Friday, April 16, 2010
[gotta laugh]
Well it has been fun, but I think I'm quitting this blog. I've got to stop running. Or blogging deep thoughts. Or thinking deep thoughts while running. It's gotten much too serious too fast, and after playing hide and go seek with the Sudanese kids tonight, I realize we gotta laugh twice as much as we cry/think about the meaning of life/dwell on deep stuffff.
[have we lost ourselves?]
It's VEISHEA. The tradition Iowa State is known for. The supposed essence of everything it means to be a Cyclone. The event some students spend an entire year preparing for. But instead of being stoked to celebrate, a huge part of me would rather just spend quality time with close friends, especially when I'm constantly reminded that life is short.
In the last two weeks three people died much too soon and one was finally found dead after missing for almost three months. 28, 46, 22 and 22 were their ages. Two were freak medical things. One was an accident. One is yet to be determined. They had plans. They had dreams. They had things they wanted to do, places they wanted to see and goals they wanted to accomplish. They had friends and family that never got to say goodbye. One was a dad. Two others were ISU students. The fourth was recently married.
And I didn't have to know them to be impacted. I know people close to them, and sometimes that's all it takes to hit you in the gut and remind you that life is not a guarantee and the end of it on this earth can come with no warning.
I think this realization is what makes VEISHEA all the more trivial, too. Because you start to wonder why we even get wrapped up in all of this when it won't really matter in the end. Heck, it may not even matter by Monday. The stories will be stale by next week, and the trashed campus will be picked up quickly to carry on with everything that means finals.
And I can't help but ask myself one question as we prepare to watch drunken madness unfold for the next two days - "We were meant to live for so much more. Have we lost ourselves?" It's the chorus of a Switchfoot song, and I think it's an honest thing to ask.
I've had my share of VEISHEA. I've tried it. I've been to the parties. I've had my "taste". But when I take a step back and really look at what is supposed to be a "celebration" of ISU, I can't help but question if we've lost that and maybe ourselves in the process.
In the last two weeks three people died much too soon and one was finally found dead after missing for almost three months. 28, 46, 22 and 22 were their ages. Two were freak medical things. One was an accident. One is yet to be determined. They had plans. They had dreams. They had things they wanted to do, places they wanted to see and goals they wanted to accomplish. They had friends and family that never got to say goodbye. One was a dad. Two others were ISU students. The fourth was recently married.
And I didn't have to know them to be impacted. I know people close to them, and sometimes that's all it takes to hit you in the gut and remind you that life is not a guarantee and the end of it on this earth can come with no warning.
I think this realization is what makes VEISHEA all the more trivial, too. Because you start to wonder why we even get wrapped up in all of this when it won't really matter in the end. Heck, it may not even matter by Monday. The stories will be stale by next week, and the trashed campus will be picked up quickly to carry on with everything that means finals.
And I can't help but ask myself one question as we prepare to watch drunken madness unfold for the next two days - "We were meant to live for so much more. Have we lost ourselves?" It's the chorus of a Switchfoot song, and I think it's an honest thing to ask.
I've had my share of VEISHEA. I've tried it. I've been to the parties. I've had my "taste". But when I take a step back and really look at what is supposed to be a "celebration" of ISU, I can't help but question if we've lost that and maybe ourselves in the process.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
[change begins with moi]
"when i was young and free and my
imagination had no limits,
i dreamed of changing the world;
as i grew older and wiser
i realized the world would not change.
and i decided to shorten my sights
somewhat and change only my country.
but it, too, seemed immovable.
as i entered my twilight years,
in one last desparate attempt,
i sought to change only my family,
those closest to me,
but alas they would have none of it.
and now i like on my death bed
and realize (perhaps for the first time) that
if only i'd changed myself first,
then by example i may have influenced my family
and with their encouragement and support
i may have bettered my country,
and who knows
i may have changed the world." [Anglican Bishop]
I rediscovered that poem on our home computer over break, and it's pretty convicting eh? I mean, I constantly have these visions of changing the world, or at least some small corner of it, yet maybe that corner is simply my heart, my life, myself. Maybe change is not about bringing justice to every single thing that breaks my heart in this world but relying on the only One who can. And maybe the most important thing is letting God destory my pride, my arrogance and my selfishness first before I begin to think I have the power to inspire or even change others.
imagination had no limits,
i dreamed of changing the world;
as i grew older and wiser
i realized the world would not change.
and i decided to shorten my sights
somewhat and change only my country.
