Categories Everyday Life, Faith

Redemption

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I came perilously close to losing my scholarships this semester. Gradewise, there was no way I wasn’t supposed to get a C- in Physiology, requiring me to take it again and putting my GPA at something like 3.4978. I was bracing myself for the worst, expecting to lose my scholarship–have to work my way through school, reevaluate how to handle things. I was kicking myself for being so cocky at the beginning of the semester–“Sure it’s going to be tough taking Chemistry, Anatomy, and Physiology all in the same semester. But I can handle it.” Just barely.

So when I looked at my grades and discovered that I’d gotten a C in Physiology instead of a C-, I felt like the world had been handed me on a platter. I hadn’t lost my scholarships. I would have a chance
to redeem myself. That vein of thought continued for a while–I started to contemplate the concept of redemption.

I don’t think I’ve really valued redemption in my life as much as I should. I’ve known Christ since I was four years old. I’ve been a generally good kid. I’ve never done anything illegal or committed any
of those uncomfortably visible moral errors. I’ve always had good grades, despite having substandard study habits. I’ve always had a nice little life–why should I need redemption?

Of course, this thought is incorrect. I do need redemption–desperately. But I saw that in a new way when I saw that I had received a C in that class. The first words out of my mouth were, “Awesome, now I have a chance to redeem myself.” You see, I didn’t deserve a C in that class–by my own cockiness and lack of devotion to studying, I deserved to lose my scholarship. But, by the grace of God, I didn’t get what I deserved. I received better. Now, I have a chance to redeem myself–to prove that I have a right to the scholarship I received.

Just like I received my scholarships on the basis of merit that I didn’t necessarily have–unless being born “smart” counts as merit–any life that I have received is granted to me apart from my own merit. God
granted me life, not because I deserved it in any way. He just chose to give it to me. But I did not treat that life with respect. I used it for sin and sold my life in slavery to sin; just like I came within an
inch of losing my scholarship because of my own lack of dedication to my studies.

The difference between my scholarships and my life overall rests in this–I have received grace so that I might redeem myself in regard to my studies; I have received grace despite having no ability to redeem myself in regard to slavery to sin. I can learn to study and devote more time to studying to improve my grades–I can’t
do anything to solve my sin problem.

But the amazing thing about God is that what I was powerless to do, Christ did. “For when we were still without strength, in due time, Christ died for the ungodly.” (Romans 5:6) I was completely powerless to redeem myself from sin–but Christ in His mercy took on flesh to become my kinsman redeemer. “But when the fullness of the
time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons.” (Galatians 4:4-5)

Week in the Word was incredible. The time we spent in Ruth only served to confirm this concept of redemption. The story of Ruth models redemption in so many ways–outlining for us the role of a kinsman-redeemer. Perhaps the first qualification for a kinsman-redeemer is that the person be a kinsman. Boaz was Ruth’s kinsman
through his familial relationship with Elimelech (Ruth’s father in law). Christ became our kinsman by taking on human flesh. As Boaz agreed to redeem Ruth when she requested that he spread the corner of his garment over her, Christ chooses to redeem us when we come to Him for redemption. Just as the redemption of Ruth was part of the grand story of God’s agenda to bring glory to Himself by redeeming a people, our redemption is also part of the grander story. We are redeemed to bear fruit–“You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit, and that your fruit should remain.” (John 15:16)

Redemption is a grand story that shows the lovingkindness of our Saviour. We were incapable of redeeming ourselves from the slavery into which we sold ourselves. So, Christ in His mercy took on flesh to become our kinsman. As our kinsman, He redeemed us. Now as our husband, He bears fruit in us–fruit that ultimately leads back to the glorification of God and the advancement of His program to redeem for Himself people from every nation.

Categories Faith

On Stewardship

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“Then he who had received the one talent came and said, ‘Lord, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you have not sown, and gathering where you have not scattered seed. And I was afraid, and
went and hid your talent in the ground. Look, there you have what is yours.’ But his lord answered and said to him, ‘You wicked and lazy servant, you knew that I reap where I have not sown, and gather where I have not scattered seed. So you ought to have deposited my money with the bankers, and at my coming I would have received back my own with interest. Therefore take the talent from him, and give it to him who has ten talents.” (Matthew 25:24-28)

“And at midnight a cry was heard: ‘Behold, the bridegroom is coming; go out to meet him!’ Then all those virgins arose and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your
oil for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise answered, saying, “No, lest there should not be enough for us and you; but rather go to those who sell, and buy for yourselves.’ And while they went to buy,
the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the wedding; and the door was shut.” (Matthew 25:6-10)

Different stewards–one was the keeper of a talent,the others keepers of the lamp. Two different scenarios–one out of fear mishandled his talent, the others out of laziness mishandled their oil. But the result is the same. When the master returned to take his due–in the case of talents, the interest; in the case of the virgins, his bride–When the master returned, the foolish stewards were left without. They had been poor stewards of what they were given and they would bear the punishment.

