Somewhere, my dad is having a heart attack as he reads this. No, it's not what you think. Children, if we have any, are a long way off. The new member of our family is small, four-footed, and covered in white fur. Her name is Kabegami, and we took her home from the Frederick Country Animal Shelter about a week and a half ago. She's a beautiful flame-point Siamese mix, meaning that she's got cream colored fur which goes to orange on her ears, nose, and tail. She also looks like she's got some orange tabby in her, because her tail has these great stripes.
She's a real sweetheart, too... very shy and cautious when we brought her home from the shelter. Although we had expected that, I think we were a little worried at first that she'd never stop being scared of everything. The shelter said she came from a house with 22 cats, all of whom ended up at the shelter when the owners' home was foreclosed. As a result, she's got some personality quirks. She's very needy... if you ignore her for more than a few minutes, she starts crying like she's been abandoned. It also seems that her previous owners must have scolded her by swatting her, because every time Steve or I scolds her for something (we use a squirt bottle), she always flinches when you try to touch her afterward. Still, she's really opened up as she's gotten used to us, and it turns out she's a total goofball. She's still an attention hog (but then, what cat isn't?), but she keeps us laughing with her antics. She's also very good with strangers—instead of running and hiding when new people come over, she demands their attention as eagerly as she demands ours.
So that's about it... no insight this time around. I'm just happy to have a new member in our family.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Small Lessons
I've got a short story this time, but one which I've been keeping in mind during our big transition. As I mentioned in my last post, our apartment was less than ideal when we first arrived. We're pretty happy with it now, and I'm sure it will suit us well over the next year or two. But as I was in the throes of feeling sorry for myself over it last week, I had an encounter with one of my new neighbors.
This lovely woman is living with her husband directly across the hall from Steve and I, in an apartment which is the mirror image of ours. When Steve and I were still furniture-less and I was feeling pretty bad about the apartment, I ran into this neighbor (I think I went over there to borrow a can opener, actually). Now my neighbor is considerably older and wiser than I am, and probably owned a house before she uprooted herself to come to seminary and move into the apartments here. What I'm trying to say is, she (unlike me) is not in her early twenties and living in her first apartment. She probably has the right to expect a lot more from her living space than I do--keep in mind that the last place I lived was a dorm room. So I went next door to borrow a can opener, and my neighbor began praising her new situation. "These apartments are so great! They really did a good job of using every last inch of space." I admit, I was a bit taken aback. Peering suspiciously into her apartment (Did they get a better apartment than we did? Had we been short-changed?), I said cautiously, "Yeah, they're okay. I don't know about yours, but ours is pretty small." She responded enthusiastically, "Sure, they're small, but we have so much cabinet space! And a coat closet--I love having a coat closet!"
Though she had certainly not meant her comments in this spirit, I felt quite ashamed of myself. What do I have to complain about, after all? We have the space we need, and the rent is really good, and yes, we do have a coat closet. I should be trying to foster the same attitude of enthusiasm and grace my neighbor shows. Perhaps it's grace that comes with age, not a better apartment. And it's these role models who make me really glad I've come here. I have a lot still to learn, and learning often doesn't need or want a classroom. Sometimes all we need is a really good neighbor.
This lovely woman is living with her husband directly across the hall from Steve and I, in an apartment which is the mirror image of ours. When Steve and I were still furniture-less and I was feeling pretty bad about the apartment, I ran into this neighbor (I think I went over there to borrow a can opener, actually). Now my neighbor is considerably older and wiser than I am, and probably owned a house before she uprooted herself to come to seminary and move into the apartments here. What I'm trying to say is, she (unlike me) is not in her early twenties and living in her first apartment. She probably has the right to expect a lot more from her living space than I do--keep in mind that the last place I lived was a dorm room. So I went next door to borrow a can opener, and my neighbor began praising her new situation. "These apartments are so great! They really did a good job of using every last inch of space." I admit, I was a bit taken aback. Peering suspiciously into her apartment (Did they get a better apartment than we did? Had we been short-changed?), I said cautiously, "Yeah, they're okay. I don't know about yours, but ours is pretty small." She responded enthusiastically, "Sure, they're small, but we have so much cabinet space! And a coat closet--I love having a coat closet!"
