I'm pretty forgetful in real life. (My keys are always running away.)
Some days, I feel like I could seriously lose my mind. It seems like I live at one end or the other of two extremes. Either so much going on I can't think, or not enough going on and I have too much time to do nothing but think. I have a feeling I'm not alone in this.
Sometimes I have to remind myself of stuff. Like this sort of stuff. Maybe you need to be reminded of some stuff, too.
You're allowed to be weak, even when you think it's silly. Especially when you're at work and you're frustrated because you're folding the same table of dress pants for the fourth time...in the past hour. Go in the bathroom and let the tears escape. Then put on some fresh lip gloss and get back on your feet. Your shift will be over soon enough.
You are resilient. Remember the time in your life when you were in another country, and your host mother didn't like you? Remember when that lady in church tried to ruin your reputation? Remember how you moved 10 hours away from your family to place where you didn't know anyone? Remember, you survived those things. You will survive this, too.
Show yourself some grace. The only person pressuring you to have all the answers right now is you. Silence the voices in your head long enough to make peace with the fact that you're human. You don't have to have it all together. Not every decision you make is life or death. If you want to make a big move in life, do it. If it doesn't work out, then move on. You hear me, Annie? The sun will come out tomorrow.
God is faithful. You will fall down in life. You will also get back up. He is the one who started the good work in you, and He promises to see it through infinity. God's faithfulness is not dependent on your performance.
You have worth. It's hard to imagine that a God who speaks oceans into being created you in His image, but He did. Joy. Grace. Peace. Victory. This is your inheritance. Sometimes you just have to proclaim things like this until you believe them.
Alone is not an option, even if you wanted it to be.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Genie in a Bread Pan
I’m lucky that my mind is barely in tact.
Resistance, persistence, repeat.
My mind has a mind of its own. I’m not sure if I’ll ever breathe easy
again. Call me drama but call me
human. Maybe I’m not the crazy one –
maybe the world has us so numb we wouldn’t know righteousness if it threw
itself at us in an empty bar. Don’t look
at me like you know something I don’t, as though your life experience should be
teaching me something. Appease, release,
repeat. No thanks.
All I want to do is get through the day in tact.
Color me human.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
This Little Light - Part 2
A gentlemen came into Express the other day and spent a lot of money. Like $350. For us girls, that's nothing. But I've never seen a guy drop $350 on so much clothing. It was like he was filling up a newly built closet.
"About time for that new spring wardrobe?" I asked him.
"Well, not really." He smiled and looked down. "I kind of don't have anything to wear right now." He bent down and sifted through the twenty rows argyle socks. He picked the black and grey ones.
"You look well dressed to me!" He looked really nice in fact. I wondered if he needed a job. We could use another guy with some fashion sense. He was probably in his late twenties, blonde hair, clean shaven, wearing dress shoes. What did we do with those job applications?
"It's complicated I guess. She made me leave. And I didn't have time to pack anything. So....yeah. I need some clothes." Oh.
"Are you married?" It was only after asking that and wishing I hadn't did I notice his thick gold wedding band.
"For right now I guess." He offered a nervous laugh, still not looking me in the eye. I stayed behind the cash wrap as he picked more socks. Purple and grey. Teal and navy.
"I'm sure it's not all lost. How long have you been married?" Why am I asking these questions?
"Seven years." Wow. He stood after choosing his fourth pair of socks to get the four for $25 promotional deal. He set down the socks and looked at me.
"I guess the hard part is that we have a kid. He's one and a half. That's what makes it really hard, you know? We have a son. Yeah, sorry to get all serious on you. But yeah." He offered another nervous laugh and ran his hand through his hair. "That's why I need some clothes."
"Marriage is definitely hard. Trust me, I understand. Did you get married young?"
"Oh, yeah. I was 23," he said as he examined the same sweater in blue and in cream.
"Me too. I was 21." Now I was the one looking down. "And I like the cream one."
