Something you don't often hear me say is that I envy Old Testament Biblical characters. Do I care to be Bathsheba, lusted after by a king so much that he kills my husband? Nope. Perhaps Rachel, then, mother of one of the greatest Biblical heroes but competes for attention from her hubsband with her sister. Don't think so. Esther, savior of the Jewish people? Not really in the mood for a beauty contest, thank you. All that aside, I do envy some of the men, particularly now. I could use a burning bush a-la-Moses, or just a soggy piece of animal skin a-la-Gideon. I'm waiting for a sign from God...and I'm finding out just how impatient I can be.
Don't get me wrong--I know that God has plans for me (Jeremiah tells me so) and that He is in total control. I know that my worries about finding the right career path at this time are just that--worries. Unfounded concerns that might show my human failings more than I wish. I would love to be so completely in tune with God that I wouldn't give any of the daily reminders that my future is quite uncertain a second thought. At the end of the day, I'm still human. Still failing. Still worrying.
Take one part economic recession, one part academic competition, and one part indiscriminate "change" and you have a cocktail for peace broken into chaos. I have a back-up plan in place, and even a back-up to the back-up. If I have to, I'll stay working at the company caring for mentally/physcially handicapped people. If I have to, I can always go back and teach preschool again (I still love those little rugrats despite the temper tantrums). If I have to. What I want is to use the education I've acquired, get a full-time job teaching in a community college. I've applied and applied. The only answers I've gotten so far are rejections--the rest are terribly, nerve-wrackingly silent. At this point I would almost prefer a rejection. Anticipation is overrated, at least where jobs are concerned.
I was doing pretty well for quite a while, even fooling myself that I would be perfectly happy with my back-up plans. I told everyone that I had faith. I did, and do. It's just not as strong lately as I'd like it to me. What I need, in typical whiny human fashion, is an indelible sign. Something unmistakeable. Something that will give me the answers I need: should I stay or should I go? Will I be moving this summer or staying here? Will I be teaching full-time, part-time, or not at all? Will my job duties change at my current position, making my routine life as a "house parent" suddenly a lot more difficult and stressful?
I'm finding myself in limbo, and not the happy party game (although I never really enjoyed the concept of a game that would only benefit chiropractors). It's scary graduating school, especially with no options for staying in school, in relative safety. I'm going to have loans to pay back soon. Extra bills. I'd rather have homework...again.
I've prayed for signs. I've prayed for dreams--and trust me, those have NOT been helpful unless my sister is really going to help care for my mother's mysterious birth of quintuplets (thanks, Dad). I've prayed for peace, for patience, for whatever other virtue is going to get me through this time. I feel some of it. I'd be going crazy 24/7 if I didn't. I just don't like this uncertainty, this worry that I'm not going to make the right choice. That I'm not going to have a choice.
Praying for faith and patience is a good thing. If God answers the prayer, though, be prepared to learn them in spades. :)
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Price of Prayer
It's late at night and I'm surfing around Facebook checking my friends' statuses and playing a couple of simple games (and, yes, procrastinating on finishing some homework). Any of us who are regular Facebookers know all about those ads on the right side of the page. Some are weird, some are offensive, and some just happen to catch your eye. This one did all three, though not at first. It said simply "Pray in the Vatican" with a secondary caption claiming that you could have your prayer read in the Vatican. I'll leave the grammatical criticism out of this for the most part. :)
I click on the link and am taken to a website that looks fairly innocuous. http://www.delivermyprayer.com/ has some beautiful photographs of the Vatican that are nearly seductive in their charm and detail. It's when you get to the real heart of the website and figure out what is really going on that "seduction" becomes a very appropriate word.
According to their "About Us" page, this organization has based themselves in a very powerful location. "As the Pope's ceremonial center and burial place of Saint Peter, the principal of the twelve apostles, Saint Peter's Basilica lies on some of the most uniquely divine ground for prayer." Wait, did I read that right? Divine ground for prayer? That doesn't quite match with what the Bible says:
Matthew 6:6 "But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." (KJV) or for those of us NIV-ers, "But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you."
My closet, eh? My room, even? According to Jesus, who is speaking these words, the shoe-cluttered hardwood of my closet is preferable to this "divine ground." And what makes this Basilica so divine? Oh, yeah, that's right--it's a glorified graveyard. Gotcha.
But why is praying here, on this "divine ground," so much better? Let's turn back to the website. "We want to help you get your prayers heard by those who have the power to help. After you submit your prayer to us from anywhere in the world we hand deliver it to where the world has one of the closest bonds to the heavens." I'm sorry, but where did it say that I needed help getting my prayers heard? And why is praying near the graves of a few select "holy" men so much better? Praying isn't like talking on a cell phone--we don't get better reception if we're closer to a cell tower/dead saint. Nowhere that I can find in the Bible does it say that decaying matter increases the potency of prayer after Christ died for us. As far as St. Peter's Basilica being one of the closest bonds to the heavens (note their use of the plural "heavens" here...sound fishy to you, too?), that is a direct attack on the power of God. God is omnipresent. If He's everywhere, then stating that someplace has a better connection means that God is more powerful/accessible in some areas than others, that He's limited in your closet, your car, or anyplace outside of the Vatican. If my God is limited, then He's not (a) God, then is He?
The whole process of this prayer-reading is a little fuzzy, too. Say I buy into this (and I literally mean "buy"--for members it only costs 1.5 Euro per prayer; non-members pay 3 Euro per prayer. That's about $4 for Americans). Deliver My Prayer claims that "Your prayer is highly confidential and it means very much to us to keep your private thoughts strictly between you and the church." Well, it won't be confidential once you read it out loud, now will it? Oh, but they have that covered. "You may choose to have your prayer read aloud in the church or simply kept silent as our messengers emanate your communiqué to the sacred space." Ok, maybe this is a European thing, but how do you "emanate a communique?" Is this a reference to praying silently/in your head?
If you haven't picked up on this, I'm not impressed by this website, and not just because on one of their pages they commit the grievous grammatical error of claiming, once again, that the Basilica is "one of the holiest place on earth." If I believed the message of this website, that would mean that I, being saved, being the daughter of a King, a child of God, a member of the church, have a limited ability to talk to my God. If I pay these people their "minimum suggested donation," would my prayer be answered positively? What kind of guarantee would I get with a higher donation? When it comes right down to it, I'm buying my relationship with God. God becomes a prostitute, someone I invest in for what my current desire might be. I shudder at that thought.
I know a great deal of this conflict is probably arising from my Protestant roots (thank you, Pilgrims). I haven't grown up with the pressures of believing that only righteous dead people can talk to God for me, to have a relationship with no base in grace, forgiveness, or mercy. To my understanding, Catholicism is a commercialistic religion--you get what you pay for, and if you don't pay the bills, we take your eternal life away. Who would want that? Who could live like that? Apparently millions. And I don't understand them.
