Oh, where to begin.... Life....
I have meant to blog a little bit more.... but I haven't had time. But the term is over now. I survived it..... but not without a few scrapes and bruises to my pride, the mask of identity I have made for myself, and a challenge to everything I thought.
I do not have time to recall all of the things that happened over the term. Nor would many people be interested in reading that. I instead want to share with you some scraps of my life, some snapshots of the moments that reminded me of the faithfulness of God.
Let me preface these few memories by saying that God is AMAZING! Gracious and merciful is the LORD!!
I believe that God is always revealing Himself to those who follow Him. I believe that He wants us to draw near, and when we do, amazingly, He draws near to us. That we are afforded such a relationship with the Almighty God of the universe by the blood of the Lamb who was slain baffles me and breaks me. But I want to know this God more deeply.
So, I decided to look for Him.
I have started keeping a journal of the ways I see God moving. It is paintings and poems and pictures and words all proclaiming the glory and majesty of God as it is revealed in my life. I guess I thought that the best way to train myself to see was to start looking.... It has reminded me of the time my dear friend Emma and I decided we wanted to be more poetic, eloquent people and our decided way of reaching that goal was to write a poem everyday for a year. I failed miserably at that..... But my journal I am committed to keeping. I am determined that, although it is a joy now, when it becomes a chore I will still use it as an avenue for seeking the face of God, or looking for His hand in my life.
Perhaps I will scan some pages from it sometime.
At any rate, I will share some moments from my life in which God has been faithful, and I'm sure you'll get to hear the other thousands of ways He was working in me this fall once we get to heaven.
It was a rough fall. I am living missionally with three girls who are not Christians.
They are all friends of mine. But I never anticipated that it would be so hard.... or so easy.
I miss living in my parents' home when I am in school. There is no one in my apartment who can share in the rapture of God's creation during the changing of the leaves or the first frost... yet. And it is hard.
But God has not deserted me. Every time I feel completely overwhelmed, and am frustrated and regret living with these girls, God moves.
During the first week of the term, I had one-on-one talks with each of my roommates about who Jesus is... and THEY brought it up. Kids, that was God. I was scared, and nervous and had no idea where to start. So God worked it out for me.
Whenever I came close, as it is tempting to do, to stop taking every single opportunity to mention Jesus's way, God would lead my roommates to ask me. Over and over.
okay, so, I am not going to go into specifics right now.. but just to summarize:
I had long, long talks, I had time to discuss my prayer life, I discussed the importance of the Scriptures, when my own Bible was ruined by an accident when I was not home. I have had every opportunity to love these girls selflessly in the name of Christ.
And I have often failed. But God has always blessed me by giving me a new beginning as His representative. I have explained my failings, and God's love for me to these girls. I have told them that although I have and will failed them there is Someone who will not. I have apologized and explained how I am not a good representative of my God.
I have shared in their sorrows and looked them in the eyes and with the conviction of the Spirit, with shaking hands and a steady voice told them the ONLY way they will be satisfied or fulfilled and these heartaches healed is in Jesus. I have prayed for and with them.
And I am tired. And when I have been exhausted I have ignored the call to love them, and have avoided telling them they are treasures. I have been annoyed and angry at them. I have been unfaithful to God. But I am His.
"The saying is trustworthy, for:
if we have died with Him, we will also live with Him;
if we endure, we will also reign with Him;
if we deny Him, He also will deny us;
if we are faithless, He will remain faithful -
- for He cannot deny Himself."
II Timothy 2:11-13
I thank the Lord for my life, this testament to His faithfulness.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Advent thoughts
This is an emailed devotion that I get every weekday. I think it's amazing so I thought I'd share it:
" Home and Homesick
In his poem Journey of the Magi, T.S. Eliot imagines the reminiscent thoughts of one of the Magi who journeyed from afar to witness the birth of Christ. Using the voice of a pagan king, Elliot portrays the weight in the soul of one who has truly confronted Christ, the king. The poem powerfully concludes:
"Birth or Death? There was a birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt I had seen birth and death.
But had thought they were different, this Birth was
hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our palaces, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
with an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death."
