Interesting...

I am working on a paper about calling. This is interesting because it is a topic that I actually have four blogs written about but not yet posted. In this realm, I am also working on an exegesis from the book of Jeremiah that has me writing on this same topic (and the summary of that will be shared when it is finished, followed then by the blog series). I hope you each join with me on that journey.

Calling is something that I think is very unique in both our secular and religious lives. It is not something we can prove but it is something we can have affirmed. And I think that is something to consider (note to self: use that distinction in the paper!). No-one can tell us we didn't feel the call, because they can't tell us what we feel. All others can do is pray for guidance for the called as they discern the way.

And then we come to the oft-quoted line: "God does not call the equipped but equips the called." (I should use that in my paper, too.) In the mountain church tradition that I'm writing about, this is believed adamantly. A preacher would be given the ability to interpret the word and would be given the word extemporaneously (aka: not prepared beforehand). If you prepared beforehand, you were cheating, and either weren't called, or didn't have enough faith to trust that God was going to give you the words to speak.

Interesting...

It's interesting that when you feel called to something, people like to point out the difficulties to you as if you don't realize them already. Callings are always meant to be easy. I mean, look at Isaiah (called to fail) and Jeremiah (called to bring the bad news). It's not an easy path. Hopefully, if you've been called to something, you realize that it's not easy, and that it doesn't happen overnight.

Interesting...

It's interesting that calling is a word that isn't just in our religious lives, but is used in our secular lives often as people try to figure out their vocational goals. Often you hear it in the terms, "I'm just meant to do this."

We are so fearfully and wonderfully made that our souls know what we're meant to do. That means pushing through the pain.

Let's talk about pain for a second. I've recently begun working out at a gym. For years, I confess, I've been scared to work out. Not because of how I looked, or what my fitness level was, or even of other people seeing me in the gym. I was scared because years ago, I was a compulsive exerciser (among other things). Whenever I would get on a kick to be healthy, I would scare myself out of doing too much because I didn't want to become that person again. I decided I needed to just get over that and do what's good for me. And of course, I realize that I do, indeed, still have a love of working out. I love feeling my body move in sync, and with a purpose. I love the feeling after I work out. If I didn't have school, work, and homework to keep me otherwise occupied, I could probably be there all day.

But that doesn't mean it's easy. You can ask one of my friends who went with me the other day. When things get tough, I have to sit there and push through it. If the resistance suddenly goes up on the machine I have to say "just keep going," or "you can do this!" I have to remember all the good with it. It is hard. It's meant to be hard. But I love it. I've never (in my entire life) left a work out wishing I hadn't done it. I've don't think I've ever actually gone to the gym with an attitude of not wanting to be doing that (maybe I don't like the environment, but I like the things I'd be doing)... Maybe that's a gift, or maybe it's a curse... but it's not easy.

I'm not going to say everything easy is bad, because it's not. We all have our gifts. Some people learn languages quickly, or can do math in their head like a wizard, or don't need the instructions to put together a bookshelf. Awesome. But not everything is easy. And I can almost guarantee that if you've been called to something long term, like, for life, then it's not going to be easy.

But we should remember that the best stories don't happen on the flatland with no obstacles, but come from the ups and downs and arounds of life.

Interesting...

An extraordinary normal day...

There are some days that are just extremely busy from a time and task point of view. Today was one of those days in my life. It was entirely too long and filled with just too many things and people. It was so full, that this evening, even though I'm exhausted, I need some time to wind down from it all.

There are a lot of ideas and things roaming in my head from a lot of different conversations I had today, and each one of them was amazing. For the first time in a while I felt like I was in my place, in a place, and with a place. I was wanted and needed, desired and required, leading and following, sitting and doing. It was a balance, but mostly it was *me*. It was me at a point that I haven't been at in a while. It was me in a way that knew what I was doing. It was me in a place that wasn't lost.

I was back on the map.

I *am* back on the map.

I've been off of it for a while. Re-establishing old relationship, building new ones, scaffolding stories and experiences, meshing old and new. Today, it all seemed to fit. Everything I was, everywhere I've been, and everything I've become all took time to *be* today.

I can't get into specifics, and I don't even know if the specifics would make sense out of my head, but I'll just say that it felt good. It was like, for some reason, today was the day I was going to live into where I'm supposed to be going; as if today was a culminating day.

When in actuality, it was just a normal, super-busy day. In reality, there was no time to do anything except the tasks. Maybe take a breath here and there, but only maybe.

Perhaps I thrive on the minimal-oxygen-available type of existence, but I think it's more that I thrive on these relational, meaningful conversations and mutual respect. Today I felt like a person who had a place. And that's a hard thing to find when you are a lowly graduate student. Today I felt like I truly was authentically me.

