Merry Christmas

Though it's starting to become cliché, I thought I would post some musings on the "Merry Christmas" vs. "Happy Holidays" issue. Actually, my thoughts are more general than that. I think the Happy Holidays issue has been blown out of proportion, even by those who complain that it has been blown out of proportion. The problem with it is not so much whether or not we should be forcing Christmas on others. To me, it's similar to the gay marriage issue. I know some readers are saying, "Where in the world is she going with this one?" Well, the truth is, I'm not sure... stay with me. It almost amuses me that people are making it into a legal issue, when it's really a religious one. The institution of marriage is ordained by God. God created it to be a certain thing. The American people either don't realize this, or have forgotten it. The idea of making a constitutional amendment to define marriage, is as crazy to me as making a constitutional amendment to make stipulations on who is or isn't saved. It is almost comical that those who have little regard for anything else scriptural, are fighting to protect an ordinance of God that they really don't understand. With that said, let's consider this phraseology problem. I don't care to force people to say Merry Christmas, as much as I care about the disappearance of the meaning of Christmas. The political correctness has long been out of hand. I think those who are enraged by the removal of "Merry Christmas" are feeling the frustration of the loss of their freedom of religion. No, it's not an incredibly huge problem, but it typifies one. What the American public is failing to grasp is that Christmas is a religious holiday! Yes, many of our traditions have their roots in pagan customs, but Christmas, by its very name, is about Christ! We are a society that is becoming increasingly less Christ-like and Christ-serving, yet we fight tooth and nail to keep our Christmas trees and Christmas presents and Christmas decorations. My desire is that all people- Christians, non-Christians, those who think they're Christians but show little evidence of it- would focus on Jesus and the reason He came, not just at Christmas, but all through the year. And maybe, those who think they have it figured out, could share that message with others, instead of harping on politics and semantics.

Delayed Reports

It has been so long! I actually don't have much to say at the moment which is ironic since I've had lots to say in the last month and a half but couldn't sign onto Blogger. The highlights, since my last post are that I went back to Carson-Newman for Homecoming and then last weekend, my sister got married. There were plenty of other things worth noting, but I'm not recalling them at the moment. And of course, there's a lot to say on either of those subjects as well. I already started an entry about college, so I'll wait on the CNC thing until I can get back to that one. For now, let's just pick up where we are with the wedding.

People go to weddings all the time. It's not a big deal, right? I mean, it's pretty significant when it's your own (I assume, having never been in that position), but when someone else gets married it's just like the passage of time. At least that's sort of how I always looked at it. Don't get me wrong, I don't take marriage lightly at all; and there is a sentimental, over-analytical part of me that always takes a deeper look into the event. But this wedding has such a grip on me that I went into it with an anticipation almost like that of a bride, and I have been dwelling on it all week since.

Aside from my step-sister, this was our first family wedding. I first thought it would be difficult for me to handle my little sister getting married before me, but that thought was not usually at the forefront of my mind. Instead, I was so excited for her and just wanted everything to be perfect for her. I wanted to soak in every moment so that in the coming years, as we reminisce, it will be a cherished memory to talk about and share with even her children. I was overwhelmed by the sense of peace that I had in knowing that she was in the center of God's will. I thought about how I was just starting to develop a bond with her and now I was letting her go. I thought about the conversations we'd had over what she wanted in a husband, in a wedding, and in a marriage and how she was getting everything she had hoped and prayed for. It was a crazy weekend of preparation that left us all in need of some stress relief (and some even partaking in the medicinal kind!). But, when the bridesmaids had processed to the front and the glorious bridal processional started as the back doors opened to reveal she and my father standing there, I thought it was one of the most beautiful moments I had witnessed in my life. To look across at my brothers and know that we were all able to experience this together, to sing with one brother while the bride and groom joined in a song of praise to God, to watch her be overcome with emotion at the sight of our handiwork in making the reception of her imagination come true- these are the things I will carry with me and think of when I remember this wonderful day. I love my sister, and I hope that she will one day get a glimpse into what I felt for her this weekend as I watched her take the hand of a man I respect, and become his beautiful bride.