Coming in contact with the Christ, proclaims Eliot, setting one's eyes on the child who was born to die is in a very real sense like dying ourselves. Though the poem seems to strike a somber note, it is the very note echoed triumphantly throughout New Testament Scripture. The apostle Paul readily utilized the words and imagery of death to describe life in Christ. "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." Jesus uttered similarly, "Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."(1)
In the season of Advent, Christians profess to be a people watching and waiting, remembering and anticipating with those who first watched God step into the world through the mean estate of a dirty stable. We remember those who first set their eyes on the child who was born to die, becoming, in a sense, as Christ was on that first night, homeless and out of place. We remember, too, that we ourselves are far from home, longing for a kingdom we know in part. For having embraced the person of Christ, the Christian proclaims the reality of his kingdom and find herself as Eliot describes, "no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, with an alien people clutching their gods." The message of Advent awakens this sense of homelessness, stirs a longing for home, and reminds a dark world that we are waiting for the return of the king.
In one of the most comforting conversations between Jesus and the disciples, Jesus gives a description of this home and the certainty of an invitation inside. "In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going" (John 14:2-4). Compounding this hope, his words are followed by one of his most quoted promises. As Thomas replied, "But Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" Jesus answered: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life."
Christ is the herald of our homelessness and the harbinger of our home, even as he proclaims this very kingdom among us and himself as the way inside. As G.K. Chesterton once penned,
"For men are homesick in their homes,
and strangers under the sun...
but our homes are under miraculous skies
where the Yule tale was begun."
The story of Christ's birth is a certain message of hope and home. He who took on the fullness of humanity became homeless that we might come home. He proclaims a kingdom among us and continues to prepare us a place within it. Let every heart prepare him room.
Jill Carattini is managing editor of A Slice of Infinity at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia. "
" Home and Homesick
In his poem Journey of the Magi, T.S. Eliot imagines the reminiscent thoughts of one of the Magi who journeyed from afar to witness the birth of Christ. Using the voice of a pagan king, Elliot portrays the weight in the soul of one who has truly confronted Christ, the king. The poem powerfully concludes:
"Birth or Death? There was a birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt I had seen birth and death.
But had thought they were different, this Birth was
hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our palaces, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
with an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death."
Coming in contact with the Christ, proclaims Eliot, setting one's eyes on the child who was born to die is in a very real sense like dying ourselves. Though the poem seems to strike a somber note, it is the very note echoed triumphantly throughout New Testament Scripture. The apostle Paul readily utilized the words and imagery of death to describe life in Christ. "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." Jesus uttered similarly, "Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."(1)
In the season of Advent, Christians profess to be a people watching and waiting, remembering and anticipating with those who first watched God step into the world through the mean estate of a dirty stable. We remember those who first set their eyes on the child who was born to die, becoming, in a sense, as Christ was on that first night, homeless and out of place. We remember, too, that we ourselves are far from home, longing for a kingdom we know in part. For having embraced the person of Christ, the Christian proclaims the reality of his kingdom and find herself as Eliot describes, "no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, with an alien people clutching their gods." The message of Advent awakens this sense of homelessness, stirs a longing for home, and reminds a dark world that we are waiting for the return of the king.
In one of the most comforting conversations between Jesus and the disciples, Jesus gives a description of this home and the certainty of an invitation inside. "In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going" (John 14:2-4). Compounding this hope, his words are followed by one of his most quoted promises. As Thomas replied, "But Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" Jesus answered: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life."
Christ is the herald of our homelessness and the harbinger of our home, even as he proclaims this very kingdom among us and himself as the way inside. As G.K. Chesterton once penned,
"For men are homesick in their homes,
and strangers under the sun...
but our homes are under miraculous skies
where the Yule tale was begun."
The story of Christ's birth is a certain message of hope and home. He who took on the fullness of humanity became homeless that we might come home. He proclaims a kingdom among us and continues to prepare us a place within it. Let every heart prepare him room.
Jill Carattini is managing editor of A Slice of Infinity at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia. "
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
in this world
Hey all,
so I haven't put anything on here in awhile, but that is about to change in a big way. I have so many thoughts I want to share. The first one I do not have time to go into today in detail (I am writing this between a meeting for Chi Alpha Christian group at UO and work, because if anything gets done in my life at UO it is shoved between two things).
