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Friday, 10 July 2009

  • Justsomethoughts

    For future reference, I would not recommend watching the movie 'ALIVE' before taking an early morning flight the next day (or in a few pre-dawn hours.)  I would also not recommend this in the particular case in which you happen to be seated in the rear of the plane...  because everybody knows that when something goes awry, the back part of the plane is the first to snap off, sending the non-elite, non-first class, cramped, and screaming coach passengers hurtling into the snowy alps to die upon impact while the surviving members freeze to death while contemplating eating each other's flesh.  

    Notwithstanding the reality that there are no alps between Minneapolis and LaGuardia (a NYC airport), I was still a little vigilant.  Not that vigilance would've helped but the grogginess really hinders much lucid thinking and just about any shred of rationality.  Take the fact that I had paid $3 bucks for an asiago bagel with cream cheese.  This turned out to be a plain bagel with a crispy, oily topping that I ended up peeling off only to find that they did not provide me with napkins.  But it was toasty.  Yum.  

    Beyond that.  And beyond the fact that I had the thought of my mom's home cooking in the back of my mind...  so what if I actually fell out of the sky in the bottom-half of a plane that had snapped in two?  What if this was my last flight?  I'd like to say that I am ready to die.  To some extent I am, but largely, I know that I have a lot of unfinished business.  Not only in regard to what I want to say to others, but what I know I need to do myself.  

    I want God to be the Lord and Savior of my life.  Not only Savior, but Lord, God and King.  I want Him to be my first and last thought.  I want to confess and repent and experience the refreshing of the Holy Spirit.  Daily.  I want to be better, not worse, and move upward, not downward.  I want to lead, not be led.  I want to control, not be controlled.  Most of all, I want God to not only endorse and ratify but produce and motivate these decisions.  

    Because in the grand scheme of things, I suppose we are all in the back end of a plane.  But some of us will make it.  And when we land, it won't be in the alps.  You know?

    All in all, I had a great time in Michigan, and I am grateful for all the friends whose friendship, generosity, big-heartedness, and godliness made my trip possible and made my life that much more enriched while I was there.  I am blessed to have people like ya'll in my life.  I didn't realize how much of my life was entangled in that glove of a state (and above) which I never thought I'd live in or love.  But look at things now.  I not only lived in it, but I found that there is a lot to love about it.  

    Thanks.  I'm glad we're together on this Great Road Home.  

Saturday, 13 June 2009

  • University of God at Everywhere

    Although the call of God is not like getting an acceptance letter from a top-notch university, living the Christian life sure feels like being enrolled in school (The School of Hard Knocks, perhaps.)  The Great Dean of All Things seems to have a pretty rigorous curriculum and a consistent homework schedule.  The problem is that most of the time, I am completely unaware of what they are.  He does not often provide the most detailed syllabus... you know what I mean?  

    He also did not tell me until I was pretty well into the program that in some sense, I wasn't allowed to withdraw from the school, although some courses come up as "WF" (late withdrawal with failing grade) and have to be retaken.  Again.  And again.  And again.  It seems He has bought into the "cutting edge" idea of "mastery."  This is the educational concept that one should not move on until one has mastered the previous concept.  In educational terms, unless you get better than a B in Algebra I, you can't move on to Geometry.  No slipping by with a D- here.  

    So here I am, pop-quizzed until it makes me wonder if I ought to look back and see if there were other more pleasant roads I could have chosen.  If perhaps the plow these hands have started to push has started to veer in a direction altogether unplanned for and maybe not desired after.  We here on earth have given it names and titles that attempt to bind them: crucibles, testing time, temptation, growth, training...  but in the end, whatever we call them, we still have no idea what God is doing.  In the end, we find that His plans far exceed ours, and His limits far outspan our meager attempts to control our lives.  

    So here I am.  And I know that there is no sense in looking back because I already know there is nothing back there.  I know that I still have no idea what God is doing, except that it is good.  I know that no matter where I go, He is everywhere, and His training finds me in the most remotest of places.    

    The chastening and training of God in my own personal life is a lesson plan that I do not have access to, and I doubt that many people do.  Even the most seemingly clear objectives may be just the tip of an iceberg.  But it's comforting that I can rest, knowing that come what may, with Jesus in the vessel, I am safe.  (Maybe not smiling at the storm, as the children's song goes, but you know.  Sometimes the lemonade that comes from these lemons doesn't taste so good, but lemonade is lemonade.)  

    Whatever the case may be, UGE is an institution I am privileged to say that I have fully bought in to, and I also fully endorse.    I am also happy that I have fellow students who I am grateful to be able to work in cooperation with...  

