Fact #54

Proactive preparation actually does work.


It's unfortunate, because I am just realizing this now.

Currently, I have just responsibly completed one of the assignments I have due before my J-term class, "Practices of the Minister."  This is not what Other Ashley would do.  We'll call Other Ashley....Darla.  Darla is a brat.  Darla always gets her way.  Darla lives by Ecclesiastes 3:9, without the context.  Darla tells me that Ashley will get the homework done in time, that she's responsible and honest, but for now, doesn't watching Toddlers and Tiaras with Darla sound more fun?  And she always wins.

But not this time!  I have prevailed!  I am on top of things!

Minus Christmas preparation.

Shit.

Fact #53

Writer's block on finals week is directly proportional to the length of the ABC Harry Potter marathon.


Having a really, really hard time concentrating on my final papers tonight.  I have been having a great deal of difficulty concentrating on anything, really.

To know me, and mean truly, deeply know me, is to know that I love stories.  A well-crafted story, real or imagined, captures me more than anything, especially lately, in an environment that appears to find them senseless...a waste of time.  Sometimes I have to write something down that happened that day, because it felt like it happened so perfectly, it was scripted.

The beginning of mine and Allen's friendship, for example.  I left our dorm around 2 am to meet up with a boy, a member of my drama team, who I was concerned about getting along with.  We were both very stubborn.  Before I left, Bethany asked me if it was wise of me to go, to meet with a boy, let alone a boy I didn't very much like, at so late an hour on a campus notorious for gossip.  I shrugged.  "It feels like a God thing.  Like we'll be friends for a long time after this."  The rest, for lack of better phrase, is history.

I feel like I'm drying up in a world that lacks a sense of whimsy.  Or adventure, for that matter.  I'm not promoting recklessness or a childish response to reality.  Maturity is important, absolutely.  But I don't think adulthood and maturity are synonymous with one another.  In fact, I'm beginning to believe adulthood is a fallacy, created by society to trick us into believing an age bracket makes us mature and gives us certain liberties.  Suddenly, potentially harmful activities are for "adults only."  Adult language, adult beverages, adult stores...why is any of it necessary?

So I return to my stories, where morals are clear and friendship is lasting.  And I bolster myself to create my own, regardless of the skeptical looks and rolled eyes and shaking heads.

Where do you see God working?

I feel like he is altering my perspective on the world.  Thing that were important, are suddenly nauseating to think about.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're a spark.  Don't lose your light."

How do you see God working?

Unsure again.  Sometimes I feel him prompting to speak out on certain things, or in specific situations.  When I do, I meet resistance.  Usually propelled by fear.  When I don't, I leave frustrated regardless.  I feel stuck in the mud.

Fact #52

There is something incredibly satisfying about making a meal out of whatever you have. 


Money seems to be a huge concern lately.  I feel like God's highlighting it specifically this week, like He's saying, "Still trust me? Now? Now? Do you?"                                       
It has been increasingly frustrating, however, having to watch friend after friend after friend get engaged. We had planned on being engaged by now, but had to put our dreams on hold when Allen's dad passed.  It's understandable, it would have been a huge insult to go ahead with it regardless of the tragedy.  But now the financial end of that trial is whipping Allen as if he's never been on top of his finances (this is sarcasm, Allen is a bigger workaholic than I am).  It's even more frustrating when they started dating after Allen and I, infidelity is known, or they've been on and off for years.  Judgmental.  I know.  But it's really hard not to become increasingly discouraged with each engagement.  My best friend just texted me after reading about two others' engagements to tell me that her and her boyfriend are recently planning on being married next fall.  When Allen and I were planning on getting married.  And they've been dating seven months less than we have.

Again, I get it.  Length of said relationship does not dictate the severity and strength of said relationship.  It cannot testify to what one is feeling called to do.  But I'd be misrepresenting my spiritual boot camp here if I didn't say that I called Allen crying after I received the text.  It hurt.  I was mad at her, mad at God, mad at everything and everyone.  I was also on my period, which I now refer to as "Shark Week" (see link).  

It's stretching me, it's growing me, but is also exhausting me.  Allen finally ceded to the idea of getting my engagement ring at an estate sale or pawn shop.  We argued for a long time about it; he was worried it wouldn't be good enough for my parents, or that some day I'd be embarrassed to wear it.  He now understands that I am just not a fan of the rings being produced in popular jewelry stores, they're not my style, nor do they go with anything I own, and I like things that have a story.  He admitted that buying an expensive ring for me was a pride issue.  I admitted that wanting a cheap ring was to rush the process of getting into his pants.  We compromised, him agreeing to look through pawn shops, antique stores, and estate sales, and me allowing him to make the final search, decision, and purchase.  All is well.

Still, I feel it gnawing on the back of my mind.  I feel like an adult in a child-sized relationship.  We have a home, we have jobs, we have simplistic but sufficient security (food, clothing, utilities)...the only thing we lack is the ability to pay for some societal baubles and a ceremony.  

When I get angry lately, I have to cook something.  I don't always eat it.  A lot of the time I store it for lunch for work the next day.  But I feel the need to prepare something, anything.  Use my resources in a productive way.  This waiting for something I can't fix makes me feel like I'm not a good enough Christian woman.  I feel like every other unmarried Christian woman I've met is constantly saying, "Oh, some day.  I'm content in the waiting.  Resting in God is so very satisfying."  All I want to respond with is, "Allow me to call you on your bullshit."  

I don't think I can chop these onions any smaller.

Where do you see God working?

Patience.  Always patience.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're out of onions.  Now what?"

How do you see God working?

Giving us alternatives, prompting people to give Allen extra work.

