Psalm 78

O my people, hear my teaching; listen to the words of my mouth. 

I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter hidden things ... things from of old--what we have heard and known, what our fathers have told us.

We will not hide them from their children; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done.

wisdom.

I am in the process of reading "Organic God" by Margaret Feinberg and while there are only ten chapters in the entire book, I'm finding myself sucked in on almost every page. I'm reading and re-reading paragraphs that seem to apply so much to my life. I couldn't go on without putting some of those things on here and I certainly hope I won't break any copyright rules along the way...

From the chapter: "Amazingly Wise" --

Wisdom is more than just practical know-how. Wisdom illuminates a better way to live, and even allows us to consider the best possible way to live. Wisdom is so smart that it doesn't travel alone. Wisdom's companions include understanding, knowledge, counsel, discernment, discretion, justice, and equity. It's hard to find wisdom apart from its cohorts. ...

If wisdom is the handle and fabric of an umbrella, then its companions serve as spokes, offering protection from whatever comes--rain-driven storms or the heat of the day. Like an umbrella, wisdom can also be used like a cane when the journey of life becomes steep and our steps become unsure.

Amazingly Wise is the fourth chapter in Feinberg's "Organic God" and it eloquently talks about wisdom and proverbs and prayer. Parts of Margaret's undergraduate experience are captured beautifully here, including an inspiring story of taking a class from the great writer and leader Maya Angelou.

Feinberg took this class at Wake Forest University and this is one of those small pieces that are drawing me in. I only discovered the existence of Wake Forest last year when one of my closest friends moved practically next door to the campus. As small as it seems, I felt affirmed and assured when I read this story--like somehow it was meant to speak to me and here was one tiny, almost hidden clue.

But it was Feinberg's faithful journey that brought her to Wake Forest that really captured me. In her first few paragraphs, she admits her deep desire for acceptance from Georgetown and the work she put toward that application. After the second round of SATs, Feinberg writes: "Neither my parents, myself, nor Georgetown were impressed."

But even before that, before she had fully set out on college applications and extra-extracurricular activites, she had prayed one simple, profound prayer:

Dear God, let me know which school you want me to get into by only allowing me acceptance to one and rejection from the other three.

Wouldn't you know it? She received acceptance from only one school -- Wake Forest University. This example of faith in the journey and trust in the organic God to answer prayer is humbling and enlightening. And it's this deep and humbling faith that I need to find in my own life. For some time now, I have been filling my days looking toward a vague future in ministry.You can ask, but my answer continues to be non-committal and vague. I don’t know what I’m doing or working toward or see on the horizon. And prayer? My prayers continue to be equally non-committal and vague. Perhaps I haven’t found that deep and assuring trust that Margaret’s prayer reflects.

Will I someday be able to ask God to remove the wrong paths? My head is full of examples of God’s grace and power and constancy. But my heart is still weak and afraid—a statement I make with no little pain and some embarrassment. Will I somehow find a way to face God with my greatest fear—that I am not equipped to rise to the level God calls me to?

light.

I haven’t been writing much lately and I have missed the therapy of it. So tonight I’ve intentionally sat here, searching through my exhausted and slightly numbed mind for a topic. I’ve circled around somehow to a conversation I shared with a friend of mine over a year ago.

At the time, I was in a similar place of confusion and chaos. And I was forced to admit to my friend that I wasn’t using the gifts God had given me and that I wasn’t doing what I knew He was calling me to do. The familiar truth is—I was doing my best to stay as far away from God’s voice as I could.

My confession was met with compassion, but also with stark clarity. Katy, he said, this feeling you have—you feel empty and dark? This is the feeling you have when you are away from the light of God.

The transparency of that statement, at that moment and with that person—it cannot be overstated. Its raw truth broke something inside of me. Shattered was the habitual apathy I had begun to feel for myself, a feeling so foreign to my natural being that of course I was out of touch and empty. In its place was a much more painful reality. Through guilt or fear or plain fantasy, I had hidden my need for God in my daily life. Hidden it even from myself.

I’ll be honest—I had tried to cover up God. I covered Him with hateful words and hateful thoughts, directed equally at friends and family and myself. Here, my friend was saying, here is where you end up if you live that way.

