I've always liked to swim. I don't do it very often now, but, when I was younger, I would spend hours swimming back and forth in our pool. I've never been scared of the water and would jump right into the deep end, no problem.
Maybe that sounds brave and fearless.
Could be. But, I can tell you that generally there's a pretty thin line between bravery and foolishness. And I've done plenty of things that teetered rather precariously on that line. And yet, even though I know that I have this tendency towards foolishness masked as bravery, that doesn't much stop me from continuing to jump in the deep end, be it the deep end of the pool or a deep end of a more metaphorical sort.
I guess I keep doing such things because, to be honest, the fool in me is really too naive to understand the danger I might get myself into. The fool in me doesn't see impending doom. The fool in my sees only the excitement or the good that will come out of taking the risk, if the fool in me can even understand that it's a risk being taken.
I was thinking about this today, as I fumbled around in a bit of a funk, sad about everything. I won't go into detail about what all I was sad about because there were a great many things, and each of them are so large they'd necessitate a separate post, if not a collection of books.
But, anyways, I was in a funk. And I was in a funk precisely because I had jumped in the deep end.
You see, I'm usually a pretty distant person, at least emotionally speaking. I'm incredibly funny. I mean, I'm not even bragging here, people. I'm hilarious. I know this because I totally crack myself up most of the time. I say some of the funniest things to me, you wouldn't even believe. Again, that's a whole different post.
But, suffice it to say, I can communicate well with people because I'm funny. But that's often pretty much it. I mean, I'm not going to cry on your shoulder and tell you my feelings. And, for the love of all that is good in this world, I hope that you don't try to put your head on my shoulder and cry. I'm telling you, seriously, I'm not sure what I would do. I would probably implode or have a panic attack or just plain pass out. Barring those things, I would at least tense up and have no idea what to say to you. I would have no words to communicate.
Yes, I am that person. I'm not saying I like it. In fact, I really don't. And that's how I ended up jumping in the deep end.
It started off simply enough. I decided that, if I was to truly open up to people and care about people, I would need some help. And, I decided I'd get that help by praying about it. Yep. It sounded like a good idea. I'd pray that I could really and truly love people. That I would see people as God sees people. And that (and here's where I really got myself in trouble) I'd love people as Jesus loves them.
Sounds great, right? Jesus is loving. God is love. Jesus loves me. We sing songs about this stuff. They're good songs. Happy songs.
So, I decided to pray that I'd love people as Jesus does. Now, I wasn't great at this prayer. I kept it up for a while, and then I dropped it for a while. Here recently, I'd really started it up again. And that's how I ended up in the funk, treading water in the deep end. I'm a good swimmer, but I wasn't quite prepared for what I'd jumped into.
You see, when I thought about loving people as Jesus loves them, I'd simply thought about feeling warmly toward people. Caring about them in a way that's a little more personal than the sort of abstract way that I'd always cared about people before. To love people like Jesus would simply mean to care about them. To see the good in them, to seek to see that good even when I didn't really like them. That's what I figured loving people like Jesus would be like.
But, loving people like Jesus loves them means hurting for them. How I didn't factor that in, I'm not sure. And yet, I didn't. I didn't think that loving people as Jesus loves them would mean that I would see their hurts and hurt for them. I didn't think it would mean that I'd think about people I don't even know and worry for them, care for them. But that's what happens.
The other day, I was in the campus bookstore, and I bought a book called Redeemed. So far, I'm kind of in love with it because I'm kind of in love with reading stories of faith and how people come to faith. The author, Heather King, writes about falling in love with Christ and coming to understand His love for all of us.
"I couldn't get my mind around a God who ruled by such apparent powerlessness. If Christ is God made man, it came to me one day, for instance, then God lets us kill him. He didn't, and doesn't, so much "die for our sins" as love us so much, so fiercely guard our free will, that he allows himself to be in a relationship with us in which he is capable of being hurt; in which he allows himself to be totally, totally vulnerable. He could have made himself impervious to hurt, but he didn't. And when we hurt him--because it did hurt, almost beyond comprehension, to be betrayed by his friends, to have his life's work go for seemingly nothing, to be scourged, mocked, scorned, to be crowned with thorns and have spikes driven through his palms, the soft part of his feet, to basically suffocate to death, publicly, with people spitting at him and jeering, which continues to happen, throughout the world, every day, as we kill the Christ in ourselves and others, revile him, commit barbarous acts in his name--he doesn't hold a grudge, doesn't have a word of reproach. He says, Oh come back, you're back? Oh that makes me so happy, come over here by me and I'll tell you what I've learned, I'll show you how to be awake, alive, reconciled..."
It's so beautiful, isn't it? To love like that. And so, though I do feel the pain of that kind of love, I also feel the joy that comes from knowing what it is to love like that, if only to know some small part of that kind of love. And though it feels at times like I won't see the surface of the deep end again, I'd rather foolishly keep jumping in. I'd rather let the fool in me jump into loving too deeply than to play it safe by the water's edge.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
School Days
The first two days of school are already over, and I kind of miss them already. A woman who works in our office was teasing, saying to another instructor that I like my students so much just because I'm in love with the first day of school.
And, you know what?
She's at least partly right on that one. I really am in love with the first day of school. I still buy back-to-school supplies. And some of them are hot pink. Okay, pretty much all of them are hot pink. And maybe one or two things are Hello Kitty, but I don't parade those around the students or anything.
The really great thing is that I've gotten to be part of the first day of school every year since I started kindergarten, and I've been part of the first day of school at a huge university every year since my first day as a college freshman.
And I feel really lucky to be there. I love to see the excitement on the faces of students who are just starting their college careers. I love the huge crush of people around certain parts of campus. I even love the poster sales that happen at the beginning of every school year.
I guess I just love the newness of it all. But I think that I'm mainly in love with the hopefulness of it, that all things are new on the first day of school, that the year holds so much possibility. I think that's why I love teaching at a university. I get to be a part of all of that each year and, in some small way, I get to be a part of my students' lives, to be there as they begin this part of their lives.
Well, those are my thoughts on the first day of school. I love it. And, now I'd better go to sleep, because tomorrow begins the third day of school. Now begins the time when I actually have to teach them things! Pray for me! ;)
And, you know what?
She's at least partly right on that one. I really am in love with the first day of school. I still buy back-to-school supplies. And some of them are hot pink. Okay, pretty much all of them are hot pink. And maybe one or two things are Hello Kitty, but I don't parade those around the students or anything.
The really great thing is that I've gotten to be part of the first day of school every year since I started kindergarten, and I've been part of the first day of school at a huge university every year since my first day as a college freshman.
And I feel really lucky to be there. I love to see the excitement on the faces of students who are just starting their college careers. I love the huge crush of people around certain parts of campus. I even love the poster sales that happen at the beginning of every school year.
I guess I just love the newness of it all. But I think that I'm mainly in love with the hopefulness of it, that all things are new on the first day of school, that the year holds so much possibility. I think that's why I love teaching at a university. I get to be a part of all of that each year and, in some small way, I get to be a part of my students' lives, to be there as they begin this part of their lives.
Well, those are my thoughts on the first day of school. I love it. And, now I'd better go to sleep, because tomorrow begins the third day of school. Now begins the time when I actually have to teach them things! Pray for me! ;)
Friday, August 15, 2008
Milkshakes and Tears
It started with a breakdown. My time at the orphanage in El Salvador, that is.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and, for reasons I cannot remember, there weren't many people around the orphanage. The members of the group we'd been with for the first week had left a few hours before, and we'd had a sad goodbye to them at the airport. The kids must have been doing something, and Susan and Maegen, my two roommates and fellow English speakers, must have been off with the kids.