But I have to say some stuff. I want to be a person obsessed with the return of Jesus the Christ. Already I feel myself becoming one such person. But, I am discouraged in my growth. I feel like when I share this calling to be heralds in every moment of life for our coming King with other Christians they are not excited. Younger Christians get quiet and older Christians get tired looking. A few of my siblings in the faith say encouraging things, but it none devote themselves to joining me.
Brothers and sisters, why? Is it because you assume my enthusiasm for Jesus' returning is judgement for you? I am going to venture to say that it isn't (some among you might say that that is exactly what this random blog post is, but I honestly think this is more a cry of despair in response to not finding the people of God excited that He is coming back.
There are several reasons I used to fret about His return, too. I admit, I was worried about my unsaved family and friends. Praying for Jesus to return felt often like praying for their hurried damnation. I have also felt like I don't want Jesus to come back until I am "right with Him." I have often been hesitant to pray for the return of our LORD because I was afraid of his response to seeing a servant who was avoiding serving because the Master was away.
There just seemed to be so many things that needed to be put in order before Jesus came to earth (my sin and my friends' faith just being two examples). It seems somehow I forgot that Jesus lived in this mess of a world before, and even now knows what uglinesses we try to hide from Him.
My friends, these things used to worry me (and sometimes in my weakness still do), but let me share when I felt the worries first recede.
I was taking communion at Spring Mountain (how I miss communing with you all!!), and was made aware of my wretched state. As I took communion it became clear to me in some tiny sense how guilty I was of the sins of Gomer. I was overwhelmed by the love of God and broken by the fact that I had betrayed such a lover as Him. And then I realized that I would do it again.
I realized that I would again betray Him. I know myself, and I would, probably before the day was over.
I was crushed. And I realized that I would do this until He came and brought me home. In that moment all I could ever dream of was for Jesus to come. to be fully reconciled to Him, face to face with His glory.
Language fails such moments. But it is occurring to me since then that Jesus' return is the answer to these problems. I do not know how my friends' faithlessness and my failings will be reconciled, but I know they will be. I know Whom I have believed. He will right all wrongs, and I need not worry how, because I know Him.
THIS is why I long for His return, every moment.
allow me to share my joy with you, brothers and sisters: Jesus is coming soon!!!!!!!
Praise the LORD! Maranatha!!!
so I haven't put anything on here in awhile, but that is about to change in a big way. I have so many thoughts I want to share. The first one I do not have time to go into today in detail (I am writing this between a meeting for Chi Alpha Christian group at UO and work, because if anything gets done in my life at UO it is shoved between two things).
But I have to say some stuff. I want to be a person obsessed with the return of Jesus the Christ. Already I feel myself becoming one such person. But, I am discouraged in my growth. I feel like when I share this calling to be heralds in every moment of life for our coming King with other Christians they are not excited. Younger Christians get quiet and older Christians get tired looking. A few of my siblings in the faith say encouraging things, but it none devote themselves to joining me.
Brothers and sisters, why? Is it because you assume my enthusiasm for Jesus' returning is judgement for you? I am going to venture to say that it isn't (some among you might say that that is exactly what this random blog post is, but I honestly think this is more a cry of despair in response to not finding the people of God excited that He is coming back.
There are several reasons I used to fret about His return, too. I admit, I was worried about my unsaved family and friends. Praying for Jesus to return felt often like praying for their hurried damnation. I have also felt like I don't want Jesus to come back until I am "right with Him." I have often been hesitant to pray for the return of our LORD because I was afraid of his response to seeing a servant who was avoiding serving because the Master was away.
There just seemed to be so many things that needed to be put in order before Jesus came to earth (my sin and my friends' faith just being two examples). It seems somehow I forgot that Jesus lived in this mess of a world before, and even now knows what uglinesses we try to hide from Him.
My friends, these things used to worry me (and sometimes in my weakness still do), but let me share when I felt the worries first recede.
I was taking communion at Spring Mountain (how I miss communing with you all!!), and was made aware of my wretched state. As I took communion it became clear to me in some tiny sense how guilty I was of the sins of Gomer. I was overwhelmed by the love of God and broken by the fact that I had betrayed such a lover as Him. And then I realized that I would do it again.
