if you live in southeast michigan...

I'd like to direct you to Ali's blog: Amani is Coming.

I traveled with Ali and Theresa to Kenya back in May, and what they are doing here in the States to respond to their experience is thrilling and challenging. The vision for even taking this annual trip to Kenya is exactly this: that members of our church, so gifted and well-equipped in many ways, would apply their skills and their hearts to loving the needy. Please consider attending this event on November 8. It is open to the public and is being advertised throughout Ann Arbor.

We have purchased a diaper bag for the little lady (sturdy and stunning, totally unlike anything you'd find in an American store) and a little bag full of stuffed animals (Kevin actually got it for me in Nairobi at the Amani headquarters on Mother's Day). You won't be disappointed--the products are designed with Westerners in mind.

Here's some more info from Ali:

"We're writing to tell you about a non-profit organization in Africa and how you can help refugee women just by doing your Christmas shopping. This organization is called Amani Ya Juu, Swahili for "Peace from Above" or "Higher Peace." It's a program that started in Nairobi, Kenya but reaches out to refugee women from many African countries. Women are taught sewing skills and gain experience in purchasing, bookkeeping, design, and more, while seeds of peace are sown in their lives through cross-cultural relationships and Bible study.

The beautiful things they make are then sold in Kenya and around the world, and every single penny spent on their things is put back into the program, to give the women a fair wage and to continue training other women.

Saturday, November 8, from 11am to 3pm, we're bringing Amani to Ann Arbor. There will be many products for sale, ranging from journals to bags, kitchen and home decor to kids toys, beautiful jewelry, and more. Everything is unique, made by hand from African materials.

There will also be a raffle. The money from the raffle will go toward buying a new sewing machine for the women in Nairobi.

Please stop on by to learn more about Africa and purchase some unforgettable Christmas presents that really do give back!"

Amani sale
Saturday, Nov. 8, 2008 11am-3pm
New Life Church Building -- 1541 Washtenaw, Ann Arbor, MI 48104

is it worth it?

After giving myself a few days of distance from my 9/8 and 9/10 posts plus comments, I’m still wondering if blogging is worth it. The whole experience of “the anonymous commenter” really threw me for a loop. On the one hand, I’m glad it gave me an opportunity to wrestle with God over what to do (and boy, did I wrestle), as well as to set some boundaries on my blog. At times, I was certain that good was coming from the situation, at the very least in my own personal life. On the other hand, some people to whom I told the story said, “That’s why some of us don’t blog,” and “That’s why I don’t get blogging.” Those comments were not meant to put me down, I know, but they carry with them a little bit of blame—like this was my fault. Like I shouldn’t have put myself out there in a vulnerable position for all the world to see. Cause that’s what’s wrong with blogs in the first place; they’re indiscriminate.

Do I just crave the attention that this blog provides? Is it wrong for me to share openly about my life and heart with anyone other than those who have won my trust and who also trust me?

Ironically, I’d like to be honest here. I felt a lot of shame in the last week about various things, but particularly about what happened on my blog. I’ll spare you the details, but I do want to say that I noticed something. Isn’t it odd that my outlet for writing, my forum for creativity, truthfully one of my main reasons for going part-time, felt like such a defeat? I was initially struck by how much like a demonic scheme that seemed. Or, as a friend pointed out, maybe God wanted to teach and refine me through this. Either way, now doesn’t seem to be the time to give up. I work so much less now, not because I’m an exhausted pregnant woman, but because it was clear back in March that I needed this. I needed the chance to test out my words, and maybe even my paintbrushes or camera. From my perspective, this blog motivates me to create.

I would really love your thoughts on this. What makes a blog worthwhile? What makes you read my blog? Do the pros outweigh the cons? Should I speak less openly about what’s going on in my life? If you wouldn’t mind taking the time to comment, it would mean a lot to me. I think it would also help me to know who reads this. Even if I don’t know you, I’m interested in your thoughts (with the exclusion of anonymous comments). Can I tempt you with a give-away?

Just kidding. It’s not that kind of blog, at least not right now.

Thanks, everybody.

dove does it again

LOVE this.



