I'm thinking about Easter, since it's just a couple of weeks away. Earlier today while my mind wandered, I thought about how Jesus' life on earth changed the status quo. How He could say just a few words and suddenly, life became a mystery again and the wonderful came into grasp. How many simple lives He changed forever, and how His choices ripple through mankind, even today, calling us, stirring up a longing for more.
Back in my days as a Younglife leader, we did a special thing for our Easter talk one year. All of us shared a monologue from the perspective of someone whose life was changed by Jesus. All of them pointed to different aspects of Jesus' character and life. I chose to talk about the man possessed by demons in the Gerasenes region. (Luke 8:23-39) (Mark 5:1-20)
I took a little creative license, but mostly it's taken right from that text. I wrote it with a spin to help relate to the teens in our group, but I thought I'd share it. Bear in mind it is copyrighted material and if you want to reproduce it you'd need my permission.
Gadarean Monologue
I’ll never forget the night Jesus came to the Gadarean tombs. I’d never seen him before, but the demons inside of me knew him well. Until he came, they controlled everything I did. All I could do was wander around up in the tombs and try to make it stop. People chased me out of the town because they were so afraid of what the demons would do. For a while, they’d lock me up with ropes, but pretty soon the demons made me strong enough to break them. Then they tried chains and I could break them too. They were stronger than me and stronger than anything I tried to do to stop them. I was delusional. So frustrated with everything I did. I wanted to change and be a good person. I wanted to live with my family and lead a normal life. But these demons…
They were stronger than me. Stronger than any other man.
Lately I’d taken to cutting at myself. I’m not sure why, but it made me feel better. I was just so guilty and tired and frustrated. Cutting made me feel human again. Cutting gave me control over the demons. For a while. But then I couldn’t stop. And I just stayed up in the tombs on the hills, crying. Screaming, hoping someone would save me. But knowing that there was no hope. No one short of God Himself could control the strength of the demons.
Until Jesus. There he was, coming across the lake. As soon as he got out of the boat, I ran to him. The demons tried to pull me away, but I ran. Then, they made it so I couldn’t talk and they started talking to Him. He was saying for them to leave me, but they fought inside of me, asking Him not to torture them, calling him the Son of God.
And he must have been the Son of God, because next thing I knew, the demons were gone. Well, not totally gone. They went into a herd of pigs. And now here I am, back to normal. No more crazy midnight screaming. No more running around in shame and anger. No more cutting. And I can’t stop thinking about Jesus. There was no one strong enough to stop those demons. There was no way to do it. And then there he was. And He did the impossible. With just a couple little words, they were gone. He saved me.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Women of Faith
Last weekend, I drove to Des Moines with a friend and attended the Women of Faith conference. I had a good time hanging out with Marie and enjoyed the conference too. I'd been one other time and hadn't really liked it, but this time I felt like God wanted me to go. I got a good deal on tickets, and a musician I really respect was supposed to be there (he didn't come which really disappointed me). It was good, anyway. I got to see Nicole C. Mullin with her teenage dance team. Also Mendisa who is freaking amazing. That girl can sing. And I was impressed with what she had to say too. I bought her CD and if you know me at all, you're probably laughing because I don't really like hip-hop at all. But she sang a song I really liked to a friend of hers who had lost her baby. So yeah.
Sandy Patti also talked and sang. I guess that was a privilidge, but I'm just not a big fan of that kind of music. She has a great voice.
We listened to different speakers talk about faith and God and what it's got to do with day-to-day life. I'll just share a few highlights of what was said, in case you're interested:
Andy Andrews: Become successful by asking good questions. Bad question="Is this wrong?" Good question = Is this a wise decision?
A mistake requires an apology. A decision requires forgiveness.
Everything you do really matters. (I'd give his proof of that, but it would take too long).
LIsa Whelchel: She talked about good friendships and learning how to share life and connect as an adult. There is a diference between being transparent and being vulnerable.
Sandy Patti: Sometimes when we think God is saying no to your dream, he isn't. He's just saying yes to the dream He has for you.
Patsy Clairmont: God's principles will deepen your desire and ability to follow Him, and as you live them out, your ability to find those principles and apply them to your life will grow.
People matter. You don't know what you do that might affect someone, but everything you do matters.
If you have a girl, you give her a tiara and a tu-tu. If you have a boy, you give him a puppy and a sailor's suit.
Well. That's about all I guess. I recommend the conference if you ever have a chance to go. You wouldn't regret it.
Sandy Patti also talked and sang. I guess that was a privilidge, but I'm just not a big fan of that kind of music. She has a great voice.
We listened to different speakers talk about faith and God and what it's got to do with day-to-day life. I'll just share a few highlights of what was said, in case you're interested:
Andy Andrews: Become successful by asking good questions. Bad question="Is this wrong?" Good question = Is this a wise decision?
A mistake requires an apology. A decision requires forgiveness.
Everything you do really matters. (I'd give his proof of that, but it would take too long).
LIsa Whelchel: She talked about good friendships and learning how to share life and connect as an adult. There is a diference between being transparent and being vulnerable.
Sandy Patti: Sometimes when we think God is saying no to your dream, he isn't. He's just saying yes to the dream He has for you.
Patsy Clairmont: God's principles will deepen your desire and ability to follow Him, and as you live them out, your ability to find those principles and apply them to your life will grow.
People matter. You don't know what you do that might affect someone, but everything you do matters.
If you have a girl, you give her a tiara and a tu-tu. If you have a boy, you give him a puppy and a sailor's suit.
Well. That's about all I guess. I recommend the conference if you ever have a chance to go. You wouldn't regret it.
Monday, March 08, 2010
Why I Blog
In ninth grade, I met a Bible college student in a chat room. We eventually started emailing each other and became really good friends. For a while I felt like he was my only friend (perhaps unhealthy, but it got me through). If you know me well, you've heard me talk about Brian and the impact he had on my life. We eventually met in real life and stayed in contact. When he got engaged I started emailing his wife too, and it's been pretty cool to stay in touch through the years. In some ways, I still feel like Brian knows me better than most of my friends.
I don't hang out in chat rooms anymore (RIP Yackety Chat) and haven't for years. I stopped doing IM chat too because I hate how long it takes to have a conversation and I don't have a lot of spare time to sit at the computer anymore these days. I don't randomly facebook request people just so I can get to know them. I'm a housewife with a husband and kids and friends and I don't feel like I need to. My life is nice and stable.
But I've recently met a new friend in cyberspace. She's really cool and insightful and talented at writing (among other things). She has an interesting life, and I met her through blogging. It's kind of neat. We read each others' blogs and comment on them. She reminds me of friends I had in high school who don't talk to me anymore, and I like the openness there is in meeting a stranger and not having to put up pretenses because it really can't hurt you to be yourself when the other person can't even see your face.
A few years ago, I met another lady because of my blog too. She found me because she'd been researching my blood clotting factors and stillbirths. She'd lost a baby around the same time as me, and we started emailing. I love having another Factor V Leiden friend.
What can I say? I like meeting people over the interenet. I don't go out of my way to do it anymore, but if something falls in my lap, I'm pretty happy to pursue it (within reason). Technology is a fabulous thing when we use it to build each other up and encourage our lives.
That's not actually the primary reason I blog, but I do find it to be a very enjoyable side effect. Two other reasons I blog:
Stay in touch with people I don't get to see often. Well, at least they are in touch with my life. I get to check up on friends who are serving God in other countries, which is probably the best way for me to keep updated with them.
Hone writing skills I used to journal all the time. I'd fill notebooks and those leather-bound diaries that look awesome at Barnes and Nobel. Unfortunately, time and not having a desk space of my own have diminished that. (In fact, I shouldn't actually be doing this right now). I heard that Earnest Hemmingway (not positive it was him but some famous writer) taught a class, and he'd have his students spend the whole hour writing. He'd suggest doing it every day because, in some ways, it is a skill that can be practiced and built. I'm sort of out of creative juices lately, but blogging is a good way for me to practice articulating my thoughts without any pressure of deadlines or whatever.
Encouragement to others I always hope someone who needs to read something I've written will stumble upon this page and be uplifted. I don't know how often that happens, but I think it does. I think that's why I've met the couple of gals that I have. It's not that I think I have a lot to share that's deep or meaningful or useful. But sometimes even lame things can become relevant to someone's life.
Well, that's enough talking now. I have to catch up on my Bible studies. Back to real life.
I don't hang out in chat rooms anymore (RIP Yackety Chat) and haven't for years. I stopped doing IM chat too because I hate how long it takes to have a conversation and I don't have a lot of spare time to sit at the computer anymore these days. I don't randomly facebook request people just so I can get to know them. I'm a housewife with a husband and kids and friends and I don't feel like I need to. My life is nice and stable.