I don’t think I really recognized what stewardship meant until it bit me in the face a couple of days ago. Stewardship means that what I have been given, I have been given in trust. I have a responsibility to use it in the way for which it was given me. When I am given a scholarship to go to school, I have a responsibility to use that money to pay for school. When I am given charge over a ministry, I have a responsibility to lead that ministry in the best way possible. When I am elected to a position, I have a responsibility to fulfill the promises I made. Every privilege is a trust. And all too often, I have broken that trust.

I am ashamed, I am overwhelmed. I have broken my promises, misused the gifts I have received, taken advantage of privileges. I have said that I was rich–I am intelligent, I have enough money, I can do it on my own. So proud of myself, so consumed by my own self worth, I sat back and did nothing. And I did not see that I am “wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked.” (Revelation 3:17)

But there is hope for me, however pitiful I may be. Revelation 3 continues: “I counsel you to buy from Me gold refined in the fire, that you may be rich; and white garments, that you may be clothed, that the shame of your nakedness may not be revealed; and anoint your eyes with eye salve, that you may see.” I must come to see myself
as worthless, pitiful, broken, and blind. And instead of clinging to self for my worth, I must cling to Christ–recognizing that He is the only one who can clothe my nakedness, open my eyes, give me anything worth having.

And while the virgins of Matthew 25 were shut out, Revelation 3 offers another fate: “As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten. Therefore be zealous and repent. Behold I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.” By His grace and that alone, I am welcomed to the wedding feast. And unlike the steward of Matthew 25 who was cast into the lake of everlasting fire,
Christ offers another eternity: “To him who overcomes I will grant to sit with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat down with My father on His throne.”

Categories Faith, Reflections

Made great by each other

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I’m a woman. I love stories of strong women, of brave women, of women who made a difference, of women who achieved some level of fame. Occasionally, the question enters my head–Would any of
these women have reached the status they have if it weren’t for their husbands? Maybe they just married into fame. Their marriage made the difference.

Now, before you get scared that my espoused feminism has gone down the drain, let me describe a few truths that I have come to when thinking about this question.

After God made Eve from Adam’s rib in the Garden of Eden, Adam woke up. Just as he had named every other living creature, he now named Eve–“She shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.” (Genesis 2:23) There is no doubt in my mind about the implications of this Scripture. No woman can claim that she does not need man. No, in the beginning, we were named by a man–called
Woman, because we came from man. We cannot forget our origins. In the same way, man can never claim that he does not need woman. He must remember our origins. “And the Lord God said, ‘It is not good that man should be alone; I will make him a helper comparable to him.'” (Genesis 2:18) God saw that man was incomplete, lacking a helper. And so God made a helper–not the same as him but comparable to him, his partner but not his head.

A woman I have admired for years, studying her life and yearning for her influence, is the Proverbs 31 woman. But listen to what the Bible says about her and her husband. “The heart of her husband safely trusts her; so he will have no lack of gain. She does him good and not evil all the days of her life.” (Proverbs 31:11-12) And again: “Her husband is known in the gates, when he sits among the elders of the land.” (Proverbs 31:23) This woman is not great because of her husband–not to say that her husband isn’t great. Instead, these verses seem to say that her husband is great, at least in part, because she is trustworthy and she does good. “They” say that behind every good man is a great woman–and I have little doubt. The Proverbs 31 woman by her actions and words has made her husband great and respected. I find it almost ironic to read the last few verses: “Her children rise up and call her blessed; Her husband also and he praises her: ‘Many daughters have done
well, but you excel them all.’ Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her
in the gates.” (Proverbs 31:28-31) This woman who by her deeds has paved the way for her husband to have a place in the city gates, now is praised in the city gates by her husband. “Let her own
works praise her in the gates.

