The Little Minister

The Variable

2013-05-23T21:51:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Theology Thursdays!

Is it bad that I haven't given much thought to what I'm going to write before sitting down? Haven't given much thought is really code for, "I've been putting this off all day, I don't know what theological topic to discuss, I've just been watching Season 5 of Lost on Netflix."

But, well, I guess Lost is an okay place to begin. The show certainly wrestles with big questions and themes. Let's talk about Daniel circa "The Variable." Actually, let's sum up Season 5 first. Basically, Season 5 is my (and everyone else's) least favorite season of Lost. The writers had no idea what they were doing, so they threw in a bunch of time travel (yes, you heard me right) and tears and angst and, oh, don't forget the nuclear bomb.

To summarize: At the end of Season 4, Ben turned the magic wheel to move the Island so Widmore's people couldn't catch him, but he doesn't turn it correctly so it starts malfunctioning, causing the Island and everyone on it to travel through time. Daniel and his motley crew get caught by the Others in the 1950s and are confused for some U.S. soldiers that are stationed on the Island to test atomic bombs in the South Pacific. Daniel is forced at gunpoint to deactivate it (his 17-year-old mother is the one holding him at gunpoint).

Then they all time travel again, and end up in the 1970s during the Dharma Initiative. Now Daniel is back to his usual work as a physicist. (I promise I'm trying to summarize this as quickly as I can.) They dig the atomic bomb back up, because Daniel wants to detonate it in a pocket of electromagnetic energy because he believes it will prevent Oceanic 815 from crashing on the Island in 2004. The problem is, he doesn't know where the Others buried it, so he strolls into their camp and his now-37-year-old mother shoots him.

The thing is, his mother, in 2004, tells him to go to the Island. And she remembered shooting him thirty years before. And she still sent her son to the Island, to his death. She knew this. And she did it, anyway. Why? Because Lost operates under an assumption of fate.

Everything happens for a reason in the world of the Island. Eloise sent Daniel to his death because it had to be that way, because Daniel had to tell Jack and Kate and everyone else to detonate the bomb in the pocket of electromagnetic energy because, as it turns out, it didn't prevent Oceanic 815 from crashing--it caused the crash. And 815 had to crash on the Island because the passengers had been handpicked by Jacob, the Island's protector, as possible replacements. What happened, happened.

I believe that God has some ultimate plan for the world, and I believe that somehow, all of our combined choices will lead to it. However, I don't believe that everything happens for a reason. I don't believe that every minute decision we make is what was meant to happen.

That's my issue with predestination. It's just not "free-will-y" enough for me (on another note, Free Willy was a really cute movie). I don't like the idea that God chooses those that will choose Him. In the same way, I don't like the idea that we were always going to make every choice we were going to make, because it's all a part of "God's plan." Free will is free will is free will. In my mind, fate and free will run on parallel paths. There's no crossover.

How does that work, you may ask? I don't believe in fate, but I believe that there's some ultimate plan? Well, maybe it doesn't work all that well, but here's how I see it: Life, time, creation, whatever you want to call it, is a mountain. The end of time (but not the end times, because Revelation freaks me out a bit, but that's a touchy topic for another day) is the top of the mountain, and eventually, we're going to reach it. However, there are countless ways we can reach the mountain. There are hundreds of thousands of different trails to the top, maybe we climb instead of hike, hey, maybe we helicopter to the top for all I care. However we get there, we get there. And then we're there.

Daniel is the saddest character in Lost, in my opinion. Everyone is broken, and everyone is lost (gee, do you think that could have something to do with the name of the show?), but there's just something more broken down about him. Does that make sense? Poor Daniel.

Peace be with you.

B(re)aking Bread

2013-05-22T15:35:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Review Wednesdays!

One of my fabulous friends suggested "Written Wednesdays" to continue with the alliteration. I'm still searching for a more accurate title (I write every day, after all, but perhaps reviews are more written than others?) but until then...

In the future these reviews will undoubtedly be about books I read, movies I see (you know--things that normally get reviewed), but for today, I'm going to review a recipe. You see, today I made Steamy Kitchen's No Knead Bread (well, today and yesterday, because it's a two-day project), and let me just say, oh my goodness how have I never baked bread before.

A wonderful, delicious lunch.

This actually may be the best bread I've ever tasted. I may be in love. I highly, highly recommend it. I've never made bread before, and I was convinced I was going to mess up, but hey, it was a simple enough recipe (the author's four-year-old son did it). I want to say I'm never going back to store-bought loaves, but I probably will at one point or another. But next year at the Wesley, when I get to cook for myself? Totally making this 1-2 times a week.

There's something special about making bread from scratch. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there some mysterious aspect of Communion throughout the whole process. That, and I literally broke the bread when my knife couldn't cut all the way through. It was all vaguely spiritual, which made baking all the more enjoyable. I look forward to more bread adventures!