But I've recently met a new friend in cyberspace. She's really cool and insightful and talented at writing (among other things). She has an interesting life, and I met her through blogging. It's kind of neat. We read each others' blogs and comment on them. She reminds me of friends I had in high school who don't talk to me anymore, and I like the openness there is in meeting a stranger and not having to put up pretenses because it really can't hurt you to be yourself when the other person can't even see your face.
A few years ago, I met another lady because of my blog too. She found me because she'd been researching my blood clotting factors and stillbirths. She'd lost a baby around the same time as me, and we started emailing. I love having another Factor V Leiden friend.
What can I say? I like meeting people over the interenet. I don't go out of my way to do it anymore, but if something falls in my lap, I'm pretty happy to pursue it (within reason). Technology is a fabulous thing when we use it to build each other up and encourage our lives.
That's not actually the primary reason I blog, but I do find it to be a very enjoyable side effect. Two other reasons I blog:
Stay in touch with people I don't get to see often. Well, at least they are in touch with my life. I get to check up on friends who are serving God in other countries, which is probably the best way for me to keep updated with them.
Hone writing skills I used to journal all the time. I'd fill notebooks and those leather-bound diaries that look awesome at Barnes and Nobel. Unfortunately, time and not having a desk space of my own have diminished that. (In fact, I shouldn't actually be doing this right now). I heard that Earnest Hemmingway (not positive it was him but some famous writer) taught a class, and he'd have his students spend the whole hour writing. He'd suggest doing it every day because, in some ways, it is a skill that can be practiced and built. I'm sort of out of creative juices lately, but blogging is a good way for me to practice articulating my thoughts without any pressure of deadlines or whatever.
Encouragement to others I always hope someone who needs to read something I've written will stumble upon this page and be uplifted. I don't know how often that happens, but I think it does. I think that's why I've met the couple of gals that I have. It's not that I think I have a lot to share that's deep or meaningful or useful. But sometimes even lame things can become relevant to someone's life.
Well, that's enough talking now. I have to catch up on my Bible studies. Back to real life.
Monday, March 01, 2010
Driving the Psalms
Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. Psalm 119:105
A couple weeks ago, I went down to visit my sister in Tennessee. I enjoyed beautiful weather and great hiking and good company of college kids. I had a really great time.
Driving home, I hit a little snag called a snow storm. What a rude awakening from the lovely weekend. It felt like life was saying, "Welcome back to reality".
The snowstorm made for terrible driving conditions. terrible. Some of the worst roads I'd seen in my whole life. I clutched the steering wheel, white-knuckled for most of the way home, barely able to see ten feet in front of me. Waiting for a plow or a sand truck, but not finding one. Being passed by people not smart enough to know the danger(or with better tires than mine).
Fresh in my mind was something the director of a play we saw while in Tennessee had said: "I see life as us waking up in a dark room, and in the distance, there's a door and there's light pouring out from the door, and a hand reaching for us. The hand is God, and when we choose to grab on to it, the rest of our life is us moving closer to that light."
That was a paraphrase, but I liked what he said. So, as I drove, I thought about God being light and how badly I needed light at that time. How those headlights, even on high beams, were barely enough to get me through. But the light was there, leading me on. Behind me, darkness and slick furrowed roads. Ahead, light, and the hope of Iowa, where they actually know how to treat/plow the highways.
Just like walking in life. I press forward with the Light ahead of me, surrounded by darkness on a treacherous path. Without the Light, surely I would lose my way. Surely I would die in a ditch, unnoticed by the rest of the world. Behind me, darkness. Ahead, the hope of Glory. The light of day. Clinging to that hand of God tighter every time I stumble. Closer to the light each time.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
the Portion of My Inheritance
In my small gruop we're reading a book called "Becoming a Woman of Prayer" by Cynthia Heald. So far it's been good. It's motivation to pray more and increase the effectiveness of my prayer life. Last week one of the things she talked about was praying using God's word. I've heard about it before, but she shared how she would usually find a verse that applied to her life and commit to praying it throughout the year. I liked that idea, so my friends and I decided to find verses for ourselves to memorize and pray and apply to our lives.
I hadn't found anything like I expected to happen. Me and God are on fairly whimsical terms usually, and I was hoping it would lay down in my lap like happens sometimes, but it didn't. So today i went looking. I went to Proverbs and thought I'd check the day of the month. It's the seventeenth, but Proverbs 17 wasn't really weighty or meaningful. Then I went to Psalm 17 thinking what the heck. While Iw as reading it, I realized it's actually only the 16th. Feeling like that meant something, I read Psalm 16. what do you know. It was there.
You O Lord are the porition of my inheritance and my cup; You maintain my lot. The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; Yes, I have a good ineheritance. I will bless the Lord who has given me counsel; my heart also instructs me in the night seasons. I have set the Lord always before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.
Therefore my heart is glad and my glory rejoices; My flesh also will rest in hope. For you will not leave my soul in Sheol, norw ill you allow your holy one to see corruption. You will show me the path of life. In your presence is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures evermore.
What a great passage to keep my heart focused on heaven and God. There are so many things to pray for myself and others in this verse. I love how it is full of gratitude and hope, things that I often need more of.
I could elaborate on how fitting this whole thing is for me right now, but I won't. I just like it. I have found myself so content in Christ this year, so full of peace. The first verses I wrote there express my gratitude so well. I have a good inheritance.
Maybe you can join this challenge with me. Find a verse that you want to pray for yourself this year and share it. I'll pray for you also. we might be surprised at what God does.
I hadn't found anything like I expected to happen. Me and God are on fairly whimsical terms usually, and I was hoping it would lay down in my lap like happens sometimes, but it didn't. So today i went looking. I went to Proverbs and thought I'd check the day of the month. It's the seventeenth, but Proverbs 17 wasn't really weighty or meaningful. Then I went to Psalm 17 thinking what the heck. While Iw as reading it, I realized it's actually only the 16th. Feeling like that meant something, I read Psalm 16. what do you know. It was there.
You O Lord are the porition of my inheritance and my cup; You maintain my lot. The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; Yes, I have a good ineheritance. I will bless the Lord who has given me counsel; my heart also instructs me in the night seasons. I have set the Lord always before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.
Therefore my heart is glad and my glory rejoices; My flesh also will rest in hope. For you will not leave my soul in Sheol, norw ill you allow your holy one to see corruption. You will show me the path of life. In your presence is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures evermore.
What a great passage to keep my heart focused on heaven and God. There are so many things to pray for myself and others in this verse. I love how it is full of gratitude and hope, things that I often need more of.
I could elaborate on how fitting this whole thing is for me right now, but I won't. I just like it. I have found myself so content in Christ this year, so full of peace. The first verses I wrote there express my gratitude so well. I have a good inheritance.
Maybe you can join this challenge with me. Find a verse that you want to pray for yourself this year and share it. I'll pray for you also. we might be surprised at what God does.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Back to the Bat
Anyway, looking back has been fun, remembering all of my craziness and depth and struggles. But, one theme is unavoidable. Batman.
I've written about why I love him so much before. If you know me long, you know, I just love Batman. It's inexplicable. I'd forgotten until I looked through my emails how much I used to identify things from my life. In high school, my best friend Twan was Robin and I, of course, was Batman. We usually bought each other action figures of our characters. I acquired a most awesome shirt which I still wear, along with various other Bat-belia.
In college, we called our room the batcave and made a creative phone message to identify ourselves as such. Naomi was Alfred, Kathrine was Robin, and I, of course, as always, was Batman. I think that all started when, one night, I wrapped myself up in a black blanket and climbed around the bunks bed and dressers, singing the theme song from the animated series. I used to be really awesome. I think Naomi and Katherine worried from that moment on.
I used to call my house the bat-cave. Whatever apartment we lived in was a new bat-cave. When I had a sweet black car (RIP Merkur XR4TI) I referred to it as my bat-mobile.
I'm going to start infiltrating our lifestyle with Batman titles and names. This house is officially the Bat Cave once again. (Don't let the pink clothes, pastel curtians, and cheerfully colored baby toys fool you!) I'll also be taking suggestions for hero avatars for my children. Everyone in this family needs to identify themselves as someone from a comic book. (In case you're wondering, Daniel is Superman).
BTW, i found this site while searching for images and thought it was amusing.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
The Woj
so today, because I was wearing slippers without socks, my mind wandered back to high school and through some strange rabbit trails. I'm going to share them with you because I think they're funny.
You know the band Leonard Skinnerd? They named themselves after a teacher in their high school who was notorious for enforcing the "no long hair" policy in the 70's (note: I do not listen to Leonard SKinnerd and I am not a fan, except for their name). I think it's hilarious that they did that. I've always thought about what high school teacher I'd name a band after if I were in their position.