but it, too, seemed immovable.
as i entered my twilight years,
in one last desparate attempt,
i sought to change only my family,
those closest to me,
but alas they would have none of it.
and now i like on my death bed
and realize (perhaps for the first time) that
if only i'd changed myself first,
then by example i may have influenced my family
and with their encouragement and support
i may have bettered my country,
and who knows
i may have changed the world." [Anglican Bishop]
I rediscovered that poem on our home computer over break, and it's pretty convicting eh? I mean, I constantly have these visions of changing the world, or at least some small corner of it, yet maybe that corner is simply my heart, my life, myself. Maybe change is not about bringing justice to every single thing that breaks my heart in this world but relying on the only One who can. And maybe the most important thing is letting God destory my pride, my arrogance and my selfishness first before I begin to think I have the power to inspire or even change others.
Monday, April 12, 2010
[continual transitions]
Today my devotion talked about God helping us through time of transition - changing jobs, illness, loss, new family situations, etc. I think all of life is a transition though, you know. If we're seeking to be better people, if we're growing, if we're continually putting aside our pride for God's promises, then we're always in transition. Always moving forward. Always trying to improve what is to what can be.
The trouble, then, is not so much about the transitions but whether or not we have the courage to allow them to happen. It's easy to get stuck in our ways, our ideas and our comforts. We like to be obedient to things that are easy or things we want. But it's hard to be obedient when change isn't necessarily what we want. It's easy to say yes to transitions or changes we like. It's much harder to do so when it's something we don't.
I don't think God ever asked us to like everything though. He asked us to trust and be obedient, but He knows our minds are short sighted, our loyalties fail us and our heart's good intentions don't always carry through.
However, David McNally once said, "Our lives are a continuing journey - and we must learn and grow at every bend as we make our way, sometimes stumbling, but always moving, toward the finest within us." Despite our failures, our fears or our struggles, we've gotta keep running the race. We have to keep moving on the course of life. We must keep striving for the best within us, and in turn, we may inspire others to do the same.
Isaiah 1:19 says, "If you are willing and obedient you will eat the best from the land." It's not just good. It's not just on par. It's the best. The greatest. The most fulfilling, and that's what God promises to give each of us if we will accept the challenges or transitions He puts in front of us every day. So even though the finish line is our ultimate goal, we cannot forget the everyday blessing of continual transitions. And we cannot forget all the miles along the way that make us who we are.
The trouble, then, is not so much about the transitions but whether or not we have the courage to allow them to happen. It's easy to get stuck in our ways, our ideas and our comforts. We like to be obedient to things that are easy or things we want. But it's hard to be obedient when change isn't necessarily what we want. It's easy to say yes to transitions or changes we like. It's much harder to do so when it's something we don't.
I don't think God ever asked us to like everything though. He asked us to trust and be obedient, but He knows our minds are short sighted, our loyalties fail us and our heart's good intentions don't always carry through.
However, David McNally once said, "Our lives are a continuing journey - and we must learn and grow at every bend as we make our way, sometimes stumbling, but always moving, toward the finest within us." Despite our failures, our fears or our struggles, we've gotta keep running the race. We have to keep moving on the course of life. We must keep striving for the best within us, and in turn, we may inspire others to do the same.
Isaiah 1:19 says, "If you are willing and obedient you will eat the best from the land." It's not just good. It's not just on par. It's the best. The greatest. The most fulfilling, and that's what God promises to give each of us if we will accept the challenges or transitions He puts in front of us every day. So even though the finish line is our ultimate goal, we cannot forget the everyday blessing of continual transitions. And we cannot forget all the miles along the way that make us who we are.
Friday, April 9, 2010
[excessive essentials]
They were just butter knives. About 15 of 'em. Then there were forks, two sizes of spoons and numerous sharp knives of all sorts. But I saw her eyes get big as she watched me arrange them in the drawer, and I felt so uncomfortable by the time she asked, "why do you need so many knives?"
We explained that they're just hand-me-downs and leftovers from others, but still, it got to me. Her kitchen in Africa has three knives - one for butter, one for meat and one for cutting up everything else. And news flash - her life has not been ruined. She is no worse off. Her family still eats. She still has friends.
Compared to her kitchen, those 15 butter knives were excessive, but in the U.S., I think we often use the label for only those with certain types of houses or cars or salaries or furniture or clothes. We define wealth according to brands and see many wants as needs. We need cell phones with internet. We need a new swim suit for the summer. We need the next great thing, the next fad, the next technology. But do we really? Do we really need all 15 butter knives?
