Every other weekend, I would stay with my dad and step-mom. They married when I was five. Sis and I were in the wedding. I liked my step-mom but she scared me, too. I was afraid of doing something wrong, which was easy as there were four sets of rules to follow (my mom’s, my dad’s, Lee’s and Christine’s) and I didn’t want to follow any. The rules were all different, too. My parents were much more relaxed than the “steps.” Still, Christine was a great influence in my life. She built my pride in being a woman: she was a feminist, liberal and a catholic.
Christine attended St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church. It was completely different from the Methodist church in Charlotte. An enormous room with a ceiling that felt a mile high made the church an intimidating yet beautiful place. It hosted 1,000 people weekly. Their minister was called a priest but he had a small posse following him around as if he were Jesus. Beautiful robes, beautiful stained glass windows, beautiful pews…and right in the center, was a giant, dead Jesus, hanging from a cross, staring at all of us.
Did I mention this church was intimidating?
The Catholics did all sorts of cool things like kneeling, crossing themselves, dipping their fingers in holy water, and communion. For some reason, however, my step-mom never went up to receive communion. I didn’t ask why and knew I wasn’t allowed to receive it, either. After all, this wasn’t my church. I wasn’t a member. These people were too good for me. I worshipped and talked to God in my heart but I felt surrounded by something I could never have. I could never be good enough because I wasn’t born Catholic. I was a lowly Methodist.
The second church I attended had yet to explain why Jesus died for us. The connection wasn’t made. But there he was. Hanging dead from the cross. Staring at me. I knew to feel guilt. Feel it deeply.
Home life in Charlotte was good. I loved and detested Chad and Fawn as if they were my own brother and sister. Fawn and I shared a bedroom from the beginning. We had bunk beds and would pray every night. It was weird because God and Jesus were important but they were such distant beings. Our nightly prayers thanked him for this and that, asked him for so-and-so.
When I was still fairly young, my mom found us a new baby-sitter (we had several). This family lived in downtown Charlotte and, oh joy, they had two little boys our age. We had no choice but to go. Their boys were hellions and actually got us little angels into trouble. One time, Fawn and the younger brother were caught eating cat food. The dad picked out a nice piece of wood and began to carve it into a giant hand. Fawn knew she was safe but the other kid was hysterical. We got the real hand when we were bad. This poor kid was being tortured with a thick, wood board. Yikes. Wednesday nights, when our parents worked late, we had to attend church with the family. It didn’t make sense that they attended church during the middle of the week. It was all a little strange. Their church was outside of town and looked nothing like ours. Everyone sat in chairs and instead of a pastor, the members would get up and speak. This family didn’t watch us for long, though. But now, I equate Witnesses to this: a large, carved wooden hand ready to smack my butt if I stepped out of line.
My sister graduated from high school and moved to Lansing. She started dating a pastor at this small church called Mt. Hope. I started going to church with her. This was a church unlike any I had ever been to. People were yelling, screaming, rushing to the alter, babbling…I think I wanted to cry in fear. I saw the effect it had on my sister, though. She loved it. She had a personal relationship with Jesus and with all these people. I liked the people, too. They were fun and young. I would hang out with everyone after church. No one really pushed Jesus on me, but I felt this weirdness. I wanted to fit in, though, so I started throwing my hands in the air and pretended to “feel God”. The church was growing immensly. They were building a new facility and it was immense. It was about this time when my sister gave me a necklace with a peace dove hanging from the chain. She told me this necklace would give me faith and keep my faith. I wore that necklace everyday for a year until the day it broke. A week or so later, my friend Kim died. I was convinced it was because I wasn’t wearing the necklace. I tried to fix it and asked my sister for a new one. She laughed. “It was just a necklace,” she explained. Huh? I was now 12 and pretty confused. Look what I had been exposed to so far:
Jesus in the Methodist church—the guy who hung out with little kids and sheep; always seemed to be smiling; smelled kind of dusty; really boring
Jesus in the Catholic church—regal, dead…very dead, snobby, boring
Jesus in the Kingdom Hall—not there but at the home of the Lounds, he was going to spank my behind for thinking bad thoughts; boring
Jesus in the Pentecostal Church—really flippin weird
My sister’s engagement was broken and she left the church. Secretly, I was glad. The place freaked me out too much. I left Mt. Hope church at 12 and never went back. When I look back, the whole experience was strange. All I wanted was tradition, I wanted to be around familiarity.
A new pastor began leading the Methodist church and he really shook things up. People were excited and attendance rose. Pastor Bob also began a youth group. It consisted of seven kids, the only kids who attended the church. My mom volunteered us to join. We bellyached but went. Pastor Bob had us visit senior citizens homes, hold spaghetti suppers, and he tried to get us to talk about Jesus. I hated it. It creeped me out. I liked Jesus on my own terms but I was almost a teenager and I was starting to rebel against goodness. Pastor Bob was a music reviewer for Youth magazine. He asked Chad and I to help contribute. The two albums we had to critique: Bon Jovi’s New Jersey and Kylie Monogue’s Locomotion. I put my good, little, Christian girl hat on and ripped apart the Bon Jovi album. I told Pastor Bob what he wanted to hear. Secretly, I liked Bon Jovi.
Trying to be someone you aren’t gets tiring after awhile. Chad felt the same way. We rebelled against the pastor. He would ask us to do something and we would flat out say no. I remember this conversation well:
Bob: Alright, who’s going to volunteer to do the dishes after the pancake supper?
Chad: Like any of us are going to volunteer.
Bob: Okay, then, Chad can do them.
Chad: I’m not doing anything (leaves room).
Bob: Holly, you and Darrick will do the dishes.
Me: Okay, I’ll go get Darrick (disappears outside and finds Darrick hiding in the cemetery; ducks behind a nearby headstone).
We were jerks. Eventually, we quit going. I was talking to Chad recently about Pastor Bob. He hung his head and said, “I treated that guy so badly. I’m pretty ashamed of myself. All he ever wanted to do was help and teach us.” I never felt guilty about Bob before then. I feel a little guilty now.
The summer of 1989 approached. It was one of the best summers of my life. It was also my last summer living in Charlotte. My mom and I were finally leaving. After 9 years of being together, she and Lee were finally breaking it off. My mom found a place in Holt that she could afford and I was excited to move to the big city. I was also excited because my sister and her fiancé lived a few blocks away, the closest I had ever lived to my sis.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
2 Years
I'm sitting in Mr. Pita. It's raining but the sun is shining brightly on the cozy, little restaurant and all of us inside. I wonder if anyone else notices. As soon as I started blogging "In the beginning," the sun came out almost as if to offer encouragement.
Last night, I was reading about Jesus and John the Baptist. John wore the same clothing as Elijah. Then, I had to go back to figure out who Elijah was again. I have the worst time remembering this stuff. I never really had Sunday School. I only started paying attention two years ago. But all of that is getting better. I attend Sunday School every other week. People think I help out at Riv Kids to volunteer my time to the church. I really do it so I can finally go to Sunday School. Just kidding...kind of. I mean, I learn just as much in Riv Kids as I do in the service.
Right now, YMCA is playing. I smile, thinking about seeing them in concert last November and the story Noel told us about getting hit on by the Indian. Oh yeah...Noel, the pastor. The thing that really gets me about this whole two year anniversary is the fact that I was led to a church so full of misfit Christians like me. What I mean is that Riverview is like the land of misfit toys...strange people, funny people, people with all sorts of pasts, people who love God. The irony is that I used to tease Joey that he went to a church called "Riverdance."
Me: So what did you do today?
JC: Went to church.
Me (being a smartass): Oh, yeah...what is that place called again? Riverdance? What religion is that anyway?
JC (politely laughs): Christian...and its called Riverview.
Me: Whatever. I suppose its one of those places that plays really loud, modern music.
JC: Yeah, they do.
Me: Forget it. I could never go to a church like that. Someone starts playing the guitar and I'm gone. I want the tradition. I want to her my mom's voice above the others in a choir.
JC: Yeah, I like choirs to. My old church had one. My mom sang in it. My mom goes to Riverview now.
Me: She does?!
JC: Yeah.
Me: Hmmmmm....I suppose this is one of those places where everyone wears jeans.
JC: Yup.
Me: Figures. It's some kind of new wave church where everyone just loves Jesus so much it's gross...isn't it.
JC: Sure.
Me: So what did you learn at Riverdance today?