Today I got my new 25-year-old license in the mail, and all I could think was "pregnant face." A video like this reminds me of some things I need to remember.

for keri

"We live in such a way that no one will stumble because of us, and no one will find fault with our ministry. In everything we do, we show that we are true ministers of God. We patiently endure troubles and hardships and calamities of every kind. We have been beaten, been put in prison, faced angry mobs, worked to exhaustion, endured sleepless nights, and gone without food. We prove ourselves by our purity, our understanding, our patience, our kindness, by the Holy Spirit within us, and by our sincere love. We faithfully preach the truth. God’s power is working in us. We use the weapons of righteousness in the right hand for attack and the left hand for defense. We serve God whether people honor us or despise us, whether they slander us or praise us. We are honest, but they call us impostors. We are ignored, even though we are well known. We live close to death, but we are still alive. We have been beaten, but we have not been killed. Our hearts ache, but we always have joy. We are poor, but we give spiritual riches to others. We own nothing, and yet we have everything."
--2 Corinthians 6: 3-10

If I've ever seen this in action, I've seen it in you.

two angles

I got an anonymous comment from Monday’s post that I thought I would wrestle with a bit. It’s definitely the first openly critical comment I’ve ever gotten; it hurts real bad, but it’s also good for me, I think.

I thought about deleting the comment and the post, but that seemed like image maintenance to me. I’ll be honest, the hurt I feel is entirely a product of my desire to look good. I read back through my post with different lenses, and I can see that it comes across as unfeeling—the girl at the bus stop is presented as a neutral prop in my setting, instead of as a soul, created by God and in need of real love. In fact, I need to ask her forgiveness for walking by, and ironically, I’ll be seeing her again in a few days, so I’ll be praying for courage. That said, I’m making a few changes to the post, but in general, I’m leaving it the same. Part of learning how to write is learning from mistakes and receiving criticism, and I can’t just erase every mis-step as if it never happened. The only reason to do so would be to make myself look good.

My intention in writing that post was to make fun of myself, to look back on the myriad selfish reasons why I often don’t say hi to people I know when I see them from a distance (this is certainly not the first time that’s happened). I hope it made me look a bit ridiculous, but if it didn’t, then I failed to paint the picture I intended. I feel genuinely convicted by God, even more now after receiving this comment, that I can’t ignore his people; not because I’m tired or in a hurry, and not even because I’m shy or afraid. I appreciate being called out on that.

***************

I would also like to come at this situation from another angle, so: permission to speak boldly. From here on out, I’ll be monitoring my comments more closely, and as a general rule, I won’t be posting anonymous comments. I’ve gotten a few in the past, and since I’m an avid blog reader, I’ve noticed that they provide license for saying pretty much whatever one wants without consequences. That is, of course, the nature of the internet these days, but I’ve seen extremely hurtful things happen to people I love at the hands of blogs. And I guess this blog has a longer reach than I realized. If you know me, love me and care about me, I will take constructive criticism from you any day, and the odds are good you already have my personal email address. Write away. In fact, I’m probably going to need some feedback for this post.

Since the comment references New Life, I’ve decided to speak up, although it’s hard to know what is meant by “New Life,” since it is a giant mass of individuals. Many of these individuals are my family, and while I personally may do a somewhat crappy job at loving people and have, on many occasions, run away from messiness, it is entirely untrue that we, as a church, avoid pain, brokenness and unhappiness. Let it be known that I AM A MESS, my husband is a mess and all my best friends are complete messes. We are hurting and very often unhappy.

But everyday I watch my husband pour out his life for other people in pain, and I watch my friends love and pursue people who are depressed, sick, addicted, afraid, or alone. Does anybody ever love perfectly? Definitely not. But these people have given up their lives to try to love like Jesus. They are washed in the blood of Christ, they are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, and there is NO condemnation for them. None.

I claim this truth of the Gospel on behalf of my family, not just at New Life, but all around the world.