Peace be with you.

Snapshot: San Isidro

2013-05-21T17:19:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Typical Tuesdays!

(See, I told you Snapshots counted for these days.) Here's an overview of Wesley's week in Costa Rica. This is in no way exhaustive, and certainly leaves much to be discussed, but for today, it'll suffice.

Playing a game of soccer/fútbol.

Our first night there, we all went out to an indoor soccer field. "We" was our group from Wesley, a church group from North Carolina, and some of the local youth from the Methodist church in San Isidro. I didn't play, partially because I'm really no good at soccer, and partially because my allergies were just awful the first few days we were in the country, and I really didn't have the energy.

See that paint? I did that.

After several days of various illnesses (allergies Tuesday and Wednesday, then a terrible flu on Thursday that also incapacitated four other Wesleyites), I finally got to do some real work at the church on Friday. A few other girls and I painted the two Sunday school rooms a really pretty shade of green, singing Disney songs the whole while. It was a good time.

The amazing Nauyaca Falls.

On Saturday, our final full day in Costa Rica, we went to one of the national parks and went horseback riding to the Nauyaca Falls. As you can see from the picture above (all of these photos were taken by my friend Andrew, by the way), they were pretty spectacular, and well worth the ride.

The white horse on the right is Paleto.

I had the most riding experience out of everyone in our group, so I was given the fast horse, Paleto (which means Polish in Spanish, I think). He was a beautiful white horse with black speckles all over, and we led the group all the way. Well, not led so much as, we were so far ahead of everyone else that I wasn't always sure there was an "everyone else." Anyway, we bonded.

From left: Max, Meredith, Alexa, Owen, and me.

It was such a fun week. More than that, it was such a moving week. We served the congregation in San Isidro, and they served us right back. Wil, the founder of Costa Rica Mission Projects, told us that he wants everyone who comes to serve to experience five things: Prayer, fellowship, worship, service, and witness. We witnessed simply be driving into the neighborhood every day to work at the church. We worshiped together multiple times, we certainly prayed together, and we all served each other. And we definitely had plenty of fellowship with our brothers and sisters in Christ all week long, from that first soccer game on Monday to finishing painting on Friday!

I'm sure there'll be much more to say about our work in Costa Rica in future blog posts. Until then, peace be with you.

To Put on Christ

2013-05-20T19:31:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Messy Mondays!

In The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus, Brennan Manning discusses the parable of the sower and the four kinds of people who hear the Gospel. There are the "insensitive," those who hear the Word but don't let it into their hearts; the "superficial," those who are receive the Gospel but don't allow it to take root; the "defeated," those who receive the Gospel but whose love for Jesus is overshadowed by love for the world; and the "victorious," the rich soil, those who receive the Gospel and let it into their hearts.

Then the victorious are split into three groups: The 30-percenters, who are "involved in church-related activities" and "build an agreeable world of nice people" but fail to experience the truth of the Gospel; the 60-percenters, who are "genuinely other-centered" and believe that Christianity "means loving others" but is not "incandescently transformed" by the power of the Gospel; and the 100-percenters, who have a "fiery faith"and "drop everything and run for Christ." My favorite quote about the 100-percenters is,

Like when a tornado comes ripping down the street. You can't postpone a decision. You can't procrastinate. This is the salvific now. Leave your mother and father, mutilate yourself for the Kingdom, pluck out your eye, cut off your hand, but for Christ's sake, for the love of Jesus Christ, don't let the invitation go unanswered. What does the loss of reputation, popularity, status, life itself mean in comparison with the gain of Christ Jesus? ... Open up! This is not an Avon salesperson at the door. It is the Son of God. His invitation is to be treated with unconditional seriousness.

Reading, I immediately tried to categorize myself, as I'm sure Manning intended. Manning always does a fantastic job of urging you to examine your faith and see if you're living the Christ-like life you think you're living. I knew I was at least at the 60-percenter mark. But I couldn't in all honesty place myself in the 100-percenter range. Intellectually, I want to do the will of God and I love Him more than anything in the world, but had I been burned by the passion and power of the Gospel? Had I been irrevocably changed?

I can't imagine not being a Christian--it's my entire life--but am I rapturously, achingly, completely, wholly in love with Jesus? I don't know.

I want to be. I want to want nothing more than to love God with all my heart and soul and mind. I want to want to love my neighbor as myself. I want to "put on Christ," as Manning says. To get ready in the morning, to get dressed as Christ and in His love and to start each day with Him. And that's the beginning, I suppose. Wanting it. And I truly do.

Peace be with you.

