Small Church Ministry

I have now been working at my field education placement for two months at a small church about a half hour north of Princeton. My first Sunday there was my first worship service in which I was to be serving in a traditional service as a liturgist, though that hardly seemed to matter. I was thrown into the deep end and had to learn how to swim real fast. It also happened to be communion, which meant I was to be responsible for helping to pass out the elements. Needless to say, I was a little terrified. If you have ever held a tray of communion cups filled to the brim with grape juice, you'll understand my terror. I was so afraid I would trip and send the juice cascading in a purple waterfall upon the elders. I have now helped with two communions since that first one and I have yet to be the cause for a grape juice downpour, but the fear still haunts me. So far, I have learned that in a small church everyone needs to pitch in and it doesn't really matter how much experience you have. Many of my experiences this term have been "sink or swim." Either I figure it out or I don't and I am forced to learn from my mistakes.

Thankfully, most of the time I have been successful thus far. Of course, I have had my fair share of teaching moments. I have been given some guidance on how to be a better reader of Scripture as well as the little traditions that I was unaware of, but overall, God has seen me through. However, the real test is about to hit me. In a week and a half, I'll be leading a prayer retreat for the Elders and Deacons. My pastor needs refreshment so he wants me to be completely in charge of this retreat. I have never lead a retreat before. I've been to many, but nothing geared toward Elders and Deacons. To say the least, this is quite the task for me. It is difficult to plan a retreat with a goal of spiritual refreshment for a church context that I am new to. I'm not sure what the root cause of their weariness is. I want this retreat to be meaningful, but I'm afraid that it will end up simply being a treatment for symptoms rather than a dose of medicine to fight the disease. I recognize that I am not the one who will renew the life of the congregation. Only God can. Frankly, I do not see the same level of general weariness that my pastor sees. Sure, people are overburdened, but I'm not sure that will be fixed by three hours talking about and practicing prayer. It might help them deal with weariness, but inspiring those who will not be coming to the retreat to pitch in and help is the only way to ease the responsibilities placed on the leadership's shoulders.

I guess this leads me back to the main lesson I'm learning. In order for a small church to be really healthy and for all the members to be thriving, ALL the members need to share the load. Submission and service are key elements of a functioning Christian community. For that I will hope and pray.

November already?!

Like the rest of you, I flipped over my calendar on Monday as I always do the first day of the month. As the picture changed from two students strolling down the Hello Walk to enthusiastic Jubilation dancers (yes, I do have a Whitworth calendar. It's one of the perks of being an alumnus and having parents who were so economical as to wrap it up as a Christmas present), I caught myself wondering how in the world it is already November. October seemed to fly by without my noticing it.

November means, among other things, that the semester is more than halfway over. For this, I am completely unprepared. I have multiple large assignments to complete, a prayer retreat to organize and lead, and my first ever sermon in front of a real congregation to give between now and then. Where did the first half of the semester go? I have felt far more busy and stressed this year than any other year of school. No one told me being a middler was so hard before I got here. Now, of course, all the seniors are giving us slightly sympathetic grins as they nod their heads in agreement that middler year is the hardest year of seminary. Not only am I taking a full load of courses, but I'm also serving part time as a student pastor. By the way, small church work takes a ton of time. Though my official hours are not to exceed 15, my time in preparation and at the church generally exceeds this limit. Teaching an adult Sunday school class takes more preparation than I thought.

I don't want to sound like I'm complaining. I'm just trying to express that juggling all these different demands on my time has facilitated in increasing the rate in which time has seemed to pass by. It is hard to catch my breath and live in the moment. However, as November also means Thanksgiving, this is the month to do just that. I am reminded to stop and think about all of the blessings I have been given. Studying at Princeton is one of the greatest blessings a person can have. I have a room to myself that is actually quite large, a warm bed, more clothes than I know what to do with, and food that I do not have cook every day. I have a wonderful family that supports and prays for me. Parents who are willing to stretch their budget to make sure that my older brother and myself get to come home for Christmas. Friends who share the burdens of school and walk with me through it. My friends here provide solidarity and occasions for fun and relaxation. My friends scattered across the United States remind me of who I am and help to keep me grounded. I am incredibly blessed.

So as the time flies by, I will make it my goal to stop every now and then and thank God for all that he has given me.

Praise and Thanksgiving

I realized earlier this week that I have lost a vital sense of joy and gratitude in my life. I'm not sure what the culprit is, though I suspect Hebrew may have had something to do with it. Whatever the reason, however, it is not an emotional place I want to continue living in. As a response to the lack of joy (and because I was inspired by Mollie McComb's list of 'Things I Love' on her blog), I have compiled a list of things that I am thankful for, that give me joy, and bring a smile to my face . This list is not exhaustive or ranked in order. I just thought I'd do this little exercise to remind myself that I have been blessed in multiple and profound ways. So here it is. Some things that fill my heart with praise and thanksgiving:

