An Update:

18 days and counting....

Hebrew: 1 Final Exam Left and memorize the Schema. (and plan the Bagel Bash)
Exegesis: Edit 16 pages and a final exam.
Doctrine: 6-12 pages and a final exam.
Historical Prayer: 5-7 pages
SPM: Done
Worship: 10-15 pages and presentation.
Research: Done

Oh, and I have a date tomorrow night. (Sorry, that's all the info I'm giving out)

Thanksgiving

What am I thankful for? What do I thank God for when I say my prayers in the evening? During the day, what are the small comforts that give me pause and remind me to say a quick word of thanks? What should I be thankful for? Ahhhh, it is Thanksgiving and of course the question on everybody lips is "what are you thankful for." The question was asked to me last week at tables. I wrote down chocolate chip cookies just to be different. The same question was asked briefly, if not followed through with today. I've seen articles about this question recently. Of course this is the topic of conversation; it's that time of year.
I tried to describe Thanksgiving to my roommate from Kenya last week. I was doing so well, talking about the Pilgrims and their boat (was it the Mayflower), and about how they struggled in their harsh first winter. I spoke about how the local Indian tribe sent emissaries to help this ragtag bunch through, and how when the harvest arrived, the Pilgrims invited their new friends over for a great feast, giving thanks for all that had been done. I think I was doing a mighty fine job until the question came, "So is this a religious holiday." The immediate answer was no, it's a secular holiday, but really is it? If this celebration started because a bunch of puritan Christians threw a feast to give thanks to God for their survival and friendships, how can this not be a religious holiday as well?
I wrote a paper on the basic theology of offering in worship this week. To summarize a 7 page paper in about one sentence, the reason we give an offering is to respond to the Word in an act of thanksgiving. We give out of thankfulness, and the Pilgrims threw this party, giving from their harvest in thanks and gratitude. Our sermon in church the other day was titled, "Thanksliving." It spoke about how as Christians we need to give thanks not just one day a week, but in every action of our lives. We live out our thankfulness. The problem is that this leads me right back to the question, what do I give thanks to God for in my evening prayers? What should I give thanks for?
The answer to at least one of these questions lays in a devotion given the other day by a fellow student here before lunch. He shared the story of Corrie and Betsie Ten Boom, as related in the book and movie "The Hiding Place." These two ladies were Dutch Christians who, after being turned in for harboring Jews from Germany during the Nazi regime, were thrown into the notorious Ravensbrück concentration camp. The conditions were terrible in their lice infested barracks, but the sisters persisted in giving thanks to God for everything they had. They even said daily prayers thanking God for the lice, much to the disgust of Corrie. During their time in the camp, where many were treated very harshly by the guards, these two girls found that they were left relatively alone. They had a bible and were able to study it and share it with others in their barracks as well. All this was done without the guards ever finding out. According to my friend (I have not read the book), Corrie eventually found that the reason they were left alone, and able to hide the Bible, was due to the fact that the guards didn't want to come near their barracks or them out of fear of the lice. The very thing that Corrie was having difficulty giving thanks for, all of a sudden became the thing she could give God the most thanks for.
With this in mind, I wonder, do I give thanks for my diabetes? Yes. Do I give thanks for papers that are not done yet and frustrating me? Yes. Do I give thanks for bad weather, and too much to do? I don't know that I can always remember to do this, but today, I say a prayer to give God thanks for everything. No list of just happy thoughts and pleasant memories, but instead it's me laying all that I am before him, and saying Thank You for your sacrifice upon the cross for me. Thank you for making me who I am regardless of the trials. Thank you for working your grace in me that I can even come to you with this. Thanks for being our God.



Oh ...and thank you for chocolate chip cookies!

A Great Evening

I tend to be pretty impulsive in my personality. It's not unusual for me to do something on a whim as it strikes my fancy. I'm not a big planner, but that's ok because I fly by the seat of my pants with the best of them. That is why I wonder why a certain paper of mine is causing me so many difficulties. I have had most of the semester to write my exegesis paper on a great passage; Mark 2:1-2. The healing of the paralytic is a great story of the bible with a lot to say about both the person and ministry of Christ. I still can't seem to be able to sit down and write this paper however. I feel that I'm at a point of paralysis by analysis. I have been trying to analyze so much when it comes to this topic, that I can't keep anything straight. Tomorrow I have to write most of it. I plan on being at the library when it opens, and I won't be surprised if I'm still there when it closes. It will get done, I have every confidence, but it is officially the most difficult paper I have ever written.
I went to the girls’ house tonight to watch a movie and just veg out. I didn't think about the paper at all, and I found that as I came home tonight I had a load off my chest. I'm in a better mood, and feel good about this project. GOD IS GOOD.