There was Bernhard, famous for yelling at us, "If you put your head down and fall asleep in my class, it's like saying 'Screw YOU Mrs. Bernhard! I have my own agenda!" I think that quote was directed at me, even though I actually wasn't asleep as she supposed. So the agenda came from that, and me and my friends started a list of things to put on our agenda, which included spreading sparkle-butt-syndrome, starting an Amish college with a Peaceful Amish farmer mascot, and various other ridiculously unrealistic things.
There was also Kriegal. She filled in for our english teacher sophomore year. She had us do trust falls in our speech class. Enough said. (Frizzy eighties hair, pink eye shadow, too relational, thought my friend Kim was a druggie.)
My favorite character out of high school, though, who would definitely be first choice for a band name (of course, behind "my own agenda") is The Woj. I mean, his name was actually Wojotowitz, (wa-toe-its), but for obvious reasons, we called him The Woj. And wouldn't that be a good band name? He was one of those emotional teachers who wanted everyone to talk about their feelings and tell stories about their lives in class. It was AP English, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to pass any test with the information I acquired (or rather, didn't) that year. (Granted, I did spend about half of it out studying for academic decathlon with the rest of my team). i was privileged enough to have him as the coach for Academic Decathlon that year. It was because I was in his class that he asked me on the team, anyway. It was fun. But he was weird. Not gonna lie. He was a diabetic smoker who I think was a little on the hypochondriac side as well. He hung out at a bar called Leonardo's down the road, and there was a rumor that he was gay. I never made a conclusion either way, and didn't care either (although he did have the lisp and he liked to hold his ssssses out a little longer than necessary).
I once spent a half hour in his hotel room practicing my speech for ac-dec. I think he smoked three packs of cigs in that time. Wojo always scratched the chalkboard by accident when he tried to write stuff, and he started most classes off with making us write in journals about things and discussing it in class. There were a few funny moments from class, but I won't mention them for time sake. If you're really excited to hear those stories, you could just email me or something.
My brother said he was really talented with theater things. He was in charge of all of the smart kids at school and assemblies and national honor society. He was also one of the counselors. He once got me into an art class without having taken the prerequisite because he had the power to, and he wanted me to not have biology homework so I could study for ac-dec more. Because he was cool like that.
He also wore sandals year-round, even though he had somewhat gross-looking toes. Which is what brought on this whole stream-of-conscious that you are now reading. Because it started with me wearing no socks in my loafers. Which he also did.
I don't know if he's still at my high school. I think he is, still coaching ac-dec too (and, for the record, the year I participated was the first time in 10 years that we didn't make it to nationals... But it wasn't my fault, promise). The thing is, I liked him. He was personable and sarcastic, and I think he actually knew how smart I was, which didn't happen too often. He seemed to know me pretty well, even though I never offered any information about myself and I wasn't the kind of kid the teachers sat around in the lounge talking about. So that's why I'd name my band "The Woj". Because, eccentricities aside, he was a pretty good teacher (unlike the aforementioned ones).
Hopefully no one does a google search for any of these names! I might get myself in trouble. :)
You know the band Leonard Skinnerd? They named themselves after a teacher in their high school who was notorious for enforcing the "no long hair" policy in the 70's (note: I do not listen to Leonard SKinnerd and I am not a fan, except for their name). I think it's hilarious that they did that. I've always thought about what high school teacher I'd name a band after if I were in their position.
There was Bernhard, famous for yelling at us, "If you put your head down and fall asleep in my class, it's like saying 'Screw YOU Mrs. Bernhard! I have my own agenda!" I think that quote was directed at me, even though I actually wasn't asleep as she supposed. So the agenda came from that, and me and my friends started a list of things to put on our agenda, which included spreading sparkle-butt-syndrome, starting an Amish college with a Peaceful Amish farmer mascot, and various other ridiculously unrealistic things.
There was also Kriegal. She filled in for our english teacher sophomore year. She had us do trust falls in our speech class. Enough said. (Frizzy eighties hair, pink eye shadow, too relational, thought my friend Kim was a druggie.)
My favorite character out of high school, though, who would definitely be first choice for a band name (of course, behind "my own agenda") is The Woj. I mean, his name was actually Wojotowitz, (wa-toe-its), but for obvious reasons, we called him The Woj. And wouldn't that be a good band name? He was one of those emotional teachers who wanted everyone to talk about their feelings and tell stories about their lives in class. It was AP English, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to pass any test with the information I acquired (or rather, didn't) that year. (Granted, I did spend about half of it out studying for academic decathlon with the rest of my team). i was privileged enough to have him as the coach for Academic Decathlon that year. It was because I was in his class that he asked me on the team, anyway. It was fun. But he was weird. Not gonna lie. He was a diabetic smoker who I think was a little on the hypochondriac side as well. He hung out at a bar called Leonardo's down the road, and there was a rumor that he was gay. I never made a conclusion either way, and didn't care either (although he did have the lisp and he liked to hold his ssssses out a little longer than necessary).
I once spent a half hour in his hotel room practicing my speech for ac-dec. I think he smoked three packs of cigs in that time. Wojo always scratched the chalkboard by accident when he tried to write stuff, and he started most classes off with making us write in journals about things and discussing it in class. There were a few funny moments from class, but I won't mention them for time sake. If you're really excited to hear those stories, you could just email me or something.
My brother said he was really talented with theater things. He was in charge of all of the smart kids at school and assemblies and national honor society. He was also one of the counselors. He once got me into an art class without having taken the prerequisite because he had the power to, and he wanted me to not have biology homework so I could study for ac-dec more. Because he was cool like that.
He also wore sandals year-round, even though he had somewhat gross-looking toes. Which is what brought on this whole stream-of-conscious that you are now reading. Because it started with me wearing no socks in my loafers. Which he also did.
I don't know if he's still at my high school. I think he is, still coaching ac-dec too (and, for the record, the year I participated was the first time in 10 years that we didn't make it to nationals... But it wasn't my fault, promise). The thing is, I liked him. He was personable and sarcastic, and I think he actually knew how smart I was, which didn't happen too often. He seemed to know me pretty well, even though I never offered any information about myself and I wasn't the kind of kid the teachers sat around in the lounge talking about. So that's why I'd name my band "The Woj". Because, eccentricities aside, he was a pretty good teacher (unlike the aforementioned ones).
Hopefully no one does a google search for any of these names! I might get myself in trouble. :)
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Joy and Sorrow
"Joy and sorrow are this ocean/and in their every ebb and flow/now the Lord a door has opened/that all hell could never close/here I'm tested and made worthy/tossed about/lifted up/in the reckless raging fury that they call the love of God" ~ Rich Mullins "The Love of God"
Thursday is Jayna's first birthday. Friday will be Grace's 2nd birthday. I'm not sure you call it a birthday, but I guess I will for the sake of no better word. I love that this is the case, and I hate it all at once. I'm glad the happy milestone comes before the sad one. In a way, it helps me remember the sad one more. It always brings forth such a slew of emotions. Unexpected ones.
The mind is magical almost, in how it lives in cycles and recalls things subconsciously. Before I even realized how close the anniversary of Grace's death was, I sat in the car one night mulling it over, remembering that day so vividly. Then I realized that her birthday was two weeks away. I missed her some, thinking about what life would be like right now if things had gone according to the plan (lower case P).
Then I thought about what kind of cake I needed to make for Jayna and how to celebrate her birthday. And I thanked God for the joy and sorrow that tangle together so hopelessly, that there is absolutely no way I can remove one from the other. Without Grace, there would be no Jayna. Without Jayna, there would be a resounding hollowness. I think that's why I relate with the way Rich described God's love. Reckless and raging fury. It's inescapable when you know Him. It burns in your heart and holds you when you cry. It reminds you of the good and the bad. It fills you with joy, even on cold days when the sun won't shine. It redeems and recaptures and drags you along through every moment, holding on tighter than you ever could.
How strange it is when the Lord chooses to redeem a tragedy, rolling over the sorrow with a new joy. How beautiful, and how mysterious. How wonderful.
Thursday is Jayna's first birthday. Friday will be Grace's 2nd birthday. I'm not sure you call it a birthday, but I guess I will for the sake of no better word. I love that this is the case, and I hate it all at once. I'm glad the happy milestone comes before the sad one. In a way, it helps me remember the sad one more. It always brings forth such a slew of emotions. Unexpected ones.
The mind is magical almost, in how it lives in cycles and recalls things subconsciously. Before I even realized how close the anniversary of Grace's death was, I sat in the car one night mulling it over, remembering that day so vividly. Then I realized that her birthday was two weeks away. I missed her some, thinking about what life would be like right now if things had gone according to the plan (lower case P).