I hate to pass judgment on a people without having really researched, really understood what all is going on. I do want to find out more about this aspect of Christianity, not to follow it, but to understand those who do. All of my educational background, though, that teaches me critical thinking and to go back to the source for verification, tells me that there are some serious discrepancies between the Catholic faith and the Bible. That this Deliver My Prayer is what is being advertised, could color a non-believer's view of God, troubles me. It troubles me like a lot of these popular book series being sold in Wal-Mart and other superstores claiming a lot of things in their bestselling pages that aren't fully supported by scriptures. Going into those details is an entry for another day.
My challenge is this--let's think about how we are portraying what we believe and if, in our fallible human ways, have stumbled onto something not quite in line with the Bible. We're fighting a huge battle these days with Satan rearing up as he realizes his time is nearing the end. We can't afford pitfalls that will trap our unsaved neighbors, family members, friends, co-workers, and acquaintences. As the people with the light, it's our duty to illuminate the correct path.
I click on the link and am taken to a website that looks fairly innocuous. http://www.delivermyprayer.com/ has some beautiful photographs of the Vatican that are nearly seductive in their charm and detail. It's when you get to the real heart of the website and figure out what is really going on that "seduction" becomes a very appropriate word.
According to their "About Us" page, this organization has based themselves in a very powerful location. "As the Pope's ceremonial center and burial place of Saint Peter, the principal of the twelve apostles, Saint Peter's Basilica lies on some of the most uniquely divine ground for prayer." Wait, did I read that right? Divine ground for prayer? That doesn't quite match with what the Bible says:
Matthew 6:6 "But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." (KJV) or for those of us NIV-ers, "But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you."
My closet, eh? My room, even? According to Jesus, who is speaking these words, the shoe-cluttered hardwood of my closet is preferable to this "divine ground." And what makes this Basilica so divine? Oh, yeah, that's right--it's a glorified graveyard. Gotcha.
But why is praying here, on this "divine ground," so much better? Let's turn back to the website. "We want to help you get your prayers heard by those who have the power to help. After you submit your prayer to us from anywhere in the world we hand deliver it to where the world has one of the closest bonds to the heavens." I'm sorry, but where did it say that I needed help getting my prayers heard? And why is praying near the graves of a few select "holy" men so much better? Praying isn't like talking on a cell phone--we don't get better reception if we're closer to a cell tower/dead saint. Nowhere that I can find in the Bible does it say that decaying matter increases the potency of prayer after Christ died for us. As far as St. Peter's Basilica being one of the closest bonds to the heavens (note their use of the plural "heavens" here...sound fishy to you, too?), that is a direct attack on the power of God. God is omnipresent. If He's everywhere, then stating that someplace has a better connection means that God is more powerful/accessible in some areas than others, that He's limited in your closet, your car, or anyplace outside of the Vatican. If my God is limited, then He's not (a) God, then is He?
The whole process of this prayer-reading is a little fuzzy, too. Say I buy into this (and I literally mean "buy"--for members it only costs 1.5 Euro per prayer; non-members pay 3 Euro per prayer. That's about $4 for Americans). Deliver My Prayer claims that "Your prayer is highly confidential and it means very much to us to keep your private thoughts strictly between you and the church." Well, it won't be confidential once you read it out loud, now will it? Oh, but they have that covered. "You may choose to have your prayer read aloud in the church or simply kept silent as our messengers emanate your communiqué to the sacred space." Ok, maybe this is a European thing, but how do you "emanate a communique?" Is this a reference to praying silently/in your head?
If you haven't picked up on this, I'm not impressed by this website, and not just because on one of their pages they commit the grievous grammatical error of claiming, once again, that the Basilica is "one of the holiest place on earth." If I believed the message of this website, that would mean that I, being saved, being the daughter of a King, a child of God, a member of the church, have a limited ability to talk to my God. If I pay these people their "minimum suggested donation," would my prayer be answered positively? What kind of guarantee would I get with a higher donation? When it comes right down to it, I'm buying my relationship with God. God becomes a prostitute, someone I invest in for what my current desire might be. I shudder at that thought.
I know a great deal of this conflict is probably arising from my Protestant roots (thank you, Pilgrims). I haven't grown up with the pressures of believing that only righteous dead people can talk to God for me, to have a relationship with no base in grace, forgiveness, or mercy. To my understanding, Catholicism is a commercialistic religion--you get what you pay for, and if you don't pay the bills, we take your eternal life away. Who would want that? Who could live like that? Apparently millions. And I don't understand them.
I hate to pass judgment on a people without having really researched, really understood what all is going on. I do want to find out more about this aspect of Christianity, not to follow it, but to understand those who do. All of my educational background, though, that teaches me critical thinking and to go back to the source for verification, tells me that there are some serious discrepancies between the Catholic faith and the Bible. That this Deliver My Prayer is what is being advertised, could color a non-believer's view of God, troubles me. It troubles me like a lot of these popular book series being sold in Wal-Mart and other superstores claiming a lot of things in their bestselling pages that aren't fully supported by scriptures. Going into those details is an entry for another day.
My challenge is this--let's think about how we are portraying what we believe and if, in our fallible human ways, have stumbled onto something not quite in line with the Bible. We're fighting a huge battle these days with Satan rearing up as he realizes his time is nearing the end. We can't afford pitfalls that will trap our unsaved neighbors, family members, friends, co-workers, and acquaintences. As the people with the light, it's our duty to illuminate the correct path.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The "Unbalanced" Christian
We all know one of "those." The woman who never grew up and still acts like a spoiled brat well into her twenties...or thirties...or fifties... The woman who has no people skills but ends up working in nursing or as a secretary or as a counselor. The woman who drives you nuts. The woman who gives "Christian" a bad name.
Then there's the other end of the spectrum. The woman who might as well tattoo "Welcome" on her forehead because her place in life is a doormat. Need to call someone at 2am every night? You've got her number. Need an extra $50 every now and then? She'll whip out that checkbook. Got a bunch of things on your to-do list that you don't really feel like doing? She'll give up sleep, family, and her own work in order to make your life easier. Her purpose in life is to please others at the cost of herself. Service is all she knows.
Christ commanded us to love one another as we love ourselves. Not less than. Not more than. We can't go around saying "To Hell with you" (even in the most inspiring of evangelical sermons). We also can't go around saying "yes" to every request. God wants us to put Him first. That means we should spend more time and effort drawing ourselves closer to Him than on the whims of humans.