Except one of the kids was there, and so was I. I was with Saul, a thirteen year old boy who has Muscular Dystrophy. He had also recently broken his leg in a fall from his wheelchair. In better circumstances, surgery might be needed, but Saul's body is not strong enough to go through surgery. This isn't a situation in which we can think of the possibility of getting him better medical care in the US. It's true that the care would be better than what is currently available to him. And yet, it is also true that the disease he has is one that will eventually be fatal, no matter how good the medical care he receives.
I'd just learned all of this the day before. And I thought of it as I helped feed Saul the rest of the milkshake that he was unable to finish the night before.
And then I just couldn't do it. I felt the tears in my eyes. I mumbled something in Spanish about needing to get a napkin. I went straight to my room.
And there, sitting on my bed, I just lost it. I started crying, annoyed with myself for not being able to keep it together, but crying all the same. In my mind, I began counting off the days that I had left in El Salvador, trying to figure out how much longer I had to stay in this place I was not strong enough to deal with, how many more times I'd have to blink back tears.
I'd like to say that there was some great revelation that came to me, some great insight about life that straightened me up right in that moment. But life never really goes like that for me. What stopped my crying was knowing that there was a young boy who needed help eating his milkshake, who needed the napkin I said I was going to get.
I know Saul knew that I'd been crying. He didn't tell me he knew, but he is sweet and very wise. He also like stories about monsters. And music. And movies. And he puts up with my terrible Spanish, especially with the awful stories I make up before bedtime. And he likes to pray at night before he goes to sleep.
As it turned out, there weren't many more sad moments with Saul. Somehow the disease that weakens Saul's body, that thing which was at the front of my mind on that first day, moved to the back of my mind as I learned more about Saul, about his life and likes and dislikes.
But the day that I sat on my bed crying, I wondered why God would want me to be in El Salvador. Surely, I had misunderstood. Surely, God had plans for someone better suited. Someone less selfish, someone less materialistic, someone more giving, someone more loving. And yet, there I sat. I was the one in El Salvador, crying and wondering what I was to do. I guess I learned that I was there to love. I was there to give, even when I didn't feel like giving. And, in doing that, maybe I learned a little. Maybe I became a little more like the person God should have sent.
Or maybe not. I'm never too keen on being self congratulatory, and I'm still plenty rotten. :)
It was a Saturday afternoon, and, for reasons I cannot remember, there weren't many people around the orphanage. The members of the group we'd been with for the first week had left a few hours before, and we'd had a sad goodbye to them at the airport. The kids must have been doing something, and Susan and Maegen, my two roommates and fellow English speakers, must have been off with the kids.
Except one of the kids was there, and so was I. I was with Saul, a thirteen year old boy who has Muscular Dystrophy. He had also recently broken his leg in a fall from his wheelchair. In better circumstances, surgery might be needed, but Saul's body is not strong enough to go through surgery. This isn't a situation in which we can think of the possibility of getting him better medical care in the US. It's true that the care would be better than what is currently available to him. And yet, it is also true that the disease he has is one that will eventually be fatal, no matter how good the medical care he receives.
I'd just learned all of this the day before. And I thought of it as I helped feed Saul the rest of the milkshake that he was unable to finish the night before.
And then I just couldn't do it. I felt the tears in my eyes. I mumbled something in Spanish about needing to get a napkin. I went straight to my room.
And there, sitting on my bed, I just lost it. I started crying, annoyed with myself for not being able to keep it together, but crying all the same. In my mind, I began counting off the days that I had left in El Salvador, trying to figure out how much longer I had to stay in this place I was not strong enough to deal with, how many more times I'd have to blink back tears.
I'd like to say that there was some great revelation that came to me, some great insight about life that straightened me up right in that moment. But life never really goes like that for me. What stopped my crying was knowing that there was a young boy who needed help eating his milkshake, who needed the napkin I said I was going to get.
I know Saul knew that I'd been crying. He didn't tell me he knew, but he is sweet and very wise. He also like stories about monsters. And music. And movies. And he puts up with my terrible Spanish, especially with the awful stories I make up before bedtime. And he likes to pray at night before he goes to sleep.
As it turned out, there weren't many more sad moments with Saul. Somehow the disease that weakens Saul's body, that thing which was at the front of my mind on that first day, moved to the back of my mind as I learned more about Saul, about his life and likes and dislikes.
But the day that I sat on my bed crying, I wondered why God would want me to be in El Salvador. Surely, I had misunderstood. Surely, God had plans for someone better suited. Someone less selfish, someone less materialistic, someone more giving, someone more loving. And yet, there I sat. I was the one in El Salvador, crying and wondering what I was to do. I guess I learned that I was there to love. I was there to give, even when I didn't feel like giving. And, in doing that, maybe I learned a little. Maybe I became a little more like the person God should have sent.
Or maybe not. I'm never too keen on being self congratulatory, and I'm still plenty rotten. :)
Thursday, August 14, 2008
I'm Home! Sort of...
Well, I made it back to the USA in one piece, though I have to admit that I'd probably jump on a plane back to El Salvador in a minute if given the chance. :) It was a really amazing trip, and I have lots of things to write about. Right now I'm just getting readjusted to life in the US. It's really different.
I suppose a lot of people expect that it's a welcome relief for me to have a hot shower everyday and to have more freedom of movement. Soyapango and Ciudad Delgado (the areas of San Salvador where I lived) are fairly dangerous, so I wasn't able to just hop on a bus and go to the store whenever I wanted. But, the thing is, I wasn't ever scared. And, things like hot showers are nice but not necessary.
Getting readjusted to life here is strange and kind of funny at times. I still try to plan out how to say things in Spanish. I miss arroz and frijoles and tortillas and pupusas. I miss having roommates and eating PB&J with them in the mornings. And I really miss my kids. All thirty of them. I miss praying with them at night and getting hugs before going to sleep. I miss being there to see what's going on with them each day.
But, I know that I will go back. And between now and then, I'll have plenty of hot showers! :)
So, that's what's up with me right now. I have plenty to tell you all about El Salvador and the wonderful kids there. For now, I'll leave you with this video. The song is the Spanish version of Hillsong United's "Take it All." It is really popular with the kids, and it is proof that a life in Christ can, in fact, rock. ;)
I suppose a lot of people expect that it's a welcome relief for me to have a hot shower everyday and to have more freedom of movement. Soyapango and Ciudad Delgado (the areas of San Salvador where I lived) are fairly dangerous, so I wasn't able to just hop on a bus and go to the store whenever I wanted. But, the thing is, I wasn't ever scared. And, things like hot showers are nice but not necessary.
Getting readjusted to life here is strange and kind of funny at times. I still try to plan out how to say things in Spanish. I miss arroz and frijoles and tortillas and pupusas. I miss having roommates and eating PB&J with them in the mornings. And I really miss my kids. All thirty of them. I miss praying with them at night and getting hugs before going to sleep. I miss being there to see what's going on with them each day.
But, I know that I will go back. And between now and then, I'll have plenty of hot showers! :)
So, that's what's up with me right now. I have plenty to tell you all about El Salvador and the wonderful kids there. For now, I'll leave you with this video. The song is the Spanish version of Hillsong United's "Take it All." It is really popular with the kids, and it is proof that a life in Christ can, in fact, rock. ;)
Friday, August 01, 2008
A long time coming!
I hate to write a blog that starts off, "I'm sorry that I haven't written in so long." But that's just what I'm writing.
I've been really busy lately, and my access to the internet has been pretty limited. It's limited because I've been living at an orphanage in El Salvador. My days are pretty full, playing with and talking to kids, so even if there was a decent internet connection, I'm not sure that I'd have much time to write. I won't be here forever (though I wouldn't entirely object to that), so I will be writing again.
