Laura Ziesel

Was Jesus the Bible Incarnate?

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Wed, 15 May 2013 23:36:00 +0000

A former colleague of mine, talking to a group of college students under her care, held up her Bible and said, "This is not God."

It was a little scandalous.

It should not have been.

Rachel Held Evan's recent post, Is God's Presence Limited to Scripture, reminded me that I've been meaning to articulate an observation for awhile. The observation has to do with John 1, particularly these lines:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.... And the Word became flesh and lived among us. (1:1, 14a NRSV)

My observation is that people read John 1 this way:

In the beginning was the Bible, and the Bible was with God, and the Bible was God..... And the Bible became flesh and lived among us.

And that, my friends, is not what John was saying.

I don't know if other cultures do this, but American Christians like to use the word "Word" as a placeholder for "Bible" or "Scripture." As a result, it seems that some Bible readers and even teachers think that John 1 is talking about the Bible.

This has led to a view of Scripture that is often idolatrous. Scripture is not part of the Trinity. Don't get me wrong. Scripture is great. I love it, and want to spend my life helping others come to know God through it. It is food for our spirits, and truth for our minds. But Jesus is not an embodiment of Scripture. He is an embodiment of the One True and Holy God, the God about whom Scripture cries out.

So, what was John talking about if he was not talking about the Bible? John was speaking into the culture of his day, and he did so beautifully. John was talking about the Logos. He says:

In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God, and the Logos was God..... And the Logos became flesh and lived among us.

Now we translate the word Logos as Word, because that was/is the literal meaning in Greek. But the Greeks had a deeper, richer understanding of Logos. In short, to them the Logos was reason, or The Reason. The Logos is what explained reality, the argument stood behind and beneath, giving order to life. It was a philosophical concept that is hard to translate today, which is why Bible translators just go with "Word."

If we try to absorb what John was really saying, we will be brought to a state of worship. If Jesus is the Logos, we have every reason to follow Him, and turn to Him for answers, even when it appears there are none. In the Christ child, the answer to all of your questions came to Earth. Hallelujah!

Mother's Day Repurposed

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 18:48:00 +0000

I have had a complicated relationship with Mother's Day. Two year's ago, I was fresh off a miscarriage on Mother's Day, which as you can imagine, was quite painful. Last year I was pregnant, but finally bold enough to say that Mother's Day should be for everyone who mothers. Now, Mother's Day 2013 is right around the corner--May 12th.

This year, the first with a child of my own, I don't have any grand ideas of what Mother's Day will be like. I know some women dream of flowers and breakfast and bed, but I just don't. (Eating in bed? I have never enjoyed it.) But then, a couple of weeks ago, the WorldVision gift catalog came in the mail and I instantly thought, "Now this is something that could actually make Mother's Day enjoyable for me."

So, I'd like to propose that we turn Mother's Day into a day when we do something to actually help mothers, especially mothers who have gone without the healthcare, social support, education, or employment that I have had this year. I'm asking that my Mother's Day gift be redirected to one or more of these causes (my husband can choose from them), and I invite you to consider a similar idea.

WorldVision: New Mother and Baby Kit ($77)

WorldVision: Maternal Health in Afghanistan ($25)

WorldVision: Prevent HIV From Mothers to Children ($30)

WorldVision: Share of a Home for a Mother ($50)

World Harvest Mission: Drs. Scott and Jennifer Myhre, Kijabe Hospital, Kenya (any amount)

World Harvest Mission: Jonah Kule Family Care Fund (any amount)

Of course, I don't want to pass judgment on people who do receive Mother's Day gifts or appreciation from their loved ones. (I personally have been wanting one of these infiniti nursing scarves mostly because I think they're clever and cute, even though very impractical for our Southern California life. So I do understand using the opportunity of Mother's Day to get something nice that you've been wanting.) But I just thought I'd throw the idea out there for those who are as unenthused about Mother's Day as I am. Let's consider repurposing the day to help other mothers around the world.

On Going "All La Leche"

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Sun, 10 Mar 2013 04:41:00 +0000

I've started this post about four different ways. It keeps going in directions that I don't like. I think I am out of the habit of articulating myself.

But let's say this: now that I'm 6 months in as a breastfeeding mother, I've been thinking a lot about modesty, pain, nutrition, social pressure, and body image; I've been thinking a lot about breastfeeding in our society.

And the short version is, I've "gone all La Leche" as a friend put it. I've ditched nursing covers (but still try to be discreet if only to avoid extra attention), prioritized breast milk over all other sources of nutrition, and become a milk bank donor.

Literal blood, sweat, and tears have been a part of my breastfeeding story, as with most women.

Yet the part of me that I don't like about being all La Lechefied is that I am judgmental. I feel it, I see it, I hate it. But it's there. I don't even want to talk about this sin of mine because I have so many dear friends who I respect so deeply who, for one reason or another, stopped breastfeeding prematurely (according to my estimation).

And I feel the tug of the Mommy Wars. Oh, do I feel them.

But I am battling them as much as I can. It's hard sometimes, but I'm trying.

I've had to remind myself over and over that other mothers are the people I should be fighting for, not against. They do not need me to fix them.

So I have been focusing my mental energies, the ones that long to fight and fix things, on society. I'm not sure if this is good or not, but it's where I am right now. I want every employer to be as supportive of breastfeeding as mine has been. I want every church to have a convenient room for nursing babies, just like my church. I want every husband to be like mine and offer food and drinks to his nursing wife. I want every airport to have nursing rooms, like this awesome one. I want everyone to have breastfeeding advocates on speed dial and in the L&D room, just like me.

As I sit here (pumping) and re-read that last paragraph, I'm struck that my breastfeeding success has not been my own. I have been supported by dozens of people, and for them I am very, very grateful.

Some of them were actually you, blog friends. So thanks.

And I want to be here for any of you who need support. Even if you're not pregnant yet, even if you don't have kids for 10 years, please know that you have somewhere to turn for understanding, advice, and advocacy if you want or need it.

I hope to have more developed thoughts on breastfeeding in the future, but for now, I'm fighting the Mommy Wars inside of me.

The Redemptive Pursuit: Designed for Transformation

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Mon, 04 Mar 2013 11:59:00 +0000

Designed for Transformation

By Laura Ziesel
March 4, 2013

Scripture:
"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives and freedom to prisoners, to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, to grant those who mourn in Zion, giving them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instad of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting. So they will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified."-Isaiah 61:1-3

Reflection:

There's something in us that loves makeovers. From Oprah to The Biggest Loser to What Not To Wear, most of us have watched a makeover show. Some of us have even had makeovers for special events or to get out of a style rut. When I was about 12, my birthday party was a makeover slumber party, which basically meant we put on face masks and did our nails.

These types of makeovers are relatively easy. We use tools, heat, chemicals, and skill. And while I don't want to belittle the importance of physical makeovers, I am eager to point toward the reason we all love them: God designed us all for transformation.

Isaiah 61 is probably one of the best-known passages from the writings of the prophet Isaiah. In Luke 4, Jesus read verses 1-2a in the synagogue of his childhood. But what I love about this passage is that it shows us how completely God can transform us. The last sentence says, "They will be called oaks of righteousness." Who is this "they" that Isaiah speaks of? The same people who were previously the afflicted, brokenhearted, captives, prisoners, and mourners.

Yes, Jesus died to free us from things--sin, fears, disease, shame. But God's plan doesn't stop there. He doesn't free us and then leave us alone. He frees us for things--joy, good works, justice, righteousness. He has great plans for us, plans that are usually hidden from our view.

My hope for us is that we would care as much about our spiritual transformation as we do about our appearance. We invest almost countless amounts of time, money, and energy into transforming our hair, body, skin, and nails. I think we often forget that our spiritual transformation, even as Christians, isn't complete. While we've been freed from things, God is still directing us toward things, if we will only listen to him.

So let's ask God daily how he wants to transform us, as individuals, as families, as communities. And then let's invest as much in our spiritual selves as we do in our physical selves by participating in those things that facilitate transformation--reading Scripture, praying, serving, gathering together, laughing with friends.

Prayer:

Heavenly Father, You are perfect, and you know my every thought, fear, hope, and failure. Thank you for pursuing me and freeing me from those things that enslaved me. Continue to free me from the chains that I still wear. And transform me by the power of Your Spirit, so that I might be a mighty oak of righteousness, planted to bear good fruit for your glory.

___________

I will be posting my devotionals from The Redemptive Pursuit as they are published. Sign up to receive these weekly devotionals via email here. Follow The Redemptive Pursuit on Twitter or like us on Facebook. You can find all of my devotionals for them here.

Last Thoughts Before Sleep: Brought to You by the Woombie

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Fri, 01 Feb 2013 03:54:00 +0000

You need a little bit of backstory for this to make sense.