Fact #51

Expectation will distract you into over-thinking, which paralyzes you.

One day, an ant asked a centipede how he always knew which leg he had to move next.  The centipede, perplexed by the question, responded, "Oh...I don't know.  I just always did it."  Afterward, the centipede began thinking so hard about the question, he couldn't walk anymore.

This was a little fable included in Wiersbe's book (On Being a Servant of God, in case you forgot) that gave me pause.  I am that centipede.  And that makes me squirm, because I hate centipedes.

When I was a kid, I thought the only thing you could die from was old age.  I was watching the news at my babysitter's house; I liked to play "grown up," thinking all grown ups carried briefcases and watched the news, and that was the extent of their day.  That night, one of the top stories was a shooting that happened in Green Bay, and a child died having stumbled into it.  In my five year old world, the only violence I understood was the acrobatics the Power Rangers used, or what gravity inflicts when tree climbing.  "Kimmy...the news is lying.  Kids don't die.  It's not their time yet."

Her face went grim.  "Ashley, honey, unfortunately kids do die sometimes.  Bad people do bad things.  That man shot those people."  I frowned hard at this.  "But that's dumb.  People shouldn't shoot people."  And then Kimmy said something that may have been too difficult for a five year old to reason with.  "Well, he was a very angry man.  But sometimes people have to do it for protection.  Your dad's a cop, and he has to shoot people sometimes."

The a lens on my rose-colored glasses cracked.  Daddy shoots people but he protects people but why do other people have to get shot to protect those people because sometimes people make mistakes and maybe if you just put them in a time out they won't do it again but does daddy need to go in a time out for doing his job?


My mind was reeling with this new understanding (or lack thereof).  It wasn't fair, in any sense, and I refused to change my mind.  I started getting angry when the news was on because I didn't want to have to see more death.  The majority of men in my family have served in the armed forces, and I suddenly couldn't trust them.  "What would you do," challenged by dad and my grandfather over dinner one night, "if someone was going to stab you to death, but you had a gun.  And you could shoot them and get away safely?"  I shook my head rapidly (I was around eight at this point), "No.  I can't.  They're still a person.  I don't know why they were going to stab me."  They began listing off a few things that could happen, but I couldn't let myself budge.  "No.  Not fair.  I can't.  They might change."

Of course, as aging occurs, you become more jaded and frustrated.  Thing's aren't so black and white.  Lately, though, I feel like being at seminary is forcing me to "re-grow up," almost as if my childhood didn't cover basic understandings of life.  Well, except sex.  Being in the U.S., I could have been born blind and deaf and still known what sex was.

Through all this re-growth, I am still head butting the same issue: anger and violence.  I feel like my understanding of things always fails to penetrate those concepts.  I'm meeting people who won't hunt, because it's "violent to the Earth," and feel it is a step back from the stewardship we are called as Christians to do.  Conversely, I also go to class with an ex-Marine, who is very much into justice and protection.  Heck, Allen just inherited all of his dad's guns (which still make me jump when they make that sharp clacky sound when he opens and closes them, whatever that's called) and wants to teach me how to shoot.

When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was love people and be friends with everyone.  I also wanted to be a detective, but that was just because I really liked puzzles, not necessarily for the Dick Tracy-esque action attached.  Then, however, I expected everyone to reciprocate.  I conducted myself in a particular way to emote a preconceived response.  I was kid, my understanding didn't go any deeper.  But now that's the trouble.  I know that I should love unconditionally and act accordingly regardless of that, but I still want people to do exactly what I expect them to.  When they don't, I become increasingly frustrated.

This week I've been realizing that I have no problem loving people I don't know.  It's the people I have relationships with that I have the hardest time serving.  If figure that, because they know me, or should, at least, than they should know how to treat me.  Especially if I know them to be Christians.  It's almost like there are levels to my expectation: the more you claim, the more I expect.  But I'm beginning to think that grace cannot function where earthly expectation dwells.  And that really bites, because essentially this means I am not as graceful of a person as I thought I was.

Where do you see God working?

In my head, sorting my thoughts.

What do you hear God saying?

"Thank you for making time this morning.  Let's do it again.  Soon."

How do you see God working?

Calmingly feeding me understanding, bit by bit.

Fact #50

“As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler; solitude will not be solitude, poverty will not be poverty, nor weakness weakness.” -Thoreau
                                             
A Thoreau quote seemed fitting for the setting I am in currently.  I'm sitting in the dining room, comforted by the quiet company of Cassy and Allen, Gregory Alan Isakov playing faintly in the background.  Nothing exciting happened today, nothing adventurous planned for tonight.  Just homework and cocoa.
  
I think, when we look forward, we often expect the future to be epic and romanticized; if it's not, we've somehow failed God's "purpose" for us.  We become wrapped up in our imagination so much that we begin rejecting reality.  Reality becomes the enemy, rather than a realm in which we see God work.           
But right now, in this moment, I'm incredibly content.  It's relieving.          
          
Where do you see God working?

Comforting me in this moment.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're going to be okay."

How do you see God working?

Unsure yet.  He seems to simply be allowing me to savor this moment.

Fact #49

Apology gifts should, in my opinion, be based on inside jokes.


I bought Allen a calendar.  He received the brunt of my frustration on Friday where is was not completely deserved (though he has conceded to having contributed to a portion of the problem).  Regardless, The Oatmeal created a 2012 calendar entitled 5 Very Good Reasons to Punch a Dolphin in the Mouth (And Other Useful Guides) and I knew it had to be his.

Next, I wrapped it in giant coloring pages, mainly because coloring is therapeutic, but also because I am finding fewer and fewer places to store a Princess and the Frog coloring book the size of a refrigerator door.

