My education after seminary

I had never worked in the food industry before this spring. I don't regret having to work in a restaurant as a hostess to make ends meet. We have to do what we have to do between graduation and first call. I've learned a lot and come to appreciate the service industry even more than I did before. That saying (I don't know if it's actually a saying) that "everyone should work in the food service industry at least once," is very true.

So here are some things I have learned while working in a restaurant...


Ice cream solves a multitude of problems. My manager's go-to move when someone is upset or an order is made wrong (over and over again) is to send the table ice cream (actually gelato because we think we are fancy). And let me tell you, people are totally into it. They are delighted to get free ice cream after their meal. The other day, we had a little girl come in with her parents and she was just WAILING. She wanted ice cream and she wanted it about ten minutes ago. As I sat them, I mentioned to her mother that we have gelato (pft). The wailing stopped as the gelato-posing-as-ice-cream was delivered. Ice cream solves everything, y'all. It just does.

Your education means nothing if you aren't nice. I was chatting with a fellow hostess, exchanging stories, and asking about her life. She said she is currently working at Tazza because she just got out of a bad relationship and had to move back in with her parents. As I mentioned that I had just finished my master's degree. "How old are you?" she asked. I replied that I'm 25. She said, "I feel so under-accomplished! You're younger than me and you have a master's degree!" I was quick to point out that we are both working the same job for the same wage. Education means absolutely nothing when you're in the same lot in life.

The 5/10 rule makes a lot of sense in real life. In restaurant business there is a rule that says if someone is within ten feet of you, you should acknowledge the person with a smile or a "hello." If you are within five feet of a person, you should greet them and offer to assist them. As an introvert, it is really easy for me to dip my head when people walk down the street or greet me in a grocery store. Since working in a restaurant, I have greeted a lot more people in my day to life. This is also a "rule" that I think is invaluable in ministry, whether we tell our worship greeters about the "rule" or using it in our lives everyday.

People just want to be treated like human beings. Whether it is the chef, the line cooks, the host, the servers, or the guests, we simply want to be treated like human beings. Whatever that means to you might vary, but to me it means that people who are in the service industry are people. People who go to eat in restaurants are people. It's not super complicated. I don't think that one person is any better than the other. Sure, I work in a restaurant where I can't afford the food, but that doesn't mean I should be treated like a someone who is less than human. It's probably too much to ask, but you know, I'm an optimist.

Keep your feet underneath you. I'm not the most graceful person in the world. I was slipping and sliding on the kitchen floor the other day and someone said, "keep your feet underneath you." That sounds like common sense, but it's more about not cutting corners or going too fast. And I can really use that advice. I'm pretty good at going too fast and forgetting to take a look around and appreciate my life.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I'm really enjoying working at the restaurant, and it is teaching me a lot. I hope I don't have to work there forever, but I'll take these lessons with me into ministry and whatever is next in life.

The Expedition

A friend and colleague shared this poem as we considered how to leave our congregations and say goodbye "well." I don't know if there is a way to say goodbye well to the people who have captured my heart and lovingly pulled me into their family so quickly and fully, but I will try and try again until I have expended enough words on these loved ones. So tonight I share not my own words, but the words of another, more poetic writer... 


The Expedition 

by Anthony de Mello

My time here has come to an end, 

And I think of the days that I have spent in these surroundings.

I see an image of myself as I was when I came here

And I look at my self as I am today

At the close of this time.

I think of the persons and places that have been a part of my time here.

To each of them I speak in gratitude.

And to each I say goodbye. 

Other places, other persons call to me,

and I must go. 

I think of the experiences I have had,

The graces I have been granted

In this place.

For each of these too, I am grateful.

I think of the kind of life I have lived here,

The atmosphere, the daily schedule.

I say goodbye:

Another type of life awaits me,

Other graces, other experiences.

And I say goodbye to persons,

places, 

things, 

events,

experiences,

and graces, 

I do so under life's imperious biddings.

If I wish to be alive

I must learn to die at every moment.

That is, to say goodbye, let go, move on. 

When this is done, I turn to face the future

And I say, "Welcome."

I think of the work that waits for me,

The people I shall meet,

The type of life I shall be living, 

The events that will take place tomorrow.

And I extend my arms in welcome

To the summons of the future.

From Yvon to home

We spent the majority of our time in Yvon working on a large church at the bottom of a hill.  It was a beautiful work of cement art, big enough for over 200 people.  