And it felt good.

Time flies...

No, seriously. Time FLIES. I was semi-joking with people at the beginning of the school year when they were telling me, "As soon as you know it, the three years will have gone by." This process feels really long in the midst of it. It feels like assignment after assignment, and paper after paper (I'll have you know I've printed over 500 sheets of paper since I started school at the end of August).

But really, I'm sitting here about 5.5 weeks from the end of the semester (classes, at least), and 6.5 weeks from being completely done with the first year, the first THIRD of my graduate education, and I'm thinking, "Well, where did that year go?"

I really don't know where it went, but I've had an awfully good time during it. I've spent time with old friends, made new friends, explored new things, learned a new language (and loving it), been busy out of my mind at moments, and pulled ONE all-nighter. I am not going to do that again. I'm really against them, and I always have been (after high school, that is). But really. I just can't do those anymore. My body does not take to missing sleep very well.

But really. I think back to all the work I've done this year, all the papers I've written and pages I've read. The ink I've gone through, and the hours of studying. Time and seasons marching on while I force information into my brain. Information that is going in easier than music history ever did. I don't know what the difference is between now and undergrad, but I'm really learning things much better than I did. A sign maybe?

Life is ever interesting, and it's ever-moving. Time stands still for no man. And here I sit, wasting some more of it.

I have no idea where the last year has gone, but it will be awesome in 2 years when I'm thinking "It's almost time to graduate!!!"

Until then, I'm going to enjoy the ride on the wings of the clock.

Peace.

The smell of morning...

It's not often that I get to sit and enjoy this smell. I'm normally already in class by this point, or I'm in church, or I'm doing homework for the upcoming week.

But this morning, I'm in my house with the doors and windows open, reading my Bible (for class, but we'll ignore that fact for right now), and listening to the music of nature. The birds have been out full force the last few days, and quite regularly I see cardinals that make me smile on my route around town. The sun is shining. There is a little breeze. This is all quite fantastic.

It is March. In America.

This feels like February in my old home. This could easily be a January or February morning sitting on the grass in front of my house playing scrabble with the neighbors when another neighbor comes by on a walk with her dogs. I hear different bird songs now. And none of them are the incessant rapping of a bird on my window. I kind of miss that bird.

More cars go by here than ever did at my old house. But if I pretend, the train whistle could be mistaken for honking horns on the street. I like to think that sometimes. If I changed the setting just a little, I might be able to forget all together that I moved back to this country.

But slowly my eyes open and I realize that power is on, my house is quite a bit larger, and it has carpet. I look around and things are a bit (ha!) more modern. I hear no honking of car horns, or tourists around town. Tourists do not come to this town. And sometimes, that just makes it a little depressing.

Anything exciting going on today? Not particularly. I will not hear noise from the street. I will not feel the earth shake when a boomer goes off. I will not schedule activities around power outages, or have a neighbor run over screaming "APPLES WERE CHEAP TODAY!" I will not light a fire this evening, nor will I venture out to walk around a quaint town that always has someone to stop in and talk to.

I make my own little town wherever I go, instead. I don't have shop owners to stop in and talk to (because who in their right mind owns a shop and then sits in it, apparently), but I have other people to bother. The distance between us is greater, but it's worth the effort. There is something lost in it, I think, in getting in and out of the car. Cars make everything feel so disconnected.

And that's interesting, because they are connecting bigger geographical areas.

But how much community is lost because we are no longer around home when we are doing our business? What does it say that it is cheaper for me to buy gas in a neighboring city so I will go there to get it rather than visit my neighbor? What does it say that some people will drive an hour to work with strangers because it pays better, at the loss of having friends close-by in times of need?

Just interesting thoughts as I sit here this morning, with my eyes wishing they were closed, remembering a simpler life in a country on the other side of the world.

Seasons of...

...no, not love. Though, as I write that title, the song comes into my head loud and proud, and I might have to play it while I write this entry. (only to go look for it and see that it is not in my iTunes. How lame is that? I need to find it and put it on there)

But, back to my original thought.

Seasons of...

Learning.
Giving.
Working.
Thinking.
Contemplating.

Today marks the first day of Lent. For whatever reason, it is 40 days long and leads into the day and season of Easter. So what is Lent?

40 days. To do what?
Learn. Give. Work. Think. Contemplate.
Learn about yourself. About Christ. About the world around you.
Give to the community that holds you.
Work on yourself. On your faith.
Think about your life.
Contemplate the journey to the cross.

Don't yet jump the gun and think about Easter. Take some time to sit here, right now, at the beginning of this season. Sit in the journey ahead. Don't jump to the finish. Don't leap over every meaningful thing before the sunrise. Don't forget that before the end, there was a story, a road, a mile of tests.