Great men and great women, they go together hand in hand. Which one creates the other I cannot say. But I must say that the greatness of a great woman brings her husband honor, and the greatness of a great man gives his wife praise. That’s the way God made it.

Categories Faith, Reflections

The beauty of the church

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I know, I know. I didn’t actually post this on the 20th. But I wrote it then with the intention of posting it. That’s got to count for something.

Walking through campus today, I saw two young boys following their dad, looking about with amazement at the wonders of a college campus. I was struck by the amazing way God put this world together.

A college campus is a fun place to be. Students walking about, milling, talking. Parties and concerts and benefit bashes. Gatherings, projects, classes. But the college campus isn’t complete. It’s too homogeneous to be so.

The majority of college students are single, childless people in their late teens or early twenties. There is very little variation. It’s understandable that a college campus should be so; but if
college is the extent of your relationships and involvement, you are missing out.

I think the same thing when I visit nursing homes. There’s something missing here. It’s too homogeneous. Yes, there are younger workers in addition to the older residents, but just like professors and students on a university campus, they are separated. They belong to different classes, different positions, and very few meaningful relationships are formed across these barriers.

This is one of the reasons that I so love the church. Church is a family affair. It encompasses a wide variety of ages and roles. Everyone has their “position” but this does not limit their relationships.
Elders hang out with those who clean the church building, teachers with pray-ers. Young children relate to retired members and young adults to 40 somethings.

Go onto any college campus and observe the modes of teaching and learning–lectures, projects, papers, reading, discussion. But the teaching method most universities lack is relationship. Life on life.
Discipleship. This is a great strength of the church. Walk into any nursing home and you will see a variety of ways the nurses and service staff help their patients. But the serving method many nursing homes lack is relationship. Life on life. Iron sharpens iron. Listening and encouraging. Serving out of relationship. This is a great strength of the church.

You see, friendships within the college campus are good. There’s nothing wrong with having relationships with people who are the same as you–going through the same life experiences. But if your only relationships are with a group of people homogeneous with yourself, you miss something powerful.

If you aren’t already connected with a local church, I encourage you to do so. And don’t just get involved with their college groups–get to know the families: children and parents; introduce yourself to the young couples; become friends with those who are “older and wiser.” Take the opportunity to experience the power of the church through relationship.

Categories Faith

Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat in sempiterna saecula

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I realize I’ve already written today. Forgive me.

I have just had one of the most deeply religious moments of my life. Some may speak of goosebumps and shivers–I had all that and more, when a chorus of over 200 voices joined with a full orchestra to sing forth “Christ conquers, Christ rules, Christ commands all eternity.” Amen and amen.

I cannot get it out of my head. Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat in sempiterna saecula. Again and again and again. Christ conquers, Christ rules, Christ commands all eternity. Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat in sempiterna saecula.
Christ conquers, Christ rules, Christ commands all eternity.

Majestic Lord and only Saviour, You who conquered death and the grave, rule my heart, command my destiny, and come quickly Lord Jesus!

Categories Reflections

Heroes

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Despite all its obvious defects, Perfect Princess did get me thinking. What are the things that I use in defining my heroes? Why do I consider some people worth emulating and others not?

Sometimes I fear that my heroes and role models are based more on a fascination with greatness than anything else. When I look back over the course of history, what makes me admire the people I admire? I have long been interested in First Ladies–my favorites are Abigail Adams, Jacqueline Kennedy, and Laura Bush. Yet they couldn’t be more different, could they? I love Abigail Adams for her deep devotion to her husband, their beautiful correspondence. I love her for how she managed her family’s estate in her husband’s absence, how she begged her husband to remember the ladies, how she encouraged her nephew in his education. I love Jacqueline Kennedy for her PR, her ability to make everything look perfect. I envy her ability to make people love her, her innate sense of how to be different, to be beautiful, to be fashionable. I love her for her public life, and the privacy she clung to. I love Laura Bush for her gentleness, her deep care for what she really cares about–the children. I love her for being a good wife to President Bush, for caring for him, for their daughters, for the nation. I love her for taking delight in cloroxing bookcases, her love for reading, her personal decision to take the path of traditional womanhood. I love her for not lobbying, choosing instead to earn respect.

The great heroes of my reading life are so varied, I wonder if they can meet up. Since I first read Emily Dickensen in sixth grade, I have been infatuated with her grasp of poetry. I want to someday see with such keen sight. Walt Whitman, I adore for changing the face of poetry in the nineteenth century. I admire him for his brilliance, yet I sorrow at his lostness.