The Obituary

I don't know why it’s this way for me, but I just tend to enjoy talking with people, and it seems like no matter where I live there are a few places in town where I can walk in the door and people know my name. The problem is that these are never the places that I would want to admit to. In Loveland it was the pharmacy where I could walk in and they already knew what I was doing there. There is something depressing about being in your 20's and being on a first name basis with the pharmacist. In Dubuque, it's a little better, but the place is the Hardee's restaurant next to campus. I don't eat there everyday or anything, but I probably do end up there at least once a week if I have an on campus meeting during lunch and I need something to grab quickly. I walk in and the two girls who are always behind the counter always smile and welcome me by name (but I must admit I don't know theirs). Someday I need to arrange it that the people who work at the bank know my name. That might mean that I'm not poor.
I was at Hardee's today for lunch after delivering a letter to the Dean's office asking to be considered as a student delegate for GA next year. I like to go in sometimes on weekends because I can get a free newspaper and just unwind for an hour or so. As I scanned the headlines today and delved deeper into the Des Moines Register, something caught my attention. It was the words "Thornton, CO" in the obituaries. Normally I don't scan this section of the paper, but it was a town from back home in Colorado and the photo shown with the text was of an attractive lady who was only in her early 40's. The obit began with the simple words, "Hi, my name is...” I'm guessing that she passed from something along the lines of cancer; something that gave her enough warning so that she could actually write her own obituary. It was a beautiful and somewhat awe inspiring tribute as she left quick messages to those she was leaving behind. It was a quick I love you to her husband, and a message that she would always be watching over her daughters in spirit. She told her son to be strong, and to her step father she quipped "Who loves ya man!?" The most striking words for me though, were the thoughts reserved for her mother. "thank you for your love, your humor, your strength and this life, I had a blast!"
I had a great conversation tonight with a good friend while lounging away the night under the star filled sky in a hot tub. We talked about our lives and about the experiences that we have had that helped lead us to where we are. It was one of those conversations where you make yourself vulnerable as you share, and I'm grateful for having friends like that whom I can share with. Upon arriving home tonight, I see this obituary still sitting on my desk, and it has me thinking. If I had to write my own obituary, what would I say to everybody I care about? How do you put a whole life full of memories into just a few short words? I don't know that I could. I do know that I could say two things though...."Thank you" and "I had a blast!!!"

30 days in a nutshell

I had a quick facebook conversation with a friend in the undergrad program today that highlighted the fact that while the first half of the semester seemed to just drag on this year, the past few weeks have flown by quicker then I ever imagined possible. I had a few laughs last year when I saw friends counting down not the days they had left, but the pages they have left to write. I now understand that frame of thought however. A quick look through my syllabus collection for the semester reveals about 32 days left and:

Hebrew: 2 exams and two quizzes.
Exegesis: 20-30 pages and a final exam.
Doctrine: 6-12 pages and a final exam.
Historical Prayer: 5-7 pages
SPM: 2 pages (I love this class)
Worship: 15-20 pages
Research: Done

My prayer for today is that someday I learn to not procrastinate.

Finding Answers

I remember being in kindergarten and thinking that my teacher knew everything there was to know. Of course she knew everything; why else would she be a teacher. No matter what I asked, she would know the answer. The same went for my mom and dad. If I skinned a knee, they knew how to heal it, and when I wanted to learn how to ride my bike, of course they had the answer. My kindergarten teacher knew my aunt, but that made sense, she knew everything as well. I remember being that age. Everything was safe, and everybody around me could make me feel that way.
I skip forward in my life now about 27 years, and I realize that I am now about the age that my mother was when I was five. I'm probably now older then my kindergarten teacher was in 1980 or so when I first started school. I know I'm older then my aunt was. I also know that they probably didn't have all the answers to life like I thought they did; I certainly don't.
As I grew up, I began to realize slowly that some of the adults in my life maybe didn't know everything, but that was ok. At the time, I probably thought that I knew all the answers anyway. Moving into college and my early adult years most of these naive thoughts went away, but there was still a few people who I think deep down I felt like had all the answers. After all, my pastors had God on their side; of course they would be able to help me in anything that I went through. They helped lead me through my high school youth group experiences. They helped lead me, as I attempted to be a leader for the youth of the church. I went and sat in the office of my associate pastor as I went through premarital counseling. I remember making a desperate phone call one evening to her voice mail as I struggled to try and save a doomed marriage. Getting voice mail crushed me because I knew if she would have answered everything would have been ok.
I think a lot of people think this about their pastors, but as I progress through seminary, this notion is shattered as well, as I begin to realize that we all are a broken people searching for truth. I look around me and I see friends and colleagues who face the same demons that I do. I see people who struggle with relationship questions, image concerns, depression, addictions, family problems, time management concerns, and identity crisis’s. I see people who struggle with the very same issues that I struggle with myself. When I decided to follow the call I felt in my life, I worried that I would arrive on a campus of people who knew everything. I imagined being the lost black sheep on campus, and being laughed out of school.
While I know this is not true now, I still sometimes worry that I am not cut out to be a pastor. I'm not cut out to be the person that a broken and wounded person can lean on, because I am broken and wounded myself. Today was a reminder of this as I had a conversation with somebody dealing with problems from a family strained to the extreme by life. I saw my unworthiness as I entered a discussion with a friend struggling to find theological answers to a life's dilemma. I felt very inadequate as I listened to somebody I consider a close friend admit to some serious demons they are facing in life. I felt exposed as I shared some of my own to the same person.
My solace today is the thoughts gained by my reading of Eugene Peterson, who reminds me that as a future pastor, I don't need to have all the answers....Jesus already does. My job is to pray, and to help those around me pray. My job is not to heal those around me, but to point them to the true healer, our lord and savior. These thoughts and ideas sometimes seem overused and rather blah, but in times of extreme hurt and pain, they can shine through. I remember a time when prayer was maybe all that got me through. It wasn't a pastor, or a teacher, or even my mother who I cried to, but to Jesus. I still don't always feel adequate to be the one who people come to for the answers. The human in me wants to have them all, but my prayer for today is that I will be able to help direct people to the answers. Not the answers that I give them, but the answers that are given to them through the Holy Spirit.