JC: Sex
Me: What?! Sex?! You can't talk about that in church.
JC: Well, we did! The pastor talked about good sex and bad sex. Want to know more?
Me: Maybe...
JC: Let me get my notes.
Me: Notes! You have to take notes! What kind of place is this?!
So, yeah, the topic got me through the front door...eventually. But I didn't like Riverview much the first time. I dressed up. I didn't like the relaxed look everyone else had. I couldn't stand the music. The pastor wasn't quite reaching me because there were so many layers to get through. I started dating Joey near the beginning of March. I asked him to come to the Presbyterian church in Holt because I felt like I needed the tradition. So, we went. Then, we went to Riverview.
I had relaxed a bit and just felt convicted to give it another try. I was blown away. Scenes from Signs, The Matrix, a story told with South Park characters and the best part was Johnny Cash's version of Hurt. I cried. The message talked about our Christian hope. Thankfully, I had a little of that left. After church, I knew there were changes I wanted to make. God was reaching out, almost like a last ditch effort by actually relating to my life.
It has been such a scary, weird journey since then. I have definitely had my moments and might tell you about one I had recently. There's still so much work to do...more miles to travel...
Last night, I was reading about Jesus and John the Baptist. John wore the same clothing as Elijah. Then, I had to go back to figure out who Elijah was again. I have the worst time remembering this stuff. I never really had Sunday School. I only started paying attention two years ago. But all of that is getting better. I attend Sunday School every other week. People think I help out at Riv Kids to volunteer my time to the church. I really do it so I can finally go to Sunday School. Just kidding...kind of. I mean, I learn just as much in Riv Kids as I do in the service.
Right now, YMCA is playing. I smile, thinking about seeing them in concert last November and the story Noel told us about getting hit on by the Indian. Oh yeah...Noel, the pastor. The thing that really gets me about this whole two year anniversary is the fact that I was led to a church so full of misfit Christians like me. What I mean is that Riverview is like the land of misfit toys...strange people, funny people, people with all sorts of pasts, people who love God. The irony is that I used to tease Joey that he went to a church called "Riverdance."
Me: So what did you do today?
JC: Went to church.
Me (being a smartass): Oh, yeah...what is that place called again? Riverdance? What religion is that anyway?
JC (politely laughs): Christian...and its called Riverview.
Me: Whatever. I suppose its one of those places that plays really loud, modern music.
JC: Yeah, they do.
Me: Forget it. I could never go to a church like that. Someone starts playing the guitar and I'm gone. I want the tradition. I want to her my mom's voice above the others in a choir.
JC: Yeah, I like choirs to. My old church had one. My mom sang in it. My mom goes to Riverview now.
Me: She does?!
JC: Yeah.
Me: Hmmmmm....I suppose this is one of those places where everyone wears jeans.
JC: Yup.
Me: Figures. It's some kind of new wave church where everyone just loves Jesus so much it's gross...isn't it.
JC: Sure.
Me: So what did you learn at Riverdance today?
JC: Sex
Me: What?! Sex?! You can't talk about that in church.
JC: Well, we did! The pastor talked about good sex and bad sex. Want to know more?
Me: Maybe...
JC: Let me get my notes.
Me: Notes! You have to take notes! What kind of place is this?!
So, yeah, the topic got me through the front door...eventually. But I didn't like Riverview much the first time. I dressed up. I didn't like the relaxed look everyone else had. I couldn't stand the music. The pastor wasn't quite reaching me because there were so many layers to get through. I started dating Joey near the beginning of March. I asked him to come to the Presbyterian church in Holt because I felt like I needed the tradition. So, we went. Then, we went to Riverview.
I had relaxed a bit and just felt convicted to give it another try. I was blown away. Scenes from Signs, The Matrix, a story told with South Park characters and the best part was Johnny Cash's version of Hurt. I cried. The message talked about our Christian hope. Thankfully, I had a little of that left. After church, I knew there were changes I wanted to make. God was reaching out, almost like a last ditch effort by actually relating to my life.
It has been such a scary, weird journey since then. I have definitely had my moments and might tell you about one I had recently. There's still so much work to do...more miles to travel...
In the beginning....
Tomorrow marks my 2 year anniversary of the first time I went to Riverview. I wasn't dragged there. I wasn't expecting to be changed, either. I was hung over and sick. I was also searching, but used to it by now. For the past few years I had been intensely seeking for a place I fit in, a place to grow, a place to know God...a place I hadn't really ever had. I listened with skepticism as the pastor discussed being in a rut. I chuckled to myself. Yes, sir...my whole life.
My parents were high school sweethearts, married right out of high school with a little girl on the way. They lived in Laingsburg, MI sandwiched in-between my dad's family: grandpa and grandma on one side, aunt Helen's family on the other. My mother worked as a hair stylist to help put dad through Michigan State. After he graduated, he took a job as a bartender. Both had jobs which required communication skills and dealing with other people's issues but they were so tired of being young, struggling, supporting a family, the two caved under the pressures.
They separated in 1975 and my dad moving to Lansing.
The End.
Oh...wait...there must be more.
Mom did the best she could with an 8-year-old. They continued to go to the Laingsburg Methodist Church with the rest of my dad's family, who fully supported my mom's decisions. Dad came back to Laingsburg once a week to watch my sister on Wednesday nights. I guess its safe for all to guess that my parents still had some kind of love between them otherwise, I wouldn't be writing this :)
I don't know if I was supposed to save their marriage, if I was a "surprise" to them, or if they panicked when my mom got the results. Mom says she was happy but I wonder. The truth: my grandfather was diagnosed with lung cancer and asked my pops to move back home. I guess, in a way, the tragedy of my grandpa dying is why I might be here. God knew I was going to arrive on the scene but everyone else thought my sister was going to be an only child.
Mom and dad did get back together until I was about two and a half. My father finally confessed he was in love with someone else and they got divorced.
My mom had little options at the time. She met a man who was 10 years younger. His wife had left him with a four year old son and a one and a half year old daughter. We went to live with him in Charlotte but we had to leave behind the family, including my sister. She was 12 at the time and did not want to live with Lee. My mom's parents took her in so she grew up in Ellsworth, a small town next to Charlevoix, MI.
My mom stepped right in as a surrogate mother to Chad and Fawn. Fawn even called her mommy. She brought us three kids to a little country church around the corner from our house. This church resembled the church from Little House On The Prairie, complete with a Reverend Alden. Approximately 20-30 people attended, all of them were our neighbors. A large cross hung behind the minister over a red curtain backdrop. I always wanted to know what was behind the curtain. A picture of Jesus hung above the organ. I would stare at His image, wonder why this guy loved me so much. I saw pictures of Jesus playing with sheep and holding little kid's hands. It didn't make sense to me. But if we didn't love him, we were going to hell for sure. As far as I knew, hell meant no Barbies, Pound Puppies, big wheels, or family. Sure, I'll love Jesus. He did die for me after all...wait...I wasn't even alive. How did he die for me before I was even born? I just did as I was told. Believe him. Love him.
There is a memory that stands out. Nighttime. Candles flickered. Everyone was singing Christmas hymns. Lee was there which was unusual. The "Larder" children were asked to come to the front of the church and recite a poem. It was about a Christmas Tree. We had one little line each. One of us froze. Can't remember who. I was deathly afraid. It was probably me.
For the most part, us three kids went to church every other weekend when we were home. We dreaded it. Getting dressed up, putting on the tights, dress pants, uncomfortable shoes, curling the hair. My argument was that the guy in the pictures wore a robe and sandles. Why were we getting so pretty? It was ingrained into our minds: it is respectful to dress up when you enter the house of God.
Church was boring. We usually had to sit through the entire service because there wasn't much of a Sunday School program. My mom bribed us by promising McDonald's breakfast afterwards. The whole charade was over by the time we were 10. I'm sure it broke my mom's heart but we were relieved.
But there was something else going on behind the scenes. It was taking place every other weekend when I visited my father. It was confusing. It was a little scary. It was Catholicism.
My parents were high school sweethearts, married right out of high school with a little girl on the way. They lived in Laingsburg, MI sandwiched in-between my dad's family: grandpa and grandma on one side, aunt Helen's family on the other. My mother worked as a hair stylist to help put dad through Michigan State. After he graduated, he took a job as a bartender. Both had jobs which required communication skills and dealing with other people's issues but they were so tired of being young, struggling, supporting a family, the two caved under the pressures.