August has been breaking out of his swaddle every few hours for the past weeks. Prior to this, when the swaddle was holding him in, he was sleeping through the night for 10-11 hours (and then going back to sleep after eating for another hour or two). The swaddle failure resulted in him waking up and waking us up many times each night. Sunday, I gave in to the desperation and ordered some Woombies in the hopes that they would get us back to sleeping through the night. The Woombies arrived yesterday.

I finally went to bed last night at 11:46pm. I glance at August sound asleep in the monitor and these were my thoughts:

Sweet Lord Baby Jesus, please, please let August sleep through the night.

Wait, no, I really mean this prayer, I shouldn't use Sweet Lord Baby Jesus when praying seriously. How I address God matters.

What should I use?

Strong Lord King Jesus.

No, Lord and King are redundant; Strong King Jesus.

Yes, Strong King Jesus, please help August to sleep.

Man, I really need to turn stop thinking and just go to sleep.

But man, that Sweet Baby Jesus stuff really has crept into my thought life. Where did that come from? Glee? Something else? I mean, it's fine when I'm only looking for a parking spot and not really serious, but it should not be my go-to way to ask God for something.

I should blog about this.

Blog, haha, as if I actually blog anymore.

But this is important! The Sweet Baby Jesus thing has got to stop. I know it's not just me. How we address God matters. A lot.

Man, Dr. Lugioyo would probably get a kick out of this. [Seminary prof.]

I need to go to sleep!!!

[Insert thoughts private thoughts about work here.]

I wish I could blog about work too. Well, not really. That would be bad. But I do love work so much and wish I could share it with the world.

Man, Josh is warm. He's sleeping so well.

Strong, strike that, Mighty King Jesus, please help August sleep like his dad.

Frack Laura, go to sleep.

And then I proceded to sleep until 5:45! Win! We're only on night two of the Woombie, but we already LOVE it. August was so much happier today after a good night's sleep. He went from 7pm-5:45, and then went back to sleep until 8 when I had to wake him up to leave the house. Man, it was amazing.

Also, I miss you bloggy friends. Life is full and rewarding right now, but I do miss you. I don't necessarily miss the blogging world in whole, but I do miss connecting with the people on the other end of the internet.

Here's the latest of the boy.

How Having a Baby Changed Me

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Wed, 05 Dec 2012 06:09:00 +0000

Us on Thanksgiving, right before we walked downstairs.

I wrote a couple of months ago about how having a baby didn't change me.

But on Thanksgiving night, I found one way that it did. And I've been thinking about it ever since.

Josh, August, and I spent Thanksgiving with dear friends and their family. It was a proper Friendsgiving with three generations present, way too much food, and the familiarity of faces we have known in many different contexts. It was lovely.

Josh, August, and I left their apartment in the dark of evening. We walked down the stairs and stepped into the brisk night air. I carried August, wrapped in a blanket. Josh carried our bags.

We walked down a small path from their apartment building to where we were parked. On this path, we passed a homeless man, lying under a blanket. He looked as if he was trying to sleep.

As a former New Yorker, I have been conditioned to more or less ignore the homeless. It might sound cold, but that is the reality of living in NYC for most people. If your heart goes out to every homeless person, you begin to unravel. They are simply too numerous. Perhaps you offer a Starbucks card or a granola bar, but you stay protected from the sadness of it. You shuffle on.

But on Thanksgiving, I walked past this man and could not ignore him. I could not. And I found that my heart was completely vulnerable to feeling the brokenness. It hit me like a cold wind.

As I clutched August, the thought that haunted me and would not let me drive off was, "He was somebody's baby, too."

He was somebody's baby.

And if my baby grew up and was in that situation, I would want everyone to stop and offer help. And if they couldn't help, I would at least want them to open themselves, to be vulnerable, rather than driving off into the night in their nice warm cars.

So, as it turns out, having a baby did change me.

I wish I could tell you a nice story of how we were able to offer a lot of help. We weren't. I've been thinking about and praying for that man; his name was Jeff.

Pray for him with me?

This all has me thinking a lot about how God sets us in families, and about how God himself was born into a family. We're all meant to have a place, to have people to whom we belong. And we're all meant to be cared for with love and attention.

And oh, to be Mary on Good Friday. The heartbreak.

I don't know where to go with all of this, but as you might be able to tell, my son has ripped my heart open in a new way.

Is that what children do? Just rip your heart open and leave you breathless?

August's Baptism

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Mon, 12 Nov 2012 04:49:00 +0000

Before you watch this video, you should know that the camera battery died prematurely. Hence the cliffhanger ending. But here's the text of what I read at August's baptism today:

Today we baptize our son August Jack Ziesel. We don't believe this act creates any sort of guarantee that August will be a follower of Christ, but we baptize him in order to recognize the fact that August belongs to God and was His son before he was ours. As August is in a helpless state right now, unable to provide for himself, we believe that we would be equally helpless had God not come to our rescue in the person of Jesus. Because of Jesus' life and death, we believe that God looks at our son even now, before he has accomplished anything in this life, and is able to say as He said to Jesus, "You are My Beloved Son, in Whom I am well pleased." May we parent after the model of our heavenly Father who is abundantly patient, joyful, and wise.

Yeah, I may have cried.

It was an extremely meaningful day as we were surrounded by our church family, my father (all of August's grandparents live on the East Coast), family friends (who are actually my sister's godparents), and dear friends from the community in which Josh and I met at NYU. For a couple who just moved to California two and a half years ago, such a gathering is rare.

For the first time, I just put my baby down for bed in a crib instead of in his bassinet. It might be making me slightly sentimental. Despite the tiredness and busyness, it is such a joy to be August's mother and to parent alongside my wonderful husband. Before I know it, he'll be taking the SAT, so I want to cherish these days.

For The Rachel Held Evans In Your Pew

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 04:05:00 +0000

Yesterday, Rachel Held Evans' new book, A Year of Biblical Womanhood, was released. As I write this, it is ranked as the 15th most popular book in the Christian Living category on Amazon. Her blog, rachelheldevans.com, is usually ranked within the top 20 Christian blogs in America.

I like Rachel a lot. We've chosen different disciplines--she is definitely a writer and I am more in the scholarship camp--yet we often see things quite similarly.

Lately, there have been a few popular negative reviews of her book. That's to be expected. But what I didn't expect was that the people sharing those negative reviews on my social media networks would mostly be clergy. Almost all of them have a strong voice in their communities of faith, and most of them I respect a great deal.

Not a few of them have implied that her voice is not welcome in their churches, or in the Church. They have questioned her credentials.

As someone in seminary, learning the art of Bible scholarship, I get where many of them are coming from. She raises a lot of questions that we feel have already been answered. She uses the words "pick and choose" when we use the words "Wesleyan Quadrilateral." She is a mere writer; we are the ones who examine Scripture.

I just read a story in Numbers 11 that reminded me an awful lot of this situation. In short, two men, Eldad and Medad, start prophesying even though they had not been "authorized" to prophesy. Moses was Israel's prophet and Joshua was his mentee. A young lad runs to Moses and Joshua to tattle on these two unauthorized prophets. Joshua says, "Yeah, Moses, tell Eldad and Medad to stop!" But instead of reserving prophecy for himself, an understandable move in my opinion, Moses says, "Are you jealous on my account? As far as I'm concerned, I would like everyone to be a prophet! Let God bring that to pass!"

Okay, so I'm not saying Rachel is a prophet in the line of Moses. But perhaps she's a prophet in the line of Eldad and Medad. It's not a perfect parallel, but you get the idea.

However, dear clergy of America, even if you don't think Rachel has a prophetic voice, there is one thing that gives her credentials in my book:

She writes what many of your parishioners have been thinking--silently, quietly, or even shamefully thinking.

There's a reason her blog and books are so popular; she is giving a voice to the millions of Christians in America who don't easily relate to you. When you stand at the pulpit and preach a sermon of conviction, they leave wondering how someone could ever be so sure of something. When you have come to terms with the Bible's tensions, they have not.

And she is their voice.

If you can't respectfully hear the words of Rachel Held Evans, my guess is that you can't respectfully hear the questioning voices in your own congregation.

Yes, she plays with the sacred Scriptures in a way that makes us uncomfortable. But let's suck it up and get uncomfortable for the sake of the millions of young people who are unsure about following Jesus. They didn't go to seminary with us. They don't know how we arrived at our conclusions. Start back over at the beginning and walk alongside them. You will be a better fisher of men for doing so.

Besides, I'm not so sure God is against playing with Scripture. He does it quite a lot Himself. As does our beloved Scripture-teacher, the Apostle Paul.

You might not like what she writes, but please realize that she's not trying to be a Bible teacher. She's trying to be a Bible student. And isn't that exactly what we ask all Christians to be?