1) Phone calls from my 11-year-old brother
2) The sound of my nephew's infant giggle
3) Sunny days
4) A slight breeze that brings refreshment
5) Dancing
6) Dressing up in silly ways
7) My new sexy little black dress
8) Lady Gaga themed parties
9) Meeting my friends' families
10) Ice cream
11) Chocolate of any and all varieties (possibly with the exception of toffee filled chocolate)
12) "Just because" visits, phone calls, texts, etc.
13) Letters in my mailbox
14) Road trips
15) Listening to neighbors and friends play guitar
16) Playing guitar
17) Children expressing their thoughts on God
18) Sitting by the water
19) Sitting on the Atchison's deck at sunset
20) Sunsets in general
21) Coffee dates
22) Adventures big and small
23) Hearing about people's lives, both their joys and struggles
24) Hugs
25) Cuddles
26) Kisses
27) Watching sports
28) Dark beer
29) Hot Cocoa on a rainy/snowy day
30) Fresh snow
31) Frisbee
32) Disc Golf
33) Long conversations with my mom
34) Photography
35) The way Henry tells stories
36) Leaves changing in Fall
37) Theological discussions
38) Seeing old friends
39) Exploring new areas of the country and the world
40) Indie Folk music
41) Ingrid Michaelson's "The Way I Am"
42) 80's pop ballads
43) Swimming
44) Yoga
45) Sound View Camp
46) Camping with good friends
47) Walks
48) Hiking
49) Snuggling up with a good novel
50) Cooking, especially when the meal will be enjoyed with dear friends

That's just a small sampling of the many blessings in my life. I am so thankful for all that God has given me. It makes me sad how quickly I forget that I am blessed beyond words. It is my prayer that the next time I feel like complaining, my mouth instead is filled with thanksgiving for all that God has graciously provided me. It truly is mind-blowing to consider all that I have been given. God really is good and not just for what He has given me.

Fighting for a Lost Cause

As I sat at work today highlighting sheets of paper to designate which books we really shouldn't be scanning, I was listening to Pandora. My work in the seminary library is mind-numbing and often my Pandora stations are all that get me through my two-hour shifts. Today, Beck's song "Lost Cause" came on. I had heard this song once or twice before. While I was listening, I decided to look up the lyrics. Reading them, I began to feel a bit of an identification with the feeling of fighting for a lost cause. In some ways, one of my relationships feels like it might be a lost cause. I've been asking myself for the last few days when is it time to let go? Listening to the song and reflection on this question, I was reminded of the first time I heard it. It was in one of my classes in undergrad, I think Ethics. We discussed whether or not anyone ever is a lost cause. Is it right to label a person or a relationship a lost cause? Aren't we all worth fighting for? Didn't Christ die for us and in so doing, make us worth loving and worth the fight? Am I simply being selfish even thinking about walking away from a relationship because it isn't working out the way I think it should?

This last question is what indicates what my internal debate was really about. As I reflect more, I have to admit that I do think I am being selfish. I have certain expectations of how my life should pan out that when those things do not happen, I become frustrated. This leads me to pinpoint the source of my frustration onto something external and attempt to cut that thing out of my life. What I should be doing instead is embracing the challenge to my desires as an avenue for growth. What clued me into my selfish attempt to cling to my plan for my life was my reaction to hearing the news that my childhood best friend was going to become a father. His wife is currently in labor with their daughter. So much has changed in our lives since the time that we were running around playing "Boxcar Children" or choreographing dances to "Men in Black." He's been married for a year and is about to be a father, while I am so far away from that stage in life. When I had pictured where I'd be at 23, I always thought I'd be at least married. Giving up that dream has been tough. However, it is necessary. I'm not there yet and that's okay.

Therefore, I will continue to fight for the "lost cause" relationship, because every person and relationship is worth fighting for, while recognizing that the real lost cause that should be abandoned is the plan I have created for my life. I need to let go of my desires and instead allow God to shape them into what he would have me want. Rather than focusing on where I wish I was in my life, I should enjoy what I have and allow God to prepare me for the next stage and the work he would have me do. Too bad that is so much easier said than done.

Thoughts on Academics

In regards to the academic endeavor, Simone Weil (noted philosopher and Christian mystic) once wrote, "The solution of a geometry problem does not in itself constitute a precious gift, but the same law applies to it because it is the image of something precious. Being a little fragment of particular truth, it is a pure image of the unique, eternal, and living Truth, the very Truth that once in a human voice declared: 'I am the Truth.' Every school exercise, thought of in this way, is like a sacrament."("Reflections on the Right Use of School Studies with a View to the Love of God").

When I heard these words quoted in chapel this morning, I found myself renewed in my desire and decision to attend grad school. Over the past seven weeks, while I enjoyed far too much solitude, I found myself wondering why I was continuing my education. What exactly was I trying to accomplish? As I have said before, the original reason that prompted my coming to seminary have changed. I no longer wish to go into PhD work (for the time being at least) and I am becoming more inclined toward pastoral ministry of some type. Given that, I often wonder what purpose does a masters-level education serve (apart from being required for ordination in the Presbyterian Church)? I have not learned anything about doing ministry that I couldn't have learned by trial and error or through reading. Why am I here? Why do I feel called to be here at Princeton? Once Hebrew began last week, those questions only grew more intense as I became more and more overwhelmed by the task of learning a dead language (Biblical Hebrew is apparently different enough from Modern Hebrew to be considered dead).

