37As he was drawing near—already on the way down the Mount of Olives—the whole multitude of his disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen, 38saying, "Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!" 39And some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, "Teacher, rebuke your disciples." 40He answered, "I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out."
from Luke's account of the gospel, chapter 19 (ESV)
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Enough
Over the past few weeks, words like 'enough,' 'sufficient,' and 'abundance' have been on my heart. I have been challenged by God's 'more than' character.
I think it started with a sermon several weeks ago about forgiveness, I think. I don't remember the sermon topic, but I do remember the comparison Pastor Ryan made between the love we can offer and the love that Christ offers us. We seek to be loved. We seek to be loved completely, in a way that does not hide or shudder or turn when we are not perfect. Our relationships with other humans cannot provide that, even within marriage. But Christ does. Our love has limits. His does not. With him, "there is no variation or shadow of turning." (James 1:17, NKJV).
In 2 Kings, chapter 4, there is a story of how God multiplied a widow's jar of olive oil to pay her husband's debt that, being unmet, would have meant that her two sons would be sold as slaves as payment. It is an awesome story, and if you haven't read it, I suggest doing so. Here, in this story, I was challenged to trust fully in God's provision. I had been anxious about money for a while, and anxious about a lot of other things though I wasn't sure exactly why. This is our God, the story in 2 Kings spoke. The God who gives abundantly and in love and care.
I decided to trust him, and I gave my concerns to him, especially concerning my trip to Russia (57 days!!) in regards to ability and resources. And yet again, he has proven faithful. I have been awed several times since November at the way God has chosen to show his care for me. But that doesn't mean I was any less shocked when someone from my church told me that they had collected $1928 for my trip. And that was up from $754 that weekend. Which means that I am now 95% funded--without any sign of slowing down. The oil did not stop pouring until no more jars had been collected. I am so blessed. So blessed. I felt (and still feel) saturated.
He also continues to speak to me this Holy Week, through scripture, through prayer vigils, through shadow services. He himself is enough. Amen.
I think it started with a sermon several weeks ago about forgiveness, I think. I don't remember the sermon topic, but I do remember the comparison Pastor Ryan made between the love we can offer and the love that Christ offers us. We seek to be loved. We seek to be loved completely, in a way that does not hide or shudder or turn when we are not perfect. Our relationships with other humans cannot provide that, even within marriage. But Christ does. Our love has limits. His does not. With him, "there is no variation or shadow of turning." (James 1:17, NKJV).
In 2 Kings, chapter 4, there is a story of how God multiplied a widow's jar of olive oil to pay her husband's debt that, being unmet, would have meant that her two sons would be sold as slaves as payment. It is an awesome story, and if you haven't read it, I suggest doing so. Here, in this story, I was challenged to trust fully in God's provision. I had been anxious about money for a while, and anxious about a lot of other things though I wasn't sure exactly why. This is our God, the story in 2 Kings spoke. The God who gives abundantly and in love and care.
I decided to trust him, and I gave my concerns to him, especially concerning my trip to Russia (57 days!!) in regards to ability and resources. And yet again, he has proven faithful. I have been awed several times since November at the way God has chosen to show his care for me. But that doesn't mean I was any less shocked when someone from my church told me that they had collected $1928 for my trip. And that was up from $754 that weekend. Which means that I am now 95% funded--without any sign of slowing down. The oil did not stop pouring until no more jars had been collected. I am so blessed. So blessed. I felt (and still feel) saturated.
He also continues to speak to me this Holy Week, through scripture, through prayer vigils, through shadow services. He himself is enough. Amen.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Word of God, speak
As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, "Follow me." And he rose and followed him.
And as Jesus reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples. And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, " Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" But when he heard it, he said, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, 'I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.' For I come not to call the righteous, but sinners." (Matthew 9:9-13, ESV)
This evokes questions for me, challenges me. It feels like a cup of desert coffee. Strong, bold, but warm and satisfying. What questions, thoughts, feelings do these words elicit for you?
And as Jesus reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples. And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, " Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" But when he heard it, he said, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, 'I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.' For I come not to call the righteous, but sinners." (Matthew 9:9-13, ESV)
This evokes questions for me, challenges me. It feels like a cup of desert coffee. Strong, bold, but warm and satisfying. What questions, thoughts, feelings do these words elicit for you?
Thursday, February 03, 2011
The Incarnation: An Experience in Childhood and Play-doh
As I sit with the challenges I find in my hands and press in to the heart of God, I discover not that I am too weak, but that I am too strong.
The problem with letting the Spirit search your thoughts (Ps 139:23) is precisely that you have to let the Spirit search your thoughts. You don't do the searching, and present what you find to God and ask him what he thinks. You don't do the offering. You have to let down your crossed swords to give him passage. It's understanding that what the Spirit finds only the Spirit can heal. You have to put down your tools, your chisels, your hammers, your chainsaws. He doesn't pull out scorpions for you to whack with your mallet. How hard it is for me to put down my weapons. How hard is it for me to offer my body as a living sacrifice (Rom 12:1). Not just my resources, not just my alliegiance, but my body—every single part of me. Every breath, every intention, every sin, every fear and weakness. You can’t crawl onto the altar and leave your arm behind.
Incarnation seems like this wonderful, Jesus-movement word; the new-old buzz word in living a Christian life: Be Jesus! Live like he lived! Sounds pretty good, right? Problem: As Ligenfelter points out in the first chapter of "Ministering Cross-Culturally," Jesus was born into our world as a child. Jesus did not pop out of Mary's womb with all knowledge and power. Jesus had to learn at the knees of Mary and Joseph and the rest of his community how to grow into a child, and eventually into a Jewish man. Jesus, the Son of God, was dependent upon those in his community to raise him. I don't know if I'm humble enough to admit that I don't know things. I've never hidden behind the "everything's fine in my life" mask, but I have always hidden behind the "I don't need your help" mask. My life is hard, but I can handle it. And see, look. My grades and even my driving record prove it! I don't need your help. But living in another country in another culture will require admitting that I not only don't know their language or currency, but that I don't understand their customs, I don't know how to be accepted into their circles, I don't know how to act in their everyday situations. I will have to allow myself to be taught these basic things.
The incarnation requires me to live without walls. There are no walls between me and those I come to serve. Jesus sends out his seventy disciples in Luke 10 without any means of their own protection or provision, intentionally leaving them dependent upon the hospitality of the towns to which they are sent. In this way, relationships and trust can be built. But it also takes away a sense of protection, safety, and security. God has been showing this to me in many ways through small group studies at church, in my conversations with him, but also through our bible studies with my IV students. Gardening, harvesting, all of these keep popping up in our listening times, in our scriptures. Gardening requires getting on your knees, in the dirt, and getting dirty. And every portion of time I spend with my students, I am challenged to stay in the dirt. Incarnation does not allow for retreat into bubbles of safety, cleanliness, superiority. Incarnation is not safe. It is vulnerable, it is dirty, it is anything but enviable.
Everything about the incarnation challenges how I live my life. And I am bridling at that, bristling at the ambiguity and the vulnerability that I am being called to live into. This is living in surrender, laying aside everything of self in exchange for the joys and pleasures of the Most High (Ps 16:11).
The problem with letting the Spirit search your thoughts (Ps 139:23) is precisely that you have to let the Spirit search your thoughts. You don't do the searching, and present what you find to God and ask him what he thinks. You don't do the offering. You have to let down your crossed swords to give him passage. It's understanding that what the Spirit finds only the Spirit can heal. You have to put down your tools, your chisels, your hammers, your chainsaws. He doesn't pull out scorpions for you to whack with your mallet. How hard it is for me to put down my weapons. How hard is it for me to offer my body as a living sacrifice (Rom 12:1). Not just my resources, not just my alliegiance, but my body—every single part of me. Every breath, every intention, every sin, every fear and weakness. You can’t crawl onto the altar and leave your arm behind.
Incarnation seems like this wonderful, Jesus-movement word; the new-old buzz word in living a Christian life: Be Jesus! Live like he lived! Sounds pretty good, right? Problem: As Ligenfelter points out in the first chapter of "Ministering Cross-Culturally," Jesus was born into our world as a child. Jesus did not pop out of Mary's womb with all knowledge and power. Jesus had to learn at the knees of Mary and Joseph and the rest of his community how to grow into a child, and eventually into a Jewish man. Jesus, the Son of God, was dependent upon those in his community to raise him. I don't know if I'm humble enough to admit that I don't know things. I've never hidden behind the "everything's fine in my life" mask, but I have always hidden behind the "I don't need your help" mask. My life is hard, but I can handle it. And see, look. My grades and even my driving record prove it! I don't need your help. But living in another country in another culture will require admitting that I not only don't know their language or currency, but that I don't understand their customs, I don't know how to be accepted into their circles, I don't know how to act in their everyday situations. I will have to allow myself to be taught these basic things.
The incarnation requires me to live without walls. There are no walls between me and those I come to serve. Jesus sends out his seventy disciples in Luke 10 without any means of their own protection or provision, intentionally leaving them dependent upon the hospitality of the towns to which they are sent. In this way, relationships and trust can be built. But it also takes away a sense of protection, safety, and security. God has been showing this to me in many ways through small group studies at church, in my conversations with him, but also through our bible studies with my IV students. Gardening, harvesting, all of these keep popping up in our listening times, in our scriptures. Gardening requires getting on your knees, in the dirt, and getting dirty. And every portion of time I spend with my students, I am challenged to stay in the dirt. Incarnation does not allow for retreat into bubbles of safety, cleanliness, superiority. Incarnation is not safe. It is vulnerable, it is dirty, it is anything but enviable.
