**I've been working on this post for a month now. For whatever reason, I couldn't find the words to convey what I had experienced or how to process it all. But I think I've finally figured out how to share this experience with you.**
Each year, PSF worship is thematic. This year the theme is: Stories We Live By. Jennifer's sermons have all been based on Biblical stories, and each worship a student or PSF community member has shared part of their faith story. For whatever reason, I agreed to tell my story on January 19th, the first worship of the spring semester.
While I knew the date for my story for a decent amount of time, I didn't really prepare for it. I wasn't sure what story to share, how personal and deep to get, or even what could be of interest in my life to the students gathered. Sure, I've had lots of incredible life experiences, overcome my share of personal, family, and life challenges, and wrestled with faith, forming opinions, what to do with my gifts and talents, etc. But I still wasn't sure what to share. Even an hour before worship, I hadn't given much thought to what I would share. Instead I busied myself with preparing for worship and greeting students I hadn't seen in a few weeks. As worship began, I prayed that Jennifer's sermon would be spirit filled and reveal to me that which God wanted the gathered community to hear from my heart and life.
What I heard in her sermon was trusting in God to use us in the ways and means God saw fit. To serve with and through love. To not let our shortcomings prevent us from serving the God who has foolishly loved and saved generations of sinful and broken people. And, as with all good things, God revealed the story I needed to share.
When it was the time for my story, I nervously stood and opened my mouth to whatever needed to come out. I told about the first time I truly trusted in God. I told the story of my rector weekend on FootSteps 41 (a Christian high school weekend retreat that I lead in March 2005). I told of the struggles with the adult board, the questioning of my being worthy to lead, the responsibility that fell on my shoulders. I told of preparing a worship service, of earnest prayers to be a vessel that God flowed through. And I told, with fear and trembling, how I stood in the middle of 50 of my high school peers and silently argued with God--and how God "won" that argument, which meant that I genuinely let God flow through me. And that movement of God through me meant that I began to sing, out loud, "This Little Light of Mine." I closed my story by saying that it was that song filled moment that serves as the foundation of my faith, of the Christian service I continue to find myself doing (and can't get away from), and the truth of loving others in and through my own brokenness and shortcomings.
Sharing my story reminded me of how much I enjoy public speaking, of sharing my faith and life with others, and how incredible it is when I step aside and allow God to move in and through me. In my eagerness to discover what my next steps are to be, I think I should remember this story and sharing it at PSF to remind me that sometimes I have to be vulnerable and willing to have God's greatness pour through me.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Busy With Growth
More often than not, I experience something or someone and think: I need to blog about this. The problem is that 1. I'm not near a computer to immediately blog, or 2. I just don't take the time. It's the later that seems to be causing a lot of my "issues."
I'm just so busy trying to embrace all that I can during this year. In the last two weeks, I've had breakfast with a Presbyterian pastor who is also a Benedictine Nun who runs an intentional community in Wisconsin (something I yearn to do next summer), experienced the fabulous and Nashville famous Pancake Pantry, Hillsboro Village, Islamic Cultural Center, and the Farmer's Market. I've had coffee and great conversations with students, planned and lead an Ash Wednesday service, spent the night on campus helping with Room In the Inn (a non profit that works with the homeless), finalized the Guatemala trip details, and taught several InterFaith classes. I'm working on creating an Arts and Spirituality class, am part of a keynoting team for a youth conference in April, all while trying to take time to listen for the movement and guidance of God in what comes next.
It's been fulfilling, exhausting, overwhelming and incredibly joy-filled all at once. I'm working to pull back the layers of my life; slowly excepting that I don't have it all figured out. I am broken and sinful, full of messy stuff that God, for whatever reason, has decided is worth redeeming and glorifying. That's probably been the most exciting part of my personal growth these last few weeks: that once I declare (and really accepted) myself to be broken, there was an ease and a lightness in the path ahead. This new freedom keeps reminding me of what I heard at the Montreat College Conference: "It's a long way to the realm of God when you have to haul your crap with you."
I feel like I keep telling people that I'm loving my experience, have grown a lot, and am trying hard to listen for the gentle whisper or meaningful interaction that so often reveals God in my life. There is something unique and exciting about this year I've taken. . . a year some would say that I "took off" from the real world. But the thought that keeps coming back to me is this: Aren't these messy truths what the real world is all about? That's what Muhammad, a homeless man I spent some of my Room in the Inn time with, was saying: "Girl, wherever your journey takes you, remember that it ain't always pretty, but at least you're moving. So enjoy the ride and go great places."
That's the plan after all, to keep moving and discovering new things about this ministry, the people I'm around, the world, and myself.