In different words than these, he went on to say how he was brought up to know that God gives each of us these wonderfully unique gifts. Rolled up inside of us are our own special God-stories that He means for us to unravel and unleash in this world.

I’d love to say that recognizing my pain led me right back into that God-light, but actually it drove me farther away. At least at first. But my experience and opinion is that, in life, the unraveling far outweighs the unleashing. At least at first.

I’ve found that sometimes God’s paths for us intersect the ones we try to make alone. And we find these moments of intersection in places or ways or people that leave us pleasantly surprised.

But other times, I’ve found that we have to turn around and retrace our steps. We have to walk back through the darkness; this time with an intent and purpose that we didn’t carry with us the first time. And these U-turns can leave us shaky and unsure and even angry. Why wouldn’t God sweep in, take us up and turn us around at the first sign of swampy ground?

But I remember poetic writings in ancient books that speak to me about God having gone before me in all these trials. There are lessons and there is life in our dark, swampy, marshy areas. His is not merely a story of a saved people, but more completely a story of a redeemed people. And mine will never be a story of an enlightened person, but more completely the story of a person who chooses to step out of darkness.

“We will not fear…

…though the earth give way and

the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,

…though its waters roar and foam

and the mountains quake with their surging.

There is a river

whose streams make glad the city of God,

the holy place

where the Most High dwells.

God is within her,

she will not fall;

God will help her at break of day.”

-from Psalm 46

Sincerely.

I want to tell you that I think you are wonderful. I want to tell you that I am who I am today in unspoken ways – ways I don’t even know about yet – because of you in and around and throughout my life. I want to tell you that I feel welcome in this world and relevant in this world because of you. I want to tell you that I would have written this out by hand because that’s so nice and ‘personal’ but I had so many things to write, I couldn’t have been fast enough. I want you to know that I don’t like you. I love you. I want to tell you that that is so much more important and I can’t believe I forgot to put it first.

I want to tell you that I think people who make you feel un-liked are silly people with scrunched up brains and they should all have to sit in time-out in the middle of a small pool. And I will go out and tell them to think about what they’ve done and why they have to sit with their pants all wet and how I don’t care. And I will tell them they were wrong to not be careful with their words and their attitudes. And I will tell them that they should say they are sorry to you.

I should also say ‘I’m sorry’ to you. Because you came to me for a hug and it is a lot easier for me to do that with only my arms than it is with my spirit and my words. I’m sorry for that. Right after you left I thought about why I didn’t have the right words. Why I couldn’t seem to say the right thing. About the words I didn’t seem able to speak.

It is hard for me to see you hurting, which is a sad, silly, selfish excuse for not speaking from my heart. I know you are just a person like I am just a person, but you are also more than that to me. You are part of my story.

That is mostly what I wanted to say.

I am sad for you and hurt for you. I wanted to say that I will carry what I can for you and I would carry more if I could. And I will give you a hug everyday if it will make you feel better. Even on days when I feel like a slob and don’t want anyone to touch me. I will hug you even on those days.

July 8 - 9, 2008 -- Onward!

I just said to Stephanie that I should probably update my journal now that things are good…. Otherwise, it’s sure to look like everything is awful and horrible. We’re both very un-mission-trippy, sitting here on our laptop computers, accessing wireless internet in our dorm-style “hotel” room. This is a new location after leaving our apartment in Krakow—with its IKEA furnished rooms and our own bathroom.

Actually, none of us actually knows where we are. Somewhere outside of Zakopane is our best guess. We arrived yesterday afternoon a couple hours before the Polish campers did and got our bearings, etc. Yesterday was a pretty stress-free day since we weren’t really responsible for anything. Today we started our “teaching” responsibilities… although even that hasn’t really begun. We decided to start out as one large group and held a variety of activities during our time together. Altogether the kids crafted and reasoned and finished:

Puzzle cross – favorite things were written on each piece, with their name in the center. (Stephanie)
Name acrostic – each letter in their first name (or nickname) was used in words to describe themselves somehow. (Katy)
Information card – a basic card with name, city, family info., etc. (Mark)
Photos and frames – each student had a photo taken and then decorated a foam picture frame. (Allan)
Tie-dye shirts – we provided plain white tees to be tie-dyed using dye in squirt bottles, outside of course. (Becky)
Assessments – a necessary process, campers were interviewed and graded on their English language ability in order to be put into appropriate class groupings. (Adam & Karen)

I was really happy with the “station” I covered because I got a really good idea of who the kids are. Their grasp of English varies from person to person a great deal. Surprisingly, one side effect of being overseas and with ESL speakers is that I find myself often thinking in French or Italian. I didn’t expect that to be an issue, but as my empathy kicks in I’m losing some of my English.

