New Rhythms

In the past month, I have stepped into a life and rhythm quite distinct from what I have ever before encountered.

Case in point: I am writing this post on a metra train northbound from Chicago, rolling in at 1:30am. It's almost bed time, a full 12 hours since I left my cozy suburban apartment for a day's work in the city. Welcome to my new normal.

I have undergone more major life transitions this semester ever before: Seven years of post-high-school education accomplished. Goodbye 18-month internship, coworkers and counseling clients. So long classmates, study sessions, textbooks and large chunks of free time in the middle of my day. No more need to cram endless productivity into finite hours. Goodbye nannying/house-cleaning/dog-sitting patchwork income; hello full-time work of the clock in/clock out variety. Step back from volunteer youth ministry; refocus on intentional relationships discipleship. No more dorm rooms, on-campus housing and community kitchen; now it's time for paying rent, permanent address and taxes.  This all occurring within the span of just a few months.

This young professional twenty-something finds herself stepping out into a life she's never known, like a land-lubber trying on her sea legs. Part of me grieves the change; part of me is quietly excited. In my personal musings, the realization hit: In this new rhythm of life, I have the privilege in meeting God in a brand new way. I get to encounter new people made in God's image, uniquely refracting His self-expression. I have the joy of learning to depend on Him daily. I am learning to experience rest and take a fresh look at what it means to steward my time.

Change is painful, but it is also a privilege. I've experience a lot in my young life, but so far I have only ever been a full-time student. Now I feel as if these past two decades were mere prologue, and the real adventure is just now beginning.

Where is God when our leaders fail?

 Newspapers in the area have vehemently picked up the story of another clergy member abusing a minor.
One story of abuse is one too many, but the instance is exceptionally disturbing when the perpetrator is a pastor. This person is supposed to be a representative of God in a broken world, but instead he betrays his friends and his flock in the most heinous way. For those who knew him personally, for those who heard him exhort, encourage, pray, and preach the word of God with conviction, this news can uncover questions of faith-shaking proportions. How can someone, by all claims and appearances, know God and yet perpetrate evil? What does this say about the redemptive work of the Holy Spirit in a believer's life? Or is everything I've heard a lie? Some people would choose to believe so, and point to this instance as yet another example of the hypocrisy of Christianity. I have to admit that those thoughts have crossed my mind as well. At the end of it, though, I don't think Christians need to be embarrassed by these instances, as if the failings of our leaders have any bearing on the truths they taught us. Rather, this is a story that is repeated far too often, but it only serves to confirm the gospel each time.

 We are seriously messed up human beings. If a pastor whom so many people respect can act this way, what does that say about me and my capacity for sin? This situation is proof that no amount of study, no vocational calling, no degree of success can protect us from ourselves. We are completely inept at maintaining moral purity and we have a desperate need for divine intervention. Religion does not cause these atrocities. These events only serve to draw our attention to the basic assumptions that atheists still makes on a daily basis:

A. There is a way the world ought to be. ( Example: Pastors should live in honest and uplifting fellowship with their members).

B. The world is not the way it should be.  This is not a matter of moral preference, but of very definite reality, a moral universal law.

C. We ought to be held accountable for our actions.

D. Justice must be served.

E. Human justice is not enough. (Dispensation of human justice does not erase the devastation this man caused in the life of the victim or the church community.)

If no God exists to save us from this dilemma, then we are truly hopeless.

It would be easy to doubt God in situations like this. It would be easy to blame Him and curse him, because those who were supposed to be His representatives have done a pitiful job. In one pastor's failing we see the age-old problem of evil arrayed in modern robes. But instead of asking why God allowed this to happen, we must consider how this situation points us back to God; how the existence of evil is actually evidence for God.

This is a God who holds us accountable.

 who hates sin

who dispenses justice

who promises evil's annihilation.

But he goes beyond even that. Our God is not only a God who has power over evil, but who stepped into it.  This is a God who became human, 

who endured suffering and hatred.

who bore with injustice

who offers forgiveness

who modeled humanity as it was meant to be

who makes restoration possible

who faithfully brings good out of every bad situation

who took on Himself the cataclysmic consequence of humanity's sin, so that we might step into the incorruptible glory of Divinity. .

Sickening situations like these will arise, and in each one I have a choice. I can walk away from what I've been taught, reject faith, turn into myself and try to find my own answers for the atrocities in this world. But I am already well acquainted with human frailty; I'll find no satisfactory answers down that road. Or I can retreat to the arms of the only One I know to be true and stable in this world. When everything is turned upside down, I have nowhere else to turn. 

in memory and in hope

Two years ago this week, my nephews Phineas Jon and Abraham Steven met Jesus before they were born, at 24 weeks gestational age.

