Add “debate judge at Oxford” to my resume. What a day.
I wake to the sound of commuter cars whizzing by on rain-soaked roads. There’s a little window cut into the roof that slopes above my bed. It’s cozy being tucked under the eaves, like snugging down in a tiny attic hideaway. The bed is 30” wide, with a desk about the same width, and a 2” bookshelf beside an 18” closet. There’s a little shelf for a tea kettle by the miniscule sink. The whole room might be 8’X8’. Just perfect! I actually have two baths: one with sink and toilet is down the hall. The other with a bathtub / shower and sink is at the foot of the stairs near the door.
About 8am, I walk outside and a few doors down. First I tidy the kitchen so I can begin cooking the breakfast given us by Vivian, the B&B lady: bacon, eggs, toast, beans, tomatoes. One of the men has dropped his wet towel on the lounge carpet, so I loop it over a doorknob in the hall: that’s his towel for the week. (Surprise!) I lay out the toiletries scattered around the lounge on a windowsill, so when the students emerge and start looking for toothpaste and deodorant it’s easily found.
I wake the guys at 8.30. Ned has purchased crumpets, and he pops some in the toaster. The guys are tired, but recognize their advantage over peers who were binge-drinking last night. “For them, it’s a lose-lose situation. You can’t remember what happened, you have a horrible headache, and you spent $50 for nothing. Our heads are clear, and we didn’t spend a cent.” (Zeb) They used their drink tickets to buy pop. The big winners are pub owners and alcohol companies, who do a roaring business – many students don’t consider they’ve had a night out until they have had 3-4 pints of beer, according to Vivian. And the town kids hang out and drink in their own pubs, creating a cultural headache for all. There’s more to life, and these kids know it. The alcohol temporarily soothes the meaninglessness of today's secular and subjective values.
The students take a long time to get ready. As they push away from the table, the first one leaves his dishes for me to clear so I call him back with a friendly, “Don’t forget to put your dishes in the dishwasher!” and he sets the tone for the others. They shower, iron their shirts, and put lunches in their backpacks.
We get out the door a half hour behind schedule to start walking to the Union. It’s a good half-hour hike, and my legs are feeling the five-plus miles we walked yesterday. It feels good to stretch them out though. What a contrast to the sedentary and car culture we live in back home. I’ve walked further in two days than in the last two months in Seattle.
Once we’ve confirmed our teams’ attendance, I get money from the cash machine to pay for a second team – our two students have been permitted to compete as a second team. Oxford specifies that a school with two teams needs to provide a judge as well. That's how I get the opportunity to judge debate at Oxford!
On my way back from the bank, I take the long way around, admiring the stone spires and the shops tucked into C15-C19 buildings. The city council has wisely preserved much of the old buildings over the years. I’m reading “Oxford” by David Horan as an accompaniment to travel here, and he notes that a college building was torn down to widen the road… in 1779. I love the cobblestones on which busses, cars, cycles, and pedestrians squeeze through the streets. Blue name plates highlight historic events. For instance, we pass the field every day where Roger Bannister broke the 4 minute barrier for running the mile. I remember the story from a book I read when I was 12 years old, and it gives me a thrill to cheer him on when I pass the track 50 years later.
Back to the Union, I register at the judging table on the second floor and participate in two rounds. Both of my debates have excellent judging chairs: the first is an experienced Oxford debater and the second is a woman from Berlin with a mind like a sponge and a tongue like a velvet saber. She offers the students clear suggestions for improvement, based on the judges’ discussions after the round finishes.
The debate style is international Intervarsity Parliamentary Debate. Four teams of two people each compete in a round The first and third teams will debate for the motion (idea of the debate). The second and fourth will debate against it. The speakers alternate: one member of a team argues for, the first member of Team Two argues against, Team 1 (person 2) argues for, etc. The fourth and final team sums up the arguments against. It takes a long time for eight people to speak back and forth. The motions in Rounds One and Two were: “The House is in favor of deaf couples using medical technology to ensure their child is born deaf;” and “The House is in favor of Europe becoming one super-nation.”
Students have fifteen minutes to prepare a defense with their teammate. In these first rounds, the students have only five minutes to present their case. Usually, it’s easy to judge the top and bottom teams. The middle two teams are more problematic to differentiate if they are close in style or presentation. Sometimes it comes down to the whim or preference of the judges.
Northwest’s Team One scores second in the first round, but vacates their own room before we finish judging Round Two. Team Two scores third twice. By the time the second round is over, it’s 8.30, time for a late dinner. I see Team Two in The Mission, a little Mexican restaurant close to the Union, and they are tired and a bit disappointed. Jetlag hit in the late afternoon. They promise to do their best in the next series of debates tomorrow, regardless. They’re learning so much about the process and judges' expections. This will enlarge their view of debate forever.
As I listen, Northwest's excellence in academics, spiritual formation, and care for its students shines out. Though our worldview is not global like the Europeans and Asians, there's an awareness of God at work everywhere that is absent in the secular universities. I'm proud to be part of Northwest U - even at Oxford!
I head home before the final round, which won’t be over until 10.30 or 11pm. We're on our way early for an 8am debate breakfast in the morning. The guys decide to skip the round of parties tonight and head home to sleep.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
UK1: Touchdown
Five of us are on our way to England for two weekends of international debate tournaments. The first stop will be Oxford, and the second Cambridge.
The students, their coach and professor, and I have agreed to meet at 6am to leave for the airport. Tom, one of the students, is 25 minutes late and nowhere in sight. At 6.25, we take the shuttle van up to his apartment. He is just emerging onto the sidewalk as we drive up. He jogs back down to the meeting place where he has parked his car and loaded his suitcase. There is no explanation for lateness, and I am immediately on guard. We have both tight and flexible schedules on this trip. “You’ll have to watch him continually,” says Zeb, who is also on the trip. “He’s not that aware of things sometimes.”
We stand in the long security lines at Seattle airport. After we’re through, a few students grab a bite of breakfast. Our four-hour flight to Chicago will have drinks but no food. People balance coffee cups and breakfasts on their carry-ons as we board. Our latecomer also presents us with another snag. The zipper breaks on Tom’s backpack on the way in, so he rushes off to buy another one in the airport. He schleps along another supposed carry-on so big that the flight attendants must send it through as regular luggage.