When he arrived at the apartment, true to form, he had presents of his own (chocolate and a Quillow his aunt made for me).  He loved the calendar, though his first response to the coloring page-wrapping paper was, "But we're not black."  And it was with those words that I knew everything was back to normal.

I apologize that these are short; I haven't been feeling very deeply introspective as of late.  I feel like God's been simplifying my life a lot, almost so the things I have to concern myself with are the things that are immediately in front of me.  As tense and exhausting as the past week has been, it's kind of relieving.

Where do you see God working?

In our relationship, re-stabilizing. 

What do you hear God saying?

"Not all is lost."

How do you see God working?

Reminding me that, even when I screw up, it doesn't mean he'll take what he's given me away as punishment.

Fact #48

10% of conflicts are due to difference of opinion and 90% are due to wrong tone of voice.


I've decided I have anger issues.  I panic easily, and within that panic, I respond in anger.

I really don't even feel like re-hashing what happened.  It's been talked about, resolved...about four times now.  Essentially, all you need to know is that I screwed up, and now I'm on the lookout for a good psychologist.  I think I inherited a lot of bad habits our family got into.  What I know is this: I do not want to be dragging those things into my future.  It's too precious to me.

Where do you see God working?

In my heart.

What do you hear God saying?

"Enough."

How do you see God working?

Bringing to sharp relief things I'm falling short on.  Anger is my iniquity. 

Fact #47

God never lets you forget your true yearnings.


I think I was going to write about something snarky and intellectual, but God isn't letting me, so here we go.

Last night, while I was working on homework, I got up to make some toast and get my tea.  Pandora was playing my Alexi Murdoch station; you can find his music featured in the film Away We Go.  Then his song "All My Days" came on.

Well many a night I found myself with no friends standing near
All of my days
I cried aloud
I shook my hands
What am I doing here
All of these days
For I look around me
And my eyes confound me
And it's just too bright
As the days keep turning into night

My stomach lurched slightly.  I have been missing Allen intensely the past two weeks.  He visits on weekends, and I usually see him on Sundays for church, but every time we have to leave each other, I break down in tears.  It may sound incredibly naive, but through the death of his dad and my grandpa...we've become each other's family.  I know several people who would balk at that idea; we're not married yet, I get it.  But when you both have to watch a family member die...things change.  Christians say sex changes everything, and yeah, not about to debate that, but death does too.  And I would argue that the change is, while not the same, just as intense.  When he leaves the apartment, all feelings of home and belonging leave with him.  And it's not something that can be recreated with a few game nights and study parties.

So I was in the kitchen, and those lyrics wafted in, gripping my heart and twisting my stomach.  I set my toast down and set my hands on the countertop.  

Now I see clearly
It's you I'm looking for
All of my days
Soon I'll smile
I know I'll feel this loneliness no more
All of my days
For I look around me
And it seems He found me
And it's coming into sight

Immediately, my stomach filled with butterflies as I had a flash of vision that I can't explain as being an imagined thought.  Nothing fancy, no intense color or seraphim...just a family, two parents, four kids, sitting in their living room, reading and playing a board game.  The thing that stuck was a feeling of intense warmth and fulfillment.  I fell to my knees in the middle of the kitchen, head bowed, hands clasped, eyes brimming.  "God, if that is meant for me, thank you," was all I could utter.  And to my core I felt I was answered.

As the days keep turning into night
As the days keep turning into night
And even breathing feels all right
Yes, even breathing feels all right
Now even breathing feels all right
It's even breathing
Feels all right

Where do you see God working?

I really don't know currently.  All I want is to be married at this point, but we can't afford to.  We've been trying to focus on the joy of being able to continue to grow, but it's getting harder and harder the busier and farther apart we get.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're throwing out what's good for you.  Stop.  Go back."

How do you see God working?

Patience.  Always patience.  Not a fan.

Fact #46

Play should never be sacrificed to the mirage of adulthood.

While the rest of our friends are getting married, starting families, solidifying careers...my roommates and I decided our main concern was finding the perfect apartment pet.  Enter Ralph:

Cassy texted me last night and asked what I would do if she brought home a bunny.  My response?  "DO IT."

So she did.  So today, Ralph and I decided to have a photo shoot.

I can't get over how adorable he is.  Screw becoming a cat lady.  Bunny lady all the way.

Dr. Price said he believes we don't play in ministry enough.  He's a huge into learning new games from people.  "Everyone likes to burst in through the front door of ministry.  I prefer the side door.  It's usually by the kitchen."  I couldn't agree more.

I've found more and more lately that it is so easy to lose our playful nature.  We become jaded, frustrated with the consistent struggle of providing for ourselves and upholding responsibilities.  How much of the work we put upon ourselves in necessary, though?  A lot of ministry we do is in the day to day, not in the huge events we prepare, the sermons we write, or the people we correct.  It's in the play.  

So I play.

Where do you see God working?

In my understanding of the function of money.

What do you hear God saying?

"Take only what you need.  Don't go overboard.  It'll trap you."

How do you see God working?

Keeping me from jobs that'll take precedence over daily ministry and preparation for ministry.  Providing the bare minimum so I learn how to function with the essentials.  Throwing me a few small diversions to remind me simple is brilliant. 

Fact #45

Redemption is not pitted against creation.


I've been really proud of myself lately.  I haven't brought my laptop to a single class (a habit that took a lot of willpower to break out of) and have actually felt myself grasping concepts I never could before.  My lack of computer usage, however, has also made my notes look like this:

The pictures, I suppose, stimulate my brain more and keep me awake...and some of them actually have to do with class, but when you catch yourself drawing suicidal leaves in fall and Jesus as Super Baby complete with cape...