The Unique Authority of a Sufferer

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Sat, 27 Oct 2012 15:38:00 +0000

I am reading a fabulous book for class called Getting Involved With God by Ellen F. Davis. Today I stumbled across some words in her chapter on the Book of Job that I think will resonate with many of you:

Job gives us immeasurably more than a theology of suffering. It gives us the theology of a sufferer. In it we hear authoritative speech about God that comes from lips taut with anguish. From this book above all others in scripture we learn that the person in pain is a theologian of unique authority. The sufferer who keeps looking for God has, in the end, privileged knowledge. The one who complains to God, pleads with God, rails at God, does not let God off the hook for a minute--she is at last admitted to a mystery. She passes through a door that only pain will open, and is thus qualified to speak of God in a way that others, whom we generally call more fortunate, cannot speak.

I haven't been in deep pain recently, but I know many of you have been. May we all keep looking for God, even when we feel like all we can see clearly is our pain.

How Having a Baby Didn't Change Me

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Fri, 26 Oct 2012 01:48:00 +0000

August is eight weeks old today. He sleeps now, fist to mouth, in the sling on my chest. Contrary to popular belief, my mothering began much longer than eight weeks ago. But eight weeks ago, something monumental did happen, and it was a milestone in my life.

Since then, life has changed. I now type and eat one-handed. I sleep easily and deeply, something that was elusive to me before. I have a bit of a looser tummy, though I honestly view it with pride. I smell like milk constantly. And there's a little man who knows my voice, my face, and my smell and finds comfort in all of those things.

But contrary to what I expected, I don't feel like I've changed.

I mean, of course I've changed on some levels. But fundamentally, I am the same.

"Everything's about to change," they said.

I worried about this a little bit. Would I suddenly become a different woman with different priorities once I had given birth?

On top of being a graduate student, I accepted a job offer when I was six months pregnant. I was excited about what seemed to be a position that was a great fit for my skills and experience. But a little part of me worried that I would lose interest in non-mom things once I heard his little cries and kissed his little feet. I worried that my schoolwork would be uninteresting and my work would be drudgery.

But I worried for no reason. No magical spell overtook me at the moment of his birth.

I am still Laura. For the most part, I have the same loves, the same sins, the same desires, and the same fears.

Of course, I realize that I am an evolving creature. I've changed dramatically over the past 2, 5, and 10 years, and I will continue to change.

But August does not define me.

He has not changed everything.

My life does not revolve around him.

(Why do I feel like this makes me sound cold and heartless? I promise that I love him a lot and am so excited about being his mama. Really!)

My Dreams as a Mama

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Wed, 19 Sep 2012 02:57:00 +0000

I've been in baby world for the past weeks, soaking up my son. I've also been soaking up sleep and showers and any type of food I can get my hands on. All in all, these weeks have been great. (There were a few days when we had no home due to a power outage, and those days were less than great, but I really don't want to dwell on them because I'll get mad all over again.)

But my son? Oh my, he's the best. I don't think you'll believe me until you spend a day with him, but he has my husband's easy-going nature, and we're both so grateful for that. He sleeps well, he eats well, he cries only when appropriate. I'm not sure how long these traits will last, but for now, I am grateful for them.

As we think about parenting him, Josh and I are pretty open minded. We don't have very many specific dreams for his career, his interests, or his personality. But I do have some broad dreams for him.

Today, I've been thinking a lot about how I want him to be a man of vision, to see beyond what most people see. I want him to serve our King, the true King, but I don't want him to just do it out of duty; I want August to be driven by something bigger and better.

This is the song that's been stuck in my head all day:

I've occasionally been playing music while August nurses. Often I play (via iTunes) hymns. Today, Gungor came on and it was perfect.

I want August to value life on earth just as Jesus did. I want him to eat good food, dance with abandon, travel the world, and fall in love. But, I want him to know that this is only the beginning, that food and dance and travel and beautiful women are only foretastes of what he was truly made for.

How can I raise a son with vision for things he won't be able to see with his eyes? I don't know. Help us as we figure it out?

And for now, prayers for everything that accompany the first months of parenthood are appreciated.

August's Birth Story, Told Twice

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Tue, 11 Sep 2012 22:24:00 +0000

Josh and I have decided that August's birth story probably needs to be remembered from both of our perspectives, so he has written his version and I have written mine. Enjoy.

Our first family photo, the day after August's birth, 8/31/12.

From Laura

Since Thursday, 8/23, I had been having more frequent Braxton Hicks, especially in the evening or following any of a variety of induction attempts. I could bring on these BH contractions fairly easily, but once I fell asleep each night, they disappeared by morning. I was encouraged, however, that my body seemed to be preparing.

Tuesday, 8/28 (EDD): I got a call from the OB's office that they needed to move my "Past EDD" appointment from Friday 8/31 to Wednesday 8/29 because of a conflict in the doc's schedule. I agreed heartily because Josh was going to be at work on Friday and was sad to be missing the appointment, especially because it included an ultrasound to do some screenings.

Wednesday, 8/29: A Twist in the Road

10:30am Ultrasound and exam at the doc.

The ultrasound tech inquired as to if there were plans to induce me, and I said no, and she got pretty quiet after that. That's when I started to suspect that the appointment might not be as uneventful as we had thought it would be. Once we saw the doc, he did not like a very prominent arrhythmia he was seeing on the fetal heart monitor. (I had heard this arrhythmia at previous appointments, but the doc had not been at the room at the time, so it was his first time hearing it.) The u/s also indicated that August was close to 9 lbs, so he didn't feel that letting me go further in the pregnancy would be very wise.

He said, "So we should get this baby out soon" and left the room for a few minutes to give me additional time to sit with the monitors on. I thought he meant, "Well, this means going to 42 weeks would be unwise. We'll schedule an induction for next week if things haven't progressed." Instead, he came back in the room and said, "So why don't you head on over to Foothill [the hospital] and I'll let them know you're coming?"

My eyes about popped out of my head. Josh and I looked at each other.

He continued, "We'll do some more extended monitoring of the baby, and then we'll probably schedule a two-part induction after that. Since your cervix isn't fully effaced, I'll give you some Cervidil, and then some Pitocin after that."

"Um," I stammered, "This can't wait 'til next week? We have to go today?"

He said something about feeling very uncomfortable leaving the baby unmonitored over the long weekend with such a prominent arrhythmia, especially considering it would only grow larger while we waited.

I was still in shock and he could tell, so he continued to explain that we could take our time getting to the hospital. He suggested we go out to lunch, go home and pack up our stuff, and then head over in the early afternoon, planning on staying.

11:30am

Josh and I head home and debrief. Things were tense. We didn't know how to process or proceed. We had a lot to get together for taking time off from our various responsibilities, so went sent emails and laid plans for not being available for the next week. We emailed family to update them. We packed our bags, did the dishes, and took out the trash. In the midst of doing all of these things, we tried discussing the situation, but it was hard. We decided we'd proceed to the hospital and talk things out as they developed.

1pm

We went out to lunch at our local Thai place. We were able to talk a bit more over food. We decided that while we're uncomfortable with induction, especially with its increased risk of c-section, we did trust our doc. He had always been SUPER laid back, never expressing any concern when he could have been a bit of an alarmist about little things here and there. Even during our SUA "scare," he was super laid back and told us that he wasn't concerned. In context, we realized that he probably was sincere in his concern, and that we should trust him.

2pm

We arrive at the hospital and check in for prolonged monitoring and another ultrasound. Our nurses are immediately AWESOME. As in, they wanted to know how we felt about everything, how they could be advocates for us, etc. As soon as we dropped the Bradley Birthing name, they knew what we wanted and that this wasn't it. They only showed the utmost respect for our wishes, helping us to feel empowered to bargain with the doctor for some compromises.

4pm

After the extended monitoring and bargaining with the doc, we leave the hospital to grab some more things at home and have dinner. We agree that we'll be back by 6pm, at which time we'll check in and begin the induction. The planned timeline for the induction was this:

6:30pm Receive the Cervidil
Sleep through the night as my cervix ripened
3:30am Cessation of Cervidil
4am Start Pitocin at a very, very low dose
Sometime during the afternoon/evening we'd have a baby.

BUT, things didn't quite work out this way. Here's what did happen:

6:30pm Received the Cervidil. Am about 1.5cm dilated and 75% effaced.

8:30pm Start having regular contractions at about 4 minutes apart. They weren't super strong, but they slowly grew in intensity. It was mildly exciting that my body was laboring on its own without the Pit.

11pm Things ramp up. Contractions are steadily about 3 minutes apart. I start getting the shakes and can no longer do anything during the worst part of a contraction, even talk. We make sure to move a lot to encourage the baby to move down and be in a good position. The L&D ward was small, but we walked, used the ball, tried various positions on the bed, standing, squatting, etc. The nurse mentions that I can take the Cervidil out if things get "unbearable." I respond by saying something like, "Well, I like what the Cervidil is accomplishing, so I doubt I'll want to take it out."