Truth be told, I kind of like it because it means I still have a lot of those languages in me. All other traveling I’ve done has involved trying to learn the language of where I am. This is the first experience of trying NOT to use the native language of a country. I will probably digest that issue some more and write about it later, because from the beginning I have had some reservations. It is more a political issue than a church mission issue, but it bothers me to come into another culture with the opinion that our “mission” is to put our language and culture upon them. Underlying all of it seems to be this idea that to succeed in life, no matter where in the world you are from, you should be at least able to conform to American standards, practices and culture. Oh well. So much for writing about it later.

Even with that, I am looking forward to my time here. If it were just to have a break from the craziness of work, it would be worthwhile. After today, I am sure that it will be much more than just a break. I am beginning to feel that I have unique things to offer to some of these kids. Because of my own struggles learning different languages and because I have communicated with ESL speakers often throughout my life. I am excited to see what becomes of my time here.

July 7, 2008 (technically) – No pain, no gain!

I should be asleep in bed, particularly because I have a headache probably due to a lack of sunscreen today. However, it seems to be the night for staying up late since we aren’t leaving for camp until around 10:30 tomorrow.

Picking up where I left off, I am feeling better (headache aside) and slightly more capable of life. I took a little time “off” and walked around alone which was really needed. Perhaps this is strange, but I still felt like I was walking too fast and stopping too often but I also didn’t care about it. With no one else with me I lost that sense of comparison.

Anyway, on my walk, I ended up at a nice park near a cathedral and all the old architectural details that go along with that. It was wonderfully fabulous of course and I took pictures of statues and buildings and this fantastic stone wall along the side of the walkway. It all reminds me of Italy and I find myself translating into Italian in my head a lot. Which is of no use to me at all of course, since I’m in Poland.

July 6, 2008 – Cry baby.

Well, I can’t say things are any more bright and sunny now, although the night’s sleep did help my feet. They were much less stiff this morning, but it still looks to me like a different pair of feet is attached to my legs.

Being a Sunday, today we went to Piotyr’s church, which was a lengthy walk. I can’t say it was much different than the walk from home to school in Florence, but yet again I am assured of how out of shape I am.

The beginning of this trip has so far been a humbling experience. I love traveling and have done enough in my life that I was so sure of myself on this trip. How the mighty have fallen. Instead of being in my element, I am decidedly out of it and down the street from it. I’m reverting to those high school days when walking behind the group meant feeling you weren’t cared for or noticed or important. And even though I am cared for in this group, I still feel like I’m more of a nuisance than a contributing group member.

True to the heart of the trip, however, I am trying very hard to hear God through my complaining. Yesterday, as I was laying flat on my back with my feet up, I had a very distinctive “I want my Mommy” moment. I wanted to cry and curl up and feel sorry for myself and I wanted everyone else to feel sorry for me too. I wanted for no one to want to go into town and for everything around me to stop. And maybe also for someone to fetch me water and chocolate. Of course, that’s not what happened. People did want to go into town and I was left all alone with my bad attitude and stupid fat feet.

Okay, I know that doesn’t really sound like an effort at discerning God’s voice. But as I was having my Mommy-moment, I thought about being a child and all the behavior and emotion that goes with it. I thought, Here I am, the big, bad world traveler. Here I am, wiping off the sweat and tears and pride from my face. Here I am, humbled and hurting and wanting. And I am reminded that at my weakest is when I am often at my worst. I am more selfish and petty and I try so hard—in all the wrong ways—to look better than I am.

So yes, here I am. I have swollen feet and big puffy hair from the heat. And here I am, with 5 band-aids covering a slice in my arm from where I ran into the corner of breaker box… after choking on communion wine. Still, despite the bitching and moaning, and occasional thoughts to the contrary, here is where I am and here is where I want to be. Well, maybe that’s not entirely the truth, but here is definitely where I want to want to be.