The other time was spent exploring the beautiful hills surrounding the village and spending time with the kids in the area.  If children can afford to go to the school in the village, they learn French, English, Creole, and Spanish.  We were better able to communicate with many of the children than the adults who had been out of school for many years.  I spoke the tiny bit of French I know, but immediately had better success with English.  The little girls giggled and asked shyly to take the coloring books while the young men asked how to translate things into English.  “How do you say…?” became a favorite phrase between us and the children.  

Every night we slowly made our way back up the mountain, exhausted from the sunshine and work.  We ate all of our meals in the old church that overlooks a huge beautiful lake.  We mostly had rice and beans with fried plantains and chicken.  After dinner we pulled out boxes of dominos and turned on the generator, which powered the lights on the porch, in the kitchen, and one bulb in the church.  About thirty people from all over the village came to play cards and dominos or laugh and sing church songs with us.   

Some days we walked down to the well to help people pump water into five gallon bottles or buckets so they could take it home or bathe in the shadows of the palm trees.  It was difficult work.  The long metal pole to pump the water took almost all of my body weight before a tiny bit of water squirted out.  The well was where everyone gathered at least four times a day.  Even the smallest children pulled and poked their donkeys to the well to gather water for their families.

We talked a lot about the earthquake within our group but we were too afraid  to ask too much from the people in the community.  We weren’t sure if they or their families were directly affected by it or how they would react to our questions.  We finally found  enough courage to ask one of our translators Napoleon and were struck by his story. 

He was in the university at the time, studying to be a translator as it is one of the few semi-guaranteed jobs in the country due to the mission trips that have been more and more frequent in the past five years.  Napoleon was running late the morning of the earthquake.  He said he was walking to the university when he felt the ground move beneath him and the walls around him start to crumble.  He laid flat on the ground and thought to himself, “this is the end, I will die here.”  As the quakes and the aftershock stopped, he continued his walk to the university.  What he saw was complete devastation.  The entire four story building collapsed, killing over 200 students and more than a dozen professors.  

Napoleon said that it was much worse for people who were in school or had jobs - they were the ones inside the buildings when they collapsed that day.  He hesitantly told us about his cousins who worked on the first floor of a hotel.  The entire building fell upon them.  

On the last day of our trip we drove over five hours to one of the memorials, honoring the lives of thousands of people who died in the earthquake.  The memorial was at the sight of a mass grave where bodies were piled into a hole by a dumpster after the quake.  

It was eerie and devastating.  There was a deafening silence - anyone who may have lived near the area has long since left due to superstition and respect.  Over the walls we could see the city of Soleil (the poorest city in Haiti) with clouds of ash coming from the communes where they burned piles of trash.  We sat at the memorial for  several minutes, each of us praying or meditating, remembering in our own ways.  

We flew home the next day after spending a long time in the Haitian airport.  I haven’t been able to write much about Haiti since that day until I sat down to write this.  For a long time I have prayed a devastating prayer: “Lord, break my heart for the things that break your heart. Ruin me for the ordinary and for the easy.”  God has answered my prayers in this trip. 

I want to learn to live in a way that empowers others instead of treading on them.  I want to learn to enable them and help them identify their gifts and calling in this world.  I wish to be a leader who is able to follow, one who leads with gentleness and kindness as well as justice.  I wish to seek the assets of communities and peoples instead of first noticing the weaknesses.  I hope to find redemption and grace in all situations and experiences.  I hope that God will continue to ruin me for the cultural norms and the things that society thinks are natural.  I hope to follow Christ in all my actions and do God’s will - especially when it leads me to new places and makes me feel uncomfortable.  

So, you might be asking (as I am), what is next?  What can we do for a country that takes our aid and sells it for profit?  What can we do for a country that continues to take handouts because they are readily available and jobs are not. 

One thing we are able to do right away is change our thought process.  We must think in terms of what we can do with Haiti instead of for Haiti.  We must partner with the government and aid organizations that are already in Haiti and accountable.  We must look for the strengths within Haiti and throughout the Haitian people instead of focusing on their weaknesses. 

We can also work with churches within Haiti who are accountable to help put money into the Haitian economy.  Although there is a lot of literature about how harmful short term missions are for countries, when done correctly they pour thousands of dollars into the country’s economy and encourage people to care about foreign countries.  Our mission trip gave over $3,200 for the new church and to pay the workers and translators that stayed with us that week.  That money will not go to corrupt government officials or unaccountable aid organizations.  It will go directly back into the Haitian economy.  