***************

To my anonymous commenter: I'm bold in my words, because I want to respond to what you said. I am not condemning or judging you as a person. You have been hurt, I'm sure, and I completely understand your frustration. If I've met you before, is there any chance you'd want to hang out with me? I've been wrestling my whole life with that question of "how much of this is even real?" My own fakeness is despicable to me. I really want you to know what it has been like for me to learn how to truly love God, even in the midst of that temptation to hide. I'd like to be a listening ear for you too, if you're looking for one. Please feel free to facebook me...

take it or leave it

Last week it was HOT in Ann Arbor. The students seemed optimistic, yet sweaty, on the first day of classes, and I was walking among them on my way back to New Life from the League. All the fluid in my body was descending quickly to my feet, the glare off the concrete was making my eyes squinty, and as I looked toward the future, the skin of my middle-aged years was looking more and more sun-damaged with every passing minute out there. I was, perhaps, waddling.

To my right (oh, if I’d only looked left!), a friend of mine sat in the shade of the bus stop, looking sad. My hipster wide-rimmed shades lended themselves nicely to peering at her out of the corner of my eye without turning my head. She didn’t notice me. Excellent. I kept walking.

Now, I happen to know that she probably was sad for a particular reason. It would have been really quite good of me to stop and talk to her. I was thinking these thoughts for the next block, along with: “NO. I refuse to turn around and go back. It is hot; I am tired. The bus will come soon anyway.”

I believe this was one of those take-it-or-leave-it moments that God gives me.

“Just go back.”

“Who me? Nah. Wait, who is this? Ha! I’m so silly. Not a big deal. Seriously.”

My question on the subject is: how much does God care whether or not I go back? Am I being sinful by moving forward toward the goal of elevating my legs? Or am I missing out on just one of the boundless ordinary opportunities to love others that God gives me? Listen, I certainly don't miss out on every opportunity. In fact, I’ve taken him up on quite a few of them. The truth is, I’m doing quite well at loving people, if I do say so myself.

But let me ask myself a question. How sweet could life be if I made it a goal to take God up on these promptings more frequently? In reality, they aren’t that numerous, and they aren’t that hard.

Often my reason for saying NO to God is my “spiritual green-ness.” Oh, I am very green indeed. From my perspective, my energy resources are very limited, draining quickly and Must! Be! Conserved! I join the ranks of many other devotedly green people by feeling genuinely panicked. At some point, the earth will be completely wiped out of its resources, and at some point, I will use my final drop of relational energy, have a nervous breakdown and die.

I can only laugh at myself. That, and remember the truth—that as I labor, “I am struggling with all [the Spirit’s] energy, which so powerfully works in me” (Colossians 1:29). I have to count on God to give me his strength to follow through on his ideas. He is trustworthy, and what he asks of me will not hurt me, at least not for long. His quiet calls beckon me to a more full life. I’ll be keeping my ear out.

disconcerting

Today, Krysta posted this link to some free music:




So far, I am enjoying me some JJ Heller; however, I decided to putz around on her website and found her blog. Turns out she's due to have a baby girl six days before me, and she has graced us with some lovely photos of her nursery (compliments of Lovely Little Things). If you're interested in decorating, you should really check it out.





Forgive me for feeling slightly deflated when I contemplated the current state of things in my own little girl's room:





Yikes. It's not even the right color.

a little dream psychology

I had a dream about the little lady last night. There were some strange elements—I came to the hospital to have a baby but didn’t feel or remember much of anything until she was born. She was absolutely beautiful but was somehow already able to walk. The most disturbing part was that I never established any sort of real attachment to her. I kept leaving her behind and forgetting about her, and I had this intense anxiety that I had entirely missed my chance to bond with her. Here she was, already walking, and I didn’t even know how to feed her.

Except for the fact that she was a drop-dead gorgeous baby, I think this might be categorized as a nightmare.

Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of the necessary research on labor and delivery, and I feel convicted by my dream--that maybe I'm becoming paranoid and not trusting God. Information is good, but I can't let it make me worry. Prayer would be good. Yes, maybe I should go pray. Ok, I'm gonna go pray now.

writing is a tricky task.

Writing is a tricky task. I dream of having something truly worthwhile to say, something that other people would want to hear. Maybe I could publish a memoir someday? Does a 24-year-old have any right to contemplate writing a memoir? Still, I want to be involved in the craft somehow. But how?