On the balance scale of service, I definitely fall more under the doormat philosophy. So many times I look at my failures, my bad habits, my struggles with sin and forget just how precious I am in God's sight. To put it mildly, I'm no stranger to depression. It took me a nervous breakdown, a brief hospitalization, numerous medications that only masked the problem, and months of semi-effective therapy before I got to the root of the problem: I wasn't paying attention to what God had to say about me in His word. He loved me. He thought I was beautiful and precious. He had great plans for me. He forgave me. I just couldn't do that for myself. Finding my meaning, my purpose in life fell completely on What Can I Do For Others. Every time I did something for someone that they couldn't do, I swelled with self-importance. As soon as they didn't need me or my psyche disentigrated under the pressure, I fell apart.
Being in academia is a trigger for this part of me, this struggle to find acceptance in a world that is never really accepting. Write a great paper? Good--write another one. Advance a bit more in your writing skills? Nice one--now why aren't you still progressing even farther? Going to help host a conference? Great--now make sure everything goes off without a hitch even though not everyone else will pull their own load (and don't forget that if THEY drop the ball, YOU get blamed). Academia has no time for those who aren't constantly striving to do something bigger, something better. After all, colleges get a lot of fame by what their professors do that no one else is doing. Now in a recessive economy, you have to be pulling overtime on overtime hours in order to get one of those coveted full-time positions. Unless you're famous, you are probably out of luck.
It's times like these when I feel my world wanting me to take care of everyone else's problems, accomodate everyone else's beliefs, without once considering what I need or what I believe (personal issues are dropped at your office door, remember?) that I wonder if God has answered the many requests to "get out of our schools." Without God's love, without true understanding and service, universities and colleges become homes for the unbalanced. The judgmental. The angry.
If there is one thing I wish for America's institutions of learning, from preschool to PhDs, it is the Christian balance. Where others are just as important as ourselves. Where God comes first. Where there is true kindness and responsibility and an effort to work together as a team. A family united by God.
So, to all of you out there in the world of academia, let's start a movement to put God back in our schools. Pray at your desk and before you teach each class. Think about what is best for your students' overall health (spiritual, emotional, mental, educational) when designing assignments and giving extensions. Promote an atmosphere where kindness and understanding are the core curriculum--we all know how ideas such as "manners" and "professionalism" have gone out the window these days. Most of all, make sure that you are spending just as much time on yourself as you do on others. It's not easy--I'm still working on it and fail most days. I promise you, though, on the days that you do achieve the balance, you'll feel the difference.
Then there's the other end of the spectrum. The woman who might as well tattoo "Welcome" on her forehead because her place in life is a doormat. Need to call someone at 2am every night? You've got her number. Need an extra $50 every now and then? She'll whip out that checkbook. Got a bunch of things on your to-do list that you don't really feel like doing? She'll give up sleep, family, and her own work in order to make your life easier. Her purpose in life is to please others at the cost of herself. Service is all she knows.
Christ commanded us to love one another as we love ourselves. Not less than. Not more than. We can't go around saying "To Hell with you" (even in the most inspiring of evangelical sermons). We also can't go around saying "yes" to every request. God wants us to put Him first. That means we should spend more time and effort drawing ourselves closer to Him than on the whims of humans.
On the balance scale of service, I definitely fall more under the doormat philosophy. So many times I look at my failures, my bad habits, my struggles with sin and forget just how precious I am in God's sight. To put it mildly, I'm no stranger to depression. It took me a nervous breakdown, a brief hospitalization, numerous medications that only masked the problem, and months of semi-effective therapy before I got to the root of the problem: I wasn't paying attention to what God had to say about me in His word. He loved me. He thought I was beautiful and precious. He had great plans for me. He forgave me. I just couldn't do that for myself. Finding my meaning, my purpose in life fell completely on What Can I Do For Others. Every time I did something for someone that they couldn't do, I swelled with self-importance. As soon as they didn't need me or my psyche disentigrated under the pressure, I fell apart.
Being in academia is a trigger for this part of me, this struggle to find acceptance in a world that is never really accepting. Write a great paper? Good--write another one. Advance a bit more in your writing skills? Nice one--now why aren't you still progressing even farther? Going to help host a conference? Great--now make sure everything goes off without a hitch even though not everyone else will pull their own load (and don't forget that if THEY drop the ball, YOU get blamed). Academia has no time for those who aren't constantly striving to do something bigger, something better. After all, colleges get a lot of fame by what their professors do that no one else is doing. Now in a recessive economy, you have to be pulling overtime on overtime hours in order to get one of those coveted full-time positions. Unless you're famous, you are probably out of luck.
It's times like these when I feel my world wanting me to take care of everyone else's problems, accomodate everyone else's beliefs, without once considering what I need or what I believe (personal issues are dropped at your office door, remember?) that I wonder if God has answered the many requests to "get out of our schools." Without God's love, without true understanding and service, universities and colleges become homes for the unbalanced. The judgmental. The angry.
If there is one thing I wish for America's institutions of learning, from preschool to PhDs, it is the Christian balance. Where others are just as important as ourselves. Where God comes first. Where there is true kindness and responsibility and an effort to work together as a team. A family united by God.
So, to all of you out there in the world of academia, let's start a movement to put God back in our schools. Pray at your desk and before you teach each class. Think about what is best for your students' overall health (spiritual, emotional, mental, educational) when designing assignments and giving extensions. Promote an atmosphere where kindness and understanding are the core curriculum--we all know how ideas such as "manners" and "professionalism" have gone out the window these days. Most of all, make sure that you are spending just as much time on yourself as you do on others. It's not easy--I'm still working on it and fail most days. I promise you, though, on the days that you do achieve the balance, you'll feel the difference.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
God can work through dreams
My father came into my bedroom yesterday morning, making sure I was up before he started some remodeling work on the house. Our conversation was a little...odd.
Dad: Hey, don't forget I need you to clean out your room so we can make room for the cribs.
Me: What cribs?
Dad: For the quintuplets.
Me Thinking: What quintuplets? Do I know anyone with quintuplets? Why are they staying here?
Me: (long pause) Who's the mother of these children?
Dad: Well, your mother, of course.
Me Thinking: Am I still asleep? Mom can't have kids anymore--there were just two of us. This makes no sense!
Me: (long pause--can't think of a thing to actually say)
Dad: (bursting into laughter) Oh, what a dream that was that I had!
Me: I was wondering if one of us was dreaming because communication with you is not usually this hard.
My dad went on with his story about how my mother had come back from her current trip in Illinois (visiting family) nine months pregnant with quintuplets--a mean feat as she's in her mid-fifties and had a hysterectomy almost ten years ago. I could go into what Freud would say about my father's dream and what it psychologically represents, but that's not the purpose of this blog (thank God for that, because that analysis would be terrifying to contemplate).
I regaled this story to a friend of mine over lunch, emphasizing the impossibility of this dream and how, due to my father's straight face, I had momentarily suspended belief in medical science.