However, as I sat in chapel this morning and listened to one of the Hebrew teaching assistants list off four reasons for studying a dead language, employing Weil as her support, I was reminded of the nobility of academic pursuit. Being here at seminary is preparation, in more ways than simply the formal education in the classroom, for what comes next. What I am learning here is shaping me and preparing me for serving and equipping the saints for the work God has prepared for them. Furthermore, seminary is one of many ways to learn more about God and as a result, draw into a closer and deeper relationship with the Creator of the universe. I love the second half of the above quote. "Being a little fragment of particular truth, it is a pure image of the unique, eternal, and living Truth, the very Truth that once in a human voice declared: 'I am the Truth.'" Think about that for a second. The more truth we learn, the more we learn about God. If I were to keep that as a constant thought on my mind as I continue my education, how would that change the way I study? It really does make studying akin to a sacrament. Grace is bestowed through study, the grace of the knowledge of our Creator and Savior. As I go deeper in my study of Hebrew, I hope I can keep this thought ever before me. Maybe, just maybe, I will be filled with gratitude rather than frustration and anxiety.

Somehow, I have not heard much about Simone Weil up to this point in my years of theological education. For that I am sad. I think I would really like her. Especially because of her views on academics and the reminders her writings give. That being said, I'll leave you with one last quote from her that I think says it all.

"Academic work is one of those fields containing a pearl so precious that it is worth while to sell all of our possessions, keeping nothing for ourselves, in order to be able to acquire it."

Amen.

The Sound of Summer Slipping Away

Alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon... Those were the sounds of yesterday as one of my good friends learned the Greek alphabet in preparation for summer intensive language school, which starts in a little over a week. Monday after next, the majority of my friends, a handful of incoming students, myself, and others will begin our summer language courses. Hebrew is the course on the docket for me. If you have never learned Hebrew, let me just tell you that it is terrifying. I looked at the alphabet yesterday in a futile attempt to get a head start and wanted to cry. It is nothing like anything I've ever learned before. First, the letters don't look like normal letters. Second, there are no vowels. Third, you have to read backwards. How am I going to survive 8 weeks of 6 hour days of Hebrew?

A question like this reminds me that I have grown up despite all of my attempts to hinder that process. My summers are no longer filled with childish games and carefree fun, but rather with work and studying. That is not to say that there is no fun to be had. I have had an enjoyable summer for the most part. Trips to the shore, board games, the zoo, catching fireflies, and other adventures have kept my summer from being completely dull. But as the summer slips away, I'm wishing I had gone on more silly adventures. This is most likely my last summer with significant amounts of free time. Next summer will be consumed by an internship and the summer after that is the start of real grown up life, whatever that means. It's amazing how quickly time flies leaving you standing on the edge of responsible adulthood before you are aware of how fast your childhood and adolescence have flown by. I miss the carefree days of summer that were eagerly awaited during the school year. If only I had recognized how quickly all of that would pass, maybe I would have taken advantage of it more. For now, it's back to the attempts to make the last few days of my summer last forever before jumping in over my head into Hebrew. Wish me luck!

Wear Sunscreen

If you have never heard the essay set to music and turned into a song by Baz Luhrmann (it was turned into a song by Luhrmann, but written by a woman named Mary Schmich in 1997 for the Chicago Tribune- Wikipedia is to be thanked for this helpful bit of information), you should go on youtube right now and listen to it, because it is amazing and will help to add another layer beyond the superficial to my blog title. While the majority of this blog will have to do with the wise advice of wearing sunscreen and the adverse effects of choosing to disregard said advice, in it I will also try to communicate some lessons I think should actually be learned, preferably not the hard way. Trust me, learning the hard way is called that for a reason and should be avoided at all costs. I learned the hard way this past weekend about disregarding the tip about sunscreen.

Taking advantage of the national holiday, three friends and I decided to head to the shore. The shore is one of few things I absolutely love about Jersey. It is such a novelty for beaches to be sandy and the water to be more than barely warmer than an ice cube. Granted the water temperature on Monday was probably in the 60's and still made one yell with shock when plunging into its depths, it definitely beat the 45 degree water that I swam in every summer growing up. But I digress.

Vanity got the best of me that hot spring day (I really wanted to say summer, but it's not officially summer yet is it? Sad). I put sunscreen on in the morning, an hour and a half before we hit the beach. After laying out in the sun, with minimal protection on my body, I went in the water. I did not reapply sunscreen. Three hours later, I went back into the water. Again, I did not reapply. Finally, when I could begin to feel the skin on my shoulders crisping, I put a little bit of sunscreen on. At that point, it was much too late. The damage was done. Let me just tell you, the damage was pretty bad. I have never been this badly burned in my life. Thankfully, it did not blister. However, my skin took on the vibrant hue of a lobster fresh from the pot and became murderously tender to the touch. Let's just say that sleeping became the worst kind of adventure. For the past two days I have been yelping at every touch and unable to make it through the night without being woken up by the awful stinging sensation of my destroyed skin reminding me of the damage that had been wreaked by sun because of my vain stupidity. I admit it, I wanted a great tan and was willing to risk getting burned. I am quite thankful that it was not as bad as it could have been, but this burn has definitely made me much more hesitant to neglect sunscreen in the future.

In the past few months, wearing sunscreen is not the only bit of advice I wish I would have paid more heed to. I wish I was living in the moment more and not getting caught up in worry. I need constant reminding that, "worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum." I should be nicer to my siblings and I should not be so willing to put up with those who are reckless with my heart (whether intentionally or unintentionally). Those are only a few of the many pieces of advice I would like to be better at applying to my life.

I am hitting that point where I am running out of things to say. That seems to happen quite often lately. My mind does not seem to want to stop, but then I start to write down my thoughts and in the middle of this exercise everything comes to a screeching halt. Not that I was writing or was going to write any sort of literary masterpiece. As a parting token, I will again advise you to listen to "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" by Baz Luhrmann. I don't think you'll regret it.