Men who hit, and the women who love them

This day is dragging on so I thought I would get on here and ramble. Here is what plagues my thoughts today: Domestic Violence: Men who abuse, and, more importantly, women who let them.
It is a good thing that I don't work directly with this area of crime, but I still run across things that boggle my mind. When a man is arrested for Criminal Domestic Violence year after year, month after month, and the victim is the same woman, I just cringe. I have long wondered about the "battered wife syndrome," a term that I can't remember if I heard or made up. What is it that makes a woman stay with a man who mistreats her? This takes all forms: emotional abuse, physical abuse, psychological abuse, cheating, etc. And though it is all wrong, I suppose the lines of anything other than physical abuse are more gray. But when someone hits another person, it's fairly obvious to that person that something very definitive and wrong has just occurred. Why would that victim stay with the person? I know that the victims are extremely insecure. I know that the abusers turn on the charm and try to make the victims feel better or twist the events to make it seem like the victim deserved it. I know these things. But in my heart, I grieve for these women who are so desperate to be loved, that they find a cheap imitation and settle for their own destruction. I wish that every woman knew her worth in God's eyes. I wish that every little girl would know a man's pure love so she didn't grow up searching in all of the wrong places for what she lacks. As always, I wish I could help.

What's New

Seeing as how I have been employed for almost a month now, I suppose "Vocational Purgatory" isn't exactly accurate anymore. However, I do still feel that way, in a sense, because I'm not, nor do I desire to be, settled here. I am working at the Solicitor's Office in Spartanburg County which provokes remarks about exactly what I am soliciting. For you non-South Carolinians, it's the District Attorney's office. Basically, I work with the folks who prosecute criminals. It is interesting to read police reports and watch the news unfold, but aside from that, it's not too exciting for me. I suppose I can settle for the fact that in some small way, I am helping ensure the safety of my community.
So, I am working. And though I have settled for "working to eat," aside from a brief conversation at church yesterday, I haven't heard a single thing from the resumes and emails I sent out over a month ago. However, I will soon be teaching a couple of voice classes which should get my foot in the proverbial door, and I was recently approached by the Boys and Girls Club for the purpose of teaching drama and/or a choir. That one would be volunteer, but it's something. Aside from those things, I am co-leading an 8th grade girls discipleship group, teaching 5th grade children's choir, singing at a senior adult luncheon, playing the flute in the orchestra for "State Fair," and choreographing and performing with a local drama troupe. So, I'm a tent maker, but I'm doing what I love and what I was born to do. For now, I'll take it.

Vocational Purgatory

I keep feeling like I should post something new. I no longer have the excuse of no time and have actually spent a large amount of time on the computer in recent days. So, without excuses I am left with the desire to say something but not sure about how I feel about this transitional period in which I find myself. I felt God leading me away from my job. It was probably even overdue. I felt Him leading me to work at SeeSalt and then trust Him for the rest. So I did. Now I'm into "the rest" and feeling rather abandoned. I don't have a very good idea of what I'm supposed to be doing and even if I just settle for working to eat instead of eating to work, I don't have any strong leads for that either. I think I know the long range plans but am starting to feel like there are many steps between now and then. I am starting to doubt decisions I made a long time ago that I thought were Spirit-led. In my heart I know it was the right thing but my head would sure like to argue with it in the face of difficulty. Regardless, there's nothing I can do about that now. I would really like to get to a point in life where I didn't have to continually ask, "What's next?" I guess that won't ever really end, but do I have to be this unsettled ALL the time? I keep going through an endless cycle of asking, waiting, listening, grasping at air, and starting over. It's getting old and I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere. Change should be exciting, but is it any wonder that it causes me such turmoil when I am constantly in its midst and it produces such frustration?

It's ok- I'm still alive.

Yes, it's been a while. Whatever few readers I had have probably moved on out of boredom. I've been at camp where computer time is severly lacking and strangely becomes not so important. It also feels like we enter some sort of time warp where days are weeks and weeks are months. However, it is an incredible feeling to be exhausted for the sake of spending practically every waking moment (including those that should be sleeping moments) working toward the goal of leading teenagers to a relationship or the deepening of a relationship with Jesus Christ. There is nothing like it.

