mission trip report-back and told me that I should be a teacher someday, or when I’m walking into chapel and remembering how much I wanted to come to Moody and how anxiously I awaited that acceptance letter.

But then I think about my prayer life, my devotional life, my inner thought life. And then I’m not always so sure that I’m who I want to be. I remember my junior year of high school, when I was so consistent in the Word and so ardently in love with my God. Then I was so convinced that I would never, ever give up reading my several chapters per day, because I was so utterly convinced that it was truly what sustained me. I understood how desperately I needed it, and I sincerely loved it. Where did that go? There was a time when I was starting to grasp what it really means to pray without ceasing, but somehow that understanding slipped through my fingers. I know there are mountains and valleys in everyone’s life, but—I understood. What happened?

So I thank Jesus for the process of sanctification, for His promise to be the same even when I fluctuate, for the assurance that my sin is cast far from me.

And I take heart in realizing that I do care about these things—that even if I am not that person, I still want to be.

Lament

How do you respond to the evils of this world?

When corruption is everywhere, do you plug your ears and cover your eyes, sing a happy song and hide in the bubble where it’s safe?

When you’re tired or feeling ill or inadequate or anxious or sad, do you put on a cheerful mask and fake it till you feel it, or at least until you’re numb and good at pretending?

When Dad has cancer, do you try to stay in crisis mode forever, where you can run on adrenaline and just do what you have to? And focus on things like dishes and logistics and facts? But what happens when crisis mode inevitably ends and you realize that this is life now?

When a man just three years older than you is abruptly and coldly shot and killed just down the street, do you lock yourself in your dorm room and throw yourself into tasks to avoid the creeping fear? And what do you tell your mother?

When the world around you seems to be falling apart, and every time you turn around another friend or classmate has some new emergency or tragedy in their life, and yours seems so fragile… what do you do?

It seems to me that we can’t afford not to feel. Numbness scares me just as much as pain does.

Jesus said that in this world we will have troubles. But He also said that He will be with us, forever and ever. And He said that he is preparing a place for us… a place that will have no tears, no pain, no sorrow.

So for now- until we arrive in that blessed place- we must carry on, live boldly, be light and salt and hands and feet.

“Is it not from the mouth of the Most High that both calamities and good things come? … But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. “ Lamentations 3:38, 21-23

Pondering

It’s hard to be introspective, sometimes.

Sometimes my mind seems to overflow with thoughts and words and feelings and concepts. They swirl in an endless fog, a thick one full of little intensely colored sparks that zap my consciousness one after another before zooming away into the mist. Sensory overload combined with numbness. An odd and disconcerting thing.

That’s when I get behind on my journaling.

That’s when new blog posts don’t appear for two months.

Because that sort of mental environment makes me give up on trying to take a snapshot of any one thing and really look at it. Life is too complex; I get caught up in living the big picture and feel exhausted by the mere thought of taking the time and energy to contemplate the details.

But maybe that’s when I most need to take a snapshot.

To take a good hard look at one little facet of life.

To examine its intricacies.

To fully feel what it has to offer- the delight of its joys, and maybe the sharpness of its pain. Because pain can be refining. Because experiencing joy in life brings glory to the God who created it.

To understand. To gain perspective. To see the beauty in the chaos.

To not understand. To practice trusting the Lord.

To learn.

To see.

To think. To think heavily.

Did you ever think about the fact that the word “ponder” carries with it the connotation of heaviness? I didn’t, until my choir conductor talked about it at the beginning of this year.

Ponderings are not light, airy, shallow, superficial. They are deep and real and profound. And I usually can’t feel entirely settled about anything that tugs at my mind until I’ve really thought through it- pondered it.

In choir, we talked about Psalm 101:2. It says, “I will ponder the ways of the blameless”.

The danger in the times I mentioned is this: if I don’t even want to think about my own ways, how much harder will it be to ponder the ways of God? To desire to ponder the ways of God?

Yeah. No tidy conclusion to this train of thought.

The Lord is good. Maybe I’ll just… really think about that for a minute.

Five-Minute Friday: Still

GO.

One of the simplest lessons that I have learned in the past year is the importance of rest.

I’m good at pushing myself, at working hard. I’m also good at resting. But I’m not very good at balancing the two.

My tendancy is to go, and go, and keep going until I’ve reached some stopping place, at which point I collapse and indulge in doing absolutely nothing for as long as possible. Then I start all over. Usually the cycle is a month or two long, with anywhere from a weekend (after a finishing a paper) to two weeks (Christmas break) in between.

In a way, this way of living brings me satisfaction. I feel accomplished. But it also makes me bone-tired, a tired that accumulates throughout the year, because binge-resting does not really help.