This summer has been both discouraging and encouraging along these lines. In many ways, I have felt thwarted. In fact, almost completely diverted. The writing class I had planned to take in Virginia Beach, which was, amazingly, one about creating a spiritual memoir, ended up starting around the time we left. I’ve also found that I’m not one to volunteer information about being pregnant, despite the fact that this milestone fills my thoughts. This blog is the perfect place to practice, but it haunts me with its archives full of forced word choice.

Other circumstances have recently spurred me on, however. Yesterday I was given several chapters from a book-in-progress about living with hormone fluctuations—my job is simply to provide feedback. I feel an excitement creeping in, because here is a subject on which I could genuinely contribute, not as the writer, but as a person speaking from experience. As a side note, I’ll admit, I wouldn’t mind having my name listed in the acknowledgments. Even more encouraging, the spiritual malaise of my first trimester (and really the last year of my life) is giving way to a deeper, truer relationship with God, and I’ve discovered I have more to talk about than just being pregnant. I don’t want this to become a mommy blog (Baby A, or Wee Strong as we call her, can have her own website); I want to keep talking about matters of the spirit. Hopefully a little deep calling to deep will happen, both the result of and beyond the realm of motherhood.

Finally, I’ve decided that a painful reading through old blog entries might make an excellent exercise in developing my voice. I don’t want to write something just because it sounds good. I want to write it because I mean it. I can detect a false motive in a single word when I read some of my past blogs—I don’t want this to make me feel ashamed, so that I end up deleting most of my entries. I want this to remind me to test the words I use now for authenticity and truth.

What I’m saying is: I have something to say. I should say it.

at which point, life changes drastically (yet again)

Wow. March 28th. That's kind of ridiculous.

But guess what? I have the best excuse ever!!

Baby Armstrong decided to make his/her presence known on April 7, after which I stopped posting, because I didn't really feel like writing about some random thing going on in my life, when the fact is: aaaaahhhhh!!! I'm having a baby!!!!

In case you interpreted that "aahh" as "Yippee, this is so exciting, and I'm experiencing maternal bliss!"--well, that's kind of true to a certain degree, but it's also: "Wow, I feel like crap and I want to sleep all the time, and this is not what I was planning for my life, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it."

In reality, the last three months of my life have been some of the hardest ever. Since finding out, we 1) had to go to the ER, got diagnosed with a "high risk" pregnancy (which later turned out to be a mis-diagnosis), 2) went to Kenya for two weeks, which consisted of me spending most of the time on the couch and/or losing my mind, 3) left three days after our return from Kenya for LT in Virginia Beach, and 4) got adjusted to the violent mood swings, nausea, cravings for ranch dressing, and extreme fatigue of a pregnant woman in her first trimester. Whoa.

Life has leveled out significantly, and I am now one excited mama. I've been feeling the baby move for the first time this week, which is nuts! I am now at the beginning of the 17th week, and here is a photo for your viewing pleasure, taken right before heading off to a sweet fireworks show (there were local and professional shows up and down the beach, so it felt like we were actually in the middle of the fireworks). I'm not actually this big all the time, but we had just eaten a crazy good meal, ala Bobby Flay (Kevin's new muse).






Hey there, little person.

taking a long soak in big differences

For those of you who have never taken the Myers-Briggs personality test (also known as the Keirsey Temperament sorter), let me enlighten you: you must take it. And then you must allow me to enlighten you about you. I think I'm going to be writing more about this in the future.

Did you know that for the four larger personality categories (Artisan, Guardian, Idealist, Rational), there are specific hand gestures that people of the different types tend to use? And that it actually rings true in almost every case that I've observed? It's gotten so that I can pretty much say what personality type a person is, without even thinking about their personality, but simply by watching them.

Did you know that if you are an Intuitive-Perceiver, like me, meaning you are an abstract thinker and you're pretty indecisive, that you are at the absolute bottom rung on the ladder of efficiency and productivity?? And that it's not because you totally suck and you're lazy, but because you have very different priorities than many other people? Glory be!