I realized that I would again betray Him. I know myself, and I would, probably before the day was over.
I was crushed. And I realized that I would do this until He came and brought me home. In that moment all I could ever dream of was for Jesus to come. to be fully reconciled to Him, face to face with His glory.
Language fails such moments. But it is occurring to me since then that Jesus' return is the answer to these problems. I do not know how my friends' faithlessness and my failings will be reconciled, but I know they will be. I know Whom I have believed. He will right all wrongs, and I need not worry how, because I know Him.
THIS is why I long for His return, every moment.
allow me to share my joy with you, brothers and sisters: Jesus is coming soon!!!!!!!
Praise the LORD! Maranatha!!!
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Entitlement and Servitude (some old ramblings)
Entitlement vs. Servitude
As a servant of God what am I entitled to?
As a kid born and raised in (and never having left) America, I can honestly say I struggle with entitlement. There are things which I figure are my due. I deserve to be treated kindly and with respect. I deserve to be thanked when I help someone. I am entitled to be paid for working, to be treated well. I am entitled to my convenience. These are the things America has told me. And when the things I am entitled to are infringed upon I have every right to start a big fuss over it, because I am being denied my rights. I am allowed to react in defense to these things. I am supposed to. Or am I?
What does it REALLY mean to be a SERVANT of God? What rights does a servant get to keep? What rights do I have to give up in order to be a servant of my God and his creatures?
The pursuit of happiness?
Liberty?
Life?
Wealth?
Success?
Moral consideration?
Am I allowed to demand being treated well?
Society teaches that life should be fair. Legal systems are in place to try to ensure a just world. People are to be valued by other people, because that is good to do and we all like feeling valued. When people treat you in a way that does not recognize your inherent value, you should demand that they do.
Right?
Or is the proper response to suffer in silence? Not to correct their abuse?
And why is it easier to play the silent-sufferer role amongst non-believers? I can be a martyr, but not a slave.
Yet James identifies himself as a Bondservant of Christ when writing his epistle to his brothers and sisters (James 1:1,-2).
I used to think context kind of excused it, and there may be something to that, after all in my own home if a bug crawls onto my plate and into my dinner I probably won’t touch my food, or at least I make rather a fuss about it; however, if I am camping, I just flick it off and continue my meal. I feel like most people just aren’t as bothered by bugs and dirt while they are camping as they are while at home.
Analogously, it is harder to get along with my siblings than with anyone in the world (or it used to be). It is harder to serve and be generous in my house than when I “go into the world.” I always thought of it as a matter of context. James seems to think otherwise.
Why would He, or I, have to identify myself as a servant to my family???? Even if what he means is the church, this is difficult for me. When I come home from a day of serving people I am supposed to come to my siblings (and the rest of my family) and say “I am the bondservant of Christ,” so I can continue serving? Home is supposed to be a place of refuge and rest.
…. Unless we are not home yet….
Hmm…..
As a servant of God what am I entitled to?
As a kid born and raised in (and never having left) America, I can honestly say I struggle with entitlement. There are things which I figure are my due. I deserve to be treated kindly and with respect. I deserve to be thanked when I help someone. I am entitled to be paid for working, to be treated well. I am entitled to my convenience. These are the things America has told me. And when the things I am entitled to are infringed upon I have every right to start a big fuss over it, because I am being denied my rights. I am allowed to react in defense to these things. I am supposed to. Or am I?
What does it REALLY mean to be a SERVANT of God? What rights does a servant get to keep? What rights do I have to give up in order to be a servant of my God and his creatures?
The pursuit of happiness?
Liberty?
Life?
Wealth?
Success?
Moral consideration?
Am I allowed to demand being treated well?
Society teaches that life should be fair. Legal systems are in place to try to ensure a just world. People are to be valued by other people, because that is good to do and we all like feeling valued. When people treat you in a way that does not recognize your inherent value, you should demand that they do.
Right?
Or is the proper response to suffer in silence? Not to correct their abuse?