And I'll have plenty to write about. From just today, I can write about the village of Panchimalco, a colonial church from the 1500s, holy water, Puerta del Diablo, a trip to the jungle, conversations with our taxi driver, and how great it is to get hugs and kisses from lots of kids every day.
So, my days here are pretty full. But also really blessed. Perhaps I won't go home after all! ;)
Love,
Sara
Oh, and by the way, I might have accidentally become Catholic today. But I'll have to check with the Catechism to see if what happened constitutes a real conversion. You know, since Vatican II, just about anything is possible! ;)
I've been really busy lately, and my access to the internet has been pretty limited. It's limited because I've been living at an orphanage in El Salvador. My days are pretty full, playing with and talking to kids, so even if there was a decent internet connection, I'm not sure that I'd have much time to write. I won't be here forever (though I wouldn't entirely object to that), so I will be writing again.
And I'll have plenty to write about. From just today, I can write about the village of Panchimalco, a colonial church from the 1500s, holy water, Puerta del Diablo, a trip to the jungle, conversations with our taxi driver, and how great it is to get hugs and kisses from lots of kids every day.
So, my days here are pretty full. But also really blessed. Perhaps I won't go home after all! ;)
Love,
Sara
Oh, and by the way, I might have accidentally become Catholic today. But I'll have to check with the Catechism to see if what happened constitutes a real conversion. You know, since Vatican II, just about anything is possible! ;)
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Today
Today is Mother's Day. So, I'd like to take this opportunity to say "Happy Mother's Day" to my mom.
Thank you for being my mom and for putting up with me for this long. Thank you for all your prayers, for never bothering me about being religious but for, instead, trusting in God that someday I would understand. Thank you for not insisting that I choose a practical major in college. Thank you for being there when I need to talk.
All of those things are amazing. But I refuse to thank you for always copying me. So, no thank you for getting matching purses, sunglasses, lipstick colors, jeans, and shoes with me. Seriously, lady, I know I'm fashionable, but we've got to stop dressing alike. :)
But, anyways, happy Mother's Day. I love you.
Love,
Sara Anna
Thank you for being my mom and for putting up with me for this long. Thank you for all your prayers, for never bothering me about being religious but for, instead, trusting in God that someday I would understand. Thank you for not insisting that I choose a practical major in college. Thank you for being there when I need to talk.
All of those things are amazing. But I refuse to thank you for always copying me. So, no thank you for getting matching purses, sunglasses, lipstick colors, jeans, and shoes with me. Seriously, lady, I know I'm fashionable, but we've got to stop dressing alike. :)
But, anyways, happy Mother's Day. I love you.
Love,
Sara Anna
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
A Good Book
A few weeks ago, I read a review of the book, Quaker Summer, by Lisa Samson. I thought it sounded good, so it stayed on my mind ever since then. And, because I'd been in the mood to read some fiction, I decided to pick it up the other day.
Now, the style of Samson's writing is really different than books I usually read. I don't mean that in a negative way, but she's very descriptive and is fond of metaphors and similes. Sometimes I didn't like her style and thought she got a little too fantastical in some of the storytelling.
BUT.
Oh, a big but. BUT, she takes on so many ideas and problems that it seems like most of us would rather shy away from. This novel takes on the issues of acquisitiveness, loss, ecuminism, religious splits, gossip, body image, relations between rich and poor, poverty, Christian responsibility, bullying, difficulties between liberal and conservative Christians. The list could go on. Seriously.
And, though Samson introduces all of these topics (and so many more), she's able to do so without seeming overly didactic. The reader is presented all of these topics through the struggles of a spiritual seeker, Heather, who, though a Christian, is trying to learn where she fits in and if she can reconcile her life of wealth with her calling as a Christian. That alone is reason enough to read this book because that question is a weighty one.
So, despite the fantastical turns of events, I'd recommend this book to anyone who wants a good read and who's thinking about similar questions.
Oh, the main character also makes cakes. And that's also reason enough to read it. I like books about people who make cakes, and I'm certain there aren't enough of them.
:)
Sara
Now, the style of Samson's writing is really different than books I usually read. I don't mean that in a negative way, but she's very descriptive and is fond of metaphors and similes. Sometimes I didn't like her style and thought she got a little too fantastical in some of the storytelling.
BUT.
Oh, a big but. BUT, she takes on so many ideas and problems that it seems like most of us would rather shy away from. This novel takes on the issues of acquisitiveness, loss, ecuminism, religious splits, gossip, body image, relations between rich and poor, poverty, Christian responsibility, bullying, difficulties between liberal and conservative Christians. The list could go on. Seriously.
And, though Samson introduces all of these topics (and so many more), she's able to do so without seeming overly didactic. The reader is presented all of these topics through the struggles of a spiritual seeker, Heather, who, though a Christian, is trying to learn where she fits in and if she can reconcile her life of wealth with her calling as a Christian. That alone is reason enough to read this book because that question is a weighty one.
So, despite the fantastical turns of events, I'd recommend this book to anyone who wants a good read and who's thinking about similar questions.
Oh, the main character also makes cakes. And that's also reason enough to read it. I like books about people who make cakes, and I'm certain there aren't enough of them.
:)
Sara
Monday, April 21, 2008
At the Library
Two mornings a week, I work at the library on campus. I am not a morning person, but, over this semester, I've noticed that some people really are. In fact, there are some people who are library regulars in the morning. It's kind of nice to see some of the same people when I get to work, even if I've never actually met them.
One person who I look forward to seeing is someone I've nicknamed "Chicago Guy." It's not a very creative nickname, but that's what I started to call him (only to myself, not to his face which I honestly am not sure I've ever even seen because his back is to me when I walk in).
I started calling him that because he is always (and I mean always) wearing a Cubs jacket and a Bears cap. What a perfect salute to two great Chicago teams, right? I think it's great.
Well, today was a really nice, warm day, and when I walked into the library I was caught a little off guard because I didn't see a Cubs jacket. It made me a little sad to think that, with the coming of spring, I'd never see Chicago Guy in his full Chicago gear. But then a spotted it. A Cubs jersey, Soriano specifically, and the Bears cap. I had to smile to see Chicago Guy in his spring uniform.
Thank you, Chicago Guy (whoever you are), for loving your teams and for making me smile.
One person who I look forward to seeing is someone I've nicknamed "Chicago Guy." It's not a very creative nickname, but that's what I started to call him (only to myself, not to his face which I honestly am not sure I've ever even seen because his back is to me when I walk in).
I started calling him that because he is always (and I mean always) wearing a Cubs jacket and a Bears cap. What a perfect salute to two great Chicago teams, right? I think it's great.
Well, today was a really nice, warm day, and when I walked into the library I was caught a little off guard because I didn't see a Cubs jacket. It made me a little sad to think that, with the coming of spring, I'd never see Chicago Guy in his full Chicago gear. But then a spotted it. A Cubs jersey, Soriano specifically, and the Bears cap. I had to smile to see Chicago Guy in his spring uniform.
Thank you, Chicago Guy (whoever you are), for loving your teams and for making me smile.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Small Something from a Sermon
Do you ever have it happen that what you remember of a song or movie or speech is maybe not what you were to have taken from it, really? But what you remember is some small something, maybe something said as an aside. Nothing important, nothing major. But something that just stood out for some reason.
Today in church I had that happen. Today in the middle of his sermon, the minister said,
"There's nothing I can do, except pray, which is really a lot."
I really liked that. I guess I liked it because I so often feel that there's very little that I can do to help things or change them or even to help people. I mean, I pray, but that often seems like so little.
And yet, that is probably the biggest thing I can do. To finally have the humility to admit that I, competent as I'd like to think I am, am just not as powerful as God, who can do all things. When I can do that, I guess it is really a lot.