Three of us sit in one exit row: the other two are behind us in another exit row. “Yes,” we say we are all willing and able to help passengers out the emergency exit should that be required. The flight is uneventful, the “Chicago-style” pizza the men order at O’Hare Airport is unmemorable (as are my wok-ed veges), and there are no hitches in getting to London. Some of us snooze, one sleeps deeply – sadly not me, in spite of an “8 hour sleep” pill. Two people share five center seats across the aisle, but they sit upright all the way to London, armrests down. I envy their potential space, but not their lack of travel-savvy.
Fortunately Tom’s bag arrives safely. We are so far behind the queue that nearly everyone has gone through—there is hardly a line. Immigration and customs let us into England without a fuss, so we head for the bus station. We catch the direct Oxford bus, which tours through drizzly hills and foggy vales before dropping us about a mile from the hotel. “Roundabout, second left, lovely, should have no troubles finding it,” and the bus driver leaves us and our luggage on the curb.
The men are not used to physical exercise, and walking is an effort for them. They sigh and mutter tiredly as we pull the suitcases past Magdalene Church (pronounced Mod-a-lynn) and the Oxford Rugby grounds. A sign announces the start of rugby classes for gifted youngsters, aged 8-14. What a prestigious club that would be!
It’s about 10.30am when Heather House comes into view. The landlady is chatty and takes us next door to the men’s flat. It is a tidy, unremarkable-looking house, with a beer bottle lying beside recycling bins off the sidewalk. “Won’t be any of that with our students,” we assure her. Insdie is a lounge and full kitchen with dishwasher and laundry washer/dryer, 2 bedrooms, and 2 baths. The fellow who takes the most effort in his appearance snags the bedroom with a blow-dryer in the drawer.
The initial plan is to shower, rest, have lunch, do some shopping, and register for debates, coming home for a nap if needed before the evening events. Despite a big lunch in Chicago and two meals on the airplane, the guys are too hungry to wait. Zeb has an organizing nature and asks if we can eat, then come back to shower. “It would work better if we didn’t walk to town and back to the hotel. We’d have to walk in later anyway, which takes a half hour.”
I don’t care much about what we do when. The goal is to get them food, shelter, on time to their assigned task – debate – with minimal stress. We walk a half-mile to shop at Tesco for basic food and shampoo (oh, the drama over choosing an acceptable hair gel). They are sleepy and lethargic and they’re not eager to carry the purchases. I probably would have heard no objection if I had carried them all myself, but it’s their food and toiletries, so I leave it in the buggy for them.
We pop up the street for donars (a Middle-East dish of lamb sliced into thin strips and laid into homemade naan bread), fish and chips (“It isn’t England without fish and chips!”- Ben), and my vegetarian kabab (deep-fried veges in the homemade bread). After the meal is cooked, the chef calls us to the cases at the front of the store, customizing our choices with sauces and sliced salads and vegetables. Absolutely delicious. I eat half mine and bring it home. The guys polish off their food. We pop into Boots drugstore – yay a hot water bottle for me, a few more beauty aids for the guys. They are reluctant to walk back to the hotel. Their feet hurt. I have to wait a few minutes on the corner for them to catch up. They want to clean up and rest before heading for town. To give them time to explore a bit on their own, we agree to meet at the Oxford Union at 4.30 to register before the 5pm deadline.
After a sound nap, I walk into town. It takes a half hour at a good clip – but the students are nowhere in sight. I wait a half hour at the Union before heading into the rain and wind to stand on a corner for another half hour. I’m hoping they’re not lost. The students have my phone and were going to top up my SIM card, but they haven’t been in the Virgin Mobile shop on the nearest corner. The staff is efficient, helpful, and friendly. They even call the hotel. Yes, the guys have called to see if I was there. No, the landlady didn’t think to ask for their number.
I stand in the cold, watching the people stream by at the end of a school and work day. Laughter, friends, young families, busy professors. When I am sure I won’t miss them because they aren’t coming, I head back to the Union, hoping they have arrived.
And they have, by a different way, minutes after I left. They haven’t topped up the phone, so I ask them to please stay in the Union while I do it. (Why were they late? They got distracted comparing prices for umbrellas.) The Virgin Mobile employees make short work of connecting me. The fellows’ feet are sore: two sit in the library, two relax in the entry. And I go to a nearby bookstore to browse the incredible selections and withdraw money to pay for dinner.
We have a 6.30 appointment in the Union to head out for dinner in the “Harry Potter” hall at Christ Church. Except that there is a change of plan and we will eat in their regular dining hall with students instead. In typical British fashion, the group is actually ready to head out the door by 7.15, following two students through Cornmarket Road’s pedestrian mall to Christ Church like a herd of cats on a long string. The porter stops us at the gate to call the dining hall, then waves us into the large courtyard. The profiles of the walls with student rooms above, classrooms below, are etched in stone shadows against the sky.
The dining hall matron was expecting twelve, not thirty-five people. “We booked thirty-five last week, in plenty of time,” the young debate student says politely. When someone asks what is going on, she turns to them with a smile and replies diplomatically, “They said we shall be in shortly. Not to worry.” A mere 20 minutes later we are seated in a fabulous space. One of the students can hardly eat: he is so overwhelmed by the grandeur of the life-size portraits on the walls, the dark wood beams that tower 40 feet above young people dressed in suits and formal wear, their faces glowing in light from the brass lamps on the thick oak plank tables.
The meal is a tortellini appetizer followed by salmon, tiny roasted potatoes, root vegetables in sauce, and a wonderful chocolate dessert. I eat mostly vegan – a zippy cold vinegar potato salad to start, roasted pepper with some mushrooms and eggplant as the entrée, and then I cheat with the best chocolate mousse I can remember. (By dessert, I’m tired of reminding the servers to bring a vegan option.)