(But for the record: Preferably without the marshmallow feet.)

July 4 – Happy Independence Day… good-bye work, hello mission.

In this, my version of a journal, I guess I would classify the days leading up to leaving for Poland as chaotic with a touch of insanity. Somehow I thought I would easily be able to clean my house, do my laundry, sort and pack my clothes, and finish all my work for while I’m gone. I know… kind of dumb. I was able to do a lot of those things, but most of it was a half-assed job.

I’m sure there are things I forgot to let people know about at work, I packed more than I need and I may have left laundry in the dryer. At least I know my cats are being fed … but I think I forgot to tell my landlord that someone will be there. 

As for the trip itself—well… I think I may be in a “mood” or maybe it’s just coming off of at least six weeks of crazy workdays. Anyway, I feel basically like crap. And worse, I’ve felt that way almost the whole way here. I feel too old to hang out with the youth and too young to have anything in common with the older adults. I feel like I packed way too much for me to handle, which makes me feel in the way and left behind at the same time. On the planes I feel fidgety and too fat for the seats. 

And speaking of the plane ride, I’ve had an interestingly awful experience this trip. My feet have ballooned and swelled to at least 1 ½ to two times their size. It is horribly uncomfortable and even though I’ve now been off the plane for … … almost 8 hours, my feet are still swollen. My prayer, my wish, and my plea is for them to be back to normal tomorrow. As it is, they are a constant, painful reminder of how out-of-shape I am and how easy it is to feel left out. 

Tomorrow we are planning to go to the Krakow salt mines. This involves walking down a seemingly unending flight of stairs at the bottom of which you begin exploring this underground mini-city. If my feet are still the size of footballs, I don’t see how it will be possible for me to go. It makes me want to cry. It’s not the thought of the salt mines in particular, but just the feeling of being unable to do something because of my own physical condition. 

Somewhere deep inside it feels like this is what I deserve because of choices I’ve made and things I’ve done to my body. That doesn’t make me want to cry any less. I also feel like I’m being whiny or that I’m blowing things out of proportion, but the truth is—I have never seen my ankles & feet looking the way they do now. If I were at home, I would probably be seeing a doctor. I’m feeling a little scared… and praying, wishing and pleading for the lesson to be made clear and the pain to go on its way.

Stephanie and Becky explore the neighborhood...

In the main city square...

Some church I found?

In Krakow... the street where our weekend apartment was...

rainbows.

My friend Megan goes to the same church as me. Every Thursday night, from September to June, I have dinner with Megan and her mom. It’s a high-point of my week and when I’m with them, I feel blessed and loved and understood. Megan is five years old and she has autism.

We met when Megan was two and her mom would bring her to a store where I worked. In those first days, Megan was in a stroller and couldn’t walk on her own. She had no verbal skills and would almost never make eye contact. She was in her own world and had very few bridges to let others in.

Megan and I have come a long way from those days. We now see each other at church instead of the mall and Megan walks and talks and makes connections with lots of people. She still has trouble making eye contact and needs a reminder to use her words but from those first days of our friendship—she is a different child.

Along this path we’ve walked together I have been so blessed by this little girl who is truly a friend. Megan has taught me the truth of unexpected, undeserved, and truly unconditional, love. Not because of how I have come to love her, but because of how she has loved me.

In the beginning and still in many ways to this day, Megan thinks highly of only three people—her mom, her first teacher, and me. For no reason what-so-ever, Megan took it upon herself to love me. And no one loves as an autistic child loves. With Megan I am invited into a new world. A world that exists inside and around and throughout this mundane world that everyone else sees.

In this world there are mysteries around every corner. In this world, green is a magic and wonderful and most beautiful color and it should be on every surface we can possibly touch. In this world there should always be frosting and no cake. In this world, chocolate is made out of moon sand and a broken lightbulb is as dire and distressing as a broken heart.

With Megan I eat tacos from the inside out and bananas from the bottom down. And I watercolor just to color water.

Megan has given me tools I never knew I needed. I’ve learned to embrace my life in a way that I didn’t do before her and couldn’t do without her. Through my friendship with Megan and her mom, I have met other children with autism. And I have begun to open my eyes to the beauty of God’s creation. A beauty that makes itself known in tubs full of lima beans and rice and in purple shaving cream.