I'm not here to judge how anyone chooses to spend their money either. I'm just as guilty if not more, but I don't think it would hurt any of us to take some time and re-examine what we really need. I mean, maybe this economic valley is a good thing right now. Don't get me wrong, I know it has hurt us all in different ways and different extremities, but could it also be a blessing in disguise? Could it also be a chance to realize all the things we have that we don't even realize are excess?
I know I've said it before, but that's what I love that about getting to know internationals. They keep me in-check with the things we take for granted here. Like not having to lock our door constantly or put an electric wire around our farm for safety. Like having the family I do. Like knowing that we have enough money to get by and enough blessings to forget.
Gandhi once said, "Live simply that others may simply live." And in these anxious times of tight budgets, threatened job security and bleak futures, I think it's important for all of us to remember that. To remember that we have more wealth here in terms of extras, opportunities, freedoms, safety, possibilities and choices then so many people in the world. To remember that excess isn't a term only reserved for those with huge houses, expensive cars and luxurious dinner outings. Because necessities for me may be luxury for someone else and vice versa, but it's all in perspective. It's all about having the courage to try and see ourselves from another's view point, and it's all about realizing, once again, that we take nothing with us when we go.
My grandma passed away March 14. And as I spent time at home that week reflecting on a lot of things, I realized that all the genealogy records she kept, all the newspaper articles she cut out, all the stuff she saved that meant a lot to her were really just things in the end. She wasn't an excessive or materialistic woman by any means, but still it hit me - we take nothing with us when we go. Instead I have her string of pearls, her Bible and a lot of good memories from growing up only two miles away. Some material things yes, but they didn't go with her.
So who's going to care about what kind of cell phone we had when we go? Who's going to care about the type of house we lived in, the car we drove, the clothes we wore, the purse we carried, the kitchen accessory we just had to have? Who's going to want our extra butter knives, extra t.v.'s, extra shoes, extra stuff? I'm not asking us to give all of those things away right now, but maybe it wouldn't hurt if we tried to see them for what they are. Just things. Just excess. And maybe it wouldn't hurt to be thankful that we have the ability to be excessive and the ability to change it.
We explained that they're just hand-me-downs and leftovers from others, but still, it got to me. Her kitchen in Africa has three knives - one for butter, one for meat and one for cutting up everything else. And news flash - her life has not been ruined. She is no worse off. Her family still eats. She still has friends.
Compared to her kitchen, those 15 butter knives were excessive, but in the U.S., I think we often use the label for only those with certain types of houses or cars or salaries or furniture or clothes. We define wealth according to brands and see many wants as needs. We need cell phones with internet. We need a new swim suit for the summer. We need the next great thing, the next fad, the next technology. But do we really? Do we really need all 15 butter knives?
I'm not here to judge how anyone chooses to spend their money either. I'm just as guilty if not more, but I don't think it would hurt any of us to take some time and re-examine what we really need. I mean, maybe this economic valley is a good thing right now. Don't get me wrong, I know it has hurt us all in different ways and different extremities, but could it also be a blessing in disguise? Could it also be a chance to realize all the things we have that we don't even realize are excess?
I know I've said it before, but that's what I love that about getting to know internationals. They keep me in-check with the things we take for granted here. Like not having to lock our door constantly or put an electric wire around our farm for safety. Like having the family I do. Like knowing that we have enough money to get by and enough blessings to forget.
Gandhi once said, "Live simply that others may simply live." And in these anxious times of tight budgets, threatened job security and bleak futures, I think it's important for all of us to remember that. To remember that we have more wealth here in terms of extras, opportunities, freedoms, safety, possibilities and choices then so many people in the world. To remember that excess isn't a term only reserved for those with huge houses, expensive cars and luxurious dinner outings. Because necessities for me may be luxury for someone else and vice versa, but it's all in perspective. It's all about having the courage to try and see ourselves from another's view point, and it's all about realizing, once again, that we take nothing with us when we go.
My grandma passed away March 14. And as I spent time at home that week reflecting on a lot of things, I realized that all the genealogy records she kept, all the newspaper articles she cut out, all the stuff she saved that meant a lot to her were really just things in the end. She wasn't an excessive or materialistic woman by any means, but still it hit me - we take nothing with us when we go. Instead I have her string of pearls, her Bible and a lot of good memories from growing up only two miles away. Some material things yes, but they didn't go with her.