Summer Callin'

2013-05-20T12:11:00.000-04:00

I have so much to say about Costa Rica, but I'd rather talk about it in smaller spurts, little by little, than all at once in a single post. I feel so blessed to have spent the past week with our Costa Rican brothers and sisters in Christ. I also feel very blessed to be home for the summer. I'm excited for the next few months. I have amazing plans for the summer, and I also have plans for this blog. Starting today (later today, that is) I'm going to have a set schedule of posting that I'll try my darnedest to stick to. It is as follows:

Messy Mondays, in which I discuss my personal growth in my faith, what I want to see in it, what I don't like, what I'm praying for.

Typical Tuesdays, in which I am free to write whatever my heart desires, as long as I write something. On My Mind's and Snapshot's fall into this category, but I still possess the right to use those however and whenever I so choose (basically, they fall into every category). Named "Typical" because prior to this summer schedule, I really just wrote whatever my heart desired, so Tuesdays are a continuation of that tradition.

Review Wednesdays, in which I harken back to my childhood when I often switched around my R's and W's (also, I couldn't think of an alliteration) and review books, movies, etc. in relation to my faith and Christianity at large.

Theology Thursdays, in which I have endless fun discussing, you guessed it, various theologies. You know I'll love this one.

On Fridays I write for the Wesley Blog, so you'll probably see me advertising for that every now and then. Saturdays and Sundays are my free days--I can either choose to write or not. Until later today, I wish you all the very best.

It Is Enough: May

2013-05-14T12:00:00.000-04:00

I'm actually writing this on Sunday night, because I'm leaving for Costa Rica tomorrow morning and won't have access to internet while I'm there. Anyway, read on:

#ItIsEnough was founded on December 14, 2012 and is, to quote their Facebook page, "an informal coalition of Christians who use social media to raise awareness of gun violence and speak out in favor of stronger gun laws." The coalition remembers the tragedy of Sandy Hook and all other instances of gun violence by posting on the 14th of every month.

Whenever someone finds out where I stand on gun control--really, whenever someone finds out that I'm a pacifist--I always feel the need to defend my beliefs. I'll say, "I want stronger gun laws," and in the same breath say something that's basically code for, "I know this is a really controversial topic please don't judge me." I understand that gun control is way more complicated than what I sometimes make it out to be, and I understand that I don't understand it very well. I want to understand it better.

The thing that bothers me is, I defend myself when I say I don't like guns, and I don't think that's something that should need defending. Part of me is very disturbed that some people defend our "right" to what really amounts to an easier way to kill one another, but I know there's more to it than that. I've never been comfortable with the idea of guns, but as I've gotten older, that discomfort has only grown. Even now, as I'm writing this, I find myself tacking on "I know there's more to it than that" after saying how I feel, and I hate that. I'd go back and edit that out, but it's a perfect illustration of what I was trying to say.

My point (now that I'm finally getting to it) is that I don't want to feel the need to defend myself when I state what I believe, but in order to do that in good conscience, I want to educate myself more on the topic. So this is my promise, right here on this blog, to learn more about the intricacies of gun control and prayerfully reflect on what I find.

Until next month, peace be with you.

And Now, Costa Rica

2013-05-12T21:01:00.001-04:00

In the wee hours of tomorrow morning, Wesley will head off to Richmond International. We land in San José before noon, and we should be in the town we'll be staying in by the middle of the afternoon.

I'm excited, but a little nervous, too. I don't know the language (here's where taking five years of French ceases to be the best idea I ever had) and I don't know the culture, the climate, the customs. As always when confronted with new things, I worry. I'm not an adventurous eater; will the food be okay? I can be a bit awkward sometimes; can I still make a difference if I'm at a loss for words? I worry that everything will go wrong, so I pray.

I pray for guidance during this time. I pray for strong arms and firm footing, for a not so clumsy Cara in our construction work at the church. I pray that words will come even if there's a language barrier, because you can never underestimate the power of some good, elaborate hand gestures (here's where years of theatre come in handy). I pray for peace within myself, an eagerness and willingness to trust God. I pray for the courage to try new things, even if it's something I never imagined myself doing (especially then). I pray for help to relax, to let go, to just have fun.

In seven hours, we'll be in the car on our way!

Peace.

Snapshot: Graduation Weekend

2013-05-10T08:12:00.000-04:00

It's almost time for graduation at the College! I can't believe my sister is going to be a real adult in just two short days. On Monday, she's moving up to Washington D.C. and into a townhouse with some other W&M grads (and meanwhile, I'll be flying to Costa Rica). I could not be more excited for her.

Graduation weekend means family, and lots of it. My parents arrived by car on Wednesday, and yesterday my great-uncles, an aunt and uncle, and another aunt and uncle and their three kids all flew in from Florida and Georgia. Needless to say, it's been a party. The kids and Meredith and I explored Colonial Williamsburg afternoon. You can tell we had a fun time:

Meredith with Jack, and Emilia with Rosie.

