Draft

I am learning.

Since August I have learned so much. But I am still learning. Most of all, I am being taught how disastrous a failure I am, though not through a teacher but through my own choices. And though my short comings have often left me hopeless up to this point in my life, I have slowly been recognizing that it is through the things in me which I despise so greatly that I grow to love Christ so much more, for being everything that I am not.

An obvious failure has been this blog. I have found that Bible college grants me much creative thought and then zaps my creative flow. I think it's partially because I'm learning so much every day about how God is and how I am, and it's overwhelming. I also think it's because I have homework pretty much every day. And Bible school homework isn't the same as typical academic homework. It's easier and harder at the same time. Easier because the topics are usually more capable of keeping my attention than algebra ever was. But also harder, because every historical narrative in the Bible is densely saturated with truth. The "school" in Bible school has been teaching me how to unpack Truth correctly, something I never knew could be so important.

Right now, I'm sitting on my bottom bunk, which is actually much higher than normal bunk beds, and I'm chewing Big Red. I never liked this gum growing up. I kind of have the mouth of a four-year-old. That little girl that hates all things spicy and all things vegetable? Yeah that's me. I don't even like soda (that was for all my non-northern friends). When I was a kid the carbonation "hurt" my mouth. So now I don't have the taste for it. And it was the same with all things cinnamon; I just couldn't handle the flame engulfing my taste buds.

And yet, here I sit enjoying a piece of stale Big Red, for which I fed the vending machine by the dining hall $0.30. And sometimes I even drink carbonated beverages these days. When there's nothing else to drink.

I've been thinking about the words of the Apostle Paul in I Corinthians 13: "When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things."

I recently listened to a teacher reference this verse in a new light, and it brought me a tension that I'm still wrestling with. His challenge was short but profound. Essentially he posed a question to our class: "How are you doing with putting away the things of your childhood? Things like, the way you think, the way you respond, the way you spend your time?"

Now, I know there are a few things that I do not do anymore. Things that consumed hours of my life as a ten year old, or even a tenth-grader. But I've never even thought about the childish things that I do and think right now. And when I started thinking about it, there are so many things. An example would be how I respond to correction, and I'm talking thought response, not just outright actions.

It's been a few days now, and I'm at work for the day. Saturdays can be long sometimes, being here open to close. But today is calm, especially compared to Friday night since we have music and it's loud sometimes...particularly when the entertainment is bagpipes. I'm actually really enjoying the day. No doubt we'll have snow before this month is up, but right now I'm just taking in the glorious sun as much as possible. I walked to work this morning! On my way here I was just thinking about how good the Lord is, and to be honest my mind was too ADD to focus consistently for much more than ten steps. But what I did comprehend about Him thrilled my face off.

I was thinking about how Christ's sacrifice on the cross provided for a new kind of relationship between God and the people He created. Even though our sin has left us estranged and always running, running in search of anything that will make life worth being alive...even though our condition of depravity is steadily growing more and more wicked...even still, Christ's sacrifice was outside of time. He took on the full wrath of God for all time.

And this relationship I mentioned, it's special. It's a Father-son/Father-daughter relationship. For some, that's horrible news because, our dad's are sinners too, and they have not been good fathers. What does a good father look like anyway?? I'm learning that I cannot look to those co-depraved along side me for hope on this fallen earth. They will only fail me. They will inevitably disappoint me sooner or later.

But God, He's...different. SO different. I think that's the problem with the Christian faith here in the West. The existence of God is rejected because He doesn't fit the glove of common understanding. But I guess that's just a huge relief for me, because this world is screwed up. I'm at school in a town that is very disturbing at times. And I know that it's nothing compared to a million other places in the world.

So I guess I'm just so happy that God doesn't think the same way as me: childish. It's awesome to me that He gives narrative after narrative in the Old Testament revealing who He is and what He's like...as in, how He works with us. EVEN ME! In my sinful thought process and frustrated selfishness.

This blog has been added to slowly over the last couple of weeks, like a rough paper that's been marked in red several times over. And there's this other kind of draft outside these days. It whips through my undecidedly shoulder-length hair and then flies away in whatever direction. Isn't it strange to think that the air I breathe here in Michigan could at some point enter your lungs where you are?

Oh My God

Tonight my sister and I went to a friend's house to watch a new documentary that he just bought through The Voice of the Martyrs. It's titled Underground Reality Vietnam, and though portions of the film were cliche concerning the American teens' reaction to the reality of persecution, the story is extremely challenging and would be great for any type of youth group. I would definitely suggest it, especially to the more sheltered Christian youth. Sheltered here meaning unaware of, unconcerned about, and generally uncomfortable with hearing about the persecuted church around the world, specifically in Vietnam.

The general story is that eight American and Australian (I definitely admit to enjoying their accents) teens are given the opportunity to visit the underground church of Vietnam, smuggling Bibles and documenting their journey along the way.