We can also pray.  Although it sounds benign considering the pain and heartbreak in Haiti, we know that God is able to do incredible things.  We have no knowledge of what God might do through pray and what God has already done through the churches in Haiti.    

Here I Am

It has been a long time since I have written anything.  It turns out that seminary keeps you as busy as everyone says it does!

I just got back from an incredible trip to Haiti where seven of us spent six days in the small village of Yvon building a church.  I am never very good about writing after I come back from trips - it takes me a long time to absorb everything after a trip like that.

But as I reflect on my trip and recover from sleep (and binge watch Netflix), I cannot help but think of the words that our Mary uttered just a few weeks ago in the lectionary.  My sermon might not do it justice, but I keep thinking about how willingly Mary accepted her new journey with God.

Another thing rolling around in my brain is about internship.  Where am I going? Will we have a weekend free to get married? Why hasn't anyone emailed me in over three weeks?

But I do have one assurance.  God is calling me to something different.  And God is there when I take that journey.  No matter where I am called - to Haiti, Argentina, London, or South Carolina - God provides and God journeys with me.  All I have to say is, "Here I am."

So with that in mind, here's a link to my sermon from Advent 4. I had the incredible opportunity to preach in my home congregation over Christmas break.  I heard a lot of people say that it was a blessing to have me preach that morning, but I feel that I have been blessed doubly by such an incredible congregation and the story of Mary that has been resonating in my soul for several weeks.

Generational Love

Ruth 1:1-18

Psalm 146

Hebrews 9:11-14

Mark 12: 28-34

There are 4,200 different religions in the world.  There are 5,000 ethnic groups in the world.  There are 318 MILLION people in the United States alone.  But we aren’t just diverse as a people, we are diverse as generations.  There are more people over 50 living in the United States than any other time in all of history.  That’s pretty awesome.  But it just shows how completely different and spread out people are throughout the country, but also throughout the Church.  If you look around this morning, there are all sort of different people who come from completely different places and live such different lives.  And we are all different ages and grew up in different generations. 

Things are different than they were five, ten, twenty years ago.  I see you smiling.  You know what I’m talking about. Everything has changed - how we communicate has changed from hand-written letters to telegrams to phone calls and text messages.  How we raise our children has changed with electronics and schools transforming.  Even the way we worship has changed.  My parents had no idea what “contemporary worship” meant when they were growing up.  

And let’s be honest, it divides us.  There are many people who love traditional worship, many people who love contemporary.  There are a lot of people who say no cell phones for kids until they are fifteen years old and some who will give in around 8 years old.  Generations are different and I think it’s a good thing.  It is certainly a natural change.  

But there is something that unifies us.  And I think Jesus and Ruth both get to it in these passages.  You heard most of the backstory with Ruth - her husband dies and there is no other relative to take as her husband.  Naomi does such a noble thing there with Ruth - she tells her to go back to her people and find a husband so that she might not have to live a lonely life and a life of poverty.  Naomi didn’t have to give Ruth that blessing... and Ruth certainly could have taken that blessing and left.  But she did something different.  She, because she felt connected to Naomi in a deeper way than just being her daughter-in-law, stays with Naomi and loves her like her own mother.  I think as a church, we can really learn from that.  

They weren’t from the same tribe of people, they didn’t have the same friends.   But something connected them.  Somehow, during their time together, Naomi was able to pass down something so incredibly vital for Ruth, that Ruth wasn’t willing to part from her.  She knew she would live in poverty and that she could never marry another man and have children.  This meant shame and complete loneliness during that time.  But there was a love and connection that kept Ruth from following her sister-in-law back to her old life.  Naomi had instilled in Ruth the traditions of her people and the value of her religion.  

“Do not press me to leave you
    or to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go;
    where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people,
    and your God my God.

Where you die, I will die—
    there will I be buried.
May the Lord do thus and so to me,
    and more as well,
if even death parts me from you!”

That is beautiful. 

It was the unity of God and the unity of kinship that kept those women together, even through the most difficult time in their lives.  But it wasn’t just the kinship and unity of God, it was love.  Naomi loved Ruth enough to allow her to go back to her family and find another husband and live a fruitful life.  And we know how much Ruth loved her mother-in-law - enough to stay with her and live a life of poverty.  

In the gospel, Jesus tells us that the two most important commandments are to  “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” and  "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

Naomi was able to pass down both of these commandments to Ruth.  