Love,
Sara
Today in church I had that happen. Today in the middle of his sermon, the minister said,
"There's nothing I can do, except pray, which is really a lot."
I really liked that. I guess I liked it because I so often feel that there's very little that I can do to help things or change them or even to help people. I mean, I pray, but that often seems like so little.
And yet, that is probably the biggest thing I can do. To finally have the humility to admit that I, competent as I'd like to think I am, am just not as powerful as God, who can do all things. When I can do that, I guess it is really a lot.
Love,
Sara
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Books!
As promised, I'm giving you the run-down on the books I've been loving as of late. Now, I'm definitely not a skilled reviewer, but I thought I'd just share some books that I love and (maybe) let you know that you should check them out too.
So here they are!
Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality
I've written on this book before, but it definitely deserves inclusion in any list of my favorite books. Donald Miller does an amazing job of discussing his own spiritual journey and of introducing us to fellow spiritual travelers. It is a great way of seeing how God works in the least expected places--very personal, insightful, and funny. I like funny. Also check out To Own a Dragon: Reflections on Growing up without a Father and Searching for God Knows What. To Own a Dragon is a very honect reflection on Miller's own troubles with understanding faith in a Heavenly Father given the absence of his earthly father. In Searching for God Knows What Miller discusses the relational nature of Christianity in a way that is challenging and helpful.
Finding God at Harvard: Spiritual Journeys of Thinking Christians
There is so much good to say about this book. It is a series of essays by various people (many of whom you'll know) who either became or remained Christians while at Harvard. The authors come from a variety of fields--science, law, philosophy--yet they all share a common belief in Christ. It's just an amazing collection, and I've found essays from this book to answer any number of questions I've had about faith and the relation of faith to the world.
Girl Meets God
Yet another one that I've written on previously. But it is awesome. I read this at a time when I didn't really know that Christians could be so smart and witty and spiritual. All at the same time. Lauren Winner does a great job with this look at her own spiritual journey, giving us access to her struggles and triumphs. If you want another good read by Winner, check out Real Sex: The Naked Truth about Chastity. If you at this second are thinking, "A book about chastity? You do realize it's 2008, right?" Well, Winner is bright, honest and just plain real enough to make the topic readable and compelling. Check it out!
Basic Christianity
Beautifully written, carefully detailed explanation of the faith. I love this little book, and I was amazed at how it always seemed to have something to say to me. Even if you've been a Christian or a church-goer forever, I think there's something in this work of John Stott that will make you think or help you with your belief. Excellent.
The Case for Faith
Lee Strobel, journalist and former atheist, interviews a variety of experts to gain a greater understanding of the major objections to Christianity and the Christian answers to those objections. I'm not yet through with this book, but what I've read so far has been thoughtful and well argued. He has another book, The Case for Christ, that I definitely plan on reading.
Well, that's my little list. I recommend them all. Give them a try. Oh, I also really like the Bible. That's a good one too. :)
So here they are!
Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality
I've written on this book before, but it definitely deserves inclusion in any list of my favorite books. Donald Miller does an amazing job of discussing his own spiritual journey and of introducing us to fellow spiritual travelers. It is a great way of seeing how God works in the least expected places--very personal, insightful, and funny. I like funny. Also check out To Own a Dragon: Reflections on Growing up without a Father and Searching for God Knows What. To Own a Dragon is a very honect reflection on Miller's own troubles with understanding faith in a Heavenly Father given the absence of his earthly father. In Searching for God Knows What Miller discusses the relational nature of Christianity in a way that is challenging and helpful.
Finding God at Harvard: Spiritual Journeys of Thinking Christians
There is so much good to say about this book. It is a series of essays by various people (many of whom you'll know) who either became or remained Christians while at Harvard. The authors come from a variety of fields--science, law, philosophy--yet they all share a common belief in Christ. It's just an amazing collection, and I've found essays from this book to answer any number of questions I've had about faith and the relation of faith to the world.
Girl Meets God
Yet another one that I've written on previously. But it is awesome. I read this at a time when I didn't really know that Christians could be so smart and witty and spiritual. All at the same time. Lauren Winner does a great job with this look at her own spiritual journey, giving us access to her struggles and triumphs. If you want another good read by Winner, check out Real Sex: The Naked Truth about Chastity. If you at this second are thinking, "A book about chastity? You do realize it's 2008, right?" Well, Winner is bright, honest and just plain real enough to make the topic readable and compelling. Check it out!
Basic Christianity
Beautifully written, carefully detailed explanation of the faith. I love this little book, and I was amazed at how it always seemed to have something to say to me. Even if you've been a Christian or a church-goer forever, I think there's something in this work of John Stott that will make you think or help you with your belief. Excellent.
The Case for Faith
Lee Strobel, journalist and former atheist, interviews a variety of experts to gain a greater understanding of the major objections to Christianity and the Christian answers to those objections. I'm not yet through with this book, but what I've read so far has been thoughtful and well argued. He has another book, The Case for Christ, that I definitely plan on reading.
Well, that's my little list. I recommend them all. Give them a try. Oh, I also really like the Bible. That's a good one too. :)
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Some Recommendations
Today I was talking to a friend about Christian music. When I was very young, I mainly listened to Christian music, but as I got older, I listened to anything but Christian music. It just wasn't cool. Christian music always seemed to be several steps behind whatever was going on in music, and, as the rest of the world (including me) was sporting flannel shirts and chunky shoes, contemporary Christian music seemed perpetually clothed in a Jazzercise costume from the 80's.
I'm not judging. I'm just saying that you can't have that much synthesizer on a track unless you're expecting your listeners to start sweatin' to the oldies.
Now, my opinion of contemporary Christian music might have been swayed by the fact that I listened to very little of it, but whenever I bring up Christian music, I see that I'm not the only one to hold a negative opinion of it. The idea that Christian music equals bad music is pretty prevalent.
However, over the last year or so, I started listening to Christian music. Really, it started because I wanted something to lift my spirits, and my friend Brooke (my only friend who actually likes Christian music) had once told me that it's impossible to be in a bad mood while listening to Christian music. Apparently, it cured her road rage. So I gave it a try.
And, you know what? It turned out that there is really some good stuff out there. I even found out that I like some of the stuff that I would have considered too cheesy. Even that stuff made me feel really happy. So, here are some recommendations of good Christian music.
Phil Wickham: He's very young, but his lyrics are really insightful and filled with praise and poetry. "Divine Romance" is one of my absolute favorite songs. It's one of the songs that gave me hope for Christian music.
Leeland: I don't know much about them, but they're great. "Brighter Days" and "Beautiful Lord" are two of my favorites.
Jon Foreman: Just please, please check him out. His work is just beautiful. I love it.
Future of Forestry: I just learned about them. Very good!
I'd also recommend Sara Groves, Jars of Clay, Downhere, Red Mountain Church, Matt Redman, Chris Rice, FFH, and Third Day.
Seriously, I never, ever thought I'd like any Christian music, but this stuff is just good music. So, give it try!
Coming soon: Recommendations of awesome books that you should get and immediately read. And then discuss with friends over a giant plate of cookies. Or salad. But, if you're reading the Bible, remember that you have to eat chocolate. As we learned in Blue Like Jazz, the Bible is a chocolate thing. And if you didn't know that, then you have to start with Blue Like Jazz because that's way up there on the list of books I will recommend!
I'm not judging. I'm just saying that you can't have that much synthesizer on a track unless you're expecting your listeners to start sweatin' to the oldies.
Now, my opinion of contemporary Christian music might have been swayed by the fact that I listened to very little of it, but whenever I bring up Christian music, I see that I'm not the only one to hold a negative opinion of it. The idea that Christian music equals bad music is pretty prevalent.