They separated in 1975 and my dad moving to Lansing.
The End.
Oh...wait...there must be more.
Mom did the best she could with an 8-year-old. They continued to go to the Laingsburg Methodist Church with the rest of my dad's family, who fully supported my mom's decisions. Dad came back to Laingsburg once a week to watch my sister on Wednesday nights. I guess its safe for all to guess that my parents still had some kind of love between them otherwise, I wouldn't be writing this :)
I don't know if I was supposed to save their marriage, if I was a "surprise" to them, or if they panicked when my mom got the results. Mom says she was happy but I wonder. The truth: my grandfather was diagnosed with lung cancer and asked my pops to move back home. I guess, in a way, the tragedy of my grandpa dying is why I might be here. God knew I was going to arrive on the scene but everyone else thought my sister was going to be an only child.
Mom and dad did get back together until I was about two and a half. My father finally confessed he was in love with someone else and they got divorced.
My mom had little options at the time. She met a man who was 10 years younger. His wife had left him with a four year old son and a one and a half year old daughter. We went to live with him in Charlotte but we had to leave behind the family, including my sister. She was 12 at the time and did not want to live with Lee. My mom's parents took her in so she grew up in Ellsworth, a small town next to Charlevoix, MI.
My mom stepped right in as a surrogate mother to Chad and Fawn. Fawn even called her mommy. She brought us three kids to a little country church around the corner from our house. This church resembled the church from Little House On The Prairie, complete with a Reverend Alden. Approximately 20-30 people attended, all of them were our neighbors. A large cross hung behind the minister over a red curtain backdrop. I always wanted to know what was behind the curtain. A picture of Jesus hung above the organ. I would stare at His image, wonder why this guy loved me so much. I saw pictures of Jesus playing with sheep and holding little kid's hands. It didn't make sense to me. But if we didn't love him, we were going to hell for sure. As far as I knew, hell meant no Barbies, Pound Puppies, big wheels, or family. Sure, I'll love Jesus. He did die for me after all...wait...I wasn't even alive. How did he die for me before I was even born? I just did as I was told. Believe him. Love him.
There is a memory that stands out. Nighttime. Candles flickered. Everyone was singing Christmas hymns. Lee was there which was unusual. The "Larder" children were asked to come to the front of the church and recite a poem. It was about a Christmas Tree. We had one little line each. One of us froze. Can't remember who. I was deathly afraid. It was probably me.
For the most part, us three kids went to church every other weekend when we were home. We dreaded it. Getting dressed up, putting on the tights, dress pants, uncomfortable shoes, curling the hair. My argument was that the guy in the pictures wore a robe and sandles. Why were we getting so pretty? It was ingrained into our minds: it is respectful to dress up when you enter the house of God.
Church was boring. We usually had to sit through the entire service because there wasn't much of a Sunday School program. My mom bribed us by promising McDonald's breakfast afterwards. The whole charade was over by the time we were 10. I'm sure it broke my mom's heart but we were relieved.
But there was something else going on behind the scenes. It was taking place every other weekend when I visited my father. It was confusing. It was a little scary. It was Catholicism.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Bad Day
I'm cleaning house a bit today on my blog and going through drafts I never posted. I wrote this on 2/14/05.
It is difficult to admit this happened...but it did. I had a rough day this weekend. I was challenged in a big way and I fell. I was quickly reminded about a line I have to draw. It is not a line regarding sexuality or drinking. It is a line of what I can expose myself to as a fairly new Christ Follower.
The wise know and understand the truth. Yes, they seek more wisdom but having a firm perspective and knowing the Bible makes them less susciptible to controvery. They walk into a fire, they leave unscathed because they hold on to what they've learned. Throw a new believer in the fire, chances are they will get burned unless someone brings them out of it.
I saw the book sitting out and I read one page. It was a book which explains the Da Vinci Code. I thought it was the book which disproved the Da Vinci Code. Nope. One page was all it took to make my head spin. Immiediatly, I went to my Bible and tried to look for answers to some crazy theory I just read. I didn't find anything. Tired, I took a nap.
Upon waking an hour later, I felt so cold and alone. It was almost like I could feel my own mortality...the fact that I wouldn't always be alive. But the feeling of just complete lonliness pressed my heart.
"What in the hell was I doing? What was this religiousy crap I was buying into? And God? Give me a break. It's like Santa Claus and I'll never know because there is no God...there is no God? Is there a God? Have I been brainwashed? What is happening?"
I seriously panicked. Lost. Confused. Sick. Anger. Tears. Shame.
Every new Christian should have a sponser of some sort. So I called mine, JAC. But I was evil and spoke evil. All of this anger was just building inside of me. The sponsor picked me up and we started driving out to Charlotte to see some friends. We got as far as the high school when I got a call from my sister that my car was blocking her in. We turned around and went back. As we left for the second time, I said, "maybe we weren't supposed to go to Charlotte tonight. Let's go to 2 Feathers. I've never been."
So we went. And the Holt Wrestling Coaches were there. And they were so happy to see us. They invited us in and we ended up laughing a lot. And it was purely coincedence, right? I finally admitted why I was tripping out so bad. My sponsor listened paitently and said some things I took to heart.
I feel okay right now. It's almost like after a fight when you feel a little sensitive around the person who hurt you or who you hurt. God didn't hurt me but I still feel a little shaky. I suppose this happens to people without wisdom and knowledge. I'm quickly trying to gain some but it could take my whole life. What am I supposed to do in the meantime?
Listen to my own stupid advice. I mean, look at what I had written the day before about turning God on and off? How He is always there. It is so hard to follow advice whether it is your own or another humans. Anyhow, all is good now. I got back up but feel the limp a little. It will heal. Damn that satan, too. He's a tricky-you-know-what.
It is difficult to admit this happened...but it did. I had a rough day this weekend. I was challenged in a big way and I fell. I was quickly reminded about a line I have to draw. It is not a line regarding sexuality or drinking. It is a line of what I can expose myself to as a fairly new Christ Follower.
The wise know and understand the truth. Yes, they seek more wisdom but having a firm perspective and knowing the Bible makes them less susciptible to controvery. They walk into a fire, they leave unscathed because they hold on to what they've learned. Throw a new believer in the fire, chances are they will get burned unless someone brings them out of it.
I saw the book sitting out and I read one page. It was a book which explains the Da Vinci Code. I thought it was the book which disproved the Da Vinci Code. Nope. One page was all it took to make my head spin. Immiediatly, I went to my Bible and tried to look for answers to some crazy theory I just read. I didn't find anything. Tired, I took a nap.
Upon waking an hour later, I felt so cold and alone. It was almost like I could feel my own mortality...the fact that I wouldn't always be alive. But the feeling of just complete lonliness pressed my heart.
"What in the hell was I doing? What was this religiousy crap I was buying into? And God? Give me a break. It's like Santa Claus and I'll never know because there is no God...there is no God? Is there a God? Have I been brainwashed? What is happening?"
I seriously panicked. Lost. Confused. Sick. Anger. Tears. Shame.
Every new Christian should have a sponser of some sort. So I called mine, JAC. But I was evil and spoke evil. All of this anger was just building inside of me. The sponsor picked me up and we started driving out to Charlotte to see some friends. We got as far as the high school when I got a call from my sister that my car was blocking her in. We turned around and went back. As we left for the second time, I said, "maybe we weren't supposed to go to Charlotte tonight. Let's go to 2 Feathers. I've never been."
So we went. And the Holt Wrestling Coaches were there. And they were so happy to see us. They invited us in and we ended up laughing a lot. And it was purely coincedence, right? I finally admitted why I was tripping out so bad. My sponsor listened paitently and said some things I took to heart.
I feel okay right now. It's almost like after a fight when you feel a little sensitive around the person who hurt you or who you hurt. God didn't hurt me but I still feel a little shaky. I suppose this happens to people without wisdom and knowledge. I'm quickly trying to gain some but it could take my whole life. What am I supposed to do in the meantime?
Listen to my own stupid advice. I mean, look at what I had written the day before about turning God on and off? How He is always there. It is so hard to follow advice whether it is your own or another humans. Anyhow, all is good now. I got back up but feel the limp a little. It will heal. Damn that satan, too. He's a tricky-you-know-what.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Gone Fishing
I read an article today entitled “When God Seems Distant.” The first line is “God is real, no matter how you feel.” Conclusion: We can’t turn God on and off. We can turn ourselves on and off but God remains.
