|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.
--C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
| | |
| C got admitted to the hospital yesterday after a bike accident -- 7 of us drove frantically to Western Medical to find her. They wouldn't let us in the first time around -- according to hospital policy, we are not immediate family. The security guard was really sweet though, and very encouraging. He kept saying sorry and asking us about the situation to see if he could help. He and I agreed that all we can do is have some faith and "give up a little prayer." He seemed so lonely, definitely a talker. He kept right on talking even when none of us seemed to be paying attention. When we came back to the hospital the second time, I wanted to say hi to him, but his shift was already over.
The clerk let us know that C was stable, but was in the middle of getting a scan and didn't have a room yet -- ergo we could not see her. We prayed for her and left a little dejected...
until we found out that 2 of her other friends were able to get in. So we headed back, and after some skirting past normal hospital policy, we got in to see her. J had some harsh words with the clerk for not telling us that we could just wait half an hour for C to get a room and we could visit. His words were so...unnecessary. The first sentence was enough, and the rest of the tirade was...well, it was a tirade. I wanted to stop him, I had this urge to tell him to stop mid-sentence, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I don't know why. I've been thinking about accountability for the past month, yet I could not bring myself to stop the damage. I hope God will give me another opportunity to speak to J about it. His words with her were not something to laugh about (as he did later) and they were not necessary to convey what needed to be conveyed. P and I were both unhappy with his approach. God, give me the strength to be a good and loving sister, to approach him in appropriateness and loving words. This is what being on Core is really about. And if I can't start doing this now, I don't think I'll be stepping onto the road that He wants me to walk anytime soon.
On a better note, C got discharged and is back in the apartment with us now. The poor girl has to stay out of the sun for two weeks so that her scars will be minimal. Her attitude is something that encourages and inspires me to quit being a whiner -- she doesn't even seem all that shaken up, even though she landed on the left side of her face, pretty much. But we look at how God provided a random person to be at the exact location she was at even at 1:00 AM, and how He continues to fill her with joy despite all the sacrifices she has to make -- physically, emotionally, and financially. I hope this is what she needs to feel connected to Him again. | | |
| So in my ignorance and haste, I put up an advertisement for somebody to sublet my apartment for both sessions during the summer. First person that took the offer ended up flaking out on me...last week. So I put up a second ad. I got an offer for the first session only, and I said yes. Then, I got a second offer to take both. So I went back and said sorry to the first person and nothing to the second person yet. Only then do I think to check VDC's site to find my official move-out date from VDC and find that there are regulations for subletting. Stupid of me not to think of that. And the regulations...are ridiculous. I can only sublet to another undergrad. I can only sublet for one academic term, and each summer session counts as a term. So I have discovered that not only can I only sublet to an undergraduate (which surprisingly, puts quite a limit on the chances of getting my apartment subleased seeing as half the offers I've gotten are from graduating undergrad seniors), I can only sublet for one summer session. I can't afford to pay double rent, what do I do now????!!!!!! | | |
| I'm giving my testimony at large group today, so I thought I'd get my thoughts organized here first!
I find myself in a really odd place when I try to categorize myself in references to my exposure to Christianity throughout my childhood. Did I grow up in the church? Did I grow up in a Christian household? I don't know...
My father was baptized in his early years in the States, and my family attended church until I was about 7. That was when Mom got tired of socializing on Sundays, and my dad is very devoted to Mom. That was the end of church. I don't remember much from ACBC, which I guess is why I'm hesitant to say I grew up in the church. I remember they were the only days my Mom could get a frilly dress on me ("all the girls wear dresses! You have to wear it too.") and the only thing I remember from Sunday school was coloring and finishing connect-the-dots-pictures. If I have any early memories or knowledge of Bible stories and songs, it came from the Christian private school that my parents had me attend until 2nd grade. I had the KJV Bible, I got the stickers that you paste in the covers for doing well in class, I made up sounds to the songs we sang when I didn't know the words (C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N? What child really knows what they're saying or spelling when they sing that song?! I didn't figure it out until high school), and I memorized the verses. But by 3rd grade I was moved to a new public academy and that was the end of any Christian influence I had for 7 years. Not to say that I questioned God's existence, but more so that I just didn't care if He existed or not. Until I was about 14. It was the beginning of my freshman year in high school, and the previous summer I had somehow acquired a lot of religious friends. This was a hugely pivotal time for me. It's high school! Every Friday night my friends and I would go watch the football games. Or if we didn't feel like doing that, we'd all just hang out and catch a movie. Youth group? What the heck was that? Why did I suddenly have all these friends going to Youth? Why would you skip out on the football games?!! And so I decided to try it out. See what was so great about church. It'd also been 7 years since I'd thought about church, and I thought I would give it a shot. Mom couldn't force me into frilly dresses anymore, and I figured I was slightly smarter than I was at age 7 so I could get a better grasp at what happens at church. I asked a friend of a friend that I knew was Christian that I talked to occasionally, and she directed me to this small church that "wasn't so cliquy and the