Thankfulness, Day Eight: Sunshine

I honestly can't remember if I've already posted about this already, so forgive me if I have.

But as I sit in my apartment on this slightly chilly spring day, I am so thankful for sunshine.

I'm thankful for the warmth that it brings to my skin. I'm thankful for the vitamins that it delivers on contact. I'm thankful for its depression-banishing powers and the smiles that it evokes. I'm thankful for its glimmering on the lake, and for the softer quality it takes on in the springtime.

I am thankful, too, for the things that it brings to life. From asparagus and grass to freckles and blonde highlights to cherry blossoms, there is a beauty in the things that only sunshine can bring out.

Thankfulness, Day Seven: Cloud of Witnesses.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw of everything that hinders us and run the race set before us with perserverance."

Today, I am thankful for the cloud of witnesses that God has seen fit to put me smack in the middle of. I am thankful for those who share their stories of God's faithfulness, God's strength in the midst of chaos, and God's presence. I am thankful for those who ask questions.

Today, I am thankful for the Church.

Thankfulness, Day Six: FINISHED.

With fifteen minutes left in day six of finals week, I have turned in my final Systematic Theology paper for the semester.

So today, I am thankful to see this screen and be able to proclaim that "it is finished."

Grace indeed abounds, my friends.

Thankfulness, Day Five: Sunshine

The difference in my general mood and motivation levels when the sun is out is rather astounding.

This week, I broke out the dresses and the short sleeves for the first time this year. My freckles are slowly appearing as my skin meets much-needed daylight.

So today, I am thankful for sunshine.

Thankfulness, Day Four: Faithfulness

Great is thy faithfulness
Great is thy faithfulness
Morning my morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed, thy hand hath provided--
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.

Life is good, because God is faithful.

I spent most of the winter trying to figure out how I was going to make all of this insanity make sense--seminary, the possibility of social work school, living in Michigan. I spent most of the winter panicking, wondering if I was doing this right and how I could do it better. I spent most of the winter hoping and praying that I could trust this God who called me out.

I've spent spring (all two weeks of it thus far) recovering from a long and difficult four months, and recognizing all of the ways in which God has been faithful.

I finish my third semester at WTS this week. I was privileged to spend 10 days in India in January. I have an apartment of my own, which has truly become home. The leaves on the trees are budding, the grass is greening, and the tulips are blooming. I have the opportunity to love, and to be loved. I learned that I can preach. I have an entire life of ministry before me. God listens and is faithful to answer.

A Prayer of Thanks

God who was, and is, and is to come;

You have given me life and breath and being. You have sustained me at your table countless times, and I have walked through refining fire and cleansing water with your Spirit sustaining me. Your steadfast love truly does endure forever. Do not forget the work of your hands, Lord, that I might look more and more like one of your people each and every day.

Amen.

Thankfulness, Day Three: Letters.

Five years ago, I embarked on a journey that, while a small part of my life, would change me.

Five years ago, I decided to sponsor a child in another country.

Five years ago, I pored through the Compassion International website until I found my child.

Five years ago, I received my first letter from a little girl in northern Thailand. Her favorite color is blue, she said, and she loved art class. She drew me a picture of her house, with the sun in the corner. She wants to be a teacher someday.

Five years later, my heart burst with joy as I opened yet another letter from Aoy. She tells me that she learned about Valentine's Day this year at her project site, and about love. She talks about God's love, and her mother's love, and my love.

This teenager, now fifteen years old, has never met me in person. I don't know if that will ever happen, as much as I would love it. But she knows that I love her like a sister. She knows that I pray for her, and she prays for me. She knows that we look at the same moon every night, and that I think of her often.

 A Prayer for Aoy:

Good and Gracious God,

You have held Aoy in the palm of your hand from before the foundation of the world. You have provided for her and her family in radical and unexpected ways, and you changed two lives when you brought us together as sisters in Christ. Continue to provide for her, Lord, as you always have. Help me to be the best sister to her that I can be from such a distance. Send your Spirit to equip her family and teachers to show her more and more every day of who you are, that she might grow to know you in a deep and lasting way.

In your name,

Amen.

Thankfulness, Day Two: Rain

Today, I decided that despite a chance of rain, I would walk downtown after I finished my Greek paper and treat myself to some frozen yogurt. Orange Leaf has the most delicious mango-flavored froyo, and it was (at least when I left) a warm, sunny day.

I retrieved my frozen yogurt, complete with pineapple and strawberries, and made my way to a bench just off of River Avenue, directly in front of a large bed of yellow tulips.

Suddenly, the wind shifted direction, the sky became overcast, and I could feel a slight chill in the air. Less than two minutes later, it was raining and I was sans-umbrella. Fantastic.

But as I walked home in the warm spring rain, I let my mind wander.

As I wandered through Centennial Park, I stopped for just a second and held my hands out, letting the water wash over me.  Unlike the bitterly cold rain that usually comes with spring, this was a soothing, warm sort--strangely therapeutic.

And just for a moment, I thought that this is what baptism must feel like for a small child: you're suddenly wet, you have no idea how this happened, and you might very well wish that it wasn't happening at all. But it does. And life goes on.