"You got married young, too? Yeah, so I'm sure you know." He set the blue sweater aside and added the cream one to the top of his pile.
"You have no idea," I said. Now who's getting weird and personal? "Well, you must. But you're certainly not alone. Marriage is hard, I'm with you."
I took his socks and set them on the other side of the desk next to his large pile. T-shirts, sweaters, a cardigan, a flannel shirt, colored dress pants, and socks. Four pairs of them. Oh, and the cream sweater.
He followed around to the other side and pulled out his wallet. "Do you have good friends in Greenville?" I asked as I started ringing and taking the censors off his new wardrobe. I wondered how long he'd have to wear these clothes. How long would it take before she let him move back in? I bet she was hurting too. I started to pray in my head.
"Oh yeah. The best. I have really good friends. Good friends from church. I think that's the best part about the whole thing. I found Jesus, or He found me rather. I always knew about God growing up, but never about a relationship with Him. Like I grew up in a Christian home and stuff. Went to church. I never really understood it though. But now I do. God had to break me in order for me to see Him clearly. And it definitely worked. I don't think He does that with everyone, but with me. It's probably the only way He could've gotten my attention. I have a lot of pride."
Wow. Tell me how you really feel.
"That's really great. It's good you see Him more clearly now. That's the most important thing. Jesus, you know."
At the sound of His name, he looked up at me for only the second time.
"I really wouldn't change my situation for the world right now, because I wouldn't have seen Him there. I used to be wild, and now I'm paying for it. She was done with it. And it sucks, but it's okay, because there's grace. God is forgiving me. There's grace with Jesus. I wouldn't change anything right now."
"Wow. That's really brave of you to say. You definitely can't out-sin the grace of God."
"I'm experiencing that for sure. Thanks for your help. And for, uh, listening? Anyways. See you later."
I handed him his bags and he was gone.
And it got me thinking, maybe there's a place for us, you know? And there's a place for the parts of ourselves we'd rather leave on shelves to collect dust. God is in the redemption business. All the stuff that happens to us and all the stuff we bring upon ourselves. He is redeeming it. God said he was making ALL things new. Not just the stuff we decide is appropriate to be redeemed or worthy of His efforts.
Do you know that you're worth His time? He thought enough of you to step out of heaven. He thought enough of His creation to breathe life into it despite it. He formed you from ash and dust. And He's redeeming you in this moment.
Do you know redemption is a process? Sanctification doesn't happen overnight.
Remember what I said about letting no place be left unlit? (If not, you can read about it here.) Even in a retail store, God cared enough to remind a guy whose marriage was falling apart and the girl ringing him up at the counter of the truth we all so often forget and so often need to be reminded of:
you are not alone. You are never alone.
"About time for that new spring wardrobe?" I asked him.
"Well, not really." He smiled and looked down. "I kind of don't have anything to wear right now." He bent down and sifted through the twenty rows argyle socks. He picked the black and grey ones.
"You look well dressed to me!" He looked really nice in fact. I wondered if he needed a job. We could use another guy with some fashion sense. He was probably in his late twenties, blonde hair, clean shaven, wearing dress shoes. What did we do with those job applications?
"It's complicated I guess. She made me leave. And I didn't have time to pack anything. So....yeah. I need some clothes." Oh.
"Are you married?" It was only after asking that and wishing I hadn't did I notice his thick gold wedding band.
"For right now I guess." He offered a nervous laugh, still not looking me in the eye. I stayed behind the cash wrap as he picked more socks. Purple and grey. Teal and navy.
"I'm sure it's not all lost. How long have you been married?" Why am I asking these questions?
"Seven years." Wow. He stood after choosing his fourth pair of socks to get the four for $25 promotional deal. He set down the socks and looked at me.
"I guess the hard part is that we have a kid. He's one and a half. That's what makes it really hard, you know? We have a son. Yeah, sorry to get all serious on you. But yeah." He offered another nervous laugh and ran his hand through his hair. "That's why I need some clothes."
