Last night I had the luxury of spending two and a half hours in my first poetry class for the semester. I'd taken poetry once before, back in college, and loved it. I love how it makes me think about the most simple things-a paperclip, a shadow, an empty room, it a new way, or at least in a way searching for originality. I love how so much meaning is compressed into the fewest words. I love how even the mention of poetry makes me pause before I pour my babbling thoughts onto a page.
When did poetry get such a bad reputation? I agree that monotonous sonnets detailing lost love, or desiring love, or cheesy relationships can get old. But have you ever read a good poem about a feeling, a relationship, an inspiration? Have you ever let it sink into you?
I'm a photographer, and some days I see the world only through a little rectangular box. Some may see it as limiting, but I long for the simplicity and elimination that little rectangle provides. It challenges my brain and eyes to decide what's important and what's not. The key is not to show only the important-but to include enough of the unimportant with the important, therefore making the unimportant essential.
This so closely resembles junior high. All the kids classified as "medium, average," swarming around the elite essential in hopes to fit into the tiny box society demands of you. Little do they know that their seemingly unimportant, average presence is the very thing that makes the elite, the popular, the cool kids, what they are. I wish my friends and I had realized this back then.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
I know God is sovereign and that He loves us. I don't doubt this. But sometimes I wonder why we have to be so unsovereign, so unloving. Why do we have to live in a world filled with billions of people as entirely lost as we are?
Today's been a tough day. I love where I am, and I love the people I'm surrounded by. I usually love what I do-well, I love the potential for what is happening around me. My day in day out activities are less then a passion for me. But I cling to the belief that my small, medial tasks must be contributing to the larger picture. I hope that somehow, somewhere, someone is being benefited....even though it definitely doesn't feel like it at all sometimes.
There's a song called "hosanna" that has become my prayer for about a year now. Part of it asks God to "break my heart for what break's yours, everything I am for your kingdom's cause". Lately I've gotten stuck in the daily tasks, the check lists, the mounding emails, and the constant pressure to not mess up. With all this happening around me, I've lost sight of what brought me here in the first place-a broken heart for what breaks God's heart.
It's been over a year since I stepped off the plane and into Uganda, and sometimes I forget what it's like. But when I pause and reflect, when I look through my photos, when I remember their names, their stories, see their eyes, I break all over again. I'm not so much afraid of the breaking-but of the days when I don't.
I have a friend, an artist, who is incredibly talented. He's one of the most human and yet solid men I've met and I hold great respect for him. I used to paint a lot, but I haven't picked up a brush for almost a year, until one day he challenged me. I was talking about how much I loved painting, and he counted me with the question, If I love it so much-why don't I do it?
Since then, I've begun again. Pushing through the fear of failure, the lack of creativity, the frustrations, and the busyness of life to carve out time to think, pray, stop thinking sometimes, and just paint.
It was just a few nights ago, looking through photos of faces of the people I met in Uganda, that I was rebroken. I sat on the floor, alone, gazing into the eyes of a little girl about three years old named Sandy who lives in an IDP camp outside of Kitgum, and was overwhelmed by something that I still cannot put to words. It's not that I think I can save her, and it's not that I have the mind and power and skills to charge in and fix everything in her life and the complex circumstances leading up to it-it was simply that I felt so deeply and truly how much God loves her. God absolutely cherishes this little girl in the desert of Uganda. And not only her-but all the people in the war-torn country in which she lives, and broader-the countries surrounding hers, and the continents, and so broadly, the world.
So why do we suffer? Why are we broken? Why do we feel nothing at all sometimes? And even more so, why after so long of numbness, do we feel so deeply only for that thing you began to trust be ripped away again? What 's the point of it all?
I believe God has a purpose and he disciplines and teaches those who he loves. Praise Him for that...but some days it just hurts so much. Some days it doesn't feel worth it. Some days I'd rather feel nothing at all.
There's an old saying that says, "it's better to have loved and lost, then to never love at all."
I don't know if I believe that.
Maybe some day I will.
Today is not that day.
Today's been a tough day. I love where I am, and I love the people I'm surrounded by. I usually love what I do-well, I love the potential for what is happening around me. My day in day out activities are less then a passion for me. But I cling to the belief that my small, medial tasks must be contributing to the larger picture. I hope that somehow, somewhere, someone is being benefited....even though it definitely doesn't feel like it at all sometimes.
There's a song called "hosanna" that has become my prayer for about a year now. Part of it asks God to "break my heart for what break's yours, everything I am for your kingdom's cause". Lately I've gotten stuck in the daily tasks, the check lists, the mounding emails, and the constant pressure to not mess up. With all this happening around me, I've lost sight of what brought me here in the first place-a broken heart for what breaks God's heart.
It's been over a year since I stepped off the plane and into Uganda, and sometimes I forget what it's like. But when I pause and reflect, when I look through my photos, when I remember their names, their stories, see their eyes, I break all over again. I'm not so much afraid of the breaking-but of the days when I don't.