"Well, did I ever tell you about how my baby brother was born? Mom and Dad decided they didn't want any more children, so she did everything she could to guarantee she wouldn't get pregnant. Her tubes were cut, stitched shut, and burned. The doctors thought she was going a little overkill, but she insisted on getting that 100% guarantee of being sterile for the rest of her mothering years. Well, a year later she got sick. Every morning. Lo and behold, she was pregnant. No one, including a team of doctors, could come up with a reason explaining how this was possible.
"That night they pulled me aside (I was about six) and told me I was going to have a baby brother or sister. 'I know,' I responded. My parents were confused and asked me to explain. 'I've been praying to God every night all year that He would give me a baby brother. He told me that I would get one and the next time Mommy and Daddy sat me down to talk to me, that's what you'd say--that my brother was coming.' Seven months later my mother gave birth to a beautiful little boy."
Combining the power of a child's faith and an Almighty God does make for a pretty solid opposition. God meant for there to be another child in that family no matter what measures her parents took to make sure it wouldn't happen. Prayer is such a powerful tool. It gave my friend the baby brother she wanted (at least at the time--they do grow up into teenagers eventually). It has helped me find the right words to say, confront people on problems that I didn't even know they had. It connects us to the One who always listens--there's no bad reception on the prayer lines.
When I think about just how often I pray, the results are disappointing. It's usually when I want something. A good grade. Wisdom to handle a difficult situation. Safe driving mercies during a storm. I don't pray nearly enough just to share my life with the One who gave me life. I don't pray enough to ask Him what He wants me to do. I don't pray enough just to praise Him for everything. It's such a simple act, and yet it falls to the bottom of my priority list far too often, saved mostly for when "I think about it." If I can talk to my mother without having to "think about it," then I should have no problems talking to my Heavenly Father who is up 24/7. That's something that definitely needs to change.
I remember a prayer I prayed not that long ago, one where I asked God to work His wonders in my family. I was, I believe, referring to helping family members struggling with finances and those of my relatives who are not saved. After my earthly father's dream last night, though, I hope that God didn't generously interpret my request and isn't planning to turn my bedroom into a nursery anytime soon. I think I'll start praying right now--specifically, this time.
Dad: Hey, don't forget I need you to clean out your room so we can make room for the cribs.
Me: What cribs?
Dad: For the quintuplets.
Me Thinking: What quintuplets? Do I know anyone with quintuplets? Why are they staying here?
Me: (long pause) Who's the mother of these children?
Dad: Well, your mother, of course.
Me Thinking: Am I still asleep? Mom can't have kids anymore--there were just two of us. This makes no sense!
Me: (long pause--can't think of a thing to actually say)
Dad: (bursting into laughter) Oh, what a dream that was that I had!
Me: I was wondering if one of us was dreaming because communication with you is not usually this hard.
My dad went on with his story about how my mother had come back from her current trip in Illinois (visiting family) nine months pregnant with quintuplets--a mean feat as she's in her mid-fifties and had a hysterectomy almost ten years ago. I could go into what Freud would say about my father's dream and what it psychologically represents, but that's not the purpose of this blog (thank God for that, because that analysis would be terrifying to contemplate).
I regaled this story to a friend of mine over lunch, emphasizing the impossibility of this dream and how, due to my father's straight face, I had momentarily suspended belief in medical science.
"Well, did I ever tell you about how my baby brother was born? Mom and Dad decided they didn't want any more children, so she did everything she could to guarantee she wouldn't get pregnant. Her tubes were cut, stitched shut, and burned. The doctors thought she was going a little overkill, but she insisted on getting that 100% guarantee of being sterile for the rest of her mothering years. Well, a year later she got sick. Every morning. Lo and behold, she was pregnant. No one, including a team of doctors, could come up with a reason explaining how this was possible.
"That night they pulled me aside (I was about six) and told me I was going to have a baby brother or sister. 'I know,' I responded. My parents were confused and asked me to explain. 'I've been praying to God every night all year that He would give me a baby brother. He told me that I would get one and the next time Mommy and Daddy sat me down to talk to me, that's what you'd say--that my brother was coming.' Seven months later my mother gave birth to a beautiful little boy."
Combining the power of a child's faith and an Almighty God does make for a pretty solid opposition. God meant for there to be another child in that family no matter what measures her parents took to make sure it wouldn't happen. Prayer is such a powerful tool. It gave my friend the baby brother she wanted (at least at the time--they do grow up into teenagers eventually). It has helped me find the right words to say, confront people on problems that I didn't even know they had. It connects us to the One who always listens--there's no bad reception on the prayer lines.
When I think about just how often I pray, the results are disappointing. It's usually when I want something. A good grade. Wisdom to handle a difficult situation. Safe driving mercies during a storm. I don't pray nearly enough just to share my life with the One who gave me life. I don't pray enough to ask Him what He wants me to do. I don't pray enough just to praise Him for everything. It's such a simple act, and yet it falls to the bottom of my priority list far too often, saved mostly for when "I think about it." If I can talk to my mother without having to "think about it," then I should have no problems talking to my Heavenly Father who is up 24/7. That's something that definitely needs to change.
I remember a prayer I prayed not that long ago, one where I asked God to work His wonders in my family. I was, I believe, referring to helping family members struggling with finances and those of my relatives who are not saved. After my earthly father's dream last night, though, I hope that God didn't generously interpret my request and isn't planning to turn my bedroom into a nursery anytime soon. I think I'll start praying right now--specifically, this time.
A Little Poetry
In an effort to improve my prose, I'm dabbling in poetry (why and how this works I'll tell you if you really want to know). Since I'm listening to some new instrumental Christian music, and the night is still(ish), it seems like a good time to share this with you:
Prayer
The ticks and tocks separate air into
Rhythm, pulses, pauses, rips
In the stillness that is never completely still.
How long has it been?
Fingers intertwine, interlace, intersect
Symbol of coming together
In the closet, behind closed doors
How long has it been?
Distraction
Redirection
Exhaustion
How long has it been?
Curled in the corner,
There's no place to go
Silence shatters around us
And we talk
Prayer
The ticks and tocks separate air into
Rhythm, pulses, pauses, rips
In the stillness that is never completely still.
How long has it been?
Fingers intertwine, interlace, intersect
Symbol of coming together
In the closet, behind closed doors
How long has it been?
Distraction
Redirection
Exhaustion
How long has it been?
Curled in the corner,
There's no place to go
Silence shatters around us
And we talk
Friday, March 27, 2009
Little Things Make a Big Difference
When I studied abroad in Mexico and got to go to the silver jewelry market, I had two goals: find simple silver bands for my thumbs, and get a very simple, small cross to wear around my neck. It took a few hours to sort through the elaborate crucifixes to find just the right small cross to wear, but I got it. I didn't plan for it to really do much for other people--lots of people today wear crosses but not for the same reason. I wanted to mark myself, for myself. I wanted a constant reminder of Who is my Father. I wanted to have a constant symbol to remind myself of just what Christ gave up for me--and what that should mean in my daily life. Needless to say, it works better some days than others.