The author of this book brought up something striking for a new Christian: sometimes God shuts up. He doesn’t go away but it feels like there’s nothing there. “When you are a baby Christian, God gives you a lot of confirming emotions and often answers the most immature, self-centered prayers—so you’ll know He exists.” I can agree with this. God has been on my speed dial for two years and I can’t believe the things I’ve been blessed with just by asking. He does the craziest little things and makes me KNOW it is Him.
The author went on to say how God will wean us of this excessive dependency on feelings. He wants us to grow, live in faith, and trust Him. “The most common mistake Christians make in worship is seeking an experience rather than seeking God. But seeking a feeling, even a feeling of closeness to Christ, is not worship.”
This was tough for me to read let alone understand, but I see what the author is saying. We should not base our relationship with God on feelings alone—we need to base it on faith because the feelings will leave us. We will go through periods of “dryness” or a rut. “Yes, God wants you to sense his presence, but he’s more concerned that you trust him than that you feel him.”
The author gave tips on what to do when it feels like God's gone fishing, especially at the worst times in your life: "How do you keep your eyes on Jesus when they’re full of tears?”
*Tell Him how you feel, just as Job did. “God can handle your doubt, anger, fear, grief, confusion, and questions.” This author states that admitting your hopelessness can be a statement of faith.
*Focus on who God is:
Good, loving (I first thought this said good-looking), all-powerful, in control, knows everything about us, and will save us.
*Trust God to keep His promises, even if we don’t see the result for 50 years.
*Remember what He did for you.
Even if God never does anything for you again, remember that He gave us His son. “That alone is worthy of your continual thanks and praise. Never again should you wonder what you have to be thankful for.”
It is these times of absence when we mature, grow in our faith and learn to trust God when we don’t feel God. Is God with us right now? Yes. Do you feel Him? Do you need to? I like it when I can feel God, but I know that I won't always...and he'll still be there secretly urging me to grow to a new level.
I could also just be crazy.
The author of this book brought up something striking for a new Christian: sometimes God shuts up. He doesn’t go away but it feels like there’s nothing there. “When you are a baby Christian, God gives you a lot of confirming emotions and often answers the most immature, self-centered prayers—so you’ll know He exists.” I can agree with this. God has been on my speed dial for two years and I can’t believe the things I’ve been blessed with just by asking. He does the craziest little things and makes me KNOW it is Him.
The author went on to say how God will wean us of this excessive dependency on feelings. He wants us to grow, live in faith, and trust Him. “The most common mistake Christians make in worship is seeking an experience rather than seeking God. But seeking a feeling, even a feeling of closeness to Christ, is not worship.”
This was tough for me to read let alone understand, but I see what the author is saying. We should not base our relationship with God on feelings alone—we need to base it on faith because the feelings will leave us. We will go through periods of “dryness” or a rut. “Yes, God wants you to sense his presence, but he’s more concerned that you trust him than that you feel him.”
The author gave tips on what to do when it feels like God's gone fishing, especially at the worst times in your life: "How do you keep your eyes on Jesus when they’re full of tears?”
*Tell Him how you feel, just as Job did. “God can handle your doubt, anger, fear, grief, confusion, and questions.” This author states that admitting your hopelessness can be a statement of faith.
*Focus on who God is:
Good, loving (I first thought this said good-looking), all-powerful, in control, knows everything about us, and will save us.
*Trust God to keep His promises, even if we don’t see the result for 50 years.
*Remember what He did for you.
Even if God never does anything for you again, remember that He gave us His son. “That alone is worthy of your continual thanks and praise. Never again should you wonder what you have to be thankful for.”
It is these times of absence when we mature, grow in our faith and learn to trust God when we don’t feel God. Is God with us right now? Yes. Do you feel Him? Do you need to? I like it when I can feel God, but I know that I won't always...and he'll still be there secretly urging me to grow to a new level.
I could also just be crazy.
We have a friend named Dan. His dad isn't doing so hot. Please pray for his father and for the family. I'm sure it helps that Dan's wife is hot and his baby is the cutest but...man, this sucks...its hitting extra hard. Good ol' empathy....
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Day 1
The first day of Lent went pretty well. Went out for drinks with a friend and ordered a sandwich with no cheese. I also flossed last night. Yay, me. Then came my mini Bible study, starting at 10:30 (so I can be in bed by 11). I meant to learn something new about Jesus but I just couldn't pull myself away from Acts. It was getting so intense. And now...a Bible question for you:
Who is considered the first Christian martyr?
I'm sure all of the elders know this but I wonder, without looking it up, how many people know this person. The bonus question is how did this person's death result in the spread of Christianity?
I know, I know...probably too easy for all of you but being a toddler, I just thought I would throw it out there.
Who is considered the first Christian martyr?
I'm sure all of the elders know this but I wonder, without looking it up, how many people know this person. The bonus question is how did this person's death result in the spread of Christianity?
I know, I know...probably too easy for all of you but being a toddler, I just thought I would throw it out there.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Unanswerable Questions
On May 23, 1994, I handed in my last Modern English Literature paper to Mrs. Lynch, 5th hour. It was handed back to me a week later with the following note: Holly-This is so special-it made me cry because I was once-and maybe still am, that little girl, too—I doubt, I question, I ache for answers which don’t come-you put it together in pain and hope. A+
This might be the only A+ I ever received. It was definitely the most important because I bared my soul to Mrs. Lynch. I seriously took the barriers down and wrote as if my reputation didn’t matter. I believe this paper reflects the faith struggle I was going through 10 years ago. I couldn’t write the faith journey without this reflection of myself at 18-years-old. I’m not sure I’ll share the whole thing. Some of it is too private to post. But I’ll share what matters. This paper wasn’t about shock value. It wasn’t full of original ideas.
Please keep in mind this writing reflects who I was 10 years ago. I was seriously a confused individual :) Here goes nothing....
Unanswerable Questions
It was the month where the snow covered most of the Western Hemisphere. Chilly winds brought drifting snow through the midnight sky. Most people were asleep. Some people were preparing for the next day’s Sunday service. This midnight was no different from the rest. It was this midnight, however, a baby girl was born.
Did she blow in with the chilly winds? Was she brought with the drifting snow? Could she have been sent from the heavens above? No one asked the questions. No one seemed to care. The baby was there, finally, and every heart that knew her felt blessed.
The baby girl was tucked away in a cozy little town. An abundance of security surrounded her life. Daddy, Mommy, Sissy, and baby Jesus were among her first words. She was brought into God’s body and baptized.
A tragedy struck the baby girl’s home. The death of her grandfather shook the family. As his loved ones buried him, they looked to his baby granddaughter sadly. She would never know the great man he was. They thought, “God must have His reasons.”
The little girl’s security was taken from her at a young age. The family split up. Daddy moved to Lansing and Sissy went to live up north. Her mother was left to guide her. They moved far away from her cozy home into a nicer home with a man, a boy, and a girl. Her new companions quickly became her older brother and younger sister. The little girl was surrounded by new security and happiness, yet her heart ached for her father and Sissy.
The little girl’s mother decided to begin the teachings of religion. Church and Sunday School were attended. Stories for Jesus’ miracles were read. They fascinated her young mind. However, her mother never explained the more specific ideas of their Methodist religion. The little girl lost interest but not faith in God nor Jesus. Even at her young age, the little girl decided that she did not believe in organized religion.
Time passed. The little girl spent the weekdays at school and the weekends at her father’s home. Once a year, she and her mother would travel up north to visit her grandparents and Sissy. Life was grand. God was loved.
The girl began middle school. She made some friends and her time was occupied. She said her prayers every night and respected all of the Ten Commandments. She even attended church annually to please her mother.
The girl’s life was so secure and happy, she didn’t see death sneaking up behind her. Slowly and painfully, it took a friend. For the first time, anger towards God filled her heart. Unanswerable questions were raised.
Where was Kim? Was she on earth watching everyone as an angel? Was she in heaven with God? Kim’s step-mother gave birth to Kim’s brother the day after she died. Had Kim been reincarnated into the baby boy? Was she just dead? How could God take a fourteen-year-old daughter, new sister, and friend?
Months sped by and July brought a summer rainfall. After the rain ended, the girl and a friend were driving on a three wheeler. The girl saw the barbed wire fence but the tires slid in the mud. Her leg and arm were ripped open. The friend climbed over the fence and began to run the half mile for help. The girl was left alone.