I have a friend, an artist, who is incredibly talented. He's one of the most human and yet solid men I've met and I hold great respect for him. I used to paint a lot, but I haven't picked up a brush for almost a year, until one day he challenged me. I was talking about how much I loved painting, and he counted me with the question, If I love it so much-why don't I do it?
Since then, I've begun again. Pushing through the fear of failure, the lack of creativity, the frustrations, and the busyness of life to carve out time to think, pray, stop thinking sometimes, and just paint.
It was just a few nights ago, looking through photos of faces of the people I met in Uganda, that I was rebroken. I sat on the floor, alone, gazing into the eyes of a little girl about three years old named Sandy who lives in an IDP camp outside of Kitgum, and was overwhelmed by something that I still cannot put to words. It's not that I think I can save her, and it's not that I have the mind and power and skills to charge in and fix everything in her life and the complex circumstances leading up to it-it was simply that I felt so deeply and truly how much God loves her. God absolutely cherishes this little girl in the desert of Uganda. And not only her-but all the people in the war-torn country in which she lives, and broader-the countries surrounding hers, and the continents, and so broadly, the world.
So why do we suffer? Why are we broken? Why do we feel nothing at all sometimes? And even more so, why after so long of numbness, do we feel so deeply only for that thing you began to trust be ripped away again? What 's the point of it all?
I believe God has a purpose and he disciplines and teaches those who he loves. Praise Him for that...but some days it just hurts so much. Some days it doesn't feel worth it. Some days I'd rather feel nothing at all.
There's an old saying that says, "it's better to have loved and lost, then to never love at all."
I don't know if I believe that.
Maybe some day I will.
Today is not that day.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Today
Today I am tired. Physically, I'm awake and fine, but have you ever had those days where your soul is tired? This is one of those days.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
on leaving:
i'd like to start out by saying that although i love writing, i'm an awful blogger.
i live in Bend, OR now. I work for a church called Antioch, and for a branch of World Relief called World Relief NEXT. I love my job, and i love the people i get to work with. most days i wake up and am overwhelmed with how blessed i am to be here. i'm working in a community of people who believe that no matter what your gifts, interests and passions are, they're valuable and can be used. I'm learning a lot, and have so much more to learn in all aspects of life.
1. Taking risks is good. Three of my biggest unknowns in life have turned out to be the best risks I've taken. First, was going to a college where I knew no one. 3.5 years later i graduated with the closest friends I'll ever find. Second, I went to Uganda, not knowing anyone and not even knowing where I was going exactly. One summer later, my love and interest in travel, missions, photography, and Africa was confirmed as a reality and not just a list of facts I'd like to be true. Third: After graduating a semester early from college, I packed my life into my car and drove across the West to move to a city where I, once again, knew no one for an internship with no guarantees. There seems to be a theme in life...I'm constantly moving away from everyone and everything I know, and yet I keep finding that those changes, although the hardest, are the richest and most satisfying.
Someday, I think this will probably have to stop if I'll ever take a full time job, want a family, and grow old with friends. But for now, I think there's plenty of time to settle down and into a place. Stranger still, the things that make the major changes in my life are relationships-relationships that I keep moving away from in hope for something new. I wonder if this is bad?
I'm reading this book called The Alchemist, by Paul Coelho. It's a little trippy in some philosophies, but it talks about how we are all designed to follow our dreams. The problem is that after a while, we begin to believe the lies that we can't accomplish our goals. So we settle and settle in. We get into a comfortable routine in life and stay there, preferring to dream about reaching our dreams rather then taking active steps towards them.
2. On leaving: I think that part of the reason I move, and desire to move so much is not a dissatisfaction with where I am, but the hope for something more. This is rooted in a deeper, more spiritual reality: this world is not our home, and this life is only a dim reflection of the life we're meant to live.
I recently was talking with a good friend of mine, someone who has seen me through a lot, and knows me sometimes too well. I told shared with him my most recent thoughts on life...
Lately, I've been missing Uganda so much that sometimes I feel more there then here. I want to be with my friends there, I want to laugh with them, here how their lives are, be with them on a day to day basis. I miss the music, the slower pace, the colors, the way they speak their thoughts, I miss the food, the language, and the openness. Words cannot describe it, and I am frustrated by how I am falling short in communicating this.
The other night, I was thinking about all of these things and wondering what to do with this consistent desire to go back, so much so I couldn't sleep. I got thinking about how why I want to go back. I knew as I was leaving, that I couldn't go back unless it was God's will that I go back, not just my own desires. I want to offer them something, to be helpful. There are many ways to have an impact on the world: get involved in politics, fund raise, promote awareness, give financially--all these things can be done without knowing a single person's name or story. And for some, this is where they are gifted and called. But not me, I want to be with people, I want to look them in the eye, I want to know their names and their stories. Two options come to mind for this: the medical field, and counseling. I am interested in the medical field, it is a wonderful and needed skill to have. The aid that is given through clinics in various countries is invaluable. But I think I am more gifted in the relational area of life, I want to listen, to understand, to show that their stories matter and that their lives have purpose, every single one of them. Sometimes the best thing someone can offer is a listening ear. This is what I learned from my time in Uganda. Listening is a gift that is rarely talked about, but almost always appreciated.