Today I sat in a circle with seven of these children—my new friends—and watched them making music with colored bells. After the last resounding chorus a tiny voice reached up from next to me and whispered, that sound was a rainbow. It was the best secret I’ve ever been told.

cel•e•brate

cel·e·brate – to make known publicly; to proclaim; to praise widely or to present to widespread and favorable public notice; to have or participate in a party

What if every moment of worship was a celebration? Imagine if each praised-filled moment we spent with him was filled with games and balloons and cotton candy. And spinning round and round with our arms stretched straight out until we fell and looked up at the twirling world around us.

Sometimes all that we see is that swirling, twirling, out of control world. We can be distracted from the calm and beauty and grace of the flowers on the trees and the colors on each bird and the music within us and around us. Yet still we are invited into this daily celebration! Every moment—alone or together, in the front or falling back, happy or hurried—every moment is an invitation to join the party.

Bring your friends and your family and your gifts and feel the rush of worship around you! Sing or dance or clap your hands! Laugh and love and learn—and don’t forget the joy of spinning round and round with your arms stretched out. And of falling into arms that will catch you and cradle you with love.

prayer.

One of my favorite things during the contemporary worship at my church is the prayer time. It’s the communal aspect of sharing prayer requests—the painful and the praise-filled, the simple and the profound. I find my perspective is widened when I hear what others are going through in their lives. It reminds me of the grace of God in our lives as individuals but in that special time of worship, I glimpse what God is doing in our one united life as a church.

Prayer in a personal sense and in my everyday life has always been a difficult thing for me. I find the most meaning in personal prayer when I speak out loud. I am not an on-my-knees kind of pray–er, nor do my prayers ever have much structure. Those rare nights when I do take the time to pray, as I 'lay me down to sleep' I struggle with feeling foolish. Foolish in the things I say which at times seem without depth or honest substance. In my head and in my heart, I know that all things should be taken to God in prayer, but in my gut I often feel petty, selfish, self-righteous, hypocritical and superficial.

Those times I ‘pray the Lord my soul to keep’—I’m not thinking about peace or the environment or wasted resources or consumerism or Tibet or women’s rights or gay & lesbian rights or tolerance or discernment for the church. I care deeply about all these things and more, but I don’t find myself bringing any of these things to my conversation with God. Instead I am plagued by prayer requests, pleas really, of a much lower variety. Help me stop eating fast food at midnight. Help me make music again—my music. Help me start exercising. Help me not feel guilty so often. Lead me not into temptation. Deliver me from evil. Help me love myself.

Prayer is a funny thing. We have unison prayers, prayers of confession, pastoral prayers, prayers for peace, the Lord’s Prayer, prayers of the people, prayer responses, a National Day of Prayer. In January, my church congregation and several others shared in an ecumenical prayer celebration to recognize a week of prayer for Christian unity. We sat on cold pew benches in Saint Brigid of Kildare Catholic Church and sang hymns and songs meant to unite us in spirit and purpose. Different denominations were represented throughout the service in the welcome, the confession, unison readings, scripture; all the elements of the service were shared. And, of course, we prayed. The celebration was titled: Pray Without Ceasing.

In her message, the pastor spoke of the Holy Spirit as a river running underground. Although pools may form on the surface, the river is constant. It is in motion below us and we do not need to see it or touch it or hear it for the water to flow. Like that river, the Holy Spirit is below us and above us and around us. And we do not need to see it or touch it or hear it for it to carry our prayers in its current.

In truth, God doesn’t require a structured, formulated prayer in order to hear my needs and know what is in my heart. God knows my pain and distress about peace and the environment and all human rights and about the church. I am loved and heard and cared about. I am riding the river and sometimes I see its presence in pools of assurance and springs of grace. But even when I feel dried up or barren or hopeless, the river rages on under me and above me and all around me.

“ Always be joyful. Never stop praying.
Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will
for you to belong to Christ Jesus.
Do not stifle the Holy Spirit.
Do not scoff at prophecies,
but do test everything that is said.
Hold on to what is good.
Stay away from every kind of evil.
May the God of peace make you holy in every way,
and may your whole spirit and soul and body
be kept blameless until our Lord Jesus Christ comes again.
God will make this happen, for he who calls you is faithful. ”
—from 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24 (New Living Translation)

I know it's cliche... but where does the time go? I'll be back with a more 'thoughtful' update, but it's been a busy couple weeks. Things are slowing down though so I can catch up with all sorts of day-to-day stuff! (I need to introduce my dishes to a sponge...)