One of the most incredible things we are able to pass down to young people is love.  I believe, as a child of two wonderful parents that the most important thing they taught me was how to love.  They were good at it, after all.  They love each other and they love my brother and me.  I can’t think of a single time growing up that I didn’t feel my parents’ love for me.  And I don’t think that they just woke up on the morning of becoming parents and decided to learn how to love.  It’s something that their parents taught them and their grandparents passed down as well.  Love is something that is almost necessarily passed down from generation to generation.  It is love that we have in common with all of the generations before us and all of the generation after us.  It was the love of God and the love of one another that kept Ruth and Naomi together.  

We have that same type of love that keeps us together as a church body.  We have the love of Christ.  We have a unity of spirit that is able to hold us together through space and time - through the generations and through the diversity of the world.  We have unity because of the Trinitarian God.  God so loved this world and Jesus Christ died for the love of the world.  The Holy Spirit was given to the church to remain and nurture the church.  It was given in order to be a comforter, a guide, and a way to keep the church unified.  

Our response to this gift of love and commitment that our God has given us so freely is these two commandments.  Love God with all of your heart and all of your mind and all of your soul.  And love your neighbor as yourself.  This response is meant to keep the church together and provide real relationship within the church and outside of the church.

We celebrate this unity and this relationship in two sacred ways in the Lutheran church - the waters of baptism and Holy Communion.  Baptism is a reminder that we belong in God’s family.  Communion is a celebration and remembrance that we are in this together.  And the really cool part is that it’s not just this church that is unified in Christ.  We are together with all of the saints and sinners throughout all of time and space.  Our grandparents and great-grandparents.  People who have yet to be born.  Every generation and throughout the entire world, we are all of one spirit in Christ Jesus.  

Things are going to keep changing.  Generations will continue to feel further and further apart.  The world will continue to expand and diversify.  But if we are able to teach people of all ages that the two greatest commandments are to love God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul and to love your neighbor as yourself, the unity of the spirit in Jesus Christ cannot be broken.  

Mom (Wife?)

Throughout my entire life I have always wanted to be one thing: a mom.

Weirdly enough, I had never really thought about being a wife.  I guess it would make sense that those two things go together but they never have in my mind. Now, my friends will tell you that I have thought about marriage.  This isn't exactly accurate. I've thought a lot about a wedding. A big party. A white dress. Lots of friends.  But I've never really thought about a marriage.

I don't think I've ever wanted to be alone though. Maybe it's the fact that I have never wanted to define myself by being someone's wife. I don't know what it is, but I have always kind of imagined myself hanging out with my best friend and raising kids.  Who knows, maybe that's what marriage is supposed to be.

Despite being in a relationship pretty consistently since about eighth grade, I have never imagined married life for myself.  (This might have something to do with a broken engagement, but we never really unpacked that during CPE.)

I have, however, imagined my life being a mom.  Since coming home from Honduras in January, I have started researching adoption laws and reading fiction and nonfiction books about adoption.  It has become a problem. (Haha)  But the funny thing about it is that I'm serious.  My friends roll their eyes and laugh at me when I talk about adoption, but I can't wait.  Many countries I've researched require adoptive parents to be married, 25 years old, and have a steady income.  Honduras is just about that "easy."  Three more years and a steady income.

Despite imagining myself as a mom and not a wife, I have never thought I would be alone.  Actually, I'm afraid I might be alone.  You see, I don't have normal plans for my life.

You've already heard about the adoption thing.  To take it a bit further from normal, I don't really want to give birth to any children.  Seriously. Cue my fear of hospitals and the fact that I think I'd be THE worst pregnant woman on earth.  One step further from normal: I think I'd like four or five kids (or more).

I also want to travel and live paycheck to paycheck, loving as many people as I possibly can. Possibly in a mud hut. Possibly without running water and electricity.

Not many people want to live close to poverty and devote their lives to people in another country. Even if it sounds like a good idea for a few months, it would be hard for most people to put their dreams of a normal family, house, and stability on hold for five or ten years. It's hard for me to think about it and it's something I've thought about for many years.  It's hard for me to ask someone to disregard what they think of as a "normal" relationship, and plunge into the unpredictability of adventure and love.

I'm already running and I need someone to run beside me and be my partner.  I don't know if that means marriage or a husband.  And that's pretty terrifying. Especially considering I'm in a relationship with a man for whom I'd give all of that up.

But maybe that's okay.  Maybe that's the point.  Maybe we are supposed to be so in love that we would give our dreams up for one another but we are also so in love that we would never ever ask one another to.

Such is life. Paradox.