She screamed in fear for help. She screamed for Kim. Loneliness surrounded her. She began to say the Lord’s Prayer. It was then that a ray of sunlight burst through the clouds and shone on her broken body. The girl’s spirits were raised. She felt God. She felt Kim. She felt her grandfather. She wanted to go to them. Her spirits soared. The pain was gone. Someone shook her body. She had been rescued. God was forgiven.
A new school was attended. Her brother and sister fit in perfectly. Everyone seemed to hate the girl. The girl wanted friends but had a hard time making them. Then, another major tragedy hit the family. Her step-father’s best friend was killed in a car accident half a mile from their home. Her step-father turned to alcohol. Long nights in the bar pushed him away from his son, daughter and wife. The girl didn’t really care. Her feelings were gone.
Summer came. It brought warm temperatures, nights in the tent listening to the countryside fall asleep, fireworks, bike rides, pool parties, and a separation.
The girl and her mother fled for happiness to a place called Holt. At first, the girl was terribly lonely without her brother and sister, but now she lived ten minutes away from her father and Sissy lived down the street with her new dog and new husband.
School started and Holt became the heaven she had hoped for. New friends filled the gaps and new adventures brought her smile back. Unanswerable questions she used to ponder on became trivial. Living life was more important.
The death of Ryan White took a little more faith away from God. The girl believed Ryan was supposed to make it. He was a good person. Why did God allow him to get A.I.D.’s? Why did Ryan have to suffer? If God was purely good, why did all of these horrible things happen?
In the middle of her tenth grade year, the biggest miracle of all occurred. Her baby nephew was born. He arrived in the middle of a snowstorm. He was born at a difficult time. Sissy was going through a divorce. However, the baby boy brought everyone hope.
The girl began to ask questions again. Where did the little miracle come from? Did he come in with the drifting snow or the chilly winds? Why was he born now, at a time when the world seemed to be crumbling?
The girl grew. A new best friend entered her world and they were inseparable. They felt they were now mature enough to begin drinking. They went back to the girl’s old home and partied with her brother. They drank. They had fun. They enjoyed their youth.
The snow came back and brought a new tragedy. A girl they partied with was killed. Their beer bottles dropped and shattered.
The girl reached inside herself for help. People called her moody. Some called her a bitch. The only thing she could see was the future. Her final year of true adolescence had arrived. It was time to grow up. High school life became juvenile. She was tired of the petty fights and insignificant friendships. Drinking and drugs were stupid. She preached against "certain things"…and then did them. Everyone thought she was so special. She going to be the first in her family to go away to college. No one knew. No one except for God. Of course He knew. He let it happen to her.
She scrambled inside for an answer. She couldn’t let her family down. She had prom, college, a future. The little baby, who was now a young woman, brought those unanswered questions up again.
She had been baptized but what did that mean? She had been a fairly good child and had always put her faith in God. She did not believe in organized religions but used their churches to worship God on her own terms.
The tragedies had always come with the snow: grandpa, Kim, Allen, Ryan and Christina were dead. Yet, the snow had also brought in miracles and hope: her own birth, the birth of Kim’s brother, and the birth of her nephew. So the girl attempted to rationalize God’s reasons. Kim’s death prepared her for the other tragedies. Allen’s death had brought her to Holt. Ryan’s death had saved him from a vicious disease. Christina’s death forced her to rethink her habits and way of life. Were these lessons of God or just lessons of human life?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’ll come out of this shell to say I believe in fate. I believe I control my life. I believe in God, though sometimes I think he might exist only because people need to have something to believe in. After all, the things that have happened in my life, it’s easy to put my faith in something superior.
But it makes me wonder. We all start out to be perfect little babies no person hates. As we grow, something changes us. Some remain good, others stray far from innocence. We gain enemies. We gain tragedies. We gain miracles, too. Things tend to even out rather than being all good or bad. We get ourselves into our own messes. How can God control all of this?
One of my biggest questions is where is Jesus? If he’s the messiah, why hasn’t he come back? Is it because all of his brothers and sisters have turned their backs? Or is it because Jesus was just a quack like the one at my step-mother’s church? I believe in Jesus. He was a real man who performed miracles and loved people but how does He fit into my life?
Now Matt’s gone. Damn it. We all pulled for him. We showed him how much we cared even though we didn’t know him and now he’s gone. Two weeks until graduation and he’s gone. The hallways I walk and see, he once saw but now he’s gone. Just like that. His life is gone and ours goes on. Our God did this?
In the end, maybe we are the ones who watch out for ourselves. Maybe there is no reason to be kind to one another or to abide by the rules. Maybe there is no ultimate goal. It’s hard to imagine, however. There must be a heaven. My faith is somewhere but it’s lost. The only thing I have are these unanswerable questions.
This might be the only A+ I ever received. It was definitely the most important because I bared my soul to Mrs. Lynch. I seriously took the barriers down and wrote as if my reputation didn’t matter. I believe this paper reflects the faith struggle I was going through 10 years ago. I couldn’t write the faith journey without this reflection of myself at 18-years-old. I’m not sure I’ll share the whole thing. Some of it is too private to post. But I’ll share what matters. This paper wasn’t about shock value. It wasn’t full of original ideas.
Please keep in mind this writing reflects who I was 10 years ago. I was seriously a confused individual :) Here goes nothing....
Unanswerable Questions
It was the month where the snow covered most of the Western Hemisphere. Chilly winds brought drifting snow through the midnight sky. Most people were asleep. Some people were preparing for the next day’s Sunday service. This midnight was no different from the rest. It was this midnight, however, a baby girl was born.
Did she blow in with the chilly winds? Was she brought with the drifting snow? Could she have been sent from the heavens above? No one asked the questions. No one seemed to care. The baby was there, finally, and every heart that knew her felt blessed.
The baby girl was tucked away in a cozy little town. An abundance of security surrounded her life. Daddy, Mommy, Sissy, and baby Jesus were among her first words. She was brought into God’s body and baptized.
A tragedy struck the baby girl’s home. The death of her grandfather shook the family. As his loved ones buried him, they looked to his baby granddaughter sadly. She would never know the great man he was. They thought, “God must have His reasons.”
The little girl’s security was taken from her at a young age. The family split up. Daddy moved to Lansing and Sissy went to live up north. Her mother was left to guide her. They moved far away from her cozy home into a nicer home with a man, a boy, and a girl. Her new companions quickly became her older brother and younger sister. The little girl was surrounded by new security and happiness, yet her heart ached for her father and Sissy.
The little girl’s mother decided to begin the teachings of religion. Church and Sunday School were attended. Stories for Jesus’ miracles were read. They fascinated her young mind. However, her mother never explained the more specific ideas of their Methodist religion. The little girl lost interest but not faith in God nor Jesus. Even at her young age, the little girl decided that she did not believe in organized religion.
Time passed. The little girl spent the weekdays at school and the weekends at her father’s home. Once a year, she and her mother would travel up north to visit her grandparents and Sissy. Life was grand. God was loved.
The girl began middle school. She made some friends and her time was occupied. She said her prayers every night and respected all of the Ten Commandments. She even attended church annually to please her mother.
The girl’s life was so secure and happy, she didn’t see death sneaking up behind her. Slowly and painfully, it took a friend. For the first time, anger towards God filled her heart. Unanswerable questions were raised.
Where was Kim? Was she on earth watching everyone as an angel? Was she in heaven with God? Kim’s step-mother gave birth to Kim’s brother the day after she died. Had Kim been reincarnated into the baby boy? Was she just dead? How could God take a fourteen-year-old daughter, new sister, and friend?
Months sped by and July brought a summer rainfall. After the rain ended, the girl and a friend were driving on a three wheeler. The girl saw the barbed wire fence but the tires slid in the mud. Her leg and arm were ripped open. The friend climbed over the fence and began to run the half mile for help. The girl was left alone.
She screamed in fear for help. She screamed for Kim. Loneliness surrounded her. She began to say the Lord’s Prayer. It was then that a ray of sunlight burst through the clouds and shone on her broken body. The girl’s spirits were raised. She felt God. She felt Kim. She felt her grandfather. She wanted to go to them. Her spirits soared. The pain was gone. Someone shook her body. She had been rescued. God was forgiven.