people are nicer" in short, FCBC, a church that was also only 5 minutes away from me. I didn't think about it at the time, and none of us really understood why I suddenly decided to try church. Looking back now it was the most direct call I have ever received from God, so well-placed in time and the people around me. I did some more research, realized I knew some people at FCBC, so I gave them a heads up that I was coming. They seemed pretty confused too. In the beginning my attendance was pretty spotty, but God really used an older sister to draw me -- her name was Emily. She was continually pursuing me, asking after me, trying to get to know me. Whenever I skipped a week, she was the one that always noticed and invited me back again. She talked like she really had a relationship with God. She was really one of those people that highlighted, underlined, and literally almost destroyed her Bible because there was so much ink on the pages. She truly had a heart for Him, and she was the first real Christian I had ever met. Through her, God got me to start attending regularly and even trying Sunday morning sermons, even though I fell asleep or zoned out in every single one of them for the first 3 months or so of going. Things were going pretty smooth, and everybody was happy. Church kept me out of trouble, and I got free food on Sundays. If you want to put a narrower scope on it, I guess you could say I accepted Christ as my savior sometime during my sophomore year. Or at least, that's when I realized that I believed in all this Jesus stuff. I didn't really get shaken up until my senior year of high school. Right before my senior year began, I went through a pretty devastating break-up. I didn't know who I could turn to, because I'd alienated so many of my high school friends to be closer to my church friends. Who were even closer to my now-ex boyfriend. My family is not Christian, not even my dad anymore. They couldn't give me anything to hold on to -- they believe in this New Age-y stuff that involves reincarnation and some sort of heaven where you never get to meet God and your soul is still attached to earth...I don't see any hope in it. But anyways, so I turned to God. That was the first time I realized what His comfort felt like, and the first time I began to acknowledge my personal relationship with Him as more important than any other relationship I could have because they were all so fleeting -- but He was permanent. He made things okay. He reminded me of His love through Christ, constantly. That was also the year that He really just lit a fire in a lot of my friends' hearts for Him. A lot of us began pursuing Him seriously that year, and I kind of jumped on the bandwagon. Some of us led the movement, some of us got dragged along, but we all tried to grow together and it was one of the most amazing summers of my life. I came into college with so much conviction in my heart of God's existence and His power. After senior year, I have never doubted His greatness and His sovereignty. He has shown me over and over His grace and His mercy. You know, looking back, He really protected me. I will never understand why He chose to save me. The group of friends I had before I started going to church, most of them became potheads. One got put under house arrest for continual possession of illegal substances, another went to rehab and lived in a halfway house for a year. I could have easily been right there alongside them, going to the parties one of my friends always put on almost every weekend and getting wasted, smoking pot, trying salvia. (Some of them are doing much better now, and I get to hear from them every now and then. It renews my resolve to stay a part of their lives.) But in His grace, He saved me and protected me from having to go through all of that. I don't think I'll ever understand why me. But I'm never going to forget what He did when He did, and how He has always been there for me. God is so good, He is almighty and He is awesome and beautiful and amazing in all the ways that He works. | | |
| We watched a video in Urban Sociology today, all about the culture of poverty and the people stuck in the system, just barely getting by. My heart breaks for these people who try and try but the system fools them; every inch they step forward, the system pushes them back three feet. So many of them have no more hope for a better life. Every Tuesday night I sit in this class and I reassess my decision, "do I really want to go into social work?" I don't know. I no longer know if social work really does anything now, and I wonder if this is just how the world is -- broken and hateful and blind. We discussed so many factors and ways to fix the problem of poverty: more education? A revamp of the social services system? Universal health care? Increased job hunting? Increased minimum wage? Pouring money not directly into the social service institutions but rather straight into the poor's pockets? Each idea was shot down by another student. One student finally pointed out, "I think it's a problem of society, of the human race." So how do we go about changing human nature? What force could possibly be strong enough to do that? It seems to me that God is the only one big enough to solve poverty. Poverty is not a problem for the government to take care of -- poverty is a problem for us to take care of. It is a problem that God has called us to take care of, to take care of those who are unable to take care of themselves (James 1:27). The only cure for poverty that I can see is compassion and generosity. So many of us have more than we need already. We can always give more.
"in a great ordeal of affliction their abundance of joy and their deep poverty overflowed in the wealth of their liberality. For I testify that according to their ability, and beyond their ability, they gave of their own accord...and this, not as we had expected, but they first gave themselves to the Lord and to us by the will of God." -- 2 Corinthians 8:2-5
"And He sat down opposite the treasury, and began observing how the people were putting money into the treasury; and many rich people were putting in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which amounted to a cent. Calling His discples to Him, He said to them, "Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the contributors to the treasury; for they all put in out of their surplus, but she, out of her poverty, put in all she owned, all she had to live on." -- Mark 12:41-44
I should start going back to the Row again. | | |
|