Please forgive me for not having many faith-related blog posts recently. I suppose you could say my LOTR posts from the last few days (which I've now edited to include a Read More link so non-LOTR fans can skip by the large chunks of text) were faith-related, because they dealt with redemption. My only excuse is, it's been a busy week and I like to take time to put a little more thought into those posts. Posts like these, however, are more of a slightly-focused stream of consciousness, and are therefore much easier when I'm sitting in a hotel room with my hair in a towel waiting for it to dry.

Today we're renting the kids costumes, which I'm very excited about. They're just about the cutest (and most realistic) colonial outfits ever. I almost want to dress up, myself. It's shaping up to be a fun day!

Peace be with you.

Redemption in "The Lord of the Rings"

2013-05-07T13:04:00.001-04:00

Last night, I found myself ranting to my parents over Skype about the lack of redemption in The Lord of the Rings. I was scandalized. I'll admit I was a little hurt, as well, because I was taking this all very personally. My favorite book has been The Hobbit since I read it when I was eight; the movies have been my favorites since I saw them in theaters (whether or not I was old enough to see such violent movies is debatable, but what's past is past). I loved reading the trilogy this winter, and I'm thoroughly enjoying The Silmarillion right now. But Tolkien had left something out.

Alas, readers, my knowledge of Middle-earth forsook me last night. Just as I was getting really worked up about how Gollum/Sméagol never stood a chance at the end, my dad said, "What about the ghost king?"

Ah, the men of Dunharrow. The dead men of Dunharrow, hence the whole "ghost" part. Do they not get redeemed? For those of you who are confused, you clearly haven't seen The Return of the King. Long ago, the men of Dunharrow swore an oath to come to Isildur's aid against Mordor, but when the time came for them to fulfill their promise, they did not come. Isildur cursed them, dooming them to have no rest in death. And so they died, and remained trapped in Middle-earth. That's when Aragorn comes in. As the heir of Isildur, he has the power to release them from this curse, but only if they fight alongside Gondor at the Battle of Pelennor Fields. And they do.

The oathbreakers fulfill their oath, and they are redeemed. I still wish more of the evil and enslaved races could be redeemed, but I thought I should correct myself. There is redemption in The Lord of the Rings, after all.

No hard feelings, Tolkien, right? Peace.

On My Mind: The Two Towers

2013-05-06T16:39:00.001-04:00

Tolkien, I have a bone to pick with you. Bear with me, beloved readers--there is a point to this post. It might sound like nerdy rambling for the first paragraph or two (or five), but I'll do my best to make this worth reading. Without further ado, I present my humble criticism of the laws governing Middle-earth.

As you all may have read yesterday, I watched The Two Towers last night (and ate some delicious chocolate cake while doing so). Twice in the movie, we see evil men. First are the Dunlendings--a sort of wild, stunted, and vicious tribe who inhabits the less-than-picturesque land near Rohan. If you've seen the movies, you know Rohan is gorgeous and has land aplenty, but Dunland (from where the Dunlendings get their name) is not so lucky. The harsh terrain is inhospitable, and the Dunlendings have long envied the people of Rohan. In the second installment of the trilogy, we see Saruman convince the Dunlendings that enough is enough; it is time to destroy Rohan. The men pillage the towns, burning crops and homes, leaving none alive.

Next are the Haradrim. They play a much bigger part in The Return of the King when they go up against the Rohirrim at the Battle of Pelennor Fields (along with even more evil men, the Easterlings and the men of Umbar), but we first see them in The Two Towers when Faramir leads a raid against them before capturing Frodo, Sam, and Sméagol. The Haradrim are from Harad in the south of Middle-earth and are ancient enemies of Gondor. If it helps jog your memory, it's the Haradrim that have the oliphaunts (or Mûmakil, if we're going to use the proper terms--picture elephants, but bigger and angrier).

My point is, there are evil men in The Lord of the Rings. The laws of Tolkien's Middle-earth allows for men to choose evil. We can safely assume that elves can also choose evil, because orcs were once elves. Dwarves aren't particularly good or bad, they're more benign than anything else, but they still do more good than evil. I don't think an evil hobbit exists (unless you count the Sackville-Bagginses' mean-spiritedness as evil). Men, elves, dwarves, hobbits, and Ents are the "good" races of Middle-earth. They are good, but they can still do evil. Okay, stick with me and hold that thought.

Now look at the "bad" races: Orcs, goblins, Uruk-hai, Balrogs, Wargs, dragons, trolls, the Nazgul, and giant spiders. These are the inherently evil races. Can they choose good? The Nazgul were once great kings of men who, when given the nine rings by Sauron, fell into darkness. As men, they chose evil, and became evil. But has any one of the "bad" races ever done anything good of its own volition? No. Here, Tolkien, I call foul.