Oy.

A couple of classes ago, we were talking about the doctrine of creation.  Essentially, we were discussing what the point of creation was, if people were beginning to think that salvation/redemption was for abolishing what God created.  Many are under the impression (based on a few off-campus discussions I've had) that God created a perfect world, Adam and Eve screwed it up, we were left to a crappy version of it, Jesus came to give us hope of the day in which he would come back, get his followers, blow it up, then make a new one.  Because of this understanding, people then assume that the laws and commandments we have had for centuries are also corrupt, so through Jesus we no longer have to follow them.

Of course, if you were to argue, "So we're allowed to murder now, eh?  Good, that librarian was a right wen-" they would slap you upside the head and send you to the nearest psychiatric ward.  Question their own sins (lust, dishonesty, pride, sloth, etc) and they offer that they are free through Christ's sacrifice.  Seems a bit like hypocrisy.  To clarify, I'm certainly not suggesting it's kosher to go around murdering people because we'll be forgiven via proper repentance.

Romans 6:15-20


What then?  Are we to sin because we are not under law but under grace?  By no means!  Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness?  But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness.  I am speaking in human terms, because of your natural limitations.  For just as you once presented your members as slaves to impurity and to lawlessness leading to more lawlessness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness leading to sanctification.


The habit people get into, I think, is qualifying sin by comparing it to sin.  "This is all going up in flames eventually anyway, so my sin isn't so bad...it's not breaking the law, at least."  What they don't realize is that it's eating away at them, and they won't recognize true salvation until they give that over to Christ.  Salvation, from my experience, is a continual process, not a singular moment.  Some may have a "conversion experience," as I had, but none of us will be perfect, devoid of sin complete, until God is finished with us.  And recognizing our natures, that'll take...just short of forever.


The Law was not abolished through Jesus, but rather given to man as a tool to recognize his own frailty and perversion.  God never made a "sin pyramid" for us to function within the limits of, purity is not something easy to come by, but that doesn't mean we should allow both understandings to render us complacent.


Where do you see God working?
Through my online class, lately.  Really hammering a lot of understandings I could never grasp before.


What do you hear God saying?
"Don't allow others' pride to bait you into your own."


How do you see God working?
Rapidly, wonderfully, now that I'm open to it.

Fact #44

It's easy to underestimate who God made you to be.


I retreat, and very quickly.  Like a cowardly ninja.

Upon my arrival to seminary I was extremely exited...and petrified.  The idea of my ignorance being revealed is possibly my greatest fear.  I am no brilliant theologian, nor am I advanced in years to credit any "wisdom" I may happen upon and luckily regurgitate in some eloquent fashion.  This idea fastened itself soundly to my heart as I met others in my classes who, now thinking about it, could have very well been worried about the same things.  But in my clouded lens, they all appeared to be intellectual adversaries of whom I had to conquer...one by one...systematically, and with a reassuring "Christian" smile.

In confessing my fears to Allen, Janèe, Dougal, and others, they reassured me that, while others may be stuck in their doctrine, argue and condemn, look down on the younger student (i.e. me), that God put me here for a reason, that honesty is all I could offer, and that it was up to me to then be honest rather than "right," whatever that looked like.

So I set mind and focused on being just that: honest, not "right."  I continued on with my studies, and instead of balking at an idea I would receive that would be contrary to a strongly promoted idea of one of my peers, I would offer it, humbly, but honestly.  And if I saw another student's idea that I found compelling, I would tell them so and thank them for it, whether I agreed with it in the end or not.  It's an intimidating place to be, where they ask you to send your very soul's conviction into a ring of others', seeing which survive.  Some people have grown up with a very specific, laid out foundation; I was lucky enough to have to create one myself, via trail and error.  Thank God the Spirit led me to solid people and convictions.

Somehow, in the process of learning how to do this, today someone told me I actually changed their way of thinking about some pretty hefty theological reasoning.  My mouth fell open; this man had run the Bible college odyssey, was a fair bit older than me, and had a thorough knowledge of theologians and their claims.  It would not have surprised me if he could have performed the entire Bible as a theatrical monologue.  And he was telling me that I changed his thinking.  God is showing me how to listen, so his message can be spoken through me.  Wow.

Needless to say, things are looking up.

Where do you see God working?
In my time; He's making me more and more aware of how I'm spending it, pushing me to get things done way ahead of time so I can actually enjoy the free time He is blessing me with.

What do you hear God saying?
"Wait.  Rest.  Restore."

How do you see God working?
Giving me motivation, running alongside me, highlighting exactly what I need to see, and, in doing so, making homework an exciting task, of all things.

Fact #43

I need more canvas.


I am running out of surfaces I'm allowed to paint on.  It's not like I'm making priceless works of art; I do this for catharsis.  Compared to what a lot of my friends are capable of painting, my results look like I had a seizure.  That's what I get for having art majors for friends.  Oy.  Vey.

But again, I do it because I know it's not something I can perfect.  Acting, sure, because God has revealed to me that it is something He has gifted me.  Painting, probably not.  But that's what makes it vulnerable, and genuine, and raw.  It's not a performance, I can't gloss over a mistake.  It's like it's my brokenness is being made tangible and now I have to confront it and pray over it.

I definitely need more canvas.

Where do you see God working?
I feel like he's closing a lot of doors, and waiting for me to fully turn away from them before he opens the new ones.

What do you hear God saying?
"That chapter is done.  Turn around, beloved."

How do you see God working?
As I let go of each thing one by one, he's allowing me to live more fully where he has put me, i.e. at seminary. 

Fact #42

Truth is Truth.


I had a friend ask me a question.  I did not immediately know the answer, but suggested we ask my pastor. Her response was, "Right...but he's pretty conservative being Southern Baptist, right?"