Psalm 121

I lift up my eyes to the hills--where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip--he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you--the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm--he will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

Best Laid Plans

Sometimes it feels like everything around me is about schedules.

At the coffee shop, it's about scheduling shifts over the week: Who needs this day off? Who can only work in the morning? Who can work but is probably going to be hungover?

At the church, it's about scheduling events over the course of a year: When will new members join? Which choir is singing on each Sunday? When is it NOT a three-day weekend, to schedule the children's groups?

If it's not about actual Sunday morning worship, it's all the special events that happen. Soon it becomes less about 'schedules' and more about 'conflicts.' Then you're really in trouble. Don't schedule one choir because the other choir is available. Don't put that special event at the start of deer season. Aren't most kids gone at camp... do you really want that activity scheduled? Or I like this best: let's schedule a meeting to talk about these schedules. (Yeah; I have so much free time to do that.)

I just went through most of last year's files and pulled a year-long music schedule, three or four different choir schedules, my own personal schedule, the proposed school-year schedule, events that conflicted during last year's schedules..... Oy. All to come up with more schedules.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think there's anything wrong with having an organized schedule. In fact, one of my favorite things to do is to sit down with my day-planner and look at an upcoming week. It sits open in front of me and I can fill in little appointments, draw arrows during my coffee shop shifts, write down little to-do notes on the appropriate days. There is a sense of excitement as I take in everything that I hope to accomplish in the coming days. (Also, my brain is so full of senseless information that there is no way I would keep anything straight without my not-so-little black book.)

But.

What about those time-slots with no appointments, no arrows, no shifts? This is where I have my problem. I have become so accustomed to filling my days with 'business' or indeed 'busy-ness' that I feel guilty about unscheduled time.

Unwashed laundry, dirty dishes, and an empty refrigerator is the practical result of my need to fill my days. I'm nit-wit enough to become caught up in the To-dos of each day that my internal pendulum swings too far and I don't do anything that's NOT in my to-dos. I mean really? Should I really have to write down 'wash your dishes'?

And in my faith-life... oh boy. I schedule church. I schedule bible-study. I schedule choir practice. I work at a church, so I even have scheduled meetings in scheduled rooms with scheduled prayer. It's not like it's forced on me, it's just right there. I know it's coming. I'm ready, I'm prepared, I've drawn my arrow and reserved that time.

Now, scheduling time for faith, meditation, fasting, study, etc., I don't think that's bad. In fact, most leaders in my life have pointed out the importance of setting aside time for those things. When we do that, we are making a choice to hold our faith and spiritual life to a high importance. But in my life, it is sometimes the opposite. I can get so caught up in doing my 'job', that all of my scheduled 'faith' time is about just that - a job.

Our yearly 'gathering of the schedules' and the related upcoming meetings will this year serve another purpose for me. As I look forward and begin to plan for the months ahead, I will embrace those 'unscheduled' blocks of time. When I see an hour without an arrow, I will not seek out a new appointment. Instead, I will think of what amazing and spontaneous things might happen when that hour is at hand. Perhaps I will feel like a walk at the nature center, maybe I'll go to this great hill I know and fly a kite, or I could open a book I haven't 'had time' to read.

Life is full of opportunities, I'm learning. It just takes a little planning ... or perhaps a little un-planning.

Simply put

I think when I started this blog it was as a way for me to practice getting thoughts in order on 'paper' (or in this case a computer screen). Honestly, I'm not exactly sure what compelled me, but I wanted a new blog.

It's like that feeling you get when you buy a new notebook and write on the very first page--anything seems possible at the beginning--'maybe this notebook will be the one I finally write a book on' or 'surely this notebook will help me organize my schedules.' In school it was more about the start of classes or a new subject. Always it was the beginning and what would follow was unknown.

With a blog there isn't really a road-map the way there was in school. Instead, I pressure myself when it comes to a blog. Is it a diary? Is it a place for 'innermost thoughts'? I don't think so, because let's be honest. This is one of the most public forums available. Depending on your settings, anyone in the world can access these thoughts. Anyone who uses an online blog as a diary is setting themselves up.