However, over the last year or so, I started listening to Christian music. Really, it started because I wanted something to lift my spirits, and my friend Brooke (my only friend who actually likes Christian music) had once told me that it's impossible to be in a bad mood while listening to Christian music. Apparently, it cured her road rage. So I gave it a try.
And, you know what? It turned out that there is really some good stuff out there. I even found out that I like some of the stuff that I would have considered too cheesy. Even that stuff made me feel really happy. So, here are some recommendations of good Christian music.
Phil Wickham: He's very young, but his lyrics are really insightful and filled with praise and poetry. "Divine Romance" is one of my absolute favorite songs. It's one of the songs that gave me hope for Christian music.
Leeland: I don't know much about them, but they're great. "Brighter Days" and "Beautiful Lord" are two of my favorites.
Jon Foreman: Just please, please check him out. His work is just beautiful. I love it.
Future of Forestry: I just learned about them. Very good!
I'd also recommend Sara Groves, Jars of Clay, Downhere, Red Mountain Church, Matt Redman, Chris Rice, FFH, and Third Day.
Seriously, I never, ever thought I'd like any Christian music, but this stuff is just good music. So, give it try!
Coming soon: Recommendations of awesome books that you should get and immediately read. And then discuss with friends over a giant plate of cookies. Or salad. But, if you're reading the Bible, remember that you have to eat chocolate. As we learned in Blue Like Jazz, the Bible is a chocolate thing. And if you didn't know that, then you have to start with Blue Like Jazz because that's way up there on the list of books I will recommend!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Thoughts on an Old ID Picture
Last night, propelled by some odd sense of urgency and an unusual spurt of energy, I began to rummage through old boxes, cleaning out things I don't need, use, or want anymore. Of course, there were some old papers I'd written for classes, student evaluations, and half-used notebooks. I also found a cache of souvenirs--postcards, pictures, small remembrances of trips taken not so long ago.
I also found an old driver license. In it, I'm wearing a plum-colored turtleneck sweater; my hair is styled not unlike it is today; and I have on a pretty shade of lipstick. It's a nice picture. A pretty picture. I remember thinking just that when I had to get that license renewed, and I remember being glad that I'd taken a nice picture because usually those pictures turn out looking so bad.
But, when I looked at that picture last night, all I noticed was how very sad I looked. It is a pretty picture, but I just look so sad and scared, and all the sadness is right there in my eyes. Even I, opposed to excessive displays of affection as I am, had this urge to climb inside of that picture and hug the girl in it, to let her know that she doesn't deserve the sadness she's dealing with or the hurt she's feeling. I can't remember exactly when the picture was taken, but I know that I was very sad back then, and I know that that girl wouldn't have believed anything I'd tell her.
I'd rather not talk about what brought on the sadness. It's a long story, and it would take an entire book to discuss. Quite frankly, I've thought of writing that book. Don't be surprised if I do someday, though I can't imagine where Barnes and Noble would shelve it. Romance, Horror, Psychology, Fantasy, Self Help? Any of those would work. I sometimes feel like I lived all of those, and maybe that's why those eyes looked so sad.
What is amazing to me is that now, even on my saddest days (of which there aren't too many), there isn't that depth of sadness in my eyes. However, I have been that person. I was that person for quite a long while, and, though I no longer carry that weight of sadness, there is a part of me that still remembers what it is like to feel burdened by sadness, to carry it around for so long that the weight of it begins to feel normal, as if everyone must strugle constantly under the heavy burden of such sadness.
I suppose that I could feel angry about that time in my life. Anger would certainly be justified. And yet, I don't know that it would get me anywhere. I'd be trading the weight of sadness for the weight of anger. And, though my anger would be pointed toward someone else, it would still be my weight to carry, my burden to bear. I would feel no more free, no happier than with a yoke of sadness around my neck.
Could it be possible for me, instead, to find joy in that time of suffering? Not just joy in the fact that it's over, but true joy in the fact that I went through it? Could it, somehow, be possible to find the good in that time of life, to locate some small bit of goodness in all of that suffering?
The other day I was reading a book which I've been really lazy about reading. Lazy as in I hadn't gotten around to it even though I've had it for months. It's called The Case for Faith, and, in it the author, Lee Strobel, has a conversation with a scholar, Peter Kreeft, about faith and suffering and God. Kreeft says,
"Pain and suffering are frequently the the means by which we become motivated to finally surrender to God and to seek the cure of Christ. That's what we need most desperately. That's what will bring us the supreme joy of knowing Jesus."
Kreeft then goes on to have an exchange with Strobel, and in their exchange, Kreeft explains his previous statement more fully. Kreeft says,
"The practical conclusion is that, if we want to be with God, we have to be with suffering, we have to not avoid the cross, either in thought or in fact. We must go where he is and the cross is one of the places he is. And when he sends us sunrises, we thank him for the sunrises; when he sends us sunsets and deaths and sufferings and crosses, we thank him for that...
In heaven, we will do exactly that. We will say to God, 'Thank you so much for this little pain I didn't understand at the time, and that little pain I didn't understand at the time; these I now see were the most precious things in my life.'"
I don't always feel like I can say that just now, that I can always rejoice in those times I suffered, even the sufferings of years ago. And yet, I feel as if I've been able to see the small ways those pains and sufferings have moved me closer to Christ, closer to a faith that longs for the cross, closer to being the person who can, because of my own experiences, understand the pains of others, weep for the suffering of others, pray for the healing of others.
And though the girl in that picture shows such signs of pain and sadness, I know that even she found redemption, even she found the love of Christ and the hope for a new life in Him. And, to be truthful, she even has found some happiness in the least expected places.
I also found an old driver license. In it, I'm wearing a plum-colored turtleneck sweater; my hair is styled not unlike it is today; and I have on a pretty shade of lipstick. It's a nice picture. A pretty picture. I remember thinking just that when I had to get that license renewed, and I remember being glad that I'd taken a nice picture because usually those pictures turn out looking so bad.
But, when I looked at that picture last night, all I noticed was how very sad I looked. It is a pretty picture, but I just look so sad and scared, and all the sadness is right there in my eyes. Even I, opposed to excessive displays of affection as I am, had this urge to climb inside of that picture and hug the girl in it, to let her know that she doesn't deserve the sadness she's dealing with or the hurt she's feeling. I can't remember exactly when the picture was taken, but I know that I was very sad back then, and I know that that girl wouldn't have believed anything I'd tell her.
I'd rather not talk about what brought on the sadness. It's a long story, and it would take an entire book to discuss. Quite frankly, I've thought of writing that book. Don't be surprised if I do someday, though I can't imagine where Barnes and Noble would shelve it. Romance, Horror, Psychology, Fantasy, Self Help? Any of those would work. I sometimes feel like I lived all of those, and maybe that's why those eyes looked so sad.
What is amazing to me is that now, even on my saddest days (of which there aren't too many), there isn't that depth of sadness in my eyes. However, I have been that person. I was that person for quite a long while, and, though I no longer carry that weight of sadness, there is a part of me that still remembers what it is like to feel burdened by sadness, to carry it around for so long that the weight of it begins to feel normal, as if everyone must strugle constantly under the heavy burden of such sadness.
I suppose that I could feel angry about that time in my life. Anger would certainly be justified. And yet, I don't know that it would get me anywhere. I'd be trading the weight of sadness for the weight of anger. And, though my anger would be pointed toward someone else, it would still be my weight to carry, my burden to bear. I would feel no more free, no happier than with a yoke of sadness around my neck.
Could it be possible for me, instead, to find joy in that time of suffering? Not just joy in the fact that it's over, but true joy in the fact that I went through it? Could it, somehow, be possible to find the good in that time of life, to locate some small bit of goodness in all of that suffering?