The Union hosts a debate every Thursday. Today the topic is “The house says Britain should return to Christian values.” The Christians - a bishop, a member of parliament, a journalist, and an award-winning Oxford debate student, are polite and don’t push very hard. The opposition, well-known atheists and humanists, stereotype Christians as bigots who hate homosexuals, are war-mongers, and out of touch with the freedoms of real life. They shrug aside the House’s comments that the very freedoms we enjoy this night – including the privilege of debating – are possible because of Christianity’s value of every person. The Christians point out there is no freedom in atheistic states like Stalinist Russia, North Korea, or Cuba. The opposition waves it off to slam them with the ills of abortion (women will get slaughtered if we return to narrow-minded Christian values, they say). It is an eye-opening look at the closed thinking produced by rewriting history with a secular worldview. We are done by 11pm, but the students still want to go to the international debater’s reception and aftermath.
I drift through crowds of young people on the sidewalks. Many are dressed in pyjama style costumes, some skipping along in pink and leopard print tights – only undergraduates can think they are cool by looking this strange. I catch the bus home – it could be dangerous to be out in this neighborhood alone late at night, said the landlady earlier. “Oxford has changed, and for the worse,” confirming the arguments made by the House during the debate. The bus stops across the street from the hotel, and I am ready to hop in the shower by 11.30, bed by 12, writing until 1.30. I catch up on work until 2.15. My alarm is set for 8am.
The students, their coach and professor, and I have agreed to meet at 6am to leave for the airport. Tom, one of the students, is 25 minutes late and nowhere in sight. At 6.25, we take the shuttle van up to his apartment. He is just emerging onto the sidewalk as we drive up. He jogs back down to the meeting place where he has parked his car and loaded his suitcase. There is no explanation for lateness, and I am immediately on guard. We have both tight and flexible schedules on this trip. “You’ll have to watch him continually,” says Zeb, who is also on the trip. “He’s not that aware of things sometimes.”
We stand in the long security lines at Seattle airport. After we’re through, a few students grab a bite of breakfast. Our four-hour flight to Chicago will have drinks but no food. People balance coffee cups and breakfasts on their carry-ons as we board. Our latecomer also presents us with another snag. The zipper breaks on Tom’s backpack on the way in, so he rushes off to buy another one in the airport. He schleps along another supposed carry-on so big that the flight attendants must send it through as regular luggage.
Three of us sit in one exit row: the other two are behind us in another exit row. “Yes,” we say we are all willing and able to help passengers out the emergency exit should that be required. The flight is uneventful, the “Chicago-style” pizza the men order at O’Hare Airport is unmemorable (as are my wok-ed veges), and there are no hitches in getting to London. Some of us snooze, one sleeps deeply – sadly not me, in spite of an “8 hour sleep” pill. Two people share five center seats across the aisle, but they sit upright all the way to London, armrests down. I envy their potential space, but not their lack of travel-savvy.
Fortunately Tom’s bag arrives safely. We are so far behind the queue that nearly everyone has gone through—there is hardly a line. Immigration and customs let us into England without a fuss, so we head for the bus station. We catch the direct Oxford bus, which tours through drizzly hills and foggy vales before dropping us about a mile from the hotel. “Roundabout, second left, lovely, should have no troubles finding it,” and the bus driver leaves us and our luggage on the curb.
The men are not used to physical exercise, and walking is an effort for them. They sigh and mutter tiredly as we pull the suitcases past Magdalene Church (pronounced Mod-a-lynn) and the Oxford Rugby grounds. A sign announces the start of rugby classes for gifted youngsters, aged 8-14. What a prestigious club that would be!
It’s about 10.30am when Heather House comes into view. The landlady is chatty and takes us next door to the men’s flat. It is a tidy, unremarkable-looking house, with a beer bottle lying beside recycling bins off the sidewalk. “Won’t be any of that with our students,” we assure her. Insdie is a lounge and full kitchen with dishwasher and laundry washer/dryer, 2 bedrooms, and 2 baths. The fellow who takes the most effort in his appearance snags the bedroom with a blow-dryer in the drawer.
The initial plan is to shower, rest, have lunch, do some shopping, and register for debates, coming home for a nap if needed before the evening events. Despite a big lunch in Chicago and two meals on the airplane, the guys are too hungry to wait. Zeb has an organizing nature and asks if we can eat, then come back to shower. “It would work better if we didn’t walk to town and back to the hotel. We’d have to walk in later anyway, which takes a half hour.”
I don’t care much about what we do when. The goal is to get them food, shelter, on time to their assigned task – debate – with minimal stress. We walk a half-mile to shop at Tesco for basic food and shampoo (oh, the drama over choosing an acceptable hair gel). They are sleepy and lethargic and they’re not eager to carry the purchases. I probably would have heard no objection if I had carried them all myself, but it’s their food and toiletries, so I leave it in the buggy for them.
We pop up the street for donars (a Middle-East dish of lamb sliced into thin strips and laid into homemade naan bread), fish and chips (“It isn’t England without fish and chips!”- Ben), and my vegetarian kabab (deep-fried veges in the homemade bread). After the meal is cooked, the chef calls us to the cases at the front of the store, customizing our choices with sauces and sliced salads and vegetables. Absolutely delicious. I eat half mine and bring it home. The guys polish off their food. We pop into Boots drugstore – yay a hot water bottle for me, a few more beauty aids for the guys. They are reluctant to walk back to the hotel. Their feet hurt. I have to wait a few minutes on the corner for them to catch up. They want to clean up and rest before heading for town. To give them time to explore a bit on their own, we agree to meet at the Oxford Union at 4.30 to register before the 5pm deadline.
After a sound nap, I walk into town. It takes a half hour at a good clip – but the students are nowhere in sight. I wait a half hour at the Union before heading into the rain and wind to stand on a corner for another half hour. I’m hoping they’re not lost. The students have my phone and were going to top up my SIM card, but they haven’t been in the Virgin Mobile shop on the nearest corner. The staff is efficient, helpful, and friendly. They even call the hotel. Yes, the guys have called to see if I was there. No, the landlady didn’t think to ask for their number.