What I need is consistancy.

I went on my first Women’s Concert Choir tours this year at Moody. During these tours, my director persevered in ensuring that we all had a certain amount of time each day that was designated as “quiet time”, not only to conserve our voices but to reenergize and focus us.

Since then, I’ve discovered that a little “me time” set aside each day does wonders for my energy, motivation, and emotional stability. It must be separate from my God time (which is, of course, even more essential), and it is not nap time.

Instead, I might read a book, crochet a little, or watch an episode of Psych. I do something I enjoy, something that takes my mind off of whatever is stressing me, something that is not essential. I do it alone. I do it consistantly, regardless of how much work remains to be done that day, because the time is moderated—no more than an hour—and when I am not so frazzled the procrastination dwindles.

I still work hard. But I have learned to pause occasionally, and be still.

STOP.

Five-Minute Friday: Grateful

GO:

I’m grateful for American life.

There’s a good chance that I’ll spend a large percentage of my lifetime somewhere else. Where I’ll live instead depends on what exactly my ministry call turns out to be (I’m studying for Bible translation as well as ESL teaching). But no matter what, it’ll probably be a different culture.

So in case I end up in a jungle, I’m grateful today for the four seasons of northwest Indiana, for the varied food and the benign bugs, for the sturdy house and air conditioning and readily available medical care.

In case I end up in a non-English speaking country, I’m grateful today for the time I have in a place where everyone communicates in my heart language.

In case I end up in a place with very few Christians, I’m grateful today for the enormous network of believers who love and support me from the same campus or town.

In case I end up halfway ‘round the world, I’m grateful today for my mother’s hugs and the chance to watch a movie with my sisters late at night and the frequency of sleepovers with good friends.

I’m grateful for all the things I have right now that I might someday miss. But mostly I’m grateful that I can trust in God’s sovereignty, rest in His plan for my life, and live with joy and“strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow”.

STOP.

Five-Minute Friday: Welcome

It's been a while. I've been too busy living life to write about it- but there are plenty of ideas floating around in my mind. Give me a bit, they'll show up here eventually. Meanwhile, I've decided to join in on The Gypsy Mama's Five Minute Fridays, which I was first exposed to on Gretchen's "Little Pink House" blog (there's a link on the side of mine to hers). Each week she gives a prompt, and you write for five minutes and post it. So here goes!



I’ve always been welcomed to new places, but this year I’ve been learning about the special joys of being welcomed home.

Sometimes it’s a good, home-cooked meal from my mom, who knows that dining hall fare is never as good as something from our kitchen. A happy dance in the kitchen with my sister. A hug from my dad. Those are the intentional welcomes.

Then there are the things that just are—things that scream, “You’re home!” The way my house smells (you know how every house has a unique scent?). The familiar feel of my bed. The sound of my dad making bad jokes, my dog skittering across the hardwood floor, the train whistle blowing at night.

But my favorite welcome? When it’s late at night, and my parents have gone to bed, and I’m in my room. Maybe reading, or skyping someone, or journaling. At some point there’s a soft knock on my door, and one of my sisters creeps in and sits on the bed with me. She tells a story about something that’s happened, plopping her legs across mine. Soon the other one has joined us, bringing her laptop or her homework. And we spend the evening that way, all doing our own thing, but together and there’s usually a lot of laugher. Because we’ve grown up, we’re not the little squabbling girls we used to be. The youngest is about to turn sixteen. We’re (mostly) friends now. And they’re glad I’m home.

I love college. I’ve started to refer to it as “home”, too, but there’s just nothing like returning to my family and the place where I grew up.

Thoughts on 1 Samuel 8

When my Government teacher in high school was explaining the existence of government, he used an interesting example: the Israelites in Canaan.

People have two inherent conflicting desires, desires that are so strong they are almost needs. One is the desire for independence. The other is the desire for community.

As I said before, those two desires are intrinsically at odds—but God had a plan for Israel that would allow for both. He outlined exactly how to live so that they could exist as free, independent people in a well-functioning community. He gave them the Law.

If Israel had been capable of following the Law to the letter, it would have worked perfectly. Even as sinful people, with the institution of the judges it worked pretty well.

But they weren’t content. They asked for a king, so that they would be like all of the other nations. To protect them, to bring them together to fight battles, to make them prosper. And check out Samuel’s response:

“This is what the king who reigns over you will do: He will take your sons and make them serve… He will take your daughters to be performers and cooks and bakers…He will take a tenth of your flocks, and you yourselves will become his slaves.”

He knows that the price of the benefits that a king provides is a great loss of independence and freedom. God’s balance will be upset. But the people don’t care, of course. So they get a king, and many more kings after that, and out of a good fifty kings in Israel and Judah only nine or ten turn out to be considered “good”.