It's not a one-way street. If the good can choose evil, the evil can choose good. When I had this realization, I wanted to go back in time and shake J.R.R. Tolkien and tell him to stop messing with my world view. It isn't just. If the kings of old could become the Nazgul, is there no hope for them?

The Lord of the Rings makes the reader think about the allure and dangers of power, temptation, and addiction. It exults courage and sacrifice. It is about good fighting evil, hope triumphing over despair. It tells the reader that loss is a part of life, that farewells don't have to be sad, and that death isn't what we should fear--that the pursuit of deathlessness (as said by Tolkien himself), of escaping death, is what we should be careful of, because it will never work. It's about fate or free will, if both coexist or if one is an illusion. People have said for years that The Lord of the Rings has not one Christ figure, but three: Gandalf, Frodo, and Aragorn. There are a lot of heavy themes (not to mention endless symbolism) in these books.

But redemption? Where is the redemption for the Nazgul? They have none. The Witch-king of Angmar is killed by a grammatical loophole (he couldn't be killed by a man, so Eowyn--a woman--kills him). For Gollum? His love for the ring destroys him, driving him into the fires of Mount Doom. Once the ring has been destroyed, the ground crumbles beneath the army of Mordor in the Battle of the Morannon, sending them to their deaths. There is no redemption for the evil and enslaved races in The Lord of the Rings. There is no chance for them to do good or to apologize for what they've done.

For everything that is good and amazing about The Lord of the Rings, this is a glaring error that I'm having serious trouble overlooking. I know that odds are, Tolkien simply didn't think this all through when he was writing. He didn't focus on the evil races; they were the enemy, a plot device, a symbol of everything wrong in the world. I love Middle-earth, but I feel like I've stumbled into a darker part of it, and I don't care for what I've found.

I still love The Lord of the Rings, though.

Peace be with you.

Finals, Once More

2013-05-05T12:29:00.001-04:00

I'm at the Caf again. It turns out that it doesn't open at nine on Sundays like it does every other day, so I've only been here since ten. But if it makes me look more studious, I was literally the first person to swipe in at precisely 10:00.00 (okay, maybe not that precisely). I have my favorite booth--maximum visibility, so I can see people I know, but the high back of the booth is on my side, so no one can see my Legolas-wants-you-to-study background that would bring harsh judgment upon me. I'm also by my favorite food station that makes the best grilled broccoli ever, and the fans are the right distance away so I'm not too hot but there's no wind to disturb my Stats notebook.

Was that too much information?

My current laptop background...come at me, judgment.

I've discovered the best study breaks known to man: The Lord of the Rings, extended editions. My beautiful friend Whitney owns the extended trilogy, so the following is our plan of action:

Yesterday we watched The Fellowship of the Ring and made yellow cake because it's symbolic of the innocence of the Shire and the hope that the Fellowship has before being torn apart;
Tonight we're going to watch The Two Towers and make chocolate cake because it's symbolic of the darkness that descends on Middle-earth and how it's always darkest before the dawn, and the second part of the trilogy is always the saddest because it looks like there's just no hope, which is why it's my least favorite;
And finally, on Tuesday we're going to watch The Return of the King and make red velvet cake simply because, well, there's a lot of fighting in that movie and that means blood (yes, we're morbid, but we wanted a reason for the red velvet cake and finals have fried our brains and it's not our fault stop judging us).

Have I mentioned I like The Lord of the Rings?

We're skipping Monday because we're responsible students and we're dedicating that day to studying for Statistics. I'm going to be so happy when Stats is gone and out of my life. I've had my final class, I've taken my final quiz, and only the final itself remains. I'm so close.

Once my finals are over on Wednesday, I'm home free. Well, almost. This upcoming weekend is graduation (for my sister, so naturally I will be in attendance), and then I'll be going to Costa Rica for a week with Wesley. I'm going to be flying into Chicago on May 19--which is Pentecost! I find that strangely exciting (but I'm weird, so the church calendar tends to strangely excite me). Then I'll finally be home. So, so close.

Peace be with you.

When I Don't Know What to Say...

2013-05-03T10:00:00.003-04:00

...I write for Wesley.

Peace be with you.

On My Mind: Finals Season

2013-04-30T11:40:00.000-04:00

For the past four days, I have woken up at nine, put on a t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants, and trudged over to the Caf with a few hall mates for some hardcore studying. We have arrived, scouted out one of the super-booths (amazingly comfortable and spacious, let me tell you), eaten, and begun. Since Saturday, I have spent a total of seventeen hours in this place.