Though she had certainly not meant her comments in this spirit, I felt quite ashamed of myself. What do I have to complain about, after all? We have the space we need, and the rent is really good, and yes, we do have a coat closet. I should be trying to foster the same attitude of enthusiasm and grace my neighbor shows. Perhaps it's grace that comes with age, not a better apartment. And it's these role models who make me really glad I've come here. I have a lot still to learn, and learning often doesn't need or want a classroom. Sometimes all we need is a really good neighbor.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Moving
As promised, a rundown of the moving process, now that things have finally come together here in our new apartment.
Steve and I got a moving cube through ABF shipping--the company drops it off at your house, you load it up, they move it for you. Our cube was delivered last Tuesday, and of course it was delivered three hours late. We were only able to start loading around 1:30 in the afternoon, finished around 3:00, and then had several other errands to run. In the end, we left Santa Fe at 5:30 in the evening and still drove five hours, which took us to Vega, Texas.
Wednesday was a long driving day on I-40 and then I-44 all the way through Oklahoma and Missouri. We stopped just outside of St. Louis Wednesday night. Thursday we went across Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, stopping in western Pennsylvania. Then Friday we just had a short three hour trek into Gettysburg.
When we arrived, our apartment was... well, perhaps the best word for it is depressing. It's quite small, but we knew it would be; the real problem is how blindingly unattractive it is. The design style for the apartment is something like country rustic meets seventies, which is a problem when Steve likes Asian decorating styles and I like New Mexican. The carpet is green. If you're designing an apartment which will see many tenants over the years, wouldn't you put in a neutral color of carpeting? Maybe? Likewise with the hideous blue-green tile in the bathroom. To walk in the door of the apartment and see literally nothing but green carpet, blue-green tile, and fake wood cabinets was hard on the psyche.
Since then, it's been nonstop work for us. We've made two trips down the Baltimore (an hour and a half drive) to get to the nearest IKEA store to buy furniture. (If it weren't already obvious that this is our first apartment, that would give it away.) It seems that every day we come up with some day-long project that sends us wandering over the countryside of south-central Pennsylvania and Maryland. One big project was buying a mattress and box spring (no bed frame as yet), which was a high priority since we were sleeping on the floor until then. On Monday, we rented a U-Haul and went to pick up our things from the moving cube, and the boxes are finally all unpacked. That means we actually have pots and pans to cook on in our kitchen, and a bed to sleep in. After our most recent trip to IKEA and a long night of furniture building and rearranging, the apartment is finally coming together. We covered up a large portion of the carpet with an area rug, bought a lamp to lighten up the room, and a few pieces of furniture to make it more livable. Once we get curtains over the windows and pictures on the walls, it should be just about perfect.
Classes start after Labor Day, since we're not doing summer Greek with the other new students. Coming up soon: getting a cat and buying books for class. Stay tuned!
Steve and I got a moving cube through ABF shipping--the company drops it off at your house, you load it up, they move it for you. Our cube was delivered last Tuesday, and of course it was delivered three hours late. We were only able to start loading around 1:30 in the afternoon, finished around 3:00, and then had several other errands to run. In the end, we left Santa Fe at 5:30 in the evening and still drove five hours, which took us to Vega, Texas.
Wednesday was a long driving day on I-40 and then I-44 all the way through Oklahoma and Missouri. We stopped just outside of St. Louis Wednesday night. Thursday we went across Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, stopping in western Pennsylvania. Then Friday we just had a short three hour trek into Gettysburg.
When we arrived, our apartment was... well, perhaps the best word for it is depressing. It's quite small, but we knew it would be; the real problem is how blindingly unattractive it is. The design style for the apartment is something like country rustic meets seventies, which is a problem when Steve likes Asian decorating styles and I like New Mexican. The carpet is green. If you're designing an apartment which will see many tenants over the years, wouldn't you put in a neutral color of carpeting? Maybe? Likewise with the hideous blue-green tile in the bathroom. To walk in the door of the apartment and see literally nothing but green carpet, blue-green tile, and fake wood cabinets was hard on the psyche.