Did you know that most extraverts are able to figure out what they're thinking as long as they're talking, but become confused if they don't share their thoughts? Did you know that, without time to process alone, introverts get more confused about their own thoughts the more they talk about them? I was wondering (and so was Kevin) why it takes so darn long for me to answer just one simple question.

Did you know that if you are a "Sensing" person, then the odds are pretty good that you're thinking right now: This is kind of cool, but really, who cares?

What I'm trying to communicate is that we're all different--did you know that? Come on, do you really believe it? Or do you expect people to react like you would to the situations of life? Do you look down on them for not valuing what you value? Do you compare yourself to someone else and think you're falling way short in various areas?

I think we are quick to abuse our personalities--mainly, we force them to do something they weren't meant to do. But I want to say right now, Thank you, Jesus, for making me who I am. I want to be ME.

On that note, thought I'd let you know that sometime in the next few months, I'm changing to part-time staff at New Life. I am actually loving what I do now, but I'm doing too much of it and not enough other stuff. So what I'm going to do with that extra time is take some writing workshops, and I'm going to write for awhile. Just to see what happens.

My work will most likely be published.

On this blog. Heh heh.

first day of spring

“It’s pretty,” we agree.

A moment later, as worn-out wipers disperse the fluffy, perfect little mess, Kevin tests the brakes. Ahead of us, a red car careens soundlessly, over the curb and through a patch of shrubs by the sidewalk, halting ashamedly at the foot of the grumpy house on the corner.

wrestling with a nasty procrastination habit

petty crimes of forgetfulness:
failing to avoid failure, as I
drag and defer.

who drags the sea of days for my wasted time?

does my life leak out
through the crack of my unwillingness?

a little flannery (or a long philosophical post)

"Oh, Matt. There are spaces of sorrow only God can touch. You did a terrible thing, Matt, a terrible thing. But you have a dignity now. Nobody can take that from you. You are a son of God, Matthew Poncelet."

I'm like a broken record, but I'm unrelenting and unapologetic about that. Hopefully there are enough individual nuances to each post, so that even though they all say the same thing, they're still worth reading.

Last night Kevin and I watched the movie Dead Man Walking (see quote). It had been sitting in its Netflix sleeve for over a week, because we knew it would be tough to watch--not exactly your typical Valentine's Day flick. But we both felt up to it last night, because we'd had a pretty restful day, and I can now confidently say that this movie drove my ability to worship Jesus this morning. As with The Kite Runner, I can't openly recommend it, because it is utterly painful and horrifying at times (I would absolutely not recommend it to anyone who has ever been abused in any way). But if you're open to it and up for it, I would say, give it a shot, but read some Flannery O'Connor first.

If it seems like this woman is the one dead person with whom I'd like to spend a day, then I've represented myself correctly. Yesterday morning, without knowing how much it would help me understand the movie, I read an article by her called "The Church and the Fiction Writer" and then promptly stumbled (without even looking) upon an article written about her called "Who's Afraid of Flannery O'Connor?" by Douglas Jones, which I would recommend if you want a sweeping overview of her work. Both wrestle with the question of whether or not Christians must be willing to face abundant horror in order to understand abundant grace.

Flannery O'Connor's characters are total creeps, just exactly the kind of people you would hope never to meet on the street. I've been saying for two years that The Violent Bear It Away is my favorite book in all the world, but I think I am just now beginning to understand why. A spare summary here (don't read if you want to experience the shock of it all on your own): 1) kid is hellfire-brimstone despicable, 2) kid drowns his disabled cousin, 3) kid gets horribly and randomly abused, 4) kid experiences the extension of God's merciful hand into a frightening and horrible landscape of suffering. (All the credit for the fact that I understand this book at all goes to my favorite professor of all time, Cindy Sowers, the one living person with whom I'd like to spend a day, to see if I can find out what she's really thinking).

"The violent bear it away" is the King James Version of "forceful men take hold of it," which I quoted from Matthew 11 in December. God is weaving this verse into my very essence. (Too dramatic?) It's true! In O'Connor's book, the violent boy takes hold of the kingdom of heaven and bears it away. I don't think that's what those KJV dudes meant when they translated it that way, but I know it's what good ol' Flannery meant!