The breakdown of productivity:

~12 hours actually studying
2 hours eating and socializing with aforementioned hall mates
3 hours goofing off on my laptop

Not bad, I must say. Almost every time I've strayed from studying and moved into the goofing-off realm of time, I've thought, Hey, I should write a blog post. That clearly hasn't happened. Instead, I've mostly been involved with a little past time I like to call "Picture Folder for the Facebook Apocalypse."

I think it's only a matter of time before Facebook, well, dies. MySpace died in about as much time (probably less, but that was before I was on the interwebs). Google+ lasted, like, a month (but I still have one, shh). I just don't think Facebook is going to last. Anyway, I have this irrational fear that when it does die, it's just going to disappear, and I'm going to lose all of my pictures. Although I know that when it does die, it won't really die, and we'll still have our profiles (we'll just forget we have them), I worry.

This post has a lot of strangely-concocted sentence structure.

And so I've been adding pictures to a special folder on my laptop called "Facebook" (creative, I know). Little by little, I go through my tagged photos and cull, taking only the pictures I can imagine myself looking back on fondly when I'm older. That's still most of them, because I'm really only leaving out those annoying bulk-tag pictures that I'm not actually in and make me now wonder, Why did that person even tag me in the first place?

Bottom line: When the Facebook Apocalypse comes, I'm prepared.

Time to get back to studying. I've done my first round of basic studying--10 to 20 minutes per subject, as my Psych professor suggested (he had science to back him, how could I refuse?)--for every class. Except. Statistics. Because I can't really do a first round for Stats, because it's math, and it's not enough to just talk yourself through the notes, you have to do practice problems.

Wish me luck. Peace.

Blowout with Wesley

2013-04-26T08:35:00.003-04:00

The last day of classes are here, at long last! Read about what I've got in store for today here on the Wesley Blog!!

Peace be with you.

The God Who Yearns and Waits for Us

2013-04-23T16:43:00.001-04:00

A prayer from Brueggemann's Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth:

We are strange conundrums of faithfulness and fickleness.
We cleave to you in all the ways that we are able.
We count on you and intend our lives to be lived for you,
and then we find ourselves among your people
who are always seeking elsewhere and otherwise.
So we give thanks that you are the God
who yearns and waits for us,
and that our connection to you is always from your side,
  and that it is because of your goodness
  that neither life nor death
   nor angels nor principalities
   nor heights nor depths
   nor anything in creation
      can separate us from you.
We give you thanks for your faithfulness,
so much more durable than ours. Amen.

Peace be with you.

Ch-Ch-Changes!

2013-04-22T22:51:00.000-04:00

In between studying for finals, I fiddle with random things on my computer. I've been meaning to update my blog banner for quite some time, and I finally got around to it today. The color scheme has also changed--much more William & Mary-rific now, if I do say so myself!

If you miss the old banner, never fear; you can still find it here. For future reference, that's where you can find any of the old layouts of this blog.

Spring, Almost

2013-04-22T11:11:00.001-04:00

The last week of classes is finally here. Can I get a round of applause? Yes, friends, the end is in sight; in three short weeks, I will be finished with finals and will officially complete my freshman year of college. To all those naysayers who said I couldn't do it: There were none, so I really have nothing to say to you! To the small part of me who has been doing some naysaying ever since I arrived on campus on August 24: Still naysaying? Kind of? Well, stop. Congratulations, you did it. You are smart enough for college.

Being the last full week of April in Virginia, you'd think it would be all sunshine and rainbows. Not so, my dear readers, not so. I blame the "Noah's flood"-esque storm that traveled here from the Midwest over the weekend, which succeeded in yanking down the temperature to the ungodly 60s. Yes, I know; just a month and a half ago, I would have been rejoicing if the weather had been in the 60s. Now, however, I've been spoiled by two weeks of 80-degree days. Need. Warmth. Now. I just have to hold out until Wednesday--the forecast is a beautiful 81 degrees. Yes, please.

In other news, this being the last week of classes means I only have two Stats classes left before I'm done with math forever. I never thought this day would come. I might cry with joy. If you see me dancing outside of Jones around 3:30 on Wednesday, you'll know what's up.

Peace be with you (and stay warm).

Called

2013-04-18T10:02:00.001-04:00

I like to write. And so I wrote:

-----

“Do you have something to ask me?”

I can hear the smile in his voice, the knowing. Of course I have something to ask him, and of course he would know that. I fidget at my desk for a minute. I add one more thing to my to-do list, a reminder to email my professor later about our upcoming final. I click the pen open and close a few times. I doodle on the edge of my planner. He doesn’t clear his throat. He waits, patient as always. He lets me take my time.

With a sigh, I push away from my desk, twisting in my chair to face him. He’s seated on my bed, one hand cupping his chin. He looks at me expectantly. Still waiting. I open my mouth, close it, and open it again. I suddenly picture myself clicking my pen open and close, open and close, just like my mouth is doing now. It's a funny mental picture.