The Start of Something New

I'm 22 years old.  I know, right? I'm young. And so far in my life, I have done some pretty cool things. And I'm super excited about all the cool things I have already done in my life.  I feel successful (even though I'll be on food stamps next month).  I am happy.  Seriously.  I know sometimes it doesn't seem like it, but I am happy. 

And I'm young.  I have a lot to live for.  I have a lot of goals I want to reach before I kick the bucket.  And I have a lot of time to achieve those goals.  I don't always feel that way- I look around to my friends who are forming nonprofit organizations, designing iPhone apps, becoming teachers, and traveling the world and I'm jealous.

I want to be doing those things. I think to myself.  So why am I not doing those things? Good freakin' question. I've never really had a bucket list before, but I think I'd like to start one.

I'm young.  I shouldn't be doing something I hate right now (like CPE) or ever, for that matter! I should be following my passions and creating my own bliss.  I should be leaving the past behind me and living the adventure that is my life.  I should be living the life I have right now. Moment to moment.

So I'm going to start.  CPE ends tomorrow with graduation and I am not turning back.  I'm going to run out those doors and start following my dreams.  This is my public proclamation that this is the start of something new.

I've always been fearful of the future.  I think that is why I spend so much of my energy trying to plan for it.  I try to map out my life and what is going to happen year to year.  Man, that takes the fun out of living!  I'm going to start living in the moment and loving life the way it is.  And if I am unhappy, I will get up and change it.  I know I can do this now because I have felt myself growing up.

One reason I know I have been changing and growing up is what I see in my relationship.  The relationship I'm in right now is the very first relationship in which I haven't been searching around for what is next or what is to become of it.  I am so happy with where I am in our relationship. I'm not worried about marriage or kids.  It's all to come.  For now, we're still young.  We enjoy each other's company and hanging out with our dog and going on road trips.  We love spending time with each other's family and talking about our passions.  We aren't in any hurry and that is so very nice.

I'm going to make mistakes. I'm going to say some stupid things. Maybe get myself in trouble.  But I am also going to have fun.  I am going to follow my passions no matter who I disappoint.  I am going to travel.  I am worth being the happiest I have ever been.

In preparation for Haiti

Most of you know this, but I went to Honduras for eleven days in January.  I haven't been able to go more than about 20 hours without thinking about that experience and how much I want to go back.  I might not get the opportunity to go back to Honduras, but I'm hoping to travel again this January.

The professor with whom I traveled takes a group to Haiti on the years he doesn't go to Honduras.

I am elated about Haiti.

I loved my experience in Honduras so much that I cannot even imagine how much fun I'll have in Haiti.  I just want to hang out with kids again.  Sweat in the sweet heat and giggle with some kids on the front porch of a school.  I've been Googling things about Haiti for the last week in anticipation. 34% of the population is younger than fourteen.  I couldn't be more excited.

Haiti intimidates me.

I don't know how to speak even a tiny bit of French.  And French Creole sounds even more exhausting.  How am I going to connect with people when I can't understand anything? When I can't speak anything?  But if I learned anything while I was in Honduras, it's that laughter and silliness are languages without distinctions.  I might be alright.

My heart breaks for Haiti.

Haiti was the first post-colonial black-led nation in the world.  They endured so much persecution by the Spanish and French over the years that their government has been pretty unstable for its entire existence.  It is currently the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  Poorer than Honduras? I think to myself. How my heart breaks for the people there.

Haiti is hurting.

In 2010, an earthquake struck Haiti, killing over 300,000 people and leaving over 1.5 million people homeless.  Four years later, they still haven't recovered.  They may never fully recover.  Their environment is subject to extensive deforestation and soil erosion.  And there is barely enough potable water to provide everyone with enough throughout the year.

Haiti can teach me so much.

Over 95% of Haitian citizens are black.  Over half of the population practices voodoo (although the census says that they are 80% Roman Catholic).  I am so incredibly interested in the culture there.  Not as a specimen of study, but as people I'd love to have relationships with.

I am so excited to meet my brothers and sisters in Haiti.  I'm going to be hitting everyone up for money soon.  It makes me ill to ask for money like this, but these trips are formational and completely priceless to the ministry for which God is calling me.

My Restlessness

Restless (adj.) - unquiet or uneasy, as a person, the mind, or the heart; unceasingly active; averse to quiet or inaction, as persons.

I think my restlessness started when I was very young. We moved around a lot when I was a child and once you are accustomed to something for 14 years, it becomes a part of who you are. Every two years (sometimes sooner) I feel a type of tugging- a want for less routine, more spontaneity, something new, a purging of all that is old.