I just thought all of this was really interesting. God knows the desires of our hearts, and he knows how to respond to them. He knows us and our tendencies and natures better than we ever could know ourselves.

Moments and Sensations

Some days, my senses seem to play a larger role in life than usual. Things feel fragmented and instead of people and events, what stands out in my mind are emotions, scents, temperatures, color schemes.

Glasses fogged with raindrops blur the world and make everything insubstantial. Somehow they make me feel as though I look blurred and insubstantial to the rest of the world, too, until I wipe them off.

Juggling a McDonald’s caramel latte (better than Starbucks’, I’ve decided), a FedEx package, an ID and door key, a Walgreens bag, and a purse while holding open the Houghton door with my foot for a dad with a dolly loaded with his daughter’s things. It’s move-out day. Chaos.

Chill air, misty raindrops- wind and water are the elements of the day. Contrast: in three-ish days I will be under the Israeli sun.

Hugs. Hard ones. Prolonged. These are goodbye hugs— some for a few weeks, some for three months, some much longer. These are emotion-filled and bittersweet. And yet it hasn’t quite sunk in that I won’t be seeing all of them tomorrow.

Grey and white and greenish and black. Clouds, empty dorm room walls, my rain jacket, graduation gowns. Those are the colors of today.

Echoes. Calls of “Goodbye!” echo through the halls. The echo of the microphone through the large Moody Church sanctuary as the speaker gave the commencement address. The echo of my voice when I sing (as I incessently do) in my nearly-empty dorm room.

A musty smell. A rainy smell. Nail polish remover. Cleaning spray. The fast food everyone’s brought back for lunch since the dining hall is closed.

These are some of today’s moments and sensations.

100 Days

You know that pattern of conversation where you say, “I just can’t wait for ____!!!!” and someone decides to insert wisdom into your life by saying something along the lines of, “Well, don’t wish away the time till it gets here. You’ll end up wishing away your whole life if you’re not careful. The journey is sometimes the best part” ?

Well, it’s gotten to the point in the year where everything is about “next year”. The ways our floors will change. The things we’ll do differently. The classes. The many different sorts of relationships that have to be put on pause for now but will be resumed in the fall.

There are exactly 100 days until the day I have to be back on campus for choir. 100 days until that much-anticipated “next year”.

What will I do with that 100 days?

I won’t wish them away. In the next 100 days, I will learn some things. I will grow a bit. I will accomplish some tasks, and have some fun, and go through some bad days. I’ll earn some money, and deepen friendships, and move on from some things. I’ll live.

And on August 19th I will still be me, but a little different.

As I was reminded last August by a very wise lady, “Don’t spend your life waiting to live it”.

Going Home

I think I’ve always tended to subconsciously think of going to heaven as going any other new place—it may be wonderful and I may come to love it in time, but it will be an adjustment. It’ll take a while to become home, sort of how Moody did.

Then this morning in chapel, we sang “How Great Thou Art”. As I sang, “When He shall come with shouts of acclamation and take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!” I thought about it. We are not of this world, but that’s not an easy mindset to get into. Will I really, truly be able to be full of nothing but joy when I’m on my way to heaven? After all, my coming to Moody was joyful, but I still had some sadness at leaving home, and that was a natural and good thing, wasn’t it?

Then I was reminded of two things.

First, a line in the movie Sleepless in Seattle, which I watched last night. It’s really cheesy, but it works. Tom Hanks’s character is describing what was special about his late wife, and he says, “I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home… only to no home I’d ever been before. I was just taking her hand to help her out of the car and I knew.”

Second, a scene from Anne of the Island, the third book in the Anne of Green Gables series. Anne and her friend Ruby are discussing death and heaven, and Ruby says, “I think… and I get so homesick… and frightened. Heaven must be very beautiful, of course, the Bible says so—but Anne, it won’t be what I’m used to.”

Here is Anne’s resolve as she thinks it over later that night:
“When she came to the end of one life it must not be to face the next with the shrinking terror of something wholly different -- something for which accustomed thought and ideal and aspiration had unfitted her. The little things of life, sweet and excellent in their place, must not be the things lived for; the highest must be sought and followed; the life of heaven must be begun here on earth. “

So there, I think, is my answer. Seeking to begin the life of heaven while here on the earth, and trusting God to manage the rest.

“I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this.”
--The Chronicles of Narnia: The Last Battle

Blog it. But live it first.

‎"…the real meat of life, the stuff that really matters, the part that makes it beautiful to be human–well, none of that stuff has a USB port. You can’t really Twitter the music of a child’s laugh, and no Facebook page will replace the beauty of taking a casserole to a sick friend.