So today, I can say that I am thankful for my baptism. I am thankful for professors and pastors who hold that before me so often that I can't help but think of it when I'm suddenly soaked with a sudden downpour. And I am thankful for rain--for the water that washes the earth.

Thankfulness, Day One: Honest Feedback

**Note: this is an installment in a short series on thankfulness throughout finals--keeping in mind what God has given me as I freak out over the things that I have to do.

As I look back on this semester, I can honestly say that it was not my best. In fact, it was pretty awful. I spent much time in purely survival mode.

But over and over again, I kept receiving positive feedback. I received better grades than I deserved, even as I put in less work than my peers. I heard "you're doing great!", when I felt absolutely awful. I could have used a "get yourself together" discussion months ago.

But yesterday, the day that I finally woke up feeling like myself again, I received some much-needed feedback about the semester from my teaching church mentor. While hearing my suspicions confirmed was difficult, I appreciated her honesty, her willingness to call me out when I obviously needed it, and her grace-filled encouragement to keep learning, to do better.

So today, I am thankful for those who step out of their comfort zones to help me learn.

A Prayer:

Creating, Redeeming, and Sustaining God,

You have given us life, breath, and being. And in spite of our hesitations, you draw us into community with one another--people who are different from us. Give us humble hearts, Lord, that we might learn together who you are and how you are at work in your world. And may we, when necessary, be willing to teach just as we have learned.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

Amen.

Love your neighbor as yourself?

A lawyer asks Jesus what the most important rule in Scripture is, and he responds by quoting Deutoronomy:

"Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, with all of your mind, and with all of your strength..."

You can almost see the Pharisees grinning as they think of all of the ways in which they have done a better job of that than the rest of the world.

But Jesus continues, adding a second: "...and the second is like it: love your neighbor as yourself."

Their grins disappear.

These two sentences have spawned centuries of speculation, rule-making, and charitable giving.

But some of us are more perplexed than anything by that second command: how am I supposed to love a neighbor as myself if I have a hard time liking myself?

I've written before on the trouble with self-negation and the Church, and since then I've thought about it quite a bit.

And yesterday, something occurred to me:

What would happen if you flipped that command on its head?

What if that verse really read "love yourself as you love your neighbor?"

Does that change how you would respond?

"Sister, you are a preacher."

It all started when I walked to the podium, opened the Bible to Jeremiah, and, knowing what came next, smiled. There appeared, again, that strange feeling that this was, somehow, right.  Jeremiah 1 was already imprinted on my heart in a way that only the Spirit can be responsible for. My sermon said, more than once, "we are Jeremiah--and we are Jeremiah together."

And it was better than I could have ever imagined.

On Tuesday, for my Preaching Foundations class, I preached my very first official sermon as a seminarian. (Okay, it was more like a 13-minute homily-ish-thing, but I'm still claiming it as a sermon.)

Preaching, for me, is always an odd experience. I tend to lose myself in what I'm saying, and sort of forget that there are real people listening.  If I didn't have a manuscript in front of me, I would have no idea what I'd said once I sat down. (This has legitimately happened before.)

But this passage, in particular, worked its way into my soul and stuck there. My own story is so wrapped up in this call narrative that Jeremiah's words became my own, and I claimed God's words to Jeremiah. 

"Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I consecrated you."

Apparently, it showed.

My professor and two local pastors evaluating me were oddly enchanted with what I had to say. Having seen the video of my sermon, I'm going to go ahead and blame the Holy Spirit and its penchant for doing unexpected things for that, because that sermon itself wasn't particularly special. But that's also a dangerous claim to make, because when it was over, one of the pastors said to me:

"Sister, you are a PREACHER. Don't ever shy away from that."

My first reaction was "aw, thanks!"

A split second later, I realized what she had really said, my eyes got wide, and I thought "oh dear--I'm a WHAT?"

See, I knew quite a while ago that preaching was something that I could do. Public speaking doesn't phase me after eight years of speech competitions and organizational leadership roles. It's physically possible and not overwhelmingly terrifying.

The question was always whether I should. Is this what God would have me do with my time and brain power and emotional energy? Or should I be focused somewhere else?

So, I messed with the seminary's requirements for my degree program and took this preaching class. I had a strange feeling that by the end of the semester, I would have some idea whether I should be doing this on a regular basis or not. (Those unexplainable gut feelings lead me to make some of the most insane decisions I could ever think of, but I usually wind up following them anyway.)

And so it begins. At some point (but not until this summer) I have to make a choice between my current program (seminary plus social work) and the regular seminary program. I have to decide where the energy and brain power and time will go.

And if preaching is to be a part of this call, then so be it.

"You shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord."

You see, this is one of those moments when I am incredibly thankful for my complete inability to see where this is going. College-student-Sarah would have been absolutely terrified by what I'm doing right now, and high-school-Sarah would have thought that I was simply insane. But all of this makes so much sense in retrospect that I can't imagine myself doing anything else, even though I really, really want to some days.

And so, I wait. I continue to wait, and ask, and wait some more.

God, where do I go from here?