My restlessness has led me to do some silly things. I begged my mom to redecorate my bedroom while I was in high school because we had no plans of moving. When I was in college I cut off all of my hair in the quest for something new and different. Sometimes I try out a new style of clothing for a while. It's like a midlife crisis every two years.

My restlessness has also led me to do some other mildly crazier things. Like draining my bank account on a ticket to Hawaii for ten days. And writing an entrance essay for seminary.

Sometimes it's a combination of restlessness, anger, sorrow, the need for freedom - the realization of something small - for me to do the big things that need to be done. Breaking off an engagement. Ending a relationship of almost five years.

I'm afraid my restlessness will leave me alone in this life. If not alone, it certainly has the potential to leave me lonely. In my need for change, I pick everything up and move. I leave the people I love in the search for something to stop my restlessness.

I used to be afraid I would never find the cure to my restlessness.

Then I went to Honduras.

Honduras seemed to settle me. I never felt more physically healthy than when I was in Honduras. Even the things you'd expect from international travel (exhaustion, stomach issues, soreness from more physical work I'm used to) didn't bother me at all.  I have had neck and shoulder issues from being a student for 17 years and sleeping on a thin mat on a concrete floor didn't leave me aching in the morning.

I also couldn't have been happier than I was in Honduras.  I missed talking to my parents and friends, sure; but I don't think I've ever laughed for ten days straight and I was filled with so much joy while I was there.

I felt filled with the Holy Spirit on a moment to moment basis in a way I've never felt before. I could see God in every child's face and every evening worship service.  I felt God's touch every time a six year old held my hand and in the mornings when the weigh of the mist in the mountains was heavy.

I wasn't restless there.

It took me about 4 hours in the country before I felt as if I belonged there. I've never felt so at home. We had something to do every single day and there was a new adventure around the corner of every dirt road. If I ever got bored in Honduras, I was doing something wrong.  There were endless things for me to learn there.

I miss it every day.

I'm no longer afraid that I will never find a cure for my restlessness. I know that God will lead me back to a place like Honduras. I feel the workings of that every day as I sit in class and as I talk to professors and pastors about international mission.

But it's really hard to wait. I'm doing everything I can to convince myself to stay in seminary and finish my degree. But it's so hard when I'm restless here. Especially restless here. I'm comfortable here and I hate being comfortable.

I long for poverty and adventure and challenge and love. I long for the faces of children and laughter surrounding me every day. And I don't know what that means for my future or where I'll be in the world, but I know I won't settle until my life is consumed by it.

So I started running...

There was a time in my life when I was semi-decently athletic. I used to love going out and running with my dad. We both liked to run slow and far to really absorb all of the scenery around our countryside Virginia house.

Unfortunately, this time in my life only lasted until about 8th grade. So right when I actually needed the exercise and stress relief, I wasn't getting it. I became a theater nerd pretty quickly and didn't think athletics could compete with that. 

This started a fun joke about how I never work out and if you see me in a gym it is probably because someone is paying me. It was true. I went from loving running (no other activity really sparked my interest), to doing absolutely nothing at all. 

College wasn't any different- I think I went to the really beautifully amazing gym twice (and once to buy a smoothie) and I went to the less beautiful north campus gym probably a half a dozen times. Somehow (thank you, divine intervention) I managed to keep off the "freshman fifteen." But I never started running again.

Around April of this year I was told some pretty traumatic news (at least as far as my relatively unicorns and rainbows life went). And I really didn't know how to handle it. Most of my kairos moments have been pretty wonderful. At least they have turned out to be blessings (like coming to seminary). I didn't know what to do with a completely negative, awful kairos moment. I literally wanted to run away from it. So I did. I started running again. It was the only way I knew how to completely focus my mind on something else. It was, somehow, a form of prayer as much as it was a form of exercise.

And I haven't stopped. As a matter of fact, it is now one of the only things that keeps my head from toppling off and rolling around my dorm room floor here at seminary. It is really difficult for me to get through the week without taking time out of each day to go for a run. It is stress relief in an amazing way and functions as a time to relax (the irony) and spend time with myself. 

But it is also a lesson in discipline with which I thought I was pretty okay. Until I signed up a half marathon and started training for that behemoth. My legs haven't been sore, I haven't hyperventilated from running to fast or too long, I'm not miserable. But still, nothing in my brain is telling me that I want to do a half marathon or that I'm even capable of doing a half marathon. I know that I just have to get through the mentality of it. Everything in my heart thinks this is going to be the best experience in the world. And who am I to deny what God has placed in my heart? 