A new school was attended. Her brother and sister fit in perfectly. Everyone seemed to hate the girl. The girl wanted friends but had a hard time making them. Then, another major tragedy hit the family. Her step-father’s best friend was killed in a car accident half a mile from their home. Her step-father turned to alcohol. Long nights in the bar pushed him away from his son, daughter and wife. The girl didn’t really care. Her feelings were gone.
Summer came. It brought warm temperatures, nights in the tent listening to the countryside fall asleep, fireworks, bike rides, pool parties, and a separation.
The girl and her mother fled for happiness to a place called Holt. At first, the girl was terribly lonely without her brother and sister, but now she lived ten minutes away from her father and Sissy lived down the street with her new dog and new husband.
School started and Holt became the heaven she had hoped for. New friends filled the gaps and new adventures brought her smile back. Unanswerable questions she used to ponder on became trivial. Living life was more important.
The death of Ryan White took a little more faith away from God. The girl believed Ryan was supposed to make it. He was a good person. Why did God allow him to get A.I.D.’s? Why did Ryan have to suffer? If God was purely good, why did all of these horrible things happen?
In the middle of her tenth grade year, the biggest miracle of all occurred. Her baby nephew was born. He arrived in the middle of a snowstorm. He was born at a difficult time. Sissy was going through a divorce. However, the baby boy brought everyone hope.
The girl began to ask questions again. Where did the little miracle come from? Did he come in with the drifting snow or the chilly winds? Why was he born now, at a time when the world seemed to be crumbling?
The girl grew. A new best friend entered her world and they were inseparable. They felt they were now mature enough to begin drinking. They went back to the girl’s old home and partied with her brother. They drank. They had fun. They enjoyed their youth.
The snow came back and brought a new tragedy. A girl they partied with was killed. Their beer bottles dropped and shattered.
The girl reached inside herself for help. People called her moody. Some called her a bitch. The only thing she could see was the future. Her final year of true adolescence had arrived. It was time to grow up. High school life became juvenile. She was tired of the petty fights and insignificant friendships. Drinking and drugs were stupid. She preached against "certain things"…and then did them. Everyone thought she was so special. She going to be the first in her family to go away to college. No one knew. No one except for God. Of course He knew. He let it happen to her.
She scrambled inside for an answer. She couldn’t let her family down. She had prom, college, a future. The little baby, who was now a young woman, brought those unanswered questions up again.
She had been baptized but what did that mean? She had been a fairly good child and had always put her faith in God. She did not believe in organized religions but used their churches to worship God on her own terms.
The tragedies had always come with the snow: grandpa, Kim, Allen, Ryan and Christina were dead. Yet, the snow had also brought in miracles and hope: her own birth, the birth of Kim’s brother, and the birth of her nephew. So the girl attempted to rationalize God’s reasons. Kim’s death prepared her for the other tragedies. Allen’s death had brought her to Holt. Ryan’s death had saved him from a vicious disease. Christina’s death forced her to rethink her habits and way of life. Were these lessons of God or just lessons of human life?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’ll come out of this shell to say I believe in fate. I believe I control my life. I believe in God, though sometimes I think he might exist only because people need to have something to believe in. After all, the things that have happened in my life, it’s easy to put my faith in something superior.
But it makes me wonder. We all start out to be perfect little babies no person hates. As we grow, something changes us. Some remain good, others stray far from innocence. We gain enemies. We gain tragedies. We gain miracles, too. Things tend to even out rather than being all good or bad. We get ourselves into our own messes. How can God control all of this?
One of my biggest questions is where is Jesus? If he’s the messiah, why hasn’t he come back? Is it because all of his brothers and sisters have turned their backs? Or is it because Jesus was just a quack like the one at my step-mother’s church? I believe in Jesus. He was a real man who performed miracles and loved people but how does He fit into my life?
Now Matt’s gone. Damn it. We all pulled for him. We showed him how much we cared even though we didn’t know him and now he’s gone. Two weeks until graduation and he’s gone. The hallways I walk and see, he once saw but now he’s gone. Just like that. His life is gone and ours goes on. Our God did this?
In the end, maybe we are the ones who watch out for ourselves. Maybe there is no reason to be kind to one another or to abide by the rules. Maybe there is no ultimate goal. It’s hard to imagine, however. There must be a heaven. My faith is somewhere but it’s lost. The only thing I have are these unanswerable questions.
Packzi
Yesterday was amazing. Religion was flying around here at Valassis. It began in the morning when I discovered some of my electronic folders were missing. I called and left a calm, yet urgent message for Dave. His line was busy because at the same time, he had discovered my electronic folders were missing and was frantically leaving me a message.
We finally connected. It was strange because this dude was panicked.
"Dave, you call in the big guns...IT...and while you're doing that, I'll pray." He agreed. I prayed. He called me back. "I need to have more faith because I found the folders.
"I wasn' t worried," I said.
After lunch, I went down to check on Dave. He relayed that the day was really going down the sewage drains. I laughed and said maybe he should eat a packzi. This started a conversation that lasted 45 minutes.
Dave (the Pentecostal), Jimie (the Catholic) and me (the...ummmm...mutt? mixed breed? Great Commission Church rep? Oh! Plain old Christian) discussed our religions and how I didn't really have one. We laughed about Dave's church, we joked about Catholics, and they both agreed I belong to the church that handles live snakes (still don't understand the joke but they thought it was pretty hilarious). The conversation got really interesting when Chuck rolled his chair over. We all busted out laughing.
"Glad you joined this discussion," Dave said. Chuck asked why. "Because we needed to add a Jew, " I joked. We all laughed and then in a non-threatening manner, we discussed religions and beliefs....a tricky thing to do in a corporation.
Later in the afternoon, I went to get some packzi's for my teammates and ran into Dave talking to four others in the hallway. Something about the way they were all just standing there in the middle of the hallway made me curious, so I stopped. Guess what they were talking about? No, they were actually talking about Easter.
Apparently, one of the girls I work with thought Easter was some kind of Hallmark holiday and full of eggs, the Easter bunny and baked ham, but not green eggs and ham. Seriously, I almost started crying but held back. We explained it to her but the loudest voice was coming from Geetha, who is from India. It was such a mix of culture, really interesting.
The best part from all of these discussions is that no one was judging each other and I wasn't judging in my heart. I really don't like how religion is such an icky conversation topic but everyone was able to discuss, relate, and ask questions without feeling threatened in any way. Yay, God.
We finally connected. It was strange because this dude was panicked.
"Dave, you call in the big guns...IT...and while you're doing that, I'll pray." He agreed. I prayed. He called me back. "I need to have more faith because I found the folders.
"I wasn' t worried," I said.
After lunch, I went down to check on Dave. He relayed that the day was really going down the sewage drains. I laughed and said maybe he should eat a packzi. This started a conversation that lasted 45 minutes.
Dave (the Pentecostal), Jimie (the Catholic) and me (the...ummmm...mutt? mixed breed? Great Commission Church rep? Oh! Plain old Christian) discussed our religions and how I didn't really have one. We laughed about Dave's church, we joked about Catholics, and they both agreed I belong to the church that handles live snakes (still don't understand the joke but they thought it was pretty hilarious). The conversation got really interesting when Chuck rolled his chair over. We all busted out laughing.
"Glad you joined this discussion," Dave said. Chuck asked why. "Because we needed to add a Jew, " I joked. We all laughed and then in a non-threatening manner, we discussed religions and beliefs....a tricky thing to do in a corporation.
Later in the afternoon, I went to get some packzi's for my teammates and ran into Dave talking to four others in the hallway. Something about the way they were all just standing there in the middle of the hallway made me curious, so I stopped. Guess what they were talking about? No, they were actually talking about Easter.
Apparently, one of the girls I work with thought Easter was some kind of Hallmark holiday and full of eggs, the Easter bunny and baked ham, but not green eggs and ham. Seriously, I almost started crying but held back. We explained it to her but the loudest voice was coming from Geetha, who is from India. It was such a mix of culture, really interesting.
The best part from all of these discussions is that no one was judging each other and I wasn't judging in my heart. I really don't like how religion is such an icky conversation topic but everyone was able to discuss, relate, and ask questions without feeling threatened in any way. Yay, God.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
I'm Sorry
If you hadn't wondered about me,
I wouldn't be where I am now.
If you hadn't cared about where I stood,
I would be stuck in sinful relationship.
If you didn't lead me,
I wouldn't have followed.
If you didn't show me my potential,
I wouldn't be showing others their potential.
If you would have given up on me,
I would have given up on myself.