So blog life, Twitter it, IM it, podcast it…and do it well.

But first?

Live it."

-A blogger named Shannon

I think that pretty much speaks for itself.

Real life is beautiful. There's nothing wrong with capturing and sharing what you can. I think that's beautiful, too, and I want to do more of it. But let's not forget to place LIVING life at higher value than creating an online representation of it.

Stress and Philosophy

I've been wound pretty tightly lately. Nothing particularly worth mentioning- I'm just a college student, and there are always times when the various stressors of life seem to meet up and talk you over, and decide to all attack at once. I've had lots to do, lots to think over, and not lots of sleep.

That all changed pretty quickly. Not that there aren't still things to think over. But the homework stress has gone down tremendously with the turning in of a paper this morning, the opportunity for sleep over the next week looks promising, and I'm going home for Easter weekend in three days.

It's funny. You would expect that when everything that's been stressing you out suddenly disappears, you'd feel light and relaxed. But I don't.

Instead, I feel similar to the way you feel when you've run a lot- say a mile, for those of you who (like me) are not runners. You push yourself to keep going for that mile mark without walking, and you do it! Your immediate instinct is to stop, or to instantly slow to a walk. You're done. You've accomplished what you're trying to do. But it doesn't work that way. If you just stop like that, your insides seize up and breathing isn't fun and your entire body is just out of rhythm. It wants to keep running. You have to slow down gradually.

I guess life is like that, too. When you just stop, you seize up and just feel kind of twisted and ill inside. You want to keep stressing over something. I'm not sure what the "life" parallel is to slowing down gradually. But for now, I'm going to take a nap.

A final thought: In my philosophy class today we talked about Friedrich Nietzsche. He's the guy who said "God is dead. Man has killed him." He's basically of the opinion that Christianity destroys everything. And unfortunately, a lot of his philosophy makes sense. When someone mentioned that at the end of the lecture, my professor said something that really resonated with me. He said that we don't necessarily have to deny everything that pagan philosophers said. Often their observations about the world and humanity are correct. But we don't have a God who is bound by the systems of the world. He came lowly and contrite, and He overcame anyway. So even though these people are trying to make God obsolete or powerless or nonexistent… all they really do is give us more reasons to praise Him.

Very cool.

Time to sleep now.

The Power of the Spoken Word

Jun 29, 2010. I am standing in a room with 6,000 believers at an EFCA national youth conference, and I am tired both physically and emotionally. I feel cold. I am enjoying myself, but simply not able to connect on an emotional level. Then as a part of the worship service, the man on stage asks us to recite together what the people in Revelation say to praise God. Thousands of voices mumble in sync.

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of hosts; the whole earth is filled with His glory.

“Louder,” says the man.

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of hosts! The whole earth is filled with His glory!

“Louder!”

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of hosts!!! The whole earth is filled with His glory!!!

This time he doesn’t need to tell us to be louder. Something in my heart has ruptured, and although ninety seconds ago I was about as passionate as a stone, no more. Suddenly I am overwhelmed, and large, hot tears are streaming down my face, which is tilted towards the ceiling, my arms outstretched though I do not remember consciously raising them.

HOLY, HOLY, HOLY IS THE LORD, GOD OF HOSTS- THE WHOLE EARTH IS FILLED WITH HIS GLORY!!!!!

~*~

There is something about proclaiming aloud the truth of who God is that makes Him seem more real. The spoken word is laced with power. It brings density and glory to my vision of Him, not seen and yet perceived. He has weight. And I am moved.

That night last June is a perfect example- but then, so are the few minutes I spent praying with some brothers at the beginning of New Testament Survey class this morning. As we prayed over an ill professor and the school’s financial situation, our were filled with phrases of praise and truth, thanking God for what He has done and declaring Him to be loving, just, and powerful. And though we were sleepy and school-minded, those words are powerful and engaging.

~*~

I am on spring tour with the Women’s Concert Choir. In between songs, girls step up to the microphone to recite verses of scripture from memory- from the heart. The words come to life in a way they never have before, and when I read the verses for myself I hear their voices ringing in my head. Rachel says, “But I will heal them,” and I shiver, and my arms are all over in goosebumps. Sarah says, “It is done! I am the Alpha and Omega!” and I cannot help but grin. Kirsten says, “Cast down, but not destroyed.” and I feel strengthened.

~*~

There is something about hearing scripture recited- not read impersonally and stumblingly, but vocalized from the hidden places of the heart where it has been stored and meditated on- that brings is to life and sharpens it to pierce the very soul.