I'm not going to run a half marathon by myself. I'm not even going to train for a half marathon by myself. I know that I wouldn't have even made it this far if it weren't for God putting the Spirit within me and giving me that will power.

Today marks my fifth week of training and all I can think about is how excited I am about the six mile run that will end my week.  I've never run six miles before. I've never even thought about running six miles before. Who am I?

Looking back to April, I know God was working in that kairos moment and I didn't even realize it. I needed a way to cope with stress that was healthy and didn't involve yelling or eating my weight in chocolate. And God was pretty smart to know that I wasn't just going to go run on my own. I needed something to make me hit that bottom and realize my life needed a change. He's pretty good at that most days.

In Between Moments

One of the questions I sometimes try to reflect on in my own life is, "Where am I experiencing God the most right now?"

The answer to that has changed a lot throughout my life. Obviously I can "find" God in any situation or circumstance if I "look" for Him.  But there have been moments when I wasn't even seeking Him consciously and He has just revealed Himself and made me feel His presence. Moments when I don't find Him, but He finds me. These moments rock my socks off.

So with the knowledge that I can't really conjure God's presence on my own, I look back and try to find a pattern of where I have felt His presence most in the past.

At one point in high school, God came close to me when I was in my backyard walking through the woods.
During college it was mostly when I was spending time with the youth group and I regularly watched God work through them.
Last spring it was at Jacob's Porch when I felt loved by people who had no reason to love me.
This summer it was when I ran in the afternoons as the sun was going down.

I'm feeling a change in things again.

In seminary we worship a lot. I love it. It keeps us centered on why we are here and what God is trying to tell us. We worship four days a week in the chapel at 11:30am. Most days we also have compline (nighttime worship) at 9pm. Almost all of our professors have some sort of devotional or prayer before they start class. Most of us also have some sort of personal devotional or ritual that we perform during the day. We also tend to go to church on Sunday mornings.

We worship a lot. And I love it.

But surprisingly, this isn't where I have been feeling God the most. Even in compline- which is absolutely gorgeous and exactly what I love about a worship service- I don't feel God as much as I feel Him elsewhere at seminary.

God has been finding me in the "in between" moments.

He has been finding me in the mundane conversations with my mom that turn into beautiful affirmations.
He has been finding me sitting on the floor of the old chapel sharing details about my life that I had no intention of sharing with anyone.
He has been finding me in the middle of the prayer labyrinth, not when I'm praying, but when I'm wrestling with theology alongside a friend.
He has been finding me lamenting in the hallway of my dorm while I realize that I am not alone in my struggles.
He has been finding me during midnight conversations with people I've only known for a few weeks.
He has been finding me while listening to music (not hymns, not Christian rock- just really good music) that has been shared with me.
He has been finding me every time a little girl yells my name from across a room, "Saaarwahh!"
He has been finding me in moments when I have stopped doing homework because someone has asked about Jesus and what it is like to be a seminarian.

He has been finding me in every way that I would not expect.

Probably because He's God and that's just kind of what He does- He likes to completely shatter our expectations. But it feels so big and so important. Those "in between" moments are so amazing to me. I think a lot of the time He waits until we aren't expecting it or not seeking Him and then He steps in and says, "Here I am."

Lord, as I am actively searching for You throughout the next week, month, and year, I pray that You continue to reveal Yourself to me in those "in between" moments that feel so divine. I pray that other people experience Your presence and Your love in whatever ways speak to him or her. Thank You for this community and the people who continually support this community. Thank You for Your grace and Your mercy through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen. 

Ιδου!

I've heard a lot of really funny things since I have been on campus:

"It's no wonder pastors seem to be alcoholics. It must start with summer Greek."

"Did you know that clergy have the highest suicide rate of any other vocation? That doesn't surprise me anymore..." (That is actually not accurate according to the data I have found- doctors are most likely to commit suicide.) 

"We are at the point where we can't even speak English correctly anymore... Was that a real sentence?"

"I don't even know what it is like to not think about Greek. A week ago I never thought about Greek. Now it's my life and I don't know what to do about it."

Greek was rough on all of us. 

If you are just catching up with me, I was in an intensive ten-day Greek class. Basically they crammed 117 hours of a whole semester into ten days because they thought it would be funny. 

Greek is a very foreign language. First you have to learn a whole different alphabet from English. Then you have to put those letters together and memorize those combinations into some sort of vocabulary word. Then you completely change the vocabulary word into something that looks nothing like you first learned it and you are supposed to know the case/gender/number/voice/mood for everything. 