If you didn't love me more than yourself,
I would not know Christ's love.
And I'm so, so sorry that I don't love you back,
the way you need me to.
I wouldn't be where I am now.
If you hadn't cared about where I stood,
I would be stuck in sinful relationship.
If you didn't lead me,
I wouldn't have followed.
If you didn't show me my potential,
I wouldn't be showing others their potential.
If you would have given up on me,
I would have given up on myself.
If you didn't love me more than yourself,
I would not know Christ's love.
And I'm so, so sorry that I don't love you back,
the way you need me to.
Lent
This is my favorite time of the year.
Lent is an exciting time, propelling us closer to spring. Warmer temps, more sunshine and the best part: rebirth. During these 40 days, nature slowly transforms itself into soft new colors, buds sprouting, tulips popping…from death to birth
Lent is a sad time, especially this year, though not compared to last year. The death Christ suffered for us moves me to no end. But we are also approaching the anniversaries of friends/family who have died.
Lent is a powerful time. We reflect on what God did for us and the sacrifice of our savior.
This weekend marks my two year anniversary, or birthday of the day I woke up, stood up, and paid attention by listening to what God was trying to tell me for so long, and following Him: my death to my birth. Over this season, I will be taking a look at a story…it’s about faith…its mine. I’ll share the journey I’ve traveled so far. Some of it is personal, but not too personal (those will be omitted).
And now, here are some things I’ve given up for Lent from high school thru last year:
Skittles
Swearing
Fast Food
Pop
Drinking
This year, I plan on giving up cheese...and shopping for myself. I’m also going to do the following:
Floss every night
Learn one thing about Jesus every day and journal it (maybe not here but in my Jesus journal).
Meet one new person at Riverview every Sunday.
Stop talking about Riverview.
Huh? Stop talking about Riverview? Yes, I think Riverview is my key to opening up dialogue with non-Christians. It is very easy to talk about my church. It opens the door to many interesting conversations. However, I want to talk about it less and talk about God more. Of course, if Riverview comes up or naturally works itself into a conversation, I’ll go for it. I just feel like I sometimes shove it down people’s throats, so I guess I’m giving up shoving Riverview down people’s throats.
Understand, I do all of this for fun. It has nothing to do with my salvation and I understand I’m not sacrificing to God. I do it because I’m hoping some of these changes will form into good habits. I’ll use Lent as the excuse.
Lent is an exciting time, propelling us closer to spring. Warmer temps, more sunshine and the best part: rebirth. During these 40 days, nature slowly transforms itself into soft new colors, buds sprouting, tulips popping…from death to birth
Lent is a sad time, especially this year, though not compared to last year. The death Christ suffered for us moves me to no end. But we are also approaching the anniversaries of friends/family who have died.
Lent is a powerful time. We reflect on what God did for us and the sacrifice of our savior.
This weekend marks my two year anniversary, or birthday of the day I woke up, stood up, and paid attention by listening to what God was trying to tell me for so long, and following Him: my death to my birth. Over this season, I will be taking a look at a story…it’s about faith…its mine. I’ll share the journey I’ve traveled so far. Some of it is personal, but not too personal (those will be omitted).
And now, here are some things I’ve given up for Lent from high school thru last year:
Skittles
Swearing
Fast Food
Pop
Drinking
This year, I plan on giving up cheese...and shopping for myself. I’m also going to do the following:
Floss every night
Learn one thing about Jesus every day and journal it (maybe not here but in my Jesus journal).
Meet one new person at Riverview every Sunday.
Stop talking about Riverview.
Huh? Stop talking about Riverview? Yes, I think Riverview is my key to opening up dialogue with non-Christians. It is very easy to talk about my church. It opens the door to many interesting conversations. However, I want to talk about it less and talk about God more. Of course, if Riverview comes up or naturally works itself into a conversation, I’ll go for it. I just feel like I sometimes shove it down people’s throats, so I guess I’m giving up shoving Riverview down people’s throats.
Understand, I do all of this for fun. It has nothing to do with my salvation and I understand I’m not sacrificing to God. I do it because I’m hoping some of these changes will form into good habits. I’ll use Lent as the excuse.
Friday, February 04, 2005
Blow drying my hair this morning, the old mind wandered back to college days. Senior year, I started dating a guy who had several friends that were really pretty girls. Two of these girls drove me nuts. They seemed flawless: the hair, the clothes, the humor...I was a little (lot) insecure. What made it worse was that Angie and Shelley didn't always seem so friendly. In fact, I always felt like they were judging me. So I wanted to change.
I went to my mom with a picture in hand. "Mom, I want this haircut." "Why this haircut?" "Because....there are these girls that hang around with Bush and I just need to look extra...I don't know...good (meaning hip or cool)." Now, my mom could have argued with me about feeling like I wasn't good enough blah, blah, blah but she just gave me the haircut. I was satisfied. I felt cool. No, it didn't fix the relationship between Angie, Shelley and myself.
Yes, I was thinking about all of this while blowing drying my hair this morning. Then, I smiled.
*I was a bridesmaid in Angie's wedding.
*Shelley just sent me an early birthday gift--clothes from my favorite store.
These two people have been my close friends for over 5 years now. Funny....weird funny....
I went to my mom with a picture in hand. "Mom, I want this haircut." "Why this haircut?" "Because....there are these girls that hang around with Bush and I just need to look extra...I don't know...good (meaning hip or cool)." Now, my mom could have argued with me about feeling like I wasn't good enough blah, blah, blah but she just gave me the haircut. I was satisfied. I felt cool. No, it didn't fix the relationship between Angie, Shelley and myself.
Yes, I was thinking about all of this while blowing drying my hair this morning. Then, I smiled.
*I was a bridesmaid in Angie's wedding.
*Shelley just sent me an early birthday gift--clothes from my favorite store.
These two people have been my close friends for over 5 years now. Funny....weird funny....
This year, I'm not even going to pretend to care about the Superbowl. I'm just not into it this year. In fact, I think I'll watch a movie or do something else.
Right now, I'm eating a Jaime Hitch Superbowl cookie. It has little helmet sprinkles on top of Jaime's famous frosting.
I care about the cookie but not the Superbowl. Please don't tell my dad.
Right now, I'm eating a Jaime Hitch Superbowl cookie. It has little helmet sprinkles on top of Jaime's famous frosting.
I care about the cookie but not the Superbowl. Please don't tell my dad.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
The Day The Music Died
Driving into work this morning, the radio faithfully scanned for a good station. The word "died" shot through the speaker and into my ear. I hit the scan button to return to the station. "Did you know the song 'American Pie' is about Buddy Holly?" the disk jockey asked.
I rolled my eyes. Doesn't everyone know that?
Maybe not. After all, I had forgotten the day. How could I! Forgetting February 3 is like forgetting the day Laura Ingalls Wilder released Little House In The Big Woods. People don't just forget. By a small miracle, I was reminded.
I love Buddy Holly's music. It started when I was in 10th grade. After watching La Bamba, I was curious to know more about this guy who, through a stroke of bad luck, charted a plane that killed all three stars and the pilot. I studied Buddy, bought CDs, found a collection of his records...loved him.
He was so young when he died but had accomplished a great deal in such a short time. The Cricket's first hit "That'll Be The Day" wasn't released until 1957. Buddy was dead two short years later.
Here are some facts surrounding Buddy:
*Peggy Sue was written about Jerry Allison's girlfriend (and later ex-wife), NOT Buddy's girlfriend as some would have you believe.
*On "Everyday" the slapping sound you hear is Jerry Allison slapping his legs to the beat of the song. He was doing this during practice and Buddy like the sound so much, they added it in.
*On Peggy Sue, the drums get softer and louder as the engineer opens the door to the room Jerry Allison was in playing drums. Oh, technology...
*There is another song where Jerry Allison plays on a box top but I can't recall which song.
*The day Buddy Holly met Maria Elena in New York City, he took her to dinner and asked her to marry him. She said yes.
*Buddy didn't want to go out on tour but he was cash poor with a baby on the way. He left behind reels of music which were later finished and released.
*Buddy was tired of the bus breaking down so he chartered the plane for his two bandmates, Waylon Jennings and Tommy Allsup. Tommy gave his seat to the Big Bopper. Waylon flipped a quarter over his seat with Ritchie Valens. As the VH1 "Behind The Music" story goes, Buddy teased Waylon for foolishly staying behind. "I hope your bus breaks down," he yelled back to Jennings. "Yeah," Waylon yelled back, "well I hope your plane crashes."