And why is it easier to play the silent-sufferer role amongst non-believers? I can be a martyr, but not a slave.
Yet James identifies himself as a Bondservant of Christ when writing his epistle to his brothers and sisters (James 1:1,-2).
I used to think context kind of excused it, and there may be something to that, after all in my own home if a bug crawls onto my plate and into my dinner I probably won’t touch my food, or at least I make rather a fuss about it; however, if I am camping, I just flick it off and continue my meal. I feel like most people just aren’t as bothered by bugs and dirt while they are camping as they are while at home.
Analogously, it is harder to get along with my siblings than with anyone in the world (or it used to be). It is harder to serve and be generous in my house than when I “go into the world.” I always thought of it as a matter of context. James seems to think otherwise.
Why would He, or I, have to identify myself as a servant to my family???? Even if what he means is the church, this is difficult for me. When I come home from a day of serving people I am supposed to come to my siblings (and the rest of my family) and say “I am the bondservant of Christ,” so I can continue serving? Home is supposed to be a place of refuge and rest.
…. Unless we are not home yet….
Hmm…..
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
the ever-struggle - a poem
Just to offer context for this poem: I love life at the UO. It has been socially, educationally and spiritually edifying to be here, and I will continue to love it here, I am sure. But, these last few weeks I have felt drowned in trying to find the balance between studying, working and de-stressing.. And I have found that what seems to be suffering the most is my relationship with Jesus. It is that closest relationship that the stresses of my life strain... and this bothers me. It manifests itself in big ways, in how I relate to the world, and in more subtle ways, like thinking about Merleau-Ponty's "Cogito" while reading my Bible at meal times and between classes and having no idea what I've read. When I realized how long its been since I dedicated the whole of my heart and mind to Jesus for a specific moment, this is what came out.
The ever struggle: living center focused in and edge focused world.
I just want to abandon myself to the will of the Lord. I want to make my Maker my Master so that He can master the decisions I make. I am sick of sin creeping in…again. And the feeling of it leaves me empty and sick.
How disgusted must He be- The Spirit of the living God who lives in me-? I am living like a stranger, when I am the daughter of the King.
How easy I think it would be, to live to You and die to me if I was not stuck here, all wrapped in new clothes, drowning in headphones. I want to be let go, by the grip of the world, by the overflow.
How can I live with so much opportunity and squander all my gifts? How can I fail in apathy? And tell me how to start again, in this world. I’m drowning in this overflow.
Jesus, I can’t see you beyond the books and coffees, I can’t see you beyond the work and receipts!!! But sometimes I think that beyond the laughter filling up my room, you are weeping for me.
The ever struggle: living center focused in and edge focused world.
I just want to abandon myself to the will of the Lord. I want to make my Maker my Master so that He can master the decisions I make. I am sick of sin creeping in…again. And the feeling of it leaves me empty and sick.
How disgusted must He be- The Spirit of the living God who lives in me-? I am living like a stranger, when I am the daughter of the King.
How easy I think it would be, to live to You and die to me if I was not stuck here, all wrapped in new clothes, drowning in headphones. I want to be let go, by the grip of the world, by the overflow.
How can I live with so much opportunity and squander all my gifts? How can I fail in apathy? And tell me how to start again, in this world. I’m drowning in this overflow.
Jesus, I can’t see you beyond the books and coffees, I can’t see you beyond the work and receipts!!! But sometimes I think that beyond the laughter filling up my room, you are weeping for me.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
God Is Not Impressed
Recently I was utterly blown away. The kind of blown away that breaks and restores your heart. My faith is challenged by the people around me here at UO. I love the LORD. God’s character has been revealed to me in his people. I have worked for the good of Kingdom alongside other Christians. I have fed the homeless, loved the wretched, befriended the difficult, fellowshipped with the body, served the lowly, read the Scriptures. I have worshipped the LORD.
And I was delighted to do it.
Then I went to a Bible study here on campus that I had never been to before. The man who led us in the word was talking about Philippians 3. He said something, as a quick side note, that has stuck with me. He said, “I promise you, the God who made the giant galaxies down to the little butterflies is not impressed by your good works.”