I'm looking into going back to school to get a degree in cross cultural counseling. It would take years probably-I'd only take one or two classes at a time, and continue to work and get practical experience here. But, why not work towards a degree-more importantly-work towards gaining knowledge and tools to positively guide and help others? Maybe this is crazy, and maybe it is not the right thing to do, but why not consider the possibility? why not research, ask questions, put your self, and your heart, out there a little? what do i have to loose? failure. yes, I could fail. So I fail.
It's one thing to dream, anyone can dream if they free themselves. It's another to take a step.
i live in Bend, OR now. I work for a church called Antioch, and for a branch of World Relief called World Relief NEXT. I love my job, and i love the people i get to work with. most days i wake up and am overwhelmed with how blessed i am to be here. i'm working in a community of people who believe that no matter what your gifts, interests and passions are, they're valuable and can be used. I'm learning a lot, and have so much more to learn in all aspects of life.
1. Taking risks is good. Three of my biggest unknowns in life have turned out to be the best risks I've taken. First, was going to a college where I knew no one. 3.5 years later i graduated with the closest friends I'll ever find. Second, I went to Uganda, not knowing anyone and not even knowing where I was going exactly. One summer later, my love and interest in travel, missions, photography, and Africa was confirmed as a reality and not just a list of facts I'd like to be true. Third: After graduating a semester early from college, I packed my life into my car and drove across the West to move to a city where I, once again, knew no one for an internship with no guarantees. There seems to be a theme in life...I'm constantly moving away from everyone and everything I know, and yet I keep finding that those changes, although the hardest, are the richest and most satisfying.
Someday, I think this will probably have to stop if I'll ever take a full time job, want a family, and grow old with friends. But for now, I think there's plenty of time to settle down and into a place. Stranger still, the things that make the major changes in my life are relationships-relationships that I keep moving away from in hope for something new. I wonder if this is bad?
I'm reading this book called The Alchemist, by Paul Coelho. It's a little trippy in some philosophies, but it talks about how we are all designed to follow our dreams. The problem is that after a while, we begin to believe the lies that we can't accomplish our goals. So we settle and settle in. We get into a comfortable routine in life and stay there, preferring to dream about reaching our dreams rather then taking active steps towards them.
2. On leaving: I think that part of the reason I move, and desire to move so much is not a dissatisfaction with where I am, but the hope for something more. This is rooted in a deeper, more spiritual reality: this world is not our home, and this life is only a dim reflection of the life we're meant to live.
I recently was talking with a good friend of mine, someone who has seen me through a lot, and knows me sometimes too well. I told shared with him my most recent thoughts on life...
Lately, I've been missing Uganda so much that sometimes I feel more there then here. I want to be with my friends there, I want to laugh with them, here how their lives are, be with them on a day to day basis. I miss the music, the slower pace, the colors, the way they speak their thoughts, I miss the food, the language, and the openness. Words cannot describe it, and I am frustrated by how I am falling short in communicating this.
The other night, I was thinking about all of these things and wondering what to do with this consistent desire to go back, so much so I couldn't sleep. I got thinking about how why I want to go back. I knew as I was leaving, that I couldn't go back unless it was God's will that I go back, not just my own desires. I want to offer them something, to be helpful. There are many ways to have an impact on the world: get involved in politics, fund raise, promote awareness, give financially--all these things can be done without knowing a single person's name or story. And for some, this is where they are gifted and called. But not me, I want to be with people, I want to look them in the eye, I want to know their names and their stories. Two options come to mind for this: the medical field, and counseling. I am interested in the medical field, it is a wonderful and needed skill to have. The aid that is given through clinics in various countries is invaluable. But I think I am more gifted in the relational area of life, I want to listen, to understand, to show that their stories matter and that their lives have purpose, every single one of them. Sometimes the best thing someone can offer is a listening ear. This is what I learned from my time in Uganda. Listening is a gift that is rarely talked about, but almost always appreciated.
I'm looking into going back to school to get a degree in cross cultural counseling. It would take years probably-I'd only take one or two classes at a time, and continue to work and get practical experience here. But, why not work towards a degree-more importantly-work towards gaining knowledge and tools to positively guide and help others? Maybe this is crazy, and maybe it is not the right thing to do, but why not consider the possibility? why not research, ask questions, put your self, and your heart, out there a little? what do i have to loose? failure. yes, I could fail. So I fail.
It's one thing to dream, anyone can dream if they free themselves. It's another to take a step.