While encouraging small groups in my computer-based classroom to discuss the topic for the day (religious freedom and gay marriage), I heard some trigger words in the corner. Namely "WRONG, YOU HEATHEN!" Granted, this was from the loud-mouth in class, the guy who didn't know how to not be sarcastic, so it wasn't too surprising. Still, I wandered over.
"So...what's going on here?"
My student looked eagerly at me. "She said that the Bible never explicitly says that homosexuality is wrong. I reminded her that her inexperience with proper texts is clearly showing." (Did I mention that he's a conservative Christian with all his smart-butt bravado?)
"Actually it does. Leviticus has the most specific mention of it, although there are a few others in both the Old and New Testaments."
After guiding the students to a website where they could search for the exact passage, I began walking away to another group. I wasn't fast enough to miss the next part of their conversation, though.
Girl: How'd she know that?
Boy: Well, duh, did you ever look at that cross she always wears?
I was surprised to say the least. My necklace is not typically that eye-catching and I've never had anyone ever mention it before. The symbol was a personal one although I didn't really mind if anyone noticed. The fact that my students, or at least some of them, had spotted the little cross and interpreted the meaning meant a lot to me. I try, per regulations, not to indoctrinate my personal beliefs in the classroom, letting the discussions go where they will even if I don't necessarily believe the same (such as when the liberal majority voted that anyone opposing gay marriage was a bigot). I try to keep an open mind, knowing that my job is to encourage critical thinking. I pray for my students and I hope I show Christ's life, but being a person of faith in a liberal institution is not easy. The lines are clearly drawn--any other faith, you have rights. Be Christian and you're mainstream. Old-fashioned. Out-dated. Prejudiced.
What had been primarily and exclusively a personal reminder of my faith and my dedication to working on my relationship with God had become an issue in my classroom. Perhaps my students do monitor some of the things they say because of that little silver charm. Then again, we talked about pornography and its effects on society without me blushing once, so who knows. :)
For me, it's more than a necklace. Now it's a witnessing tool, a little clue in a Scooby-Doo world as to why I act the way I do. Amazing what $7 worth of pure silver can do for eternity. :)
While encouraging small groups in my computer-based classroom to discuss the topic for the day (religious freedom and gay marriage), I heard some trigger words in the corner. Namely "WRONG, YOU HEATHEN!" Granted, this was from the loud-mouth in class, the guy who didn't know how to not be sarcastic, so it wasn't too surprising. Still, I wandered over.
"So...what's going on here?"
My student looked eagerly at me. "She said that the Bible never explicitly says that homosexuality is wrong. I reminded her that her inexperience with proper texts is clearly showing." (Did I mention that he's a conservative Christian with all his smart-butt bravado?)
"Actually it does. Leviticus has the most specific mention of it, although there are a few others in both the Old and New Testaments."
After guiding the students to a website where they could search for the exact passage, I began walking away to another group. I wasn't fast enough to miss the next part of their conversation, though.
Girl: How'd she know that?
Boy: Well, duh, did you ever look at that cross she always wears?
I was surprised to say the least. My necklace is not typically that eye-catching and I've never had anyone ever mention it before. The symbol was a personal one although I didn't really mind if anyone noticed. The fact that my students, or at least some of them, had spotted the little cross and interpreted the meaning meant a lot to me. I try, per regulations, not to indoctrinate my personal beliefs in the classroom, letting the discussions go where they will even if I don't necessarily believe the same (such as when the liberal majority voted that anyone opposing gay marriage was a bigot). I try to keep an open mind, knowing that my job is to encourage critical thinking. I pray for my students and I hope I show Christ's life, but being a person of faith in a liberal institution is not easy. The lines are clearly drawn--any other faith, you have rights. Be Christian and you're mainstream. Old-fashioned. Out-dated. Prejudiced.
What had been primarily and exclusively a personal reminder of my faith and my dedication to working on my relationship with God had become an issue in my classroom. Perhaps my students do monitor some of the things they say because of that little silver charm. Then again, we talked about pornography and its effects on society without me blushing once, so who knows. :)
For me, it's more than a necklace. Now it's a witnessing tool, a little clue in a Scooby-Doo world as to why I act the way I do. Amazing what $7 worth of pure silver can do for eternity. :)
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Taking a Literary Risk
I’m embarking on something that many would call extremely foolish. I’m bringing God into my creative thesis.
My thesis advisor is a nice enough woman. She’s very smart and a good editor of writing (although she drives me nuts more often than not). She’s also a lesbian, staunch liberal, and while I’ve never asked her specifically, appears to be atheist or agnostic. Except for her sexual preference, she’s about the same as the vast majority of professors on this campus.
I was warned that including an essay very near to my heart, dealing with Christian female relationships torn apart when one marries, in my thesis was a bad idea to begin with, let alone in a thesis directed by my advisor. “She’ll tear you to pieces over all that Christian stuff. Religious beliefs signify no critical thinking skills to her, and that’s the last thing you want written on your project evaluation.” If future employers want to see my thesis as part of the selection process, having a religion-themed essay that doesn’t criticize religion can keep me out of a lot of schools. I used to say that I wouldn’t want to work at those schools, anyway. Now with the economy and my chances of finding full-time employment as a college professor diminishing, I can’t afford to be too choosy.
My advisor handled the essay fairly well, probably because the fact that the characters being Christian is a secondary focus—the real attention is on what effect marriage has on a friendship. I was surprised that my advisor let it go as much as she did and credited God with the mercy of not having to deal with that discussion during such a stressful time. My next choice to bring God in may undo that merciful no-comment decision.
While they’re not mandatory, it is traditional that thesis writers include an acknowledgements page. Your first people to thank are always your committee members and your advisor. That’s just common sense—they did the most work, so they get first dibs on the hierarchy. In my draft, however, my committee members are upstaged by a more important influence in my life.
Here’s the text:
First and foremost, to my God, without whom I would be nothing—thank You for your blessings, guidance, and Your constant presence. May You work through me every day for the rest of my life.
To my thesis committee, who had to deal with the wild rantings of an overstressed woman,
To my father, who had to sacrifice watching TV in the living room for months so I could work in peace,
To my mother, who listened to me although she had no clue what I was talking about,
To my sister, who reminded me that this is why she never went to college,
To my grandmother and aunt, who prayed for the completion of this more than I’ll ever know,
To my many beloved friends, who gave me space and distracted me in turn,
To my Radar, who let me wake him constantly for reaffirmation without demanding tuna in return,
I thank you all.
A classmate read this while proofreading my thesis. “Ok, the cat thing is cute at the end, but the God thing is going to get you in big trouble. You’re at a public liberal arts university, not a private Bible college.” Amazing that thanking a cat who doesn’t even appear in any of the essays is allowed but I can’t thank my own Creator, the One who is behind everything I am capable of doing.