Since then, it's been nonstop work for us. We've made two trips down the Baltimore (an hour and a half drive) to get to the nearest IKEA store to buy furniture. (If it weren't already obvious that this is our first apartment, that would give it away.) It seems that every day we come up with some day-long project that sends us wandering over the countryside of south-central Pennsylvania and Maryland. One big project was buying a mattress and box spring (no bed frame as yet), which was a high priority since we were sleeping on the floor until then. On Monday, we rented a U-Haul and went to pick up our things from the moving cube, and the boxes are finally all unpacked. That means we actually have pots and pans to cook on in our kitchen, and a bed to sleep in. After our most recent trip to IKEA and a long night of furniture building and rearranging, the apartment is finally coming together. We covered up a large portion of the carpet with an area rug, bought a lamp to lighten up the room, and a few pieces of furniture to make it more livable. Once we get curtains over the windows and pictures on the walls, it should be just about perfect.
Classes start after Labor Day, since we're not doing summer Greek with the other new students. Coming up soon: getting a cat and buying books for class. Stay tuned!
Monday, August 11, 2008
Miracles
I know I said I would talk about moving in this post, but I decided to put it off. I'll talk about moving later. Right now, I want to talk about something more interesting. I'm back now from Invitation to Service. It was just what I needed. It was a great experience, as always, and I'm really glad I got the chance to recharge.
I wanted to share with all of you some stories I got to hear at ITS this year, and the line of thinking I've been on since I heard them. This post will be rather long as a result, but bear with me. The first story is from our speaker this year, Pastor Glen Egertson. He talked about being a college student and being moved, one day as he was driving home, to pray, "God, I'm available. Use me." Just a few moments later, he saw a broken-down VW on the side of the road, and he knew how to fix VWs. So he pulled over, helped the person get their car running again, and sent them on their way. A few years later, he told the story to some Christian friends on a camping trip, and they decided to pray the same prayer as a group: "God, we are available. Use us." On the drive home from their camping trip, they saw an old man with a broken-down VW bus in the middle of the desert. Again, they pulled over, helped him fix his bus, and sent him on his way. Pastor Glen said that as he watched that old man drive straight into the setting sun, he was reminded of the passage from Hebrews: "Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some have unknowingly entertained angels." And he told us a third time, when he prayed the same prayer, and had the same experience.
The second story is a bit more exciting. This one is from Pastor Steve Beckham, who leads ITS each year, and who also happens to be the pastor who married Steve and I. We had just heard this reading from Matthew 25: "Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.' Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?' The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' " I'll tell his story the way I heard it, from his point of view.
"When I was a seminary student, I was writing a paper late one night about Matthew 25. I was writing about this passage, where Christ says, whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me. In my paper, I was saying, 'What if Christ means this literally? What if Christ really plays hide and seek with us in the hungry and the poor? What if the person you meet on the street asking for money is literally Jesus? Would that change the way you reacted?' As I was writing this paper, I started having huge cravings for chocolate. I kept telling myself to just keep working, finish the paper and go to bed, but I couldn't ignore these cravings. There wasn't a speck of chocolate in my whole apartment. So I'm thinking to myself, where can I get chocolate at this hour of the night? Well, the 7-eleven down the street is open, they probably have some kind of chocolate. So I got in my car, because it's Berkeley and I didn't really want to walk at night in Berkeley, even though it was only half a block, and drove over to the 7-eleven.
"When I got there, there was a man waiting just outside the door. He was obviously a bum, and I thought, 'He's going to ask me for money, what am I going to give him?' My friend and I used to carry around rolls of nickels, because there are so many panhandlers in Berkeley, and everybody asks for money. Christ says you should give to all who ask, so we would carry around rolls of nickels so we could give a little something to every person. But in my rush to get out and get some chocolate, I had left the roll back at my apartment. So I open up my wallet and look to see what I have. I've got two ones and a twenty. I don't want to break the twenty to buy chocolate, and I'm sure as heck not giving him the twenty. Remember that I'm in the middle of writing a paper about meeting Jesus in disguise. So I get out of my car and I'm walking through the door and I hear the guy say something. I say, 'I'm sorry, I don't have anything to give you.' He replies, 'No. I wasn't asking for anything. I just said I hope you find what you're looking for.' And I say, 'Oh! Well... me too.'
"I go into the store and I'm looking at the candy section. It's pretty depressing. I turn around to go, and there next to the counter is a display of dark chocolate Reese's cups, two for two dollars. I grab two of them, pay, and start walking out again. As I pass the man outside the door, I hear him say something again. Again, I say, 'I don't have anything to give you.' He says, 'I wasn't asking for money. I just said I hope you found what you were looking for.' I say, 'Thank you, I did.'