This is where Dead Man Walking comes in. This movie was the bare, ugly bones of the Gospel: that Jesus accepts even the murderers and rapists (though we don't want to know it), and in the end, they probably understand what's really happening better than anybody. And it's beautifully and violently clear--you don't have to derive your own Christian meaning. People are talking about Jesus and thanking Jesus and crying to Jesus the whole time, even while the vicious sin of the crime is available for all to see, reminding us, the viewers, that there's a reason we all need our Deliverer.

The film was broken up from beginning to end by short shots of the crime, so that I could never forget what had really happened. It helped me remember that murder is real, rape is real. This is important, because it's easy to say that God will accept even a rapist, when you don't have to think about the brutal reality of it. But Jesus looks upon the crime without a filter, weeps and holds the wounded ones, and then extends forgiveness to the criminal. I've never known Jesus' love to be that big, never tried to get it till now. Dead Man Walking made it real for me.

∴

There are other people who have a little Flannery in them:

--Brennan Manning (he writes in The Ragamuffin Gospel: "At Sunday worship, as in every dimension of our existence, many of us pretend to believe we are sinners. Consequently, all we can do is pretend to believe we have been forgiven. As a result, our whole spiritual life is pseudo-repentance and pseudo-bliss.")
--Sufjan Stevens (John Wayne Gacy, Jr. is a song about a serial killer that makes me sick to listen to, but there's the line: "On my best behavior, I am really just like him. Look beneath the floor boards for the secrets I have hid." And then there's Seven Swans: "He will take you. If you run, He will chase you." That's a rather foreboding sort of grace, but I like it.)
--Over the Rhine (Everyman's Daughter: "I carry the inward aching. Like you, I too am naked. I don’t look that good, but this is flesh and blood. I’m everyman’s daughter.")
--Rainer Maria Rilke ("We must not portray you in king's robes, you drifting mist that brought forth the morning...")

I'm always looking for more.

right here, right now

At New Life, we've been talking about "the Kingdom" and what it means to pray for God's kingdom to come and His will to be done on earth, as it is in heaven. This means thinking about things, both big and small, in terms of how God's kingdom might come right here, right now. The bulk of the work is small.

Last Sunday was a big day for me though. A representative from Compassion International brought 100 pictures of children who need sponsors. He also brought along George, a Kenyan man, perhaps my age, who was the first child to be sponsored in his specific project in Nairobi, back in the 80s. Right now, he is getting his MBA and wants to go into public health in Kenya, specializing in infectious diseases.

I got to go out to lunch with George and some others. I also got to man one of the Compassion tables and watch as people searched the faces to find their child. After hearing George's stories about life in Kenya, the impact $35 a month makes, the kind of changes that can happen in a country at the hands of its children--I knew that these flat-broke college students were going to see God's kingdom come in their midst in big and small ways. I'm not sure I've ever been this sure that I am right in the thick of it. Right here, right now.

∴

My second book of 2008 was The Kite Runner. If you feel willing to open the floodgates of your inner sanctum, go ahead and read it. I wasn't totally prepared--that's why I'm warning you. I'm unsure about how to talk about it. The general plotline is a major stretch, particularly towards the end. The prose is often beautiful, but then sometimes I felt insulted by the author, like, "Thanks, but I was catching on to that on my own."

I guess it doesn't really matter, though, because the characters were so real. Since the vast majority of the book takes place in modern Afghanistan, the characters were also in a whole lot of pain, and the things that happened to them were unimaginable; also unimaginably commonplace, as if they weren't that big of a deal.

There is a character named Ali, who had polio as a child and thus walks with a limp, swinging one leg out to the side with each stride. There were little boys. It's hard to even think about them.

The question that rolled through my mind right after I finished the book was: How would I react if I could truly confront the fact that these things happen to real people, not just to characters in books? It was 4AM, during that sick time when I wasn't sleeping much, and I asked God to send me rejected children to adopt someday.

I remember wondering if I'd care as much about this when I woke up the next day.