Everything about the incarnation challenges how I live my life. And I am bridling at that, bristling at the ambiguity and the vulnerability that I am being called to live into. This is living in surrender, laying aside everything of self in exchange for the joys and pleasures of the Most High (Ps 16:11).
Saturday, January 08, 2011
Mary did you know?
Written December 23rd, 2010
In this holiday season, it is no surprise that our attentions are consumed with thoughts of ourselves. What gifts are we going to get this year? How am I ever going to find the right gift for my aunt so that she doesn't think less of me? As Christians, we don't really like those thoughts, because we know that it's not about the gifts, that "the reason for the season" is Jesus. And we might take action steps to de-materialize Christmas. Thank God.
But I wonder if we still have not eradicated our consumerism, even if in our actions and words we acknowledge Jesus. The question that I run into is, How can I celebrate, really celebrate Jesus, when I feel that I am alone this season? How can I understand his gift when I have no one to show it to me that makes it more than words I'm insisting on and maybe some lip service at grace? What does Jesus mean to *me* this holiday season?
But looking at Luke this morning, the sheer amount of praise to the Lord woven into the story stuck out to me. Because the truth of the matter, is that this story is not about Christianity. This story is not about us. This story is not about us. The story is about God. This is his story, and it is the fact that he was faithful in his promises that spurs praise. Mary and Elizabeth didn't know that Jesus would change the world. They didn't know that there would be wars fought over and for his name. They praised because God had shown his mercy and his faithfulness. The God that they had heard had liberated their people from slavery some thousand years prior had come again, just as he promised. They themselves, even before his birth, were receiving the gift of God: his grace, faithfulness, and mercy.
The Christmas season about God's story, and we celebrate that he has chosen to involve us in his story, his beautiful story of redemption. We don't celebrate how perfect he's made our lives (which he hasn't), but that he is faithful and is making all things new.
In this holiday season, it is no surprise that our attentions are consumed with thoughts of ourselves. What gifts are we going to get this year? How am I ever going to find the right gift for my aunt so that she doesn't think less of me? As Christians, we don't really like those thoughts, because we know that it's not about the gifts, that "the reason for the season" is Jesus. And we might take action steps to de-materialize Christmas. Thank God.
But I wonder if we still have not eradicated our consumerism, even if in our actions and words we acknowledge Jesus. The question that I run into is, How can I celebrate, really celebrate Jesus, when I feel that I am alone this season? How can I understand his gift when I have no one to show it to me that makes it more than words I'm insisting on and maybe some lip service at grace? What does Jesus mean to *me* this holiday season?
But looking at Luke this morning, the sheer amount of praise to the Lord woven into the story stuck out to me. Because the truth of the matter, is that this story is not about Christianity. This story is not about us. This story is not about us. The story is about God. This is his story, and it is the fact that he was faithful in his promises that spurs praise. Mary and Elizabeth didn't know that Jesus would change the world. They didn't know that there would be wars fought over and for his name. They praised because God had shown his mercy and his faithfulness. The God that they had heard had liberated their people from slavery some thousand years prior had come again, just as he promised. They themselves, even before his birth, were receiving the gift of God: his grace, faithfulness, and mercy.
The Christmas season about God's story, and we celebrate that he has chosen to involve us in his story, his beautiful story of redemption. We don't celebrate how perfect he's made our lives (which he hasn't), but that he is faithful and is making all things new.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Calling
I know that I can't cover the whole of missionary theology here, and I know that I don't know enough of it or of the Spirit to even pretend to, but here's what I want (and feel I need) to offer to the conversation about calling and missions work.
Somehow, in my personal experience, calling and missions have been divorced from our relationship with Christ. Missions work and callings are for pastors, for self-sufficent, extroverted men who know how to bring people to Jesus. As I consider my current situation (temporary grad-school drop-out heading to Russia to do 'missions work'), I'd like to state that there was no directive from God that said, 'You're ready for missions! I'd like to send you to Russia. Hop to it!' There was no fire from God that made me weak in my knees, no tears of repentance to my ignorance of the world.
There is, however, a Voice that says, 'Come with me. Do you trust me? Do you believe that I am enough and that I am faithful?' I am weak in my knees and in my heart when I consider raising support--both financially and spiritually. I weep for the pain--the pain of our humanity, our collective need to know Christ to be complete, the cry of desiring to be release from bondage. I pray desperate prayers of the burdened, saying, Lord, I am young, I am inexperienced, and I know that I don't know you half as well as I should. How can you send me?
'Calling' is not made up of spreadsheets. Calling is not a career choice. Calling is not an excericise in creative thinking, asking 'How can I imitate Jesus?' Calling is a walk. Calling is a relationship. Calling is part of every day. Calling is following Jesus in whatever it is that he is asking of you in a moment in time. And for me, in this moment in time, Jesus is asking me to take him at his word, inviting me to discover that he is deeply, abidingly faithful, that he is enough, and that he is Lord. And it is for that reason I go to Russia, because of the pain in that country that I know that HE can heal. Because it asks me to trust radically in his provision, and to trust that he knows who I am better than I do.
Missions work CANNOT be done without the Holy Spirit. Missions work is *fundamentally* HIS work. Missions work is not building houses. Missions work is not teaching English. Missions work is not translating Bibles, it is not preaching on the beaches to any listening ear. Missions work is GOD's work of redemption and healing and saving; it is only by his grace that we are invited along for the journey. We are first and foremost HIS partner. A missionary's life is not split up into a vertical relationship with God and a horizontal relationship with our neighborhood. A missionary's life is an arc, where the vertical and the horizontal are intimately connected. A missionary must be continually watching for the Wind of the Spirit, listening for the Voice of the Spirit. A missionary must have the heart and the mind of Christ. And that is not just a way to say 'a gentle and humble heart.' A missionary MUST be indwelled with Christ Himself through His Holy Spirit.
What a humble calling. What a challenge to be surrendered to Him. What a privilege to be called to work alongside him.
Somehow, in my personal experience, calling and missions have been divorced from our relationship with Christ. Missions work and callings are for pastors, for self-sufficent, extroverted men who know how to bring people to Jesus. As I consider my current situation (temporary grad-school drop-out heading to Russia to do 'missions work'), I'd like to state that there was no directive from God that said, 'You're ready for missions! I'd like to send you to Russia. Hop to it!' There was no fire from God that made me weak in my knees, no tears of repentance to my ignorance of the world.
There is, however, a Voice that says, 'Come with me. Do you trust me? Do you believe that I am enough and that I am faithful?' I am weak in my knees and in my heart when I consider raising support--both financially and spiritually. I weep for the pain--the pain of our humanity, our collective need to know Christ to be complete, the cry of desiring to be release from bondage. I pray desperate prayers of the burdened, saying, Lord, I am young, I am inexperienced, and I know that I don't know you half as well as I should. How can you send me?
'Calling' is not made up of spreadsheets. Calling is not a career choice. Calling is not an excericise in creative thinking, asking 'How can I imitate Jesus?' Calling is a walk. Calling is a relationship. Calling is part of every day. Calling is following Jesus in whatever it is that he is asking of you in a moment in time. And for me, in this moment in time, Jesus is asking me to take him at his word, inviting me to discover that he is deeply, abidingly faithful, that he is enough, and that he is Lord. And it is for that reason I go to Russia, because of the pain in that country that I know that HE can heal. Because it asks me to trust radically in his provision, and to trust that he knows who I am better than I do.
Missions work CANNOT be done without the Holy Spirit. Missions work is *fundamentally* HIS work. Missions work is not building houses. Missions work is not teaching English. Missions work is not translating Bibles, it is not preaching on the beaches to any listening ear. Missions work is GOD's work of redemption and healing and saving; it is only by his grace that we are invited along for the journey. We are first and foremost HIS partner. A missionary's life is not split up into a vertical relationship with God and a horizontal relationship with our neighborhood. A missionary's life is an arc, where the vertical and the horizontal are intimately connected. A missionary must be continually watching for the Wind of the Spirit, listening for the Voice of the Spirit. A missionary must have the heart and the mind of Christ. And that is not just a way to say 'a gentle and humble heart.' A missionary MUST be indwelled with Christ Himself through His Holy Spirit.
What a humble calling. What a challenge to be surrendered to Him. What a privilege to be called to work alongside him.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Humility
As I grow older and begin to try to find my way in the "real world," I find it hard to be teachable. The pressure to figure it out and to get going somewhere prevents me from listening well to God and his Truth. That kind of listening takes time and is done in quiet places, and it can't be done with charts and lists. I find, therefore, monks process of entering the monastery encouraging. I think I read somewhere that the initial process takes 4-6 years. I'm encouraged by the way that that kind of discernment is given that much time. In this time of discernment in my own life, to which I am giving a year, not even focused exactly, I tend to feel pangs of guilt for not knowing where I'm going. And that's hard for me. I always feel a certain sense of pride that through most of college, I knew exactly what I was doing. I never did that whole "change your major 7 times" thing. I declared sophomore year, and never changed. There was a period of a few weeks junior year when I wanted to be an english major, but only because I was tired of problem solving: I wanted to read books and write about them and think about things other than integrals and metabolic pathways and atoms. And as I'm considering things like mission (which I never, ever thought of before), I am frustrated by the sense that the people around me in ministry always seemed to know this path. It's encouraging, therefore, to know that even people who have the desire to spend their lives in the monastic lifestyle spend years listening to the call of God and trust the order above them to be discerning with them.