I stand in the cold, watching the people stream by at the end of a school and work day. Laughter, friends, young families, busy professors. When I am sure I won’t miss them because they aren’t coming, I head back to the Union, hoping they have arrived.
And they have, by a different way, minutes after I left. They haven’t topped up the phone, so I ask them to please stay in the Union while I do it. (Why were they late? They got distracted comparing prices for umbrellas.) The Virgin Mobile employees make short work of connecting me. The fellows’ feet are sore: two sit in the library, two relax in the entry. And I go to a nearby bookstore to browse the incredible selections and withdraw money to pay for dinner.
We have a 6.30 appointment in the Union to head out for dinner in the “Harry Potter” hall at Christ Church. Except that there is a change of plan and we will eat in their regular dining hall with students instead. In typical British fashion, the group is actually ready to head out the door by 7.15, following two students through Cornmarket Road’s pedestrian mall to Christ Church like a herd of cats on a long string. The porter stops us at the gate to call the dining hall, then waves us into the large courtyard. The profiles of the walls with student rooms above, classrooms below, are etched in stone shadows against the sky.
The dining hall matron was expecting twelve, not thirty-five people. “We booked thirty-five last week, in plenty of time,” the young debate student says politely. When someone asks what is going on, she turns to them with a smile and replies diplomatically, “They said we shall be in shortly. Not to worry.” A mere 20 minutes later we are seated in a fabulous space. One of the students can hardly eat: he is so overwhelmed by the grandeur of the life-size portraits on the walls, the dark wood beams that tower 40 feet above young people dressed in suits and formal wear, their faces glowing in light from the brass lamps on the thick oak plank tables.
The meal is a tortellini appetizer followed by salmon, tiny roasted potatoes, root vegetables in sauce, and a wonderful chocolate dessert. I eat mostly vegan – a zippy cold vinegar potato salad to start, roasted pepper with some mushrooms and eggplant as the entrée, and then I cheat with the best chocolate mousse I can remember. (By dessert, I’m tired of reminding the servers to bring a vegan option.)
The Union hosts a debate every Thursday. Today the topic is “The house says Britain should return to Christian values.” The Christians - a bishop, a member of parliament, a journalist, and an award-winning Oxford debate student, are polite and don’t push very hard. The opposition, well-known atheists and humanists, stereotype Christians as bigots who hate homosexuals, are war-mongers, and out of touch with the freedoms of real life. They shrug aside the House’s comments that the very freedoms we enjoy this night – including the privilege of debating – are possible because of Christianity’s value of every person. The Christians point out there is no freedom in atheistic states like Stalinist Russia, North Korea, or Cuba. The opposition waves it off to slam them with the ills of abortion (women will get slaughtered if we return to narrow-minded Christian values, they say). It is an eye-opening look at the closed thinking produced by rewriting history with a secular worldview. We are done by 11pm, but the students still want to go to the international debater’s reception and aftermath.
I drift through crowds of young people on the sidewalks. Many are dressed in pyjama style costumes, some skipping along in pink and leopard print tights – only undergraduates can think they are cool by looking this strange. I catch the bus home – it could be dangerous to be out in this neighborhood alone late at night, said the landlady earlier. “Oxford has changed, and for the worse,” confirming the arguments made by the House during the debate. The bus stops across the street from the hotel, and I am ready to hop in the shower by 11.30, bed by 12, writing until 1.30. I catch up on work until 2.15. My alarm is set for 8am.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
3 Books to read in a rocking chair
Ok, it's time to pass along some book reviews (books provided by the publisher). If you need some light reading and good stories, I'd recommend the following:
I enjoyed "Leaving Carolina". Time for some romance and schmaltz once in a while.
"Limelight" holds out hope that even when we're old and crusty, God can change things around and give us new perspective.
Book: Leaving Carolina
Author: Tamara Leigh
Piper Wick left her hometown of Pickwick, North Carolina, twelve years ago, shook the dust off her feet, ditched her drawl and her family name, and made a new life for herself as a high-powered public relations consultant in LA. She’s even “engaged to be engaged” to the picture-perfect U.S. Congressman Grant Spangler.
Now all of Piper’s hard-won happiness is threatened by a reclusive uncle’s bout of conscience. In the wake of a health scare, Uncle Obadiah Pickwick has decided to change his will, leaving money to make amends for four generations’ worth of family misdeeds. But that will reveal all the Pickwicks’ secrets, including Piper’s.
Though Piper arrives in Pickwick primed for battle, she is unprepared for Uncle Obe’s rugged, blue-eyed gardener. So just who is Axel Smith? Why does he think making amends is more than just making restitution? And why, oh why, can’t she stay on task? With the Lord’s help, Piper is about to discover that although good PR might smooth things over, only the truth will set her free.
Book: What Matters Most
Author: Melody Carlson
Sixteen-year-old Maya Stark has a lot to sort through. She could graduate from high school early if she wants to. She’s considering it, especially when popular cheerleader Vanessa Hartman decides to make her life miserable–and Maya’s ex-boyfriend Dominic gets the wrong idea about everything.
To complicate matters even more, Maya’s mother will be released from prison soon, and she’ll want Maya to live with her again. That’s a disaster waiting to happen. And when Maya plays her dad’s old acoustic guitar in front of an audience, she discovers talents and opportunities she never expected. Faced with new options, Maya must choose between a “normal” life and a glamorous one. Ultimately, she has to figure out what matters most.
Book: Limelight
Author: Melody Carlson
Claudette Fioré used to turn heads and break hearts. She relished the glamorous Hollywood lifestyle because she had what it takes: money, youth, fame, and above all, beauty. But age has withered that beauty, and a crooked accountant has taken her wealth, leaving the proud widow penniless and alone.
Armed with stubbornness and sarcasm, Claudette returns to her shabby little hometown and her estranged sister. Slowly, she makes friends. She begins to see her old life in a new light. For the first time, Claudette Fioré questions her own values and finds herself wondering if it’s too late to change.
Grab a copy, curl up with a warm blanket, and enjoy! RK
I enjoyed "Leaving Carolina". Time for some romance and schmaltz once in a while.
"Limelight" holds out hope that even when we're old and crusty, God can change things around and give us new perspective.
