Awaken my heart

My thoughts are scattered tonight – mostly scattered in good places. The New Orleans Saints just won the SuperBowl, and they did so quite nicely. I am rejoicing with the people of New Orleans tonight; this victory is an incredible and gracious gift to a city that has ached for more than four years now. Some may say that it’s only a game, but it means so much more to New Orleans.

I’ve baked a lot this weekend: apple crisp to bring to a dinner on Friday night, cinnamon rolls (wow, opening a can is a lot of work!) for guests on Saturday morning, Cali’s Fudge Jumbles for small group lunch today, and praline bacon for the SuperBowl party tonight. Now there’s a quiche in the oven, in hopes that I might eat something other than yogurt and granola bars for breakfast this week. I should have probably read more and baked less this weekend, but I am thankful for the joy and soul-rest that chopping and measuring and mixing and waiting have brought (the eating hasn’t been too shabby either).

There are other things I should be doing right now. Blogging seems like it should be the last thing on my list, but I have chosen instead to set aside thank-you notes and e-mails and laundry folding to write here. I’ve done so because I need to stop letting my heart hibernate.

During my time off after our January term, I finally realized the sad truth that a massive part of my heart had gone numb. I was functioning on a solely mental level. Looking back, I can see that the shutdown happened sometime in the middle of last semester. I think the combination of transition, adjustment, and all that I was learning on both a heart and head level got to be too much, and instead of leaning in to that, I chose to lean back and avoid really engaging my heart. So I busied myself, avoided journaling, didn’t really slow down enough to write well here, and distanced myself from a lot of people. Of course, some of this was necessary – I still find myself overwhelmed by the demands of seminary – but it is easy to disguise unhealthy self-protection as responsibility and dedication.

And I don’t want to do that anymore. I want life and my studies to affect me on a deep level, even if that means tears. I want to be honest with myself, my community, and God. I want to love and be loved well. My prayer lately has been that God would awaken my heart, and He’s already started to do so. He hasn’t necessarily chosen the easiest or neatest of methods, but I see his kindness in all of it. With that continued prayer I will lean into this semester with my whole heart, mind, strength… indeed with my whole life (Mark 12:30).

I close with the words of a hymn we were introduced to in chapel on Friday:

Hast thou heard Him, seen Him, known Him? Is not thine a captured heart?

Chief among ten thousand own Him; joyful choose the better part.

Captivated by His beauty, worthy tribute haste to bring;

Let His peerless worth constrain thee,

Crown Him now, unrivaled King!

(From “Hast Thou Heard Him, Seen Him, Known Him?”, words by Miss Ora Rowan (1846-1945))

 

From this day forward…

This morning, I walked down the aisle at church. My pastor asked me some questions. I answered, “I do.”

It felt a little bit like a wedding, except I wasn’t wearing a white dress, there was no groom standing with me, and there was no massive party afterwards (there are also approximately 107 other ways in which this morning was not like a wedding).

But this morning I did enter into a marriage of sorts. I became a member of Crossroads Presbyterian Fellowship. The great preacher Martyn Lloyd-Jones described church membership as “the biggest honour which can come a man’s way in this world” (quoted by Ryken in The Communion of Saints, 55). Indeed, it was an honor to look out across the faces in our community-center-turned-sanctuary and hear them say “you are a part of us now!”

I first became a church member at Central Baptist, the church where I grew up, when I was in sixth grade. Several of the church’s dearest people took time to teach us about the meaning of church membership, and I keenly remember the sense of responsibility it brought with it. Most of us had grown up in the church, so we already felt like we belonged, but now we were making a commitment to be an official part of the life of the church. That meant we had a vote in church business. We could sit on church committees. And there was an expectation that we would contribute to the ministry of the church in various capacities, and that we would help to fund the business and work of the church through our tithes and offerings.