Another place where God is humbling me is in regards to the issues I have with megachurches. I tend to be skeptical and harsh when it comes to giant churches with cushy seats full of white, middle-class Americans. But I have to acknowledge that I began my church life at Suburbia Megachurch. In the beginning, it was good: I was involved with the youth group, I had friends, I did those church retreats that I heard about, and I was learning lots about Jesus. But in the later years, there was some drama in the youth group, and it colored my remaining time there and my visits back there during my college breaks. I even toyed with the idea of finding a new church for holidays back at my parents'. However, the past few times I've been back to Suburbia Megachurch, God has used it to remind me of where I've been: that my first experiences in worship were there, how I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to find 1 Timothy 5:12. My walk started there. The first time I started to realize this, it floored me. God began to bring back the color to the picture of my high school life that I had left in grey-scale.
But God wasn't done. I had been intending on returning to Holland in time to go to Smaller Church this Sunday. I was looking forward to it; a feeling that's been missing for a while until I found Smaller Church. However, that didn't work out, so I conceded to go to Suburbia Megachurch instead. I wasn't particularly thrilled, but I went anyway. I tried to be brave and sit in the floor seating area but encountered stares at the ends of rows with empty seats in the middle, so I retreated to my traditional balcony area, which was also full. I finally found and asked for space at the very top of the balcony. After trying to worship, I sat down to listen to Suited Pastor's sermon projected on the screen so everyone could see. And I found that I had a hard time listening. I had no reason to trust the people around me, no reason to trust Suited Pastor. I had no reason to listen to what he was saying, except for the fact that he was speaking the Word. I listened well enough that I recognized that. In that recognition, I tried harder to listen, to really listen. And in my listening, I realized that Suited Pastor was a man, responding to God's call, the way I'm a woman discerning God's call. I realized that Suited Pastor was just a man called to preach the gospel to America's middle class. And what a hard demographic to preach to. I realized just how counter-cultural the gospel was to this demographic, and I sat in amazement at the potential held in those walls. Here was a church that had the people and the resources to do significant Kingdom work in a way that Smaller Church and Progressive City Storefront Churchplant didn't. Not to say that either church's work is any more or less impactful or important. Only to say that here was a church, despite it's prosperity, that continued to bring the gospel to the people, trusting in God's Word and Spirit, and was doing it's best to manage their numbers (and, based on the bulletin, seemed to be doing it well).
The further along I walk down this road, the more I learn how much I need to be humbled. This isn't going to be easy, but I know that it is worth it.
Another place where God is humbling me is in regards to the issues I have with megachurches. I tend to be skeptical and harsh when it comes to giant churches with cushy seats full of white, middle-class Americans. But I have to acknowledge that I began my church life at Suburbia Megachurch. In the beginning, it was good: I was involved with the youth group, I had friends, I did those church retreats that I heard about, and I was learning lots about Jesus. But in the later years, there was some drama in the youth group, and it colored my remaining time there and my visits back there during my college breaks. I even toyed with the idea of finding a new church for holidays back at my parents'. However, the past few times I've been back to Suburbia Megachurch, God has used it to remind me of where I've been: that my first experiences in worship were there, how I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to find 1 Timothy 5:12. My walk started there. The first time I started to realize this, it floored me. God began to bring back the color to the picture of my high school life that I had left in grey-scale.
But God wasn't done. I had been intending on returning to Holland in time to go to Smaller Church this Sunday. I was looking forward to it; a feeling that's been missing for a while until I found Smaller Church. However, that didn't work out, so I conceded to go to Suburbia Megachurch instead. I wasn't particularly thrilled, but I went anyway. I tried to be brave and sit in the floor seating area but encountered stares at the ends of rows with empty seats in the middle, so I retreated to my traditional balcony area, which was also full. I finally found and asked for space at the very top of the balcony. After trying to worship, I sat down to listen to Suited Pastor's sermon projected on the screen so everyone could see. And I found that I had a hard time listening. I had no reason to trust the people around me, no reason to trust Suited Pastor. I had no reason to listen to what he was saying, except for the fact that he was speaking the Word. I listened well enough that I recognized that. In that recognition, I tried harder to listen, to really listen. And in my listening, I realized that Suited Pastor was a man, responding to God's call, the way I'm a woman discerning God's call. I realized that Suited Pastor was just a man called to preach the gospel to America's middle class. And what a hard demographic to preach to. I realized just how counter-cultural the gospel was to this demographic, and I sat in amazement at the potential held in those walls. Here was a church that had the people and the resources to do significant Kingdom work in a way that Smaller Church and Progressive City Storefront Churchplant didn't. Not to say that either church's work is any more or less impactful or important. Only to say that here was a church, despite it's prosperity, that continued to bring the gospel to the people, trusting in God's Word and Spirit, and was doing it's best to manage their numbers (and, based on the bulletin, seemed to be doing it well).
The further along I walk down this road, the more I learn how much I need to be humbled. This isn't going to be easy, but I know that it is worth it.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
You said, ask and I'll give the nations to you...
Two weeks ago, after quite possibly the most awkward interview I've ever been through and apparently lengthy reference calls (I got to hang out with the wife of one of my references and she said that he was on the phone for 45 minutes!), I was invited to teach overseas with Teach Overseas.
With confirmation in prayer and through others, I accepted last week. Which means....I'M GOING TO RUSSIA IN 8 MONTHS!
As nervous as I am to go overseas, I know that it is the right thing for me to do. As daunting as it seems to raise support, I know that God will provide.
I feel like this is the next step in my discipleship. I feel like I won't be able to give him adequate praise until I experience his provision, until I take this leap of faith. I want and need to see him work, to give him the opportunity to reveal himself to me in this way. I need to put myself in a position where can show himself to me outside of the personal realm of my heart. Just as the priests had to step foot into the Jordan before the Lord parted it (Joshua 3:13), I have to step into places of uncertainty.
I am eager for this opportunity to take this step of faith. It fills me with joy. Not necessarily happiness persay, because I am certainly anxious about many aspects of this trip, but there is a welling joy in my heart knowing that I am following my God, wherever he leads.
With confirmation in prayer and through others, I accepted last week. Which means....I'M GOING TO RUSSIA IN 8 MONTHS!
As nervous as I am to go overseas, I know that it is the right thing for me to do. As daunting as it seems to raise support, I know that God will provide.
I feel like this is the next step in my discipleship. I feel like I won't be able to give him adequate praise until I experience his provision, until I take this leap of faith. I want and need to see him work, to give him the opportunity to reveal himself to me in this way. I need to put myself in a position where can show himself to me outside of the personal realm of my heart. Just as the priests had to step foot into the Jordan before the Lord parted it (Joshua 3:13), I have to step into places of uncertainty.
I am eager for this opportunity to take this step of faith. It fills me with joy. Not necessarily happiness persay, because I am certainly anxious about many aspects of this trip, but there is a welling joy in my heart knowing that I am following my God, wherever he leads.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Slowing Down the Whirlwind
When I set out to create this blog, my intent was to be a place to write about all solid stuff that would come out of my times spent in Scripture (in various ways), or reflections on articles I still want this blog to be encouraging, even challenging. It hasn't taken quite that shape lately. Even as I write these opening sentences, I realize the importance of what I'm going to describe about my life lately.
So let's start by describing what, exactly, my life looks like right now, and how it's gotten there over the past few weeks:
I decided to move to Holland into an apartment on 12th street. Five days before I would have to move out of my apartment in Lansing, my roommate calls me with some less than stellar news that she might not be looking for a roommate after all. So I find myself a third of the way packed (past the point of no-return, but the end still nowhere in sight), without a place to move to in five days time in a town 100 miles away. The job that I had set my sights on doesn't respond to my resume or return my phone call (the way they said they would).
It's now about 4 weeks later. I am living on 16th street, and I have a good part-time job. It's been a long story of one step forward, three steps back. But in every instance when I've taken those three steps back and I'm stranded, something comes along to give me a little bit of hope. They've been days when I'm frustrated and scared, and I say, Okay God, what do you want from me? And then, the next day, I get a little ray of sunshine. It's been like following breadcrumbs.
You would think after the way I've seen God provide all this for me, after the way I've seen God pave my way to Urbana, after the way I was able to afford IVLI when it cost more than what I had to my name, that I would be so grateful and hopeful for how this current adventure that I've found myself in is going to play out. I'm back where I want to be and feel at home in, and I get to see how God might use me to answer the prayers I've been crying about for Hope College.
My bills still cost more than what I make, my apartment is not unpacked, I don't know where I'm going to go to church, I don't have friends to hang out with, I'm worried about the roommate who's going to move in next week. I'm worried that I'm being absolutely ridiculous by even THINKING about missions/ministry work. I'm scared to send out reference forms for volunteering with Hope IV. I'm excited to hear back from Teach Overseas, but nervous that they'll actually "hire" me--I'd have to raise almost $5,000.
I don't feel qualified to be asking questions about my calling. I don't feel qualified to be applying for ministry opportunities, whether at Hope or in Russia. I can't even knock on my neighbor's door to ask to borrow a mixer, so how am I supposed to go renew campus? Some people are perfectly content to "worship love and personal dignity." How do I combat love with love?
I went to a prayer meeting at Engedi this evening, and while someone was praying for me, they used this picture of having one foot on the solid rock and the other in the shifting sand. The solid rock doesn't feel very solid when you aren't standing on it completely. It just feels in the way. But I know, I know that when I am standing in His Temple, in His Courts, when I am reading the Word like Oliver, asking, "Please, sir, can I have some more?" that life steadies. That strength is in my veins, peace is in my heart, and words are in my mouth.