At the time, I had no retort, no witty response or wise counsel.  I nodded dumbly and changed the subject.  And that was fairly cowardly of me.

Truth is truth, God is all truth, and I certainly don't consider God to be partisan to any sort of political charge.  There is no "liberal" or "conservative" truth.  We can't brand it, manipulate it, or assign it.  Doing so keeps it from being what it is.  And if it is no longer truth, then the argument becomes moot...that is to say...no longer fact.

I had a high school teacher tell me once that it was foolish to argue about facts.  At the time, I didn't understand her advice.  It didn't make sense that anyone would argue about something that was obviously true or false.  But this is where Satan thrives.  Suddenly, what is black and white he makes grey.  And not just a few things.

You'll notice it with some people.  They'll start off the strongest of Christians, maybe not so gifted in tact, but always passionate.  Then, after awhile, they fall into a routine...don't read their Bible as often, go to church most of the time...maybe join a small group with an interesting topic.  I'm guilty of this, I'm describing a lot of my past behavior.  But, given enough time, they haven't been in a strong routine of accountability, study, or worship.  And then a few concepts become grey.  Lying...totally acceptable if it's for the "greater good."  Lust...fine if it's just a thought.  Marriage...not so sacred.  Bible...less inspired than previously thought.  Jesus...probably more human than God.

A few of you may be thinking, "Yeah...way to hop up on that soapbox."  I'm not attempting to jump from one conclusion to another.  You would genuinely be surprised as to how many times I have seen this pattern occur.  It starts off with a tiny little thread.  Then they pick and pick and pick...until their whole understanding of faith is unravelled.

Questioning is not wrong.  Being lukewarm is scarier than being cold; at least when you're cold towards faith you know dang well where you stand.  But when it comes to the point of not wanting to hear truth because you can no longer recognize it, even when its straight from the scripture you profess to believing...we have a problem.

Pray for my patience.

Where do you see God working?
In my heart, giving me courage to speak up where I see false teaching.

What do you hear God saying?
"Trust me.  I will tell you.  Listen and trust."

How do you see God working?
I feel like I'm being trained for a spiritual marathon.  It's just one thing after another, lately.  I love that my friends feel they can come to me, but...I'm not God.

Fact #41

"Your heart grows by giving out, but your mind grows by taking in." -Warren W. Wiersbe


I know I haven't featured Wiersbe's book (our textbook for this class) here much at all, but arriving to Chapter 19 I finally found myself nodding emphatically and wanting to take the man to coffee.

1) He praises Thoreau.  Anyone who sees the merits of that man is a friend in my book.

2) He breaks down the "large library" myth.  If you know me, you know that I have dreamed of my future library since I was exposed to Beauty and the Beast.  All of you know what scene I'm talking about.  The Beast opens up huge double-doors inside the castle, revealing an enormous, dark room.  Keeping Belle's eyes covered, he begins opening curtains, revealing domed ceilings with towers of books reaching all the way to the top.  And of course, when she is allowed to look, her mouth drops open, just as mine does every time.

Now, granted, I know there is no way I'll ever be able to afford even the acreage to cover a room to that scale, but I do have a fairly formidable urban-sized version planned.  And after reading this chapter, I realized it contained books I probably wouldn't touch after reading them, or half-reading them.  I'd tell myself Allen or the kids (someday) will find use of them...someday.  But that's a habit of mine.  I pack-rat things away, thinking I'll use them as costumes or props too...but of course that never happens.  If I do another show, I know God will provide us with the necessary materials.  He doesn't want me to live burdened by bulk.  And...as much as it kills me to say...an unnecessarily large library, even though trendy, may be more trouble than it's worth if not built with great consideration.

3) As Robert Murray M'Cheyne states, "Beware of the classics.  True, we ought to know them; but only as chemists handle poison--to discover their qualities, not to infect their blood with them."  Yes, it is wonderful to find merit in a large selection of books, but some, as he describes, "aren't the best tools in your hands."  He hardly suggests that you are not smart enough to read certain books; more of facing the reality that some things resonate with you more than they will others.

I realize this isn't a revolutionary idea, but I certainly never applied it myself.  I praised the classics without actually thoroughly reading through them myself.  I love Pride & Prejudice....the movie.  I could read The Old Man and the Sea a million times...so long as I'm in a coffee shop.  I've been planning to read The Kite Runner...for three years.

I would read anything someone tossed my way, especially in ministry.  And when asked, especially in leader meetings, what we "got out of it," I would totally make something up, usually something I read in another book.  Luckily no one asked me for a page number...and now I'm wondering if it's because a few of them were doing the same thing.

I have been worshipping intellect and presumptuous book collecting for a long time without considering what I actually like.  That ends today.  But to be honest, I'll probably watch Pride & Prejudice first.

Where do you see God working?
In my head, today.

What do you hear God saying?
"Be diligent in your work this morning.  I have things to show you."
Okay...so no Jane Austen today.  Check.

How do you see God working?
We'll see.  Unsure yet.

Fact #40

Things never go as you plan.


This is going to sound crazy-odd, but, had I had my way the first time, Allen and I would not be celebrating our real one-year anniversary at this very moment.

Thank God I lost.

I don't think I could live without this brand of insanity.

Where do you see God working?

In this relationship, for sure.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're welcome."

How do you see God working?

Teaching Allen and I how we function differently, so we can communicate and work together even better.

Fact #39

"When it is dark enough, you can see the stars." -Charles A. Beard


This was a quote featured in the book we're supposed to be reading for my Formations class.  I haven't quoted anything from it, because amidst all of the other thought-provoking material I have been bombarded with the past month, the devotional On Being a Servant of God by Warren W. Wiersbe struggled to stay at the forefront of my mind.  It's not a bad read, though.