"I get into my car and I'm thinking about this man, what he said, and my idea about Jesus literally meeting us in the form of the poor and the hungry. I really want to give this guy something. I look down at the chocolate I'm holding, and I get back out of my car. I go up to him and say, 'Listen, I've got two of these packs. Do you want one?' He replies, 'No, I don't need a whole package. But I'll share one with you.' I open up the package and take out two of the four Reese's cups and offer them to him. He says, 'No, I will share one with you.' He takes one of the Reese's cups, says, 'Thank you,' and breaks it in half. As he offers the other half to me he says, 'Things are better when you share, aren't they?' "
Pastor Steve ended his story by saying, "If Jesus really does play hide and seek with us through the hungry, the poor, the imprisoned, don't you just think he'd do something like share communion with you with chocolate?"
Hearing Pastor Glen and Pastor Steve's stories got me thinking. We think of miracles as pretty flashy things--angels descending, the bush burning but not consumed, the virgin birth, the heavens opening, the temple curtain tearing, and so on. Certainly all of those examples from the Bible are miraculous; but we don't often see things like that happening today. Does that mean there aren't miracles anymore? I say no. What if miracles are happening all the time? What if we encounter them every day, but we're often not in a position to recognize them? Is a broken-down car on the side of the road a miracle? It could be, if it's the answer to a prayer. Is a man breaking a piece of chocolate in half a miracle? It could be, if everything done to the least person is done also to Christ.
What if, every single day, we are experiencing miracles? If I walk past a stranger on the street and smile, that could be a miracle. If a person in the midst of stress and frustration finds the strength to still be selfless and faithful, that could be a miracle. Miracles are God's interaction with the world, but He can act in very simple ways that are easy for us to miss if we're not looking for them. God is touching each of our lives every day. I think that the practice of faith and prayer does not cause those miracles to happen, but rather makes us more aware of them. If we open our eyes to see those miracles, we can find them all around us.
I wanted to share with all of you some stories I got to hear at ITS this year, and the line of thinking I've been on since I heard them. This post will be rather long as a result, but bear with me. The first story is from our speaker this year, Pastor Glen Egertson. He talked about being a college student and being moved, one day as he was driving home, to pray, "God, I'm available. Use me." Just a few moments later, he saw a broken-down VW on the side of the road, and he knew how to fix VWs. So he pulled over, helped the person get their car running again, and sent them on their way. A few years later, he told the story to some Christian friends on a camping trip, and they decided to pray the same prayer as a group: "God, we are available. Use us." On the drive home from their camping trip, they saw an old man with a broken-down VW bus in the middle of the desert. Again, they pulled over, helped him fix his bus, and sent him on his way. Pastor Glen said that as he watched that old man drive straight into the setting sun, he was reminded of the passage from Hebrews: "Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some have unknowingly entertained angels." And he told us a third time, when he prayed the same prayer, and had the same experience.
The second story is a bit more exciting. This one is from Pastor Steve Beckham, who leads ITS each year, and who also happens to be the pastor who married Steve and I. We had just heard this reading from Matthew 25: "Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.' Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?' The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' " I'll tell his story the way I heard it, from his point of view.
"When I was a seminary student, I was writing a paper late one night about Matthew 25. I was writing about this passage, where Christ says, whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me. In my paper, I was saying, 'What if Christ means this literally? What if Christ really plays hide and seek with us in the hungry and the poor? What if the person you meet on the street asking for money is literally Jesus? Would that change the way you reacted?' As I was writing this paper, I started having huge cravings for chocolate. I kept telling myself to just keep working, finish the paper and go to bed, but I couldn't ignore these cravings. There wasn't a speck of chocolate in my whole apartment. So I'm thinking to myself, where can I get chocolate at this hour of the night? Well, the 7-eleven down the street is open, they probably have some kind of chocolate. So I got in my car, because it's Berkeley and I didn't really want to walk at night in Berkeley, even though it was only half a block, and drove over to the 7-eleven.