And Death Shall Be No More, Death, Thou Shalt Die

This phrase is the ending line to a poem by John Donne that is one of my favorites and also the meditative thought flowing through the movie "Wit" starring Emma Thompson. During Eastertide, a season of the liturgical year I usually pay no mind to, I have been reflecting on resurrection and the death of death quite a bit. Easter this year has renewed significance. The death of a close friend makes the resurrection of the dead not just a far off thought, but an earnest hope and longed for reality. I have to believe that Christ really did rise from the dead and that through faith in him those who believe will also be resurrected.

I first sat down to write this blog the Monday after Easter. Life got in the way and I lost the words that had weighed so heavily on my mind as I sat in chapel that Monday morning and rejoiced in the truth and hope of the resurrection. Many things have happened since that Easter Monday. Eastertide is nearing its end and I am forced to reflect on another tragedy. This one is close to home in a different way than Lee's death. A member of my home church, husband of one of my high school leaders and mentors, father of children I grew up with and at one time or another called friend, was involved in a murder-suicide about 24 hours ago. A man, in whose house I spent a good amount of time my freshman and sophomore years of high school, snapped and shot both of his in-laws before killing himself hours later. His father-in-law died right away. His mother-in-law was airlifted to a hospital in Seattle where she later died. Such a tragic event causes one to think about what pushes a seemingly gentle and quiet man to the point of murder. As I mourn and grieve for and with the family, I have to believe in the power of the resurrection. I have to believe in the restoration and reconciliation that was accomplished in and through Jesus Christ. Without such a foundation, events such as these are completely meaningless and I am lost. I cannot even begin to fathom the pain and confusion that the family must be experiencing. My heart aches for them. I can only hope and pray that God comforts them in this very difficult time.

I also hope and pray that my year begins to become more boring soon. Too much has happened this year for my liking. I can't handle this much tragedy and heartache. It is hard for me to trust that God is only giving me what I can bear, because I don't really feel like I can bear any of this. I guess that's just it, isn't it? He gives us what we can bear, but we need his help to bear it. While I wrestle with yet another tragic event, I look to the truth in the words, "Death, thou shalt die." This is my hope and comfort. God has won the victory and in him I trust.

As the Year Comes to a Close

I honestly cannot believe that next Tuesday marks the end of my first year in seminary. The time cannot have gone so quickly. It feels like yesterday that I was pulling up alongside Brown Hall in a rented car packed full of stuff, tired after a 10-day road trip full of fun and adventure with my mom and the various friends and family visited along the way, as well as nervous about what the year was going to hold. Questions were flying through my brain crashing into each other as I wrestled to find answers that would take away the nerves. What would the people be like? Would I do well in class? Will I survive grad school? Do I have what it takes? Will I meet any cute boys? You know, the usual questions when facing a new situation. I am happy to say that the answers I have to those initial questions are all positive. The people are, on the whole, fantastic. I have done well in class, perhaps not as well as I would have liked, but well enough. So far I have survived grad school, which makes me believe that I have what it takes. And yes, I have met some cute boys and yes, there is one in particular who caught my eye and whose eye I somehow caught as well.

While those thoughts and worries seem to have been consuming my mind quite recently, it also seems as though a lifetime stands between me and that first nervous day of unpacking and meeting the people I would be spending the next three years with. I am a different person than the one who first came into Brown 404 on that sunny morning of September 15. My life plans have changed since coming here. I am changing denominations in order to pursue ordination. I am considering the possibilities of overseas missions in Africa. I have fallen in love. I have lost a very dear friend. I have made friendships that will last forever. I have become an aunt. I have road tripped to Tennessee and back. I have laughed and I have cried. I have yelled and I have been yelled at. I have forgiven and I have been forgiven. I have argued and I have praised. I have taken friends to the hospital and I have been taken by friends to the hospital. I have comforted and I have been comforted. As I reflect on all that this year has held, I am amazed at what eight months can hold and how they can irrevocably change one's life. I haven't changed enough to no longer recognize the young woman who was full of nerves and questions, but enough to say that my life is different than it was. It seems strange to me that a year ago at this time I was preparing to graduate college and was facing the unknowns of post-college life. That seems like light-years ago.

Overall, I am thankful for what this year has held and the changes it has wrought. There are definitely experiences I wish I could have done without. I wish I could be writing this knowing that Lee was going to read it. I wish life had a little more certainty right now. However, even as I say that, I am reminded that life is completely certain because of who God is. I know that I don't walk through life alone. I walk it with the God who has conquered death. I have been born into a living hope that is grounded in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. I have no reason for worry, but only to cast that on the God who cares for me. Granted this is all easier to say than to actually put into practice, but it is good to remind myself on a regular basis and let go of my white-knuckled grip on the trunk full of worries and uncertainties and my need for control.