It's been plenty dark here, as you've been reading, and my mind's already rebelling at the understanding that it'll be winter soon.  Less daylight = more insanity.  I honestly balked at the idea of leaving my weekend vacation with friends to go back to the seminary.  Having felt attacked spiritually, emotionally, and now mentally from all sides, the idea of giving up was, for the first time in a long time, starting to look like a rational possibility.  Maybe this seminary thing wasn't for me.  Maybe I should actually become a waitress, act on the weekends, passing along my screenplays for wary producers to read while I refilled their coffees.  Maybe the ministry assessment guy was right.  I am simply not strong enough.


No.

Whenever someone outright told me "you can't," "too hard," or "you're not x-y-z enough," it hits a point where I'm ready to give in, then someone, be it Bekah, Bethany, or my mom says, "You're kidding, right?"  and I go through with the plans, as scheduled, only to realize if I hadn't something profoundly God-centered occurs.  Pursued acting, won an award, spurred me onto Judson, despite skeptics due to my appearance.  Wrote Judson's first "serious one-act," inspired mass theological discussion on campus even thought my co-leader tore it down the night before our performance.  Applied to Northern and for a scholarship, received both against all odds.  God revealed himself to me and to others in each.  I believe God would have completed his work had I decided not to do any of these things...but then I wouldn't have been gifted such unforgettable experiences.  And I'm pretty sure God wants his children in on the adventure.

So, regardless of my feet dragging, I came back.  I put my things away, went to John, Rick, and Dougal's to watch some Dr. Who, and realized that, even if the gradual dark is disconcerting and causes me to fumble about, once I settle, it's actually pretty peaceful.  And one by one, the stars start revealing themselves.

Where do you see God working?
In solidifying my relationships here, at seminary, so I feel supported, not condemned.

What do you hear God saying?
"Rest in me."

How do you see God working?
By bringing up difficult subjects so I learn how to lean not on my own understanding.

Fact #38

There's a fine line between conviction and condemnation. 


"I want you to seek out a clinical psychologist.  Your depression is making you feel sorry for yourself."

My heart felt like an invisible hand were attempting to quiet it as it pound through my sternum.  After bashing my church, skeptically looking at my personality results, suggesting tact was really a lack of assertiveness, and disregarding my own attempts at mental wellness, he drops the D-bomb on me.

I had been aware of my tendency towards melancholy since Sophomore year of high school.  There was a reason sought out a mentor, Bekah, checked into a counselor for awhile, read books on conditions, and sought out strong friends.  There was also a reason I got the heck out of dodge, moving to an unfamiliar place to force myself out of my comfort zone, show myself I could succeed independently instead of allowing myself to feed off of the superiority I downright harvest in Kewaunee.  I haven't been studying the book Spiritual Depression for three months for jollies.  There is a reason this blog is titled "The Unfortunate Facts of Being an Earthling" instead of "Golly, I Love Life."  This world is broken, I am broken, and I recognize that.  I'm not about to lie to any of you.

So when he so blithely commands that I see a clinical psychologist, that I have clinical depression, I could not help but think, "Well, no shit Sherlock."

That's why I'm in seminary.  To grow and armor myself so I don't allow it to seep into any ministry I go into.  I focus on the humor in these unfortunate facts because light does shine through the cracks.  And I thank all of you for your encouragement, letters, and the occasional package (thanks Megan).

I don't think it's wrong to yearn for community, or to be honest when you feel stuck, or recognize that some classes you just don't have a voice in yet.  When I told my roommate, Caitlyn, how the assessment went, she laughed.  "You?  Not assertive enough?"  Then she prayed over me, asking God to refill me with love, and assurance in my calling.  And as the day went on, the dark clouds lifted, one by one.

I don't want to outright dismiss what the counselor had to say.  Perhaps I should check into a psychologist, just to keep me accountable of my head.  But I can't let this assessment allow me to forget that I received a full ride here for a reason.  God wouldn't be leading me into ministry if he thought I'd royally mess people up.  Dr. Quicke wouldn't tell me I had a "brilliant interview" if he thought I was incompetent or self-serving.  And I wouldn't be sticking this out if I felt sorry for myself every day.  I listen to show tunes, for crying out loud.

Ah, the joys of clinical skepticism.


Where do you see God working?
In my mind, bolstering it against condemnation.

What do you hear God saying?
Ephesians 4:29-32

How do you see God working?
With my support network outside of seminary, reassuring me I'm not crazy.

Fact #37

We can't possibly know everything.


I have been witnessing a lot of heated debates about the usual trending church topics: women in leadership, homosexuality, literal Bible reading, etc, etc...etc.  And you know what's missing from every single one of those debates?

Grace.

I have plenty of opinions and convictions about all of the following and then some, but I rarely communicate them unsolicited.  Conviction is meant to be considered and prayed about and researched.  It is not meant to be wielded with careless abandon.  And this is not another seminarian rant; I'm seeing it everywhere.

I feel like I'm white-knuckling my grasp on the fundamentals of Jesus' ministry as people attempt to rip me away from it to see things their way.  Since when did our options become enemy or lobbyist?  "You're either for us, or you're against us."  Uh, how about I'm not interested until the vein in your forehead quits pulsing?

Where do you see God working?
In my heart, as I discern what is a salvitic issue...and what is just annoying as hell.

What do you hear God saying?
"Stop living inside your head.  Hold on to your childlike faith.  Eyes on me."

How do you see God working?
Highlighting where Satan is attempting to divide, showing how to make peace, rather than simply keep it.