"When I got there, there was a man waiting just outside the door. He was obviously a bum, and I thought, 'He's going to ask me for money, what am I going to give him?' My friend and I used to carry around rolls of nickels, because there are so many panhandlers in Berkeley, and everybody asks for money. Christ says you should give to all who ask, so we would carry around rolls of nickels so we could give a little something to every person. But in my rush to get out and get some chocolate, I had left the roll back at my apartment. So I open up my wallet and look to see what I have. I've got two ones and a twenty. I don't want to break the twenty to buy chocolate, and I'm sure as heck not giving him the twenty. Remember that I'm in the middle of writing a paper about meeting Jesus in disguise. So I get out of my car and I'm walking through the door and I hear the guy say something. I say, 'I'm sorry, I don't have anything to give you.' He replies, 'No. I wasn't asking for anything. I just said I hope you find what you're looking for.' And I say, 'Oh! Well... me too.'
"I go into the store and I'm looking at the candy section. It's pretty depressing. I turn around to go, and there next to the counter is a display of dark chocolate Reese's cups, two for two dollars. I grab two of them, pay, and start walking out again. As I pass the man outside the door, I hear him say something again. Again, I say, 'I don't have anything to give you.' He says, 'I wasn't asking for money. I just said I hope you found what you were looking for.' I say, 'Thank you, I did.'
"I get into my car and I'm thinking about this man, what he said, and my idea about Jesus literally meeting us in the form of the poor and the hungry. I really want to give this guy something. I look down at the chocolate I'm holding, and I get back out of my car. I go up to him and say, 'Listen, I've got two of these packs. Do you want one?' He replies, 'No, I don't need a whole package. But I'll share one with you.' I open up the package and take out two of the four Reese's cups and offer them to him. He says, 'No, I will share one with you.' He takes one of the Reese's cups, says, 'Thank you,' and breaks it in half. As he offers the other half to me he says, 'Things are better when you share, aren't they?' "
Pastor Steve ended his story by saying, "If Jesus really does play hide and seek with us through the hungry, the poor, the imprisoned, don't you just think he'd do something like share communion with you with chocolate?"
Hearing Pastor Glen and Pastor Steve's stories got me thinking. We think of miracles as pretty flashy things--angels descending, the bush burning but not consumed, the virgin birth, the heavens opening, the temple curtain tearing, and so on. Certainly all of those examples from the Bible are miraculous; but we don't often see things like that happening today. Does that mean there aren't miracles anymore? I say no. What if miracles are happening all the time? What if we encounter them every day, but we're often not in a position to recognize them? Is a broken-down car on the side of the road a miracle? It could be, if it's the answer to a prayer. Is a man breaking a piece of chocolate in half a miracle? It could be, if everything done to the least person is done also to Christ.
What if, every single day, we are experiencing miracles? If I walk past a stranger on the street and smile, that could be a miracle. If a person in the midst of stress and frustration finds the strength to still be selfless and faithful, that could be a miracle. Miracles are God's interaction with the world, but He can act in very simple ways that are easy for us to miss if we're not looking for them. God is touching each of our lives every day. I think that the practice of faith and prayer does not cause those miracles to happen, but rather makes us more aware of them. If we open our eyes to see those miracles, we can find them all around us.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Invitation to Service (and a call story)
In spite of my upcoming move, which is coming up terrifyingly soon, I have one major event still standing between me and that undertaking: my annual pilgrimage to Invitation to Service.
Invitation to Service, as those who know a bit of my history will remember, is a three-day retreat held each year at California Lutheran University. This year will be my seventh straight year at ITS, and my fifth as a counselor. I first attended ITS the summer after my sophomore year in high school on the recommendation of the AIM (Associate in Ministry) at my home church. To understand why she suggested it to me, we must go back a little farther in my story.