Thursday, 8/30: August's Birthday!

12:30am Contractions are 2 minutes apart. Josh is pretty concerned at this point because I am mentally in and out and still getting the shakes. The nurse notices my quick progression. She mentions a bit more authoritatively that it would be a good idea to take the Cervidil out. I agree quickly.

She also checks me. Guess what? No change. 1.5 cm, 75% effaced.

NOT HAPPY. Um, from everything I read, 2 minute contractions should not be happening at 1.5 cm.

She sees my frustration and tells me that she's seen this before, and often times the cervix will catch up to the uterus in a matter of hours. I think, "Okay, I can keep at this."

12:30-6am This is kind of where things get blurry. Josh's account might be better.

I remember: Super intense contractions 2 minutes apart all morning long, sometimes right on top of one another or multi-peaking. Labor was now in my back most of the time. We walked. We used the labor ball, tennis balls, massage, the shower, heat packs, counter pressure, anything. The most lucid moments for me were the 2 stints in the shower. I would've stayed in longer, but the heat was making me realize how darn tired I was (I did have a chair in there). Immediately after each stint in the shower, I would want to lie down on the bed to go to sleep, but that wasn't possible at all.

I also remember that around 4am, the nurses decided that they'd let me labor on my own without the Pit because I was doing so well. I'll admit, I was pretty proud of my body for not needing it.

Also, sometime before 6am, I'm not sure when, the nurse hooks me back up for extended monitoring. The baby's arrhythmia is quite pronounced, and she begins to talk about Pitocin again to speed things up.

6am She checks me again because of how rapidly things are progressing. I have the shakes again, and we pretty much all think I'm in transition based on the super low pressure I'm feeling. I think, "I can totally do this."

And then, it basically all came crashing down with a few words: 3.5-4cm.

WHAT?!?!

I don't think I did any cursing at the time, but I wanted to. I wasn't anywhere near transition and I was exhausted. I knew I could push through it for a few more hours, but as soon as I realized that my cervix and my uterus were not in sync, I felt pretty defeated. The nurse said that the Pit was probably going to have to happen. I knew that the Pit would only make my pain ratchet up to new levels, and that my contractions would probably come even more quickly.

This is when the epidural enters my mind. No one mentioned pain meds to me at all, for which I am very grateful. All of the nurses and Josh were amazingly supportive of laboring through the pain without meds. I inquire about the epidural to the nurse. She looks surprised but understanding. I feel a little bit like a failure for even mentioning it. All of the nurses felt like my big natural-birth cheerleaders, and I felt a bit like I was letting them down.

6:30am After Josh tries his best to assess my mental state and my sincerity in wanting the epidural, I insist that I am lucid, thinking clearly, and that I want the epidural. Josh reminds me of all of the reasons I had told him to tell me that I didn't want it. I say something like, "I know, but something's not working and I'm exhausted." We order the epidural just as the first drop of Pit is administered.

7am Epidural time. It doesn't take full effect until 8am, but as it takes the edge off of the pain, I slowly drift off to sleep. I think I'm asleep around 8ish. The Pit dosage is now increased every 30 minutes to speed things up.

9am I'm asleep and vaguely remember the doc rupturing my membranes. He also says that I'm about 6cm at this point. He maybe said something about being at a -2 station. I'm not sure. I see the contractions on my belly and on the monitor; they are fast and furious. I go back to sleep. Glorious, painless sleep.

11am (or somewhere around there) The nurse checks me again, 9.5-10 cm! I was half asleep until she said that, and then I woke up heartily. She says that she needs to start prepping the room for delivery. My hearts skips a beat. I let Josh sleep for a bit longer before I wake him.

11:45am The nurse calls for the doc as I'm ready to push. The doc was in surgery. We all agree that we're fine with waiting until he's done. After all, I'm not in pain and I thought that pushing would be difficult since I had no sensation below the bump. I was fine with August moving down on his own so that I had to push less.

1pm The doc is on his way up. After two little practice pushes with the nurse, she tells me that I'm doing great but need to stop and wait. The baby is crowning. Josh, who we all thought would freak out a little watching me give birth, is the exact opposite. He was so excited and enthusiastic, especially once he saw a full head of hair. I ask for a mirror so that I can see too. I was curious. I see August's little head and then promptly ask for the mirror to be removed. Curiosity = sated. Haha.

Doc arrives.

Three sets of pushes with everyone in the room cheering me on.

1:09pm August is on my chest!

Elated, relieved, overwhelmed.

That's the story. On this side of things, I really have no regrets. My biggest fear with induction was the increased risk of c-section, so I am relieved to have avoided that.

In terms of the arrhythmia that prompted the eviction notice: After his birth, August's EKG was "extremely unusual," so we've been paying some visits to the pediatric cardiologist. As of now, his heart structure looks good, but his EKG is still reading a bit weird. The doc thinks the strange readings will resolve with time, so we go back in a few weeks for more tests. I am strangely not anxious at all. Even if August's heart isn't 100% perfect, I still wouldn't trade him for the world. He doesn't seem to be in any distress, and I guess that's what this mama cares about most right now.

From Josh

On August’s official due date (8/28), Laura got a call that our doctor would be unavailable for our routine OB appointment on that Friday. Laura was able to reschedule the appointment for Wednesday, and we were both really excited about the change because I was going to miss the appointment on Friday but I would be able to accompany her to the appointment on Wednesday. It was especially exciting because the appointment included a sonogram, which we hadn’t had since August’s Single Umbilical Artery scare back at 21.5 weeks.

The next day we arrived at our appointment, which started with the sonogram. The sonogram took a long time, and the technician was obviously measuring a lot of different things without really explaining what she was doing. She casually asked if the doctor was going to be inducing Laura, which seemed a bit strange at the time, and we told her that we didn’t think that was the case. After the sonogram, we were waiting in the reception area to see the doctor, and the sonogram technician walked a piece of paper over to the nurse’s station and was intentionally not making eye contact with us. That was when I started to wonder if something was wrong.

Soon after being taken to the appointment room, our doctor came in with a concerned look on his face. Now you have to understand that our doctor had been incredibly laid-back the entire pregnancy, so seeing him act so concerned was a bit alarming. He told us that the sonogram had detected an arrhythmia in August’s little heart and had also indicated that he had macrosomia (i.e. he was really big, especially his head). Since the doctor knew we wanted a vaginal birth, he told us that Laura needed to be induced. He stepped out for a few minutes, and Laura and I had a few minutes to process this new information. We discussed the possibility of trying to induce naturally over the weekend if the doctor was amenable to the idea, but when he came back in he said that we needed to go home, eat lunch, and get our hospital bag to go to the hospital immediately.

To say that we were shocked is a bit of an understatement. I was supposed to go to my practicum in just a few hours, and we had a new tenant in our building that we were handing the keys to in a few hours as well. All of sudden all of our plans had to change. So we went home, packed our bags, made some calls, and went out for some Thai food before arriving at the hospital around 2pm.

When we got there, the nurses put us in a room for an extended sonogram and additional monitoring. We were able to hear the arrhythmia (which was not fun) and meet the staff that would be taking care of us (which was pretty awesome). The charge nurse that performed the sonogram spent a lot of time talking to us about our expectations and wishes for the birth process, and she informed us right off the bat that she was a patient advocate. In fact, when she called our doctor to let him know the results of our sonogram, she helped us convince the doctor to let us leave the hospital to grab dinner before beginning the induction process.

We went to Petrillo’s for dinner and then checked in to the hospital to begin the induction. Around 6:30, the nurse inserted the Cervidil, which was supposed to “ripen” Laura’s cervix to prepare for the “real” induction at 4am the next day. They told us that Laura would likely get to sleep through the night and that the real work would begin the next day. We actually talked about me possibly coming home to sleep that night so I’d be fully rested for the hard labor the next day.

Haha. Yeah right. I’m SO glad I’d pretty much decided to stay at the hospital (thanks, in part, to a text from a good friend suggesting that I stay). Around 7:30 or 8:00, Laura started experiencing very mild contractions every 4-5 minutes. We were excited that something was happening, and we spent the next couple of hours talking and watching TV. We decided to play a card game around 9:00, but Laura had a hard time concentrating because the contractions were slowly but surely getting more painful.

By 11pm, Laura’s contractions had gotten significantly stronger. They were happening just about every two to three minutes, so she just was not getting a break between contractions. By 12:30am she was shaking violently and the nurse finally removed the Cervidil because it appeared that she was in full-blown, active labor. (Side note: I just looked up the side effects of Cervidil, and it appears that the most common side effect, which occurs in about 1 in 20 women, is “uterine hyperstimulation”, or contractions occurring at a faster rate than normal. Yup, that about sums it up!) Unfortunately, Laura had not dilated at all, which was a bit discouraging.