    I am also glad to be on break from my job at the school.  Even though UGE has no designated breaks, I'm glad to have a physical one where I can (as I tell my students) "reacquaint myself with the life I left behind for you guys!"  I miss them a lot, but I am glad to have this bit of respite...

    Not too much to say otherwise!  I am spent.  

Saturday, 30 May 2009

  • Put It Over There...

    There's a story my associate pastor shared in church today, and I thought I'd share it with you. The story gets fuzzier with each retelling, I'm sure, but I want to remember it too.

    The verse comes from the book of John, chapter 19. v.23 begins, "Then the soldiers, when they had crucified Jesus, took His garments, and made four parts, to every soldier a part; and also his coat: now the coat was without seam, woven from the top throughout. They said therefore among themselves, Let us not rend it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall be: that the scripture might be fulfilled, which saith, They parted my raiment among them, and for my vesture they did cast lots. These things therefore the soldiers did."

    Usually these verses are glossed over as fulfillment of another messianic prophecy. The spotlight is still on the Man on the cross, and the squabbling soldiers are mere background noise.

    And yet.

    The story the pastor tells is about a man who had a son. He and his wife attempted to raise him well, and through ups and downs guided, mentored, disciplined, and prayed over their charge. The son grew, and entered school, graduating near the top of his class, as president, and with honors. He went on various missions and developed a heart for helping others and for God, and decided to enroll in the Seminary.

    Then came the call.

    The call that all parents dread. Their son had been in a car accident and was killed. The parents grieved. They went through all his things, his pictures, his papers, books, and other possessions. (At this point, I was sitting next to a couple who lost a daughter that would've been around that same age. I almost wasn't able to hold it together.)

    After much thought, they decided to donate his things so that someone else would at least benefit from their loss. The father folded some articles of clothing slowly and carefully, and loaded them gently in the passenger seat of his car. As he approached the charity, he held these precious memories in his arms and headed to the counter.

    The woman there was on the phone, busy, and a little distracted. He set his donation on the counter with misty eyes, and waited until the woman turned to him. She, looking at him with some aggravation, motioned to a corner of the room that was already littered with opened boxes and disheveled clothing. "Put it over there," she said, and motioning brusquely with her hand, turned her back to him.

    The man was appalled. The woman couldn't possibly know what these meant to him. But he took up his donation and without a word gently laid it on top of a wrinkled heap of jeans and quickly left before anything could be noticed.

    How often do we treat Christ like this? Completely obsessed with our own lives, and completely disregarding the preciousness of the things that are His. The man is giving the gift of this son's clothing, only to be met with little understanding and appreciation. God has given the gift of His Son, and his death was met by some with squabbles about his clothing.

    "Put it over there." Christ comes knocking and we acknowledge Him with barely a nod. Just sit over there for a bit. I'll be right with you...

    "Put it over there." What suffering Christ endured for us... and yet we can't hold Him in mind amid our own distractions. Things are a little crazy right now... can you wait?

    "Put it over there." Do we know who we're talking about? What's distracting us from seeing what worth this gift is? Does it belong among the other riffraff our our lives? Certainly not... And yet.

    I've been guilty of that. Guilty of letting things fall over. Guilty of taking the precious sacrifice of God and tossing it on top of a dirty, messy, disheveled pile of remnants from my day. And the frustrating thing is that it seems to happen in a neverending cycle. Again. and again. and again.

    May God help us understand.

Friday, 29 May 2009

  • Next

    The past few days have been a mixed bag for me.

    I watched my students graduate on Sunday, and I was so happy for them that I didn't have to worry about crying. I remembered my own High School graduation and how happy I was. (See previous post for other details.)

    This week has been a torture--ahem, I mean, a necessary evil--ahem, I mean, a great meeting among colleagues in what we call 'post session.'

    I hate meetings like these. Well, to be fair, it wasn't all that terrible. But it wasn't a bowl of ice cream, that's for sure.

    I like meetings which are quick, to-the-point, gripe-less, efficient, and fruitful. These... tend to be much the opposite. Is it normal to discuss dress code for 2 hours? Someone tell me. All in all, it's not too terrible. It's good to spend some time with the faculty, anyway.

    I miss my students. Like, a whole lot. I had a few of them over last night and we spent a while together. It was nice. Looking to the summer, I almost feel... fear. Isn't that funny? I think it is. Fear. It's the best feeling I can use to describe this sensation. CS Lewis said that grief feels a lot like fear. Maybe that's what it is... grief. Man. What have these kids done to me?! ? ?

    So now I'm done. I don't know why I feel unsettled. Part of me wants to stay here. Yes, over the summer. And just wait for the kids to drop by and say hi. (And I know they would!) I can't wrap my mind around why this is. It's too exhausting to try so I've just given up and will let it be.