It's only when those things are true that I can dream with the vision of God: campus renewal, joy from mourning, freedom for the oppressed, the very earth being cared for: darkness pushed back. I've been trying to figure everything out on my own, including myself, denying the inherent fact that I cannot redeem anything. My pride has kept me from seeking the very one that has the Authority and Power to redeem all those things, and would take this weight from my shoulders.
Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.
But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
and on his law he meditates day and night. -Psalm 1:1-2
So let's start by describing what, exactly, my life looks like right now, and how it's gotten there over the past few weeks:
I decided to move to Holland into an apartment on 12th street. Five days before I would have to move out of my apartment in Lansing, my roommate calls me with some less than stellar news that she might not be looking for a roommate after all. So I find myself a third of the way packed (past the point of no-return, but the end still nowhere in sight), without a place to move to in five days time in a town 100 miles away. The job that I had set my sights on doesn't respond to my resume or return my phone call (the way they said they would).
It's now about 4 weeks later. I am living on 16th street, and I have a good part-time job. It's been a long story of one step forward, three steps back. But in every instance when I've taken those three steps back and I'm stranded, something comes along to give me a little bit of hope. They've been days when I'm frustrated and scared, and I say, Okay God, what do you want from me? And then, the next day, I get a little ray of sunshine. It's been like following breadcrumbs.
You would think after the way I've seen God provide all this for me, after the way I've seen God pave my way to Urbana, after the way I was able to afford IVLI when it cost more than what I had to my name, that I would be so grateful and hopeful for how this current adventure that I've found myself in is going to play out. I'm back where I want to be and feel at home in, and I get to see how God might use me to answer the prayers I've been crying about for Hope College.
My bills still cost more than what I make, my apartment is not unpacked, I don't know where I'm going to go to church, I don't have friends to hang out with, I'm worried about the roommate who's going to move in next week. I'm worried that I'm being absolutely ridiculous by even THINKING about missions/ministry work. I'm scared to send out reference forms for volunteering with Hope IV. I'm excited to hear back from Teach Overseas, but nervous that they'll actually "hire" me--I'd have to raise almost $5,000.
I don't feel qualified to be asking questions about my calling. I don't feel qualified to be applying for ministry opportunities, whether at Hope or in Russia. I can't even knock on my neighbor's door to ask to borrow a mixer, so how am I supposed to go renew campus? Some people are perfectly content to "worship love and personal dignity." How do I combat love with love?
I went to a prayer meeting at Engedi this evening, and while someone was praying for me, they used this picture of having one foot on the solid rock and the other in the shifting sand. The solid rock doesn't feel very solid when you aren't standing on it completely. It just feels in the way. But I know, I know that when I am standing in His Temple, in His Courts, when I am reading the Word like Oliver, asking, "Please, sir, can I have some more?" that life steadies. That strength is in my veins, peace is in my heart, and words are in my mouth.
It's only when those things are true that I can dream with the vision of God: campus renewal, joy from mourning, freedom for the oppressed, the very earth being cared for: darkness pushed back. I've been trying to figure everything out on my own, including myself, denying the inherent fact that I cannot redeem anything. My pride has kept me from seeking the very one that has the Authority and Power to redeem all those things, and would take this weight from my shoulders.
Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.
But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
and on his law he meditates day and night. -Psalm 1:1-2
Friday, October 15, 2010
Hijacked
I love it when the Holy Spirit decides to interrupt your day and suddenly it's 2.5 hours later...
I definitely was going to get some application writing done, call my Dad, and instead, I decided to pray for a bit and then it's 8:30, the sun has gone down, and I haven't eaten dinner. And I could definitely keep chillin' with Jesus for the rest of the night, but I have some pressing things to do...like turn on lights and put on a sweatshirt and finish this application! And feed myself.
I'll post an update of what's going on a little later. Suffice to say that I'm learning the art of surrender.
I definitely was going to get some application writing done, call my Dad, and instead, I decided to pray for a bit and then it's 8:30, the sun has gone down, and I haven't eaten dinner. And I could definitely keep chillin' with Jesus for the rest of the night, but I have some pressing things to do...like turn on lights and put on a sweatshirt and finish this application! And feed myself.
I'll post an update of what's going on a little later. Suffice to say that I'm learning the art of surrender.
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
The Appalling Inefficiency of Sabbath
Posted At : September 24, 2010 7:39 PM
Related Categories: Sabbath
I am currently on sabbatical living among and observing various expressions of Christian community. In the future I will blog about what I am discovering regarding Christian community – particularly among the marginalized, but at the moment I’d like to consider the appalling inefficiency of rest.
If I confess that God made humans with intention and foresight (“fearfully and wonderfully” as the Psalmist puts it), I must either concede that God created terribly inefficient creatures, or that there must be some purpose in dormancy which is built into creation. I think it is safe to say that every living thing has regular periods of sleep, hibernation, dormancy or some kind of inactivity.
Humans appear to be genetically programmed to go dormant every single day of our lives one third of the time. If anyone tried to market a computer or car or appliance that only worked 2/3rds of the time it would be laughed right off the market (Mac users please exercise restraint in tossing jabs at us PC users). Since God neither “slumbers nor sleeps,” (Psalm 121:4) and since we are made in the image of our Creator, it stands to reason that there was some purpose for God deviating from making a creature that does not require sleep. Seems as though humans are not like God in that critical respect – that of 24-7 work (Jn 5:16-17).
We do know, however, that this sleepless God chose to “Sabbath” after making the universe. The resting of God was completely voluntary. It was not because God was exhausted after all that ex nihilo “Let there be …” stuff (Gen. 2:3). God chose rest – perhaps to give us an example. Because in addition to building dormancy into creation, God commanded that humans were not to work one full day in seven. Genetically we’d already lost our ability to function 1/3 of the time, but then God had to go and tell us to do no work one seventh of the remaining time that we could otherwise be productive.
Add to all this the dozens of feast and festival days – several of which included the command to “do no work,” and you’ve got a workforce which is, either by design or command, inactive about half of the time! The computer game “Age of Empires,” where we get to play God, would be pretty boring if your entire population did nothing half the time.
Now with a labor force which is only available to work 50% of the time you’d think God would be pretty insistent about snappy productivity during those few waking hours of work each year. There’s plenty of being fruitful, multiplying, subduing the earth, and having dominion over every living thing to get done (Gen. 1:28). Oddly, however, God commands an agrarian Israel to a sabbatical year. No planting, watering, fertilizing, weeding and harvesting for a full year – not just once in your life, but every seven years. If an adult worked for 50 years of their life, five of those years would be sabbatical years.
So here’s what I am only just beginning to learn about the beauty of regular periods of dormancy.
Identity: Our work can get perversely attached to our sense of identity and worth. We can very easily begin to think that we are what we do. I believe that the genetic and Biblical call to inactivity aids us in separating our identity from our activity. Our personhood is not defined by our work.
Trust: Think of it. Every year agrarian Israel relied on a good harvest to live through the winter, spring and summer before another harvest was available. But God told them not to plant anything for one full season in every seven. That means that after they’d harvested crops in year six, they had to survive somehow until the harvest came in year eight. This required dependence on God.
For a variety of reasons, in my sabbatical period we have experienced a diminishment in income and an increase in expense. We are learning how to trust God for daily bread in deeper ways. While here in the UK, where housing costs (along with many other things) are more expensive, we are dependent upon the generosity of communities to provide for us. We are being stripped of our sense of financial independence and self-sufficiency.
Measurability: For many in the West and certain parts of Asia productivity is measurable. Results, outcomes, growth and production are things toward which we strive (I find this a bit less so in many African and Latin American cultures). Sabbath denies us the indulgence of measuring our outcomes. We must satisfy ourselves with internal growth, more space for intimacy with God and relationship with others. These things are hard to quantify. We must learn to be content with things which cannot be counted – deeper encounters with God, time to spend with a friend, rediscovering what it means to be a member of a family, and space simply to “be.”
While I have not quite yet entered into a state of transcendent, sabbatical bliss, I have begun to slow down just a little and am learning to separate my sense of self from my work, to grow my dependence upon God and others, and to deny myself the measurability of productivity.
http://www.urbana.org/blogs/blog.main.leastofthese.cfm
(Italics mine)
Posted At : September 24, 2010 7:39 PM
Related Categories: Sabbath
I am currently on sabbatical living among and observing various expressions of Christian community. In the future I will blog about what I am discovering regarding Christian community – particularly among the marginalized, but at the moment I’d like to consider the appalling inefficiency of rest.
If I confess that God made humans with intention and foresight (“fearfully and wonderfully” as the Psalmist puts it), I must either concede that God created terribly inefficient creatures, or that there must be some purpose in dormancy which is built into creation. I think it is safe to say that every living thing has regular periods of sleep, hibernation, dormancy or some kind of inactivity.
Humans appear to be genetically programmed to go dormant every single day of our lives one third of the time. If anyone tried to market a computer or car or appliance that only worked 2/3rds of the time it would be laughed right off the market (Mac users please exercise restraint in tossing jabs at us PC users). Since God neither “slumbers nor sleeps,” (Psalm 121:4) and since we are made in the image of our Creator, it stands to reason that there was some purpose for God deviating from making a creature that does not require sleep. Seems as though humans are not like God in that critical respect – that of 24-7 work (Jn 5:16-17).