Instead, perhaps this is a soapbox? (As in, get down off your soapbox!) If that's the case, than there aren't any rules, outside of my own, and I get to be right about everything. While that appeals to me as much as the next person, I don't think I want a place where I can be right about everything. (No really - that's true!)

For me, my grand hope for a blog (this one or any other) is that I can make it a jumping off point for my thoughts about the world around me. How do I fit? Where are the moments that clarify for me what my place is? Still, at other times, this is a place to land. A place to put down the answers I might have found that day. Perhaps the answers won't be 'permanent' but I don't think much in life is permanent.

I guess what I'm saying is this; if I use a voice that is too strong at times or hold a position that seems too immovable or judgmental--well, I hope I won't. I'm not an immovable or judgmental person, but the written word is awfully different from the hands-flailing type of communication I normally participate in. I just know that I am tired of being diplomatic. I'm tired of having strong thoughts but watered-down speech.

So, should anyone ever actually read this, I hope you'll give me a chance.

Faith in Action

It seems to me that whenever I'm part of a study, the scripture we are dealing with suddenly becomes relevant to everything around me. Out of the blue I begin to see a connection from John's vision of Rome in the book of Revelation, to our own over-consumption and mistreatment of power here in the United States. Before Christmas, we read through some of Isaiah and the message of the season deepened into a much more mysterious, ultimate feeling of truth.

Recently my young adult group began a study of the book of Acts. From my readings, there seems to be a debate about whether Luke or John is the author of this book. Either way, Acts follows the Gospels not just in the Bible, but it is historically chronological as well. (Basically, Acts picks up where MML&J leave off.) This time, the stick-with me passage is this:

"All the believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, and to fellowship, and to sharing in meals, and to prayer. A deep sense of awe came over them all, and the apostles performed many miraculous signs and wonders. And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had.

"They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need. They worshiped together at the Temple each day, met in homes for the Lord’s Supper, and shared their meals with great joy and sincere hearts—all the while praising God and enjoying the goodwill of all the people. And each day the Lord added to their fellowship those who were being saved."
-Acts 2:42-47 (New Living Translation)

In my bible translation (NIV) this section is also referred to by: "Fellowship of Believers." These few verses essentially describe a healthy church - what it takes to be one, what it will look like when you are one, and how a healthy church is sustainable. The question was put forward: Is it possible today to have community as described here in the first days of Christianity? What would this 'fellowship' really look like and do we see similar communities in our world?

I am often very cynical but have rare moments of idealism and optimism. In terms of my personality, I am definitely a glass-half-full kind of gal, but in matters of religion and faith ... well, just make sure whatever's in your glass is water not kool-aid.

Anyway, when I consider this passage, I am struck with rare optimism. Certainly there must have been a feeling of urgency within Peter and John, and in all the apostles, that they needed to communicate the message and truth they had witnessed and been part of. These men had lived with Christ, shared meals with him, listened daily to his words and teachings. They knew Jesus in the casually intimate way that friends have with one another, and they had seen him die for all to see--their teacher, friend and savior. And then they had seen him after death. When he should have been decomposing in a tomb, Jesus was instead seen alive by many people, including his grief-stricken friends and disciples.

In this passage of Acts, Peter has already given a great speech which has brought 3,000+ people into this fellowship. Maybe some would say this is the early church, although the 'early church' is not in my opinion related to the way our churches seem today. What is so important to me to read though, is the hope this passage gives to me as a leader in today's church.

"They worshiped together...met in homes...shared their meals with great joy and sincere hearts—all the while praising God and enjoying the goodwill of all the people. And each day the Lord added to their fellowship those who were being saved." (paraphrase)

People saw joy in the celebration and praise of God--they were drawn into that joy because of the clearly positive effect it had on Christ-followers.

A friend told me of a devotion she had read on this same passage.

Put in my own words:
Think of confetti. It conjures images of joy, happiness, being with friends. Confetti is made of many different pieces, if seperated those pieces would be considered garbage or litter. But together, confetti exudes a joy that draws us together and invites others closer.

I think we could all use a little more confetti in our churches and in our lives.

