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

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.

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”.

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.

Enough

I attended a Seder dinner here at Moody last week. I'm so glad I did- I feel like I understand the Lord's Supper and of course the Passover so much better now. So many things about it were just very cool. There's one part I keep thinking about, though.

There's a word in Hebrew, "dayenu" (basically pronounced "die-AY-new"), that means "It would have been enough". In this section, the host of the Seder reads a series of phrases, and after each one everyone else repeats, "Dayenu!"

If He had only rescued us from Egypt, but had not punished the Egyptians,

(It would have been enough.)

If He had only punished the Egyptians, but had not destroyed their gods,

(It would have been enough.)

If He had only destroyed their gods, but had not slain their firstborn,

(It would have been enough.)

And so on. For a Messianic Seder it goes all the way to:

If He had only given us eternal life, but had not given us abundant life,

(It would have been enough.)

If He had only given us abundant life, but had not called us to serve Him,

(It would have been enough.)

If He had only called us to serve Him, but had not indwelt us with His Spirit,

(It would have been enough.)

If He had only indwelt us with His Spirit, but had not promised us rewards,

(It would have been enough.)

Now here's my favorite part. The last line.

Every time it seems the Lord has done enough for us, He always does more.

All I can say is, Amen.

Elevation

This week in one of my classes, a fellow student said something that struck me. It was along the lines of "The more we humble ourselves, the more glorious God appears to us." It got me thinking.

Two and a half years ago, my family went on a summer vacation "out West". My favorite part was the Grand Teton National Park.

Before that trip, the only mountains I'd ever seen were the Smokies down in Tennessee.

After that trip, I was reluctant even to call the Smokies "mountains". I prefer "large hills".

Since that trip, I have seen other mountains. But the Tetons remain the most awe-inspiring range I have ever seen.

Why? The answer is simple.

Elevation.

In the Smoky Mountains, the elevation is ever-varying between about 900 and 6000 feet over a range of 36 miles. The foothills roll long before the range begins. In Wyoming, though, it's a different story.

The elevation of the town Jackson Hole, sitting just below the Tetons' peaks, is about 6200 feet. The landscape is flat, marked only by fields and rivers, until suddenly

colossal

majestic

snow-covered

jagged-peaked

Mountains

rise almost unbelievably out of the plains.

The peaks reach nearly 14,000 feet, which may not be a big deal compared to the Colorado Rockies, but remember- that's a very sudden increase of about 8,000 feet. It isn't the height above sea level that makes the Tetons impressive. It's the height from base to peak, and the sharp drop between the two.

The Tetons wouldn't really be all that impressive if the elevation of Jackson Hole was much higher, or if the ground rose more gradually. They're not record-setting peaks. As it is, though, they're spectacular, awe-inspiring, breathtaking.

Our God is colossal. He is awesome, powerful, majestic, huge, glorious.

But how can we see that if, in our flawed minds, our own elevation isn't too significantly different?

The more humble we are- the lower our elevation- the more glorious our Lord appears in our eyes.

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.

Experiencing Life (an alternative to the American Dream)

Originally written and posted by World Racer Keturah Weathers on 12/24/2009
www.theworldrace.org

I'm beginning to see that I've been selling myself short. I want to live more. I want to live better. I want to learn to be everything God created me to be, not just some of it. I think this is a good first step. People seem to think that following God is equivalent to sacrificing your personality. They think Christianity means living inside a set of rules that doesn't allow you to be yourself. It's just the opposite! C.S. Lewis puts it nicely, "The more we let God take us over, the more truly ourselves we become -- because he made us. He invented all the different people that you and I were intended to be...It is when I turn to Christ, when I give up myself to His personality, that I first begin to have a real personality of my own."

I'm so thankful that I've been set free from the things that I used to be so wrapped up in: the values America teaches us to be concerned with: success, stability, safety. Let's all work 5 days a week so that we can not only put food on the table and clothes on our backs, but money in the bank to buy nice things and entertain ourselves. Since when does entertainment buy happiness? We are taught to spend so much of our time working, checking things off on to-do lists, and creating a nice, comfy safety-net for ourselves. But is that all there is to life? Maybe it is for some people, but not for me.

Get me out of the 9-to-5, I want to experience life. I want to do bigger things. I want to change the world, and I want to be changed. It's not a dream too big for reality, and I will put no limitations on myself, because I am a child of God.

When I read this blog post about eight months ago, something clicked. This was how I had been feeling for nearly two years. This was the concept I had been trying in vain to put into words. This was why I wanted to come to Moody, to go into ministry, to rearrange my priorities.

What do you think? How does this apply to God's calling for you? How do you know when the calling is from him and when the "wisdom" of the world gets in the way?

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.