We do know, however, that this sleepless God chose to “Sabbath” after making the universe. The resting of God was completely voluntary. It was not because God was exhausted after all that ex nihilo “Let there be …” stuff (Gen. 2:3). God chose rest – perhaps to give us an example. Because in addition to building dormancy into creation, God commanded that humans were not to work one full day in seven. Genetically we’d already lost our ability to function 1/3 of the time, but then God had to go and tell us to do no work one seventh of the remaining time that we could otherwise be productive.
Add to all this the dozens of feast and festival days – several of which included the command to “do no work,” and you’ve got a workforce which is, either by design or command, inactive about half of the time! The computer game “Age of Empires,” where we get to play God, would be pretty boring if your entire population did nothing half the time.
Now with a labor force which is only available to work 50% of the time you’d think God would be pretty insistent about snappy productivity during those few waking hours of work each year. There’s plenty of being fruitful, multiplying, subduing the earth, and having dominion over every living thing to get done (Gen. 1:28). Oddly, however, God commands an agrarian Israel to a sabbatical year. No planting, watering, fertilizing, weeding and harvesting for a full year – not just once in your life, but every seven years. If an adult worked for 50 years of their life, five of those years would be sabbatical years.
So here’s what I am only just beginning to learn about the beauty of regular periods of dormancy.
Identity: Our work can get perversely attached to our sense of identity and worth. We can very easily begin to think that we are what we do. I believe that the genetic and Biblical call to inactivity aids us in separating our identity from our activity. Our personhood is not defined by our work.
Trust: Think of it. Every year agrarian Israel relied on a good harvest to live through the winter, spring and summer before another harvest was available. But God told them not to plant anything for one full season in every seven. That means that after they’d harvested crops in year six, they had to survive somehow until the harvest came in year eight. This required dependence on God.
For a variety of reasons, in my sabbatical period we have experienced a diminishment in income and an increase in expense. We are learning how to trust God for daily bread in deeper ways. While here in the UK, where housing costs (along with many other things) are more expensive, we are dependent upon the generosity of communities to provide for us. We are being stripped of our sense of financial independence and self-sufficiency.
Measurability: For many in the West and certain parts of Asia productivity is measurable. Results, outcomes, growth and production are things toward which we strive (I find this a bit less so in many African and Latin American cultures). Sabbath denies us the indulgence of measuring our outcomes. We must satisfy ourselves with internal growth, more space for intimacy with God and relationship with others. These things are hard to quantify. We must learn to be content with things which cannot be counted – deeper encounters with God, time to spend with a friend, rediscovering what it means to be a member of a family, and space simply to “be.”
While I have not quite yet entered into a state of transcendent, sabbatical bliss, I have begun to slow down just a little and am learning to separate my sense of self from my work, to grow my dependence upon God and others, and to deny myself the measurability of productivity.
http://www.urbana.org/blogs/blog.main.leastofthese.cfm
(Italics mine)
Sunday, September 19, 2010
When you follow where God leads, you never know where you'll go
So it's been a little more than three weeks since I've turned in my office keys (though my laser lab sneakers are still in the basement; I'd like to get those back...). I thought it was about time for an update.
I'm learning a lot. I haven't learned it well enough to expound upon it, but I know that God is showing me a lot through this experience. I keep finding places where my pride lurks, discovering how stubborn I am.
I'm intending on leaving Lansing to move back to Holland, where my vision for Hope students drives me to pray the biggest prayers I have ever prayed. I don't have a job yet, I might have an apartment. But the craziest thing is that I'm back on Urbana's website, considering filling out my resume. I would not even been thinking about this if I were still in school. I'm stepping out of this realm of science and absolute facts, I'm leaving my cozy little lab, with my chemicals and my books, for a world of possibility that I am entirely sure that I will not be able to wrap my mind around. I feel like Moses, like Solomon.
Take a breath and hold on tight/Spin around one more time/And gracefully fall back in the arms of grace -Lifehouse
I'm learning a lot. I haven't learned it well enough to expound upon it, but I know that God is showing me a lot through this experience. I keep finding places where my pride lurks, discovering how stubborn I am.
I'm intending on leaving Lansing to move back to Holland, where my vision for Hope students drives me to pray the biggest prayers I have ever prayed. I don't have a job yet, I might have an apartment. But the craziest thing is that I'm back on Urbana's website, considering filling out my resume. I would not even been thinking about this if I were still in school. I'm stepping out of this realm of science and absolute facts, I'm leaving my cozy little lab, with my chemicals and my books, for a world of possibility that I am entirely sure that I will not be able to wrap my mind around. I feel like Moses, like Solomon.
Take a breath and hold on tight/Spin around one more time/And gracefully fall back in the arms of grace -Lifehouse
Friday, August 20, 2010
Counter Cultural Hurts
Here I am. Living into the deep reality that alignment with Jesus forces other things out of alignment.
Here I am. Asking the question, "What matters most to me?" And finding that the answer is a deep, deep longing to be found in the arms of my Lover. To know who I am in his eyes, to know his voice, to function in the way that when I press into his heart, he presses back, and when he presses back, I have what I need to do that which he has called me to. And when that work--that work-- has me broken and exhausted, I run back to his arms and find sanctuary.
Here I am. Having found that grad school is frustrating all those things, and feeling short-circuited, I have, as of this week, left grad school for a year.
I have mixed feelings about this. It is a mixture of excitement-for all the things I can see God growing in me through this; guilt-for needing the time, for actually taking that time, for leaving the lab group and university that I was so sure I was called to and that somehow by leaving I'm not being a good witness; anxiety-for not having a paycheck for the time being, for how it reflects on me professionally.
But what it comes down to is a matter of idolatry, and of healing. I am excited and challenged by the idea of introducing myself to someone "Hi. I'm Rachel." Not "Hi. I'm Rachel. I'm a chemistry grad student at State. I am eager to find out what happens when I let myself just be a Daughter. I need to learn rhythms of grace. The damage I've accumulated over the years has never had a chance to heal, and the ways I've tried to fix myself are proving their uselessness and the ways they are proving to do more damage as they shut me out from the only One who knows how to heal. This cleansing and healing work is going to be hard, but I when I remember that I'm not the one performing the surgery, the less daunting this year seems.
So here I am. Here I am, Lord. Here I am.
Here I am. Asking the question, "What matters most to me?" And finding that the answer is a deep, deep longing to be found in the arms of my Lover. To know who I am in his eyes, to know his voice, to function in the way that when I press into his heart, he presses back, and when he presses back, I have what I need to do that which he has called me to. And when that work--that work-- has me broken and exhausted, I run back to his arms and find sanctuary.
Here I am. Having found that grad school is frustrating all those things, and feeling short-circuited, I have, as of this week, left grad school for a year.
I have mixed feelings about this. It is a mixture of excitement-for all the things I can see God growing in me through this; guilt-for needing the time, for actually taking that time, for leaving the lab group and university that I was so sure I was called to and that somehow by leaving I'm not being a good witness; anxiety-for not having a paycheck for the time being, for how it reflects on me professionally.
But what it comes down to is a matter of idolatry, and of healing. I am excited and challenged by the idea of introducing myself to someone "Hi. I'm Rachel." Not "Hi. I'm Rachel. I'm a chemistry grad student at State. I am eager to find out what happens when I let myself just be a Daughter. I need to learn rhythms of grace. The damage I've accumulated over the years has never had a chance to heal, and the ways I've tried to fix myself are proving their uselessness and the ways they are proving to do more damage as they shut me out from the only One who knows how to heal. This cleansing and healing work is going to be hard, but I when I remember that I'm not the one performing the surgery, the less daunting this year seems.
So here I am. Here I am, Lord. Here I am.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Not of this world
I've been pondering some things lately. I've wanted to blog about them, but none of them seemed to be things to warrant a whole blog to unpack them. But I still want to share.
1. Observations in Exodus 34:
God isn't just a jealous god. His NAME is Jealous. Like capital J Jealous. Bam.
We get the whole seventh day of rest thing. But we give the excuse, oh, but in today's world, we just don't have time. The world just doesn't work that way anymore. Sabbath-keeping is old-fashioned, and besides, it's the old law, so we don't need it. So you know, maybe when I get an easy week, then I'll do that. 1. Let's get real here. There is never going to be an easy week. 2. He specifies, "Even during the plowing season and harvest you shall rest." ie, even if it's finals week, you must rest. Kind of changes things a bit, doesn't it.
2. We often think of obedience as 'doing.' So when we bring that term into the church, we regard obedience as going where and doing what Jesus tells us to do, ie, going to Russia, doing ministry things, not sleeping around, etc. But I'm finding that my test of obedience right now is to NOT do. WAIT. STAY. DWELL. Who knew that NOT doing something could be so hard?
3. Sin=stalking ex-husband. (See Romans 7) Oh, InterVarsity, how I love us. And how it's like having family everywhere across the country.
4. Lately, I've been confronted with the sheer absurdity of the gospel. I mean, this guy named Jesus died and then FREAKIN ROSE AGAIN. The dude didn't stay dead! And my science brain can't make sense of that, wants to reject it, but the deep part of me cannot. I cannot make sense of it, but my heart and my soul knows it like my body registers a needle in my foot as pain. The deep part of me knows Jesus in a way that can't be understood through reason the way we like. "If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world." [C.S. Lewis] (Check out this article that I found after I wrote this: http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/deeper-walk/features/22298-jesus-gospel-is-not-a-formula)
1. Observations in Exodus 34:
God isn't just a jealous god. His NAME is Jealous. Like capital J Jealous. Bam.