Friday, March 26, 2010
how then shall we live
about a week and a half ago i moved to bend oregon to intern with a church called antioch for one year. my ministry focus is one "justice", which is a broad, overly used term, specifically these days.
i have the privilege of working with world relief next, a branch of world relief. specifically, focused on the democratic republic of congo. one part of the work i'm doing is to put together a learning group packet or book of information about the DRC. i'm working on the section about the history, facts, and background currently. today i researched the three main rebel groups affecting DR Congo. after hours of reading, cross referencing, and sifting through information, statistics, and stories, i am speechless about what has happened there, and what is happening. after spending two and a half months in uganda, i have an idea of what all this looks like. i've been to some IDP camps, sat with the people there and listened to their stories. but the question that i come back to is, "now what?" How then shall i live? how will this knowledge affect my actions?
the family that i am staying with is a beautiful family. they're a young couple with three intelligent and lovely children. the church that i am working for is their church as well. antioch is becoming more and more involved with DRC, and therefore it's members are too. tonight John, my host's name, brought up a very important and hard question.
first, he explained that for the people who have never been to the places that we are talking about, and who have never experienced the reality of the conflict and seen its effects, it is a challenge to really be connected and to stay connected. not everyone is called to actually go to africa, or thailand, or a country or region where all these atrocities happen. his question was this: What are we supposed to do now?
What good is awareness without action? Really? i think it is almost worse to be informed and do nothing then to not know about a situation and live unaffected. neither one of these options are good. And now that people are becoming aware of what has and is happening, what next? It's one thing to support monetarily, and that is so needed, but what can tangibly be done on a daily basis to make a difference?
we need to develop and mature our reaction to the issues happening today. We need to be thinking about the next step. For so long, we've been focused on raising awareness and educating people--which is so very important. But we also need to develop and grow in order to help people step from aware to active. What are tangible, real ways to make a positive impact on the world today?
So now that we know, who then shall we live?
i have the privilege of working with world relief next, a branch of world relief. specifically, focused on the democratic republic of congo. one part of the work i'm doing is to put together a learning group packet or book of information about the DRC. i'm working on the section about the history, facts, and background currently. today i researched the three main rebel groups affecting DR Congo. after hours of reading, cross referencing, and sifting through information, statistics, and stories, i am speechless about what has happened there, and what is happening. after spending two and a half months in uganda, i have an idea of what all this looks like. i've been to some IDP camps, sat with the people there and listened to their stories. but the question that i come back to is, "now what?" How then shall i live? how will this knowledge affect my actions?
the family that i am staying with is a beautiful family. they're a young couple with three intelligent and lovely children. the church that i am working for is their church as well. antioch is becoming more and more involved with DRC, and therefore it's members are too. tonight John, my host's name, brought up a very important and hard question.
first, he explained that for the people who have never been to the places that we are talking about, and who have never experienced the reality of the conflict and seen its effects, it is a challenge to really be connected and to stay connected. not everyone is called to actually go to africa, or thailand, or a country or region where all these atrocities happen. his question was this: What are we supposed to do now?
What good is awareness without action? Really? i think it is almost worse to be informed and do nothing then to not know about a situation and live unaffected. neither one of these options are good. And now that people are becoming aware of what has and is happening, what next? It's one thing to support monetarily, and that is so needed, but what can tangibly be done on a daily basis to make a difference?
we need to develop and mature our reaction to the issues happening today. We need to be thinking about the next step. For so long, we've been focused on raising awareness and educating people--which is so very important. But we also need to develop and grow in order to help people step from aware to active. What are tangible, real ways to make a positive impact on the world today?
So now that we know, who then shall we live?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
freedom feels like Home
I'm moving to Oregon in 20 days. It's hard to believe that in three weeks I'll be in a place that I've never been, where I know no one except two people that I hung out at a coffee shop with for four hours one day. I don't have a solid, black and white job, I don't even know where I'll be staying yet. Is this logical? No, not really. But neither is majoring in art...If I was looking for the straight, well-traveled road, I wouldn't have made a lot of the choices that have lead me here, but if I was looking for that road, I just wouldn't be me.
I'm nervous. Unlike most people, I get really cold when I'm nervous, right now I'm shivering. When asked what I was nervous about, I said nothing in particular, just all the newness and unknown. I think that's reasonable.
Tonight, after mapping out my 30 hour drive and booking a flight for my sister to fly home on (she's driving out with me) I began to feel that scared, excited, about-to-jump-out-of-an-airplane feeling. I walked down the steps from my childhood room to eat dinner with my parents, dairy farmers who work harder then anyone I've ever met, but live lives that don't really change much. My mom had gone to lunch with my great aunt and a few other relatives. My great aunt, who is a bit, crazy?, was saying that she thought it was good that I had something lined up less then a month after graduation. I took hope in this, smiling and feeling a bit more confident and excited, despite the butterflies in my stomach. Then my step-dad reminded me, again, that I don't have a full time job lined up, that what I'll be doing anyone could do, and it really isn't much to talk of as far as successful jobs after school. We've been through this before, a hundred times. He sees the world in black and white, maybe some primary colors, dollar signs, and insurance benefits. I see it more in indigo, mahogany, and sienna, I see life as more then money, a white picket fence, and a retirement plan. These things are important and I know God calls us to be informed, responsible, and good stewards of what we've been given. But I think life is more about experience then bank accounts, it's about loving others and letting them love you back, it's about taking some risks to build up to what you love doing. It's about falling in love with God, and letting him lead us to places of uncertainty for the sole reason that we would learn to trust him fully and recklessly abandon the pursuits of this world for the pursuit of Him-a God who is more stable and more loving then anything we could plan or imagine.