Fact #36

There are Pharisees at seminary.


I have a tendency to worship intellect more than God.  It's gotten better, as God has been revealing himself to me through things outside of the seminary...but outside of the seminary is not where my problem is.

One would think, after studying the Bible and doctrine and ministry all day, that you'd grow to be more patient and kind and loving.  Heck no, techno.

"That's undergrad thinking."

"Oh, but is it class-interesting, or small group-interesting?" 

"He wrote a good book, but he only teaches undergrad."

It's come to the point where I'm afraid to have friends visit, worried that they'll just be torn down.  Some of the most wise people I have met don't even have a basic college education, let alone experience in master's level coursework.  But they're still brilliant at what they do.  Yet those things aren't being respected.  It's as if they believe that the only way God recognizes you is if you work in a church, or work in affiliation with a church.  If that's true, I'm probably going to hell.

The term "pharisee," you probably recognize.  They're featured in the New Testament regularly as pompous bigots who stomped all over Christ's ministry.  In Hebrew, prushim means "separated."  In Arimaic, pĕrīshayyā means "separated ones."  In Christianity, while we are set apart, I don't think God called us to be separated.  And yet it's all I'm seeing.

Psalm 19:7  

The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul; the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple.

Proverbs 3:7 

Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD, and turn away from evil. 

Romans 12:16

Live in harmony with one another.  Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.  Never be wise in your own sight.

In my theology class, Prof. Bacote said, "Grace turns information into wisdom."  Grace is easy for God, who is grace, but we do have to try.  It is essential to our faith, it is demanded from our ministry.  I struggle with it (see Fact #35) plenty, but I do see enormous cause for concern here.  When I didn't feel welcome here right away, I assumed it was just me.  Now I'm wondering.

Where do you see God working?
In my discernment.  He's showing me who may be acting this way out of brokenness, and telling me to care for them gently.  He's also showing me who should know better by now.  Those...I have a feeling me might prompt me to speak against.  With just as much tact and care, of course, but probably not with a hug.

What do you hear God saying?
"Careful with this one.  You're right, but come to me first.  Patience...patience..."

How do you see God working?
He's begun blessing me with several strong women-friends.  We realized we were struggling very much in the same way, and it's calming to know I have a support network closer by.

Fact #35

Love doesn't always feel good.


Allen and I celebrated our 1 year anniversary ten days early, because we're both too busy next weekend.  We started Friday, with Mothership organic beer (which is a fantastic must-try) biscuits and gravy (they make vegetarian gravy now, so I was safe), puzzles, and an attempt at homemade crème brulèe.  I say attempted, because I realized halfway through I didn't have a torch for the crispy top, which in my opinion, is a necessity.  Either way, it's good, but so rich you can only have three bites a day, otherwise you feel like Violet Beauregarde.

Yesterday we got up early to make the 9:05 am train to Chicago, to go to a film festival being held at the Gene Siskel Film Center.  The film(s) we were planning on seeing didn't start 3pm, but we wanted to get a head start to take some photos, grab lunch and have tea at Argo, maybe bum around a few shops beforehand.

Of course, most of that never happened.

Regrettably, I am quick to anger.  It's not something I'm proud of, but it is a huge hitch in this whole "being a Christian" thing.  And while both Allen and I woke up on time, we did not make it to our train due to our differences in interpretation of the phrase "on time."

Allen's "On Time": Leave with the exact amount of time it takes for you to walk in at scheduled time.


My "On Time": Leave with a 30 minute cushion for Murphy's Law, an hour if it's a stressful situation, i.e. job interviews, meetings with profs, family functions, etc. 


We left for Allen's "On Time."  We arrived at the station, unsure of parking or layout, with five minutes to spare.  Bolting up the stairs, I realized we parked in a "Residents Only" space.  Allen sprinted to the car, and I waited on the other side of the tracks.  Five minutes later, he returned.  "You have my wallet." He grabbed it and laughed, sprinting back to move the car and pay for our space.  As he did so, the train arrived.  I called him.

Me: "Allen, the train's here.  You need to run under the bridge and get to my side."

Allen: "Wait, what?"  (sprinting sounds) "I'm coming as fast as I can."

Me: "A man next to me said to tie my shoe to stall them.  Please hurry."

Conductor: "Whoever you're waiting for better hurry up...we got a schedule to keep."

Me: "Allen, they're going to leave.  Please hurry."

Allen: (Click.)

Conductor:  (Impatient look.)

Me: Frustrated noise.  "Go.  Just...go."

Train leaves.  

Allen was on the other side of the train.  I exploded.  "Why can't we...ever...be on *cussing* time?!  Why?!"  I stormed off, knowing my rage was unwarranted and I was a loose cannon.  There were witnesses, of course, as any good tantrum requires.  

Time, for whatever reason, is infinitely important to me.  Waste mine, and you're a thorn in my side.  Poor Allen was mine from the moment the train left.

He didn't catch me until I made it back to the car.  We sat there, in thick silence, as I closed myself off and he hypothesized what he could have done better.  Allen makes the best of things, and I critique the worst of them.  It's how I knew I should date him; other guys I dated were just as pessimistic and hyper-critical as I was.  Past relationships were destructive from the inside and out.  Allen sparred me without fighting.  He lets me rampage until I run out.  And it's what he was doing this time, and it was driving me nuts.

Eventually, of course, I did chill out, and we found a hometown diner to sit at and wait for the next train.  We talked out the morning, I apologized, after some coffee, and became determined to have a restart.  "Well, at least we got our one mess up for the day complete." 

Wrong.  Dead wrong.

Several forgotten ids, overdrawn accounts, and missed appointments later, we came back home, hungry, tired, and defeated.