The other day I was reading a book which I've been really lazy about reading. Lazy as in I hadn't gotten around to it even though I've had it for months. It's called The Case for Faith, and, in it the author, Lee Strobel, has a conversation with a scholar, Peter Kreeft, about faith and suffering and God. Kreeft says,
"Pain and suffering are frequently the the means by which we become motivated to finally surrender to God and to seek the cure of Christ. That's what we need most desperately. That's what will bring us the supreme joy of knowing Jesus."
Kreeft then goes on to have an exchange with Strobel, and in their exchange, Kreeft explains his previous statement more fully. Kreeft says,
"The practical conclusion is that, if we want to be with God, we have to be with suffering, we have to not avoid the cross, either in thought or in fact. We must go where he is and the cross is one of the places he is. And when he sends us sunrises, we thank him for the sunrises; when he sends us sunsets and deaths and sufferings and crosses, we thank him for that...
In heaven, we will do exactly that. We will say to God, 'Thank you so much for this little pain I didn't understand at the time, and that little pain I didn't understand at the time; these I now see were the most precious things in my life.'"
I don't always feel like I can say that just now, that I can always rejoice in those times I suffered, even the sufferings of years ago. And yet, I feel as if I've been able to see the small ways those pains and sufferings have moved me closer to Christ, closer to a faith that longs for the cross, closer to being the person who can, because of my own experiences, understand the pains of others, weep for the suffering of others, pray for the healing of others.
And though the girl in that picture shows such signs of pain and sadness, I know that even she found redemption, even she found the love of Christ and the hope for a new life in Him. And, to be truthful, she even has found some happiness in the least expected places.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
The Simple Life
Since I got my new computer, I've had to wrestle with my addictive nature. I've already confessed my photo-taking compulsion, but I have not yet addressed my iTunes addiction. Seriously, people. It's bad.
Or at least it was for a little while. As of late, I'm not shopping up a storm on iTunes, but it is pretty tough knowing that I'm just a few clicks away from owning virtually any song I can think of. Imagine that. A music store right here on my desk. It's a temptation.
While I was in the midst of my music-buying fervor, I purchased some old stuff. Old church stuff, to be exact. Even I cringe a little bit thinking about those purchases. I'm not sure what made me do it, but I suddenly found myself buying a few songs by The Imperials. Now, for those who aren't in the know, The Imperials were a contemporary Christian group back in the day. The music is a little (okay, a lot) dated by now, but their harmonies are still amazing to hear. They really had a lot of talent.
The song I remembered most was "Eagle Song." And, as I listened to it--remembering hearing it when I was just a little girl at my Nana's house on 29th Street--I kept thinking over one line. "Simplicity of God somehow escapes man." It's in a section of the song where the lyrics are reflecting on our need to constantly question, to not be content with explanations that necessitate faith.
I know that's something that is very hard for me. I constantly question. I'm never content with an easy answer, and I usually feel like the solution to so many things must be complex or must come about by exhausting many possibilities.
But, there is this part of me that lately has come to see a simplicity to life, a simplicity of faith, of belief. I want questions of faith, questions of God even, to be so difficult to answer, and yet, the more I think about those things, the simpler they become. As if learning more about faith, more about God, makes them more a part of me, more a part of who I am. And, as I am grafted into a deeper understanding of my faith, of my God, understanding becomes quite simple because having faith and knowing God are simply part of who I am.
So, that's what I've thought about lately. It's just simple stuff, really.
Love,
Sara
Or at least it was for a little while. As of late, I'm not shopping up a storm on iTunes, but it is pretty tough knowing that I'm just a few clicks away from owning virtually any song I can think of. Imagine that. A music store right here on my desk. It's a temptation.
While I was in the midst of my music-buying fervor, I purchased some old stuff. Old church stuff, to be exact. Even I cringe a little bit thinking about those purchases. I'm not sure what made me do it, but I suddenly found myself buying a few songs by The Imperials. Now, for those who aren't in the know, The Imperials were a contemporary Christian group back in the day. The music is a little (okay, a lot) dated by now, but their harmonies are still amazing to hear. They really had a lot of talent.
The song I remembered most was "Eagle Song." And, as I listened to it--remembering hearing it when I was just a little girl at my Nana's house on 29th Street--I kept thinking over one line. "Simplicity of God somehow escapes man." It's in a section of the song where the lyrics are reflecting on our need to constantly question, to not be content with explanations that necessitate faith.
I know that's something that is very hard for me. I constantly question. I'm never content with an easy answer, and I usually feel like the solution to so many things must be complex or must come about by exhausting many possibilities.
But, there is this part of me that lately has come to see a simplicity to life, a simplicity of faith, of belief. I want questions of faith, questions of God even, to be so difficult to answer, and yet, the more I think about those things, the simpler they become. As if learning more about faith, more about God, makes them more a part of me, more a part of who I am. And, as I am grafted into a deeper understanding of my faith, of my God, understanding becomes quite simple because having faith and knowing God are simply part of who I am.
So, that's what I've thought about lately. It's just simple stuff, really.
Love,
Sara
Thursday, April 10, 2008
The Greta
This is Greta. Normally, she's very camera shy, but for some reason, as I was trying to capture a picture of my oh so spacious kitchen, Greta decided to get in on the action. It was pretty funny to watch. So perfectly timed.
I've actually thought about posting something on Greta for a while. A few months ago, Greta had a seizure. It was really scary for me because over the past six years Greta has become such a part of my life. And, truthfully, I think I've become a better person for having Greta in my life.
That probably sounds a little weird, but I think it's true. Sometimes I think God put Greta in my life to teach me kindness, empathy, a whole lot of other things. Maybe even to teach me a little about love. Whatever the case, I'm glad He put her in my life. She's a great dog. And now you can all see how very cute she is too. :)
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
The Picture-Taking Addiction Continues...
You might be wondering why this girl looks so happy. There are plenty of reasons. And I don't really think the reason matters so long as I'm happy, right? ;)
I will let you all in on a secret. I invented a new cookie the other day. It's delicious. Like ridiculously delicious. It's smiling-as-big-as-I-am-in-that-picture delicious! Maybe I'll have to take some pictures of those cookies and post them here!
I hope you all had a great day!
Love,
Sara
On Kindness
Friday at the end of our Bible Study, we got to hear a beautifully sung version of Psalm 121. I know that the Psalms are, obviously, songs, but, because I've always read them, not sung them, I usually think of them as pure poetry, without any music.
And yet, our lesson that day touched on the ways that music speaks to our souls. In fact, the question was asked if it was possible that music is the language that speaks most clearly to our spirits, if our spirits somehow understand music at a greater depth than any other form of communication. I'm inclined to think that this might be true, as I think of all those songs that speak to me more deeply than spoken words can.
I know that when I've heard the words of Psalms woven into music, I feel those words more than when I just read them. One woman in our group really loved the version of Psalm 121 that we heard in Bible Study, and she wanted to know where to find similar music. I overheard her asking someone about it, so I told her that I have some similar music and would be happy to bring her a CD next week.
It's not a big deal. It's really easy for me to do, and I even had fun doing it that night, in part because it gave me something fun to do while I was sick.
But, when I told her I could make her a CD, she was overjoyed. I couldn't believe how happy such a simple gesture made her. You know, it's wonderful to see people happy when they're shown kindnesses, but it also makes me wonder why we are so surprised when people extend kindness to us. I do the same thing though. I'm equally surprised and happy to have someone be kind to me.
Perhaps that's because kindness seems rare sometimes. And perhaps that's because, though I know that being kind should come naturally to me, it sometimes doesn't. Sometimes it can be very hard. With some people, it can be very difficult to be kind. Sometimes, it even feels a little better to be unkind to certain people.