At this point, we realized that we probably weren’t going to be getting any sleep, and we focused on helping Laura manage her pain. We tried just about everything: walking, massage, counterpressure, shower. These things definitely helped manage the pain, but it was clear that it was only getting worse. Around 4:30am, our nurse performed another exam and put Laura on the fetal heart monitor. By this time Laura had only dilated to 4cm and August’s arrhythmia was very prominent and concerning to hear. The nurse said she really needed to start the Pitocin since August’s heart sounded so alarming, but after half an hour the nurse stated that she was going to let us try to progress naturally. We were really excited about this at the time, but by the 6:15am exam Laura was still at 4cm.

When we heard that Laura had just gone through almost two hours of the most painful contractions yet and had not progressed at all, I could see the light go out of Laura’s eyes. I remember trying to console her as she told me that she didn’t think she could do it anymore and wanted the Pitocin and epidural. This was the hypothetical moment I was most nervous about when thinking about the labor, and now it was happening. I was in the position of having to decide if Laura really wanted the Pitocin/epidural or if she was just exhausted and just saying that because she was tired and would wind up regretting the decision. So I had to play the uncomfortable role of really challenging her decision. Even though I knew I wanted her to just have the epidural because it SUCKED seeing her in so much pain, I just wasn’t confident that she was thinking clearly. So we went back and forth for about 10 minutes, and I tried to do everything I could to convince her not to take the epidural (which sounded so stupid coming out of my mouth, but whatever… I did what I had to do). I remember finally accepting the decision when she just looked at me calmly, with tears in her eyes, saying that she couldn’t go on like this, that she wasn’t even halfway to 10cm and couldn’t imagine experiencing hours more of these intense contractions. Yes, she wanted to go medication free, but that just wasn’t going to be possible at this point. (Another side note: I truly think this decision would have been a LOT easier to make if we had known about the side effects of Cervidil. I guess that’s the one way that the hospital dropped the ball in this process. I thought the whole time that these contractions were just a natural by-product of the drug, but I didn’t realize that the drug was making the contractions worse/more frequent.)

So we called in the nurse and said that we wanted the Pitocin and the epidural. It took a while to get the doctor called in, but after about 45 minutes Laura had the epidural and we were both finally able to sleep. I slept from about 8:15-11:00, and when I woke up Laura was fully dilated and we were ready to push. The only problem was that our doctor was in surgery, so we had to wait about an hour for the doctor to finally arrive so that Laura could begin pushing. In that time I was able to see August’s hair, which for some reason made the whole process become real in that moment. I was really afraid of the whole pushing process before that moment, but immediately I became extremely excited about August’s imminent arrival. It really was a blur after that; the doctor arrived and Laura pushed and before I knew it August was born! I even wound up cutting the umbilical cord, which I had not planned on.

Although August’s birth did not go quite as planned, I know that it happened the way it was meant to. We have a beautiful young boy, and I can’t wait to see him grow up!

Our heartbreaker. Yesterday, 9/10/12.

The Story Behind August's Name

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Mon, 03 Sep 2012 00:18:00 +0000

So we've been getting lots of inquires about August Jack's name. So, I want to write a quick explanation.

August

To begin, no, August is not named after the month of his birth. In fact, Josh was kind of hoping August wouldn't be born until September to avoid this assumption. I did not find Josh's wish for a delayed birth amusing, so I was not on board with that plan. The real reasons we named him August include:

-August is a big family name in Josh's dad's family tree. I mean, they're Ziesels after all. Josh's paternal grandfather was named William August, and as you travel back in time, you'll find many an August, Augusta, or Augustus. I never considered the name August for a child until I started working on Josh's family tree about two years ago.

-We wanted a name that was unique (not in the top 10 names for boys right now), yet also something that everyone would know how to spell and pronounce. Turns out that it's rather hard to find a name that achieves both (that we like), but August fit the bill.

-We wanted a name that had some degree of international recognition. We're pretty happy that August is recognizable for historical reasons, and that it has a few derivations, such as Agosto in Spanish-speaking countries.

-August wasn't my favorite name, nor Josh's, but it was high on both of our lists. Josh didn't really like my favorite name, and I didn't really like his, but we both liked August a lot. In fact, it was our top middle name contender for multiple first name options for most of the pregnancy. A wise friend actually convinced us that it made a stellar first name, so we stopped viewing it as a middle name and, voila, all of a sudden things fell into place.

Jack

-Josh's maternal grandfather was named Jack, and was a super amazing man. We wanted to honor him, but we didn't want to use Jack as a first name once we looked up how popular it is at the moment.

-My dad's name is John, and even though he's never been called Jack (as far as I know), I like that the names are connected. While it's not a direct tribute to him, I consider it an itty-bitty shout out.

-August is a little off the beaten path in terms of names, as is Ziesel, so we decided that an easy middle name was the way to go.

So there you have it. Birth story coming soon, hopefully.

He's here!

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Thu, 30 Aug 2012 21:37:00 +0000

August Jack Ziesel

Born 8/30 at 1:09pm

21in and 8lbs 8oz

Mom and Baby are doing well! More details to come.

For Fun: Guess Baby Boy's Stats

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Sat, 25 Aug 2012 16:33:00 +0000

At 38.5 weeks on 8/17/12

I'm still pregnant. No big surprise there, as I haven't hit my due date (8/28) yet. My doctor sees no reason to induce, for which I am grateful, so we're playing the waiting game.

In the meantime, I thought it might be somewhat fun to play a guessing game. I'd love people to take guesses on birthday, weight, and height, if only to keep me entertained today. Here's what you probably need to know to make an informed decision:

At 21.5 weeks, Baby Boy was measuring at 75% in the weight category. He has not been measured since then.

My due dates range from 8/24-9/1, depending on how they are measured. The earliest ultrasound gave us the 8/28 due date that my doctor and I are going by.

I was 8 lbs 2 oz, 21 inches at birth, but was also the third baby born to my mother. Her first baby was in the high 7 pound range, maybe 7 lb 14 oz or something like that. Now I'm 5'8" and usually around 150 lbs.

Believe it or not, my husband's birth certificate doesn't have his weight information on it, but we've been told that he was over 10 lbs at birth (as were his brother and sister). And he was the first born to his mother. I wish I had his exact height and weight for you, but I don't. Now my husband is 6'2" and usually around 200 lbs.

My mother says that her first baby was three weeks late, and her second and third babies were also late. Boy, I was excited when I heard that news! :-)

My bump is measuring right on track, and my weight gain has been about 25 pounds.

I don't feel completely miserable and uncomfortable. The baby has dropped and is preparing for his exit, but that's been the status quo for about two weeks now.

From what I can tell, Baby Boy seems like he'll be a perfectly normal birth weight, but the longer he stays in there, the bigger he's getting. So, my hopes for a normally-sized child are fading by the day.

Alright, I think that about sums it up.

Here's how the game is going to work. For each item that we're guessing (birthday, weight, height), I will give 3 points to the people who nail one of the guesses on the head, so one guess could net you a possible 9 points, and then you would be the winner! I will award 2 points for guesses that are one day, 1-2 oz, or up to 1/2 inch off the mark. I will award 1 point for guess that are two days, 3-4 oz, or up to 1 inch off the mark.

I know this sounds complicated, but I like doing simple math for fun, so I'll enjoy figuring out the winner.

The winner will receive a yet-to-be-determined awesome prize.

Because I'm wanting to increase the number of guesses, you can leave a guess as a comment here or as a comment on my Facebook thread with this link (but not both). I know that some people dislike leaving actual blog comments, so I'll concede to the power of Facebook this time.

Ready, set, go!

What is Holiness?

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Mon, 20 Aug 2012 03:40:00 +0000

For close to a year now, my concept of holiness has been in flux. I have, for some time, ascribed to something similar to this from Tim Keller and the false binary of love and holiness:

It is absolutely the case that God’s holiness precludes our sin from entering His presence, but it’s not because He’s “intolerant” in any sense that contrasts diametrically with His love. It’s because He’s an all-consuming fire (Hebrews 12:29). It’s because sin cannot tolerate the presence of God.

This is a very common Evangelical teaching: God cannot tolerate the presence of sin. We are often taught that God's holiness can be equated to His separateness from sinful things. It's a basic component to the Gospel presentation that many people use: God must eradicate all sin from his presence.

But two big things have me rethinking my concept of God's holiness. The first is the incarnation, which if you believe Jesus to be fully divine, presents a problem because He was certainly in contact with sin. The second is Hosea 11:9, which reads:

I will not execute My fierce anger;

I will not destroy Ephraim again.

For I am God and not man, the Holy One in your midst,

And I will not come in wrath.