Sit here with the unknown.
Sit with the confusion.
Sit in the despair.

Sitting in this season and all that it means only heightens the awareness at the completion of it. The end truly becomes a new beginning when it is seen looking forward and looking back, but if you miss the journey there, you have nothing to look back on.

I hope you sit for the next 40 days.

Before therapists...

What did people do before therapists?

Part of this comes from my own experience, but this question really just has me thinking about community in general. I mean, when did it get that we couldn't share all of ourselves with people around us? I understand that some things are truly big, and I don't think some things should be thrown on top of just one person, because that is not fair, but I feel like it is this idea that keeps so many people hiding things.

When only therapists should hear the big things, or the serious things, it means that people around you aren't aware of what is going on deep inside you, and sometimes, that deepness is actually the essence of who you are or is at least reflective of who you are. Do we think of that? By having to go to the therapist for every BIG thing, we are hiding our essence from those around us. Again, some things are truly deep, and maybe are sensitive, and of course not for public consumption. But what happened to friends that know everything? What happened to being able to be truly authentic with people?

Why is the response to "go find a therapist"? And not, "This is bigger than our friendship/relationship. Is there someone with which you are more comfortable or who knows you better to talk to?" Again, some relationships are legitimately not the right space. You do not go to a professor and talk about relationship problems, and you probably don't go to your child's teacher to talk about feeling depressed. BUT, you might go to your pastor or mentor about being depressed, and a close friend about the relationship problem. Why are some secrets supposedly too dark/much for people? Clearly the person dealing with it is not a therapist, so why is it that only a therapist can help with that?

There are certain situations that I would deem out of my comfort zone. That unless it was with a few of my close friends, I would not be equipped to handle it, but for my close friends, I would do anything and everything I could in whatever situation. It's just a thought.

The therapist is not the answer to the world's problems, people. Relationships are. Get back to true community and openness and watch things change around you. When you can sit together with another person in brokenness, it is one of the most beautiful experiences that exists.

Brokenness is what God wants to heal. In those moments and in that space is where God works. God *is* in the wounds, and the scars, and the tears.

It is the broken body taken at communion, not the whole, perfect, complete body.

Ponder that.

Prayer

So, after a conversation with a friend, I think it is time to post this entry. It has been a long time coming, and I pray (ha) that you can connect with it and, perhaps, change the way you pray.

Prayer is an interesting thing. Prayer requests seem even more interesting. Do you remember being a child and praying for the most mundane things? Your dog, to get a day off of school, for a different color hair… any number of things. One day, if you were in Sunday School and mentioned during prayer request time the people overseas, or kids in Africa, or soldiers in the war, everyone thought you were “so sweet” or “so smart”. It was a good thing that you were thinking outside of yourself…

As you get older, this is kept up. Everyone is always requesting prayer for the big things in the world, and they forget the mundane. Of course, at 30, the mundane is different than it was at 4, but it is never spoken during prayer request time.

Why? Why do we only pray for the big things (friends and family with cancer, soldiers overseas, and dying children in Africa), and never the mundane? Now, don’t get me wrong, I pray everyday for the people around me who are not well, for our men and women in the armed forces, and for all the children around the world who don’t have people to care for them. However, it seems we have forgotten how to pray for the little things. And maybe we do in our own quiet time, but it is not wrong to be among your peers and request prayers for yourself. Isn’t that the point of prayer requests? To ask for prayer and support in what you’re struggling with? When prayers are always requested for those farther removed, aren’t we actually the superficial church? The depth in the church is in becoming honest with those around you. Becoming personal, and going past the point of those ‘distant’ prayers.

Why are we not comfortable with asking for help? If you can’t ask for help in a small group within your church, how can you ask for help from anyone else? It lends itself to people bottling up what is going on in their life. And what good does that do? It just keeps everyone separated in a way that is dividing the world. In the same way we are all removed from each other by technology, the world is becoming more and more superficial. Seems the depth is missing in all aspects of life, including where is should be the basis.

Now the question: How do we change it?

In no way am I saying to stop praying for the BIG things. They should be on the list every day. It is helpful with a white board prayer list to permanently write these constants at the top. The rest can be transient, erasing things as they are resolved and adding new ones as they come up. Constantly keeping up with what is going on in your life will help you realize just how many things there are in your life, and when you share them with others, just how many people care about the ‘little’ things in your life.

I challenge you, the next time you are in a setting taking prayer requests, to ask for something PERSONAL. And it doesn’t have to be that you are sick. Maybe you are stressed. Maybe you are tired. Maybe you are working for a promotion. Share yourself with the people around you. THAT is what church is about.