Missing You... (A Note for Lee)

Today I missed you. I missed you a lot. This week was the Institute for Youth Ministry that we had talked about you coming to so that you could visit me and meet all my friends. I had forgotten about that conversation and the excitement of your coming until the first day of the conference, which also happened to be the two month anniversary of your passing. I hate that you are gone. I miss you so much. It hurts to know that I will never get to see you again until that day I stand before our Lord with you. Though I know that I will see you again, it barely helps to dull the pain. I wish I could see you right now. I wish I could call you and tell about my life. I wish you could have commanded me to get better when I had bronchitis. I wish you could have helped me think through my systematic paper. I wish you could have told me I was crazy for saying I wasn't going to do well on it. I wish you could have given me your "I told you so" talk when I did do well on it. I wish you could have come to IYM. I wish we could have listened to Shane Claiborne speak and then have coffee afterward to talk about what we agreed with and what we disliked. I wish you could have met Henry and Ashton and all of my other friends. I wish you could have intimidated a certain person :). I wish we could play frisbee golf and go swing dancing. I wish I could call you right now and tell you everything I am going through. It's not fair that you left so early. I know I am selfish for wanting to have you here in this broken world rather than in the marvelous light of the kingdom, but this life made more sense and was easier to navigate when I had you here to walk through it with. Now all I have is the memories of our friendship and the adventures we shared. All I can do is hope that those memories do not fade and that the memory of how you lived your life and the guidance you gave me helps to continue to give me direction. I am thankful for the love you showed and the wisdom you passed on during the time I got to spend with you. I am thankful for you friend and I will always miss you.

Reflections Lent Week 5

Today it has been one month since I was told the news about Lee. I am not sure that the time has really helped much, other than make it easier to ignore the pain. Being so far away from a group that was grieving with me made it difficult to really let myself mourn completely. It is easy to dull the reality of the loss and to get into the mindset that it is to be expected to not hear from Lee; he lives so far away and he's so busy. However, the little things always seem to remind me that he is gone. We had a midterm paper due last week in my systematic class and I kept thinking that I should call Lee and talk about the questions and see what he had to say, before remembering that is no longer a possibility. It was also hard to celebrate my birthday last week. It was so painful knowing that a birthday note was not going to come. That is the hardest part of all: knowing that he is no longer here to share the things of life with. No more consultations on theology, words of wisdom for life, a great big bear hug, birthday greetings, a friendly hello, etc. It is really only in these moments that the loss becomes real. In a way I am thankful that I can dull the pain in the time between these milestones, but that only makes the marked absence of Lee that much more difficult. I do not understand why God decides to take people before it seems to be their time. For this reason, I decided to write my systematic paper on the question related to the problem of evil. This is a problem that I cannot solve and I knew that full well going into the paper, but in my grief I needed to try to find comfort in God's providence, to find someway to continue to trust in the goodness of God. Writing the paper and latching on to the truth that Christ suffered for me and suffers with me, makes it easier to carry the burden of grief.

The pain lives on, however, and makes it quite difficult to want to continue the prayer practicum. Some days trying to talk to God feels like pulling teeth. I have little to say and often I feel like I am praying to an empty sky, unsure that my prayers are even heard. It is at these times that I am so thankful for the Psalms. This weeks assignment for the practicum has been to pray through the Psalms and I have found this exercise the most fruitful. I can't formulate words to express how I feel, which is okay because the Psalmist expresses them for me. Words such as, "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart," resonate with me in such a real and profound way right now. I feel like God is so far away from me as one thing after another keeps knocking me to the ground. How long must I wait for the Lord to answer my cry for help and mercy? How long must I wait to be heard? How long must I wait for God to change me? I do not really feel like this month and a half of intentional prayer has brought me any closer to God. So far, it has only succeeded to make me feel the apparent distance from God that much more acutely. It is hard to feel alienated from God when trying to contemplate and celebrate the event which secured redemption for the world.

Death and Life: Goodbye Lee Stover, but hello Remington

On Friday night, I learned that one of my best friends from college, Lee Stover, had passed away. Lee was an amazing friend and will be sorely missed. I met Lee in our sophomore year of college. He was the intimidating Small Group Coordinator who was going to be one of my leaders as I served as a Small Group Leader in the freshmen dorm, Baldwin-Jenkins. When I say Lee was intimidating, I don't mean that he was anything other than a huge teddy bear, but that he was HUGE. "A giant of man" as our friend Cheri has aptly called him. Lee was the sort of person that you could run into at your top speed and he would not budge at all (trust me, I tried this on a number of occasions. It was my favorite game to play with Lee). But his physical size was not all that was huge about this wonderful man. He also had a huge heart. He was a passionate friend, student, and above all, follower of Christ. His love of God was clearly evident in how he lived his life. He cared deeply about all he met and showed the love of Christ in every action. Not afraid to admit mistakes, but just as willing to stand firmly for what he thought was right, Lee was a man who lived out Micah 6:8 with all his heart. I learned from a friend that his former co-workers at Starbucks at which he worked during his year off between school and serving as a youth director were deeply shocked by the news. It has been about six months since he worked there, yet they still feel the impact of his life and are greatly saddened by his loss. That is only one of the many testaments to the lasting impressions that Lee left upon all those whom he met.

When I told my mom about Lee's death, one of the first things she said was, "he lived life." Not a truer word could be spoken about him. Lee definitely lived life. This was clear in how much he loved dancing. Boy did he love to dance. It didn't matter where you were at the time, if there was a good dancing song on Lee would dance to it. Whether it was on the dance floor, in the kitchen of his house, or in the aisle of a grocery store, if there was music and a girl, Lee would dance. One of my favorite memories was Lee's 21 birthday. We went out for drinks and in our somewhat intoxicated state decided we wanted food so went to a nearby grocery store. As we were walking down the frozen foods aisle, a catchy song came one. Lee took one look at me, grabbed my hand, and spun me into a dip. We then proceeded to foxtrot in the middle of the store. After a minute, I was dizzy from the combination of spinning and alcohol and so he turned and danced with our friend Bre who was with us.