∴

I think I still care, I really do. Kevin and I chose a Compassion boy named Johnston, who's 14, and just not that cute anymore. My guess is he's been waiting for several years to get a sponsor. The older ones rarely, if ever, get picked, because those little three-year-olds are absolutely irresistible. Still, Johnston, I have to say, it's good to know you. I hope to meet you.

I have to ask myself if I am writing this to proclaim my good deeds before men. If you like me more, whomever it is that reads this, then I guess that's my reward.

But truly, this what I'm thinking about these days. This is what is on my mind. I am overwhelmed and moved by the lonely and rejected, the ones that nobody wants. I want those people to know the love of Jesus through me. I really really do.

what i'll be doing at 4am

As a small window into my life, I thought I'd let you know that I'll be staying up all night tonight. This was not my idea. At Michigan, there is an event called the 40 Days of Prayer that has been happening annually. There is a prayer room on campus open 24 hours a day for 40 days, and anyone from any organization or church can use it to pray. I hear it's pretty cool in there, though I haven't visited. In general, this sort of thing makes me wonder: "Where am I? Cause I'm pretty sure I'm at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor...but maybe not."

There was an opening ceremonies of sorts, during which one of the organizers challenged us to spend one whole night in prayer. I kind of chuckled to myself. You know how these college kids can be--so passionate and energetic. Hope they have a good time.

So then Katie, this girl in my small group whom I pretty much adore and who has a lovely unique way of influencing people just by being herself--she comes up with this idea that maybe our whole small group could do an all-nighter. I guess I should have seen this coming.

So tonight, I think of myself in solidarity with people like Linn and Glenn and all you missionaries out there who have to go to wakes and all-night evangelistic events. You're brave souls. I'm really hoping I'll survive this, in honor of you.

Last time I stayed up all night to "pray," I was in high school, and I made a pretty impulsive decision around 4AM. It was a weird experience. This is a step of faith for me, that it'll be different.

Now I'm off to take a nap.

maybe in 2008 i'll write about these things

I know I've said this before, but I would like to post more often and get in the habit of writing about what is going on with my work. There are a few things that I'm feeling pretty excited about, so I'm hoping to tell you about them in the next few months.

As a preview:
--I actually started counseling on Wednesday. I have had this sense that God is using this time in my life to give me emotional health and stability. Lately it is very clear that my emotional volatility holds me back from a lot of things, particularly in ministry. The woman I met with asked me questions about my family tree and the timeline of my life, and we unexpectedly focused a little bit on high school, a period of time I haven't thought much about lately. It was kind of strange to go back and think about how some of those events still effect me now.
--I've been mulling over the concept of "women's leadership development" and how we as women are typically motivated to serve in the church. I don't think I'm coming up with any original ideas when I throw out that we're ridiculously different from men. At the risk of generalizing things too much, I'm developing some theories in my own mind about a woman's need for security in ministry versus a man's need for significance. A man might ask, "Do I have what it takes to succeed in this role?" A woman might ask, "Who will go with me?" Bottom line: women need something very different, and I'd like to that difference to become more acknowledged in the fabric of our church. Not sure what that means, but I sure do sound like Elisabeth Elliott right now. Heh.
--We're leading a trip to downtown Detroit for spring break, and I am feeling like Detroit might just be the only place I'd want to spend a week right about now. I have no idea why, but I'm drawn in and excited.

In the meantime, I'm sick as a dog. I seriously haven't been this sick since I was a kid. It started a week ago with a sore throat that lasted for five days, and yesterday, the sore throat seemed to creep up the right side of my neck and then settle in my ear. Unfortunately, I was the CORE retreat by then, so I took some Nyquil last night and hoped for sleep. Before I could settle in, though, I started in with this dry cough that I still have today. No more aching ear, but everything seems to be clogged up, and still, the perpetual sore throat. I've been in and out of work for the last week, without a real sick day that goes from waking up to going to bed. Maybe I should do that tomorrow.

cursed are the ones who can't abide

I'm still swimming in revelations.