It would be simple enough to just delete the two sentences. It’d make people happy. The thing is, this is my thesis. I’m supposed to be happy with this huge piece of work. I can’t do that without being honest—that although my faith may not be as strong as I want it to be, I do believe what that note says.
If we are to “give God the glory,” we can’t pick and choose what accomplishments are politically correct to credit to Him.
My thesis advisor is a nice enough woman. She’s very smart and a good editor of writing (although she drives me nuts more often than not). She’s also a lesbian, staunch liberal, and while I’ve never asked her specifically, appears to be atheist or agnostic. Except for her sexual preference, she’s about the same as the vast majority of professors on this campus.
I was warned that including an essay very near to my heart, dealing with Christian female relationships torn apart when one marries, in my thesis was a bad idea to begin with, let alone in a thesis directed by my advisor. “She’ll tear you to pieces over all that Christian stuff. Religious beliefs signify no critical thinking skills to her, and that’s the last thing you want written on your project evaluation.” If future employers want to see my thesis as part of the selection process, having a religion-themed essay that doesn’t criticize religion can keep me out of a lot of schools. I used to say that I wouldn’t want to work at those schools, anyway. Now with the economy and my chances of finding full-time employment as a college professor diminishing, I can’t afford to be too choosy.
My advisor handled the essay fairly well, probably because the fact that the characters being Christian is a secondary focus—the real attention is on what effect marriage has on a friendship. I was surprised that my advisor let it go as much as she did and credited God with the mercy of not having to deal with that discussion during such a stressful time. My next choice to bring God in may undo that merciful no-comment decision.
While they’re not mandatory, it is traditional that thesis writers include an acknowledgements page. Your first people to thank are always your committee members and your advisor. That’s just common sense—they did the most work, so they get first dibs on the hierarchy. In my draft, however, my committee members are upstaged by a more important influence in my life.
Here’s the text:
First and foremost, to my God, without whom I would be nothing—thank You for your blessings, guidance, and Your constant presence. May You work through me every day for the rest of my life.
To my thesis committee, who had to deal with the wild rantings of an overstressed woman,
To my father, who had to sacrifice watching TV in the living room for months so I could work in peace,
To my mother, who listened to me although she had no clue what I was talking about,
To my sister, who reminded me that this is why she never went to college,
To my grandmother and aunt, who prayed for the completion of this more than I’ll ever know,
To my many beloved friends, who gave me space and distracted me in turn,
To my Radar, who let me wake him constantly for reaffirmation without demanding tuna in return,
I thank you all.
A classmate read this while proofreading my thesis. “Ok, the cat thing is cute at the end, but the God thing is going to get you in big trouble. You’re at a public liberal arts university, not a private Bible college.” Amazing that thanking a cat who doesn’t even appear in any of the essays is allowed but I can’t thank my own Creator, the One who is behind everything I am capable of doing.
It would be simple enough to just delete the two sentences. It’d make people happy. The thing is, this is my thesis. I’m supposed to be happy with this huge piece of work. I can’t do that without being honest—that although my faith may not be as strong as I want it to be, I do believe what that note says.
If we are to “give God the glory,” we can’t pick and choose what accomplishments are politically correct to credit to Him.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Will they remember you as being Known?
Attending a liberal arts college is a great way to get a well-rounded education where critical thinking is at the top of the list as far as “skills learned.” It’s also a good way to get talked out of your faith.
While taking a writing workshop class, a student brought in a fiction piece based on the question, “What if God was fallible?” The result was something like Gomer Pyle with superpowers—the first few times God put planets into motion, the alignment wasn’t quite right and there were a few collisions. It was a fairly humorous piece, especially when I knew the guy writing it was being sarcastic the whole time (granted, he’s an atheist, but he wasn’t trying to diss Christians per se). I walked into the class thinking that this was just going to be another discussion on character development, plot structuring, and transitions. I was wrong. I was surrounded by people who were all too happy to criticize the incredible stupidity of Christians for believing something that cannot be proven, seconded by our tendency to “purposefully ignore holes in the Bible.” I protested. This wasn’t a religion and philosophy class. The purpose of this course was to talk about writing, not bash belief systems. My classmates were only too eager to remind me that the Bible was “writing,” and informed me on just a few of the nuances where the Bible contradicted itself or caused us to be hypocrites. While this discussion included many examples, the one everyone liked the best was a quote out of the Old Testament. Although they didn’t know the verse citation, it wasn’t hard to find.
Genesis 8:1 “And God remembered Noah…”
Just these four words had clinched the argument that our God was fallible despite our and the Bible’s claims to the contrary. After all, if you are remembering something, you must have forgotten it at one point. They claimed that other versions of the Bible translated this as “And God forgot Noah,” literally proving their point.
What these graduate students, after years of studying literary theory, linguistics, and foreign languages, had conveniently forgotten was that language was never and can never be taken 100% literally. Think about the last time you told someone “go jump in a lake” or “that tickles me.” You don’t actually want the person to go swimming or mean that some idea reached out with invisible fingers and wiggled them against your ribs. So much of language (it varies by the individual language) is figurative, composed of idioms, metaphors, and slang expressions. We have been schooled in this for years. When you study foreign languages, you have to remember that not everything translates perfectly. I am sure that there were constructions of the original Greek and Hebrew that meant something very different during Biblical times than they do now. Think of the word “gay”—sixty years ago it meant “happy; joyful.” Not the immediate connotation we have now, is it?
The Bible isn’t saying that God forgot Noah—God is just giving His full attention to Noah. He’s focusing in on a particular person (and since there were only seven other people alive on Earth at that time, admittedly it’s not that hard of a task even for humans). When you think about it, it’s not just a symptom of language changing. It’s also in how we use the word “remember” in the English language. I can remember what a strawberry tastes like—that doesn’t mean that I ever forgot; it’s just that I haven’t thought about it lately for a multitude of reasons. God remembering us is just putting us in direct focus—and since He’s omnipresent and omnipotent, we’re always on His mind. Was this verse, then, just stating the obvious? Perhaps. I’m no Biblical language expert. The phrase is also a great transition, and let’s face it—the craft of writing is pretty darn fabulous in that old text.
In that moment in that classroom, I could have prayed for the right words to say (I’m assuming they would have been around these lines) and corrected the misconception. It was clear, though, that my audience wasn’t receptive to any contrary ideas. I chickened out. To keep the peace, and keep myself from being ostracized any more than I already was, I bit my lip and let my inner self cry and cringe throughout the blasphemous discussion. It was an understandable and even logical decision. I missed a valuable opportunity in order to save my Earthly reputation. In hindsight, it was a very human response and not something I’m proud of.