I end up feeling disheartened and alone after those kinds of conversations. Maybe if I wasn't aware of the responsibilities that go along with life, I would need continual reminders, but that's not the case. The one good thing that comes from the rain storm of doubts, questions, and discouraging remarks, is that I remember why I'm taking this risk. I need to get out. I need to have space to make some mistakes, and learn as I go. I need a community-a body of believers-to be encouraged by, and to contribute to. I need to use my gifts for God's glory, and trust that it's nothing that I can do, but it's Christ working in me, and using me. I am simply a tool in the hands of God. I need to follow him to a place that I do not know, in order to trust him for my every need.
So, thank you, I guess, for reminding me of all these things. I wish that someday I could be reminded from you through an uplifting and encouraging word, rather then doubts and discouragement, but even these can be used for good.
I've always said that my friends are my family. I've been blessed beyond measure with friends better then I could have hoped for, or dreamed up on my own. It's true that a friend sticks closer than a brother.
I don't know what will happen, there's so much I don't know, and there are no guarantees. A lot of hard work, faith, and more hard work are ahead, but it's a step closer to freedom. And freedom feels like home.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Fine
There's a verse in the Bible that talks about delighting ourselves in the Lord and him giving the desires of our hearts. I like this verse, but honestly, it also makes me frustrated. I spent a few months in Uganda in the summer of 2009. I cannot begin today to express all that I learned, saw, or felt, except to say that it was a beautiful experience. While there, I met a missionary from the Kingdom of Tonga. The first time I saw him I had no idea what country he was from, his ethnic background, or what he was doing in Africa. He had a huge grin and big brown eyes that were filled with laughter. His name was Fine (fin-ee) and he was part of Youth With A Mission. He'd been living in Uganda for three years and working with a small village helping to build a bakery. Initially, they thought he would give them the money to build the bakery, so he had to explain to them that he had no money and no funds coming in either. Instead, he became just like them-working in the gardens, living in the village; he ate with them and went hungry with them. All the while he taught them from the Bible. In traditional Ugandan culture, women obey simply their husbands, they care for the children, draw water, cook, work in the gardens, clean, etc. In a lot of cases, men have abandoned their families and left the women to care for all the children with no income of their own. Fine's heart is for families. He has taken Jesus literally when he says to care for widows and orphans and defend the poor and helpless.
One Sunday, Fine invited me to come to his church. As I walked the half mile down the red dusty road in search of the little church tucked in the banana trees, I was a bit nervous. By then I was used to being the only white person, but I had never gone to church in Uganda alone before. Thankfully, the sound of drums and children lead me easily to the church. Women and babies were under the shade of a clump of trees and children chased each other around outside. All of the men were inside. "Fine?" I asked a woman who shyly greeted me. "Yes" she replied and pointed inside, and then led me to a bench by all the women. Apparently there was a "no girls allowed" rule before the service, or something was going on. After a few moments, Fine excitedly motioned everyone inside and we all crowded onto little wooden benches. Children stared openly at the mzungu who came to join their service, and women shyly, but warmly greeted me.
As was tradition, any guests were asked to stand up and introduce themselves. Well, no escaping it, I was the only white person of at least seventy. I stood and glanced at Fine, who grinned back. In my best Ugandan accent I introduced myself and expressed my joy to be with them. I sat back down and the music began. Today was men and husband Sunday. In both Uganda and Tonga, dancing is an enormous part of their culture. Fine got the entire congregation involved by asking the men and women from their respective tribes to demonstrate their traditional dances. Women sang and clapped while shaking their hips like I have never seen in any church before, then men also showed off their moves, while the children played the drums on their benches. Everything was a blend colors and laughter and shouting and freedom. Then Fine calmed the congregation down, women sat down again while the men to take their places. He explained that he had arranged a special presentation for that Sunday. In his culture, the Tongans dance as celebration, but also as warriors.
Over the past three years, Fine has served the people he ministers to. He is learning their language and their culture because he realizes that it's necessary to love someone first, and out of that love will come change for the better. He now is a co-pastor at a church where each month the sermons rotate around women and wives, children, men and husbands, and the family. Men are learning to love and serve their wives, wives are learning to respect and support their husbands, and children are learning to obey and learn in a safe, nurturing environment.
