Have you ever had a total stranger walk up to you on the street, tell you exactly what you were struggling with, and offer to pray with you on the spot? That just happened.
This morning I decided that I really wanted a chai latte from Lemonjello's, the coffee shop just down the street from my house. I planned on sitting on their patio for a while, enjoying the almost-sunshine and the fact that I don't have my laptop packed to write a paper. I did bring Jamie Smith's Imagining the Kingdom, though.
I walked out of LJ's with my latte and my chocolate chip cookie, only to find that the patio was full. I decided to walk back to the seminary.
Halfway down the block, I heard the bicyclist behind me say rather quietly, "excuse me." I quickly apologized and moved to the edge of the sidewalk to let her pass.
"No, no," she said, "I have a question for you."
A bit startled, I turned around to greet her.
"I saw you in Lemonjello's and wanted to ask where you got your purse. I really love it."
Small talk followed--names, schools, degrees. Rather abruptly, she changed the subject.
"Is fear something you've been struggling with lately--like, fear of the future?"
Even more startled, I'm sure my eyes were the size of baseballs at this point. I sighed.
"Yeah--well, more like this nervousness that I'm not paying attention to things that I should be."
She nodded understandingly. "Can I pray with you?"
A quick prayer later, she went on her way and I on mine. Still sleepy, I wondered for a moment if she was even real--and didn't look back for fear that she would have completely disappeared.
I'm still not sure what just happened, but there is a strange pattern coming together of prophetic voices appearing randomly and without warning. I'm not pouring all of my energy into seeking them out and interpreting them, by any means--but when similar things happen more than once in seven days, I start to pay attention.
The only thing I know to say comes from 1 Samuel 3:10 - "speak, Lord--your servant is listening."
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Sermon Writing: my brain is full.
It's full of things that it was not full of in January--Scripture references, theological principles, desires to go play in a baptismal font every time I preach, and memories of places and people that I miss far too much.
It's full of words that make no sense to most of humanity--words like covenant, eschatology, pneumatology, Trinitarian, justification, sanctification, and Arminian.
It's full of confusion and cognitive dissonance as I listen to some around me speak about God as though God isn't listening.
It's full of song lyrics, chunks of Psalms, and library periodical titles.
It's full of lists of things to do: write this prayer, dig into this passage, meet with this person and that one, don't forget to connect with her on Sunday.
It's full of wishes for beach days, novel-reading, and a break from the whirlwind that is seminary life.
It's full of annoyance at little, trivial things.
It's full of would-haves, should-haves, guilt, self-doubt, and heartache.
It's full of hope that someday, things will be better.
It's full of caffeine, thanks to the barista who decided I looked tired enough for two shots of espresso this morning.
It's full of ideas for greater community, greater connectivity, and greater awareness of the wide, diverse world that God has created.
It's full of a desire for harsh, cleansing rain to wash away the vestiges of a hard winter.
It's full of images of flower gardens in Bangalore, beagle puppies in Illinois, pink, purple and yellow tulips in Michigan, faces of family and friends scattered across this wide world, and the incessant need to see them all again.
Lord, my brain is full.
Empty me, and fill this brain up with the words that your people ought to hear, the hugs that they need, and the love that you so desperately want them to have.
It's full of words that make no sense to most of humanity--words like covenant, eschatology, pneumatology, Trinitarian, justification, sanctification, and Arminian.
It's full of confusion and cognitive dissonance as I listen to some around me speak about God as though God isn't listening.
It's full of song lyrics, chunks of Psalms, and library periodical titles.
It's full of lists of things to do: write this prayer, dig into this passage, meet with this person and that one, don't forget to connect with her on Sunday.
It's full of wishes for beach days, novel-reading, and a break from the whirlwind that is seminary life.
It's full of annoyance at little, trivial things.
It's full of would-haves, should-haves, guilt, self-doubt, and heartache.
It's full of hope that someday, things will be better.
It's full of caffeine, thanks to the barista who decided I looked tired enough for two shots of espresso this morning.
It's full of ideas for greater community, greater connectivity, and greater awareness of the wide, diverse world that God has created.
It's full of a desire for harsh, cleansing rain to wash away the vestiges of a hard winter.
It's full of images of flower gardens in Bangalore, beagle puppies in Illinois, pink, purple and yellow tulips in Michigan, faces of family and friends scattered across this wide world, and the incessant need to see them all again.
Lord, my brain is full.
Empty me, and fill this brain up with the words that your people ought to hear, the hugs that they need, and the love that you so desperately want them to have.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
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.
So today, I am thankful to see this screen and be able to proclaim that "it is finished."
Grace indeed abounds, my friends.
Monday, May 6, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
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.
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.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, May 3, 2013
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.
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.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
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.
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.
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