This verse in Hosea comes on the heels of God calling out Israel's sin; they certainly are not God's good little children at this juncture in the story. While they are still in a state of sin, God is in their midst. (Moreover, this verse challenges the concept that God's wrath requires him to be a God of wrath. In fact, God's holiness seems to be the reason that He isn't coming in wrath. Interesting.)

So, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Is there a Scriptural basis for claiming that God cannot be in the presence of sin, or even that God's presence eradicates all sin in its midst? And if God's holiness does not "preclude our sin from entering his presence," then what is holiness?

I do have some thoughts that begin to answer my own questions, but they are not yet completely satisfactory to me, so I'd love to hear from you.

Sex: Where Feminists and Complementarians Agree?

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Tue, 24 Jul 2012 07:01:00 +0000

[Trigger warning: rape, sexual abuse; General Warning: graphic sexual language]

So there was this little hullabaloo last week about whether or not sex is inherently hierarchical. Rachel Held Evans wrote about it here. Her.meneutics covered the issue here. Jared Wilson responded here. All in all, it was a big deal in the Christian blogging world (which, admittedly, is its own subculture within a subculture).

To summarize, the debate revolved around this quote from Douglas Wilson (who has been so ungracious in his response that I'm not even going to link to him):

However we try, the sexual act cannot be made into an egalitarian pleasuring party. A man penetrates, conquers, colonizes, plants. A woman receives, surrenders, accepts.

My husband and I observed the debate over these words from a distance. Honestly, it was a lot less stressful that way. :-)

But as time passed, the words in question began to sound vaguely familiar to me. And then I remembered...

Nearly 10 years ago, during my freshman year at NYU, I sat on my bed in my shoebox-shaped dorm room, and I read something very similar for my Intro to Gender and Sexuality Studies class.

Now, for those who aren't familiar, the NYU Gender and Sexuality Studies department is about as likely to agree with hierarchical Christian men as, well, I don't know... Mark Driscoll is to agree with Rob Bell? John Piper is to agree with Joel Osteen? No, no, seriously, um... I can't even think of a comparison. Let's just say that we're talking about two groups of people who do NOT see eye to eye.

So today I finally decided to find the original words that I remembered. And find them I did!

From The Second Sex by Simone De Beauvoir (383-385):

However deferential and polite the man may be, the first penetration is always a violation.... In coition man uses only an external organ, while woman is struck deep within her vitals.... She is overpowered, forced to compliance, conquered.

Now, I'm not going to pretend to be a De Beauvoir expert, but the shared perspective of intercourse as conquest is too haunting for me to ignore. Honestly, it leaves me with more questions than it does answers. But here are some initial thoughts:

1) I am ready for people to start seeing sex as more than intercourse alone. I don't want to get too nitty gritty, but I believe that sex happens more often than intercourse. Sure, intercourse is one type of sex, but it's not every type. And until we start seeing those other acts of sex as sex as well, I'm going to have a hard time being on the same page as you. Goodness, when you go to donate blood and they ask if you've had unprotected sex, they're asking about all of it, not just intercourse. Let's all get on board with a broader definition. If we start to see sex as the full experience it is, I think it's hard to say that it's inherently hierarchical.

Here's a small test to give yourself to start thinking about the term differently: If the man orgasms, do you think sex has occurred? What if the man does not orgasm but the woman does? What if no one orgasms?

2) I think both De Beauvoir and Wilson are right about intercourse in some key ways, but they are reflecting only the Fallen nature of intercourse. (One aspect of this Fallenness is the restrictive view that sex equals intercourse.) As a Christian, I would expect Wilson to teach a redeemed view of sex and sexuality, but instead, he seems to embrace Fallen sex as if that's how God intended it to be. Honestly, this just makes me sad. Christian men and women, let's not be the ones perpetuating the muck of the world, okay?

Now, like I said, I don't have much else to offer. Those are my two main thoughts after making the connection between Wilson and De Beauvoir, and I still have a lot of processing to do. This processing probably won't happen quickly, but I do welcome your feedback on the matter. I'd especially love to hear your thoughts if you have studied De Beauvoir in depth. I certainly have not.

So, your thoughts on this intersection of these two usually-disparate worlds?

To the Eager Christian College Freshman

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Sat, 21 Jul 2012 02:22:00 +0000

In the Summer of 2008, I learned that a great Christian guy was transferring from the college in my home town to Cornell. He was eager, passionate to impact people for Christ, highly intelligent, and from a small town. I wrote him the below message at his request, and I think most of this advice holds water for Christian men and women who are about to begin the nonChristian college experience.

As my new job has me thinking about today's college students a lot, I reread this today. May we pray for those preparing to leave home for college, being well aware that what they face is life-changing and world-impacting. If you have any additional advice to offer the incoming, eager college freshmen, please add it!
________________

Okay, I've been thinking for awhile about what to write, and here are my recurring thoughts on what I wish I'd known going into NYU:

I knew no one when I got to NYU. Neither did Josh [my husband]. So, when your family leaves and the only person you know is your roommate, don't worry. Relationships develop. You are not alone.

Don't hang out exclusively with your roommate. Too many people do this and then when they inevitably get sick of each other, their main social outlet is gone. Do things together, but not everything.

If you truly want to impact people at Cornell for Christ, you will have to love them well before they listen to anything you say. Loving people is hard, especially when you don't agree with their behaviors or beliefs. But, as the Navigators say, "More is caught than taught." So, be compassionate, caring, and a good listener. Don't judge people too quickly. Some of my best friends wouldn't be if I hadn't given them a chance. Before you try to have an impact, let others impact you. Be fair about it, or they won't listen to anything you say.

In college, as I'm sure you've observed, people tend to mark themselves according to political ideology, religious belief, or other things. This marking of belief too early in your new chapter at Cornell will alienate you from people who would otherwise be your friend. You can state your case without being harsh toward the other positions. Preface things with: "I may be wrong" or "I may misunderstand" as often as possible. It diffuses many situations when opinions prevent loving people well. Try to play devil's advocate in your mind to try to see everyone else's point of view. You might very easily have the same POV if you had been raised in their shoes.

Remember, Jesus did not usually deepen the boundaries between groups of people; He mostly broke them down.

So, all that to say, make non-Christian friends and love them in practical ways. Don't impose your beliefs on them unless they ask you to. And if you become their true friend, eventually they will. And by that time, they will probably listen to what you say.

The last point (I think) is to go into class with a learning attitude. Your professors ARE smarter than you. Don't be that guy in lecture who always argues with the professor. Or don't be that guy who makes the same objection every week just in different language for different cases. If you sincerely want to challenge a professor, do it in his/her office hours first. If they then welcome you to make objections in class, then feel free to bring objections into lecture. But, otherwise, you will make yourself an enemy instead of a friend. Professors needs Jesus, too. Show them you're not just out to prove your points, but that you are there to learn. (Do the same out of class in social groups, too.)

So, basically, I guess what I'm saying is be a learner and be loving.

One last thing. I'm not sure if this will make sense now, but I'm throwing it in for good measure. At some point at Cornell, you will probably experience some brokenness. You will hit a low point. We don't know anyone who hasn't experienced a breaking point in college. Don't fight your brokenness. Embrace it and use it for God's glory. Don't hide it from your friends, Christian or non-Christian.

Usually this brokenness will happen in the academic area of life, the social area (relationships), or the sexual area. God allows us to go through these very rough patches for many reasons. Just cling to Him and be honest with yourself and your friends about the pain you'll probably be in.

God does want to use you to impact Cornell, but God also wants to use Cornell to impact you. You should be changing and growing in many ways. I'm not sure how this will look, but if you're not changing, something is wrong.

And, that daily quiet time: do it. Your non-Christian friends might think it's weird, but they'll probably respect you for it deep down.

Let me know if you have any questions/comments/etc. Josh is also here as a resource.

Praying for you.
Laura

The Redemptive Pursuit: Seated On A Throne

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Mon, 09 Jul 2012 20:27:00 +0000

Seated On A Throne
By Laura Ziesel
July 9, 2012

Scripture:

"In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple." Isaiah 6:1

Reflection:

At eight months pregnant, the baby boy inside me continues to change positions quite frequently. Every time he moves, I try to figure out where his head, butt, and feet are. My husband asked the other day why I care so much about figuring out his position, and when I thought about it, my answer surprised even myself: Being able to picture him helps me love him and bond with him. It might sound odd, but it's true. It's hard for me to have a mental image of him, but when I am able to conjure one up, he is no longer a shapeless blob causing me discomfort, he is my son with little toes and eyebrows.

I think something similar happens in our relationship with God. None of us have seen God face to face, nor have we even seen a photo of him. When we pray, worship, or talk about him, many of us struggle because we don't have a great mental image of him. Even the depictions we have of Jesus, the embodiment of God, are mere guesses that usually look more like the culture out of which the image emerged than a Jewish man from the first century.