We get the whole seventh day of rest thing. But we give the excuse, oh, but in today's world, we just don't have time. The world just doesn't work that way anymore. Sabbath-keeping is old-fashioned, and besides, it's the old law, so we don't need it. So you know, maybe when I get an easy week, then I'll do that. 1. Let's get real here. There is never going to be an easy week. 2. He specifies, "Even during the plowing season and harvest you shall rest." ie, even if it's finals week, you must rest. Kind of changes things a bit, doesn't it.
2. We often think of obedience as 'doing.' So when we bring that term into the church, we regard obedience as going where and doing what Jesus tells us to do, ie, going to Russia, doing ministry things, not sleeping around, etc. But I'm finding that my test of obedience right now is to NOT do. WAIT. STAY. DWELL. Who knew that NOT doing something could be so hard?
3. Sin=stalking ex-husband. (See Romans 7) Oh, InterVarsity, how I love us. And how it's like having family everywhere across the country.
4. Lately, I've been confronted with the sheer absurdity of the gospel. I mean, this guy named Jesus died and then FREAKIN ROSE AGAIN. The dude didn't stay dead! And my science brain can't make sense of that, wants to reject it, but the deep part of me cannot. I cannot make sense of it, but my heart and my soul knows it like my body registers a needle in my foot as pain. The deep part of me knows Jesus in a way that can't be understood through reason the way we like. "If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world." [C.S. Lewis] (Check out this article that I found after I wrote this: http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/deeper-walk/features/22298-jesus-gospel-is-not-a-formula)
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Rainforest
It is 5:30 in the morning.
And I have realized something wonderful:
God is still God whether it is 1am and your day is done and over and heading to bed or it is 3:30am and your alarm is going off because you have to be at work at 5am to run an experiment. It doesn't change who God is.
God is still God whether I am an undergrad at Hope College or a grad student at Michigan State University.
God is still God whether I am alone and unsure or I am surrounded by friends and comfortable.
It does not matter the path that I am on, the rocks and potholes in the pavement, or if there is pavement at all. There is one Truth, and that is that there is one true God, and He reigns. Period. The rest is just noise. And the beauty of it is that we can get caught up in the noise and get stressed out, or we can listen for the melody hidden beneath it all. A melody called "Redemption." It is a love song written in the rainforest.
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. -Ps 73:26
And I have realized something wonderful:
God is still God whether it is 1am and your day is done and over and heading to bed or it is 3:30am and your alarm is going off because you have to be at work at 5am to run an experiment. It doesn't change who God is.
God is still God whether I am an undergrad at Hope College or a grad student at Michigan State University.
God is still God whether I am alone and unsure or I am surrounded by friends and comfortable.
It does not matter the path that I am on, the rocks and potholes in the pavement, or if there is pavement at all. There is one Truth, and that is that there is one true God, and He reigns. Period. The rest is just noise. And the beauty of it is that we can get caught up in the noise and get stressed out, or we can listen for the melody hidden beneath it all. A melody called "Redemption." It is a love song written in the rainforest.
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. -Ps 73:26
Monday, May 31, 2010
Science and Calling
Something that one of my professors at Hope said a while ago has been rather stuck in my head:
"I wonder if Satan doesn't use the hardships of grad school to keep us out of the academy"
along with something that someone else (it may have been my pastor? I'm not sure) said
"Persecution comes part and parcel of being a Christian. If you aren't being persecuted, I would question your walk".
As I read about Newton, and the scientists of his era, I am reminded of the creativity inherent in science that seems to be missing. It is interesting to be referred to as a "practitioner" of science, especially when you think of doctors of all kinds getting their degrees before they can open a practice. When I take my articles and my textbooks outside and walk around, things seem lighter, like this was why I entered grad school in the first place: to find a place to explore science. I didn't go to grad school to get a degree. I went to grad school to learn and to explore.
Here is where I am considering scientific scholarship a calling (maybe not My Calling, but a calling nonetheless). I think we toss that word around a lot, but given the persecution I've been facing in the past few months, and the things that remind me why I'm a scientist, I wonder if, in fact, just as the Lord has been steadying me, this is not precisely where I am supposed to be. Not just one of those things where God just opens lots of doors and lets you choose which door to go through, the way he did with Urbana, but this is exactly what I should be doing.
I think what has been adding to the stress is that the persecution hits precisely where it hurts _me_--not other people, but persecution tailored to me. Not the persecution I see other people facing, with deadlines they are struggling to meet, with advisors that are cruel, but, in the absence of deadlines and hired by the rare advisor that actually cares, with internal struggles regarding emotions and sense of purpose and place. That instead of deadlines and advisors breathing down my neck, I have cinder block walls and The Institution trying to steal the creativity and intrigue that make me a scientist, like the ones of old. They observed something in their life that sparked their curiosity and proposed ideas about the phenomenon. The ones that truly saw science as an art, as an exploratory endeavor, instead of the scientists I feel surrounded by where the universe is meant to be solved and mastered, taken apart and put back together.
I think about what God did at IVLI, the particular ways he touched me. There were so many, but the one way that seems to bind the rest together, the undercurrent to that whole month and everything that happened, was that I was not meant to hide. I have spent so many years hiding in corner, shutting up because that was my place and I had nothing worth saying. I wonder that if instead of my plans to hole myself away in a lab because I had to, Jesus gave me confidence to do more than that in my lab; to remind my fellow scientists of the vastness of the universe, the humility and awe that science should inspire. That maybe I will call people to return to the roots of scientific research. To remind them and show them that the values we are asked to exemplify, like integrity, respect, and colleagiality, are values Jesus calls us to as well.
There's that word again: Return. I deeply feel like God is calling us to return to Himself; my soul cries out for it. I wonder if that is not everything my life is about: calling people to return. O, that I may have such a calling...!
Something else I've been thinking about (thanks to books like 'Courage and Calling' and 'Following Jesus in the 'Real' World' and other assorted articles and references to the Karate Kid), and taking great comfort in, is the way that our jobs can serve as avenues of discipleship. The question Jesus has been asking me is not, 'Will you go for me?' but 'Will you stay with me?'. Something that has been echoing in my heart since Urbana (maybe earlier?) is 'SEEK me, THEN follow.' Find me here, meet me here. I've been coming back to the idea of God having all of my days written in his book (Ps 139:16). Regardless of the trials of the days, they are still days written in his book, and only he knows where the days will take me. So my question I have to answer is not 'Do I want to do science for the rest of my life?' (which I don't know) but 'Can I learn and grow by doing science here?' and that answer is a resonant 'Yes.' So, I will stay in this land and grow here, now, in this way. And I think that's all Jesus ever asks us to do, grad school or otherwise. 'What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.' (Micah 6:8)
"I wonder if Satan doesn't use the hardships of grad school to keep us out of the academy"
along with something that someone else (it may have been my pastor? I'm not sure) said
"Persecution comes part and parcel of being a Christian. If you aren't being persecuted, I would question your walk".
As I read about Newton, and the scientists of his era, I am reminded of the creativity inherent in science that seems to be missing. It is interesting to be referred to as a "practitioner" of science, especially when you think of doctors of all kinds getting their degrees before they can open a practice. When I take my articles and my textbooks outside and walk around, things seem lighter, like this was why I entered grad school in the first place: to find a place to explore science. I didn't go to grad school to get a degree. I went to grad school to learn and to explore.
Here is where I am considering scientific scholarship a calling (maybe not My Calling, but a calling nonetheless). I think we toss that word around a lot, but given the persecution I've been facing in the past few months, and the things that remind me why I'm a scientist, I wonder if, in fact, just as the Lord has been steadying me, this is not precisely where I am supposed to be. Not just one of those things where God just opens lots of doors and lets you choose which door to go through, the way he did with Urbana, but this is exactly what I should be doing.
I think what has been adding to the stress is that the persecution hits precisely where it hurts _me_--not other people, but persecution tailored to me. Not the persecution I see other people facing, with deadlines they are struggling to meet, with advisors that are cruel, but, in the absence of deadlines and hired by the rare advisor that actually cares, with internal struggles regarding emotions and sense of purpose and place. That instead of deadlines and advisors breathing down my neck, I have cinder block walls and The Institution trying to steal the creativity and intrigue that make me a scientist, like the ones of old. They observed something in their life that sparked their curiosity and proposed ideas about the phenomenon. The ones that truly saw science as an art, as an exploratory endeavor, instead of the scientists I feel surrounded by where the universe is meant to be solved and mastered, taken apart and put back together.
I think about what God did at IVLI, the particular ways he touched me. There were so many, but the one way that seems to bind the rest together, the undercurrent to that whole month and everything that happened, was that I was not meant to hide. I have spent so many years hiding in corner, shutting up because that was my place and I had nothing worth saying. I wonder that if instead of my plans to hole myself away in a lab because I had to, Jesus gave me confidence to do more than that in my lab; to remind my fellow scientists of the vastness of the universe, the humility and awe that science should inspire. That maybe I will call people to return to the roots of scientific research. To remind them and show them that the values we are asked to exemplify, like integrity, respect, and colleagiality, are values Jesus calls us to as well.
There's that word again: Return. I deeply feel like God is calling us to return to Himself; my soul cries out for it. I wonder if that is not everything my life is about: calling people to return. O, that I may have such a calling...!