I'm just so busy trying to embrace all that I can during this year. In the last two weeks, I've had breakfast with a Presbyterian pastor who is also a Benedictine Nun who runs an intentional community in Wisconsin (something I yearn to do next summer), experienced the fabulous and Nashville famous Pancake Pantry, Hillsboro Village, Islamic Cultural Center, and the Farmer's Market. I've had coffee and great conversations with students, planned and lead an Ash Wednesday service, spent the night on campus helping with Room In the Inn (a non profit that works with the homeless), finalized the Guatemala trip details, and taught several InterFaith classes. I'm working on creating an Arts and Spirituality class, am part of a keynoting team for a youth conference in April, all while trying to take time to listen for the movement and guidance of God in what comes next.
It's been fulfilling, exhausting, overwhelming and incredibly joy-filled all at once. I'm working to pull back the layers of my life; slowly excepting that I don't have it all figured out. I am broken and sinful, full of messy stuff that God, for whatever reason, has decided is worth redeeming and glorifying. That's probably been the most exciting part of my personal growth these last few weeks: that once I declare (and really accepted) myself to be broken, there was an ease and a lightness in the path ahead. This new freedom keeps reminding me of what I heard at the Montreat College Conference: "It's a long way to the realm of God when you have to haul your crap with you."
I feel like I keep telling people that I'm loving my experience, have grown a lot, and am trying hard to listen for the gentle whisper or meaningful interaction that so often reveals God in my life. There is something unique and exciting about this year I've taken. . . a year some would say that I "took off" from the real world. But the thought that keeps coming back to me is this: Aren't these messy truths what the real world is all about? That's what Muhammad, a homeless man I spent some of my Room in the Inn time with, was saying: "Girl, wherever your journey takes you, remember that it ain't always pretty, but at least you're moving. So enjoy the ride and go great places."
That's the plan after all, to keep moving and discovering new things about this ministry, the people I'm around, the world, and myself.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The Downtown Church
I've been super blessed with all the opportunities and people I have met during my six months here in Nashville. And while the following link doesn't directly connect to my time here, I wanted to share it. Patty Griffith, a country singer, recorded her latest album in the sanctuary of Downtown Pres, the church I attend. It's an incredible album, and this youtube video not only highlights the song, but also shows you a lot of the church. The opening seconds, of the empty pews, shows you were I sit almost every week. It's a beautiful song, with beautiful lyrics that speak if you chose to listen with an open heart. I hope you open your heart to this song and really enjoy it. blessings.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Honor Life
My housemate, Diana, is serving her YAV year at a grass roots nonprofit. The agency is called Tennesseans for Alternatives to the Death Penalty (TADP). Today was the 4th annual student conference, in which she played a significant role in putting it all together. All of the Cabana girls decided it was important to support her in this role, so we all ventured to Middle Tennessee State University (about a 35 minute drive) this morning.
I went not knowing what to expect of the conference's information or my own feelings. I see a lot of the world in gray, not really having a strong pull to one side of an issue or the other. But the stories I heard and the information I learned hasn't yet settled within me.
I learned that although Lady Justice is suppose to be blindfolded, she seems to be able to see economic status, race, and geographical location. I heard testimonies of victim's family members who shared that they sought revenge whole heartily until they realized (through and for whatever reasons) that forgiveness was a better choice. I saw anguish, compassion, frustration, and a whole slew of emotions. I heard a man who had been on "the row" for 20+ years, and was the first exonerated man in the state of Tennessee. I heard the death penalty and abortion compared as equal murders.
Through it all, my thought was: "Yes, right now I choose life. . . but if it was my sister/mother/father etc. who was murdered? Could/would I still feel that way?" I don't have an answer. Yes, I agree that it is not a good system legally, and it is not my position, morally, to take a life in any means. And while I know I've set my stake in the camp that honors life, the camp that chooses mercy over vengeance, I still can't stop churning this issue over in my heart--thinking of all the people who had to pick a side of this issue for a reason much different than a morning student conference.
I went not knowing what to expect of the conference's information or my own feelings. I see a lot of the world in gray, not really having a strong pull to one side of an issue or the other. But the stories I heard and the information I learned hasn't yet settled within me.
I learned that although Lady Justice is suppose to be blindfolded, she seems to be able to see economic status, race, and geographical location. I heard testimonies of victim's family members who shared that they sought revenge whole heartily until they realized (through and for whatever reasons) that forgiveness was a better choice. I saw anguish, compassion, frustration, and a whole slew of emotions. I heard a man who had been on "the row" for 20+ years, and was the first exonerated man in the state of Tennessee. I heard the death penalty and abortion compared as equal murders.