Of course, I know this. I was blessed to be raised in the Body. But it hurt to hear. In fact, it was damaging. I guess before it had never really hit me. I know that my good works are filth. But still… I was really upset by this… after all, I was impressed that I managed to read my Bible every day. I was impressed with a lot of the stuff I had been doing. God knows me, He should be impressed that I accomplished it, right? Or that He accomplished it through me? The truth is I have been really disciplined lately, I have prayed and fasted on behalf of my friends and campus, and the world. I have been working hard to be a living sacrifice to my Lord…..
Reality check: the God who created the giant galaxies and the little butterflies is not impressed with me reading my Bible for three minutes a day a few days in a row.
Last night at The Point, a Bible study I attend weekly, we discussed forgiveness. After the message one of my brothers stood and praised the amazing way the Lord has forgiven us and his response to our successes and failures in following our Lord. He was blown away by the compassion of our King-Father in His celebration of our stumbling steps. “God is like a Father celebrating our first steps, grabbing the camera.”
Suddenly it clicked. God is NOT impressed with attempts to follow Him. He delights in them.
GOD IS SO AMAZING!!!! THANK YOU, LORD!
Here is my attempt at expressing visually what i just tried to express verbally.
the God who created the galaxies and the grass is not impressed by my attempts at goodness
but He celebrates them in delight
And I was delighted to do it.
Then I went to a Bible study here on campus that I had never been to before. The man who led us in the word was talking about Philippians 3. He said something, as a quick side note, that has stuck with me. He said, “I promise you, the God who made the giant galaxies down to the little butterflies is not impressed by your good works.”
Of course, I know this. I was blessed to be raised in the Body. But it hurt to hear. In fact, it was damaging. I guess before it had never really hit me. I know that my good works are filth. But still… I was really upset by this… after all, I was impressed that I managed to read my Bible every day. I was impressed with a lot of the stuff I had been doing. God knows me, He should be impressed that I accomplished it, right? Or that He accomplished it through me? The truth is I have been really disciplined lately, I have prayed and fasted on behalf of my friends and campus, and the world. I have been working hard to be a living sacrifice to my Lord…..
Reality check: the God who created the giant galaxies and the little butterflies is not impressed with me reading my Bible for three minutes a day a few days in a row.
Last night at The Point, a Bible study I attend weekly, we discussed forgiveness. After the message one of my brothers stood and praised the amazing way the Lord has forgiven us and his response to our successes and failures in following our Lord. He was blown away by the compassion of our King-Father in His celebration of our stumbling steps. “God is like a Father celebrating our first steps, grabbing the camera.”
Suddenly it clicked. God is NOT impressed with attempts to follow Him. He delights in them.
GOD IS SO AMAZING!!!! THANK YOU, LORD!
Here is my attempt at expressing visually what i just tried to express verbally.
the God who created the galaxies and the grass is not impressed by my attempts at goodness
but He celebrates them in delight
Sunday, January 30, 2011
More Than Conquerers
Just a thought:
maybe when Paul said we Christians are "more than conquerors" he didn't mean
conquerers and then some.
maybe he meant we are greater than conquerers...
just a thought...
(Romans 8)
maybe when Paul said we Christians are "more than conquerors" he didn't mean
conquerers and then some.
maybe he meant we are greater than conquerers...
just a thought...
(Romans 8)
Monday, January 24, 2011
Glad to Finally Move Out of Your Parents' House?
I am living in Eugene now. I love it here. I moved here for school, and am attending the University of Oregon. God has been so providential, and I ended up in a substance free hall. My roommate is quite possibly the most considerate person I have ever met, and quite frankly, I love being around the people in my dorm. There is a Bible Study that meets in the basement of my building, and I have already been encouraged by the faith of a girl a few rooms down. The food is great, and really close. The campus is beautiful. Even my fish seems to feel more alive here.
God has really blessed me.
But this strange thing keeps happening. When I talk to people about how much I love it they always say the same thing. They all ask me one question that puzzles me, and every single time I simply don’t know how to respond. Everyone says, “Glad to get out of the house?” or “finally getting some space from the parents?” ….
I don’t suppose this question would puzzle me if it was being asked by people my age. I don’t expect people my age to have with their own parents the type of relationship that I have with mine. But I have gotten this question from adults, more often than not.