Book: Leaving Carolina
Author: Tamara Leigh
Piper Wick left her hometown of Pickwick, North Carolina, twelve years ago, shook the dust off her feet, ditched her drawl and her family name, and made a new life for herself as a high-powered public relations consultant in LA. She’s even “engaged to be engaged” to the picture-perfect U.S. Congressman Grant Spangler.
Now all of Piper’s hard-won happiness is threatened by a reclusive uncle’s bout of conscience. In the wake of a health scare, Uncle Obadiah Pickwick has decided to change his will, leaving money to make amends for four generations’ worth of family misdeeds. But that will reveal all the Pickwicks’ secrets, including Piper’s.
Though Piper arrives in Pickwick primed for battle, she is unprepared for Uncle Obe’s rugged, blue-eyed gardener. So just who is Axel Smith? Why does he think making amends is more than just making restitution? And why, oh why, can’t she stay on task? With the Lord’s help, Piper is about to discover that although good PR might smooth things over, only the truth will set her free.
Book: What Matters Most
Author: Melody Carlson
Sixteen-year-old Maya Stark has a lot to sort through. She could graduate from high school early if she wants to. She’s considering it, especially when popular cheerleader Vanessa Hartman decides to make her life miserable–and Maya’s ex-boyfriend Dominic gets the wrong idea about everything.
To complicate matters even more, Maya’s mother will be released from prison soon, and she’ll want Maya to live with her again. That’s a disaster waiting to happen. And when Maya plays her dad’s old acoustic guitar in front of an audience, she discovers talents and opportunities she never expected. Faced with new options, Maya must choose between a “normal” life and a glamorous one. Ultimately, she has to figure out what matters most.
Book: Limelight
Author: Melody Carlson
Claudette Fioré used to turn heads and break hearts. She relished the glamorous Hollywood lifestyle because she had what it takes: money, youth, fame, and above all, beauty. But age has withered that beauty, and a crooked accountant has taken her wealth, leaving the proud widow penniless and alone.
Armed with stubbornness and sarcasm, Claudette returns to her shabby little hometown and her estranged sister. Slowly, she makes friends. She begins to see her old life in a new light. For the first time, Claudette Fioré questions her own values and finds herself wondering if it’s too late to change.
Grab a copy, curl up with a warm blanket, and enjoy! RK
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Sitting on abundance
Our house is in a bit of upheaval over the past few months. Okay, actually... it is undergoing a complete transformation from traditional European-style decor to classic modern design.
One transformation in process is the family eating area. I started looking for new furnishings before we gave the kids our Queen Anne table and chairs. Someone sold us a heavy glass table with two glass V-shaped pedestals for $75 (the base retails for $500). The table sits on the like-new 10'X12' Crate and Barrel rug (a freecycle item we'd picked up last spring). We placed the 2 clear Ghost chairs used for extra seating in the DR at the table ends. I picked up four red molded stacking chairs. Funky, loved it, could have lived with it, but I kept browsing.
Spotting an ad for 6 wood stacking chairs, I called up the seller. He said they were in great condition, comfy, and $50 cash for all would be fine. We picked them up, with manufacturer's labels intact. My instinct was true: each chair sells for about $300 on the Design Within Reach website. We're sitting on God's abundance at each meal.
"Feast your eyes on the best design, the highest quality," my mentor said. "Then you will easily distinguish between what is merely good and what is truly wonderful." Developing an eye for quality doesn't come from looking at Woman's Day or Family Circle magazines. And we won't recognize good design if we surround ourselves with junk.
Our spiritual life is similar. It matters whether we read deeply in scripture or fill up with hyped sermons-on-tape and "lite worship." The depth of our character will reflect whether we wrestle with authors who plunge deeply into the life of faith or seek out pop gospel that slides off without challenging our worldview.
God is good. He is patient. And he lets us choose how we will develop our spiritual eyes and ears. Let's go for gourmet rather than fast-food and develop an informed palate that recognizes quality from mediocrity.
Read more:
*And he said, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." Job 1:21 NEV
*Lift up your heads, O you gates; be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The LORD strong and mighty, the LORD mighty in battle.
One transformation in process is the family eating area. I started looking for new furnishings before we gave the kids our Queen Anne table and chairs. Someone sold us a heavy glass table with two glass V-shaped pedestals for $75 (the base retails for $500). The table sits on the like-new 10'X12' Crate and Barrel rug (a freecycle item we'd picked up last spring). We placed the 2 clear Ghost chairs used for extra seating in the DR at the table ends. I picked up four red molded stacking chairs. Funky, loved it, could have lived with it, but I kept browsing.
Spotting an ad for 6 wood stacking chairs, I called up the seller. He said they were in great condition, comfy, and $50 cash for all would be fine. We picked them up, with manufacturer's labels intact. My instinct was true: each chair sells for about $300 on the Design Within Reach website. We're sitting on God's abundance at each meal.
"Feast your eyes on the best design, the highest quality," my mentor said. "Then you will easily distinguish between what is merely good and what is truly wonderful." Developing an eye for quality doesn't come from looking at Woman's Day or Family Circle magazines. And we won't recognize good design if we surround ourselves with junk.
Our spiritual life is similar. It matters whether we read deeply in scripture or fill up with hyped sermons-on-tape and "lite worship." The depth of our character will reflect whether we wrestle with authors who plunge deeply into the life of faith or seek out pop gospel that slides off without challenging our worldview.
God is good. He is patient. And he lets us choose how we will develop our spiritual eyes and ears. Let's go for gourmet rather than fast-food and develop an informed palate that recognizes quality from mediocrity.
Read more:
*And he said, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." Job 1:21 NEV
*Lift up your heads, O you gates; be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The LORD strong and mighty, the LORD mighty in battle.
Lift up your heads, O you gates; lift them up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is he, this King of glory? The LORD Almighty—he is the King of glory. Psalm 24:7-10 NIV
* For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the the thoughts and intents of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.
Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess.For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin.
Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. Hebrews 4:12-16 NIVSunday, November 1, 2009
I know just what to do
Some people have a lot of irons in the fire. The assumption is that they'll eventually get burned, taking on something hot without paying attention. I'm not so sure about that.