Book characters also have their role on my list of heroes. Elizabeth Bennet of Pride and Prejudice has always been a favorite. She had a scathing tongue, a ready wit, and the ability to laugh at everything. I love Sara from A Little Princess because she insisted on being a “beautiful person” whatever her circumstances–something I fail miserably at. Sam in The Lord of the Rings encourages me with his faithfulness as a friend.

Bible Characters? Priscilla is a favorite. We don’t know much about her except that she and her husband Aquilla worked together tentmaking with Paul. They brought Apollo under their wing when he was teaching false doctrine. They are regarded as fellow workers with Paul.

Enter into the current world, my real world, and again, the people vary widely. Malinda Hinrichs, a woman from my church, is skilled in just about everything–she paints, she does calligraphy, she bakes, she gardens, she quilts, she travels the world on mission trips, she’s learning to play the piano by chords–despite being over 65. Cindy Slocum, our church’s women’s ministry director, is wonderful at making things beautiful–tea sandwiches, a table setting, a bathroom cabinet. She is also one of the most amazing prayer warriors I know. Paula Welter, who disciples me, is marvelous. Two years in a row, she welcomed 3-4 College students into her home. She’s down to earth, not fussy–but she is welcoming and always encourages me in my walk. Barb Calcara always has somebody visiting–missionaries for the missions conference, college students on break, friends of her daughters’ (even though the daughters aren’t there), a family from the mission that her husband brought home. She welcomes people eagerly into her home, truly seeing it as an opportunity to serve God. The LCPC ladies with their fancy outfits and time to serve drive me nuts. How I wish I could be them–classy, friendly, laughing and serving.

And then there’s my most recent hero-crush. Condoleeza Rice is amazing. She is easily the most powerful woman in our nation–but no one deserves it more than she. Excelling in everything she does, fighting for her rights from early on. Concert pianist. Expert on Soviet Union Politics. Graduated with honors. Provost of Stanford for six years. This woman is astounding. I hated when the media jumped over her boots in Germany. They were trying to reduce her to Madelyn Albright’s level. But she doesn’t even fit into that sphere. Condoleeza Rice is a capable, intelligent, amazing woman. I love her.

As you can see, I have quite a few heroes (and these are just a few–mostly just the female ones.) But is there a common thread in my chain of heroes? I don’t know. And perhaps it doesn’t matter.

Categories Reflections

On Book Reports and Learningbo

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Why do they make kids write book reports? I had to write at least one a year for the first six to eight years of my academic life–and I’ve never written one since. They’re useless, pointless, an exercise devised by sadistic teachers trying to impose petty rules on defenseless children, stifling their creativity. Or is that what book reports are all about?

On further reflection, I can see some good in book reports. They forced me to read–a skill that serves me well now, both at school and in leisure. They gave me practice with grammar and spelling and sentence formation–skills I use every day while writing notes, e-mails, and letters. And, those book reports tried to teach me the concept of a short summary, and not giving away the end of the story–skills I appreciate the most when someone who doesn’t have them tries to recommend a movie.

The seemingly pointless book report apparently does have a point–not in and of itself, but as a tool to develop students as people.

There are a lot of things in life that I think of as pointless–many of my classes, group projects, certain deadlines. But perhaps, like my book reports as a child, these too have their purpose. I am learning promptness, patience, “interpersonal skills”, communication skills,
problem solving skills.

I begin to think that the subject matter might be the least important part of the college experience. Intrinsically, it has little value–unless, of course, the “real world” is consumed by equations without applications, five minute PowerPoint presentations, and interviewing your grandparents to learn about your food heritage. Rather than those things, the skills that college teaches are not taught in a classroom–at least not by being lectured in the classroom. Instead the skills that college teaches are the skills that can only come through trials.

“Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” (Romans 5:3-4)

Speaking of Book Reports–check out my “Book Reviews and Notes” section

Categories Poetry

It ends at Your feet

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A million things to do
My heart races–
And stops
My brain is filled
With a thousand questions
Too many processes–
Shut down.
Running all the time
Up against a wall
Weights on my back–
I collapse.
It ends at Your feet
On my knees
Not a thought in my head
Not a beat in my heart
No strength to move
It ends at Your feet
And You’re more than enough

Categories Faith

A Great Invitation

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Matthew 22:5 “But they made light of it and went their own ways, one to his own farm, another to his business.”