It reminds me of reading Shakespeare. On the page it is like a puzzle, requiring thought to work through. It was a mental exercise, filled with themes and figures of speech, appreciated for it’s inherent genius but not on an emotional level. But oh, the difference when it is performed! On stage or screen, from memory with emotion and body language, every obscure metaphor and passionate speech comes to life.

I have found scripture to be the same way. On the page, scripture is full of meaning and truth and power and goodness. But recited, it is full of Meaning and Truth and Power and Goodness.

~*~

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth

and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord

who was conceived by the Holy Spirit;

born of the virgin Mary;

suffered under Pontius Pilate;

was crucified, dead, and buried.

The third day He rose again from the dead.

He ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.

From thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit

the holy catholic Church

the communion of saints

the forgiveness of sins

the resurrection of the body

and the life everlasting.

Amen.

The Apostle’s Creed. A large part of my life this semester. The end to every choir concert; the beginning to every Christianity and Western Culture I class each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 11:00 am.

~*~

There is something about together declaring belief and hope in the Most High God that unites a body, in Christ and to Christ. It is solidifying. It strengthens one’s concept of what exactly is meant by “I believe”, by sheer repetition and vocabulary.

Sitting in chapel as I think about this (as these thoughts are being composed on the back of a to-do list), if I close my eyes I am very aware of the presence of the people on either side of me. They are solid, dense, each a thick and heavy mass of connotation and identity.

Why, then, is my perception of the presence of God more akin to a vague mist, everywhere but wispy?

God should be the densest, the most REAL.

Creeds and rituals may sound “too Catholic”. But if they bring a proper density to my perception of God Almighty, they are more than worth my time.

Because there is power in the spoken word.

The Little Things

I love….

1) Packing for trips

2) Singing Broadway in the stairwells

3) Pictures of people I love

4) Waking up to my roommate’s hairdryer

5) Random late-night chats in the kitchen with a certain former roommate over cinnamon toast and grapefruit

6) Sweaters with too-long sleeves

7) Rainymood.com

8) Folding hot laundry straight from the dryer

9) The clock on our wall that never keeps the correct time but always ticks away soothingly

10) Bamboo & lotus hand lotion that smells like plants and therefore reminds me of summer.

11) Words like “therefore” and “indubitably” and “whence”

12) Homemade things

13) Looking at other peoples’ handwriting

14) Beginning a new journal, and wondering what will be written on the hitherto empty pages

15) Words like “hitherto”

16) When people call me “Meg”, naturally, without meaning to or thinking about it

17) People in my life that remind me about God’s grace, goodness, and power

18) Aromas that mentally drag me back in time

19) Making lists. And crossing off list items, if they’re to-do lists.

20) The church I attend here in the city. A blog to follow concerning last week’s sermon, hopefully within the next few days.

Seeing Anew

It is so easy to become used to things.

I had a really good cheeseburger the other day, and I realized just how bad the ones at Moody are.

I stepped into the shower upon arriving home for break and suffered a moment of extreme confusion at the water coming from the left instead of the right like it is at school.

After two weeks of Christmas break, I have regained my addiction to reading. I remember before I left, wondering how I would manage a whole semester with not much time for fiction. I wonder how I did manage it.

And tonight, in the brisk air, I noticed the stars. Constellations that I recognize with only a brief glance such as Orion and the Pleiades, sparkling with more depth than the inky sky in which they hang.

They were beautiful. Dazzling. Amazing. Despite the cold, all I wanted to do was stand there on the asphalt with my head tilted back, breathing deeply and indulging the awe that I felt over a sight I’d seen my entire life.

I live in Chicago now. Unlike the cornfields of northwest Indiana, the city rarely allows for even a single star to shine through the clouds and light pollution. I knew before I left that I would miss the stars, and so I do, but apparently I’d become used to not seeing them. Because when I looked at the stars after months of city skies, I saw something that I missed when I saw them every day.

My throat caught at their beauty and mystery. My mind struggled to comprehend their size and majesty. And my soul rejoiced in the God that created those stars, the God that knows them by number and name and holds the entire universe in His hand.

It reminds me of the day that I got my first pair of glasses. I was seven. I’d apparently been having my vision problems for quite some time, because when I placed the lenses in front of my eyes for the first time, I saw the world in a whole new way. I had literally forgotten that it was possible to see airplanes in the sky, not just hear them, as well as the fact that the individual leaves on trees are distinguishable.

I’d become used to a world where things blurred. I didn’t remember the alternative.

That day was one filled with wonder, discovery, and excitement. And I can’t help but wonder what it takes to look at something with fresh eyes. Is an absence required first? Or is it a mindset that can be consciously formed?

For example, as a church-grown girl who prayed the prayer at four years old, what does it take for me to see old Sunday school Bible stories with the new clarity of a new pair of glasses and the awe of a sky full of stars after a sojourn in the city?