He also loved to take adventures. If you proposed a crazy idea to him that was somewhat feasible, he would do whatever he could to make it happen. This is how we ended up driving down to Arizona during spring break of my senior year with another friend. We wanted to see a friend who had moved to Arizona and Lee wanted to make it happen. That week was full of crazy fun and good conversation. We camped in cold Utah, attempted to camp at the Grand Canyon, hiked around the Canyon, went to a spring training baseball game, played in the park on the swings, and just had a fantastic time. When we weren't playing, we were having deep and engaging conversations. Lee was always up for a good conversation, whether it was about life in general or about his love, Theology. During this trip, I read aloud The Horse and His Boy by C.S. Lewis. This always triggered a conversation about God. I loved listening to Lee's insights on the things of God. We did not often agree in these conversations, which would sometimes get heated. When they did, Lee would always make a ridiculous statement about how he was better in some silly thing call me suckerfish and we would laugh. No matter how frustrated or angry we got with each other, somehow Lee always managed to bring us down from that and maintain a deep friendship. From the time I was privileged to spend with him, I knew he was going to make an excellent minister. I wish I could have seen him work with the kids in his youth group.

The thing that I will remember most about Lee, outside of his passionate and steadfast love of God, was his passionate concern for people. Lee was a fierce friend. I knew that no matter what he would go to bat for me if my honor or safety was on the line. He truly was a brother to me in this way. The last time I saw Lee during his visit to Western Washington over Christmas, he was concerned with making sure I was being protected and cared for at seminary. After a conversation full of jokes and a little bit of catching up, Lee stated that it was time to get serious. He said to me, "Sarah, it is time to be serious, I need to know that there is at least one guy in your life at Princeton who is looking out for you and making sure you are cared for. You know that if anything major happens to you, I will be there in a heartbeat, but I will be at ease with you being so far away if I know that there is someone to hold my spot for a while." He did not say these things because he believed I could not take care of myself, he knew that I could, but he loved and cared for me deeply and wanted to make sure that there were other people who did as well. I will always love and remember him for that.

Lee was a great man who will be missed by many. It is hard to come to terms with the neverness that death implies. A fellow seminarian who also went through a period of grief recently wrote, "It's the neverness that is so painful. Never again to be here with us -- never to sit with us, never to laugh with us, never to cry with us, never to teach us. All the rest of our lives we must live without you. And only our death can stop the pain of your death. I miss you. And I want you back." These words resonate so deeply in my heart and soul right now. I want Lee back. I want to hear his joyful laugh and his traditional greeting, "Hi friend." I want him to call my Shuyck and suckerfish. I want to dance a foxtrot with him. Celebrating my nephew's birth was bittersweet knowing that Lee would have rejoiced with me. I miss having him to be joyful with and cry with and just to live life with. And I must remember that the neverness is only true in this world. There will be a day when I will see my friend again and I rejoice in that fact. Another seminarian (different than the one quoted above) reflected on death by considering the idea of Jesus weeping. This has brought me great comfort to know that Jesus, God incarnate, is weeping with me over the loss of my friend. And this same Jesus, who weeps and mourns with me, has overcome death and has provided eternal life to those who believe. I know that Lee is dancing with Christ now and that brings me laughter and joy in the midst of my tears. I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to get to know this wonderful man of God. He has blessed my life in so many ways and I can't wait to see him again when we are both before the face of God. What a glorious day that will be!

Not only do I find joy in eternal life, but God has provided joy in the new life of my nephew, born at 8:13 March 1, 2010. It has been difficult to rejoice in birth while simultaneously grieving over death. I found it hard to be happy, but also difficult to be sad. I know I need to give myself space to really mourn Lee, but I also don't want to forever associate my nephew's birthday with death. I want him to have a life unto his own in my heart and mind. That is the challenge I face, but I know God is good and that he has given me Remington as a reason for joy despite my suffering. Remy will forever remind me that death is not the final answer, but that we are born unto new life and that life is life eternal. Praise be to God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!

Reflections on Lent Week 1

The first week of the Lenten season has been an interesting one. During this season, I have given up coffee and am engaging in 15 minutes of sustained daily prayer. This "prayer practicum" has been simultaneously easier and harder than I anticipated. It is easier in that I have no trouble remembering to pray. In fact, I find myself praying more often. Additionally, I am not finding a lack of things to lift up in prayer. On the other hand, it is more difficult in that I am struggling to keep myself in sustained prayer. My mind seems to wander incessantly. The strange part about this is that in the first two days it was easy to remain focused. I had no problem remaining in prayer for the full 15 minutes. Maybe the lack of focus on subsequent days is due to a lack of practice. I do not normally engage in sustained prayer for more than a few minutes at a time.

In this prayer practicum, I have noticed a few benefits. I can more readily recognize the hand of God in my life. I am more attentive to the blessings he gives and the trials he employs to make me more like his Son. Through intentionally setting time aside to pray, I am forced to slow down in the midst of my busyness. This has not only opened my eyes to God's work, but it has brought much needed stress relief. However, God is also using this time of inward reflection to "blast my gourds" so to speak. This phrase comes from the story of Jonah, and is also a lyric in one of my favorite songs. Basically, it means that God is slowly (or not so slowly in some cases) breaking my grip on the things that I depend on rather than depending fully on him. Inward trials are being employed to free me from self and pride, in order that I may find my all in God.