When I was a sophomore in high school, a number of events came together to become my first call to ordained ministry. That fall, I was confirmed in the Lutheran church. In itself, that was not such a momentous experience; I, like many of my classmates, had suffered through confirmation classes, my parents telling me time and again that I had to go through the classes and retreats even if I didn't want to. I got through all the requirements and was prepared to be confirmed on Reformation Sunday (the last Sunday in October). I still remember my thoughts in the week leading up to that Sunday: "Uh-oh. I'm in trouble now. I didn't pay attention through all those classes, and now they're going to confirm me and make me an adult in the church. I don't know a thing!" It was then that I finally began to take my faith seriously and to realize the responsibility I was taking on by being confirmed. After that, things started to happen for me. With the new year came two big changes: I was elected to church council as the youth representative (the start of two long years of those infamous church council meetings), and I started the Education for Ministry (EfM) program. Those experiences can be left for another post; the point is, I was getting serious about the church and about my faith. Around the same time, my high school English class read "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" by Jonathan Edwards. Our assignment was to write a response to that sermon as if we had been in the congregation hearing it preached. I don't remember now what I wrote, except that it was pretty well rooted in the Lutheran ideas of grace (something had sunk in from all those confirmation classes, after all), and that I showed it to my father. He told me he thought it was good and suggested I show it to my pastor. Now, I didn't really want to talk to my pastor about my English homework, so I typed up a copy and left it in his box. A few days later, he called my house (not an unusual occurance, as my mother was church treasurer in those days) and asked to speak to me. I vividly remember cradling the phone against my shoulder as I was doing dishes and saying, "Hello?" Without any introduction or greeting, he said, "When are you going to seminary?" I think my response was, "I'm not going to seminary!" But from that day forward, the idea was planted in my mind.
Now we can go back to Invitation to Service. As I said, the AIM at my church knew that I was thinking about ministry, so she gave me the flyer and suggested I attend the event. Invitation to Service is a retreat dedicated to helping high school youth (and others, old and young) learn about different ways to serve God and hear God's call for them. It was quite a trek, flying into LAX by myself and then getting a shuttle up to Thousand Oaks. I arrived at ITS with a question in my heart: "Am I really supposed to go to seminary? Is ministry really for me?" By the time I flew home three days later, I had the answer; it was a resounding "YES." I also had made a lot of new friends, including a guy my age named Steve. He and I exchanged emails and promised to stay in touch. Steve and I have gone back to ITS every year; this year, we might actually get a room together, since we were married this summer.
Invitation to Service is a remarkable event, led by even more remarkable people. If you don't want to take my word for it, you can watch the promotional video. It's only three days, but that time is packed with music, worship, lessons, prayer, and not a small dose of fun. The highlight of the weekend is the hike up Mount Clef (as a child of the Rockies, I'm obligated to say that it's not a mountain, it's a hill) to hear Pastor Steve Beckham's call story. I would recommend ITS to anyone thinking about ministry of any sort (music ministry, nursing, teaching, chaplaincy, etc). For me, it's a chance to refocus, to center myself in God and remember what I'm working for. By the time July ends, I'm always desperately in need of that reenergizing. This year is no exception. Even though we'll be coming back from ITS on Sunday and leaving for Gettysburg on Tuesday (terrible timing!), I'm looking forward to the event.
I probably won't post again before I get back from ITS, but I'll let you all know how it goes. Also in my next post: moving!
Invitation to Service, as those who know a bit of my history will remember, is a three-day retreat held each year at California Lutheran University. This year will be my seventh straight year at ITS, and my fifth as a counselor. I first attended ITS the summer after my sophomore year in high school on the recommendation of the AIM (Associate in Ministry) at my home church. To understand why she suggested it to me, we must go back a little farther in my story.
When I was a sophomore in high school, a number of events came together to become my first call to ordained ministry. That fall, I was confirmed in the Lutheran church. In itself, that was not such a momentous experience; I, like many of my classmates, had suffered through confirmation classes, my parents telling me time and again that I had to go through the classes and retreats even if I didn't want to. I got through all the requirements and was prepared to be confirmed on Reformation Sunday (the last Sunday in October). I still remember my thoughts in the week leading up to that Sunday: "Uh-oh. I'm in trouble now. I didn't pay attention through all those classes, and now they're going to confirm me and make me an adult in the church. I don't know a thing!" It was then that I finally began to take my faith seriously and to realize the responsibility I was taking on by being confirmed. After that, things started to happen for me. With the new year came two big changes: I was elected to church council as the youth representative (the start of two long years of those infamous church council meetings), and I started the Education for Ministry (EfM) program. Those experiences can be left for another post; the point is, I was getting serious about the church and about my faith. Around the same time, my high school English class read "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" by Jonathan Edwards. Our assignment was to write a response to that sermon as if we had been in the congregation hearing it preached. I don't remember now what I wrote, except that it was pretty well rooted in the Lutheran ideas of grace (something had sunk in from all those confirmation classes, after all), and that I showed it to my father. He told me he thought it was good and suggested I show it to my pastor. Now, I didn't really want to talk to my pastor about my English homework, so I typed up a copy and left it in his box. A few days later, he called my house (not an unusual occurance, as my mother was church treasurer in those days) and asked to speak to me. I vividly remember cradling the phone against my shoulder as I was doing dishes and saying, "Hello?" Without any introduction or greeting, he said, "When are you going to seminary?" I think my response was, "I'm not going to seminary!" But from that day forward, the idea was planted in my mind.