I've even heard some people say that it's heretical to have mental images of God. But when I look at Scripture, I don't see support for this claim. God reveals himself through images from time to time in Scripture, either showing us or telling us what he is like. Usually these images are more metaphorical than scientific, but they are there nonetheless. While we know that God is not simply a burning bush, he did choose to give Moses and us that image of himself. Likewise, he has revealed himself other times throughout Scripture.

One of my favorite images to rely on during prayer or worship originates in Isaiah 6:1. When I am having a hard time feeling as if God is actually there and listening to me, I imagine myself in a large temple, and the rest of the temple is filled with just the train of God's robe. When I picture this, I feel small before God's bigness, and that does wonders for my ability to worship him and ask him for big things in prayer.

I would encourage us all to cultivate a storehouse of images of God that we can turn to when we are having a hard time connecting with him. Some of my other favorites include: God as the pillar of fire, God wrestling with Jacob, the person of Jesus sharing food with me at a table, Jesus on the cross, and God as the good shepherd. There are many more in the pages of Scripture. While we shouldn't overly rely on a single image (God is transcendent enough to be both a lion and a lamb), they are useful as we seek to deepen our understanding and love of him. So during your next prayer or worship time, let your mind wander, exploring the images you have of God.

Prayer:

Heavenly Father, we are unable to fully comprehend your glory, and we want so desperately to know what you are like. While I know that you are bigger than I can now comprehend, thank you for revealing yourself to us throughout history. I ask that you would help my understanding of you to grow as I use the images you have given us in Scripture, and I ask that a deeper understanding of you would lead to deeper repentance, love, commitment, and service. Amen.

________________________

I will be posting my devotionals from The Redemptive Pursuit once a month as they are published. Sign up to receive these weekly devotionals via email here. Follow The Redemptive Pursuit on Twitter or like us on Facebook.

Losing that Lovin' Feeling

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Tue, 03 Jul 2012 04:31:00 +0000

Unfortunately, the world sees a lot of deadbeat dads--men who abuse, abandon, or neglect their children. While this is usually viewed as a character flaw on the part of the man, the judgment we cast toward deadbeat dads is nothing compared to the judgment we cast toward deadbeat moms. I've heard people say, "There is something deeply wrong about a woman who could abandon or abuse her children." And it's not just the content of judgmental words toward deadbeat moms that is harsh, but the vitriolic tones I have heard give me goosebumps. It's as if we reserve a special place in hell for these women.*

The unequal expectations leveled at fathers and mothers has often perturbed me. I think a lot of why we so harshly criticize deadbeat moms is that we believe that women are all created to be inherently nurturing, to protect their young, to do anything to make a better life for their kids. Some of us believe this based on faith, some based on science. Either way, we seem fairly united in it.

And while I believe that all people should live self-sacrificially on behalf of others, especially their children, I'm also able to acknowledge that we are all fallen, even mothers. We're sinners. We're selfish. We are, without the grace of God at work in the world, slow to put others before ourselves. So I've never understood this harsh judgment of deadbeat moms from Christians, theologically speaking. If Christians can't admit that people are broken and accept it as a starting point, something is awry.

The past six months of pregnancy have made me think about this issue in a new way.** I have not had an easy pregnancy. It certainly has not been the worst, but I've seen plenty of bed, couch, and bathroom floor. Even today, while I've felt fairly good, this babe in my womb has made me quite uncomfortable. And while I have tried to be grateful for these pregnancy symptoms, especially in light of the frailty of life, I completely understand how a woman in different circumstances could grow not in love toward her baby, but in resentment, even before it is born.

I see how easy it would be to blame my son for all of these discomforts, and how easy it would be to grow bitter toward him. Once he emerges from the womb, I can imagine how easy it would be to blame him for the pain and vulnerability I had suffered during birth. And then he begins crying, and sucking viciously on a tender part of my body, and then demanding attention and time and money. Yep, I can see how loving him could be hard.

Don't get me wrong. I love my son dearly. Lately it's his little feet pushing the edges of my belly that have been making my heart go aflutter. Oh, I can't wait to kiss those feet! But I now understand that instead of love, resentment could be growing in my heart if I let it. Maybe admitting this makes me sound callous; I can see how you might be appalled right now. But my aim in sharing these thoughts is simply to encourage us all to have a bit more compassion toward deadbeat moms. Growing a person isn't easy, and I imagine it only gets harder from here.

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*I realize that women who have given up their children for adoption could think they are in this category. But as far as I'm concerned, they are far from it. I can't speak for everyone on the planet, obviously, but I don't think the deadbeat mom label ever applies to birth mothers. They are heroes in my book, and I will always advocate for their honor among society, never for their judgment.

**And to point out the crazy pregnancy-related calendar math, I found out I was pregnant 6 months and 10 days ago. Tomorrow I'll be 8 months pregnant. And I did not find out late by any means. Yeah, things are whack in the pregnancy calendar world.

Devastation Hits the Home of Evangelicals

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Wed, 27 Jun 2012 19:14:00 +0000

I've been following the Waldo Canyon Fire in Colorado Springs since this past weekend, mostly due to my connection with The Navigators, the Christian organization that I formerly worked for. Between the organization itself and individuals who work for Navs, many buildings that I am connected to are at risk or have burned--homes, camps, offices, and Glen Eyrie (a historic castle that is now The Navigators conference and retreat center).

The Navigators properties are pinned as Eagle Lake, Glen Eyrie, and HQ. See the original file on Facebook with photos of the fire's borders on previous days in the same album.

Not only is my heart broken for the loss and threatened loss of these properties--properties in which I have slept, prayed, and played lots of games with dear friends--but the thought of seeing the beautiful scenery of Colorado Springs charred by these fires for decades to come is almost too difficult to fathom. I cannot imagine Colorado Springs without its beautiful western panorama.

And while my thoughts on the matter are still largely undeveloped, I've been thinking a lot about how Evangelicals might respond differently to natural disasters now that one has hit them at home.

As many Christians know, Colorado Springs is jokingly called the Mecca of Evangelicals because of the numerous Christian organizations headquartered there. Speaking in generalities, Christians have often mishandled responding to natural disasters elsewhere (hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, you name it), instantly jumping to explanations involving the judgment of God.

This has never sat well with me, theologically or psychologically. To claim that God has directly caused every act of nature simply seems to ignore the fallen state of nature within creation. (And there is a big difference between God causing and God allowing tragedy. If you don't think there is, ask yourself if God caused Adam and Eve to sin or if He allowed it. The answer has huge ramifications.) Now that a natural disaster is hitting a city of prayer, service, and mission, I think Christians will have some big questions to ask about how we respond to natural disasters elsewhere, both theologically and practically.

But, these questions are for later, for the months and years following this disaster. I do predict they will emerge, but I don't think they will do so immediately. My friends in the Springs speak only of being numb, shocked, and unable to think beyond one day at a time. Rebuilding will take years; regrowth will take decades.

Can we all join in prayer for Colorado? Can we earnestly ask that God would intervene, bringing rain, calming winds, and preserving properties? He doesn't have to, but we can beg that He will.

A Day of Angst at 30 Weeks

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Tue, 19 Jun 2012 20:51:00 +0000

A little background for those who aren't in the loop via Facebook or Twitter: I finished up my first Summer class on Thursday and have a few weeks off until my next class (an intensive) begins July 9th. I start my job the week after that, on July 17th. So right now, I am in a season of nesting and tackling all of the projects that I did not get to do while I was focused on school. Now that you're all up to date...
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Yesterday was one of those horrible, emotional pregnancy days that gets portrayed in the movies. I don't feel like I have many, at least not since I've been free of my time spent on the bathroom floor. I certainly have my emotional moments--crying for no reason about little things, or crying very easily about important things. But most of the time, I think these are moments rather than characteristic of whole days.

Yesterday, however, was a beast. I think the lack of sleep was catching up with me, and I had a few unpleasant experiences while running errands, and I was just left despondent. The emotions were real and strong, and suddenly I was angsty about everything. After only 4 days off from school, I was already feeling a bit stir-crazy, even with all of the housecleaning and projects I've been tackling. I was crying last night about needing something to do, and Josh said, "But you've been doing so much!" and I replied with a super melodramatic, "But none of this is important!"

In part, yesterday has left me feeling excited about my job. It starts in a few weeks, and I know it will help keep me sane. I do have a need to be contributing to something bigger than my home. I know that contributing to my home benefits the world, but I simply have a need to be direct in my actions, rather than thinking, "Oh, well Josh will be more effective in his work with others when the home is taken care of well" or "I hope my children benefit and grow up to impact the world for God." I know that is enough for some people, but for me, I simply have a need to be directly engaged myself. Of course, I usually have middle school girls taking some of this focus, but our small group is mostly on break for the Summer, and I feel the lack of contribution at the moment.