Something else I've been thinking about (thanks to books like 'Courage and Calling' and 'Following Jesus in the 'Real' World' and other assorted articles and references to the Karate Kid), and taking great comfort in, is the way that our jobs can serve as avenues of discipleship. The question Jesus has been asking me is not, 'Will you go for me?' but 'Will you stay with me?'. Something that has been echoing in my heart since Urbana (maybe earlier?) is 'SEEK me, THEN follow.' Find me here, meet me here. I've been coming back to the idea of God having all of my days written in his book (Ps 139:16). Regardless of the trials of the days, they are still days written in his book, and only he knows where the days will take me. So my question I have to answer is not 'Do I want to do science for the rest of my life?' (which I don't know) but 'Can I learn and grow by doing science here?' and that answer is a resonant 'Yes.' So, I will stay in this land and grow here, now, in this way. And I think that's all Jesus ever asks us to do, grad school or otherwise. 'What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.' (Micah 6:8)
Monday, May 10, 2010
Made to Worship
You and I were made to worship
You and I are called to love
You and I are forgiven and free
-Chris Tomlin
We were made to worship (Isaiah 43:7; Romans 1). We are worshipers. It's what lies at our core. If my memory serves me well, I don't see God (either through the prophets or through Jesus) asking his people to worship, but instead to turn their worship towards him. All of Hosea is about a woman running after other lovers, I think of Isaiah and Zechariah and Jeremiah (I may be getting names wrong) pleading with Israel to return; Jesus tells the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4 about true worshipers. It's not that we don't know how to worship, and God is trying to teach us how to worship. It's that we give worship to other things.
But what is worship? I'm not sure it's something you can define. I remember discussing this very thing in a track for worship leaders at an IV conference a few years ago. Most of us would agree that worship is not just church music. Worship includes prayer, it includes obedience. They way I answered (which apparently earned me the temporary nickname of "Jenga") was that it was a posture. Worship is a posture (certainly on an internal level, possibly also in a physical manner) in which you pour out to God and you allow God to pour into you.
So then if we were created to worship, we will, by nature, place ourselves in positions to expend energy towards something, as well as positions in which we are poured into. We are guilty of idolatry when we place ourselves in positions where we are offering and surrendering to that which is not God. It's hard to think of our idols because we think of idols like little cows made out of gold or something. But really the sin wasn't that the Israelites made a little figurine. The sin was that they trusted that little figurine for what it could never offer: hope, security. Our idols are what we rely on to give us hope and security. Performance. Wealth. Ourselves. Other people. These things are not bad things. But they can become idols.
We were made to worship. We are going to worship something. The question is where is our worship focused?
Lord, forgive us for the times when we have surrendered our worship to idols, things that are not you, that could never be you, but we insist on placing our trust in them all the same. Free us from the bondages, God. Free us from the bondages that come from serving foreign gods that never promise our safety, that never promise us love, but merely cheap thrills to lure us deeper into darkness and slavery. Lord! We cry out for release of those chains and bondages!! We cry out for the release of these shackles of shame and guilt and darkness. Invade our hearts, shine brightly into our darkness, lead us out of our self-made prisons, and heal the wounds our chains have left and our captors have dealt us. Walk us into your light, Father. We give you highest praise; may it be from the deep places of our hearts.
You and I are called to love
You and I are forgiven and free
-Chris Tomlin
We were made to worship (Isaiah 43:7; Romans 1). We are worshipers. It's what lies at our core. If my memory serves me well, I don't see God (either through the prophets or through Jesus) asking his people to worship, but instead to turn their worship towards him. All of Hosea is about a woman running after other lovers, I think of Isaiah and Zechariah and Jeremiah (I may be getting names wrong) pleading with Israel to return; Jesus tells the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4 about true worshipers. It's not that we don't know how to worship, and God is trying to teach us how to worship. It's that we give worship to other things.
But what is worship? I'm not sure it's something you can define. I remember discussing this very thing in a track for worship leaders at an IV conference a few years ago. Most of us would agree that worship is not just church music. Worship includes prayer, it includes obedience. They way I answered (which apparently earned me the temporary nickname of "Jenga") was that it was a posture. Worship is a posture (certainly on an internal level, possibly also in a physical manner) in which you pour out to God and you allow God to pour into you.
So then if we were created to worship, we will, by nature, place ourselves in positions to expend energy towards something, as well as positions in which we are poured into. We are guilty of idolatry when we place ourselves in positions where we are offering and surrendering to that which is not God. It's hard to think of our idols because we think of idols like little cows made out of gold or something. But really the sin wasn't that the Israelites made a little figurine. The sin was that they trusted that little figurine for what it could never offer: hope, security. Our idols are what we rely on to give us hope and security. Performance. Wealth. Ourselves. Other people. These things are not bad things. But they can become idols.
We were made to worship. We are going to worship something. The question is where is our worship focused?
Lord, forgive us for the times when we have surrendered our worship to idols, things that are not you, that could never be you, but we insist on placing our trust in them all the same. Free us from the bondages, God. Free us from the bondages that come from serving foreign gods that never promise our safety, that never promise us love, but merely cheap thrills to lure us deeper into darkness and slavery. Lord! We cry out for release of those chains and bondages!! We cry out for the release of these shackles of shame and guilt and darkness. Invade our hearts, shine brightly into our darkness, lead us out of our self-made prisons, and heal the wounds our chains have left and our captors have dealt us. Walk us into your light, Father. We give you highest praise; may it be from the deep places of our hearts.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Prayer
If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer. Matthew 21:22
I think we miss a crucial point in this. We know this verse, so we pray about a lot of things.
But I think we forget to ask.
I think we spend so much time praying over a situation that we forget to really ask God for something. And I think asking requires something more than a question mark. It requires acknowledging and understanding that you do not have. There is no point in asking if you already have it.
Acknowledging that you do not have requires humility. Asking the Lord for something requires a need. It requires confessing a need that we, ourselves, cannot meet. We do not like admitting that we cannot meet a need. We are okay when we pray about things are clearly not under our control. We pray for favor in an interviewer's eyes. We pray for open doors and direction when we aren't sure what to do. These are all good things to pray for. But they rarely require humility. Prayers with humility require an honest assessment of ourselves in the light of the situation. Prayers out of this assessment are the humble ones, the ones that require God to move. They require God to move because we have recognized that we cannot meet our own needs, sometimes in places that we feel that we should not need. Those are the hard prayers.
But it is in these hard prayers that we experience God's extravagant love for us. It is in these hard prayers that we find the Love of the One who came and dwelt among us.
I think we miss a crucial point in this. We know this verse, so we pray about a lot of things.
But I think we forget to ask.
I think we spend so much time praying over a situation that we forget to really ask God for something. And I think asking requires something more than a question mark. It requires acknowledging and understanding that you do not have. There is no point in asking if you already have it.
Acknowledging that you do not have requires humility. Asking the Lord for something requires a need. It requires confessing a need that we, ourselves, cannot meet. We do not like admitting that we cannot meet a need. We are okay when we pray about things are clearly not under our control. We pray for favor in an interviewer's eyes. We pray for open doors and direction when we aren't sure what to do. These are all good things to pray for. But they rarely require humility. Prayers with humility require an honest assessment of ourselves in the light of the situation. Prayers out of this assessment are the humble ones, the ones that require God to move. They require God to move because we have recognized that we cannot meet our own needs, sometimes in places that we feel that we should not need. Those are the hard prayers.
But it is in these hard prayers that we experience God's extravagant love for us. It is in these hard prayers that we find the Love of the One who came and dwelt among us.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Walking and Mission: Now
This is the way; walk in it. Isaiah 30:21b
Americans are driven people. Our culture is always looking for the bigger, better, cooler, more extreme, more intense thing. Our success is based on our achievements. We live the first 18 years of our life waiting for our high school graduation. But before you even make it there, from your sophomore year of high school, you are expected to start planning for college. Before you even take your last set of finals, you are supposed to know exactly where you are going to go to school, and of course, the only reason you are going to college is to get a degree in a certain area so that you grow up to be what you always wanted. Hooray! You've made it into college. Now you just have 4 more years until you get to go get a stellar internship or go to graduate school! But of course, along the way, you know that you have to publish papers, get into this society in order to be accepted there. Hooray, I've made it to grad school! Now I've just got 5 (or more...) more years until I can get a job. I have to impress my advisor, I have to join this society, I have to crank out this number of papers, and I have to meet this person and this person and go to this conference so I can meet that potential employer and get that job!
We are always focused on the next thing. We are consumed with the future--and American Christianity is not exempt from this. We are focused on milestones. That first step to find a church. That moment when someone makes a choice to follow Jesus. The moment when one breaks down and confesses a "great and hideous" sin. And, of course, that Call to Missions. We know that phrase in that verse in Matthew: "Go, and make disciples of all nations." We know it well.
As two wonderful people have pointed out to me as I've been wrestling with this whole idea over the past two months, the verb is more accurately translated as "as you go". We make calling this big, huge thing. We make calling out to be something you do in the future, that until God sends fire or something, or if you have the perfect set of skills to do church/ministry/mission work, you don't have A Calling. Os Guinness reminds us that "[o]ur primary calling as followers of Christ is by him, to him, and for him. First and foremost we are called to Someone (God), not to something (such as motherhood, politics, or teaching) or to somewhere (such as the inner city or Outer Mongolia)." Our Call is to follow Jesus. And I don't mean that one moment when you become a Christian for the first time and call yourself a follower of Jesus. I mean follow in every sense of the word. Follow is not a destination. Follow is not a moment. Follow is a sequence of moments. It is inclusive not just of your future, your Sundays and your Wednesdays, your job, your college choice, what church you belong to (besides, the church is merely a local expression of the Body of Christ; that's a cool post for another time). Following is inclusive of the minutes, of the seconds that you live and breathe now, and our Call is to love Jesus, and to be his hands and his feet, his eyes and his ears, and his pinkies and his elbows now. I might even say that we have to learn how to be his pinkies and his elbows before we learn how to be his eyes and his ears, and we have to learn how to be his eyes and his ears before we can be his hands and his feet (though I'm sure we learn them all in tandem to some degree).