He and I both knew regardless of the frustrations of the day, they revealed a great number of things we had never noticed about our relationship that we had let slide, and much to our unaware detriment. 

For example, we stopped communicating spiritually.  We had had basic, "How was your day?" "What's going on at seminary/Judson?" "What did you think of the sermon?" conversations, but we had failed at asking the intentional question of "How is your soul doing today?"  When we got to it, it was like I was meeting Allen all over again.  

It opened up a lot of old wounds we thought we'd settled, because, believe it or not, couples argue, even the good ones.  There were tears and more yelling (on my part) and hard truths being pulled out that both of us thought we buried well within ourselves.  God was working and it was a bitch.

Somehow, after a lot of hugging, prayer, and grace (on Allen's part) we came out determined to work and grow.  This was hard for me to wrap my mind around, at first, because I had become so used to huge moments like this ending in a break up.  Instead, it ended in us attempting to eat the rest of our homemade cème brulèe, realizing without a crispy top, it hardly seems finished.

And so goes our relationship.  Unfinished, but still sweet enough to make you puke.

Much like this ending.


Where do you see God working?
In my pride and anger, slowly drawing it out like poison.

What do you hear God saying?
"I still love you.  But this will hurt."

How do you see God working?
By prompting Allen to tell me when I'm getting out of hand.

Fact #34

God doesn't let things lie until He's done with them.

This can be a wicked-frustrating thing; luckily this time is brilliantly awesome.

You know that song I said was playing when I was prompted by God to see what I was painting?  Ìllgresi?  These are the lyrics, translated from Icelandic to English:

You sleep till noon
You die but come to life
The leaves change their colours

You ache - get up and dress
In a raincoat - you keep going into the bleak day

You tear out heart-roots that you stamp on
With your hands in your pockets, been through enough
Walking in wet grass until

It shines on me through the branches
I look up and revive - the leaves change their colours

We feel warmth, create roots
Undress our hearts
We head towards a good day

We plant and we give life and we blossom
With our hands out of the pockets in earth you delve
Now we remove an ugly thought

Time will heal all things, gives life, kindles fires
Flames of the soul
No longer cold, start life again
My soul comes to life, paints the world


I don't have any words right now.  I'm still processing in awe. 

Where do you see God moving?
In all art, drawing me into a new sense of worship.

What do you hear God saying?
"I save the kicker for last.  You're on a grand adventure."

How do you see God moving?
With things I don't understand right away.

Fact #33

"Art is a collaboration between God and the artist, and the less the artist does the better."
                                                      -Andre Gide

Last night I had a major God-moment.  I'm still kinda reeling from it, so bear with me as I muddle through it.

I had been feeling a strong urge to paint for the past couple weeks, but "couldn't find the time."  You know the excuse; you actually have plenty of time, but Glee sucks you in with its catchy mash-ups and trendy conflict.  The reason, I now believe, I hadn't yet was because I wasn't ready to touch grandpa's paint set.

Dad bought grandpa a really nice paint set for a past birthday, but never had a chance to use it because his health tanked so quickly.  Grandpa was a great advocate for the arts, even if he projected more John Wayne than Van Gogh.  He had all of his kids involved in some sort of artistic expression, for my dad it was dance.  Grandpa himself was a painter.  His subject was usually seascapes, or at least, those were the only ones I had ever seen growing up.  We had one in our house for the longest time, before the divorce.  It was the beach, I think possibly by Lake Michigan, with a disgruntled looking seagull bracing himself against the wind on a dock pole.  On the bottom, right-hand corner, "Bill" is scrawled in all caps.

I couldn't bring myself to use the set because it contained too much of grandpa, the core of grandpa, the grandpa I was privileged to know, and I didn't feel worthy to try something he was so good at.  But last night God prompted me to the point where I couldn't ignore it anymore.  I got out the set and placed it carefully on a bar chair from the dining room, in front of the window.  It was night by then, but it still felt necessary to paint light despite the dark.  And in a way, it kept me from simply replicating something that was already there.  I had thought and argued with myself all day what it was I should paint, and now that it was out, I decidedly landed on keeping my mind as blank as the canvas.  I set my laptop on the table, and began the Sigur Ros album I just purchased, Med Sud Ì Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust (look for the one with naked people running in a field), and began praying as I slipped open the acrylics drawer.

What I assume was God prompted me to grab spring and emerald greens, deep brown and mellow beige.  I paused to take in my palette.  Scrape brown smear green.  Broad commands, but I followed to the best of my ability.  Add orange more red beige to the corner no too much back to dark brown now spread that out with emerald dot white and yellow more on top...

It went on like that for three hours.  When I got stuck, I paused to pray again.

Halfway through, the song Ìllgresi started, and for some reason, the words "indian summer" drifted in and out of my mind.  I stopped painting to listen.  Look... I opened my eyes and looked at the painting, and immediately had a lump in my throat.  I was looking at a wooded path in the fall, light coming through the trees.  Grandpa's favorite season was fall, but he always called it "indian summer."  In my gut, I felt like God was showing me his side of heaven.  I put down my materials and sat on the couch, crying.  Not tears of upset.  Tears of joy.

When grandpa died, I focused on healing, skipping over actual grief.  It felt like I allowed skin to heal over shrapnel, and God was now pulling it out.  It hurts now, but you'll heal fully this time.

The painting's still sitting on the chair.  I haven't touched it again yet.  It doesn't feel finished; I'll wait until I'm prompted again.

Where do you see God moving?
In talents and interests I haven't allowed myself to exercise since high school.


What do you hear God saying?

"He's safe.  You're safe.  We're both proud."

How do you see God moving? 
In nostalgia, realized.