I laugh, and he smiles again—kindly, warmly, and I feel foolish for hesitating for so long. “How do you know that you’re...called to something?” I ask.

He takes his sweet time responding, not as long as I took. “Think about what you feel called to do,” he says. “Does the idea of doing it make you happy?”

I think. I imagine myself in a little church office surrounded by all my books, cozying up with a cup of hot cocoa and a biblical commentary, ready to write a sermon. I imagine myself ministering to others and visiting parishioners in their homes or in hospitals, joining them in the most joyous times of their lives and in the midst of the most crushing times. I imagine breaking the bread and pouring the wine. I imagine all these things, and I feel joy dancing within me.

“Yes,” I say simply, because what more is there to say? I say it with laughter, and yet my eyes fill with tears. This is the strange joy I feel: Strange and magical and wonderful, so strong it makes my heart soar, so powerful it brings me to my knees, so beautiful I want to cry because I’m that happy.

“Then,” he tells me, “you are called.”

-----

This is how I like to picture my conversations with Jesus. They aren't the wordiest things around; there's more than plenty silence. They're mostly feelings. They're special moments. They mean a lot. Anyway, I know this is a much different format than how I usually do things, but I hope you liked it. Peace be with you.

A Ragamuffin

2013-04-17T16:26:00.000-04:00

I first read All is Grace this past February. It had been recommended, and as always, I decided to give it a try. I loved it, and the minute I was finished, I ordered The Signature of Jesus and The Ragamuffin Gospel off of Amazon, and read those in the following weeks. When I heard that Brennan Manning had passed away on Friday, I immediately ordered the two books of his I had left on my Amazon wish list--The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus and The Furious Longing of God. I'm glad I did; I found a new favorite quote.

From his website.

The gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind: to make brand-new creation. Not to make people with better morals but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers, men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within, who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God, who would enter into the center of it all, the very heart and mystery of Christ, into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love. This, my friend, is what it really means to be a Christian.

The Furious Longing of God

Thank you, Brennan. Peace be with you.

To Not Be Afraid

2013-04-16T17:40:00.000-04:00

I live in a bubble. I've always lived in a bubble. I grew up in one of the western suburbs of Chicago, surrounded by affluent and safe neighborhoods. I go to college in Colonial Williamsburg--a hub of American tourism, filled with the same sort of affluence and lack of crime I've become accustomed to. I've led a privileged and sheltered life. I've led a comfortable life, more than comfortable, a cushy life. I've always had brand new clothes to start the school year and enough food on my plate and a reliable, steady, happy home life. I'm blessed to live in a bubble; I like my bubble.

On September 11, my second grade teacher told my class that there had been bad accidents in New York and Washington D.C., and a lot of people were injured, and I remember being afraid, because my dad was in D.C. on a business trip. The minute my sister and I piled into the car to go home that afternoon, my mom set my worried little self at ease; he was safe.

One night in October of my senior year of high school, I was at rehearsal for a play. Before the director let us go home that night, he told us that a young girl had been killed in a nearby town, in my town, and that we should be careful driving home. I was pulled over as I entered my neighborhood, but as soon as the police realized I lived there, they let me through. My dad met me at my car and walked me inside. Even when I went home for spring break in March, there were still white ribbons tied to every tree in memory of her.

Last July, twelve people were gunned down in a movie theatre. Last August, a shooter entered a Sikh temple and killed six in worship. Last December, twenty children and six adults were killed in a school shooting. Yesterday, there was a bombing at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Investigators have found other bombs that were supposed to go off. Three people were killed, including an eight-year-old boy. Hundreds more were injured. At least ten people have had limbs amputated. At a press event, the president called the bombing an "act of terror."

I live in a bubble, and yet I don't. The bubble is in my head; it isn't real, and it never has been. However much I want to think I'm safe here surrounded by colonial reenactors and young adults who are arguably far too obsessed with the world of academia, I'm not. Ever since I was seven and wondered for the first time if my father was dead on 9/11, my world has been TSA security procedures and wars on terror and "if you see something, say something." I don't want to be afraid, but sometimes I don't feel like I have a choice.

I believe people are good, because God saw all that he had made, and it was very good (Gen. 1:31). We are made in His image, and nothing is more "good" than Him, so how can we not be, as well? I refuse to believe that there are evil people; there are only good people capable of terrible, evil deeds. I fight to see the good in people--I need to see it, or I don't know what I would do.

In times like these, I often joke that these events "mess with my worldview," because it's so impossible for me to imagine someone who could bomb a marathon and kill innocent people. I ask myself how God could have let this happen, and a small voice in my head always answers, "Well, He did give us free will, Cara. It wouldn't really be fair for Him to renege on that, now, would it?" to which I always reply that free will is stupid and why do we even have it anyway if some of us choose to use it to horrible ends.