Today was the most intense example of these inward trials. The whole day was one long onslaught of emotional stress. The day started off on the wrong foot: waking up late and not being able to shower because both the showers were taken (oh the joys of dorm life). In my first class, the professor told an emotional tale of his mother's fight against rheumatoid arthritis. This professor, who is very reserved and intellectual, paused on multiple occasions to regain composure as he related the story of pain and suffering. The afternoon was then full of hard discussions on forgiveness and reconciliation that culminated in the telling of stories of victims of violent crimes and their struggle with forgiving the offender. If that was not enough, I ended the evening with a very difficult discussion with my dearest friend at seminary. He was the one person I wanted to spend time with tonight to receive relief and comfort after the trying day. However, our conversation quickly turned into something that would be much more emotional stress than the rest of the events of my day combined. On top of all that, the weather today did not help my mood. There is something about gray, rainy days that do not inspire happiness. It is little wonder that Western Washington has the highest suicide rate in the country.

I do not mean to complain about my day. I know that there are people who are in far worse conditions throughout the world. All I am trying to relate is the feeling that everything is falling apart and I know that God is using this feeling to force me to hold on to him. In reflecting on this, I reminded of yesterday's chapel message. In the midst of the storm, Jesus is here in the boat with me, I have no reason to fear. This is the truth God is reminding me of through these inward trials. The things that I hold onto are not sufficient, only God is. Sometimes it takes a storm to force me to remember that. I just wish it did not have to happen all on the same day. I am a little afraid to find out what the rest of this Lenten season holds for me if this is what I get after only one week.

Discovering Liturgical Practice

Growing up in a non-mainline denomination, liturgy did not have much of a place. It wasn't until coming to seminary that I began to experience liturgy on a regular basis. Whitworth offered opportunities to experience some of the liturgical practices, especially Ash Wednesday, but I rarely took advantage. I have never gotten into the practice of Lent. This will be the first year that the Lenten season is set aside as something different for me. I have never seriously attempted to fast from anything (I did make a half-hearted effort to give up sweets until I remembered my birthday fell within Lent as always). It should come as no surprise then when I say that this is the first year that I have ever gone to an Ash Wednesday service and had ashes placed on my forehead. 

It has been an interesting experience thus far. Walking the mile to work today included receiving some interesting looks from folks. I received many a double-take as people walked past me. At first I wanted to respond with some sort of sarcastic comment along the lines of, "yes I do indeed know that there is something on my forehead." The looks made me a little uneasy. As I walked along, however, I became more comfortable with the looks and began to reflect on my initial discomfort. Why did I feel like I needed to defend myself? Why was I uncomfortable? As Christians, we are called to be different, to be in but not of the world. This means we should expect to receive funny looks from people, to stand out in some ways. How often, though, we want to hide and blend in. It usually is not much fun to stand out in a crowd.

As this Lenten season begins and moves on, I will continue to reflect on this experience and what it means to follow the God-man who walked to lonely road to Jerusalem to sacrifice his life for my sake.  

On Love and Valentine's Day

While perusing Facebook this afternoon, I came across a friend's status that called Valentine's Day "An excuse to tell those around me that I love and appreciate them." At first I thought that this was a great way to view the day, but upon further reflection it struck me that we shouldn't set aside only one day during which we tell those around us that we love and appreciate them. That should be done as often as possible. The older I get, the more I come to believe that people long for love and affirmation more than anything else. From my theological perspective, I believe this desire comes from our innate longing for relationship with our Creator. As Augustine aptly said so many centuries ago, "You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds rest in You." We long to love and know that we are loved. I don't think anyone really ever gets tired of being told that they are appreciated. Granted, I think telling someone that you appreciate them all the time may lessen its weight, however, I think that such communication should take place on more than one day a year.

With that being said, Valentine's Day remains a good reminder to express your love and appreciation for those dear to you. It does not have to be a holiday just for those in romantic relationships. Elementary school V-Day celebrations are a case in point. I remember making valentines for everyone in my class. I loved the holiday because I got to give and receive cards (not to mention, consume a lot of delicious candy). I wish Valentine's Day could remain fun and simple like it was in childhood, rather than becoming just another way to exploit our materialism.

I have never had a "real" Valentine's Day, meaning I have always been single on this day, however, I have been able to find fun ways to spend the day that did not leave me bitter at my lot in life. Last year, I spent time with two wonderful girlfriends of mine that I had not spent quality time with for months. It was a wonderful evening investing in our relationships with one another, especially given the fact that one of those lovely women would be getting married that summer. This year, I spent an Valentine's Day with my best friend at seminary. We did nothing in particular, simply enjoyed one another's company. In the years to come, I think this is the way I want to spend this holiday. Not expecting gifts, flowers, a nice dinner (though those things are nice occasionally), but rather investing in a relationship and simply enjoying the other person. Again, I think that this should be a common occurrence and Valentine's Day does not have to be a special day set aside for it. And maybe I will change my mind when I finally am in a romantic relationship when this "holiday" comes around, but for now, I will continue to see V-day as reminder to love each other, which we should be doing on a regular basis, rather than a day to buy into consumerist ideals and expect gifts.