I don’t have an answer for that. Faith, prayer, trying? Wanting to? I don’t think it’s trying, because I’ve done that and I’m incompetent.

At my church in Chicago, the sermon series over the past few months was entitled “In Case You Missed It: A Grown-Up Look at Sunday School Stories”. The morning that I visited Edgewater Baptist for the first time, the story was from Genesis 3, the fall of man.

You have to understand something. I’m a Moody Bible Institute student, and that sermon happened to land on the week that I had studied the Fall in at least three different classes and may even have had a chapel speaker talk about it, coincidentally of course (*cough*). So when I saw the sermon title, I automatically began the process of mentally shutting down. I had this covered. I’d heard my Bible college profs explain it to me from three different angles. What more could I get from it?

Two things were wrong with that attitude. First, I was falling into the pride trap that so many Moody students succumb to. Superiority. Second, I was forgetting that the Bible is a living book. That morning I got more out of the sermon that I have in a very long time, and I’ve heard some very good, effective sermons. My notes filled the margins of the bulletin and I looked at Genesis 3 in a way I’d never seen it before. With clarity and awe.

That doesn’t tell me what it takes to see with new eyes. But it tells me that it’s possible, and as long as I know that, that whole “faith and prayer” thing sounds like a pretty good idea to me.

As One Being Taught

I am an extremely habitual person. There are countless things that I always do, often without thinking, simply because I always do them.

Some tendencies are innocuous, like sitting on the same side of the Bro-Sis table at each meal. Some are beneficial; for example, using the same shower in our community bathroom makes me feel more at home. Some are just plain silly, such as always putting certain foods (like potatoes) in certain spots on my plate (bottom left).

But some habits are harmful.

When I’m in class and my professor is halfway to the “Amen” before I’ve consciously realized we’re praying (though my head is bowed with eyes closed and hands folded anyway) something is wrong.

When I’m studying for a theology quiz and the notes in my own handwriting don’t look familiar in the slightest, there is a problem.

And I’m beginning to get concerned about the pattern that has been emerging in my mornings lately. The one involving an epic struggle to stay awake and alert until after my first class and chapel, at which point I collapse for an hour-long nap and wake up just in time to go to lunch.

So I’m resolving to change some of my habits.

First of all, prayer should not be a mindless routine. Actually, I believe that the root of these concerns is a deficiency in my prayer life. Praying consistently and wholeheartedly is something that I have always had a hard time with, but especially lately.

In light of this, I’ve decided to make prayer a focus. Just recognizing that I need to work on prayer is not enough, though. I need practical goals to help make sure that I am progressing.

So here it is: After chapel, instead of going for a nap, at least three times a week (Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays is the plan) I will shut myself in the Houghton 1 prayer room or somewhere else private. I will set my phone alarm for thirty minutes and I will not leave until that alarm goes off. Maybe I won’t be able to focus the whole time, but I will stay there. And I’m telling people about it (my roommates, my friends, whoever’s reading this) to ensure that I actually do it.

So ask me how it’s going sometime, and slap me if I make excuses (figuratively, please).

As for the rest of it:

“The Sovereign LORD has given me an instructed tongue,

to know the word that sustains the weary.

He wakens me morning by morning,

wakens my ear to listen like one being taught.”

--Isaiah 50:4

I will rely on God to help me not just to wake up every day but to thrive, to really live that day.

And not just to listen.

Now there is an interesting concept. Not just “to listen”, but “to listen like one being taught”. When my notes are unrecognizable and every effort is focused on staying awake, I am certainly not listening like one being taught. I might be listening well enough to write down what I need, but no further.

To listen as one being taught I must be engaged, fascinated, receptive. And I should be. After all, what I am learning is of the utmost importance and interest to me. But I’m weak, and I’m flawed, so I have to rely on His aid.

I’m changing my habits… but I can’t do it alone.

Of Life Homogeneous and Laughter-Filled

I am so thankful for laughter.

Today I couldn’t remember what I did last year on Halloween, and it was bothering me, so I opened my old journal to figure it out. As I flipped through the pages on which the days of last fall were recorded, some entries caught my eye.

On October 27, 2009, I wrote, “I miss laughing. I feel like I barely remember how to laugh, laugh for real, from inside. I can’t stand this.” I remember telling a friend around that time, “Lately whenever I laugh, it’s because I think I should be laughing… but I don’t actually feel like it, and it’s just on the surface, not deep like laughter should be.”

This time last year, I was feeling “uprooted,

confused,

contradicting,

distracted,

off… desperate for affirmation,

friendship,

closure,

certainty.”