It has been more than nine years since I’ve been a regular attender at Central. Though that church will always be home, there has been an increasing eagerness in my heart for the past few years to put down roots in a church, to make a formal commitment to being part of a local church body in all of its beauty and mess. When I moved to St. Louis, an abundance of solid churches awaited me. Rather than shopping around, I decided to visit just a couple of churches, and before long I returned to Crossroads, the first church I had visited. On my visits to other churches, I found myself longing to be at the one church that felt like home here in St. Louis – which was Crossroads. I can’t explain what drew me to Crossroads initially, except to say that I believe this is where God wants me to be, and He has continued to show me the reasons that this church is a good place for me, and how I can make helpful contributions to its ministry.

This is a church where I am known. Where I am loved. Where my gifts will be used. Where I will learn and grow alongside my brothers and sisters. Where we will stand together as we watch the Lord work in our midst, expecting to be surprised.

And as of today, this is the church where I am staying. Church membership is a commitment – I am here for the long haul, come what may, for as long as the Lord has me in St. Louis. It brings with it a sense of responsibility and ownership – I can’t just sit on the sidelines anymore. It also brings a beautiful sense of belonging, one that resonates with my heart. As I make a commitment to this church, it is making a commitment to me, to love and care for me, to lead me spiritually, to challenge and encourage me in my walk with Christ, to walk alongside me whether rejoicing or mourning. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “No one can become a new man except by entering the Church, and becoming a member of the Body of Christ. It is impossible to become a new man as a solitary individual” (from The Cost of Discipleship, qtd. in Ryken, 45). This is the body, the community, which I join with in living out the newness of our lives in Christ.

It thrills my heart to have once again entered into a committed relationship with a local church body. It is good to be at home there.

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and the prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. (Ephesians 2:19-22)

 

Still dreaming

Yesterday was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. For some, that meant a relaxing day off. For others, that meant a day serving in the community. For many, it was life as usual, and that is where most of us find ourselves today.

But the late Dr. King’s dream is still waiting to come true, for he said, “We will not be satisfied until ‘justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream’” (quoting from Amos 5:24). I think he was talking about Kingdom justice on a global scale, and we’ve no doubt got a long way to go before we see God’s kingdom come and will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

I had some friends over yesterday morning to eat muffins and drink coffee and watch Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. My 3- and 5-year-old neighbors colored pictures of Dr. King while they listened to his immortal words for the first time (as my heart leapt for joy – what a privilege to share that with them!). Every time I listen to this speech something different catches my ear. Yesterday, the words Dr. King used in describing whites who supported the Movement were particularly striking:

… [they] have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

I wish I truly lived like I realize that.

Yesterday was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. But if we go on with our lives forgetting the example he set and the equality he fought for and the way he constantly reminded Americans of God’s heart for justice and unity, his dream may never come true.

So today, or tomorrow, or three weeks from now, I’d encourage you to take seventeen minutes out of your day to remind yourself of his dream, and to consider how the dreaming and praying and loving we do today, tomorrow, and three weeks from now can speed along the coming of God’s kingdom here on earth.

(not that it’s about us, but you know what I mean)

 

Haiti

The devastation has been on my mind all week. It’s probably a good thing I don’t have TV, because I would have been glued to it.

Of one thing I am certain: even when a 7.0 earthquake ravage an already hurting country, God is still who he says he is. The question becomes: will his people be who they say they are?

If the answer to this question is yes, then we need to be praying. We need to be giving – over and above, not instead of what we’re already giving to churches and ministries. We need to go if the opportunity arises. Since most of us won’t be able to go, at least not for some time, we need to be attentive to the needs immediately around us and seek to show the love of Christ wherever and however we can.