Then I thought about what kind of cake I needed to make for Jayna and how to celebrate her birthday. And I thanked God for the joy and sorrow that tangle together so hopelessly, that there is absolutely no way I can remove one from the other. Without Grace, there would be no Jayna. Without Jayna, there would be a resounding hollowness. I think that's why I relate with the way Rich described God's love. Reckless and raging fury. It's inescapable when you know Him. It burns in your heart and holds you when you cry. It reminds you of the good and the bad. It fills you with joy, even on cold days when the sun won't shine. It redeems and recaptures and drags you along through every moment, holding on tighter than you ever could.
How strange it is when the Lord chooses to redeem a tragedy, rolling over the sorrow with a new joy. How beautiful, and how mysterious. How wonderful.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The Evolution of Photos
Over Christmas break, my mom and my sister went through the giant tote full of old pictures and tried to sort them out. The first step was throwing away old pictures that they no longer cared about/duplicates/unnneeded ones. Then they made piles of whose were whose. I helped them one of the days, and had a really fun time looking at my past. I was a skinny little round-faced girl with stringy blond hair who wore tee-shirts that didn't fit and old blue jeans most of the time. We had a dog named Barney and an awesome goat named Princess.
The pictures from my teenage years are less than attractive. I had curly hair and big glasses (which, by the way, were just as stylish as anyone's). A lot of the early high school ones are with my friend Bethany (Who, I was told looked like my sister). Later high school ones are with Daniel.
This week I decided to update some of my frames around the house. I went through some a lot of photos to select the right ones (and, the never ending process still isn't complete). It's funny how the last five years have changed so much. First, we had fun pictures from our college/high school years hanging. There were a lot of pictures of friends and fun events.
Then, it turned into a lot of wedding photos from friends' weddings. Now, we're upgrading to baby photos.
Sometimes I wish I could just pick out a picture and do the Mary Poppins thing and just jump inside and resume life from there. i wish I could go back to dancing with my dog barney while I wait for the bus, or dressing up in stupid costumes with the neighbor kids, or marching band, or awesome college hang outs. It would be fun. But I think at some point, I'll look at the pictures from today and think the same thing. "Oh, remember when our kids were all little and we did this?" I hope that i cherish these times when I'm older. I also hope they go by soon. Maybe that's part of being an eternal being trapped in a finite body within time. Maybe that's why I can't wait for heaven.
One of my very favorite songs is called "Old Clothes" by randy Stonehill. I sing it to myself pretty often, especially when I travel down memory lane with keepsakes and pictures.
Toys from my childhood
old photographs
left in this dusty old suitcase
things we once cherished
are lost with the past
Seek out the treasure that always will last
So I'm packing up my old clothes
with my old and foolish ways
they just don't seem to fit me
anymore
I see the light of morning
with different eyes today
and I'm giving my tomorrows to the Lord
So many heroes
who never came through
too many roads going nowhere
Jesus was whispering
I still love you.
With a love that makes
all things new.
So I'm packing up my old clothes
with my old and foolish ways
they just don't seem to fit me
anymore
I see the light of Jesus
with different eyes today
and I'm giving my tomorrows to the Lord
This week I decided to update some of my frames around the house. I went through some a lot of photos to select the right ones (and, the never ending process still isn't complete). It's funny how the last five years have changed so much. First, we had fun pictures from our college/high school years hanging. There were a lot of pictures of friends and fun events.
Then, it turned into a lot of wedding photos from friends' weddings. Now, we're upgrading to baby photos.
Sometimes I wish I could just pick out a picture and do the Mary Poppins thing and just jump inside and resume life from there. i wish I could go back to dancing with my dog barney while I wait for the bus, or dressing up in stupid costumes with the neighbor kids, or marching band, or awesome college hang outs. It would be fun. But I think at some point, I'll look at the pictures from today and think the same thing. "Oh, remember when our kids were all little and we did this?" I hope that i cherish these times when I'm older. I also hope they go by soon. Maybe that's part of being an eternal being trapped in a finite body within time. Maybe that's why I can't wait for heaven.
One of my very favorite songs is called "Old Clothes" by randy Stonehill. I sing it to myself pretty often, especially when I travel down memory lane with keepsakes and pictures.
Toys from my childhood
old photographs
left in this dusty old suitcase
things we once cherished
are lost with the past
Seek out the treasure that always will last
So I'm packing up my old clothes
with my old and foolish ways
they just don't seem to fit me
anymore
I see the light of morning
with different eyes today
and I'm giving my tomorrows to the Lord
So many heroes
who never came through
too many roads going nowhere
Jesus was whispering
I still love you.
With a love that makes
all things new.
So I'm packing up my old clothes
with my old and foolish ways
they just don't seem to fit me
anymore
I see the light of Jesus
with different eyes today
and I'm giving my tomorrows to the Lord
Thursday, December 31, 2009
2009 Favorites
Well I'm no film critic or editor or anything, but I thought I'd wrap up this year by sharing my favorite things from different categories. I'm sure you're all very intersted to know.
Fiction book - "Christy" By Catherine Marshall. My faithful readers will know I liked it a lot. It was by far the best fiction work I read this year (even though it's based on an actual person and events, it's still fiction). I did read more than two books this year, too! I actually read more than 20, which might be a record for me since fifth grade when I actually had time. It's the story of a well-bred young woman who goes to work as a teacher in Appalachia. It takes place at the turn of the century, and is filled with adventure, romance, love, and spiritual insights.
Nonfiction book - "Under the Overpass". Account of a young man who became homeless for most of a year, just so he could learn about their plight and understand that part of our country better. From a Christian perspective, it was convicting and enlightening.
TV Show - "In Plain Sight" (USA) This did not come out in 2009, but we began watching it this year. It's about a US Marshall in charge of witness protection, and all of the cases she deals with. Well-written, with ends and plots that keep you guessing even when you think you've got them figured out. I like the dynamics she has between her co-workers. I could probably do without her family life, but it does develop her character better. (Warning, I wouldn't call this a "family friendly" show, but it is fairly clean after the first couple of episodes). Daniel and I both really like it, so much that we watched both seasons within a couple of weeks. It's a summer show, and last season ended with a huge cliffhanger, so now we can't wait.
Movie - This was not a year of movies for us. It's hard to get away. I enjoyed "Up" and "Star Trek" the most. Right now I don't recall others that I saw in the theater. Movies just aren't as big of a part of my life as they used to be.
CD - Steven Curtis Chapman's "Beauty Will Rise". Basically, this is Steven's own journey through his grief after losing his 5-year-old daughter. It's hard to listen to, but at the same time, I loved it. Sort of like putting peroxide on an open wound. It hurts, but it heals. I love the honesty and purity in his words, and the hope that they leave behind. Probably this won't become one of his big award-winning albums, but it will definitely be cherished.
Bible Verse - Isaiah 43:18, 19, 21 "Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I shall do a new thing; now it shall spring forth. shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert... to give drink to my people, my chosen. This people I have formed for myself."
If you're a reader of my blog, you know the significance this verse held through my pregnancy. Now that Jayna is here, I can revel in the "New thing" God has done.
We are waiting outside of the door, looking for God in every day life, reaching for Him and experiencing the pieces that we can, waiting... "New things" and "former things" and ways to remember God have become a part of my life that I cherish. I hope that 2010 is full of new things for you, as well as for me.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Christmas Highlights
[editor's warning: skip this paragraph if you aren't intersted in reading about my meidcal conditions] If you haven't heard yet, I had surgery on Tuesday. To make a long story short, the doctor wanted to do a laparoscopy to explore possible causes of pain I've been having. They've treated it and scanned it and come up empty, so on Tuesday he went in with his lighted scope to look around. He cut out a bunch of scar tissue that had bonded to muscle tissue and probably organs. He also discovered that I have endometriosis, which you can google if you're super interested in knowing more about. Basically it means that my pelvic organs have the potential to experience a lot of pain and other annoying side effects. Fortunately, there is treatment for it (part of which he did by cutting them away and cautarizing the areas).
I didn't want this to be a post complaining about my ailments, though. The surgery spout was to tell you that, because of it, I have been forced to slow down and rest a lot the last fwe days. It's been nice for me to have a little time to think about Christmas. So, let me share a few highlights from my thought life and real life as well.
Kids make Christmas fun. It's sweet to give gifts to your spouse. Giving gifts to your kids is a whole new level of happiness and joy. Looking at Christmas lights is so exciting. The eagerness over cookies and candy, the excitement of their waiting and opening new presents. This year Arlene is old enough to express her thoughts and feelings, and it's been great. It's so cute.
I like my new computer. Daniel found me a good deal on a net book and gave it to me the day of my surgery. It is portable and easier to lug around, therefore allowing me more opportunities to write and play games. :) Technology is fantastic.
Word of the Father now in flesh appearing. Every year some old carol hits me in a new way. Since Christmas is all about the incarnation, God coming to earth as a man to live among us, the lyrics usually have something to do with that truth penetrating my heart yet again.