There is a song on Jars of Clay's newest album, titled Oh My God. The lyrics of this song sink into me. We really do all tear at each other, don't we? We're all really just longing for reconciliation. I really feel that persecution of the family of God is incredibly important to discover for ourselves, outside of the US. But then I look around and I see a world, our world, the "world" around me that is so caught up in entertainment and self-improvement, and I can't help but admit to how much it has molded me, how it has shaped me into the person that I am. Culture cannot be evaded; I am an American, and I am not attacking America or Americans. I'm just realizing more and more how much our environment really effects how we view the world. And I can't help but thinking that God just looks down on all of us and can't wait to go back before the Tower of Babel, before He had to split us up because of our pride. But, I know it's going to be so much better than "before" ever could have been. The new earth, oh...that's what I dream of and cannot wait to experience.

Still, I despise the pulpit sermons that drive us to find relief in this fallen world only by looking forward to a perfect Heaven. I want to believe that God is longing for us to look and see, here and now, what can we do? How can we improve the life of one or two of those around us? I dunno; I guess I just get so sandwiched between my desire for foreign missions and my heart for the incredibly lost who have grown up along side of me, never knowing Who lives inside of me...or the homeless man who I've never met because I don't even know if he exists, and if he does exist, where I could find him to offer him help.

How did Jesus choose who to heal, who to help, while He was here on earth? Ultimately, I realize that He made it possible for all of us to be rescued from our deepest need - spiritual death as a result of sin - by coming here and living a sinless life and dying in our place, for our evil hearts. But what about the tangible things? How did Jesus choose which soup kitchen to serve from, so to speak? Since Jesus was fully God and fully man, can we draw on Christ's power in us to do what He did on earth? Can we find the strength to help every person we encounter? Did Jesus help every single one?

These questions roll around my brain and I must admit, most days evade my heart. The question Where do I begin? habitually keeps my hands from action, a tactic I am certain Satan takes pride in.

How do we balance our responsibilities as Christ-followers? I'm unsure if it's just my current stage of life or otherwise, but...I'm just so driven and yet so undecided. So overwhelmed with the task, and yet I don't even know which task is mine to own. How much of life is passion and how much should simply be sacrifice? Who's definition of sacrifice should come first? Paul's? If so, I am anything but sacrificial. In giving, in living, in general. Is living like my Jesus really supposed to be this detailed, or has my "world's" culture confused the matter? And where is the "razor edge" of the Christ-follower's life in all this? The phrase "Everything in moderation" comes to mind...but zeal seems limp in response. And of course I can't escape the fact that my fear and pride are more than likely the basic reasons I don't do what I want to. Am I just over thinking all of this?

And then I look up and around me I see the depth of our depravity. And it seems so simple again. My God...why are we so afraid?

OH MY GOD
[Jars of Clay: Good Monsters]

Oh my God, look around this place
Your fingers reach around the bone
You set the break and set the tone
Flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain
All fools say, "Oh my God"

Oh my God, Why are we so afraid?
We make it worse when we don't bleed
There is no cure for our disease
Turn a phrase, and rise again
Or fake your death and only tell your closest friend
Oh my God.

Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief
Weddings, boats and alibis
All drift away, and a mother cries

Liars and fools; sons and failures
Thieves will always say
Lost and found; ailing wanderers
Healers always say
Whores and angels; men with problems
Leavers always say
Broken hearted; separated
Orphans always say
War creators; racial haters
Preachers always say
Distant fathers; fallen warriors
Givers always say
Pilgrim saints; lonely widows
Users always say
Fearful mothers; watchful doubters
Saviors always say

Sometimes I cannot forgive
And these days, mercy cuts so deep
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep
While I lay, I dream we're better,
Scales were gone and faces lighter
When we wake, we hate our brother
We still move to hurt each other
Sometimes I can close my eyes,
And all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing,
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder
We all feel the need for wonder
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the thunder

Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven
All the times I thought to reach up
All the times I had to give
Babies underneath their beds
Hospitals that cannot treat all the wounds that money causes,
All the comforts of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children - this is our inheritance
All the rage of watching mothers - this is our greatest offense

Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God

A Whole New World

Some how along the way, I was caught up in the grandeur of creating my very own "site." Myspace, Xanga, Bebo...I guess even Facebook has similar elements to the fad of personalized sites (although I'll agree it's another crowd altogether). Some how along the way, I got sucked into believing that I needed these websites; I needed to post pictures and comment on every one else's and if I didn't comment, I at the very least needed to look at every, last, one.

Some how along the way, I forgot about blogging.

Simply typing my thoughts. Journaling, in a sense. I completely bought into the idea that in order to communicate with someone, I needed a Facebook, Myspace, etc...when in reality, all I need is a pen and paper. Well, and a stamped envelope. For whatever reason, I lost all motivation to just, write. To use the world wide web for more than just gossip and drama. I lost all motivation to use it for the expression of thoughts gathered. And that, friends, I believe to be tragedy in the truest sense. Because I love to write.

Ever since my sister introduced me to Brett Maxwell's blog, which led me to Noel's blog, which led me to a million other blogs including Don Miller's (very exciting), I have had this nagging to set up my own blog. So now I have, and I'm terrified to begin because (a) I'm younger than every other person I know that blogs and (b) I'd hate to get lazy and let this go. Once you start you can't just give it up and go back to gossip and drama. So I guess that means I'm going to have to make this a priority, which will be especially interesting staring August 20th, my first day at New Tribes Bible Institute.

So here I am I guess... Hello. And welcome to my blog.