A few of my favorite bloggers have written some good things and offered helpful links and information. In case you have not yet had the chance to give (or if you want to give AGAIN, as little Orison did), or if you just want to know more about what’s happening so you can pray accordingly and not allow your life to be unaffected by this tragedy, please check these out:

More from Abraham Piper at 22 Words:

• A little clinic in Haiti
• What it really means to weep with those who weep

From Jon Acuff at Stuff Christians Like

• Beginning to comprehend the numbers

From Pastor Bryan McWhite

• Haiti Earthquake Rundown - this post has some informative links as well as links to various lists of organizations accepting donations

From the good folks at Desiring God

• 11+ organizations accepting donations
• An update from Food for the Hungry
• “A Poem About Jesus in Haiti” by Pastor John Piper — it’s a thinker

 

The Consummation of My First Semester in Seminary

Tomorrow begins a new term at Covenant. It is January term, so I will only be taking one class: Greek. Two weeks of all Greek, all the time. I will miss vacation (a lot), but I am really excited about focusing on just one class and diving into I John in its original language.

As promised last month, this is my post on the consummation (completion, perfection, fulfillment - take your pick) of my first semester at Covenant. I can point to one particular moment, one sentence that escaped my lips after only brief calculation, that is the ultimate representation of what I learned this semester:

“Caroline, I’m going to need you to help me out with this one; will you take it from here?”

Those words don’t seem profound, but for me they were both terrifying and liberating to say. It was during a group oral final for my Covenant Theology class. This is “the” final that gets talked about among first-year students at Covenant. We heard about it from Day One. Older students told tales of the difficulty of this final, but they also sang its praises: the process was wonderful, the necessity of teamwork beautiful.

We received fourteen questions for which to prepare answers. We divided them amongst three of us, so we would each specialize in four or five questions, then review the material we had prepared with the rest of our group. I don’t think I have ever fretted so much over an exam! The Big Day came, and when we entered the exam room and randomly picked our questions, none of the questions in which I had specialized were chosen. My fellow group member and dear friend Caroline quickly outlined the answer to the question I would be speaking on, and I managed to articulate what I felt was a pretty decent answer (which included an aptly placed, though unrehearsed, reference to lawn ornaments). However, when the professor pressed me for a more specific definition of some terms, I found myself at a loss. I fudged my way through the beginning of an answer, but knew I couldn’t make it much farther. So I swallowed my pride and did what I hoped was best for my group:

“Caroline, I’m going to need you to help me out with this one; will you take it from here?” 

As I quickly deliberated over whether or not to pass the baton or try to muddle through the answer myself, I heard that voice in my head saying, “You just have to say it. And it will have to be okay that you do so. It will just have to be okay.”

And it was okay.

It was okay because I had come to realize that my identity is not based on how well I do in class or on my exams. Whether I get A’s or C’s I am still a daughter of God. It was okay because even if I received less than the grade I hoped for, I knew that I had learned far more than grades or words could ever express in this class. It was okay because part of the point of this final was for us to support each other well as a team, and we had promised to extend grace to one another and help to fill in the gaps. It was okay because I am learning more and more every day that I cannot do this on my own — I need help, and I am learning to ask for it; after all, that is what community is about.

And that is what first semester was about. Coming to better understand my identity as a beloved daughter of God, adopted into His family thanks to the finished work of Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection. Valuing the process of learning more than the product, recognizing that learning happens both in and out of the classroom, and realizing that my professors may be those I address as such or they may be my classmates, my neighbors, my roommate, or my favorite 3-year-old. Discovering the absolute vitality of community in all aspects of life, and being willing to admit my own neediness more and more each day.

The lessons I learned in my first semester of seminary have utterly changed me. I am still digesting many of them, and while my brain and heart are full I am still so eager for more.

And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God. May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. (Colossians 1:9-14)

 

 

Nine from 2009

We’re already a few days in to the new year. I’ve noticed lately that many folks have chosen to reflect on the decade that has just ended rather than or in addition to just reflecting on the year 2009. While I support such reflection and can hardly believe that it’s been ten years since I rang in the year 2000 with friends and sparking cider in Anne Hyde’s living room, I’m not sure I’m old enough (yet) to briefly summarize a decade of my life. So… allow me to share nine significant and memorable events from 2009. Please reminisce along with me and feel free to point out anything I may have forgotten.