“Nothing, or not much, is really that bad right now, but this crazy detached sporadic feeling I’ve got is making me insane!!!”

Life didn’t feel like a continuation anymore, but rather a series of disassociated 24-hour periods having no succession or predictability. Things in my life were amazing one day and horrid the next, and it was all out of my control.

But now, a year later…

A day doesn’t go by without good, hearty laughter—or without thoughtful, intelligent conversations. Life is unpredictable, to be sure, but not in the disconcerting roller-coaster way of my senior year. There is a flow. In the words of Lucy Maude Montgomery,

Then, suddenly, everything seemed to fall into focus—[Moody], professors, classes, students, studies, social doings. Life became homogeneous again, instead of being made up of detached fragments.”

Now I’m feeling at home

content

stable

focused (mostly)

happy… in possession of affirmation

friendship

peace

faith.

Do I have closure? Not on everything I wanted to, no. But the lack of it doesn’t gnaw at me like it used to.

Do I have certainty? Absolutely not. Most things right now are uncertain (though I do revel in the structure of college life). But that’s okay. God will lead me as He will, and I trust it’ll be a good way. And anyhow, the uncertainty I was referring to in my journal was not the uncertainty of future. It was the uncertainty of relationships and knowing where I stood with people, as well as the uncertainty of making the right college choice. As for college, I am most incontestably in the right place, and for the most part I know where I stand with people.

It is far too easy sometimes to forget to thank God for where He’s brought us. That’s one reason that I journal. So that on days like today, I can remember how I was feeling not so long ago and see how God has worked in my life to change things. I can remember the days I was hopeless, and see how things worked out- for good. I can remember the prayers I prayed and sometimes see the answers.

And I can remember just how much a simple thing like genuinely laughing can mean to me.

Last Halloween (and I can’t believe that I forgot, but the mind does funny things on sleep-deprived Fridays) I spent the evening with good friends… and here’s the best part: “I laughed so much tonight, from deep inside. I needed that so badly.”

Thank You, Lord, for creating laughter… and for allowing it to be part of my daily life right now.

Beyond Complacency

Disturb us, Lord, when
We are too pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when
with the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wilder seas
Where storms will show Your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

We ask you to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push us into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.

This we ask in the name of our Captain,
Who is Jesus Christ.

Sir Francis Drake, 1557, before departing from Portsmouth, England, to circumnavigate the globe.

This poem made me think. About a lot of things. But mostly about being here at Moody.

Moody is what I’ve been working towards for the past two years. For much longer, really, when you consider that in public school they start pushing college-readiness when you’re quite young. I carefully chose classes and activities, pushed myself to get the GPA and the SAT scores, took Advanced Placement tests, joined National Honor Society, kept track of service projects, and read classic literature.

And now, here I am. I am in college, the college of my choice. What now? Do I just breathe a sigh of relief and become complacent, my goals achieved and nothing more to work for?

I need a new goal, a new thirst, a new drive. It doesn’t have to be something related to my own success. In fact, it probably shouldn’t be. Instead, while I’m here at Moody I need to remember that my future ministry (whatever it will be) is as worth preparing for while I’m here as university was while I was in high school.

I think I’ll print out this poem, and hang it somewhere I’ll see it often.

Wearing Clothes

The act of wearing clothing, modest clothing, is many things. It is, of course, a way to honor and assist our brothers in Christ. It is a form of self-respect. It creates feminine mystique, which can be captivating. But tonight the women of Moody Bible Institute were introduced to the concept of clothing as an acknowledgement of our fallen nature. The following is a late-night, rambling reflection on some points made by the speakers at tonight’s all hall meeting.

Adam and Eve were not created to wear clothes. They had complete unity with each other and with God in the Garden before the fall of mankind into sin. After the fall, as well as the corruption of masculinity and femininity and the curses that come along with sin, there was this consequence: shame. They could no longer walk with God there, and they had to be clothed in animal skins.

By wearing clothes and being completely unexposed, we are accepting that we with our sinful nature are not worthy of that original unity. Not with God, and not with each other. (Of course, when Christ covers our sins the gap is bridged between ourselves and the Lord, but you get the idea.) I don’t want to try to make this more deep than it should be, but it made sense to me and I felt it should be shared.

Another very good point that was raised is that there is such a thing as going too far to the “modesty” extreme; that is, mistaking out-of-date and just plain unflattering clothes to be the most modest. There is a fine line to be drawn, and especially with today’s standards we are not to be drawn into the culture. However, the way that people see us is a reflection on God. I read an article by a young, Christian, married woman about how she dresses to please her husband and to be beautiful in his eyes, and yet she is also careful to be seen as classy and lovely to those around them so as to be a good reflection on him. I feel as though the same can be applied to us in relation to our Bridegroom. If we dress the way we do because of our convictions in Christ, we do not want the result to be a negative reflection on God. This does not mean that what is “in” should be important or even necessarily a factor, but that we should dress in a manner that is flattering enough to show that you are a woman and yet is modest enough to show that you are a lady.