Weak and wounded sinner
Lost and left to die
O, raise your head, for love is passing by
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus and live!

Now your burden's lifted
And carried far away
And precious blood has washed away the stain, so
Sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus and live!

And like a newborn baby
Don't be afraid to crawl
And remember when you walk Sometimes we fall...so
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus and live!

Sometimes the way is lonely
And steep and filled with pain
So if your sky is dark and pours the rain, then
Cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus and live!

O, and when the love spills over
And music fills the night
And when you can't contain your joy inside, then
Dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus and live!

And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!

- Chris Rice - Untitled Hymn (Come To Jesus)

Prayer in the Words

I don't know why it has been a chore for me to write as of late. It confuses me that something that was once a treasured part of my life, has become of late something that I see as a chore. Seeing my journaling in this light has caused me to stop doing something that has really and truly been a source of great comfort and reflection. I guess that some of this has been due to the fact that I already do a great deal of writing in my everyday life, and to sit down at a keyboard and write for another hour, as a devotional, seems a waste of time. The problem I run into though is that this form of writing tends to be very therapeutic and helps me to order my thoughts and feelings. I have gone through the gambit with disorganized thoughts and feelings this semester of school, and I have a hunch that much of this is due to my hesitancy to spend the time to write what is on my mind.There is I think, a second reason that I have been hesitant to write though, and that is fear. Some of the topics that I have explored over this semester, and before to be truthful, are issues that can be very divisive in the world and in the church. I tend to have some strong thoughts on these topics, but I also hate confrontation. I don't like the idea that if I explore my feelings online, others may be hurt or offended. As I go into ministry I worry that I may not be confrontational enough with my congregation and my community. I think that one of the biggest problems we have in this country is a feeling of indifference, and if our pastors and religious leaders are not willing to step up in love to challenge the status quo of society, then the message of the Gospel (oftentimes the offensive message of the Gospel) may be watered down too much. It scares me that I may become something that I don't like by my fear of offending somebody. It's also a scare to me that my blog could be used against me as I search for a church in the next couple of years. I think it's important to be honest in searching for a call, and I always try to be very honest in my writing, and careful about what I say, but I can't escape the feeling sometimes that I may be saying things that rule me out of a Church that is a good fit for me. I also have been hesitant to write over the past six months or so because many of the thoughts and emotions I have been wrestling with have related to people who have been known to be readers of this blog. I have enjoyed my journaling process because it makes me look at people and situations in a good light, due to the fact that anybody can read it. This is great in helping me reframe situations. My problem is that sometimes being honest with myself won't let me be completely honest with the world. Nobody likes to admit faults to themselves, let alone online. It becomes something fearful and uncomfortable. It's through the process of confession and laying things on the line though that we find healing. It's an easy thing to say though, and another to show that faith through action.A friend has inspired me to begin writing again, due to their very passionate and honest exploring of a difficult situation. I miss feeling free to express my thoughts, feelings, perspectives, daydreams, inspirations, and just basic ramblings to the world, and to myself though, so my honest hope is that I can learn to recapture this great devotion. I realize that in writing these posts I experience a very real and honest form of prayer to God, one that I am not capable of experiencing without these printed (or electronic) words. Glory be to God.

A Life's Journey

I like words, but sometimes they are not adequate....