"Marriage is definitely hard. Trust me, I understand. Did you get married young?"
"Oh, yeah. I was 23," he said as he examined the same sweater in blue and in cream.
"Me too. I was 21." Now I was the one looking down. "And I like the cream one."
"You got married young, too? Yeah, so I'm sure you know." He set the blue sweater aside and added the cream one to the top of his pile.
"You have no idea," I said. Now who's getting weird and personal? "Well, you must. But you're certainly not alone. Marriage is hard, I'm with you."
I took his socks and set them on the other side of the desk next to his large pile. T-shirts, sweaters, a cardigan, a flannel shirt, colored dress pants, and socks. Four pairs of them. Oh, and the cream sweater.
He followed around to the other side and pulled out his wallet. "Do you have good friends in Greenville?" I asked as I started ringing and taking the censors off his new wardrobe. I wondered how long he'd have to wear these clothes. How long would it take before she let him move back in? I bet she was hurting too. I started to pray in my head.
"Oh yeah. The best. I have really good friends. Good friends from church. I think that's the best part about the whole thing. I found Jesus, or He found me rather. I always knew about God growing up, but never about a relationship with Him. Like I grew up in a Christian home and stuff. Went to church. I never really understood it though. But now I do. God had to break me in order for me to see Him clearly. And it definitely worked. I don't think He does that with everyone, but with me. It's probably the only way He could've gotten my attention. I have a lot of pride."
Wow. Tell me how you really feel.
"That's really great. It's good you see Him more clearly now. That's the most important thing. Jesus, you know."
At the sound of His name, he looked up at me for only the second time.
"I really wouldn't change my situation for the world right now, because I wouldn't have seen Him there. I used to be wild, and now I'm paying for it. She was done with it. And it sucks, but it's okay, because there's grace. God is forgiving me. There's grace with Jesus. I wouldn't change anything right now."
"Wow. That's really brave of you to say. You definitely can't out-sin the grace of God."
"I'm experiencing that for sure. Thanks for your help. And for, uh, listening? Anyways. See you later."
I handed him his bags and he was gone.
And it got me thinking, maybe there's a place for us, you know? And there's a place for the parts of ourselves we'd rather leave on shelves to collect dust. God is in the redemption business. All the stuff that happens to us and all the stuff we bring upon ourselves. He is redeeming it. God said he was making ALL things new. Not just the stuff we decide is appropriate to be redeemed or worthy of His efforts.
Do you know that you're worth His time? He thought enough of you to step out of heaven. He thought enough of His creation to breathe life into it despite it. He formed you from ash and dust. And He's redeeming you in this moment.
Do you know redemption is a process? Sanctification doesn't happen overnight.
It's an uphill, gravel road. And we're all barefoot.
Remember what I said about letting no place be left unlit? (If not, you can read about it here.) Even in a retail store, God cared enough to remind a guy whose marriage was falling apart and the girl ringing him up at the counter of the truth we all so often forget and so often need to be reminded of:
you are not alone. You are never alone.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
This Little Light - Part 1
I drank a Sprite at the movies today. I never drink Sprite.
I should've known something in me was about to surface.
I've been feeling really conflicted lately. Like, really conflicted. About graduate school, about what vocational direction to take, if there is any redemptive quality in the stirrings of my soul that don't include vocational ministry.
I no longer feel conflicted. I feel torn in half. I'm trying to zip myself up like a black hooded sweatshirt with a silver zipper that fits together perfectly - every other little notch fitting just right. When it's apart, it doesn't seem like it will fit together, no matter how hard I try. And if you take both sides and just try to push them together without the zipper, it won't fit. There's no way you could make those fit. They need something to guide them together. To weave them. To direct them. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that God is the zipper. He's the zipper. Only with Him at the center does it make any sense that these two ridiculously shaped pieces of metal would not only somehow fit together, but serve a function. And it's simple, but it makes sense, so I'm holding tightly to it. Nothing has made sense to me in a while.