Abundant Life in the Midst of Ambiguity

This morning, God spoke to me. I don't mean this in an actual physical voice calling out to me, but I know that God was using another person to give me a bit of a wake up call. The call was to live. By this, it was not meant to simply exist as a being taking up space, oxygen, and other natural resources. But to LIVE! Live life abundantly. Before I move on in my external processing of this experience, let me give you the setting:

Who: the seminary chaplain as the instrument through whom God spoke
What: the text- John 10: 7-10; the message- Christ came that we may have life and not just life, but life to the full
When: chapel service February 4, 2010
Where: seminary chapel

As I reflect on the impact the message (as well as the songs picked out to further impress the main theme upon our hearts) had on me, I am struck by my continual subjection to worry and anxiety, which keeps me from living fully. I am constantly concerned with what the future holds, whether or not I am good enough or smart enough, whether everyone around me is comfortable and having a good time. I get so caught up in the worries of where my life is going that I forget to simply live my life. I want everything to be perfect and to work out the way I have planned, but life unfortunately rarely works that way. However, I know that God has a plan and it is infinitely better than any plan I could ever come up with. But, such knowledge does not make giving up control any easier. The strange thing is that it is only in giving up control that I can truly live. That was exactly what the chaplain was exhorting us to do. Give up control of our plans for life and let God have his way, because his way is always better than ours.

However, when life is full of ambiguity, it is hard to trust that God has a plan. It is hard not to let worry and anxiety take control. It is hard to live abundantly. My life is currently full of ambiguity. The very set plans I had when coming to seminary have mostly been thrown out the window. Most of what I thought I wanted has changed. I am pondering possibilities that I never thought I would legitimately entertain. Almost everything I had said I didn't want to do, I am not seriously considering. One of the biggest examples is ordination. Being ordained was the last thing I wanted to do when I came to seminary. I wanted to go for a PhD and teach in a liberal arts college somewhere. Now I am contemplating the possibility of ordination and all its implications, such as switching denominations (the Christian and Missionary Alliance sadly does not ordain women). This discernment process, along with many others, has made life feel out of control completely. All my plans have been changed into question marks. It is so easy to give into worry, anxiety, and fear. Thus, when the chaplain was calling us to live abundantly, I was shaken and full of questions. When life is thrown up in the air and nothing feels at all certain, how is one supposed to live abundantly? How am I to make decisions about living abundantly when I don't know which direction to go in?

Maybe these questions show that I don't really understand what it means to live abundantly, which only compounds the problem of actually living that way. Yet, I think my belated New Year's Resolution is going to be to live an abundant life, trusting in God's plan and not letting myself be controlled and consumed by worry or anxiety. After all, Christ died that I may have life abundantly so how can I do anything other than live it to the full?

Thoughts about Life, the Future, Vocation

Since coming to seminary, I found myself to be less sure of where I am headed in life. I came here with a view of the Masters of Divinity as one hurdle to jump on my pursuit of a PhD with the eventual goal of becoming a professor at a Christian liberal arts college. Of this I am no longer sure. As the days go by, the less appealing PhD programs are becoming. I am finding myself contemplating vocational paths that I swore to myself I would never pursue. The ideas of missions and ordination seem to pop everywhere I go. This is a totally natural and, in many ways, expected occurrence, being at seminary. However, the last few times these ideas, particularly ordination, have come up, I haven't been able to shake them. I try to tell myself that I don't want to pursue a career in parish ministry, but my friends here are continually questioning my reasons why. Each time they ask, my answers become less reasonable and defensible. I am beginning to question myself and the reasons I had for desiring a PhD. Is it simply the pride of receiving such a lofty degree or am I actually following the call of God on my life?

Even as a I reflect on this question, I am forced to rethink how I view calling and vocation. I am beginning to see it less as specific directions for particular actions and more as a general invitation to follow God using one's gifts and skills in as faithful a manner as possible. By this I mean, God's calling is not a specific plan detailing every aspect of life that must be followed. I don't think God has one path we are to follow and if we make the wrong decision we are out of the will of God. I think either option presented in making a decision can be within the scope of God's. For example, choosing a college. I could have gone to any number of colleges and still have been following God's call in my life. I choose Whitworth and it was a wonderful experience, but I do not think that if I had chosen Washington State University or Western Washington University I would have then had a terrible experience and have strayed from God's will. I think this misconception of the will of God causes a lot of undue stress and anxiety when making decisions. In contrast to this view, I think God's will is building off the call to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8).

With this said, I am still compelled to think about where I am headed in life. Of one thing I am sure, I want and feel called (there's that word again) to teach. I don't really know what that will look like anymore. I just know that I am passionate about learning and passing that on to other people. I love to pass on knowledge and inspire excitement over a given subject. I know that I want to teach about God and the Bible. As I have been in the process of discernment, working towards ordination and pursuing a career in parish ministry seems to be the best avenue in which to do this. However, I am a part of a denomination that does not ordain women, making this whole venture more difficult and complicated than the common experience. At this point, all that I can do is continue to discern through prayer and conversations with others.

As I write this and think through my plans for the future, I remember a quote from the movie My Life in Ruins. In this movie, the main character, Georgia, is frustrated that her life is not going according to plan. She asks another character about his life plans and he responds by saying, "You can't plan life." It really is impossible to plan life. We don't know what tomorrow will bring. We can determine some sort of an idea of what we would like to happen, but there is no guarantee that any of it will actually occur. Hopefully I can keep this in mind as I continue the discernment process.