There's a specialization that comes from experience. My mom is better at running a household than anyone I know. She cleans a clean house and makes jam before her shelves are empty. Her warm hospitality and preparations means anyone can drop by at any time... and eat well, too.
My brother knows just what to say at the right time. He has a gift for attuned attention, telling people what is true in the way that they want to hear. The secret to his success in real estate? "Find out what they really want, not what they say they want... and give it to them."
Our friend Ed is better at diagnosing cars and getting them back on the road than anyone we know. He's blessed students and employees at the university with great service and fair prices. He's a practical, built it and fix it kind of guy with a wide-ranging skill set.
What do they have in common? They have practiced their craft. They know how to do what they are doing. Over long years, they get better and quicker... the work gets easier based on possibilities honed by experience.
Whatever our latest interest, my husband and I have books beside the bed explaining others' experiences and advice. By the time we try a new venture, we have researched and watched people's shortcuts and ideas. W knows about bicycles, construction, houseboats, electronics, theology. I understand design and decor, crafts, food, writing, music, and connecting people.
With each new acquisition, the other projects are easier to start -- or harder. We know what's involved, and that it takes more rather than less time to accomplish a worthwhile goal. What a relief when we're at wit's end, looking for help, and someone else walks by and says, "I know just what to do."
Read more:
*He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8 NIV
*Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the evil man his thoughts. Let him turn to the LORD, and he will have mercy on him, and to our God, for he will freely pardon.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.
As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:6-11 NIV
*(Jesus said,) Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you. Luke 6:37-38
There's a specialization that comes from experience. My mom is better at running a household than anyone I know. She cleans a clean house and makes jam before her shelves are empty. Her warm hospitality and preparations means anyone can drop by at any time... and eat well, too.
My brother knows just what to say at the right time. He has a gift for attuned attention, telling people what is true in the way that they want to hear. The secret to his success in real estate? "Find out what they really want, not what they say they want... and give it to them."
Our friend Ed is better at diagnosing cars and getting them back on the road than anyone we know. He's blessed students and employees at the university with great service and fair prices. He's a practical, built it and fix it kind of guy with a wide-ranging skill set.
What do they have in common? They have practiced their craft. They know how to do what they are doing. Over long years, they get better and quicker... the work gets easier based on possibilities honed by experience.
Whatever our latest interest, my husband and I have books beside the bed explaining others' experiences and advice. By the time we try a new venture, we have researched and watched people's shortcuts and ideas. W knows about bicycles, construction, houseboats, electronics, theology. I understand design and decor, crafts, food, writing, music, and connecting people.
With each new acquisition, the other projects are easier to start -- or harder. We know what's involved, and that it takes more rather than less time to accomplish a worthwhile goal. What a relief when we're at wit's end, looking for help, and someone else walks by and says, "I know just what to do."
Read more:
*He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8 NIV
*Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the evil man his thoughts. Let him turn to the LORD, and he will have mercy on him, and to our God, for he will freely pardon.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.
As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:6-11 NIV
*(Jesus said,) Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you. Luke 6:37-38
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Fit to serve
Hannah Whitall Smith was a practical mystic. She wrote about the mysterious transformation in a person's interior life that resulted in external changes. She claimed that love for God colored the perception of everything in life. Duty became a privilege, and drudgery turned to joyful service.
Hannah said there was no place for insecurity in God's work. He chose the right tool for the job: if he put us in place it was because we were a good fit for the task. He would give us the interest and the ability to accomplish his purposes. Our responsibility was to follow him with all our hearts and do the work at hand with all our might. As we heard his voice, he would move us into place.
The hardest work can be finding a fit. The lucky ones ease into a niche we love, like my husband who gathers information, sorts it, uses it, and passes it on. W teaches in all his fields of interest, from theology to technology to building. He loves to learn new skills. He revels in the classroom. But he has also crafted much of our home with his own hands and is building a cabin piece by piece. He reads the books, gathers the tools, processes the information into useful abilities, and shares his insights and resources with anyone who asks.
My brother is a musician. He played violin from age 5, but fell in love with band instruments in Grade 6. Anything he's done outside music seems like a chore and a bore. Hand him any instrument, a blank book of staff paper (or a computer composer program), a conductor's baton, and an upcoming concert, and he's energized. The arrangements in his head transfer into fabulous sounds as the orchestra or choir comes alive under his direction. The beauty of living in Europe and his interactions with people find expression in his music.
Life is uneven, and God made us as it pleased himself, tools for purposes he has chosen. Some have many gifts and interests. Others are narrowly focused. Billy Graham is often touted as a model of success because he did one and only one thing he was called to do. In contrast, some people touch many others in constant waves of activity, moving through many venues at different times and with multiple talents.
Whether we are good at one thing or many, some are instantly capable while others work laboriously toward competence. Watching someone "sail through life" with seeming ease while we are struggling for every breath may make us doubt ourselves. Watching others weigh every move when we are ready to spring into action can make us impatient or frustrated. Some people stay in a job for a lifetime. Others gets restless after a few years and need new challenges.
"Envy rots the bones," says a proverb. Another adviser counsels, "Be content with what you have." The quick pace of a person who moves from success to success may mask the creative struggle behind every win. The slow thoughtfulness of a perfectionist may blur the steady flow of accomplishments in everything they touch. Who can say which is better? We need all gifts and all voices to understand God moving through the world.
What are we good at? Where is God putting us to best use? Who needs our encouragement and applause, even though they are very different than we?
Read more:
*(Hannah Whitall Smith) "We are so utterly helpless that no matter how careful we were, our service would amount to nothing. What have we to do with thinking whether we are fit or not fit for service? The Master-workman surely has a right to use any tool He pleases for His own work, and it is plainly not the business of the tool to decide whether it is the right one to be used or not... If He chooses to use us, of course we must be fit... His strength is made perfect, not in our strength, but in our weakness. Our strength is only a hindrance."
*A student is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the student to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. Matthew 10:24-25 NIV
*Who are you to pass judgment on another’s servant? Before his own master he stands or falls. And he will stand, for the Lord is able to make him stand.