This song got me through several very nasty nights in November, and I kept wanting to post it. Strangely, I've never considered Shane & Shane a favorite band, but the last song that moved me this much was by them. (This version was the best I could find on YouTube, despite a bit from John Piper during the long postlude.)

Embracing Accusation

The father of lies
coming to steal, kill and destroy
all my hopes of being good enough.
I hear him say, "Cursed are the ones who can't abide."
He's right. Hallelujah. He's right.
The devil is preaching
the song of redeemed,
that I am cursed and gone astray.
I cannot gain salvation.
Embracing accusation.
Could the father of lies
be telling the truth
of God to me tonight?
If the penalty of sin is death
then death is mine.
I hear him say, "Cursed are the ones who can't abide."
He's right. Hallelujah. He's right.
The devil is preaching
the song of the redeemed,
that I am cursed and gone astray.
I cannot gain salvation.
Oh the devil's singing over me
an age-old song
that I am cursed and gone astray.
Singing the first verse so conveniently over me.
He's forgotten the refrain:
Jesus saves.

I've been meaning to say thank you to the anonymous commenter from my last post. Your note was an encouragement and a surprise to Kevin and me. I've been wondering if I ever met you, because I came to Ann Arbor in 2001.

forceful men

Due to the fact that nobody seems to care to post anymore and I am therefore not sufficiently entertained, I thought maybe I'd post for once. I shouldn't have to do this, though. Don't give me your excuses: that it's Christmas, or that you're writing a book inspired by your blog, or that you need to spend more time with your family, or that you're in the hospital having a baby. I've heard enough. Get back to work!

I'm snowed in, however, and have lately been thinking of things I'd like to post about, so I'll cut you some slack for now.

I've been describing my semester (yes, I still think in semesters) in terms of the difference between a chisel and a sledgehammer. These are two metaphorical tools that God uses on my hellbound devotion to spiritual greatness.

Over the years, He's been kind and gentle: "tink tink" goes the chisel, oh so softly. Lately, it's been otherwise. He's coming at me with the ferocity of a rescuer, crushing that little beast within with a sledgehammer or a jackhammer or a hammerhead shark. What have you. At the risk of seeming melodramatic--oh forget it, the whole point is not worrying how I "seem"--this has been ridiculously painful. I'm really attached to my little beast. I feel comfortable with it, though it does trap me and keep me perpetually depressed.

I believe God is teaching me to be happy. I've never felt I deserve to be happy unless I prove I have the discipline and maturity to handle it well. BUT "the splendor of a soul in grace is so seductive it surpasses the beauty of all created things" (The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning).

Find the overarching theme here:

"Her world has collapsed. The God she had fashioned in her own image, so pleased with her piety, has vanished." (TRG)

"Many of us do not want the truth about ourselves; we prefer to be reassured of our virtue."

"A vast horde of souls were rumbling toward heaven. [They came] marching behind the others with great dignity, accountable as they had always been for good order and common sense and respectable behavior. They alone were on key. Yet she could see by their shocked and altered faces that even their virtues were being burned away." (Revelation, Flannery O'Connor).

"I tell you the truth: Among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist; yet he who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully advancing, and forceful men lay hold of it" (Matthew 11:11-12).

Could it be that "spiritual greatness" is of very little consequence? After all this time?

The forceful men and women taking hold of the kingdom are the tax collectors and prostitutes, the dim-witted disciples and the little kids; these are the people who truly know Jesus.

Oh.

blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

Little Girl

I’m walking on the sidewalk under golden shade as school lets out. Half a block behind me walks a little girl. I first notice she’s there, because her shoes scuff the sidewalk with every step. She shuffles along, heading for home.

I approach the crossing guard, brilliant and orange. She smiles at me first, then looks back and calls the little girl by name. We part ways here, as the little girl steps into the street and the crossing guard plants herself firmly in the intersection, poised with her STOP sign. The streets are empty in every direction.

The guard is silent and smiling, her only job to protect. This little girl’s life is extravagant beauty, infinite worth. The drawings and pencils in her backpack, the color of her shoes, her thoughts of home--defend and shelter them. This is one little girl in the universe, and she is crossing the street.