You see, I got this ministry degree and was full of ambition and passion for the Gospel and carrying that out in vocational ministry. Since then, I feel like there's no place for me. Of course this world isn't our home so we shouldn't feel too comfortable, but I mean no place in ministry as my paid, full-time job. Most recently, I decided to give vocational ministry a rest. Stick it in a trunk at the foot of my bed and let it just rest for a while. What prompted this? (Are you sitting down?)
A lady at a church where I was working spread a multitude of lies about me to the degree where it would not only tear apart my professional reputation, but tear at my heart a little. Okay, a lot. I remember getting the phone call. It was a Sunday night.
"I just think you should know what's being said about you."
I was shocked. And horrified. And humiliated. And slightly amused at the ridiculousness of the whole accusation.
Stealing money?! Like, from the church?? Are you kidding me? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Clearly she can't prove that. All of my receipts for the church credit card are accounted for. How could I steal from a credit card? ...wait, she told parents this? Did you just say she has told students this???
It just continued to get worse. After the anger subsided, I cried a lot. A LOT. How could people be so mean? This was worse than the time in middle school when girls on the bus made up a TV show where the whole plot was different ways they killed me. (I later learned they totally copied this idea off South Park. How unoriginal.) These accusations were investigated of course, and proven untrue. But despite that, I left the job I moved to South Carolina to take.
A graduate school professor told me recently that when it comes to your vocation, you have two things - your skills, and your reputation, and you must maintain both. Your skills are all on you. The tricky part is your reputation, because others can try and mess with that one. It is within your rights to preserve your reputation. This is your life. You have a right to preserve those things. You are worthy of self-respect. And I must have agreed with her.
Can I tell you something? I just wanted to love those kids. Tell those sweet and fragile teenage girls they have a chance at something more than pregnancy at 15 years old and being kicked out of school. That there's this Jesus who not only loves them, but created them and knit them together so beautifully. What more could I want to do, you know? I just want them to know there's something else out there for them. That there is a place for them in this world. And that God will hold them the whole way. That God is rooting for them. He's in their corner. I just wanted them to know that. And I guess I want you to know that too or I wouldn't be typing this right now.
There's a place for you. There's a place for all of us. God is in your corner. Take a break from all of this theological "God is in God's corner" stuff. God loves and embraces you just as you are right now, in this moment, as you read these words. Do you know that? Regardless of whether you're confused or torn doing what you thought you'd be doing three years after graduating college. God can awaken new passions in you. He blesses us with desires and talents beyond what we were capable of when we were eighteen years old. And we should embrace those, you know? Because our God is big, and He made this world awfully big, and He uses a lot of people to do a lot of different things.
If we went to a restaurant where there were no lights, it'd be incredibly difficult to see the menu and order or eat anything. If it were dark in a store, you wouldn't be able to tell if the things you picked out were the things in your list. I guess what I'm saying is as God's children, we don't want to leave any corner of this place unlit. Whether it's retail stores or restaurants or golf courses or power plants. Do you know how dangerous it is when places are left in pure darkness? God is here, and He put you here to be a light.
A light unto the world.
I should've known something in me was about to surface.
I've been feeling really conflicted lately. Like, really conflicted. About graduate school, about what vocational direction to take, if there is any redemptive quality in the stirrings of my soul that don't include vocational ministry.
I no longer feel conflicted. I feel torn in half. I'm trying to zip myself up like a black hooded sweatshirt with a silver zipper that fits together perfectly - every other little notch fitting just right. When it's apart, it doesn't seem like it will fit together, no matter how hard I try. And if you take both sides and just try to push them together without the zipper, it won't fit. There's no way you could make those fit. They need something to guide them together. To weave them. To direct them. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that God is the zipper. He's the zipper. Only with Him at the center does it make any sense that these two ridiculously shaped pieces of metal would not only somehow fit together, but serve a function. And it's simple, but it makes sense, so I'm holding tightly to it. Nothing has made sense to me in a while.