On the other hand, I do need to realize that washing clothes is important work. Given, it's not the same, and pretending like it is simply does not work for me. But I need to see that while it is different, it is extremely important. Building a home here with Josh is important. Cooking and eating nutritious food is important. Making all of the phone calls necessary to stay on top of our medical coverage at the moment is important. But this kind of work is way less fulfilling to me than the work of engaging hearts and minds. I don't think it's less fulfilling for everyone, but for me, there is simply a big difference.

So, all of that to say, yesterday was a stinky, no-good day. Nothing made it better; I just had to go to sleep and let it end. Today, I'm feeling much better, and eager once-again to tackle the closets, dust-bunnies, and paperwork. I'm trying to embrace this season of "rest" and be grateful for it, and make the most of it, especially in terms of connecting with Josh. But I'd be lying if I said I'm not looking forward to my class in July and the start of work after that.

The Redemptive Pursuit: Still I Declare

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Mon, 18 Jun 2012 16:42:00 +0000

Still I Declare
By Laura Ziesel
June 18, 2012

Scripture:

"O God, you have taught me from my youth, and still I declare your marvelous deeds." -Psalm 71:17

Reflection:

I grew up in great churches and with great parents, but my faith was not wholly my own until I went to college. During my college years, I felt like I was growing in my relationship with God by leaps and bounds. I was constantly surrounded by challenging books, opportunities for service and prayer, and musicians and artists who led me deeply into worship. Those years almost feel magical when I look back upon them.

Not everyone experiences this type of super-charged spiritual growth in college, but I have found that most adult Christians have experienced it at one point or another in their life: after joining a new church, after enlisting in the military, or upon becoming a parent. These months or years of super-charged growth shape us and train us for the rest of our lives.

However, as great as these periods of amazing growth are, they are rarely sustainable. Now that I am five years out from my college graduation, my day-to-day spiritual growth is not as impressive or exciting as it was during my college years. I continue to grow in my faith, but my growth is slower and markedly less magical.

But I don't think this is bad. In fact, I think this is normal and healthy in some ways. If I think about my relationship with the Lord like it is a real relationship, it only makes sense that sustaining it would be less exciting than discovering it. Like falling in love, my years of extreme growth in the Lord are something I will cherish forever; they were a honeymoon phase, so to speak. But by now, God and I have been married for a few years and I'm learning the dance of day-to-day faithfulness to him in the midst of paying bills, scrubbing dishes, and sorting through emails for work. And learning how to love him now is hard if I expect our love to be the same as it was during that honeymoon phase.

I've heard it said that comparison is the thief of joy. I think we often view comparison to be a problem when we are comparing ourselves to others. But comparison can be the thief of joy even when we are comparing ourselves to a former version of ourselves. If I expect every devotional or church service to be life-altering, I'm setting myself up for disappointment. And if I expect every year of my life to result in super-charged spiritual growth, I am rejecting the reality of how relationships work. Relationships change; they go through intense periods of intimacy and periods of monotony.

I don't know if I'll have another phase of super-charged growth like I had in college. I hope so. It would be great to honeymoon with God again. But right now, today, I need to stop comparing my daily walk with God to what it used to be, and I need to accept it for what it is. It is still an undeserved gift, and that should be enough to make me thankful for it.

Prayer:

Lord, I am so thankful to you for reaching out to me and rescuing me from myself. Thank you for giving me more to live for, for giving me hope and purpose. Thank you for each and every day that I've had the privilege of living for you. Help me to be thankful for today, even if it doesn't feel exciting or life-changing. I want to be faithful in the small things, so I ask for your help. Amen.

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Stories of Hope: Isaiah 65

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Fri, 15 Jun 2012 18:36:00 +0000

I've been thinking a lot about That Day recently. It all started when I read Isaiah 65 again for a Spring class. Since then, my heart has been orienting itself toward Heaven, especially the thought of Heaven reaching Earth.

For my Story of Hope this month, I simply want to share Isaiah 65:17-25. I know it's easy to skip or skim Scripture, but I would encourage you to really read these verses and let them sink in. The images we have in them are images that truly give me hope, yet at the same time they make me sorrowful that things aren't now as they should be.

Thy Kingdom Come!

¹⁷“For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth;
And the former things will not be remembered or come to mind.
¹⁸“But be glad and rejoice forever in what I create;
For behold, I create Jerusalem for rejoicing
And her people for gladness.
¹⁹“I will also rejoice in Jerusalem and be glad in My people;
And there will no longer be heard in her
The voice of weeping and the sound of crying.
²⁰“No longer will there be in it an infant who lives but a few days,
Or an old man who does not live out his days;
For the youth will die at the age of one hundred
And the one who does not reach the age of one hundred
Will be thought accursed.
²¹“They will build houses and inhabit them;
They will also plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
²²“They will not build and another inhabit,
They will not plant and another eat;
For as the lifetime of a tree, so will be the days of My people,
And My chosen ones will wear out the work of their hands.
²³“They will not labor in vain,
Or bear children for calamity;
For they are the offspring of those blessed by the Lord,
And their descendants with them.

²⁴It will also come to pass that before they call, I will answer; and while they are still speaking, I will hear. ²⁵The wolf and the lamb will graze together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox; and dust will be the serpent’s food. They will do no evil or harm in all My holy mountain,” says the Lord.

Why I Vowed To Obey

noreply@blogger.com (Laura) — Wed, 06 Jun 2012 16:52:00 +0000

Photo by Ryan Patch Photo

Four years ago I walked down the aisle and said my vows to my husband. This morning, as we got ready for our separate days, I said, "I know it's only been four years, but wow, have we changed!" My husband agreed and we were both silent for a minute contemplating everything we've walked through together since June 6, 2008. Well, maybe that was just me; he was probably mentally prepping for work.

And then I said, "Yeah, remember that whole "obey" bit in my vows?!?" We both chuckled a bit and looked at each other with understanding. He said what we were both thinking, "Well, we were in a different world then." I nodded.

Indeed, we were simply in a different world.

I reflect back upon it now and a bit shocked at how limited our resources were as we prepared for marriage. Don't get me wrong, we had great marriage resources in friends, mentors, and our church. We read marriage books and went to premarital counseling. But EVERY SINGLE RESOURCE we had as we prepared for marriage was complementarian. We were members of a complementarian denomination, had been discipled by a para-church ministry that was mostly complementarian. And as a reader, I thought I was reading a wide variety of marriage books, but it turns out that most of them said the same complementarian things.

I've never been one to simply swallow gender expectations, but I was left with what felt like two options:

1) Have a great complementarian marriage.

2) Buck the teaching we were given and struggle to find our own way.

And so, as we wrote our marriage vows, using old vows from different traditions, we wrote vows that were not identical. Josh vowed to love and honor me, and I vowed to respect and obey him. We mutually agreed upon these words.

Fortunately, our marriage has been happy. I could create a dramatic story here of how our complementarian start pushed us to the brink of disaster, but it didn't. We were fine, I think in large part because Josh is one of the least power-hungry men I know. From what I recall, we weren't living a very complementarian day-to-day life, in fact we may have been practicing egalitarianism by default, but whatever happened, it was mostly a non-issue. I don't remember discussing our gender roles once in our early days of marriage. We just did life together, and we were pretty darn happy about it.

But as time went on, I began to question complementarianism, mostly because of things outside our marriage, things related to work and my calling in life. If anything, the safety and health of our marriage allowed me to ask questions that were seen as dangerous at the time. Slowly, we met older married couples who didn't preach complementarian views to us; they were a breath of fresh air. I read one non-complementarian (but neither egalitarian) marriage book that I was introduced to. And things slowly started to shift.

Now, on our four year anniversary, I think we can safely say that we've left the complementarian waters behind. While I still have a few unresolved issues with egalitarian interpretations of certain pieces of Scripture (those are posts for another day), we consider ourselves egalitarians. We attend graduate school at an egalitarian Evangelical university. We are members of an egalitarian (yet also largely conservative) Evangelical church. And if we wrote our vows again today, we both agree that my vows would not differ from his.

While I wouldn't include "to obey" in my vows today, I consider my vows holy, so I won't try to ignore, alter, or break them.

But I'm also grateful that I'm married to a man who looked at me quite seriously this morning and said, "I'll obey you too, okay?"

"Deal," I said, "and I'll cherish you."

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As a big fan of Rachel Held Evans, I share this post with her blogging community for One in Christ: A Week of Mutuality 2012. Head on over to her site to read some great posts "discussing an egalitarian view of gender—including relevant biblical texts and practical applications. The goal is to show how scripture, tradition, reason, and experience all support a posture of equality toward women, one that favors mutuality rather than hierarchy, in the home, Church, and society."

Here's one of my favorites of the series so far. You can read words from other bloggers who are participating in the synchroblog at the Twitter hashtag #mutuality2012.