    I wonder if, when Jesus shouted, "It is finished!" He felt what I do now. Not that my 'finishing' is any close to His by any stretch of the imagination. But after a long, exhausting, fun, sad, completely-emptying-out experience, "finished" is a funny word. It's a mix of joy (not much of this: more of an anticipation, really), relief (a lot of that), nostalgia (oh yeah), and grief (I'm gonna miss these guys.) I'm sure the feeling of dread will pass as I get in Beannie and say goodbye to the rapidly disappearing town in VA through my rearview mirror and remember what it's like to have a life.

    But I'll be back. That gives me joy. I'll have much more to do, and will do it better. That give me joy too. And I suppose Christ too felt joy knowing that it is over, but there will be much more to do, and the ability to do it on a much larger scale...

    So here's to next year! And here's to having a BLAST over the summer. Watch out, Fun. We're about to get reacquainted. =)


Saturday, 23 May 2009

  • Surprise

    I didn't know that being a boarding academy teacher would teach me so much about parenting, about God, and about being someone's child. I was prepared to teach, to guide, to mentor, and to help my students. But man. I was completely surprised by this love business. Coming from one who does not like surprises, however, this one isn't too bad.

    I'm surprised that I am so moved at seeing my seniors graduate. I'm wondering how my parents felt when I graduated from High School. Did they cry? It was the happiest day of my life until that point, and I was so excited to go out and conquer the world. Did it hurt them that I didn't want to look back? That my gratitude was sparse? That I didn't think that they needed to hear how much I loved and appreciated them? Maybe I didn't know how much I loved and appreciated them then.

    One senior cried during his parent recognition speech. In hindsight, I wish I could've been that daughter who gave her parents the gift of tears. I don't cry very often, but there are times when tears are so appropriate. We also didn't have a parent tribute in public high school, but that's beside the point.

    I'm surprised how much I actually loved these students. Somehow they became like my own children, and I've cried over them and prayed for them more earnestly than I've ever done in my life. I knew my capacity for love was large, but I am alarmed to see its boundaries stretched to these lengths.

    I'm surprised at how much God is teaching me about Himself. This is my favorite part of teaching: God has always revealed Himself to me in the most powerful ways through this avenue. He is teaching me about His unconditional love for me, about trust, and love, and devotion, and constancy. I realize that He gets the least credit while He does the most in our lives. And what are we without Him, really?

    I confess that I have already wept over these guys. (In private, of course.)

    I confess that I am too exhausted to monitor what is coming out through my keyboard. I need to sleep.

    I confess that I really. really. really. love these guys.

    I confess that it is both a joy and a sorrow to see them turn away... more a joy. But an empty sorrow.

    The juniors sing this song as the seniors leave Class Night (phase 4 of 5 in the countdown to Commencement):

    Farewell to you, God bless you too,
    We'll miss you as you leave your alma mater,

    ...and I forgot the rest.


Thursday, 14 May 2009

  • Abundance

    I'd like to take a moment
    (of impromptu broken prose)
    to give thanks

    to a God who provides
    much more
    than I even ask for

    and for my students
    (my seniors)
    (two, in particular)
    (or maybe four.
    make that five.
    aw, shucks, while we're at it
    make it all of them)

    who've shown me their love
    and given it to me in abundance

    especially the two tonight
    who kicked me out of my own office
    (8:45pm)
    (miss song, what are you doing?)
    (we're not leaving until you leave
    and that's not fair b/c we have to go to the dorm
    and study for     your final...)

    (disclaimer: it was after a show
    put on my my kids which ended at 8:30)

    I am grateful that even as I pour myself out
    I am being poured into
    and this pouring in
    I am so addicted to
    that I will keep pouring
    so that I can keep being filled up

    (O fill it up)

    and I will keep decreasing
    ever the more (happily)
    so that He can increase in my life

    Here's to our God
    who does exceeding abundantly above
    all that we ask or think
    (Ephesians 3:20)

    i am forever in debted
    forever in love

    and words are never an oblation enough
    my deeds never sufficient

    thanks, Lord.
    thanks, kids.

    sigh.


Monday, 11 May 2009

jensa07

  • Visit jensa07's Xanga Site
    • Name: songahjee (jen)
    • Gender: Female
    • Member Since: 2/12/2004
    • True

Cow-ography


My father chose my name before I was even born; it was marked in the margins of his notebook when he was in High School. I imagine him chuckling because as much as it meant 'I know' it also meant 'baby cow' in our language.

I have learned to love my name and have grown to love my God. I am His little cow on just one of a thousand hills.

I strive for consistency in my faith and in my pursuit of truth on this Great Road Home.

This is a document of this process. This is a document of a walk with my God and yours.

Do You Pulse?