Now we can go back to Invitation to Service. As I said, the AIM at my church knew that I was thinking about ministry, so she gave me the flyer and suggested I attend the event. Invitation to Service is a retreat dedicated to helping high school youth (and others, old and young) learn about different ways to serve God and hear God's call for them. It was quite a trek, flying into LAX by myself and then getting a shuttle up to Thousand Oaks. I arrived at ITS with a question in my heart: "Am I really supposed to go to seminary? Is ministry really for me?" By the time I flew home three days later, I had the answer; it was a resounding "YES." I also had made a lot of new friends, including a guy my age named Steve. He and I exchanged emails and promised to stay in touch. Steve and I have gone back to ITS every year; this year, we might actually get a room together, since we were married this summer.
Invitation to Service is a remarkable event, led by even more remarkable people. If you don't want to take my word for it, you can watch the promotional video. It's only three days, but that time is packed with music, worship, lessons, prayer, and not a small dose of fun. The highlight of the weekend is the hike up Mount Clef (as a child of the Rockies, I'm obligated to say that it's not a mountain, it's a hill) to hear Pastor Steve Beckham's call story. I would recommend ITS to anyone thinking about ministry of any sort (music ministry, nursing, teaching, chaplaincy, etc). For me, it's a chance to refocus, to center myself in God and remember what I'm working for. By the time July ends, I'm always desperately in need of that reenergizing. This year is no exception. Even though we'll be coming back from ITS on Sunday and leaving for Gettysburg on Tuesday (terrible timing!), I'm looking forward to the event.
I probably won't post again before I get back from ITS, but I'll let you all know how it goes. Also in my next post: moving!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Prayer
This time around, I have a very cliche statement to make, but one which I'm appreciating the truth of right now. God answers prayer. Really.
For people with an active prayer life, I'm sure this is quite obvious. For people who don't have an active prayer life, for whatever reason, it's a hard pill to swallow. I'm sorry to say that I more often fall into the second category than the first. I tend to forget to pray, forget how important it is to keep God in my life. And then I forget how powerful prayer can be. After a while, I start to wonder why everything is so difficult and why I feel like I can't do anything on my own. Fortunately, that's when I remember the answer: I can't do anything on my own, and I'm not supposed to be able to.
That's when I turn back to prayer. I've just been through this experience yet again, and I'm sure I'll go through it many more times before I really learn to keep prayer in my daily life. Last night, things got to the point that I found myself weeping, feeling completely powerless to stand up to the challenges facing me. In my weakness, I finally remembered to pray. I asked God for the strength to deal with my troubles, and immediately-- in that very moment-- I felt the weight lifted from my shoulders. God was truly watching over me, and as soon as I asked for help, He gave me not only strength, but the peace of mind I so desperately needed. It was a powerful reminder of my true source of strength.
Now, I pray, I'll be able to remember better.
For people with an active prayer life, I'm sure this is quite obvious. For people who don't have an active prayer life, for whatever reason, it's a hard pill to swallow. I'm sorry to say that I more often fall into the second category than the first. I tend to forget to pray, forget how important it is to keep God in my life. And then I forget how powerful prayer can be. After a while, I start to wonder why everything is so difficult and why I feel like I can't do anything on my own. Fortunately, that's when I remember the answer: I can't do anything on my own, and I'm not supposed to be able to.
That's when I turn back to prayer. I've just been through this experience yet again, and I'm sure I'll go through it many more times before I really learn to keep prayer in my daily life. Last night, things got to the point that I found myself weeping, feeling completely powerless to stand up to the challenges facing me. In my weakness, I finally remembered to pray. I asked God for the strength to deal with my troubles, and immediately-- in that very moment-- I felt the weight lifted from my shoulders. God was truly watching over me, and as soon as I asked for help, He gave me not only strength, but the peace of mind I so desperately needed. It was a powerful reminder of my true source of strength.
Now, I pray, I'll be able to remember better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