Now I am two days into a two week break where my purposes are cleaning my room (a daunting undertaking) and, hopefully, lining up a job or two for August when I will suddenly be unemployed. I am feeling bored, lonely, and couch potato-ish. It is a drastic change not to be running around constantly and surrounded by other people while following a rigid schedule made up by someone else. Even "free time" was stressful because we had to agree with 18 or so others as to what to do and where to go. Apparently, we enjoyed it though, because tonight we're getting together as though our two days apart is too much. I suppose that demonstrates our closeness and, in a good way, dependance on each other. The aformentioned tasks, high stress levels, and high emotions of both, tend to bond people together.

So there you have it. For those who have wondered if I dropped off the face of the earth, the answer is, "Not quite...but close." Without going into detail, I am loving it and wish everyone could experience this. When asked if I would do it all again I quickly responded with, "Oh yeah."

Hopefully, more to follow on this topic after the summer...

Moving On

I ended my job of almost three and a half years today. It sounds trite, but it was definitely "bittersweet." I am glad to be moving on to whatever it is that awaits. But, it is so difficult to leave behind unfinished work, that which you've poured yourself into, and those whom you love. I have learned so many things during my time there- lessons in the practical things and those life lessons that only experience can teach. I thought I wouldn't be sad, but as I was packing up my things, I was flooded with memories and reminded of just how much the place and the people meant to me. It's very hard to walk away from something like that- something that you made your own- and to walk into the unknown and the unfamiliar. Tonight, everything had significance... even the paper butterflies that wouldn't come down in one piece and the scriblings of different children. But the push-pin heart, I left. Though it saddened me to walk away from it, I couldn't take it with me, physically, and I decided it was time for someone else to enjoy it. I'll settle for leaving the mark.

Worship Service?

Why do we call it a Worship Service? I have often thought that we overuse the word "worship." It is as though we know we're supposed to be worshipping, so we feel that if we call the things we do "worship" then it somehow accomplishes the task- something to check off of our to do list. In our church we have to title everything, so we end up calling special music, "Worship in Song" (even when it's a secular song) and, my personal favorite, "Organ Worship" which conjures for me an image of people encircling the organ and bowing to it. Don't laugh- I think some would, given the opportunity.

Now, let's do the math: if we spend 15 to 20 minutes of a service doing something that could possibly involve worship, and the other 40 minutes listening to someone speak (and that person is not Jesus), is that really enough to title the time "Worship" and imply that it is the purpose for having the service? Or is it that our worship has been displaced to the object(s) of the 40 minute slot? This raises another important question: is it reasonable to think we can box in the "worship service" experience to an hour? Again, we are having church for the sake of having church just because we're supposed to. I am not saying that 2 hours is sufficient or that 5 minutes isn't, but it seems to me that we work so hard to get everything in and the most important things get the shaft.

We need to be careful that we aren't just throwing around the word "worship." I think God would say, "I'm still waiting for it..."

completely boring

When I started this blog, I thought I would have lots of interesting things to say...just about normal, everyday occurences. I have discovered that my life is not as interesting as I thought. A few days ago the most notable thing was watching a window washer rappel down a building. Yesterday it was the age old soap-in-the-fountain trick that caught my attention. These are not exactly noteworthy things. Perhaps I'm not really "seeing" what is around me. Maybe I am not looking hard enough. But then again, I am easily amused and I think that should make for good writing- but, no. Well, I guess that's all for now. I'm posting about how I don't have anything to post. Wow. This is the epitome of unexciting. Sorry.

Nothern Africa - Part 2

The first day took a lot of explanation. I will attempt to tell the rest without as much detail. If my mom is reading this, she's probably scoffing at the possibility. This is for you, Mom...