So who's going to care about what kind of cell phone we had when we go? Who's going to care about the type of house we lived in, the car we drove, the clothes we wore, the purse we carried, the kitchen accessory we just had to have? Who's going to want our extra butter knives, extra t.v.'s, extra shoes, extra stuff? I'm not asking us to give all of those things away right now, but maybe it wouldn't hurt if we tried to see them for what they are. Just things. Just excess. And maybe it wouldn't hurt to be thankful that we have the ability to be excessive and the ability to change it.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
[. . .]
Sometimes I think God allows us to go through rough times so that we can share the wisdom and experience gained from it with others in similar situations. I mean, if learning from our mistakes can prevent or curb someone else's in the future then I think they're worth it.
But what about the times when you don't have any wisdom, experience or advice? What about the times when you want so desperately to change things or alleviate hurt that you can't? What about the times when even prayer sounds like a false advertisement? It's not working. There's no change. It's actually spiraling downward God, and so many hearts are going down with it.
I think helplessness is the worst feeling in the world, too. It's awful to see someone else's pain and know you can't help ease it. To watch someone hurt so bad and know that prayer is all you have. I like to feel useful. I like to have bits of encouragement and wisdom to share. I like to discover solutions, be helpful, see change.
And in the midst of feeling this way I'm convicted. Because maybe helplessness is actually what it's all about anyway. Maybe just the realization that we have no control and never really did to begin with is the lesson to be learned, and maybe it's just another way of striking down my pride in my sorry attempt to "fix" situations, people, problems, hearts and lives when only God can do that. It's just hard to accept that for an answer while hearts continue to break. But I think that's what trust is all about anyway, and to have trust you have to have faith.
Faith. Trust. Faith. Trust. They seem to go hand in hand, and I've heard them all my life. When I actually have to apply them to real-life situations, however, they take on a new meaning, and I find out where my trust and faith are really at. It's like running hills you know. You think you're in shape until you hit the hills, and then you find out pretty quick as reality hits. Either you are or you aren't, but you don't know until you are tested.
And if our purpose on earth is to have a trusting relationship with the God who created us, then maybe a few hills are needed to get back to that basic. Maybe they're a chance to see if I can practice what I preach, and maybe they're an opportunity to, once again, surrender my need to have all the wisdom for others as I learn to give things up to the only One who does.
But what about the times when you don't have any wisdom, experience or advice? What about the times when you want so desperately to change things or alleviate hurt that you can't? What about the times when even prayer sounds like a false advertisement? It's not working. There's no change. It's actually spiraling downward God, and so many hearts are going down with it.
I think helplessness is the worst feeling in the world, too. It's awful to see someone else's pain and know you can't help ease it. To watch someone hurt so bad and know that prayer is all you have. I like to feel useful. I like to have bits of encouragement and wisdom to share. I like to discover solutions, be helpful, see change.
And in the midst of feeling this way I'm convicted. Because maybe helplessness is actually what it's all about anyway. Maybe just the realization that we have no control and never really did to begin with is the lesson to be learned, and maybe it's just another way of striking down my pride in my sorry attempt to "fix" situations, people, problems, hearts and lives when only God can do that. It's just hard to accept that for an answer while hearts continue to break. But I think that's what trust is all about anyway, and to have trust you have to have faith.
Faith. Trust. Faith. Trust. They seem to go hand in hand, and I've heard them all my life. When I actually have to apply them to real-life situations, however, they take on a new meaning, and I find out where my trust and faith are really at. It's like running hills you know. You think you're in shape until you hit the hills, and then you find out pretty quick as reality hits. Either you are or you aren't, but you don't know until you are tested.
And if our purpose on earth is to have a trusting relationship with the God who created us, then maybe a few hills are needed to get back to that basic. Maybe they're a chance to see if I can practice what I preach, and maybe they're an opportunity to, once again, surrender my need to have all the wisdom for others as I learn to give things up to the only One who does.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
[the little things]
I think it's human nature to be constantly in search of the secret to happiness. There's a movie about the pursuit. There are books and volumes of "how tos". There are other blogs, other ideas, other approaches.
But I've never believed that happiness arrives at your doorstep one day asking to come in. Instead, it's a daily choice to remember that this life is a beautiful thing. It's all the small moments, simple miracles and daily blessings. And it's savoring the little things that make you laugh, make you cry, make you wonder, make you smile, make you think and make you dream.