But, if I allow myself to see how difficult it is to be kind in a certain situation, I might avoid it altogether. And the more I avoid the difficult situations, the less attuned I am to seeing acts of kindness as a natural part of my life.
I guess we realize the simplicity of genuine kindness by practicing it in even the difficult times. Perhaps in practicing kindness, the language of our spirits becomes evident to others. As music speaks to the depths of our own souls, perhaps our kindnesses will speak to the souls of those around us.
One of my favorite songs talks about this. And, yes, that song made it onto the CD. It's called "Kingdom Comes," and it's by Sara Groves. Forgive me for giving you all the lyrics, but they're all so good that I just couldn't cut anything out.
"Kingdom Comes"
When anger fills your heart
When in your pain and hurt
You find the strength to stop
You bless instead of curse
When doubting floods your soul
Though all things feel unjust
You open up your heart
You find a way to trust
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
When fear engulfs your mind
Says you protect your own
You still extend your hand
You open up your home
When sorrow fills your life
When in your grief and pain
You choose again to rise
You choose to bless the name
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
In the mundane tasks of living
In the pouring out and giving
In the waking up and trying
In the laying down and dying
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
If you made it this far in the post, I send all my love to you. If you didn't, I'll still send it to you.
Love, Sara
And yet, our lesson that day touched on the ways that music speaks to our souls. In fact, the question was asked if it was possible that music is the language that speaks most clearly to our spirits, if our spirits somehow understand music at a greater depth than any other form of communication. I'm inclined to think that this might be true, as I think of all those songs that speak to me more deeply than spoken words can.
I know that when I've heard the words of Psalms woven into music, I feel those words more than when I just read them. One woman in our group really loved the version of Psalm 121 that we heard in Bible Study, and she wanted to know where to find similar music. I overheard her asking someone about it, so I told her that I have some similar music and would be happy to bring her a CD next week.
It's not a big deal. It's really easy for me to do, and I even had fun doing it that night, in part because it gave me something fun to do while I was sick.
But, when I told her I could make her a CD, she was overjoyed. I couldn't believe how happy such a simple gesture made her. You know, it's wonderful to see people happy when they're shown kindnesses, but it also makes me wonder why we are so surprised when people extend kindness to us. I do the same thing though. I'm equally surprised and happy to have someone be kind to me.
Perhaps that's because kindness seems rare sometimes. And perhaps that's because, though I know that being kind should come naturally to me, it sometimes doesn't. Sometimes it can be very hard. With some people, it can be very difficult to be kind. Sometimes, it even feels a little better to be unkind to certain people.
But, if I allow myself to see how difficult it is to be kind in a certain situation, I might avoid it altogether. And the more I avoid the difficult situations, the less attuned I am to seeing acts of kindness as a natural part of my life.
I guess we realize the simplicity of genuine kindness by practicing it in even the difficult times. Perhaps in practicing kindness, the language of our spirits becomes evident to others. As music speaks to the depths of our own souls, perhaps our kindnesses will speak to the souls of those around us.
One of my favorite songs talks about this. And, yes, that song made it onto the CD. It's called "Kingdom Comes," and it's by Sara Groves. Forgive me for giving you all the lyrics, but they're all so good that I just couldn't cut anything out.
"Kingdom Comes"
When anger fills your heart
When in your pain and hurt
You find the strength to stop
You bless instead of curse
When doubting floods your soul
Though all things feel unjust
You open up your heart
You find a way to trust
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
When fear engulfs your mind
Says you protect your own
You still extend your hand
You open up your home
When sorrow fills your life
When in your grief and pain
You choose again to rise
You choose to bless the name
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
In the mundane tasks of living
In the pouring out and giving
In the waking up and trying
In the laying down and dying
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
If you made it this far in the post, I send all my love to you. If you didn't, I'll still send it to you.
Love, Sara
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Thoughts for Sunday
Sometimes I am amazed by the simple ways God lets us know that He really cares about us, that He really is there for us at all times, in the everyday things we usually take for granted.
Today was one of those days for me. There are many changes going on in my life. To be honest, I'm really excited about these changes. They're very positive changes, and I'm really happy about them. But they are, after all, changes. And, even with positive changes, there always comes the realization that things will be profoundly different. Changed.
And, there is a part of me (and I'm sure most all of us), that gets a little nervous about change.
So today I sat in church with some of these worries on my mind. There are usually a dozen things going on in my mind, so that's nothing new. But, I was just feeling a little out of sorts as I sat there. As we took communion, the organist started playing a song so slowly that I almost didn't recognize it. I'd only heard it once before in church. It was "Spirit of God, Descend Upon my Heart."
The first time I heard it, it spoke to me at a time when I was full of nervousness and sadness. I was feeling as if I should commit myself more deeply to my faith, and I was battling that feeling. The words of that hymn spoke to me about what a deep faith in God really means, what it truly means to follow Christ. I loved it immediately, though I knew I was being called to something that would change me deeply and permanently.
When I heard it today, I remembered that first and only other time I'd heard it in church. I remembered where I sat in church, how I felt, what I thought. And, then I thought how wonderful it was that I was hearing that same song today. Just a little bit ago, I was again thinking about the first time I heard that hymn. I remembered that the other hymn we sang that Sunday was "His Eye is on the Sparrow." I remembered that, though the first hymn had challenged me, this second hymn reminded me that God never calls us to something without also giving us the assurance that He will be there for us. And, anxious as I still felt, I knew that I could put my trust in Him.
So that's what I thought about today. I thought about how amazing it is that I heard this song again today, a reminder that God is concerned about me, does care about me, and is there in even the smallest parts of my life.
I used to always think of those things as coincidences. I would have thought that what I just wrote was really silly. I would have said, "There are plenty of important things for God to be concerned about. He's not really that concerned about the simple goings on of your life." But, back then I never looked for God. I never even thought to anticipate that God might really care about me, might really want me to have a sense of peace. I guess what has changed isn't God. What's changed is the way I see the world. I guess I'm beginning to finally appreciate that God cares very deeply for us, that there aren't as many coincidences as I originally thought. Quite honestly, I like that.
Today was one of those days for me. There are many changes going on in my life. To be honest, I'm really excited about these changes. They're very positive changes, and I'm really happy about them. But they are, after all, changes. And, even with positive changes, there always comes the realization that things will be profoundly different. Changed.
And, there is a part of me (and I'm sure most all of us), that gets a little nervous about change.
So today I sat in church with some of these worries on my mind. There are usually a dozen things going on in my mind, so that's nothing new. But, I was just feeling a little out of sorts as I sat there. As we took communion, the organist started playing a song so slowly that I almost didn't recognize it. I'd only heard it once before in church. It was "Spirit of God, Descend Upon my Heart."
The first time I heard it, it spoke to me at a time when I was full of nervousness and sadness. I was feeling as if I should commit myself more deeply to my faith, and I was battling that feeling. The words of that hymn spoke to me about what a deep faith in God really means, what it truly means to follow Christ. I loved it immediately, though I knew I was being called to something that would change me deeply and permanently.
When I heard it today, I remembered that first and only other time I'd heard it in church. I remembered where I sat in church, how I felt, what I thought. And, then I thought how wonderful it was that I was hearing that same song today. Just a little bit ago, I was again thinking about the first time I heard that hymn. I remembered that the other hymn we sang that Sunday was "His Eye is on the Sparrow." I remembered that, though the first hymn had challenged me, this second hymn reminded me that God never calls us to something without also giving us the assurance that He will be there for us. And, anxious as I still felt, I knew that I could put my trust in Him.