You see, I got this ministry degree and was full of ambition and passion for the Gospel and carrying that out in vocational ministry. Since then, I feel like there's no place for me. Of course this world isn't our home so we shouldn't feel too comfortable, but I mean no place in ministry as my paid, full-time job. Most recently, I decided to give vocational ministry a rest. Stick it in a trunk at the foot of my bed and let it just rest for a while. What prompted this? (Are you sitting down?)
A lady at a church where I was working spread a multitude of lies about me to the degree where it would not only tear apart my professional reputation, but tear at my heart a little. Okay, a lot. I remember getting the phone call. It was a Sunday night.
"I just think you should know what's being said about you."
I was shocked. And horrified. And humiliated. And slightly amused at the ridiculousness of the whole accusation.
Stealing money?! Like, from the church?? Are you kidding me? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Clearly she can't prove that. All of my receipts for the church credit card are accounted for. How could I steal from a credit card? ...wait, she told parents this? Did you just say she has told students this???
It just continued to get worse. After the anger subsided, I cried a lot. A LOT. How could people be so mean? This was worse than the time in middle school when girls on the bus made up a TV show where the whole plot was different ways they killed me. (I later learned they totally copied this idea off South Park. How unoriginal.) These accusations were investigated of course, and proven untrue. But despite that, I left the job I moved to South Carolina to take.
A graduate school professor told me recently that when it comes to your vocation, you have two things - your skills, and your reputation, and you must maintain both. Your skills are all on you. The tricky part is your reputation, because others can try and mess with that one. It is within your rights to preserve your reputation. This is your life. You have a right to preserve those things. You are worthy of self-respect. And I must have agreed with her.
Can I tell you something? I just wanted to love those kids. Tell those sweet and fragile teenage girls they have a chance at something more than pregnancy at 15 years old and being kicked out of school. That there's this Jesus who not only loves them, but created them and knit them together so beautifully. What more could I want to do, you know? I just want them to know there's something else out there for them. That there is a place for them in this world. And that God will hold them the whole way. That God is rooting for them. He's in their corner. I just wanted them to know that. And I guess I want you to know that too or I wouldn't be typing this right now.
There's a place for you. There's a place for all of us. God is in your corner. Take a break from all of this theological "God is in God's corner" stuff. God loves and embraces you just as you are right now, in this moment, as you read these words. Do you know that? Regardless of whether you're confused or torn doing what you thought you'd be doing three years after graduating college. God can awaken new passions in you. He blesses us with desires and talents beyond what we were capable of when we were eighteen years old. And we should embrace those, you know? Because our God is big, and He made this world awfully big, and He uses a lot of people to do a lot of different things.
If we went to a restaurant where there were no lights, it'd be incredibly difficult to see the menu and order or eat anything. If it were dark in a store, you wouldn't be able to tell if the things you picked out were the things in your list. I guess what I'm saying is as God's children, we don't want to leave any corner of this place unlit. Whether it's retail stores or restaurants or golf courses or power plants. Do you know how dangerous it is when places are left in pure darkness? God is here, and He put you here to be a light.
A light unto the world.
Monday, December 31, 2012
dragons and gravel roads.
Resolutions are like promises you know you'll never keep. I don't make resolutions. I don't make promises much anymore either.
Instead, this is my prayer for this year. Sanctification. Roll that word around your tongue for a minute.
I feel like it always comes for me anyway. This sanctification. This tear off of who I think I should be and who I am in Him. Constantly beckoning with the murmur similar to the kind the snow makes when it's falling. One that sings of pummeling thousands of miles to the ground, but somehow finds it's place gently among the glittering unity.
This time, I'm boldly approaching His throne, asking Him to tell me what He thinks of me. Asking for Him to define me. To be what defines me. Begging Him to violently tear away all the ugly of me that so fully reflects my love for this world. To love me despite me. He already does that.