This year, two songs found new meaning in my heart. Joy to the World and Hark the Harold Angels Sing. "God and Sinners reconciled" Wow. Jesus' coming rearranged the entire God concept. He didn't change, but our ability to know Him did. He came and made His blessings flow "far as the curse is found". I love what that means. His being here gave us a way to overcome the curse of man. One day, every nation will "prove the glories of His righteousness, and wonders of His love." And, I will be among those singing with the angels "Joyful, all you nations rise! Join the triumph of the skies!" (Insidently, that song is actually about Christ's second coming, but that's part of advent, isn't it!)
Advent Conspiracy This year our church participated in advent conspiracy (see previous post). The presentation of this idea got me in the mood to give more than I wanted to, to give not only out of abundance but also out of what I would normally reserve for myself. I stretched myself a lot. My favorite chance to give came as a surprise when friends of ours who were visiting invited us to go and "bless a family". This family has been unemployed for a year and have TEN kids. We went to the store and picked up two cart loads of food. Their family had adopted this family and instead of giving gifts to each other, bought gifts for the ten kids and the mom and dad. I didn't meet the family. We sneaked into their house and dropped the food off in the kitchen and the gifts under the tree. It was great. One of the girls in the family asked her mom who did it, and her mom said, "Jesus did. He answered our prayers for food". Then the little girl spun around with a box of cereal and said, "Jesus loves me enough to give me Fruit Loops!" That's what it's all about, man.
Glory to God in the Highest! We listened to a sermon by JOhn Piper given to evangelical pastors. He preached about the Glory of God, and how we as humans can revel in it. How it is intregal to knowing Him and experiencing Him. How it is God's ultimate goal to glorify Himself. I was hit hard with that truth, becasue frankly, I'd rather think about God and His relationship with me and what He does for me and for man. But the more we think about what He does to glorify Himself, naturally we see what He has done for man through the course of history. I listened to Todd Agnew's Christmas CD (see previous post) and heard the angels song right after hearing John Piper's sermon. I couldn't keep from dancing and singing GLORY, GLORY IN THE HIGHEST! Of all the ways God chose to glorify Himself, sending Christ here to die for us and give us real and abundant life was the HIGHEST. Nothing would top it. Nothing ever will.
Peace on Earth and good will to men. Peace fills my heart in these times as I reflect on God and His power and ultimate plan for the world. While everything looks like it is spinning out of control and getting worse and worse, He reigns. We don't understand all of His purposes, but because of Jesus, He lives in our hearts. We can commune with Him now, and for eternity.
So. That's what's been on my mind these last few weeks. Hoepfully my words explained things well enough that you could understand and nothing came across as bad theology. I wish peace to all of you also--the peace Jesus left us. "Not as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." He will return for us and heaven and nature will sing!
I didn't want this to be a post complaining about my ailments, though. The surgery spout was to tell you that, because of it, I have been forced to slow down and rest a lot the last fwe days. It's been nice for me to have a little time to think about Christmas. So, let me share a few highlights from my thought life and real life as well.
Kids make Christmas fun. It's sweet to give gifts to your spouse. Giving gifts to your kids is a whole new level of happiness and joy. Looking at Christmas lights is so exciting. The eagerness over cookies and candy, the excitement of their waiting and opening new presents. This year Arlene is old enough to express her thoughts and feelings, and it's been great. It's so cute.
I like my new computer. Daniel found me a good deal on a net book and gave it to me the day of my surgery. It is portable and easier to lug around, therefore allowing me more opportunities to write and play games. :) Technology is fantastic.
Word of the Father now in flesh appearing. Every year some old carol hits me in a new way. Since Christmas is all about the incarnation, God coming to earth as a man to live among us, the lyrics usually have something to do with that truth penetrating my heart yet again.
This year, two songs found new meaning in my heart. Joy to the World and Hark the Harold Angels Sing. "God and Sinners reconciled" Wow. Jesus' coming rearranged the entire God concept. He didn't change, but our ability to know Him did. He came and made His blessings flow "far as the curse is found". I love what that means. His being here gave us a way to overcome the curse of man. One day, every nation will "prove the glories of His righteousness, and wonders of His love." And, I will be among those singing with the angels "Joyful, all you nations rise! Join the triumph of the skies!" (Insidently, that song is actually about Christ's second coming, but that's part of advent, isn't it!)
Advent Conspiracy This year our church participated in advent conspiracy (see previous post). The presentation of this idea got me in the mood to give more than I wanted to, to give not only out of abundance but also out of what I would normally reserve for myself. I stretched myself a lot. My favorite chance to give came as a surprise when friends of ours who were visiting invited us to go and "bless a family". This family has been unemployed for a year and have TEN kids. We went to the store and picked up two cart loads of food. Their family had adopted this family and instead of giving gifts to each other, bought gifts for the ten kids and the mom and dad. I didn't meet the family. We sneaked into their house and dropped the food off in the kitchen and the gifts under the tree. It was great. One of the girls in the family asked her mom who did it, and her mom said, "Jesus did. He answered our prayers for food". Then the little girl spun around with a box of cereal and said, "Jesus loves me enough to give me Fruit Loops!" That's what it's all about, man.
Glory to God in the Highest! We listened to a sermon by JOhn Piper given to evangelical pastors. He preached about the Glory of God, and how we as humans can revel in it. How it is intregal to knowing Him and experiencing Him. How it is God's ultimate goal to glorify Himself. I was hit hard with that truth, becasue frankly, I'd rather think about God and His relationship with me and what He does for me and for man. But the more we think about what He does to glorify Himself, naturally we see what He has done for man through the course of history. I listened to Todd Agnew's Christmas CD (see previous post) and heard the angels song right after hearing John Piper's sermon. I couldn't keep from dancing and singing GLORY, GLORY IN THE HIGHEST! Of all the ways God chose to glorify Himself, sending Christ here to die for us and give us real and abundant life was the HIGHEST. Nothing would top it. Nothing ever will.
Peace on Earth and good will to men. Peace fills my heart in these times as I reflect on God and His power and ultimate plan for the world. While everything looks like it is spinning out of control and getting worse and worse, He reigns. We don't understand all of His purposes, but because of Jesus, He lives in our hearts. We can commune with Him now, and for eternity.
So. That's what's been on my mind these last few weeks. Hoepfully my words explained things well enough that you could understand and nothing came across as bad theology. I wish peace to all of you also--the peace Jesus left us. "Not as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." He will return for us and heaven and nature will sing!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Exmas
XMAS AND CHRISTMAS
A lost Chapter from Herodotus
From "God in the Dock" by C.S. Lewis copyright 1970
And beyond this there lies in the ocean, turned toward the west and north, the island of Niatirb which Hecataeus indeed declares to be the same size and shape as Sicily, but it is larger, though in calling it triangular a man would not miss the mark. It is densely inhabited by men who wear clothes not very different from the other barbarians who occupy the north-western parts of Europe though they do not agree with them in language. These islanders, surpassing all the men of whom we know in patience and endurance, use the following customs.
In the middle of winter when fogs and rains most abound, they have a great festival which they call Exmas, and for fifty days days they prepare for it in the fashion I shall describe. First of all, every citizen is obliged to send to each of his friends and relations a square piece of hard paper stamped with a picture, which in their speech is called an Exmas-card. But the pictures represent birds sitting on branches, or trees with a dark green prickly leaf, or else men in such garments as the Niatirbians believe that their ancestors wore two hundred yes ago riding in coaches such as their ancestors used, or houses with snow on their roofs. And the Niatirbians are unwilling to say that these pictures have to do with the festival, guarding (as I suppose) some sacred mystery. And because all men must send these cards the market-place is filled with the crowd of those buying them, so that there is great labour and weariness.
But having bought as many as they suppose to be sufficient, they return to their houses and find there the like cards with others have send to them. And when they find cards from any to whom they also have sent cards, they throw them away and give thanks to the gods that this labour at least is over for another year. But when they find cards from any to whom they have not sent, then they beat their breasts and wail and utter curses against the sender; and, having sufficiently lamented their misfortune, they put on their boots again and go out into the fog and rain and buy a card for him also. And let this account suffice about Exmas-cards.
They also send gifts to one another, suffering the same things about the gifts as about the cards, or even worse. For every citizen has to guess the value of the gift which every friend will send to him so that he may send one of equal value, whether he can afford it or not. And they buy as gifts for one another such things as no man ever bought for himself. For the sellers, understanding the custom, put for all kinds of trumpery, and whatever, being useless and ridiculous, they have been unable to sell throughout the year they now sell as an Exmas gift. And though the Niatirbians profess themselves to lack sufficient necessary things, such as metal, leather, wood and paper, yet an incredible quantity of these things is wasted every year, being made into gifts.