One person regards one day holier than other days, and another regards them all alike. Each must be fully convinced in his own mind. The one who observes the day does it for the Lord. The one who eats, eats for the Lord because he gives thanks to God, and the one who abstains from eating abstains for the Lord, and he gives thanks to God. For none of us lives for himself and none dies for himself. If we live, we live for the Lord; if we die, we die for the Lord. Therefore, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. Romans 4:4-8 NET
Hannah said there was no place for insecurity in God's work. He chose the right tool for the job: if he put us in place it was because we were a good fit for the task. He would give us the interest and the ability to accomplish his purposes. Our responsibility was to follow him with all our hearts and do the work at hand with all our might. As we heard his voice, he would move us into place.
The hardest work can be finding a fit. The lucky ones ease into a niche we love, like my husband who gathers information, sorts it, uses it, and passes it on. W teaches in all his fields of interest, from theology to technology to building. He loves to learn new skills. He revels in the classroom. But he has also crafted much of our home with his own hands and is building a cabin piece by piece. He reads the books, gathers the tools, processes the information into useful abilities, and shares his insights and resources with anyone who asks.
My brother is a musician. He played violin from age 5, but fell in love with band instruments in Grade 6. Anything he's done outside music seems like a chore and a bore. Hand him any instrument, a blank book of staff paper (or a computer composer program), a conductor's baton, and an upcoming concert, and he's energized. The arrangements in his head transfer into fabulous sounds as the orchestra or choir comes alive under his direction. The beauty of living in Europe and his interactions with people find expression in his music.
Life is uneven, and God made us as it pleased himself, tools for purposes he has chosen. Some have many gifts and interests. Others are narrowly focused. Billy Graham is often touted as a model of success because he did one and only one thing he was called to do. In contrast, some people touch many others in constant waves of activity, moving through many venues at different times and with multiple talents.
Whether we are good at one thing or many, some are instantly capable while others work laboriously toward competence. Watching someone "sail through life" with seeming ease while we are struggling for every breath may make us doubt ourselves. Watching others weigh every move when we are ready to spring into action can make us impatient or frustrated. Some people stay in a job for a lifetime. Others gets restless after a few years and need new challenges.
"Envy rots the bones," says a proverb. Another adviser counsels, "Be content with what you have." The quick pace of a person who moves from success to success may mask the creative struggle behind every win. The slow thoughtfulness of a perfectionist may blur the steady flow of accomplishments in everything they touch. Who can say which is better? We need all gifts and all voices to understand God moving through the world.
What are we good at? Where is God putting us to best use? Who needs our encouragement and applause, even though they are very different than we?
Read more:
*(Hannah Whitall Smith) "We are so utterly helpless that no matter how careful we were, our service would amount to nothing. What have we to do with thinking whether we are fit or not fit for service? The Master-workman surely has a right to use any tool He pleases for His own work, and it is plainly not the business of the tool to decide whether it is the right one to be used or not... If He chooses to use us, of course we must be fit... His strength is made perfect, not in our strength, but in our weakness. Our strength is only a hindrance."
*A student is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the student to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. Matthew 10:24-25 NIV
*Who are you to pass judgment on another’s servant? Before his own master he stands or falls. And he will stand, for the Lord is able to make him stand.
One person regards one day holier than other days, and another regards them all alike. Each must be fully convinced in his own mind. The one who observes the day does it for the Lord. The one who eats, eats for the Lord because he gives thanks to God, and the one who abstains from eating abstains for the Lord, and he gives thanks to God. For none of us lives for himself and none dies for himself. If we live, we live for the Lord; if we die, we die for the Lord. Therefore, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. Romans 4:4-8 NET
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Letting go
Amputations are painful. The most curious and devastating effect is the "ghost limb" that continues to itch and irritate.
"That's the one!" my mentor had said, pointing to "Orchestra Pianist" on my checklist of possibilities. We were working through a ministry change, and Margaret insisted I drop activities to take on a leadership challenge.
My heart sank. The orchestra was a weekly family of 30-50 musicians. I had finally learned to sightread, dragged along the score by French horns, violins, and oboes. Now I was to give it up for a new direction.
It took two years of conscious effort to clap and sing with a congregation. I had played piano constantly as a teen and adult, so my fingers daydreamed runs and chords on my lap when we sat and tapped on the back of the pew ahead of me when we stood. My feet still conducted and pedaled the complexities that helped me keep the beat at the piano. But it was a phantom movement. No keyboard sat nearby and no metal feet braced mine for almost a decade.
Then another opportunity opened, and again I practiced (still disliked that as much as ever), played, and breathed music. I fell in love with the choir and looked forward to being part of their community.
Now, after two years, I'm reassigned. Pulling back. Putting aside this season of music to study and work. No more taping pages together because I'm a horrible page-turner. No Wednesday rehearsal and early Sunday run-through. No settling on the bench and letting my fingers decide the patterns for sounds streaming through my inner ear.
It is time to let go. To clap and sing. To tap and wait. To listen and write. To plan and create. To balance and rest.
Ah, but I dread the itch and the irritation of the amputated limb.
Read more:
So what do people get in this life for all their hard work and anxiety? Their days of labor are filled with pain and grief; even at night their minds cannot rest. It is all meaningless. Ecclesiastes 2:22–23 NLT
*And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Isaiah 30:21
*So we don't look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever. 2 Corinthians 4:18 NLT
* Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Philippians 4:8 NIV
"That's the one!" my mentor had said, pointing to "Orchestra Pianist" on my checklist of possibilities. We were working through a ministry change, and Margaret insisted I drop activities to take on a leadership challenge.
My heart sank. The orchestra was a weekly family of 30-50 musicians. I had finally learned to sightread, dragged along the score by French horns, violins, and oboes. Now I was to give it up for a new direction.
It took two years of conscious effort to clap and sing with a congregation. I had played piano constantly as a teen and adult, so my fingers daydreamed runs and chords on my lap when we sat and tapped on the back of the pew ahead of me when we stood. My feet still conducted and pedaled the complexities that helped me keep the beat at the piano. But it was a phantom movement. No keyboard sat nearby and no metal feet braced mine for almost a decade.