So that's what I thought about today. I thought about how amazing it is that I heard this song again today, a reminder that God is concerned about me, does care about me, and is there in even the smallest parts of my life.
I used to always think of those things as coincidences. I would have thought that what I just wrote was really silly. I would have said, "There are plenty of important things for God to be concerned about. He's not really that concerned about the simple goings on of your life." But, back then I never looked for God. I never even thought to anticipate that God might really care about me, might really want me to have a sense of peace. I guess what has changed isn't God. What's changed is the way I see the world. I guess I'm beginning to finally appreciate that God cares very deeply for us, that there aren't as many coincidences as I originally thought. Quite honestly, I like that.
Friday, April 04, 2008
O Love that will not let me go
I've started going to a Bible Study that meets on Friday afternoons. We're studying the Psalms of Ascent (Psalms 120 to 134), and it seems like it's going to be a wonderful time of experiencing the real joy (maybe even happiness) that comes from turning to God in times of trouble. I really love these Bible Studies because it's good to see how other people are affected by reading the same things, how the words speak to their hearts and not just my own.
One really daunting but exciting part of this study is that we're writing our own Psalms. That's right. I just said writing our own Psalms. Scary, right? Well, I have to admit that I was not one of the brave souls today who shared her writing. Perhaps in time, but not today. But, I have to say that, though I didn't share today, I was deeply blessed by hearing the women who shared their writing.
I am always so impressed by these women who, though they have followed God for so long, are still so eager to learn more of Him, to know Him more. And, when I heard their writing today, it made me think of how God speaks to us in different ways at different seasons in our lives. It's beautiful, really, but as we read Psalms 120 and 121 this week, each of us in some way identified with the psalmist and his fears. Each of us had different reasons to fear, and God had different words for each of us, spoke to us all in ways that directly addressed our fears.
And the women who read their Psalms today reminded me that, through all my changes, God will still be the same. He will still be the God who speaks to me in my distress, my fear, my worry. "My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth," today and for the rest of my life. Though I will change many times during my stay here on earth, God will not change.
I've been thinking of this everlasting love lately, and this hymn has been a great joy to me. I hope you love it too.
"O Love that will not let me go"
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
Just a note about this hymn. I've been listening to a really simple and beautiful version of the hymn sung by Chris Rice. The hymn was written by George Matheson. Of the hymn, Matheson wrote,
"My hymn was composed in the manse of Innelan [Argyleshire, Scotland] on the evening of the 6th of June, 1882, when I was 40 years of age. I was alone in the manse at that time. It was the night of my sister’s marriage, and the rest of the family were staying overnight in Glasgow. Something happened to me, which was known only to myself, and which caused me the most severe mental suffering. The hymn was the fruit of that suffering. It was the quickest bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the impression of having it dictated to me by some inward voice rather than of working it out myself. I am quite sure that the whole work was completed in five minutes, and equally sure that it never received at my hands any retouching or correction. I have no natural gift of rhythm. All the other verses I have ever written are manufactured articles; this came like a dayspring from on high" (from Cyberhymnal).
Can you imagine a more exquisite way to find God in the midst of suffering? Like a dayspring from on high. I love it.
One really daunting but exciting part of this study is that we're writing our own Psalms. That's right. I just said writing our own Psalms. Scary, right? Well, I have to admit that I was not one of the brave souls today who shared her writing. Perhaps in time, but not today. But, I have to say that, though I didn't share today, I was deeply blessed by hearing the women who shared their writing.
I am always so impressed by these women who, though they have followed God for so long, are still so eager to learn more of Him, to know Him more. And, when I heard their writing today, it made me think of how God speaks to us in different ways at different seasons in our lives. It's beautiful, really, but as we read Psalms 120 and 121 this week, each of us in some way identified with the psalmist and his fears. Each of us had different reasons to fear, and God had different words for each of us, spoke to us all in ways that directly addressed our fears.
And the women who read their Psalms today reminded me that, through all my changes, God will still be the same. He will still be the God who speaks to me in my distress, my fear, my worry. "My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth," today and for the rest of my life. Though I will change many times during my stay here on earth, God will not change.
I've been thinking of this everlasting love lately, and this hymn has been a great joy to me. I hope you love it too.
"O Love that will not let me go"
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
Just a note about this hymn. I've been listening to a really simple and beautiful version of the hymn sung by Chris Rice. The hymn was written by George Matheson. Of the hymn, Matheson wrote,
"My hymn was composed in the manse of Innelan [Argyleshire, Scotland] on the evening of the 6th of June, 1882, when I was 40 years of age. I was alone in the manse at that time. It was the night of my sister’s marriage, and the rest of the family were staying overnight in Glasgow. Something happened to me, which was known only to myself, and which caused me the most severe mental suffering. The hymn was the fruit of that suffering. It was the quickest bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the impression of having it dictated to me by some inward voice rather than of working it out myself. I am quite sure that the whole work was completed in five minutes, and equally sure that it never received at my hands any retouching or correction. I have no natural gift of rhythm. All the other verses I have ever written are manufactured articles; this came like a dayspring from on high" (from Cyberhymnal).
Can you imagine a more exquisite way to find God in the midst of suffering? Like a dayspring from on high. I love it.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Pictorial Proof of Needed Prayer
The new Mac might be creating a monster. And that monster might be me. You see, the new computer has a camera built right into it. It's like having a toy on my desk.
And that has been a little dangerous. Now, I've never been much of a picture taker, but this little camera is pretty fun. I'll show you some of the evidence.
This is me this evening:
I also decided to look like I was deep in thought about something:
Perhaps I was deep in thought about how much I need a manicure. Look at those nails! :) But, then I thought I'd try for "sitting at my desk, so happy I could burst":
This afternoon, I even tried to get Greta in on the act:
But she wasn't having it, so I tried for happy, upbeat photo of me again:
Do you see what I mean? I'm turning into a photo monster. This is surely what happens when an only child's dream comes true--constant access to a camera that was designed to take pictures of just one person. Pray for me, people. This can't be good!
;)
Sara
And that has been a little dangerous. Now, I've never been much of a picture taker, but this little camera is pretty fun. I'll show you some of the evidence.
This is me this evening:
I also decided to look like I was deep in thought about something:
Perhaps I was deep in thought about how much I need a manicure. Look at those nails! :) But, then I thought I'd try for "sitting at my desk, so happy I could burst":
This afternoon, I even tried to get Greta in on the act:
But she wasn't having it, so I tried for happy, upbeat photo of me again:
Do you see what I mean? I'm turning into a photo monster. This is surely what happens when an only child's dream comes true--constant access to a camera that was designed to take pictures of just one person. Pray for me, people. This can't be good!
;)
Sara
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Running through the Rain
I went for a run yesterday. The first time it's been warm enough for me to get out and run, though the weather was still not so good. It was gray out and sprinkling as I set out on the run. The sprinkling turned to harder rain, but I kept running.
I had my new iPod filled with songs, and good ones kept coming on. While I was out, the play list included songs about God's redemption, grace, and love. Somehow, out there in the rain, running down the street, I just felt so close to God. Out of shape as I was, I felt this desire to keep running, felt this ability to keep running. And it felt good.
You know, it's so easy to see God on a beautiful day, to imagine how He made the sky so beautiful and blue. But isn't it good to know that on those gray and rainy days, we can find Him too?
I had my new iPod filled with songs, and good ones kept coming on. While I was out, the play list included songs about God's redemption, grace, and love. Somehow, out there in the rain, running down the street, I just felt so close to God. Out of shape as I was, I felt this desire to keep running, felt this ability to keep running. And it felt good.
You know, it's so easy to see God on a beautiful day, to imagine how He made the sky so beautiful and blue. But isn't it good to know that on those gray and rainy days, we can find Him too?
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