They ran into the arms of their Heavenly Father before their earthly parents got a chance to see their smiles or hear their laughter. And although since then the Lord certainly has Multiplied our Joy (the precious gift of my niece, Josephine Joy), still the hole in our lives remain; memories of twin moppy-haired, brown-eyed toddlers fill the heart of this out-of-town auntie--memories left unmade.  I adore my ten-month-old niece and wouldn't trade her for all the world, and yet it is impossible to not wonder about the would have beens. All of our anticipation and dreams and excited giggles waiting for these two boys were shattered in a moment. 

When some people think of miscarriage or stillbirth, they think of it as merely a great disappointment, one of life's major let-downs that will pass with time and more children. I suppose I did, too, before August 2013. Then I learned that the weight of all those unformed memories is an insurmountable and inarticulate grief. Those lives are unique and irreplaceable; their names and faces will never be forgotten. So please, please be gentle with your friends or neighbors walking that difficult road.  

This year more than in years past I find myself reacting strongly against the Evangelical tendency to pass over grief with claims of a greater good. We attempt to bandage wounds by looking on the bright side or finding the purpose, as if believing that this utterly heart-wrenching loss could be worth something somehow dampens the sting. (I can tell you, it does not). I don't think this reasoning is biblical. See, sometimes, there simply is no purpose in suffering.

First please hear what I'm not saying. I'm not saying that God is not mysteriously Sovereign over these things. I am not saying that suffering does not result in good, as Romans 8 and 1 Peter 1 so clearly attest. But I am saying that I don't think God orchestrated the twin's conception, growth, and death for some abstract greater good. I believe that death is a result of human sin, and sickness and stillbirth are symptoms of creation groaning in it's bondage to decay. I am saying that Vanity is something that does actually exist and it plagues this fallen world. I can say this out of the conviction that this earth is not the way it's supposed to be, and contrary to our instinct to blanket grief with shallow happiness, we actually honor what was lost by joining mourners who wander in the wilderness.

I believe that grieving what was lost and lamenting the vanity of that pain actually makes me yearn for God's promised restoration, and I rejoice in hope. 

Scripture does say that God will bring good from evil. It does say that our faith is not in vain, because we will receive a richer inheritance that far outweighs the sufferings of earth. That's why we have hope. That's why we can count on our glorification. The brokenness and vanity of this world is plain, but so is the promise of all things being restored. I can say with certainty that this family will one day hear those giggles and see the smiles of our two boys. I love to imagine that day, the day that God finally does reverse the curse of Vanity and brings true Shalom--all things as they should be--once again. 

How to build community (after Day One of being a Graduate Resident Assistant)

1. Make a solid start (if you're not trying now, chances are it won't happen.)
2. Always have room for another friend.
3. Understand that you won't be friends with everyone.
4. Push yourself past what's comfortable.
5. Make it organic.
6. Food should be involved.
7. If you say it, mean it. If you mean it, do it.
8. Plan for spontaneity. Be okay with scheduled chaos.
9. Get in touch with your weaknesses and don't hide them.
10. Drop your expectations; fuel everything with prayer.
11. Don't put people in a box.

What I've been up to this summer

Summer is at its end.

I know this because the sun rises at 6:15 am, a good 45 minutes earlier than it was rising about a month ago.
      ...and I know this because this summer I finally got my natural sleep rhythm adjusted to where I function best, so that I've seen the sun rise more mornings than not these last few weeks. That's one of my biggest personal accomplishments.

I feel a bit dizzy looking back over these last three months. These months were filled with more Life than I even thought possible.

1. Summer kicked off with a week in Haiti. 
2. I soaked in a delightful visit home. 
3. I got back just in time for an Educational Ministries class. 
4. I went camping. 
5. I job-hunted like a mad woman while completing papers and projects for aforementioned class. 
6. I spent two days a week taking fifty children to fun activities. Then my client load doubled (from 2 to 4). 
7. I left two jobs. I started two jobs. 
8. I went backpacking on an island.
9. I went fishing.  
10. I went dancing in the city, twice.  
11. I became an R.A. 

The year ahead becomes even more dizzying. In the next nine months, I intend to: 

1. Complete at 20-hour per week internship. 
2. Finish my last three Master's level classes. 
3. Be a good R.A. 
4. Teach a Sunday school class and lead workshops for my church. 
5. Work 20 hours a week with little children and with horses (not at the same time).
6. Be a youth leader. 
7. Pass the Comprehensive Exam. 
8. Pass the National Counselor Exam. 
9. Get a real job for the first time in my life. 
10. Move.  

I'm learning so much, especially about community and Sabbath and empowering people. I've learned that I'm bad at these things, that I have so much more to learn. I'm learning to slow down even though life is filling up. I'm learning to breathe in the quit moments whenever possible, to sit in the boredom before I turn to facebook for distraction. I'm trying to honor the person in front of me as the most important person in that moment. I'm practicing peace and joy as both necessary disciplines and seasonal fruit. The friendships around me have become so enriched this summer, and now I begin to prepare my soul for their resolution, for bittersweet goodbyes so that a new chapter can emerge. Most importantly, I learned to stop waiting for my dreams to actualize, because I realize that I am living it all right now. I couldn't ask for anything better. 