One Sunday, Fine invited me to come to his church. As I walked the half mile down the red dusty road in search of the little church tucked in the banana trees, I was a bit nervous. By then I was used to being the only white person, but I had never gone to church in Uganda alone before. Thankfully, the sound of drums and children lead me easily to the church. Women and babies were under the shade of a clump of trees and children chased each other around outside. All of the men were inside. "Fine?" I asked a woman who shyly greeted me. "Yes" she replied and pointed inside, and then led me to a bench by all the women. Apparently there was a "no girls allowed" rule before the service, or something was going on. After a few moments, Fine excitedly motioned everyone inside and we all crowded onto little wooden benches. Children stared openly at the mzungu who came to join their service, and women shyly, but warmly greeted me.
As was tradition, any guests were asked to stand up and introduce themselves. Well, no escaping it, I was the only white person of at least seventy. I stood and glanced at Fine, who grinned back. In my best Ugandan accent I introduced myself and expressed my joy to be with them. I sat back down and the music began. Today was men and husband Sunday. In both Uganda and Tonga, dancing is an enormous part of their culture. Fine got the entire congregation involved by asking the men and women from their respective tribes to demonstrate their traditional dances. Women sang and clapped while shaking their hips like I have never seen in any church before, then men also showed off their moves, while the children played the drums on their benches. Everything was a blend colors and laughter and shouting and freedom. Then Fine calmed the congregation down, women sat down again while the men to take their places. He explained that he had arranged a special presentation for that Sunday. In his culture, the Tongans dance as celebration, but also as warriors.
Over the past three years, Fine has served the people he ministers to. He is learning their language and their culture because he realizes that it's necessary to love someone first, and out of that love will come change for the better. He now is a co-pastor at a church where each month the sermons rotate around women and wives, children, men and husbands, and the family. Men are learning to love and serve their wives, wives are learning to respect and support their husbands, and children are learning to obey and learn in a safe, nurturing environment.
What a beautiful picture. All because one man decided to give up his comfort, and go where God said. Fine told me he was glad that he did not know where God was leading him, or what would happen. He said if he had known ahead of time that he would go hungry some days or fight off malaria eight times and counting, he would have turned back long ago. He's said he was so thankful that God did not reveal all the answers to him when he asked.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Things I Don't Know
There's a lot of things I don't know.
I don't know the first thing about rugby, or scrapbooking, or how to speak french, or how to make french bread. And because there are so many other things I don't know, and I'm hesitant to even write this because it puts me at risk of revealing all these things and sounding dumb. That being said, I humbly continue. There's an old saying that the older you get, the more you realize how much know you don't know.
Have you ever known someone who truly loves what they do? My brother-in-law was a finance major in college. He's the right combination of determination and logic. He now works for a company doing something with inventory and planning and money. He could go on and on about economics and statistics, and he starts talking with his hands and his knee starts bouncing, and his red hair seems redder (ok, not really, but you get the idea.) He just loves that stuff.
I don't know the first thing about rugby, or scrapbooking, or how to speak french, or how to make french bread. And because there are so many other things I don't know, and I'm hesitant to even write this because it puts me at risk of revealing all these things and sounding dumb. That being said, I humbly continue. There's an old saying that the older you get, the more you realize how much know you don't know.
Have you ever known someone who truly loves what they do? My brother-in-law was a finance major in college. He's the right combination of determination and logic. He now works for a company doing something with inventory and planning and money. He could go on and on about economics and statistics, and he starts talking with his hands and his knee starts bouncing, and his red hair seems redder (ok, not really, but you get the idea.) He just loves that stuff.
My sister works in a hospital as a physician's assistant. To relax, she turns on episodes of House and tries to diagnose the patients before the doctors on the show do.
Then there's Jess, she was a marketing major. Jess silenced my assumptions of what a person into marketing should be like. She has a quiet disposition, is a very good listener, and a bit of southern charm which is rare for these parts. She's generous and caring with a talent for asking the right questions. But get her talking about marketing surveys, supply and demand, advertising--anything marketing, and her eyes light up. Her southern accent gets stronger too, and that's when I know she's really excited.
Some people just know what they want and it oozes from them. I admire those kinds of people.
My friend Fine, a Tongan that I met while in Uganda, told me to read Psalm 37. When I returned to the United States, I heard a speaker talking about God giving us the desires of our hearts. Then my friend Kristin, mentioned something about the desires of our hearts and how God wants to give them to us. It seemed everywhere I went, people knew the desires of their hearts, was I the only one who didn't? I knew, at the core of me that I wanted God. I wanted to be where he wanted me, but doesn't that have to get specific at some point?
Some people just know what they want and it oozes from them. I admire those kinds of people.
My friend Fine, a Tongan that I met while in Uganda, told me to read Psalm 37. When I returned to the United States, I heard a speaker talking about God giving us the desires of our hearts. Then my friend Kristin, mentioned something about the desires of our hearts and how God wants to give them to us. It seemed everywhere I went, people knew the desires of their hearts, was I the only one who didn't? I knew, at the core of me that I wanted God. I wanted to be where he wanted me, but doesn't that have to get specific at some point?