Like learning how to strategically ride a bike without brakes. My advice from numerous attempts the past four days - avoid serious downhills and weave from side to side like skiing if you get going too fast...ditching the sidewalk to ride on the grass helps a lot too.
Or digging out my counselor DVD from camp three summers ago the other day and reflecting on all of the great memories, jokes, people, games, fun times and lessons learned.
It's having a seven-year old sing "Jesus Loves Me" out of the blue and then give you homework. She insisted I take "Five Little Monkeys Jumping On A Bed" home to read for our tutoring session next week.
It's listening to a new friend's story and being reminded once again that this life is not about me and all of my noble intentions.
It's watching the pink-orange sun wake up the world on the drive to Des Moines for practicum on Tuesday.
It's getting my support letters for a summer mission trip printed for free.
It's walking home barefoot on an 80-degree April day. Partly because of blisters on my toes from my sandels that have not been worn in much too long. Partly because I finally can, and partly because I love the feel of my bare feet on the grass.
It's the gorgeous weather, warm breeze and beautiful sunshine.
It's laughing as you watch college students play four-square in your parking lot with legit chalk lines.
It's sitting outside on a warm night enjoying a glass of wonderful Italian Moscato with my roommates and realizing some of them don't have too many college days left.
It's getting strict instructions not to feed hamburger to my new venus fly trap.
It's making and eating supper with all but one sibling Tuesday night.
It's finding a new artist who seems to know exactly what I need to hear in every song - thank you John Waller.
It's falling into old traps only to be drawn right back to God the next morning through the Word.
It's finding another wonderful quote - "No matter how widely you have traveled, you haven't seen the world if you have failed to look into the human hearts that inhabit it." [donald c. peattie]
And it's knowing that Easter is on it's way in all of its glory and promise of the life to come. Because that's where joy is found. I think happiness and contentment are often dependent on circumstances, but joy is eternal and it's not found in only the high points of life. It's a kind of peace that pervades all circumstances and is only found in the Lord who makes this life beautiful and the next one possible. Not to us Lord, not to us, but to you (Psalm 115:1)
But I've never believed that happiness arrives at your doorstep one day asking to come in. Instead, it's a daily choice to remember that this life is a beautiful thing. It's all the small moments, simple miracles and daily blessings. And it's savoring the little things that make you laugh, make you cry, make you wonder, make you smile, make you think and make you dream.
Like learning how to strategically ride a bike without brakes. My advice from numerous attempts the past four days - avoid serious downhills and weave from side to side like skiing if you get going too fast...ditching the sidewalk to ride on the grass helps a lot too.
Or digging out my counselor DVD from camp three summers ago the other day and reflecting on all of the great memories, jokes, people, games, fun times and lessons learned.
It's having a seven-year old sing "Jesus Loves Me" out of the blue and then give you homework. She insisted I take "Five Little Monkeys Jumping On A Bed" home to read for our tutoring session next week.
It's listening to a new friend's story and being reminded once again that this life is not about me and all of my noble intentions.
It's watching the pink-orange sun wake up the world on the drive to Des Moines for practicum on Tuesday.
It's getting my support letters for a summer mission trip printed for free.
It's walking home barefoot on an 80-degree April day. Partly because of blisters on my toes from my sandels that have not been worn in much too long. Partly because I finally can, and partly because I love the feel of my bare feet on the grass.
It's the gorgeous weather, warm breeze and beautiful sunshine.
It's laughing as you watch college students play four-square in your parking lot with legit chalk lines.
It's sitting outside on a warm night enjoying a glass of wonderful Italian Moscato with my roommates and realizing some of them don't have too many college days left.
It's getting strict instructions not to feed hamburger to my new venus fly trap.
It's making and eating supper with all but one sibling Tuesday night.
It's finding a new artist who seems to know exactly what I need to hear in every song - thank you John Waller.
It's falling into old traps only to be drawn right back to God the next morning through the Word.
It's finding another wonderful quote - "No matter how widely you have traveled, you haven't seen the world if you have failed to look into the human hearts that inhabit it." [donald c. peattie]
And it's knowing that Easter is on it's way in all of its glory and promise of the life to come. Because that's where joy is found. I think happiness and contentment are often dependent on circumstances, but joy is eternal and it's not found in only the high points of life. It's a kind of peace that pervades all circumstances and is only found in the Lord who makes this life beautiful and the next one possible. Not to us Lord, not to us, but to you (Psalm 115:1)
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