Renting a Room

Every Tuesday I meet with four other women at my church to discuss a redesign project for our church website. We just started about a month ago on what is proving to be a big project. (Who knew I'd have to explain that "site map" is not some phrase I made up?)

Anyway, yesterday when we met we brought with us some pros & cons we've found browsing around the beloved world wide web. My favorite: One church website included a link to "Rentals." Announced across the top of the page--

"My Father's house has many rooms....
Some of those rooms are for rent."

I found this hilarious. As I thought of it later during my car ride home, I remembered this Audio Adrenaline song "Big House":

All I know, it's a big ol' house with rooms for everyone.
All I know, it's lots of land where we can play and run.
All I know is you need love and I've got a family.
All I know is you're all alone, so why not come with me?

The theme here being that there is a place for everyone in God's house. I've always looked at this passage as one of those after-life, heavenward, i'n't-that-so-sweet-with-the-angels-singin' metaphors. What if instead we thought of our God-rooms as in the here and now?

I've recently been rearranging furniture in my house. Spring always causes me to 'nest.' Whenever I rearrange a room, I feel a renewal each time I'm in the space. My bedroom is always first. Waking up to a new view after so many dreary, gray winter mornings makes a remarkable change in the way I face each day.

I think we could all use a little 'rearranging' after a long time with the same view. If you were to peek at your room in that party-house in Heaven, what do you suppose it would look like? What posters would line the walls? Maybe they'd be full of pictures, blue ribbons, coloring book pages, deer heads, those fuzzy paint-by-number things.... Perhaps you'd take a page from HDTV and have a boldly painted 'accent wall' and tastefully decorated, feng-shuied space.

Certainly there isn't any right or wrong answer (although the deer head thing is a little icky). I think more importantly the question is do we, as the church-link infers, think of our rooms--our 'rentals'--as rooms in the Father's house? In our houses of worship and spiritual spaces, do we take stock as a visitor or an owner?

Perhaps one person on this earth who truly understood what it was to be a visitor was Jesus. He was undeniably a visitor each day of his last years on earth, as he traveled from city to city, household to household. Before his trial and ultimate execution, Jesus spoke to his disciples and in an effort to comfort them, was recorded as saying this:

"...There is more than enough room in my Father’s home.
If this were not so, would I have told you that
I am going to prepare a place for you?
When everything is ready, I will come and get you,
so that you will always be with me where I am."
-John 14:2-3 (New Living Translation)

I like this statement of there being 'more than enough room' for everyone. We find ourselves in a bankrupt climate of mortgage crises, poor real estate markets and remarkably high rental prices. Now, as always, it is so important to have a clear view of the 'house' that is God's house. In God's house, there are many, many rooms; there are rooms even beyond what are needed--more than enough room. It is a big, big house where you find love and family. Do our church homes hold true to that standard? Do we find room for everyone?

If indeed we are just visitors, as Christ was, and trust that he has gone ahead to prepare a place for us, is it so much to think that we should work as hard to prepare a place for him? Each year more and more people turn away from what is seen as 'the church' because it's become dilapidated housing. It is no longer a comforting shelter from the storm or a welcoming beacon in the night. I'm not so sure we've 'kept a light on' for seekers so much as we've slapped up a No Vacancy sign.

We most definitely do not invite visitors to slap up some wallpaper, hang up their favorite posters, paint little blue checks on the ceiling, or even, dare I say, nail up one of those singing fish things. Metaphorically speaking, I don't think we ask or expect people to 'make themselves at home.'

As Christ-followers who should strive to be seeker-friendly, that is just what we should invite people to do. Who knows? Maybe that next person with the 'crazy' ideas will do just the rearranging we need for a clear, refreshing view. Certainly if God can hold a room for each of us in his house, we can make room for a few more in ours.

Introductions are always in style

We'll call this the preface to my blog... some introductions for any interested folks out there.

Like many my age, I have more than one job and I love them both. I am, on one hand, the music coordinator at a good sized church in mid-Michigan. With the other hand, I am a "barista" (fancy for coffee-maker) at an independent shoppe down the street from my church.

I grew up here ... in this city, in my church, and at this coffee shop (where I'm currently beginning this blog-venture). I never considered myself a "hometown" kind of girl, but I suppose that's what I've become. You'll have to take my word for it, but a circular path was not what I set out upon.

Here is where I am though and happy with it for now.