I know what I get excited about. I get excited about music. I could talk on and on about music, what I like, what I don't, a great lead guitar line, lyrics, the strings that make the song, anything. I'm no great musician myself, but I still love music. In C.S. Lewis's series, the Chronicles of Narnia, there's a part in the Magician's Nephew where Aslan is creating Narnia. The thing I love is that he uses song.
The Bible talks about praising God with the harp and tambourine. I love this imagery, because the harp is a very complicated instrument and takes years to master, while the tambourine is one of the simplest, and anyone can play it. But when it comes down to it, all of them matters to God. Whether you fall into the "harp" category, or the "tambourine" category, God wants our songs.
I also get excited about photography. Not all photography, I'll be honest. I love portraiture. Not necessarily the studio kind, but portraits of people naturally, honestly, with no act to hide behind. I could also look at documentary photography all day. Photography has a way of communicating something that words, or even film cannot. It freezes a moment in time and invites a viewer to stare as long as they want. Feeling each detail and color and emotion.
I'm also a dreamer, I love to daydream about where I'll be and what I'll be doing. When I was younger, I used to think up all the places I'd travel to, the apartment that I would get overlooking a city street. I was going to have a dog named Boy and we'd go running everyday before I went to work. At night I'd come home and spend the evening painting. Or I'd think about traveling to a distant country, meeting the people there and listening to their stories and learning about their lives. I could go on and on, but I'll stop for now.
But the desire of my heart? I want to know God, I want to be where He wants me. I want others to know God and feel the immeasurable love that he has for them.
What does that look like specifically? I don't really know. Maybe for today it just means writing this out. And then loving the people right next to me, the ones God put around for this season.
I'm learning that I need to live where I am, and not always be dreaming of the next thing, because I'll miss out on the right now.
desires of my heart
desires of my heart
Sunday, January 17, 2010
The Plaid Shirt Epidemic
In ten days I will no longer be part of my university. I will transition as gracefully as a five legged giraffe learning to walk, from a student into an alum. In some ways that is incredible and freeing, in others, terrifying. A few of my friends who have "gone on ahead of me" have shared their wisdom in this area-mainly nostalgic words telling me to soak it up while it lasts because the real world is not that great. But apart from those few friends and a 30 minute seminar from my college on transitions in life, that's about all I've heard on this topic. It amazes me how many books and speakers talk about being in college, choosing a major, getting involved, and then about finding the right career. But somewhere in the middle the bottom seems to have dropped out of this inbetween phase. Maybe i'm the only one who finds graduation a weird time, but i suspect i'm not.
I'm graduating at the best time: in the middle of winter, a semester early, and in this lovely economy. Fantastic right? I don't mean to be a pessimist, but as i look out on this foggy, dreary day with the reality that in ten days I will be packing up my life into my car, again, this time with a boatload of loans and a bachelor's degree in art, I can't help but wonder if the best days truly are behind me? I feel a bit deceived and disillusioned. Growing up, I was told, like so many of us, that we can do whatever we want, be whoever we want, dream big. So I did, and I still do. I'm not afraid of hard work and taking some risks, but as one of my college profs put it, at some point reality does hit, along with bills, alarm clocks, loneliness, and second guessing. I guess this is the where the you know what is hitting my fan. I don't know what will come of it, but I feel that this point of life is worth remembering, worth sorting through, and worth sharing, if not to benefit anyone else, for my own sake.
In my college town, a fine print spec on the map in the middle of Indiana, there has been an epidemic. Plaid Shirts. I must admit, even as I write this, i'm wearing one. All this excites me, while making me kind of upset. (You see, a few years ago, when plaid was NOT in, I used to spend time searching for flannel plaid shirts at Fleet Farm and Goodwill because I liked how they looked and no one else was wearing them. Unfortunately I could not find one near my size) Now they're everywhere! Plaid Flannel button down shirts. I was in a Salvation Army the other day and saw two young women shooting threatening glares over top a shirt rack at each other as they raced through the rows of button downs. All shirts were not created equal. I suppose it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world figured out what a gem they truly are. Now everyone wants them. Unique and broken in, with no other shirt quite like it. They're comfortable, not too hot, not too cold, not too loose, not too tight, and earthy, very Save the Earth, Go Green, you know? And yet, at the end of the day, they are still very much the same standard flannel, plaid shirt.
So what's the point? My point is this:We all want to be plaid. We all want to be different, to be unique, to be that unmatched plaid shirt. We all like to think that we are a bit set apart and our own person. BUT, at the same time, we all want to fit in and to be accepted. Picture a crowd of brown and green flannel shirts, all cool and "in", a sea of brown and greenness. But then, something catches your eye. Red. Red and Yellow flannel. Amazing, it's still plaid and it's still flannel, but it's different, it stands out, it's unique.