My sister and I went to the place where Buddy played his last concert: The Surf Ball Room in Clear Lake, Iowa. We also trekked out to the site. Really sad. It is in the middle of a corn field (surprise). Three records engraved on a gold guitar.
Two of my friends, Errol and Blaine, are also huge Buddy fans. For the past 5 years, we've been trying to plan a trip to the Surf Ball room because they hold a Winter Dance Party this time every year. Its funny...we start talking about it in the summer but forget and then boom...its February 3rd. Part of the problem is that the place is in Iowa and who wants to travel to Iowa in the winter (or at all)? Too far of a drive. But it seems to creepy to fly. Anyway, I'm going to give those guys a call because next year, Feb. 3rd falls on a weekend so we are going!
I rolled my eyes. Doesn't everyone know that?
Maybe not. After all, I had forgotten the day. How could I! Forgetting February 3 is like forgetting the day Laura Ingalls Wilder released Little House In The Big Woods. People don't just forget. By a small miracle, I was reminded.
I love Buddy Holly's music. It started when I was in 10th grade. After watching La Bamba, I was curious to know more about this guy who, through a stroke of bad luck, charted a plane that killed all three stars and the pilot. I studied Buddy, bought CDs, found a collection of his records...loved him.
He was so young when he died but had accomplished a great deal in such a short time. The Cricket's first hit "That'll Be The Day" wasn't released until 1957. Buddy was dead two short years later.
Here are some facts surrounding Buddy:
*Peggy Sue was written about Jerry Allison's girlfriend (and later ex-wife), NOT Buddy's girlfriend as some would have you believe.
*On "Everyday" the slapping sound you hear is Jerry Allison slapping his legs to the beat of the song. He was doing this during practice and Buddy like the sound so much, they added it in.
*On Peggy Sue, the drums get softer and louder as the engineer opens the door to the room Jerry Allison was in playing drums. Oh, technology...
*There is another song where Jerry Allison plays on a box top but I can't recall which song.
*The day Buddy Holly met Maria Elena in New York City, he took her to dinner and asked her to marry him. She said yes.
*Buddy didn't want to go out on tour but he was cash poor with a baby on the way. He left behind reels of music which were later finished and released.
*Buddy was tired of the bus breaking down so he chartered the plane for his two bandmates, Waylon Jennings and Tommy Allsup. Tommy gave his seat to the Big Bopper. Waylon flipped a quarter over his seat with Ritchie Valens. As the VH1 "Behind The Music" story goes, Buddy teased Waylon for foolishly staying behind. "I hope your bus breaks down," he yelled back to Jennings. "Yeah," Waylon yelled back, "well I hope your plane crashes."
My sister and I went to the place where Buddy played his last concert: The Surf Ball Room in Clear Lake, Iowa. We also trekked out to the site. Really sad. It is in the middle of a corn field (surprise). Three records engraved on a gold guitar.
Two of my friends, Errol and Blaine, are also huge Buddy fans. For the past 5 years, we've been trying to plan a trip to the Surf Ball room because they hold a Winter Dance Party this time every year. Its funny...we start talking about it in the summer but forget and then boom...its February 3rd. Part of the problem is that the place is in Iowa and who wants to travel to Iowa in the winter (or at all)? Too far of a drive. But it seems to creepy to fly. Anyway, I'm going to give those guys a call because next year, Feb. 3rd falls on a weekend so we are going!
Back in the day...
I went to the Holt vs. Grand Ledge dual meet last night at Holt High School. This was the first dual meet I'd attended since my graduation some...Um...10 years ago.... It was a different experience hanging with the crowd because my place was either at the head scoring table or the bench with the team. The fans around me could attest to this fact: I got a little carried away at times. No more than anyone else but....you would have thought I was the team mother.
"Pick the ankle! Bring up the head! Look at the lights! Squeeeeezzzze! Pin him!"
I had yelled at Joey earlier because he was coaching all of the kids under his breath (a little distracting when I was trying to plan my moves). Once Joey started shouting, I was convinced the wrestlers could only hear the two of us. They needed us.
The bright moments were few and in the beginning of the meet. A Holt kid was winning by one point. There were 5 seconds left. The GL kid was trying for a takedown. Simultaneously, as the clock buzzed...the ref gave the GL kid two points for a takedown. The GL kid went nutso, yelling, screaming, jumping for joy, showing off his muscles to the crowd...the poor Holt kid hung his head in shame. But wait! The scorekeeper disputed the call! The ref confered with her. She insisted that the time was up before the ref called the two points! The ref reversed the call and Holt wins the match!!!! Yay!!!!! The Holt kid starts yelling, screaming, jumping for joy...while the GL kid goes nutso, yelling, sreaming, cursing. But hey, if the daughter of Holt's head wrestling coach says the time was up, the time was up.
I had a lot of fun even though Holt got killed. Some things change. I also got to watch the kids wrestle under the light. That is so cool. The kids don't run out to "Buddy you're a boy make a big noise, Playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day, You got mud on yo' face, You big disgrace, Kickin' your can all over the place..." That used to get the crowd and the team going. It's probably considered un-sportsman-like now or something. Booooooo....
Also wanted to mention that I went to Monika's son's basketball game before the wrestling meet. Monika was there with all three boys. They love her so much. I stood in awe of the way she communicates and handles their personalities because all three are so different. Zehlin, who is almost 9, came running off the court after his game. He gave Monika a big kiss and gently rubbed the top of her head. "Good game, brov-a" Griffin tried to tell him. Joey had to pull me out of there because my eyes were welling up. I hope I'm that close with my kids.
"Pick the ankle! Bring up the head! Look at the lights! Squeeeeezzzze! Pin him!"
I had yelled at Joey earlier because he was coaching all of the kids under his breath (a little distracting when I was trying to plan my moves). Once Joey started shouting, I was convinced the wrestlers could only hear the two of us. They needed us.
The bright moments were few and in the beginning of the meet. A Holt kid was winning by one point. There were 5 seconds left. The GL kid was trying for a takedown. Simultaneously, as the clock buzzed...the ref gave the GL kid two points for a takedown. The GL kid went nutso, yelling, screaming, jumping for joy, showing off his muscles to the crowd...the poor Holt kid hung his head in shame. But wait! The scorekeeper disputed the call! The ref confered with her. She insisted that the time was up before the ref called the two points! The ref reversed the call and Holt wins the match!!!! Yay!!!!! The Holt kid starts yelling, screaming, jumping for joy...while the GL kid goes nutso, yelling, sreaming, cursing. But hey, if the daughter of Holt's head wrestling coach says the time was up, the time was up.
I had a lot of fun even though Holt got killed. Some things change. I also got to watch the kids wrestle under the light. That is so cool. The kids don't run out to "Buddy you're a boy make a big noise, Playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day, You got mud on yo' face, You big disgrace, Kickin' your can all over the place..." That used to get the crowd and the team going. It's probably considered un-sportsman-like now or something. Booooooo....
Also wanted to mention that I went to Monika's son's basketball game before the wrestling meet. Monika was there with all three boys. They love her so much. I stood in awe of the way she communicates and handles their personalities because all three are so different. Zehlin, who is almost 9, came running off the court after his game. He gave Monika a big kiss and gently rubbed the top of her head. "Good game, brov-a" Griffin tried to tell him. Joey had to pull me out of there because my eyes were welling up. I hope I'm that close with my kids.
Quiz
I attempt to put quizzes on my site but am not well learned. I'm attempting this again but in case it doesn't work...well, you know I tried. I'm still figuring out how to put the quiz online so all of you who've never even heard of my church can take a stab at the quiz.
This was a quiz to find out which Riverview Pastor you are most like (created by another Riverview Pastor). I laughed at the results because I answered all but three of the questions as "Not at all."
These were the results:
Which Riverview Pastor are you?
created with QuizFarm.com">
This was a quiz to find out which Riverview Pastor you are most like (created by another Riverview Pastor). I laughed at the results because I answered all but three of the questions as "Not at all."
These were the results:
Which Riverview Pastor are you?
created with QuizFarm.com">
You scored as Steve Sommerlot. You actually look younger now that you shaved your head. That still doesn't mean you're good looking. You laugh at yourself...a lot...and so others laugh with you.
Which Riverview Pastor are you? created with QuizFarm.com |
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
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