I guess that it makes sense that people who know me and know that I lived with my parents a year longer than most of my friends, and just went to community college after graduating high school would guess that I felt some sort of amplified version of what the normal teenage desire to get as far away as possible for at least a year. I understand that even my friends who have good relationships with their parents still feel the need to get out. I just didn’t. And I still don’t.
I don’t need to find out who I am, I know. And as funny as it may seem I found out more clearly who I am and who I want to be in the last year, while living with my parents. I watched my mom, a lot. And I saw in her some of what I aspire to be. She has patience, and gentleness that I can’t even imagine maintaining in the kind of environment that she is in everyday. I have known people who do similar things as my mom does. But there is one difference that stands out the most: she doesn’t complain about them. In situations where other adults in my life have endured slight versions of what my mom does every day I have heard complaining that turns even their most beautiful acts into something repugnant. In this my mom amazes me. Shortly after visiting another woman who I look up to and seeing her pour herself out, and then complain about it I began to really appreciate this in my mom. Not a week later my mom was sitting at dinner and announced that she thought she complained too much and she had everything that she needed. She said that God gave her everything she could ever want, and she complained about it, and felt convicted… I want to be like my mom in that. Even more, though, I admire her perspective. In situations where I would get angry, she sees a reason to love. Talking to my mom is a wondrous, and a humbling thing. Living with her this past year taught me who I want to be. And my dad. His perspective is one that I want, too. My dad sees so much of God in this broken world. He always can seem to find some theological perspective, pulled from the Word of God, that I could never see on own. I know who I want to become, because I know my dad. He studies the heart of God for this world, in its justice, in its peace, in its power. I found myself in a piece of his passion for God’s kingdom. My dad is brilliant. I know he doesn’t think so, but he is. He taught me how to think, how to form thoughts, when I was a baby, a kid, a student (in a formal logic class), and especially in the last year. He taught me how to start to think of things in the context of the kingdom of God. That is what I want to be like. My dad judges his responses to any situation according to his faith. I have never met someone who could instantly see what a right course of action might be and why, in, say, a relational disagreement or a specific problem someone is having. In this last year I saw things in my dad that I want to emulate. He is a faithful man, who serves his God to the best of his understanding. And he is a wise man, who always seeks to understand his God. He is a man who God has used mightily, and will continue to use mightily, and I cannot wait to see what God has been preparing him for these last couple of years (and to all those who think that they missed their chance to be used by God, because they aren’t as free as they were in younger years, get ready. I mean, God is expert at freeing people up from impossible situations so they can serve him. And also, He made His entire nation out of Abraham, but only after Abraham turned 100. I think God likes doing crazy stuff with old people. )! While watching my dad, I learned what I want to be like. In talks while picking up my little sister from school, I discovered what I love, and what I am passionate about.
After that 10 year rant, I guess you might be able to understand why that question (I know it’s been awhile since I talked about it, so let me remind you: “glad to finally get out of the house?”) might confuse me. The truth is, I am not glad to be out of my parents’ house. I love it here in Eugene. I plan to stay for quite some time, and I will enjoy it. But not because it’s away from the watchful eyes of my parents. I understand that it is important that I learn to live without my parents holding me accountable for my actions, or guiding my every day, because I need to learn to get those things from my Lord. But I did not resent that when I had it from them (that’s a lie…. I did at some points, but not in the last year). It was my parents that taught me how to follow, and who to follow, so that I can serve my God now. The fact is, I miss living at home. Not because I miss childhood, or responsibility, but because I miss learning from them, I miss being part of their daily stories in following Christ. I miss watching them as they figure out what exactly it means to be followers of the Messiah. I miss it a lot.
I love life here, I love life there. I am not glad to be out of my parents’ house, but I am glad to be in Eugene. I guess I am kinda glad people have been asking me that a lot lately. If only I could find a way to say all of this in a condensed enough way for a socially acceptable phone conversation………….
God has really blessed me.
But this strange thing keeps happening. When I talk to people about how much I love it they always say the same thing. They all ask me one question that puzzles me, and every single time I simply don’t know how to respond. Everyone says, “Glad to get out of the house?” or “finally getting some space from the parents?” ….