I pray you will ask Him to do the same for you. Maybe we'll meet up along this gravel road and share our scars. Because we will certainly fall. We will most certainly do more than scrape our knees. Surely, we'll bloody our noses. Maybe even the noses of our brothers. But I hope to meet you along that beautiful gravel road where we will breathe in stories and breath out the hope that stems from the aroma of grace and mercy and justice that will surely surround us.
Happy New Year, friends. His mercies are new each morning - not just tomorrow.
Instead, this is my prayer for this year. Sanctification. Roll that word around your tongue for a minute.
I feel like it always comes for me anyway. This sanctification. This tear off of who I think I should be and who I am in Him. Constantly beckoning with the murmur similar to the kind the snow makes when it's falling. One that sings of pummeling thousands of miles to the ground, but somehow finds it's place gently among the glittering unity.
This time, I'm boldly approaching His throne, asking Him to tell me what He thinks of me. Asking for Him to define me. To be what defines me. Begging Him to violently tear away all the ugly of me that so fully reflects my love for this world. To love me despite me. He already does that.
I pray you will ask Him to do the same for you. Maybe we'll meet up along this gravel road and share our scars. Because we will certainly fall. We will most certainly do more than scrape our knees. Surely, we'll bloody our noses. Maybe even the noses of our brothers. But I hope to meet you along that beautiful gravel road where we will breathe in stories and breath out the hope that stems from the aroma of grace and mercy and justice that will surely surround us.
Happy New Year, friends. His mercies are new each morning - not just tomorrow.
“The water was as clear as anything and I thought if I could get in there and bathe it would ease the pain in my leg. but the lion told me I must undress first. Mind you, I don’t know if he said any words out loud or not.
I was just going to say that I couldn’t undress because I hadn’t any clothes on when I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. Oh, of course, thought I, that’s what the lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and , instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I just stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bathe.
But just as I was going to put my feet into the water I looked down and saw that they were all hard and rough and wrinkled and scaly just as they had been before. Oh, that’s all right, said I, it only means I had another smaller suit on underneath the first one, and I’ll have to get out of it too. So I scratched and tore again and this underskin peeled off beautifully and out I stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well for my bathe.
Well, exactly the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? For I was longing to bathe my leg. So I scratched away for the third time and got off a third skin, just like the two others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good.
Then the lion said – but I don’t know if it spoke – ‘You will have to let me undress you.’ I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.
The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know – if you’ve ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.
Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off – just as I thought I’d done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt – and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I was smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me – I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on – and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again.”
-C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Those prophets may have been onto something.
I want to see redemption win.
Sometimes we catch tiny glimpses of it in this life. But that's not enough. I want to see redemption claim ownership over this place. It's difficult to imagine this is even possible in the wake of such deep depravity surfacing and stealing innocent blood.
Amidst the mess that is yesterday, know this beyond a shadow of a doubt:
Jesus loves the little children.
Their treasures are in heaven. Their parents' treasures are most certainly in heaven. We need to bear this burden together in prayer. I'm not even sure what you should pray for, but it's what the prophets did in the wake of mass murder and wiping out of entire nations. Perhaps we should start there, too.
Somehow, we have to find confidence that God is still on His throne. My sweet friend Ryne put it so well in saying, "I don't think we should try to make sense of this because there isn't any." And he's right. There is no way to rationalize or reconcile evil within God's holiness. Things get confusing. But God doesn't ask you to have blind faith. You can ask Him about these things. Remember the prophets. Remember their doubt and questions and confidence and faithfulness. Make a home there. You'll be in good company.
Sometimes we catch tiny glimpses of it in this life. But that's not enough. I want to see redemption claim ownership over this place. It's difficult to imagine this is even possible in the wake of such deep depravity surfacing and stealing innocent blood.
Amidst the mess that is yesterday, know this beyond a shadow of a doubt:
Jesus loves the little children.