No thanks. 

It has pretty much been more work than I did in all of my undergrad in every class combined. And this class is ten days long. Graduate school is real life hard. 

But, as we learn through reading the Bible (in whatever language), the dead end is not actually the end. When we think everything is going wrong and nothing good could ever come out of this, God surprises us. 

SHAZAM! (ιδου!) RESURRECTION!

Greek was heinous. I barely slept and mostly only thought about Greek. But God did something in that time that was so profound and moving that I would do it all over again if I needed to. He brought a miracle out of the mess.

In my first two and a half weeks of seminary, I met more amazing people than I could have ever imagined congregated in one area. I have worshiped more fervently than I have ever thought possible. And I have prayed aloud more frequently than I have ever wanted.

I didn't think I needed anything to convince we that I was in the right place, doing the right thing. But from the minute I went to Pilgrim with Ronnie at 8am for the matins service on Sunday morning, I knew God was up to something. I needed this community and I needed this place in my life and I didn't even realize it. (Thanks, God.)

I can already tell that these (unlike undergrad or high school) are going to be some of the best years of my life. The people are so beautiful here. And it's not only the people here- I have been getting overwhelming support from both of my home churches and my family and friends. I am spoiled and I don't deserve it. It restores what I have always wanted to believe about humanity... God is within us and living among us today.

I am falling in love with Jesus over and over again every single time I meet someone new. And it brings so much joy to my heart. God brought a miracle out of the mess. 

Ruin me for the ordinary

This is the prayer I had taped to my rearview mirror for several months this past year. When it finally flew off while my windows were down, I thought maybe it was a sign that I needed to find a new prayer.

What I didn't realize until later was that this prayer, clearly visible to anyone riding in my car and very obnoxious to anyone who drives it, was pushing me toward constant prayer. I would get in my car, read it, and truly mean it every single day. I wanted God to ruin me. I didn't want to be comfortable anymore. I wanted my heart to be broken.

Well, if you know anything about my life this past year, God has done just that. I was uncomfortable, broken, and completely ruined.

But it was so good.

Now that I am starting seminary I am afraid that it is exactly where I am supposed to be. Why should I be afraid of that? Because I don't want to be comfortable. I need to be able to challenge myself. They won't let me take additional classes (yet) and I am afraid that I am going to have a very light schedule for my first semester.

So I have promised myself that if I am bored or even if I am slightly comfortable, I am going to push myself into uncomfortable and ruining situations.

I want my heart to be broken at injustice and cruelty, poverty and prejudice. I want my heart to break for the things that break God's heart. I know what that means. I know it means I am going to hurt. A lot. And I know that ruining me for the ordinary means that I will never be okay with myself in comfortable situations. I will never want an ordinary life. I know that is going to be challenging. But I am so desperate for Jesus that it doesn't matter anymore.

God isn't supposed to be comfortable to be around. My friend has a theory that, as a fallen humanity, we are not able to be naturally close to God. God is so incredibly good compared to us that we can't even fathom it.  That is why when we do things to be closer to God, whether it is turning the other cheek, forgiving over and over again, meditating, or loving people who we don't feel deserve our love- we are uncomfortable.  It doesn't feel good most of the time. Love hurts. Vulnerability hurts. But that is what brings us closer to God.

I need to keep pushing myself toward God. I don't know what that means yet, but I have a feeling that just knowing that it needs to happen is a step in the right direction.

The Way Things Change

I haven't written very much this month. I haven't really missed it and that makes me sad. I have been working hard learning Greek. I only have a few more days until I start class. I have also been packing to move. And all this week people have been trying to say "see you later" when they are really saying "goodbye." It is sad and stressful.

Because this really is the end of part of my life. I am entering a new part, a different part. I don't have anything to truly connect me to this place anymore. I have friends here, but within the next year they will probably be leaving and doing their own next adventures. Ronnie will be moving to South Carolina with me in about four months. Then we will have a new life together.

"The embrace can only be compared with music and with prayer."  -Marcus Aurelius

So in honor of these memories, these goodbyes, and embraces, and dreams, here's some songs I adore. They have been getting me through the past few weeks. I don't think music has to be about Christ to claim that it is worship. I think there is a lot of music that has a purity about it and that is what makes it holy. The Bible doesn't say "there's a time to sing gospel music," it just says there's a time to sing. This is how I have been worshipping God lately...