Every morning was spent at a preschool for underpriviledged kids. There are 100 preschoolers (who were on break at the time) in a facility that consists of two small classrooms, an office, two "squatty-potty" bathrooms, and another room that looks like it's for those who aren't feeling well. They also have a small yard which was trashy and uninteresting. We called our main mission there "Landscaper's Challenge" (again, reality TV makes its mark on our lives). We were to build them a playground...and we did. A wall that framed half of the yard was made into a mural of shapes, fish, hands, and other colorful things. Gravel and sand was brought in as well as two sets of swings, a rope swing in a tree, and a slide. The inside walls were adorned with painted sheep and a shepherd who bore a striking resemblance to Aladdin. On the walls in front were painted circus scenes with Mickey and Donald on either side of the entrance. It was a fun project. We were joined by various older children as the week went on. Though there was a language barrier, we enjoyed spending time with and loving them in the short time we had there.

We had a group of our teachers that met with English and preschool teachers to share ideas and give helpful information. I was not a part of this group, but feel it is worth a mention because they made connections that will allow those who remain to form relationships. We all had the opportunity to enjoy a meal with the English teachers. It was a neat experience to be able to speak with them personally, in English, about culture and life in general.

The whole group got the chance to go to a boys orphanage and teach ESL. Our guys even spent an afternoon playing basketball with them. I wish I could have seen that, but the girls were forced to go shopping instead. Those little guys were so cute and eager. They wanted to learn because they wanted to please us. It was so fun to interact with them and, yet, sad because they have nothing. It was a "reality moment" because these boys are content and even happy, though they have no family and only their basic needs met. I tried not to think of them as the adult, arrogant, "womanizing" males I had seen and at the same time, I tried to think of those adults when they were young and innocent like the orphan boys.

Another thing that only a few of us got to do was to go to a baby orphanage. I have never seen so many little babies in one place in my whole life. It was amazing. The good thing was that they were all well fed and well dressed. The sad thing was that they had been abandoned to live in a small space with those who, despite their best efforts, couldn't give attention to each. We arrived at feeding time and it was quite an operation. In between babies I would walk around and just talk to them and touch them, quieting those who were crying. I thought of babies in the U.S. who have rooms full of toys and who have a mother, father, grandparents, siblings and countless friends ogling over them. I prayed that they would be adopted by Christian parents, and then discovered that they are only able to be adopted by Muslims. I could go on and on about that experience and though it was sad, I could do that everyday.

Well, Mom, how did I do on detail? I really did leave out a lot. Maybe at a later date I will expound on some of the little things that were so meaningful. I am a little unsure as to what I can say and what I can't, so that has inhibited me somewhat. In any case, it was an experience that I will remember forever and yet, I am sad that in just a few weeks, the little conversations and other little nuggets of significance have already started to gel together in my memory. I will continue to tell the stories to keep them fresh.

Northern Africa - Part 1

I had such great intentions with this blog and now it has been a month since I last posted. Anyway, I have intended (there's that word again) to write about my recent trip, so I will attempt to do that now.

I returned from northern Africa long enough ago that I have gotten back into the swing of things here, but not long enough for the henna on my feet to completely disappear. It was an amazing experience, and not one that can be easily put into words. But, I will tell you what we did and you can fill in the blanks with your own conclusions as to the impact it had on me.

The trip over there was miraculous in itself. We were delayed at GSP (Greenville/Spartanburg) and then after spending almost three hours on the plane at IAD (Washington) we were told that our flight was cancelled due to bad weather. It was bad in Washington but it was worse at JFK (New York) where nothing was getting in or out. What originally was supposed to involve a 6 hour layover in JFK became a rush to get there in time. After a lot of work by our leader, we were put on a flight to White Plains, NY. This was also delayed. There was a good bit of turbulence on that flight, but we had no idea how bad it was until we were getting off the plane into hard rain that was blowing in sideways. I don't know how that plane landed.