Even on my bad days...

Most days, my job brings me so much joy.

Most days, but not today.

Most days I am blessed to experience the thrill of connecting on a significant level with another human being, of meeting them in the brokenness that we all share, and maybe, if only just a little, lifting them out. Few things in life that are as fulfilling for me.

Today, though, I was in a slump. Today as I tried to prepare for tomorrow's sessions, I felt clueless and inept. I couldn't summon the creativity that guides good counseling. I felt impatient at the long, slow progress of relationship-building. Instead of the usual excitement, I felt a bit anxious at the "Unknown" that would fill the hour ahead of me. What would happen in this next session? How much do I plan for, and how would I respond? Today, my inexperience weighed heavy on me.

Today, my client never showed, didn't even answer my phone calls. When working with children who aren't old enough to drive, these scenarios come about when parents are less than invested in their children's therapy. I already knew this particular parent wasn't completely sold on the concept anyway. How can I, a 20-something, stand before a stranger--one who has been through a whole lot more difficulties in life than I have--and convince that person that paying large amounts of money every week to let their children play games with me is actually essential for their child's future well-being? How do I do that when I sometimes struggle to convince myself?

Many days, the irony of these things goes unnoticed. Sad ironies, sick ironies, like how my coworker has a job doing supervised visitations because some fathers aren't to be trusted taking their kids out to ice cream alone. Like how its my job to help this little boy learn how to adjust to life without daddy at home. Like how the kids who need services the most consequently come from families too chaotic to facilitate consistency.  It's like some days I rejoice over picking up the broken pieces, and other days I get a glimpse of how big the mess is and its too much.

Today, I'm sitting in Chicago rush-hour traffic after waiting out the hour in vain for my client to arrive, trying to let this reality permeate my cynic heart:

"I'm no longer a slave to fear. I am a child of God."  

Most days, I feel adequately confident, but some days I can't argue with my incompetence. After all, there are lots of things I'm not good at. 

But I'm still a child of God. 

I don't know how all the pieces fit together. It's not about me making a difference because some days even that much is too hard to see

...but I'm still a child of God. 

And while I hope and pray that this parent recognizes the necessity of intervention for this child's future, I don't have to be a slave to fear. My status as student or counselor, youth leader, professional, employee, nothing compares with that truth.  I am a child of God. 

What it means to display Strength in Weakness

There is a disconnect here, for those of us who have grown up in the church. No doubt we've all heard this sentence before: God displays Strength in Weakness. We profess to believe it and point to Biblical Examples like Moses and Gideon...but we still do everything in our power to avoid our own weakness:

We pray for Strength, skill, and blessing; we encourage others by emphasizing the positive instead of sitting in the problem; we talk till we are blue in the face about authentic community, but we are still reluctant to share our fears and failures with other Christians.

What will it take for us to live out our weakness to God's Glory?

This is what I saw lived out at St. Vincent's. While there, we were told that the disabled rarely ever come out of their homes; they are often a burden to their families because shame and poverty tell them they have nothing of value. Rather than creatively seeking gainful employment for the physically and mentally disabled, the society at large has chosen to hide and forget, because the pain of limitation is too much to bear.

Is the United States all that different? Except we don't have the excuse of financial hardship to pardon our mistreatment of the weak in the world.

It is because a local priest had a different vision, because local teachers recognized value and victory in these forgotten ones, because a number of compassionate donors gave a portion of their means to build a place of empowerment, that the deaf, blind, lame, and simple in Port au Prince have a space where they can learn, identify their strengths, and contribute with dignity. Their beauty is not about compensating for disability; it is about living out God's redemption, generosity, patience, kindness, and understanding. Creativity, ingenuity, and hard work flourish here. In the face of that which the world despises as vulgar, pathetic, and vain, God has constructed a community of strength and acceptance.

Weakness consistently puts God on display. This is what Jesus meant when he spoke of the Son of Man being "lifted up" on a cross of execution, or what Paul meant when he insisted that his being the worst of sinners actually magnified God's glory (1 Timothy 1).

Let me give you another very real example. I saw this two years ago when my brother and sister-in-law lost their unborn twin sons. Rather than suck up the pain and withdraw, they courageously displayed their grief in their church family. I will never forget the moment in church when they stood to worship, leading the 300+ congregation in praise and thanksgiving to God even when we all were too broken to sing. The trials that draw us into ourselves could also result in the most stunning unification and glorification if we find the courage to share our burdens.

What would happen if I grieved, wrestled, and battled temptation as honestly and courageously? What would it take for me to get over myself and display my weakness for the sake of God's glory? What if we prayed for God to give victory rather than safety from the trial?
God displays Strength in Weakness. I don't want to sit back from this reflection and think "that's nice." No, I want to come to grips with my need to have weak and broken people in my life. Because if that's where God is at work, it is sure as heaven where I want to be.