Every day that I spend here at Moody is a reminder of just how passionate I am for issues relating to young women and godly femininity. I love it.

I leave you with Anne Shirley, saying severely: “Clothes are very important!” Who knew?

Expectations, Obedience, and Dating A Lot

We all have, before we ever set foot on campus, ideas about college and what life will be like while there. Well, guess what? Less than 48 hours on campus at Moody and the plans are already changing. My expectations are being blown out of the water in the most wonderful way. As for expectations that I haven’t confronted yet, I’ve received some pretty wise advice from faculty and upperclassmen already.

My Plan #1: I will live in Houghton with my roommate named Lauren.

God’s Version: I will live in Houghton with my roommateS, Lauren and Abby.

Yup, we now have three people in a two-person room, with triple bunk beds to the ceiling and lots of strategically arranged furniture. It was quite a shock at first, but we’re all being quite flexible and we’re getting along very well.

My Plan #2: I will audition for Chorale and Band, make both, and join Chorale.

God’s Version: I will audition for Chorale and Women’s Choir, make both, and join Women’s Choir.

This was clearly a God thing. For several months I have been convinced that Chorale was the place for me. When I got here yesterday, Women’s Choir was not on the agenda. However, there were several little nudges from above that I couldn’t ignore. First, I realized that I wasn’t excited about band at all, and I really wanted to sing... and also that for the first time in my life I did not feel prepared for the flute audition. That right there was a big red flag to me. So I decided that Women’s Choir would be my Chorale backup. Today I auditioned for both. Chorale was first, and everyone was incredibly nice, but they were a little skeptical about why I was trying for choir after a long history of band. Also, apparently my low range has really developed lately, because the Chorale director decided I’m an alto! Then I was stuck waiting for the Women’s Choir audition for over an hour, talking to the upperclassmen there an hearing stories, sitting randomly with a couple of the freshman girls I know and like the best so far, and hearing stories about the choir. The actual audition was even better. The director, who is the most hyper lady I’ve ever seen, was very sweet and wonderful. So when the results came up and my name was on both lists, I crossed off Chorale and initialed Women’s Concert Choir. Later, the upperclassmen who had been at the auditions visited my floor and sang “You Are My Sunshine” to Bekah and me before they gave us health forms and a little bag of candy. It made me smile. Plus, for Spring Break I get to go to British Columbia and the Pacific Northwestern states, and in May I get to go to ISRAEL for tours!!!!!

My Plan #3: I will become best friends with my roommate.

God’s Version: I have no idea yet. Maybe, maybe not.

So far, all three of us are getting along very well! I’m actually very excited about this semester. But at this point, I’ve laid the beginnings of foundations for relationships with dozens of people. How am I to know which will be soul-deep and which will only brush the surface? My prayers for my roommates and I are that we will live together comfortably and considerately, that we will spend this semester with servant attitudes and loving hearts, and that we will learn from each other.

My Plan #4: God will place me in a Practical Christian Ministry that fits my abilities perfectly, that I love, and that will give the feeling that I’m making a big difference.

God’s Version: He put me in an after school program at the Salvation Army.

Maybe I will love it. Maybe it will feel like I’m making an enormous difference. This morning, though, one of my FYT professors made an excellent point. She reminded us that sometimes we are called to serve not through our giftedness but through obedience, not in strength but in weakness. I may feel helpless, but the Spirit through me can accomplish what needs to be done. I may feel useless, but I have to trust that I am in my spot for a reason even if that reason is not revealed to me.

My Plan #5: I will find the perfect guy, know he’s the only one for me, and get married right after graduation.

God’s Version: Obviously, I do not know.

I bet you’re expecting this to be about the possible call to singleness and the point that I’m here at Moody to get my BA not my MRS. I believe both of those, but instead I will be sharing the advice of one of my FYT profs. It is her opinion that God has placed a lot of “highly qualified” individuals on campus together who have the same beliefs and the same calling, and therefore we should “date a lot!” because after all, a date isn’t a ring! While this discussion was pretty humorous, I can see where she’s coming from. But I’m not going to outline all my views on college dating in this post.

So, what I learned today in a nutshell: God’s plans are better- trust Him and be excited. Don’t subdivide the spiritual from learning. Stay away from creepy people on the street. I can be an alto now if I want. Culby 5 guys are cool. This place called Portillo’s has cake shakes, which are exactly what they sound like and really good. I really like it here.