Through it all, my thought was: "Yes, right now I choose life. . . but if it was my sister/mother/father etc. who was murdered? Could/would I still feel that way?" I don't have an answer. Yes, I agree that it is not a good system legally, and it is not my position, morally, to take a life in any means. And while I know I've set my stake in the camp that honors life, the camp that chooses mercy over vengeance, I still can't stop churning this issue over in my heart--thinking of all the people who had to pick a side of this issue for a reason much different than a morning student conference.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
YAV retreat
It's been nearly a week since the YAVs from Atlanta and Cincinnati joined those of us in Nashville for a weekend retreat to focus on listening to God. I wasn't exactly thrilled about heading away for the weekend, for whatever reason. But after venturing through the snow storm, and safely getting to Deer Run Camp, I was glad to be there.
The camp was beautiful. We stayed in new log cabins, the snow was glistening (when it wasn't pelting us in the face) and we shared in a lot of joyful conversation. On Friday, we did an activity called "Praying in Color." I took markers, crayons, and paper and spent two silent hours coloring my thoughts and prayers. I wrote the names of mentors and pastors who have shaped my life. I wrote the initials of all my immediate family members. I wrote things I love, things I appreciate about my life, the questions I have for God. There were bubbles with the words in them, surrounded by different colors. It was a tangled, beautiful, maze of prayers and art. I was exhausted afterwords, and spent most of the evening resting.
On Saturday, we did another art activity that pertained to our dreams. We searched through magazines to find the pictures of our deepest desires. There were particular pictures I was looking for: a husband and wife, a cute cottage, maybe something that pertained to the ministry. Instead I pasted down a picture of a woman surrounded by people who she loved and was loved by. I glued down a lot about Africa, a story about how a girl who ventured away from home yet always comes back and helps to make chocolate cake. I did find a great picture of a comfy cottage, travel pictures, and other things I kind of expected to find. It was a beautiful prayer and a glorious expression of how God's plan is revealed in unique and glorious ways.
I also shared in deep listening activities--a fabulous Spirit filled exchange. I was partnered with one of my housemates and a YAV from Cinci. We talked about being away from home and not being able to help those we love. We talked about feeling God's presence, meaningful worship, personal seminary debates.
When we finally left Deer Run on Sunday, I realized that I have no answers for what is coming next in my life. But there is no door that has been closed; no option that I couldn't take advantage of. Most of my artistic prayers consisted of ideas and concepts that I hadn't ever thought possible for my life (i.e.- Malawi trip; YAV year; my love of public speaking and where it could take me, etc.). Therefore I need to spend more time and energy listening for and to God. And I might just go get my crayons again. . . .
The camp was beautiful. We stayed in new log cabins, the snow was glistening (when it wasn't pelting us in the face) and we shared in a lot of joyful conversation. On Friday, we did an activity called "Praying in Color." I took markers, crayons, and paper and spent two silent hours coloring my thoughts and prayers. I wrote the names of mentors and pastors who have shaped my life. I wrote the initials of all my immediate family members. I wrote things I love, things I appreciate about my life, the questions I have for God. There were bubbles with the words in them, surrounded by different colors. It was a tangled, beautiful, maze of prayers and art. I was exhausted afterwords, and spent most of the evening resting.
On Saturday, we did another art activity that pertained to our dreams. We searched through magazines to find the pictures of our deepest desires. There were particular pictures I was looking for: a husband and wife, a cute cottage, maybe something that pertained to the ministry. Instead I pasted down a picture of a woman surrounded by people who she loved and was loved by. I glued down a lot about Africa, a story about how a girl who ventured away from home yet always comes back and helps to make chocolate cake. I did find a great picture of a comfy cottage, travel pictures, and other things I kind of expected to find. It was a beautiful prayer and a glorious expression of how God's plan is revealed in unique and glorious ways.
I also shared in deep listening activities--a fabulous Spirit filled exchange. I was partnered with one of my housemates and a YAV from Cinci. We talked about being away from home and not being able to help those we love. We talked about feeling God's presence, meaningful worship, personal seminary debates.
When we finally left Deer Run on Sunday, I realized that I have no answers for what is coming next in my life. But there is no door that has been closed; no option that I couldn't take advantage of. Most of my artistic prayers consisted of ideas and concepts that I hadn't ever thought possible for my life (i.e.- Malawi trip; YAV year; my love of public speaking and where it could take me, etc.). Therefore I need to spend more time and energy listening for and to God. And I might just go get my crayons again. . . .
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