2009 will go down as the year I…

9. Witnessed the weddings of Melissa & Jeremy, Tom & Cecka, Katie & Renzo, Katherine & Danny, and Jason & Morgan.

8. Traveled to Montana for one of the aforementioned weddings and fell in love with fly fishing.

7. Met John Perkins and Andrew Peterson (not at the same time).

6. Got to spend the Fourth of July with the Christensen family for the first time in eight years. I even brought along a soon-to-be-priest from New Orleans, just to make life more interesting.

5. Started an annual tradition of throwing a Midwest Mardi Gras party. (I hope this actually becomes an annual tradition… if it doesn’t, I may eventually have to remove it from this list… but man, it was a good party!)

5. Re-connected with lots of old friends (the Niermanns, Helvigs, Fixes, Jake, Brad, Natedawg, Meg, the Weatheralls, Chris, Lindsey, Graves – the list goes on!) and family I hadn’t seen in far too long.

4. Had a different kind of YouthWorks summer that still afforded me incredible experiences at training in Denver and in my beloved communities of Savannah and New Orleans.

3. Ran my fourth Nashville half-marathon. It was my worst performance yet by far, but at least our tradition was maintained.

2. Attempted to write a psalm every day. I didn’t quite make it (by which I mean I barely wrote psalms at all the last two months of the year) but it was a very helpful discipline while it lasted.

1. Packed up my life in the midst of a fluke Minneapolis tornado, drove to St. Louis, unpacked with the help of new neighbors, and settled in to spend my first semester at Covenant Seminary, where I loved every minute… even the minutes I hated. (This probably deserves more than one highlighted event on this list, but since it will get its own post soon, this will suffice.)

And there you have it… a very good year!

If you know me, what would you add to this list?

 

Did I blink?

I feel like I missed Christmas.

Sure, I decorated a tree. I sang some carols. I went to a few parties and gatherings. I gave a few gifts and received even more. I ate — a lot: ham and brie and french toast and custard and shrimp dip and oh-so-much bacon (not all of those things at once). I watched White Christmas and A Christmas Story. I hugged my family. I admired grandma’s decorations.

But I also temporarily sold my soul to my first semester finals. I celebrated birthdays. I didn’t sleep much. I poured myself into the familiar vessels of old friends. I worked on a big writing project. I took my dad to the hospital (don’t worry, he’s fine!). I analyzed family drama. I missed whomever I wasn’t with at any given time.

And in the busyness of it all, I feel like I missed Jesus.

I sang and hummed “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” throughout the Advent season, and it was truly the prayer of my heart. I desperately needed Jesus to come. So why does it feel like he never did?

It’s because I was longing for Jesus to come “Silent Night” style, when all was calm, and my Christmas season was not calm.

But that’s not how Jesus came in the first place. He came in the midst of stressful chaos. His parents had spent months wondering and waiting, wrestling with their faith in the God who chose them to raise the Savior of the world. He showed up during an unfortunately-timed road trip, and his mother gave birth in less-than-luxurious accommodations. He came as a baby, which means his mother likely screamed in pain and there is little doubt that he cried as he met the world for the first time; that night in Bethlehem was anything but silent and still. His coming disrupted the routine work of shepherds and angered a king.

The baby Jesus didn’t wait to make sure that every Advent candle had been lit, every cookie had been baked, nor every holiday movie watched. He showed up in the midst of life — messy, busy, noisy life. And his timing couldn’t have been better.

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” Luke 2:14

My Christmas season wasn’t calm. But Emmanuel — God with us — came. He showed up, each and every day, in the midst of stress and chaos and joy and fellowship and longing and work and travel and life. As I look back, I can see the evidence of his presence because I know there was peace and I know He was with me.