When we arrived in White Plains, we had just over two hours before our international flight was to leave out of JFK. But, surely it would be delayed, right? There were 5 cabs waiting for us. We were going to have to get our luggage as quickly as possible and then somehow get it into those cabs and over to JFK. This was to be a difficult feat because we each had two large bags besides our carry-ons since we were taking things to our friends in Africa. However, we didn't have to worry about the luggage transportion since the luggage parade began and ended with 6 pieces of luggage, none of which was ours. Why the people loading the plane didn't say, "You know...this is a full plane and there are only six pieces of luggage...isn't that strange?," I have no idea. Yes, our luggage was, as I had feared upon our departure, still in Washington. After some frustration on both sides with a lady who was trying to get us to fill out lost luggage forms, we eventually had to abandon ship and get to the impatiently waiting taxis. I and three others set out on what seemed like "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride." We were weaving in and out of traffic, going 15 or 20 miles over the speed limit, in the pouring rain. We left fourth and arrived at JFK in a close second, feeling much like we were playing "The Amazing Race." It was during this ride that we got the call that our plane was - strangely enough - on time.

Upon our arrival, the lady behind the counter was just telling the first part of our group that the flight was closed (it was then within an hour of departure). We tried to explain the situation and she told us that even if she could let us on, we would have to go without the rest of our group. It was then that we also learned that not only was the next flight two days away, but that our tickets were non-refundable anyway. There was nothing to do but wait for our leader to arrive. When he finally came, he too, tried to reason with the lady, but she said there was nothing she could do. We later learned that he told her how much we had each paid for these non-refundable tickets and, therefore, how much we would be losing. She held firm. As he rejoined our group, and we anxiously awaited what he would say, he simply said, "We're just going to sit here a minute."

As we sat, almost completely in silence, you could look around and see the looks of hope, disappointment, and prayer. After what seemed much longer than it likely was, the phone behind the counter rang. After a brief conversation with a mystery person, the lady came out from behind the counter saying, "Come with me NOW, they are holding the plane," as she took off. Without a word, we jumped up and raced behind her, clearing security through special lines opened just for us, and arriving at the gate in moments. They quickly checked us in, printed boarding passes, and ushered us on the plane after a brief delay caused by the confusion of 18 international passengers with no checked baggage. We later discovered that two of our group members had been stuck at the security point, and since we were never told a gate number, they had no idea where to go. Our leader was eventually forced on the plane before he knew if they would make it or not. Somehow, they did make it and a count confirmed that we were all present (once our leader realized he had repeatedly left himself out of the count!) We were even able to shuffle around so that everyone was seated by at least one other member of our group.
It was the beginning of an incredible adventure and a day that I won't easily forget.

More to follow...

Mindless Ritual

I am so sick. I'm tired, too, but sick expresses it better. The bible tells us to praise the Lord with everything we have. It tells us to shout, even! So why is it that the "best" and "wisest" among Christians protest anything other than solemnity and ritualistic practice? I am sick, I tell you! And why does it matter whether or not we wear robes, or cute little matching outfits, or sombreros? If Jesus were here, he would be appalled, but not so much about the world- we expect these things from them- no, He would be disgusted with the pious. He would say, "Stop it! This is meaningless ritual! This is not what's important! You are MISSING IT... and you are missing me."

How long will church members continue to quench the Holy Spirit? How long will we inhibit those who would come to Christ if they were shown His relevance to their modern lives? How long will we refuse to change our minds, refuse to try something new, refuse to sacrifice tradition for the sake of true worship?

Paul told the Corinthians that he resolved to know nothing but Christ and Him crucified. I claim to know nothing but that we must worship Him, and lead others to do the same. It was that for which we were created and His glorification is our purpose.

Sunset

Sometimes things occur to me that I know must have deep, relevant, spiritual truth hidden in them, but I don’t get very far past that acknowledgement. For example, I was recently driving west at about 5:30 pm and noticed that it was just the exact time of day for the inhabitants of my side of the road to be wearing sun glasses and those on the opposite side to have their headlights on. This is a strange phenomenon which I have never noticed before, and though it seemed significant to me, I haven’t fully come to understand why. If I can discover the meaning that is just beyond my grasp, it might be a useful analogy for a lesson one day. The best that I have so far is that for those of us in the Light, it is difficult to understand those who look for light elsewhere. If they would just turn around, they would see that it, or He, is there. The other truth involves the co-existence of two very different views of the world. Any thoughts out there?

Intro

Well, I got sucked into blog world. More to follow when I have time.