And we will fail. We will fail at following. Not just in those "big" ways, when we confess our unchecked greed, our unbounded sexuality that we have been denying God's say in. We will fail at following. We fail when we don't trust Jesus to be enough for us. To steal a phrase from the lead singer of Tenth Avenue North, we live in a world of cheap thrills. We fail when we replace Jesus' sustaining grace and power and love with the cheap thrills this world offers us. The "big" failures are not the problems. The addictions to pornography, the drive to accumulate wealth at any cost, the consuming need to have a significant other at all times--those are not the problems. The problem is our tendency, as inherently sinful people, to deny in our daily moments that Jesus is enough for all our needs. We fail when we choose our own ways of meeting our needs--for affirmation, for intimacy, for success, for security, instead of trusting Jesus and what he has to offer us and what he calls us to do in our moments.
I remember one Retreat of Silence I had at IVLI after a particularly challenging week. We had gone on our outtrip to Mackinac, and God had shown me more of himself, and more of myself. I was rather a mess. I had a conversation with Jesus that went something like this:
Nothing you could do could ever make me love you less, because you have followed me.
But I can't even follow right!
Don't you think I know that? :)
And so I spent the rest of that ROS learning how to rest with Jesus, in the way you rest with a significant other. When you rest on the couch or in bed together, you don't justify yourselves to each other. You just rest with them. Regardless of how you yelled at each other that day, or neglected each other that week, when you cuddle with each other, you focus on just being with them. And you find the grace in each others' arms.
So before we follow Jesus across the ocean, we have to learn how to stay. We have to learn how to stay when nothing makes sense and the path seems to be going nowhere--or even in the wrong direction. God leads by steps, and we can't tell him what those steps are. This goes against everything our culture tells us: plan for the future now, otherwise you'll never get anywhere. We have to learn how to follow in our moments before we can follow Jesus in our futures. Following is not a goal. Following requires being a disciple. Disciples are not made. Disciples are. Even when Jesus' twelve original disciples were being dense, they were still disciples. The path in the verse I started this blog with is not the goal or the point; the path is not what matters. What matters is that we walk in it. Discipleship is not a goal. Discipleship happens along the way.
For me, personally, I no longer understand why I am in graduate school for chemistry. And that is frustrating to me--even though I now remember that I asked for it when I surrendered my plans to the Living God, time and time again. I'm learning how to live in the reality that God really has removed any sense of right to the control of my life, to be content with that, to surrender each step, to trust God's faithfulness. I'm learning how grad school might just be a grace period. A chance to learn how discipline forms rhythms of work and rest, and a chance for me to not worry about that next step. To realize that I've been blessed with a job that pays me sufficiently, that has flexible hours, and that by definition is exploratory. Most importantly, though, I think, is that it is a chance for me to heal. I very much feel like God is tearing down a lot of things in my life, dredging out hidden idols, and asking me to lean fully upon his grace. At IVLI, God showed me that my greatest strength as a leader is my heart. God also showed me that it is also my greatest weakness, and that it is in need of some major care. Chemistry has nothing to do with my heart; it is a purely intellectual pursuit. So, I do chemistry graduate work while God what he does best: restore. God is teaching me what I have always wanted to teach others: God is more interested in our hearts than what we do.
Americans are driven people. Our culture is always looking for the bigger, better, cooler, more extreme, more intense thing. Our success is based on our achievements. We live the first 18 years of our life waiting for our high school graduation. But before you even make it there, from your sophomore year of high school, you are expected to start planning for college. Before you even take your last set of finals, you are supposed to know exactly where you are going to go to school, and of course, the only reason you are going to college is to get a degree in a certain area so that you grow up to be what you always wanted. Hooray! You've made it into college. Now you just have 4 more years until you get to go get a stellar internship or go to graduate school! But of course, along the way, you know that you have to publish papers, get into this society in order to be accepted there. Hooray, I've made it to grad school! Now I've just got 5 (or more...) more years until I can get a job. I have to impress my advisor, I have to join this society, I have to crank out this number of papers, and I have to meet this person and this person and go to this conference so I can meet that potential employer and get that job!
We are always focused on the next thing. We are consumed with the future--and American Christianity is not exempt from this. We are focused on milestones. That first step to find a church. That moment when someone makes a choice to follow Jesus. The moment when one breaks down and confesses a "great and hideous" sin. And, of course, that Call to Missions. We know that phrase in that verse in Matthew: "Go, and make disciples of all nations." We know it well.
As two wonderful people have pointed out to me as I've been wrestling with this whole idea over the past two months, the verb is more accurately translated as "as you go". We make calling this big, huge thing. We make calling out to be something you do in the future, that until God sends fire or something, or if you have the perfect set of skills to do church/ministry/mission work, you don't have A Calling. Os Guinness reminds us that "[o]ur primary calling as followers of Christ is by him, to him, and for him. First and foremost we are called to Someone (God), not to something (such as motherhood, politics, or teaching) or to somewhere (such as the inner city or Outer Mongolia)." Our Call is to follow Jesus. And I don't mean that one moment when you become a Christian for the first time and call yourself a follower of Jesus. I mean follow in every sense of the word. Follow is not a destination. Follow is not a moment. Follow is a sequence of moments. It is inclusive not just of your future, your Sundays and your Wednesdays, your job, your college choice, what church you belong to (besides, the church is merely a local expression of the Body of Christ; that's a cool post for another time). Following is inclusive of the minutes, of the seconds that you live and breathe now, and our Call is to love Jesus, and to be his hands and his feet, his eyes and his ears, and his pinkies and his elbows now. I might even say that we have to learn how to be his pinkies and his elbows before we learn how to be his eyes and his ears, and we have to learn how to be his eyes and his ears before we can be his hands and his feet (though I'm sure we learn them all in tandem to some degree).
And we will fail. We will fail at following. Not just in those "big" ways, when we confess our unchecked greed, our unbounded sexuality that we have been denying God's say in. We will fail at following. We fail when we don't trust Jesus to be enough for us. To steal a phrase from the lead singer of Tenth Avenue North, we live in a world of cheap thrills. We fail when we replace Jesus' sustaining grace and power and love with the cheap thrills this world offers us. The "big" failures are not the problems. The addictions to pornography, the drive to accumulate wealth at any cost, the consuming need to have a significant other at all times--those are not the problems. The problem is our tendency, as inherently sinful people, to deny in our daily moments that Jesus is enough for all our needs. We fail when we choose our own ways of meeting our needs--for affirmation, for intimacy, for success, for security, instead of trusting Jesus and what he has to offer us and what he calls us to do in our moments.
I remember one Retreat of Silence I had at IVLI after a particularly challenging week. We had gone on our outtrip to Mackinac, and God had shown me more of himself, and more of myself. I was rather a mess. I had a conversation with Jesus that went something like this:
Nothing you could do could ever make me love you less, because you have followed me.
But I can't even follow right!
Don't you think I know that? :)
And so I spent the rest of that ROS learning how to rest with Jesus, in the way you rest with a significant other. When you rest on the couch or in bed together, you don't justify yourselves to each other. You just rest with them. Regardless of how you yelled at each other that day, or neglected each other that week, when you cuddle with each other, you focus on just being with them. And you find the grace in each others' arms.
So before we follow Jesus across the ocean, we have to learn how to stay. We have to learn how to stay when nothing makes sense and the path seems to be going nowhere--or even in the wrong direction. God leads by steps, and we can't tell him what those steps are. This goes against everything our culture tells us: plan for the future now, otherwise you'll never get anywhere. We have to learn how to follow in our moments before we can follow Jesus in our futures. Following is not a goal. Following requires being a disciple. Disciples are not made. Disciples are. Even when Jesus' twelve original disciples were being dense, they were still disciples. The path in the verse I started this blog with is not the goal or the point; the path is not what matters. What matters is that we walk in it. Discipleship is not a goal. Discipleship happens along the way.
For me, personally, I no longer understand why I am in graduate school for chemistry. And that is frustrating to me--even though I now remember that I asked for it when I surrendered my plans to the Living God, time and time again. I'm learning how to live in the reality that God really has removed any sense of right to the control of my life, to be content with that, to surrender each step, to trust God's faithfulness. I'm learning how grad school might just be a grace period. A chance to learn how discipline forms rhythms of work and rest, and a chance for me to not worry about that next step. To realize that I've been blessed with a job that pays me sufficiently, that has flexible hours, and that by definition is exploratory. Most importantly, though, I think, is that it is a chance for me to heal. I very much feel like God is tearing down a lot of things in my life, dredging out hidden idols, and asking me to lean fully upon his grace. At IVLI, God showed me that my greatest strength as a leader is my heart. God also showed me that it is also my greatest weakness, and that it is in need of some major care. Chemistry has nothing to do with my heart; it is a purely intellectual pursuit. So, I do chemistry graduate work while God what he does best: restore. God is teaching me what I have always wanted to teach others: God is more interested in our hearts than what we do.
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