I know there are a lot of people out there like me. We are afraid of losing the few “friends” that we have. We want to be accepted and liked in our workplace. We want to keep our jobs. We want to be included. The question for us is damning: at what cost? I probably wouldn’t have won any souls that night, but I might have planted a seed. In the long run, what matters is our Heavenly business, not if we got invited to this party or had an extra friend request on Facebook.
It’s part of my challenge to start being Known. I want to be Known as the Christian who is strong in her faith. I want to be Known as a woman who puts God first. I want to be Known as someone who isn’t afraid to stand up and say, “Yeah, I’m a well-educated person who fully relies on and believes in God. Want to talk about it?” It’s not going to be easy—Satan knows that needing social validation is a huge struggle for me. My prayer for today is that God would help me to remember that the only validation I need is from Him, and I have that already from the day I first was saved.
So…are you Known?
While taking a writing workshop class, a student brought in a fiction piece based on the question, “What if God was fallible?” The result was something like Gomer Pyle with superpowers—the first few times God put planets into motion, the alignment wasn’t quite right and there were a few collisions. It was a fairly humorous piece, especially when I knew the guy writing it was being sarcastic the whole time (granted, he’s an atheist, but he wasn’t trying to diss Christians per se). I walked into the class thinking that this was just going to be another discussion on character development, plot structuring, and transitions. I was wrong. I was surrounded by people who were all too happy to criticize the incredible stupidity of Christians for believing something that cannot be proven, seconded by our tendency to “purposefully ignore holes in the Bible.” I protested. This wasn’t a religion and philosophy class. The purpose of this course was to talk about writing, not bash belief systems. My classmates were only too eager to remind me that the Bible was “writing,” and informed me on just a few of the nuances where the Bible contradicted itself or caused us to be hypocrites. While this discussion included many examples, the one everyone liked the best was a quote out of the Old Testament. Although they didn’t know the verse citation, it wasn’t hard to find.
Genesis 8:1 “And God remembered Noah…”
Just these four words had clinched the argument that our God was fallible despite our and the Bible’s claims to the contrary. After all, if you are remembering something, you must have forgotten it at one point. They claimed that other versions of the Bible translated this as “And God forgot Noah,” literally proving their point.
What these graduate students, after years of studying literary theory, linguistics, and foreign languages, had conveniently forgotten was that language was never and can never be taken 100% literally. Think about the last time you told someone “go jump in a lake” or “that tickles me.” You don’t actually want the person to go swimming or mean that some idea reached out with invisible fingers and wiggled them against your ribs. So much of language (it varies by the individual language) is figurative, composed of idioms, metaphors, and slang expressions. We have been schooled in this for years. When you study foreign languages, you have to remember that not everything translates perfectly. I am sure that there were constructions of the original Greek and Hebrew that meant something very different during Biblical times than they do now. Think of the word “gay”—sixty years ago it meant “happy; joyful.” Not the immediate connotation we have now, is it?
The Bible isn’t saying that God forgot Noah—God is just giving His full attention to Noah. He’s focusing in on a particular person (and since there were only seven other people alive on Earth at that time, admittedly it’s not that hard of a task even for humans). When you think about it, it’s not just a symptom of language changing. It’s also in how we use the word “remember” in the English language. I can remember what a strawberry tastes like—that doesn’t mean that I ever forgot; it’s just that I haven’t thought about it lately for a multitude of reasons. God remembering us is just putting us in direct focus—and since He’s omnipresent and omnipotent, we’re always on His mind. Was this verse, then, just stating the obvious? Perhaps. I’m no Biblical language expert. The phrase is also a great transition, and let’s face it—the craft of writing is pretty darn fabulous in that old text.
In that moment in that classroom, I could have prayed for the right words to say (I’m assuming they would have been around these lines) and corrected the misconception. It was clear, though, that my audience wasn’t receptive to any contrary ideas. I chickened out. To keep the peace, and keep myself from being ostracized any more than I already was, I bit my lip and let my inner self cry and cringe throughout the blasphemous discussion. It was an understandable and even logical decision. I missed a valuable opportunity in order to save my Earthly reputation. In hindsight, it was a very human response and not something I’m proud of.
I know there are a lot of people out there like me. We are afraid of losing the few “friends” that we have. We want to be accepted and liked in our workplace. We want to keep our jobs. We want to be included. The question for us is damning: at what cost? I probably wouldn’t have won any souls that night, but I might have planted a seed. In the long run, what matters is our Heavenly business, not if we got invited to this party or had an extra friend request on Facebook.
It’s part of my challenge to start being Known. I want to be Known as the Christian who is strong in her faith. I want to be Known as a woman who puts God first. I want to be Known as someone who isn’t afraid to stand up and say, “Yeah, I’m a well-educated person who fully relies on and believes in God. Want to talk about it?” It’s not going to be easy—Satan knows that needing social validation is a huge struggle for me. My prayer for today is that God would help me to remember that the only validation I need is from Him, and I have that already from the day I first was saved.
So…are you Known?
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Reality Bytes
It's nearing midnight on a weeknight. You are:
a) Fast asleep in your cozy bed.
b) Watching old TV-on-DVD from your recliner
c) Frantically trying to finish the last stack of papers to be graded
d) Playing computer games that were meant for people at least twenty years younger than you are.
On the average night, I could be doing any of those, choice a) being the least likely. I'm a night owl--some of my best work is done between 7pm and 2am. Maybe that's why I like the overnight shifts at my second job so much...but that's another story for another time.
If you've ever channel surfed through what's available on cable or the satellite, without having certain channels blocked, you're likely to come across some sort of reality program at this time. MTV has a lot of them, none of them worth watching. I was forced to endure the first season of Rock of Love with Brett Michaels at work last year--that was fairly torturous. Granted, it's not the type of show I should be watching. Garbage in, garbage out, so they say. This isn't to say that all reality programming is trash. I enjoy a good episode of Deadliest Catch or Mythbusters--at least they're somewhat educational.
With so much attention focused on putting what is interpreted as "real" on the screen which is used primarily as an escape from what is real, reality television makes a lot of sense. We don't like reality. Life is hard. Reality television can't be real if it is to be popular. We absorb the lives of scripted characters, edited achievements, and sensationalized news stories to keep us from really looking at who we are, why we are the way we are, and what that means. It's about critical thinking. America doesn't do that well.
I fully admit that I am one of those who doesn't always like my reality. I don't like how America is evolving under the leadership of our new president (although I haven't given up hope). I don't like getting turned down for jobs. I don't like the struggle to find a place in a world that just will not accept that I look to a higher power for answers. And so I escape into the constructed worlds of novels, my own fiction stories, and multitudes of movies/television shows that I enjoy. Things have happy endings. I can control my destiny. There are no surprises unless the DVD skips or my cat decides that the pages smell a little too much like catnip to be avoided any longer.