Then another opportunity opened, and again I practiced (still disliked that as much as ever), played, and breathed music. I fell in love with the choir and looked forward to being part of their community.
Now, after two years, I'm reassigned. Pulling back. Putting aside this season of music to study and work. No more taping pages together because I'm a horrible page-turner. No Wednesday rehearsal and early Sunday run-through. No settling on the bench and letting my fingers decide the patterns for sounds streaming through my inner ear.
It is time to let go. To clap and sing. To tap and wait. To listen and write. To plan and create. To balance and rest.
Ah, but I dread the itch and the irritation of the amputated limb.
Read more:
So what do people get in this life for all their hard work and anxiety? Their days of labor are filled with pain and grief; even at night their minds cannot rest. It is all meaningless. Ecclesiastes 2:22–23 NLT
*And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Isaiah 30:21
*So we don't look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever. 2 Corinthians 4:18 NLT
* Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Philippians 4:8 NIV
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Decluttering the terreplein
MW Word of the day terreplein: \TAIR-uh-playn\ noun
Meaning: the level space behind a parapet of a rampart where guns are mounted
"Share my yoke with me - it's bearable and we will pull it together," said Jesus.
We've all seen people staggering under stuff that had nothing to do with Jesus' yoke. Stressed, burdened down, stretched almost to breaking, we can't figure out why life is so hard. Where is the joyful abundance Jesus promises? The spiritual terreplein where our gifts and strengths reside is so cluttered with inessentials and obligations that we fear burnout. Sometimes we doubt that the Christian life is worth living. Stress and fatigue threaten to overtake God's offer of joy and peace.
"Does this belong to you?" I learned to ask when talking to people about their responsibilities. "Is this something people expect of you, or is this something God is asking of you?"
We all hope to serve well. But circumstances and seasons come and go: even things we did with great anticipation need to be reevaluated regularly. Ministers and "good" Christians seem to have the hardest time saying no or quitting when their time to serve ends.
For me, this season of life belongs to service at Northwest and study. I've gifted away craft supplies, cleared space for academics, and said no to many things. Yet I'm wearing down physically, spiritually, and emotionally. I'm crabby, stressed, and maxed out. Friendships, time for prayer and spiritual refreshment, and my academic writing have suffered. What's going on?
I recently read a wonderful article by Angela Craig about setting "the good" aside for "the best." Angela is a smart, funny, young minister who has many choices of service because of multiple gifts. She wrote about her intentionality for finding God's direction through the thrilling maze of possibilities.
Listening to God in prayer today, I heard the still small Voice giving me advice I have given others, "Evaluate each part of life. Is this what I am asking you to do? Are you willing to say 'no' or 'not now, sorry!' to everything else? (EVERYTHING else?!) Or are you stubbornly going to suffer by keeping a hand in everything you want to do?"
Sigh. What kind of answer can we give to such questions? God gives us fair warning in scripture that life belongs to him. He designates 24 hours to each person, with work, rest, and relationships in balance. When we're out of whack, it is our own doing.
"I wish I had 26 hours a day," someone said to me at the minister's retreat last week. EEEK. No thank you.
This week I'm in strict tandem training, learning what the easy yoke feels like. It feels so unfamiliar that it will take a while to rework my posture to accept it, but I'm game to try!
What do you need to shed in your life, maybe just for autumn, but maybe for good?
Read more:
*Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the LORD's hand double for all her sins.
*No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.
1 Corinthians 10:13 NLT
Meaning: the level space behind a parapet of a rampart where guns are mounted
"Share my yoke with me - it's bearable and we will pull it together," said Jesus.
We've all seen people staggering under stuff that had nothing to do with Jesus' yoke. Stressed, burdened down, stretched almost to breaking, we can't figure out why life is so hard. Where is the joyful abundance Jesus promises? The spiritual terreplein where our gifts and strengths reside is so cluttered with inessentials and obligations that we fear burnout. Sometimes we doubt that the Christian life is worth living. Stress and fatigue threaten to overtake God's offer of joy and peace.
"Does this belong to you?" I learned to ask when talking to people about their responsibilities. "Is this something people expect of you, or is this something God is asking of you?"
We all hope to serve well. But circumstances and seasons come and go: even things we did with great anticipation need to be reevaluated regularly. Ministers and "good" Christians seem to have the hardest time saying no or quitting when their time to serve ends.
For me, this season of life belongs to service at Northwest and study. I've gifted away craft supplies, cleared space for academics, and said no to many things. Yet I'm wearing down physically, spiritually, and emotionally. I'm crabby, stressed, and maxed out. Friendships, time for prayer and spiritual refreshment, and my academic writing have suffered. What's going on?
I recently read a wonderful article by Angela Craig about setting "the good" aside for "the best." Angela is a smart, funny, young minister who has many choices of service because of multiple gifts. She wrote about her intentionality for finding God's direction through the thrilling maze of possibilities.
Listening to God in prayer today, I heard the still small Voice giving me advice I have given others, "Evaluate each part of life. Is this what I am asking you to do? Are you willing to say 'no' or 'not now, sorry!' to everything else? (EVERYTHING else?!) Or are you stubbornly going to suffer by keeping a hand in everything you want to do?"
Sigh. What kind of answer can we give to such questions? God gives us fair warning in scripture that life belongs to him. He designates 24 hours to each person, with work, rest, and relationships in balance. When we're out of whack, it is our own doing.
"I wish I had 26 hours a day," someone said to me at the minister's retreat last week. EEEK. No thank you.
This week I'm in strict tandem training, learning what the easy yoke feels like. It feels so unfamiliar that it will take a while to rework my posture to accept it, but I'm game to try!
What do you need to shed in your life, maybe just for autumn, but maybe for good?
Read more:
*Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the LORD's hand double for all her sins.
A voice of one calling: "In the desert prepare the way for the LORD; make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God. Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain.
And the glory of the LORD will be revealed, and all mankind together will see it. For the mouth of the LORD has spoken. Isaiah 40:1-5 NIV*No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.
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