For New Year's Eve my parents told me this story about a game they played. It was all answering questions, for example, "What do you need most in life? Wealth, Family, True Love, Friends, or Health?" I've thought about this question for a while, and depending on the day, I've come up with different answers. But after pondering this for quite some time, I've come up with something not in the answer key: Hope. I need hope for the future, I need to believe that the best days have not already passed, and that there's a reason to go on living and loving and trying and caring. My life is not bad at all, I am a very blessed person, but even on my best days, I realize that it's the hope that tomorrow or the next day will better that keeps me moving. I once read a testimony from a person who survived the concentration camps from WWII. When asked how he survived when so many others did not, he replied that he kept something that they had all lost: the hope of being saved.
The hope of being saved. The hope that for some reason there's something more to look forward to, that you and I are, in someone's eyes worth saving and lifting up, something special and unique. The hope that we are desirable--even chosen.
"But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar treasure for his own pssession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkenss into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy." -1 Peter 2:9-10
10 days and I loose all the labels, easy answers, and identities that for years I have leaned on. 10 days until I move away from my closest friends, my academic pursuits, my community, and the closest thing I have to call home. I don't know how people get through life without the hope that God has a plan and a future for them. I know this to be true, and I still become anxious and worry. 10 days till my safety nets are cut. But maybe it's only 10 days until I truly learn how to trust.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you," declares the LORD." -Jeremiah 29:11-13
I'm graduating at the best time: in the middle of winter, a semester early, and in this lovely economy. Fantastic right? I don't mean to be a pessimist, but as i look out on this foggy, dreary day with the reality that in ten days I will be packing up my life into my car, again, this time with a boatload of loans and a bachelor's degree in art, I can't help but wonder if the best days truly are behind me? I feel a bit deceived and disillusioned. Growing up, I was told, like so many of us, that we can do whatever we want, be whoever we want, dream big. So I did, and I still do. I'm not afraid of hard work and taking some risks, but as one of my college profs put it, at some point reality does hit, along with bills, alarm clocks, loneliness, and second guessing. I guess this is the where the you know what is hitting my fan. I don't know what will come of it, but I feel that this point of life is worth remembering, worth sorting through, and worth sharing, if not to benefit anyone else, for my own sake.
In my college town, a fine print spec on the map in the middle of Indiana, there has been an epidemic. Plaid Shirts. I must admit, even as I write this, i'm wearing one. All this excites me, while making me kind of upset. (You see, a few years ago, when plaid was NOT in, I used to spend time searching for flannel plaid shirts at Fleet Farm and Goodwill because I liked how they looked and no one else was wearing them. Unfortunately I could not find one near my size) Now they're everywhere! Plaid Flannel button down shirts. I was in a Salvation Army the other day and saw two young women shooting threatening glares over top a shirt rack at each other as they raced through the rows of button downs. All shirts were not created equal. I suppose it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world figured out what a gem they truly are. Now everyone wants them. Unique and broken in, with no other shirt quite like it. They're comfortable, not too hot, not too cold, not too loose, not too tight, and earthy, very Save the Earth, Go Green, you know? And yet, at the end of the day, they are still very much the same standard flannel, plaid shirt.
So what's the point? My point is this:We all want to be plaid. We all want to be different, to be unique, to be that unmatched plaid shirt. We all like to think that we are a bit set apart and our own person. BUT, at the same time, we all want to fit in and to be accepted. Picture a crowd of brown and green flannel shirts, all cool and "in", a sea of brown and greenness. But then, something catches your eye. Red. Red and Yellow flannel. Amazing, it's still plaid and it's still flannel, but it's different, it stands out, it's unique.
For New Year's Eve my parents told me this story about a game they played. It was all answering questions, for example, "What do you need most in life? Wealth, Family, True Love, Friends, or Health?" I've thought about this question for a while, and depending on the day, I've come up with different answers. But after pondering this for quite some time, I've come up with something not in the answer key: Hope. I need hope for the future, I need to believe that the best days have not already passed, and that there's a reason to go on living and loving and trying and caring. My life is not bad at all, I am a very blessed person, but even on my best days, I realize that it's the hope that tomorrow or the next day will better that keeps me moving. I once read a testimony from a person who survived the concentration camps from WWII. When asked how he survived when so many others did not, he replied that he kept something that they had all lost: the hope of being saved.
The hope of being saved. The hope that for some reason there's something more to look forward to, that you and I are, in someone's eyes worth saving and lifting up, something special and unique. The hope that we are desirable--even chosen.
"But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar treasure for his own pssession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkenss into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy." -1 Peter 2:9-10
10 days and I loose all the labels, easy answers, and identities that for years I have leaned on. 10 days until I move away from my closest friends, my academic pursuits, my community, and the closest thing I have to call home. I don't know how people get through life without the hope that God has a plan and a future for them. I know this to be true, and I still become anxious and worry. 10 days till my safety nets are cut. But maybe it's only 10 days until I truly learn how to trust.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you," declares the LORD." -Jeremiah 29:11-13
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