This isn't the kind of life that God wants for me. He didn't put me on this earth to hide in a corner, living in my imagination until my life is over or the Rapture occurs. He wants me to make a difference, get dirty, and do some good work for Him. I tend to be slightly lazy and get frustrated fairly easily (depending on what's going on, of course). Until I harness my human faults, I can't be the child who truly honors her Father.
This is my first step. It's writing on the computer, which satisfies a lot of my humanness, but it's honest. No hiding. It's about living for God in a world which I am not of. We are reminded of this multiple times in the scriptures--we may be on Earth, living in a place of sin, but now that we are saved, we are not of this Earth anymore. We are of God. It's about time that we start reflecting that in our reality.
I challenge you and myself to start making our reality, with all the terrible influences of Satan that there are, more like God. Maybe it's about being kind when we don't want to be. Maybe it's giving more than we usually do. Maybe it's about not being afraid to tell those who have "Earthly power" over our Earthly existence (remember God is in control even though our human boss's name isn't Jehovah) the truth about who is our Father. To paraphrase an old children's church song, stop hiding our light under the bushel and let our light shine.
a) Fast asleep in your cozy bed.
b) Watching old TV-on-DVD from your recliner
c) Frantically trying to finish the last stack of papers to be graded
d) Playing computer games that were meant for people at least twenty years younger than you are.
On the average night, I could be doing any of those, choice a) being the least likely. I'm a night owl--some of my best work is done between 7pm and 2am. Maybe that's why I like the overnight shifts at my second job so much...but that's another story for another time.
If you've ever channel surfed through what's available on cable or the satellite, without having certain channels blocked, you're likely to come across some sort of reality program at this time. MTV has a lot of them, none of them worth watching. I was forced to endure the first season of Rock of Love with Brett Michaels at work last year--that was fairly torturous. Granted, it's not the type of show I should be watching. Garbage in, garbage out, so they say. This isn't to say that all reality programming is trash. I enjoy a good episode of Deadliest Catch or Mythbusters--at least they're somewhat educational.
With so much attention focused on putting what is interpreted as "real" on the screen which is used primarily as an escape from what is real, reality television makes a lot of sense. We don't like reality. Life is hard. Reality television can't be real if it is to be popular. We absorb the lives of scripted characters, edited achievements, and sensationalized news stories to keep us from really looking at who we are, why we are the way we are, and what that means. It's about critical thinking. America doesn't do that well.
I fully admit that I am one of those who doesn't always like my reality. I don't like how America is evolving under the leadership of our new president (although I haven't given up hope). I don't like getting turned down for jobs. I don't like the struggle to find a place in a world that just will not accept that I look to a higher power for answers. And so I escape into the constructed worlds of novels, my own fiction stories, and multitudes of movies/television shows that I enjoy. Things have happy endings. I can control my destiny. There are no surprises unless the DVD skips or my cat decides that the pages smell a little too much like catnip to be avoided any longer.
This isn't the kind of life that God wants for me. He didn't put me on this earth to hide in a corner, living in my imagination until my life is over or the Rapture occurs. He wants me to make a difference, get dirty, and do some good work for Him. I tend to be slightly lazy and get frustrated fairly easily (depending on what's going on, of course). Until I harness my human faults, I can't be the child who truly honors her Father.
This is my first step. It's writing on the computer, which satisfies a lot of my humanness, but it's honest. No hiding. It's about living for God in a world which I am not of. We are reminded of this multiple times in the scriptures--we may be on Earth, living in a place of sin, but now that we are saved, we are not of this Earth anymore. We are of God. It's about time that we start reflecting that in our reality.
I challenge you and myself to start making our reality, with all the terrible influences of Satan that there are, more like God. Maybe it's about being kind when we don't want to be. Maybe it's giving more than we usually do. Maybe it's about not being afraid to tell those who have "Earthly power" over our Earthly existence (remember God is in control even though our human boss's name isn't Jehovah) the truth about who is our Father. To paraphrase an old children's church song, stop hiding our light under the bushel and let our light shine.
Where I have not gone before...
I've never written a blog like this. Sure, I had my myspace page once upon a time, and that was full of...interesting thoughts. That obviously had to be shut down when I started teaching as a graduate student in a small university--there are some things that teachers just shouldn't advertise.
I shouldn't be writing this blog at this time. I'm finishing my master's degree in English in a matter of weeks, my thesis is due this weekend, and with everything else going on in my world, another distraction (besides watching old episodes of "Emergency!" on Netflix) is the very last thing I need. Somehow I feel led to this, like God has been waiting for me to take this step. That or I'm trying to justify procrastination. Both are good.
**
My name on here is Criada. For those of you not fluent in Spanish (like I used to be...now I just have fun with the waiters at the local Mexican restaurants), it means "servant." While I'm no expert on spiritual gifts, I know that God created me to serve others. I love to teach. I love to be needed. I am often the person who, although she takes on too much, will almost always say "yes" to any request. I volunteer. I guide. To other Christians, I'm being loving. To the world, I'm a doormat.
I want to use this blog to focus myself on God, using the ability to write (well) that He blessed me with. I want to explore this world and my faith with others. I want to encourage other men and women out there (although I will admit that many future blogs will undoubtedly be female-focused--guys, you can consider it a window into the mysteries of our gender). I want to make sense of the battle inside and outside of me as my educational goals complement and conflict with my faith. I want to make a difference. Maybe, just maybe, this is my chance to do something that will truly last.
Feel free to comment, question, and/or anything else. May we all be blessed by this.
Criada
I shouldn't be writing this blog at this time. I'm finishing my master's degree in English in a matter of weeks, my thesis is due this weekend, and with everything else going on in my world, another distraction (besides watching old episodes of "Emergency!" on Netflix) is the very last thing I need. Somehow I feel led to this, like God has been waiting for me to take this step. That or I'm trying to justify procrastination. Both are good.
**
My name on here is Criada. For those of you not fluent in Spanish (like I used to be...now I just have fun with the waiters at the local Mexican restaurants), it means "servant." While I'm no expert on spiritual gifts, I know that God created me to serve others. I love to teach. I love to be needed. I am often the person who, although she takes on too much, will almost always say "yes" to any request. I volunteer. I guide. To other Christians, I'm being loving. To the world, I'm a doormat.
I want to use this blog to focus myself on God, using the ability to write (well) that He blessed me with. I want to explore this world and my faith with others. I want to encourage other men and women out there (although I will admit that many future blogs will undoubtedly be female-focused--guys, you can consider it a window into the mysteries of our gender). I want to make sense of the battle inside and outside of me as my educational goals complement and conflict with my faith. I want to make a difference. Maybe, just maybe, this is my chance to do something that will truly last.
Feel free to comment, question, and/or anything else. May we all be blessed by this.
Criada
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