But during these fifty days the oldest, poorest and most miserable of the citizens put on false beards and red robes and walk about the market-place; being disguised (in my opinion) as Cronos. And the sellers of gifts no less than the purchasers become pale and weary, because of the crowds and the fog, so that any man who came into a Niatirbian city at this season would think some great public calamity had fallen on Niatirb. This fifty days of preparation is called in their barbarian speech the Exmas Rush.
But when the day of the festival comes, then most of the citizens, being exhausted with the "Rush", lie in bed till noon. But in the evening they eat five times as much supper as on other days and, crowning themselves with crowns of paper, they become intoxicated. And on the day after Exmas they are very grave, being internally disordered by the supper and the drinking and reckoning how much they have spent on gifts and on the wine. For wine is so dear among the Niatirbians that a man must swallow the worth of a talent before he is well intoxicated.
Such, then, are their customs about the Exmas. But the few among the Niatirbians have also a festival, separate and to themselves, called Crissmas, which is on the same day as Exmas. And those who keep Crissmas, doing the opposite to the majority of the Niatirbians, rise early on that day with shining faces and go before sunrise to certain temples where they partake of a sacred feast. And in most of the temples they set out images of a fair woman with a new-born child on her knees and certain animals and shepherds adoring the Child. (The reason of these images is given in a certain sacred story which I know but do not repeat.)
But I myself conversed with a priest in one of those temples and asked him why they kept Crissmas on the same day as Exmas; for it appeared to me inconvenient. But the priest replied, it is not lawful, O Stranger, for us to change the date of Crissmas, but would that Zeus would put it into the minds of the Niatirbians to keep Exmas at some other time or not to keep it at all. For Exmas and the Rush distract the minds of even of the few from sacred things. And we indeed are glad that men should make merry at Crissmas; but in Exmas, there is no merriment left. And when I asked him why they endured the Rush, he replied, "It is, O Stranger, a racket; using (as I suppose) the words of some oracle and speaking unintelligibly to me (for a racket is an instrument which the barbarians use in a game called tennis)."
But what Hecataeus says, that Exmas and Crissmas are the same, is not credible. For first, the pictures which are stamped on the Exmas cards have nothing to do with the sacred story which the priests tell about Crissmas. And second, the most part of the Niatirbians not believing the religion of the few, nevertheless send the gifts and cards and participate in the Rush and drink, wearing paper caps. But it is not likely that men, even being barbarians, should suffer so many and great things in honor of a god they do not believe in. And now, enough about Niatirb.
A lost Chapter from Herodotus
From "God in the Dock" by C.S. Lewis copyright 1970
And beyond this there lies in the ocean, turned toward the west and north, the island of Niatirb which Hecataeus indeed declares to be the same size and shape as Sicily, but it is larger, though in calling it triangular a man would not miss the mark. It is densely inhabited by men who wear clothes not very different from the other barbarians who occupy the north-western parts of Europe though they do not agree with them in language. These islanders, surpassing all the men of whom we know in patience and endurance, use the following customs.
In the middle of winter when fogs and rains most abound, they have a great festival which they call Exmas, and for fifty days days they prepare for it in the fashion I shall describe. First of all, every citizen is obliged to send to each of his friends and relations a square piece of hard paper stamped with a picture, which in their speech is called an Exmas-card. But the pictures represent birds sitting on branches, or trees with a dark green prickly leaf, or else men in such garments as the Niatirbians believe that their ancestors wore two hundred yes ago riding in coaches such as their ancestors used, or houses with snow on their roofs. And the Niatirbians are unwilling to say that these pictures have to do with the festival, guarding (as I suppose) some sacred mystery. And because all men must send these cards the market-place is filled with the crowd of those buying them, so that there is great labour and weariness.
But having bought as many as they suppose to be sufficient, they return to their houses and find there the like cards with others have send to them. And when they find cards from any to whom they also have sent cards, they throw them away and give thanks to the gods that this labour at least is over for another year. But when they find cards from any to whom they have not sent, then they beat their breasts and wail and utter curses against the sender; and, having sufficiently lamented their misfortune, they put on their boots again and go out into the fog and rain and buy a card for him also. And let this account suffice about Exmas-cards.
They also send gifts to one another, suffering the same things about the gifts as about the cards, or even worse. For every citizen has to guess the value of the gift which every friend will send to him so that he may send one of equal value, whether he can afford it or not. And they buy as gifts for one another such things as no man ever bought for himself. For the sellers, understanding the custom, put for all kinds of trumpery, and whatever, being useless and ridiculous, they have been unable to sell throughout the year they now sell as an Exmas gift. And though the Niatirbians profess themselves to lack sufficient necessary things, such as metal, leather, wood and paper, yet an incredible quantity of these things is wasted every year, being made into gifts.
But during these fifty days the oldest, poorest and most miserable of the citizens put on false beards and red robes and walk about the market-place; being disguised (in my opinion) as Cronos. And the sellers of gifts no less than the purchasers become pale and weary, because of the crowds and the fog, so that any man who came into a Niatirbian city at this season would think some great public calamity had fallen on Niatirb. This fifty days of preparation is called in their barbarian speech the Exmas Rush.
But when the day of the festival comes, then most of the citizens, being exhausted with the "Rush", lie in bed till noon. But in the evening they eat five times as much supper as on other days and, crowning themselves with crowns of paper, they become intoxicated. And on the day after Exmas they are very grave, being internally disordered by the supper and the drinking and reckoning how much they have spent on gifts and on the wine. For wine is so dear among the Niatirbians that a man must swallow the worth of a talent before he is well intoxicated.
Such, then, are their customs about the Exmas. But the few among the Niatirbians have also a festival, separate and to themselves, called Crissmas, which is on the same day as Exmas. And those who keep Crissmas, doing the opposite to the majority of the Niatirbians, rise early on that day with shining faces and go before sunrise to certain temples where they partake of a sacred feast. And in most of the temples they set out images of a fair woman with a new-born child on her knees and certain animals and shepherds adoring the Child. (The reason of these images is given in a certain sacred story which I know but do not repeat.)
But I myself conversed with a priest in one of those temples and asked him why they kept Crissmas on the same day as Exmas; for it appeared to me inconvenient. But the priest replied, it is not lawful, O Stranger, for us to change the date of Crissmas, but would that Zeus would put it into the minds of the Niatirbians to keep Exmas at some other time or not to keep it at all. For Exmas and the Rush distract the minds of even of the few from sacred things. And we indeed are glad that men should make merry at Crissmas; but in Exmas, there is no merriment left. And when I asked him why they endured the Rush, he replied, "It is, O Stranger, a racket; using (as I suppose) the words of some oracle and speaking unintelligibly to me (for a racket is an instrument which the barbarians use in a game called tennis)."
But what Hecataeus says, that Exmas and Crissmas are the same, is not credible. For first, the pictures which are stamped on the Exmas cards have nothing to do with the sacred story which the priests tell about Crissmas. And second, the most part of the Niatirbians not believing the religion of the few, nevertheless send the gifts and cards and participate in the Rush and drink, wearing paper caps. But it is not likely that men, even being barbarians, should suffer so many and great things in honor of a god they do not believe in. And now, enough about Niatirb.
Monday, December 14, 2009
My Friend Mark
Last week, a whole lot of people celebrated the anniversary of our youth pastor being at our church. He's been there for 17 years, which, if you know much about youth ministry, is pretty remarkable in and of itself. I sent him a note thanking him for being a part of my life, and this morning he replied. I've been thinking about him all day, remembering some awesome youth group moments and reflecting on the impact one person can have on a life, even with little interaction.
When I first started going to the church I attend now, I was a freshman in high school. We'd been asked to leave the church I'd grown up at. I was in a crisis of belief. Most of my friends there stopped talking to me and staying in touch with the ones who still wanted to be friends was hard since we didn't see each other that often. On top of that, I didn't really have good friends at school. I was insecure and awkward and really lonely. Mark, the youth pastor, did something that meant the world to me then. He noticed me. I hung around in my brother's shadow a lot that year, but Mark made an intentional effort to include me. He made me feel welcome at church, even though I didn't know anyone else. The guy in charge wanted me around, so I guess that was good enough.
As I became part of the group, I made a lot of great friends and had chances to serve and be in leadership as I grew. I really enjoyed going on retreats and summer trips and hanging out with my church friends. We did so many fun things, and Mark was part of almost all of them. He was always available to listen, always careful to speak and usually said something wise when he did. He offered me invaluable insight into some major problems in my life, without judgment and without jumping to conclusions. (He was also directly responsible for my meeting Daniel, so I will forever be indebted to him). My memories of him and times with him are fond and special. I respect him. I admire him. I love him.
He used to joke whenever I'd say something about one of my best friends. He'd look offended and say, "I thought I was your best friend." (I think he did that with all of the kids in the youth group). But, when I look back on the years of high school youth group, I do think of Mark as a friend. A good friend.