Next year’s Advent likely won’t be much quieter or more calm that this one was. But I know now that I will need to expect Jesus to come on his terms and in his time — which means showing up right in the midst of whatever is happening as I live out the story He’s written for me here on earth.

 

Black coffee and epic music

This is a post about hospitality.

At about 1:30 last Wednesday night (well, Thursday morning) all I wanted to do was stop studying and write this post. I am not sure if I learned more about theology or hospitality that evening, but either way I am thankful.

At that wee hour I was sitting at my dining room table studying for my theology final. I had been in the same spot since about 9 PM, and my apartment had served as Study Central for most of that time. Over the course of the night, among five of us, two online exams were studied for and taken, one massive theology final was discussed and prepared for, and three Diet Cokes, one pot of coffee, a can of soup, a bag of almond-bark-covered pretzels and a bag of Chex Mix were consumed. All of this happened while listening to music that could only be described as “epic,” the stuff of movie trailers that proves to be great studying inspiration.

My studies were interrupted every so often by someone needing a refill or some paper or more snacks. And sometimes when these interruptions came, I had to check my attitude. Joyful servanthood wasn’t necessarily my first response. While I am abundantly proud of and grateful for the fact that our apartment is a place where people feel free to gather, to spend time, to make themselves at home, I have to remember that hospitality is about more than how good the coffee is (or isn’t).

Hospitality is about the attitude in which one receives and welcomes their guests, and the love communicated to them while they are present.

True hospitality happens even when it isn’t the most convenient thing for the host.

True hospitality means setting aside agenda (thought not necessarily completely).

True hospitality looks the same at 1:30 AM as it does at 6:00 PM.

True hospitality meets physical needs first, and continues to offer itself so that social, emotional, and spiritual needs will be met as well.

True hospitality gets down on its knees and washes feet.

Now that finals are done, I look back on that night and remember it as miserable and wonderful all at once. I am thankful for the comrades who surrounded me, and the grace that enabled me to practice hospitality. And I am glad that I chose to study in community, because that is what we were created to do. The words on the pages about creation, humanity, the inherent goodness of relationship, and the epic story of how God is redeeming it all came alive that night. So I poured another cup of black coffee for one, heated up a bowl of soup for another, took a deep breath, and leaned into the strains of that very epic music. It was a fitting soundtrack for the lessons of the night.

 

The affirmation of truth in the midst of crisis

Matt Chandler is a remarkable and relatively young pastor of a large and growing church in the Dallas area. He is a gifted speaker and his sermons have challenged and inspired many.

He recently learned that he has a brain tumor, and underwent surgery to remove it last Friday.

I just watched a video that was made for his church congregation. His words here are a reminder to me of why knowing Scripture and living from a foundation of good theology are absolutely VITAL, especially when faced with suffering. Matt and his family can wholeheartedly say that God is still good. 

It’s about five minutes long — I’d encourage you to watch.

 Video from Matt.

 

Metablogging (warning: seminary humor ahead)

The following conversation took place moments ago while studying and eating pumpkin pie…

Scene: My quiet apartment, 10:15 PM on Monday

Characters: Myself and neighbors Nick and Jason

Nick to me: “Have you ever blogged about consummation?”

Me to Jason: <exchange baffled look>

Me to Nick: “Um… no. What? Why?”

Nick: “I just think it would be interesting for you to write a blog on consummation, especially at the end of this semester.”

Me and Jason: <stifle laughter>

Me: “Ok, I promise you that once the semester is over, I will write a blog post entitled ‘Upon the Consummation of My First Semester of Seminary.’ In fact, I’ll even write a post right now declaring that.”

Nick: “Whoa… that’s like metablogging.”

The three of us: <lengthy conversation about the use of the word “meta” ensues>

All that to say, dear readers, stay tuned for an upcoming post at the consummation of the semester. I promise that it will be more exciting and less seminary-nerd-ish than this post! Hope you’ve enjoyed this tiny little glimpse into my Monday evening