The small voice in my head doesn't usually have an answer to that. I don't know why bad things happen to good people. God doesn't always make sense to me. God stopped Abraham from killing Isaac because Abraham was willing to sacrifice his only son for God, thus proving his faith. However, God doesn't appear to do anything to stop the killing of Christians in some parts of the world today who are willing to die for their faith. Abraham's faith saved Isaac, so why can't the faith of persecuted Christians save them?

My pastor Katherine wrote in her blog on Monday for #ItIsEnough, quoting the sung blessing that we often have at the end of our services:

Surely it is God who saves me,
I will trust in Him and not be afraid.
For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense,
and He will be my Savior.

It's easy to be afraid when there are horrible things going on in the world. It's terrifying when you see or hear about them. A part of me is afraid of going to downtown Chicago, just in case. A part of me is worried about the possibility of a school shooting, no matter how unlikely. A huge part of me fears for my future children, and the dangers they could be exposed to. I'm afraid, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life in fear, and so I pray. I will trust in Him and not be afraid. With the help of God, I want to learn how to not be afraid.

Katherine wrote, "To be saved by God is not to be exempt from suffering. It's just that the suffering will never have the final word." Believing in Jesus doesn't mean your life is magically fixed and you'll never feel pain again, but it does mean you have the ultimate second in your corner: Jesus, ready to help you pick up the pieces and come back bigger and better than ever. Fear is strong, and it can be crippling, but God is always stronger.

Peace be with you.

It Is Enough: April

2013-04-14T11:08:00.000-04:00

#ItIsEnough was founded on December 14, 2012 and is, to quote their Facebook page, "an informal coalition of Christians who use social media to raise awareness of gun violence and speak out in favor of stronger gun laws." The coalition remembers the tragedy of Sandy Hook and all other instances of gun violence by posting on the 14th of every month.

From the Gun Show Gallery.

I would replace "one child" with "one life."

I want to live in a world without gun violence. I want to live in a world where it takes more than pulling a trigger to take another person's life. I want to live in a world where people don't want to take another person's life.

Why is that too much to ask?

Funky Friday with Wesley

2013-04-12T11:14:00.000-04:00

I'm running out of ways to blatantly advertise the Wesley Blog. Anyway, if you're interested, you can read today's random-yet-thoughful post by me here.

Peace be with you on this (rainy) day!

Snapshot: Spring Has Sprung!

2013-04-09T17:21:00.000-04:00

It's official: After two 80-degree days, spring has finally come to Williamsburg! I, along with the rest of the student body, welcome this beautiful weather with open arms. Literally. I've gone sleeveless for the past three days, and I plan to keep the streak up as long as I'm able. I've packed away my winter and fall coats once and for all, and I 100% refuse to take them out again this year.

The Sunken Gardens.

For those of you who don't know, the Sunken Gardens is like our campus quad (not like, it is). Just look at how green the grass is and how blue the sky is. After months of needing pants or tights on our legs and long sleeves on our arms, it feels so amazing to let the sun warm our skin. My professors have all been letting my classes out early this week; none of us can escape spring fever! It's shocking to me that I'm writing this from my dorm room, but my laptop was dying, so you know how it is. Nature is good for a lot of things, but electricity isn't one of them (well, except for lightning, I guess).

Now, off to finish my second Torah essay! I get to pretend to be a medieval rabbi and interpret a passage of my choice. I'm dissecting Genesis 40--very fun! Peace be with you on this amazing day!!

I AM W&M: The 2nd Annual LGBTIQA Pride Festival

2013-04-06T17:46:00.001-04:00

This week is I AM W&M Week, which is a time every year when the student body celebrates its diversity. Today was the LGBTIQA Pride Festival, and Wesley had a table. We got some weird looks, undoubtedly because we're a campus ministry at a pride event, but overall it was a great experience. A lot of students came up and thanked us for showing our support, and we passed out a bunch of free Wesley cups and t-shirts. There were also drag performances. Here's a clip of one:

Marni and I could not get over how fabulous she was, and I can't help but think Jesus thought she was pretty fabulous, too. The moment she started performing, everyone else was up and dancing with her. It was so fun, and I'm so glad Wesley had a presence there. As the guy at the table next to us said, it's nice to see Christians not being hateful towards the LGBTIQA community. Our response to that was, Jesus told us to love, so why would we ever consider acting differently? And to that I say, amen!

Peace be with you on this beautiful, almost-spring day!

This I Believe

2013-04-05T11:09:00.001-04:00

Another Friday on the Wesley blog, another fun day of writing whatever my heart desires (as if this blog wasn't already exactly that). Anyway, for today's post I decided to write a sort of statement of faith. If you're interested (you totally are, don't lie), click here.

Peace be with you on this day!