When I first started going to the church I attend now, I was a freshman in high school. We'd been asked to leave the church I'd grown up at. I was in a crisis of belief. Most of my friends there stopped talking to me and staying in touch with the ones who still wanted to be friends was hard since we didn't see each other that often. On top of that, I didn't really have good friends at school. I was insecure and awkward and really lonely. Mark, the youth pastor, did something that meant the world to me then. He noticed me. I hung around in my brother's shadow a lot that year, but Mark made an intentional effort to include me. He made me feel welcome at church, even though I didn't know anyone else. The guy in charge wanted me around, so I guess that was good enough.
As I became part of the group, I made a lot of great friends and had chances to serve and be in leadership as I grew. I really enjoyed going on retreats and summer trips and hanging out with my church friends. We did so many fun things, and Mark was part of almost all of them. He was always available to listen, always careful to speak and usually said something wise when he did. He offered me invaluable insight into some major problems in my life, without judgment and without jumping to conclusions. (He was also directly responsible for my meeting Daniel, so I will forever be indebted to him). My memories of him and times with him are fond and special. I respect him. I admire him. I love him.
He used to joke whenever I'd say something about one of my best friends. He'd look offended and say, "I thought I was your best friend." (I think he did that with all of the kids in the youth group). But, when I look back on the years of high school youth group, I do think of Mark as a friend. A good friend.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Simeon
Luke 2:25-32
Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. 26It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord's Christ. 27Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, 28Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:
29"Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
you now dismissd]">[d] your servant in peace.
30For my eyes have seen your salvation,
31which you have prepared in the sight of all people,
32a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel."
I always tear up when I think about Old Man Simeon taking baby Jesus in his arms and praising God. He'd waited his whole life for this consolation. And then he basically says that he can die in peace now because he's seen God's salvation. I wonder what Mary and Joseph thought. I wonder if they really understood everything Jesus would do.
I can only imagine how beautiful of a moment it was, as the Holy Spirit danced and sang through Simeon, rejoicing over what that baby was going to do for all of human kind. God probably watched with a satisfied smile, nodding His head at Simeon.
Nowadays the Bethlehem story is a trite little fairy tale told at Christmas. We don't really think about it after Christmas is over, at least not very often. For Simeon, it meant everything. The climax of his entire life, and a moment he would probably recount to the saints in heaven.
I love to share a poem or song at Christmastime that shares some of my feelings and thoughts. Todd Agnew wins again (which only means anything if you've read my blog for the last three years). I highly recommend the album "Do you See What I see?" It has multiple styles and tells the Christmas story from different perspectives. This was last year's post.
He Is Called Jesus - By Todd Agnew
A young couple walks through the temple door
Carrying salvation in their arms
a sight for old eyes
Redemption draws nigh
in the guise of this little baby boy
The prophecies are weaving together
and the waiting is coming to an end
God promised I'd see His Messiah
With these failing eyes before I went home
And God kept His word
He is called Jesus
Son of David, son of Joseph, Son of God
HE is called Jesus
Prince of peace and the Holy One
Of Israel, Messiah, Redeemer and King
He is called Jesus
God's word made flesh for me
They brought Him to me for a blessing
With no idea of the blessing they bring
Two doves as a ransom for their little lamb
who will break their hearts but redeem their souls
You can take these eyes for I have seen Your salvation
You can take this breath and bring me at last into Your peace
You can take these hands for I've held the light to the Gentiles
And the Glory of your people Israel
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Advent
At church our pastor is preaching about the book "Advent Conspiracy". Substituting compassion for consumerism. I always think about that at this time of year, but I haven't been able to come up with a great solution to the buying gifts thing. My family loves giving and receiving gifts, and to be honest, I do too. I don't care how big/expensive they are. I just like gifts. I like seeing what everyone gets for other people, and I like the anticipation when you're pulling paper off of a box.
I guess that, since we can't eliminate this piece of our cultural celebration fully, I've made a commitment this year to worship God more fully and enjoy Him during Christmas more than I do the rest of the year. Maybe it will continue and carry into this coming year for me. Because I truly love Him.
So, my first advent thought came today while I put up decorations to Steven Curtis Chapman's "Music of Christmas" (which is one of my very favorite Christmas albums ever).
"And our God is with us, Emmanuel.
He’s come to save us, Emmanuel.
And we will never face life alone
Now that God has made Himself known,
As Father and Friend, with us through the end, Emmanuel."
I love that God is with us. I love Him because He put aside godness and became a baby. And because He came to live on earth, He can now live in us. It become a trite thought because we're so exposed to it so often, but trutfully, it is so big and important and wonderful. we can't ascribe enough greatness to the idea. We can't understand it. But we can appreciate it.
I guess that, since we can't eliminate this piece of our cultural celebration fully, I've made a commitment this year to worship God more fully and enjoy Him during Christmas more than I do the rest of the year. Maybe it will continue and carry into this coming year for me. Because I truly love Him.
So, my first advent thought came today while I put up decorations to Steven Curtis Chapman's "Music of Christmas" (which is one of my very favorite Christmas albums ever).
"And our God is with us, Emmanuel.
He’s come to save us, Emmanuel.
And we will never face life alone
Now that God has made Himself known,
As Father and Friend, with us through the end, Emmanuel."
I love that God is with us. I love Him because He put aside godness and became a baby. And because He came to live on earth, He can now live in us. It become a trite thought because we're so exposed to it so often, but trutfully, it is so big and important and wonderful. we can't ascribe enough greatness to the idea. We can't understand it. But we can appreciate it.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
A Thankful Heart
You know why so many people feel so good on Thanksgiving? I think the answer is obvious: because we've stopped looking at how bad things are for just a moment, and realized how GOOD they truly are. No matter where a person is at in life, he or she usually has something to be thankful for. During the rest of the year, many other things overshadow that. At Thanksgiving, we realize all over again how good God has been.
At Thanksgiving in the Snodgrass family, we have a time where we sing hymns and then everyone has a chance to say what he or she has been thankful for this year. I had a hard time saying mine because everything involving babies has been so emotional. but I'll say it here. I'm thankful for God's goodness, and that we can trust in Him to be good, even in bad things. I shared that I'm thankful for Jayna Joy--"Bringer of Victory" "God has been Gracious" and the middle name having the significance from Psal 30:5 "Weeping may remain for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."
I also shared that I am thankful for the promise in 2 Peter 1:3 "His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of Him." How blessed we are. So very very blessed.
At Thanksgiving in the Snodgrass family, we have a time where we sing hymns and then everyone has a chance to say what he or she has been thankful for this year. I had a hard time saying mine because everything involving babies has been so emotional. but I'll say it here. I'm thankful for God's goodness, and that we can trust in Him to be good, even in bad things. I shared that I'm thankful for Jayna Joy--"Bringer of Victory" "God has been Gracious" and the middle name having the significance from Psal 30:5 "Weeping may remain for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."
I also shared that I am thankful for the promise in 2 Peter 1:3 "His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of Him." How blessed we are. So very very blessed.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
English...?
Without making any statements about education, lack thereof, text-obsessing, not in touch with reality teenagers, or anything like that, I just want to share this with you
If you took less than five minutes to figure out what that said, you're smarter than me. I think you might need Little Orphan Annie's decoder ring. The language it's written in is "facebook status" from one of my young friends. 18 years old. I understand you need to use your phone to update, but uh... lots of people do.
I won't be cynical. It's hilarious, really. Hilarious.
Y !S !T D@ ONLYT!M3 F@MILY COM3 2 S33 U !S @T YO WORST AND HOW COM3 D3Y ONLY C@LL WH3N D3Y N3ED SOM3TH!N OR D3Y W@NN@ B3 YO B3STFR!END W3N U GOT SOM3TH!N BUT W3N U @!NT GOT NOTH!N D3Y @!NT NOWH3R3 2 B FOUND!!!!! LOL D@TS CR@Z!!
If you took less than five minutes to figure out what that said, you're smarter than me. I think you might need Little Orphan Annie's decoder ring. The language it's written in is "facebook status" from one of my young friends. 18 years old. I understand you need to use your phone to update, but uh... lots of people do.
I won't be cynical. It's hilarious, really. Hilarious.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
The Shack
Well, I finished reading William P Young's "The Shack" recently. I heard some raving reviews early on after its appearance, but hadn't felt really pulled to read it. In fact, whenever someone feels strongly about something, I tend to shy away and push my feelings in the other direction. But, around Christmastime, a friend gave me the book to read so we could discuss it. Then, through a series of events involving my weasly sister, I misplaced the book (by misplaced, I mean, my sister added it to her collection) so I didn't get around to it until this month. Then I started reading it. I don't want to be too opinionated and risk pissing someone off or the opposite, but I feel I should share my opinion because... I can. And because I found some aspects of the book quite troubling.