Their treasures are in heaven. Their parents' treasures are most certainly in heaven. We need to bear this burden together in prayer. I'm not even sure what you should pray for, but it's what the prophets did in the wake of mass murder and wiping out of entire nations. Perhaps we should start there, too.
Somehow, we have to find confidence that God is still on His throne. My sweet friend Ryne put it so well in saying, "I don't think we should try to make sense of this because there isn't any." And he's right. There is no way to rationalize or reconcile evil within God's holiness. Things get confusing. But God doesn't ask you to have blind faith. You can ask Him about these things. Remember the prophets. Remember their doubt and questions and confidence and faithfulness. Make a home there. You'll be in good company.
Photo credit: Rachel Vaudrieul
"I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." Psalm 27:13
Thursday, December 13, 2012
How did I lose a forest?
I hate graduate school for all that it's not and am trying to love it for what it barely is.
I want to rip a piece of academia off this program each day like a piece of pita bread with my teeth but I'm struggling to accept this will never happen. My field liaison told me this week he thinks a really bright high school student could get through the program at this school. I took a deep breath after he said that. A really deep one. The kind where you suck the air deep into your lungs and breathe it out through your teeth.
I'm frustrated now.
"Like I said, I'm not getting anything out of this, Dr. Ferrante. I don't know how half the students got into this program."
He told me if I want academic challenge I should have done something else.
Well, jeez. That was honest.
"Like seminary?"
"You already argued with people for four years over God," he says to me. "And what did you come up with Lindsay? It took you four years to figure out that God is good?"
Touche, old man.
"If you're saying I'm never going to be academically challenged in this program, then what do you suggest?"
He smiled his crooked 70-something year old man smile. I know he's been to seminary. I know he's studied theology. You can always tell by the way people talk about simple things. Like they know some sort of secret.
"You have to decide whether or not this is going to do anything for you. Once you make a decision, you're life will be easier. This internship you don't like will get easier. Going through classes will get easier. It will all get easier for you."
He certainly didn't mean easier academically. He already said a high school student could do this work, which is slightly embarrassing. Is he suggesting there is more to a Masters degree than academic challenge? Like this program be ultimately helpful in other ways?
Wait, are we even still talking about school?
Apparently there's some bigger picture I'm missing here. There's always a bigger picture. How did I lose the forest? I was told this could happen. I just see the trees all around me. It seems so meaningless. Somewhere along the way, I missed something. I ended up in the midst of it all and it's just greenery. Nothing makes sense. I forgot something on my way.
Surely, but I'm not sure what.
I question a lot of things. Most things, in fact. Am I doing what I should be? Am I wasting time? I wonder how much time I even have. Am I making good use of it? Am I doing anything redeeming? Are You still redeeming me?
Slow down, Quenton.
Touche, old man.
"If you're saying I'm never going to be academically challenged in this program, then what do you suggest?"
He smiled his crooked 70-something year old man smile. I know he's been to seminary. I know he's studied theology. You can always tell by the way people talk about simple things. Like they know some sort of secret.
"You have to decide whether or not this is going to do anything for you. Once you make a decision, you're life will be easier. This internship you don't like will get easier. Going through classes will get easier. It will all get easier for you."
He certainly didn't mean easier academically. He already said a high school student could do this work, which is slightly embarrassing. Is he suggesting there is more to a Masters degree than academic challenge? Like this program be ultimately helpful in other ways?
Wait, are we even still talking about school?
Apparently there's some bigger picture I'm missing here. There's always a bigger picture. How did I lose the forest? I was told this could happen. I just see the trees all around me. It seems so meaningless. Somewhere along the way, I missed something. I ended up in the midst of it all and it's just greenery. Nothing makes sense. I forgot something on my way.
Surely, but I'm not sure what.
I question a lot of things. Most things, in fact. Am I doing what I should be? Am I wasting time? I wonder how much time I even have. Am I making good use of it? Am I doing anything redeeming? Are You still redeeming me?
Slow down, Quenton.
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