The king arranged a wedding for his son. He sought for someone to celebrate with him. He sent his servants to issue an invitation to all he esteemed. “Come, I’ve prepared the feast, I’ve readied the entertainment. Come, enjoy the wedding of my son.” But those he had invited, busy with their farms, their businesses-her hall, her church work, her hobbies-didn’t recognize the invitation for what it was.

Given the choice of going to the White House to be President Bush’s honored guest or of sitting around my room all day–I’d choose the White House hands down. Given the opportunity to go on a trip to just visit the White House on a tour and maybe catch a glimpse of the President–I’d jump at the chance. But the King of the Universe invites me to THE event of the ages–the unfolding of His romance with mankind–and suddenly sleep and facebook and eating and ideas become more important.

Where in the midst of my daily walk did I lose that excitement-that spark of recognition that reveres God? When did I stop standing in awe of Him? When did I start seeing myself as an equal–as though I could just enter His presence on a whim despite having earlier refused His summons?

Don’t get me wrong–I am not denying the grace and the forgiveness of God–but when did I stop believing in His greatness and His holiness? When did I stop standing in awe of the simple fact that the King of the Universe has invited me to be a participant in His grandest love story?

Categories Faith, Reflections

Standing on the edge of a cliff

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Have you ever felt like you were teetering on the brink of something huge? I know that’s a cliched expression, but it describes what I’m feeling well.

I’m standing at the edge of a cliff. I can feel the wind blowing against me–my hair is flying, my skirt pasted to my legs. I reach my foot forward just an inch and I can feel the sand move beneath my touch. When I listen closely, I can hear the sand rattling down the cliffside. If I take one more step, I will jump off the cliff. There will be no return. If I stand still, erosion will take me down the side within hours. I can’t move backwards, there’s nowhere else to go. I must move forward or remain still–either way, my future is uncertain. I am blindfolded. I can sense the change that is taking place, but I can’t see. I don’t know what lies at the bottom of the great avalanche I will soon find myself within. Then a bird twitters and I know for certain–whatever else may lie at the bottom, life is there–and I am at rest.

My church’s pastor resigned publicly this Sunday. He will remain as Senior Pastor until the end of the year, but that entire time will be one of great transition for our church. So much is unknown–who our next senior pastor will be, what that will mean to the congregation; how various ministries will change, where God will take us in fulfilling His vision. I’m a ministry leader–coordinating the Nursery. I’m a youth sponsor–how will this effect them in the long run? It’s too early to know, but I sense that the impact will be great. So much change, what will it all mean? I only know one thing–that He who began a good work in us will be faithful to complete it.

God’s been convicting me a lot lately about my priorities. We did an exercise in Home Group on Sunday–compared our listed “priorities” to the time we actually spend pursuing those things. Our topic was the cost of discipleship. The cost of discipleship has been slowly taking on a new meaning for me. What is to be my priority? God’s glory. What does that mean? For right now, spending time in the Word, putting priority on my schoolwork, letting some priority shift from church work to Nav fellowship.

My sister will be moving home next year–I’ll be on my own at the hall next year. I’m a bit apprehensive. I’ve spent the last 20 years of my life sharing almost everything with Anna. We were roommates for 17 years–even now, with my own room in the hall, Anna and I visit in my room several times a day. She’s my best friend. We read in the crack of the door together when we were in second and third grades. A year later we thought we would trade homework for the day. The envelope I drew on a piece of paper didn’t quite satisfy the instructions to “address an envelope” to such and such a person. As we grew, the distance between us shrunk and we took Chemistry together in high school. Our majors are similar, despite our differing career goals. We’re even taking Anatomy together this semester. But God is preparing me for whatever He has for me–
and He’s preparing Anna for the next step in her dream of doing humanitarian aid. She’ll graduate next year and leave for Med School. She’s frantic with tests and thoughts of applications. And every change for her means change for me.

These three things are but a sampling of the cliff I’m standing on. Learning to be content with resting is tough for me. Resting in the midst of this turmoil is almost impossible. But I want my cry to be like Paul’s when he said: “But what things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ. Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord…that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness, which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith; that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death.” Whatever the change, He is the bird whistling in my ear: “I will never leave you or forsake you. I have good plans for you. Enter into the adventure I have in store for you.”