I must say, this is a really well-written book. I liked the words and the way it flowed, and the plot/conversations and things were very convincing. The plot itself is actualy troubling. It revolves around someone who's daughter was the victim of violent crime, and, while it doesn't share any gruesome details, being in the head of a father experiencing a kidnapping and murder is hard. Being the mother of two girls, it was just hard to read and feel like I was relating with the father character.
The book isn't really about that murder, but about how the main character, Mackinzie, deals with it and fights with God over it. Basically, he ends up encountering God at the place where they believed the crime took place. He goes back a few years later and has this experience with God, personified as three distinct personalities, representing the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. So, with that said, you know the plot. From the time he meets up with God to most of the end, the story is mostly conversation, while Mackinzie grapples with these questions about God and life and suffering that I think everyone who's experienced grief asks. The answers you get... well, it's a blend of truth, theology, comfort and heracy.
I really appreciated the fresh perspectives on things. I liked the theme that God is not who we think He is. Because He isn't. He's new and changing, yet old and predictable. He's so many things that we could never, ever explain it all or fit it into our minds even if we could explain it. We've tried and tried, and I believe that this book does a really good job explaining some things that are hard to put into words.
I liked a lot of the answers. Having struggled with questions about why God allows evil and how He works through it, I was glad to relate with Mackinzie. There were so many good answers given. So much theology laced in through the casual conversations and thoughts. It made me wonder at how little of God I know, and how much there is yet to understand. It made me love him more as I thought about what it would be like to meet up with Jesus and walk on the lake with him, or eat supper wtih God Himself. It made me long for closer fellowship with Him.
What I can't get over, and why I can't recommend the book, is the fallacies that are sprinkled in. I guess that's all I have to say about it. Amidst these solid truths, I found things that, no matter how much I tried, I could not reconsile with Scripture. So, if you read it, you have to really pray that God will show you the truth and help you discern. And you have to remember, just because the characters speaking are God, doesn't mean that the book was written by Him. :)
I must say, this is a really well-written book. I liked the words and the way it flowed, and the plot/conversations and things were very convincing. The plot itself is actualy troubling. It revolves around someone who's daughter was the victim of violent crime, and, while it doesn't share any gruesome details, being in the head of a father experiencing a kidnapping and murder is hard. Being the mother of two girls, it was just hard to read and feel like I was relating with the father character.
The book isn't really about that murder, but about how the main character, Mackinzie, deals with it and fights with God over it. Basically, he ends up encountering God at the place where they believed the crime took place. He goes back a few years later and has this experience with God, personified as three distinct personalities, representing the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. So, with that said, you know the plot. From the time he meets up with God to most of the end, the story is mostly conversation, while Mackinzie grapples with these questions about God and life and suffering that I think everyone who's experienced grief asks. The answers you get... well, it's a blend of truth, theology, comfort and heracy.
I really appreciated the fresh perspectives on things. I liked the theme that God is not who we think He is. Because He isn't. He's new and changing, yet old and predictable. He's so many things that we could never, ever explain it all or fit it into our minds even if we could explain it. We've tried and tried, and I believe that this book does a really good job explaining some things that are hard to put into words.
I liked a lot of the answers. Having struggled with questions about why God allows evil and how He works through it, I was glad to relate with Mackinzie. There were so many good answers given. So much theology laced in through the casual conversations and thoughts. It made me wonder at how little of God I know, and how much there is yet to understand. It made me love him more as I thought about what it would be like to meet up with Jesus and walk on the lake with him, or eat supper wtih God Himself. It made me long for closer fellowship with Him.
What I can't get over, and why I can't recommend the book, is the fallacies that are sprinkled in. I guess that's all I have to say about it. Amidst these solid truths, I found things that, no matter how much I tried, I could not reconsile with Scripture. So, if you read it, you have to really pray that God will show you the truth and help you discern. And you have to remember, just because the characters speaking are God, doesn't mean that the book was written by Him. :)
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Brokenness
I wrote this after reflecting on my baby brother who died at 6 days old. His birthday was Monday and he would have been 26. Obviously it ended up being more of my personal thoughts. The phrases "you are yourself the answer" and "what other answer would suffice" were taken from C.S. Lewis' Till We have Faces, which has been and will forever be the best book I ever read.
Brokenness
Years go by but once in a while I still find myself asking why
Why, in the midst of so much sorrow, must you allow for more
why, when the joy so simple and pure is lost, does it ruin so many other things
why do you take these little ones home
Why do babies have to die?
and grace rolls down and mercy shows
as your hand guides us and your presence
guides our steps, causing the peace to flow
but even in your goodness, the doubt staggers in
touching and picking and pulling
making me face the questions I wish would die
and causing me to wonder why.
Why would you let it be this way
when the sorrow is almost too much to take
and the pain can never be erased
why do you take these little ones home
why do babies have to go?
and all the answers are trite when told to a burning, broken heart
All but one—you yourself are the Answer
in your love we find hope
in your light we find comfort
in your brokenness
we are healed
In your arms we find peace
and that will be enough for me
for what other answer would suffice?
Papers
I remember starting in second grade, our teachers let us use our free time to "read write or draw". I loved all three activities a lot. But, if I had to choose, I'd usually choose to write. I'd get these notebooks at the student store for 25cents and sometimes these great markers that were like 50 cents. And then, whenever I had a chance, I'd write these little stories. I only have a few of the notebooks, since they were prone to fall apart once the glue wore off. It's funny to see the themes I chose for my free stories. Mostly detective stories and things about the teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles... at least in second grade. Detective stories happened all the way through fifth grade. (I had always planned to be a detective until seventh grade when I found out you had to be pretty physically fit, and then I gave up on the idea).
In Fifth grade, we'd go up to the computer lab and use the "new" Apples to type up our stories and print them out on dot matrix. Ahhh, beautiful. What I wouldn't give to hear that sound. I believe Strongbad refers to it as "pre-ow" Anyway, I digress. So, in fifth grade we typed up stories. I wrote really long stories back then. The two that are left behind are pretty darn involved for a fifth grader's brain. I have one that was 5 pages when I typed it, which was amazing compared to everyone else's who were mostly one or two pages. I remember my teacher saying, "This isn't a story! It's a novel!" It's a stupid story, really, about some kids who discover a whole bunch of nuclear weapons in their neighbor's basement. Headed to Iraq for Sadaam Hussein... lame, I know. I guess I had a lot to learn about terrorists. But the plot was pretty cohesive.
My mom gave me a portfolio with a lot of writing in it from those years. I remembered writing some of it, but a lot of it I'd completely forgotten about. I know I have a lot of free writing from sixth grade that I did during class, but I can't find most of my writing assignments. There was one from ffith grade, though, a midevil tale (oh, I forgot to mention that after the detective stories stopped, I started writing more about kids finding bombs and knights and castles. Much better). It was 14 pages hand-written with illustrations. Lots of details. I think I might actually post that one if I get enough requests, because it's hilarious.
Anyway, reading all of that old crap and remembering how imaginitive I used to be made me wish that I had more time to devote to making up stories. I don't do it as much anymore. Sure, I can spell better now, and I have much better technique but sometimes I almost wish for those days back when the idea tank was overflowing.
Then again, maybe if I started writing detective stories again, the ideas would start to flow again. Maybe I will... but probably not.
In Fifth grade, we'd go up to the computer lab and use the "new" Apples to type up our stories and print them out on dot matrix. Ahhh, beautiful. What I wouldn't give to hear that sound. I believe Strongbad refers to it as "pre-ow" Anyway, I digress. So, in fifth grade we typed up stories. I wrote really long stories back then. The two that are left behind are pretty darn involved for a fifth grader's brain. I have one that was 5 pages when I typed it, which was amazing compared to everyone else's who were mostly one or two pages. I remember my teacher saying, "This isn't a story! It's a novel!" It's a stupid story, really, about some kids who discover a whole bunch of nuclear weapons in their neighbor's basement. Headed to Iraq for Sadaam Hussein... lame, I know. I guess I had a lot to learn about terrorists. But the plot was pretty cohesive.
My mom gave me a portfolio with a lot of writing in it from those years. I remembered writing some of it, but a lot of it I'd completely forgotten about. I know I have a lot of free writing from sixth grade that I did during class, but I can't find most of my writing assignments. There was one from ffith grade, though, a midevil tale (oh, I forgot to mention that after the detective stories stopped, I started writing more about kids finding bombs and knights and castles. Much better). It was 14 pages hand-written with illustrations. Lots of details. I think I might actually post that one if I get enough requests, because it's hilarious.
Anyway, reading all of that old crap and remembering how imaginitive I used to be made me wish that I had more time to devote to making up stories. I don't do it as much anymore. Sure, I can spell better now, and I have much better technique but sometimes I almost wish for those days back when the idea tank was overflowing.
Then again, maybe if I started writing detective stories again, the ideas would start to flow again. Maybe I will... but probably not.
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