I don’t suppose this question would puzzle me if it was being asked by people my age. I don’t expect people my age to have with their own parents the type of relationship that I have with mine. But I have gotten this question from adults, more often than not.
I guess that it makes sense that people who know me and know that I lived with my parents a year longer than most of my friends, and just went to community college after graduating high school would guess that I felt some sort of amplified version of what the normal teenage desire to get as far away as possible for at least a year. I understand that even my friends who have good relationships with their parents still feel the need to get out. I just didn’t. And I still don’t.
I don’t need to find out who I am, I know. And as funny as it may seem I found out more clearly who I am and who I want to be in the last year, while living with my parents. I watched my mom, a lot. And I saw in her some of what I aspire to be. She has patience, and gentleness that I can’t even imagine maintaining in the kind of environment that she is in everyday. I have known people who do similar things as my mom does. But there is one difference that stands out the most: she doesn’t complain about them. In situations where other adults in my life have endured slight versions of what my mom does every day I have heard complaining that turns even their most beautiful acts into something repugnant. In this my mom amazes me. Shortly after visiting another woman who I look up to and seeing her pour herself out, and then complain about it I began to really appreciate this in my mom. Not a week later my mom was sitting at dinner and announced that she thought she complained too much and she had everything that she needed. She said that God gave her everything she could ever want, and she complained about it, and felt convicted… I want to be like my mom in that. Even more, though, I admire her perspective. In situations where I would get angry, she sees a reason to love. Talking to my mom is a wondrous, and a humbling thing. Living with her this past year taught me who I want to be. And my dad. His perspective is one that I want, too. My dad sees so much of God in this broken world. He always can seem to find some theological perspective, pulled from the Word of God, that I could never see on own. I know who I want to become, because I know my dad. He studies the heart of God for this world, in its justice, in its peace, in its power. I found myself in a piece of his passion for God’s kingdom. My dad is brilliant. I know he doesn’t think so, but he is. He taught me how to think, how to form thoughts, when I was a baby, a kid, a student (in a formal logic class), and especially in the last year. He taught me how to start to think of things in the context of the kingdom of God. That is what I want to be like. My dad judges his responses to any situation according to his faith. I have never met someone who could instantly see what a right course of action might be and why, in, say, a relational disagreement or a specific problem someone is having. In this last year I saw things in my dad that I want to emulate. He is a faithful man, who serves his God to the best of his understanding. And he is a wise man, who always seeks to understand his God. He is a man who God has used mightily, and will continue to use mightily, and I cannot wait to see what God has been preparing him for these last couple of years (and to all those who think that they missed their chance to be used by God, because they aren’t as free as they were in younger years, get ready. I mean, God is expert at freeing people up from impossible situations so they can serve him. And also, He made His entire nation out of Abraham, but only after Abraham turned 100. I think God likes doing crazy stuff with old people. )! While watching my dad, I learned what I want to be like. In talks while picking up my little sister from school, I discovered what I love, and what I am passionate about.
After that 10 year rant, I guess you might be able to understand why that question (I know it’s been awhile since I talked about it, so let me remind you: “glad to finally get out of the house?”) might confuse me. The truth is, I am not glad to be out of my parents’ house. I love it here in Eugene. I plan to stay for quite some time, and I will enjoy it. But not because it’s away from the watchful eyes of my parents. I understand that it is important that I learn to live without my parents holding me accountable for my actions, or guiding my every day, because I need to learn to get those things from my Lord. But I did not resent that when I had it from them (that’s a lie…. I did at some points, but not in the last year). It was my parents that taught me how to follow, and who to follow, so that I can serve my God now. The fact is, I miss living at home. Not because I miss childhood, or responsibility, but because I miss learning from them, I miss being part of their daily stories in following Christ. I miss watching them as they figure out what exactly it means to be followers of the Messiah. I miss it a lot.
I love life here, I love life there. I am not glad to be out of my parents’ house, but I am glad to be in Eugene. I guess I am kinda glad people have been asking me that a lot lately. If only I could find a way to say all of this in a condensed enough way for a socially acceptable phone conversation………….
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