Even If It Costs Me My Life

From Daughters of Hope by Kay Marshall Strom and Michele Rickett (a book I chose to read as part of my internship requirement):

There are very few Bibles and very little Christian literature available in Tunisia. “It’s so hard for new believers to grow when they don’t have access to the Bible,” Taiza said. “If they can have God’s Word, and also other books and literature, it is such a wonderful help to them.”

“It’s impossible,” she was told when she asked about it. “There aren’t any men who can bring that kind of material in – especially not Bibles. It just can’t be done!”

“But I am doing it,” she told us. “I am securing Bibles for the church and also other materials that will help new Christians to grow.”

“How?” Michele asked her.

“By the grace of God,” she answered.

It was several minutes before our minds began to register what this young woman, this four-year-old Christian, this wife and mother of two toddlers, was risking.

“Taiza,” Kay asked, “if they should realize – if they catch you with those Bibles – Taiza, what would they do to you?”

A smile crossed her face. “I refuse to worry about it,” she answered, “because my job is so very, very important. I am a Christian today because I got hold of a Bible twelve years ago. Do you know what a woman once told me? She said, ‘I’m scared to read the Bible, because if I read it, in the end I may believe in it.’ She was right. She read it, and she believed. That’s why I have to get Bibles into this country. I have to do it even if it costs me my life.”

We watched out the window as Taiza walked down the street with her husband and little children. Her smile never faded.

Going Back to Yesterday

“But there’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”
-Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Isn’t it a wonderful feeling when renewed and utter gratefulness for grace sweeps over you like a flood? Yesterday I was thinking about something I had done that ended up hurting someone. I felt so miserable. The person had forgiven me, but I couldn’t forgive myself. I couldn’t impress the reality of God’s forgiveness into my thick head. I was talking through it with a friend, and processing through the realization that I don’t have to live in the sins and mistakes of the past. I said, “It’s not like I’m walking around with a black mark on my head or something.”

I wasn’t directly relating that statement to the cross, but as I said it, that flood of reality came rushing in and overwhelmed me. I would be walking around with a black mark on my head if it weren’t for Jesus. And I don’t have it anymore. Everything is forgiven. All of it. I don’t have to go back to yesterday and bear the weight of my failures then. I am new in Christ. I can’t even fathom this grace. I am so thankful.

The Heart of Biblical Womanhood

An article I skimmed at Boundless this morning, about the heart of biblical masculinity, made me ponder correspondingly the heart of what it means to be a woman of God. It’s easy to focus on the outer trappings of biblical womanhood, the applications of how it is played out in the home and the family and the church. It’s much too easy to constantly debate over what exactly true femininity looks like. I’ve written before about how passionate I am for biblical womanhood, and that includes appropriate relationship roles and modesty and so much more.

But what is the heart of it all, the impetus for our actions, the wellspring of life lived as a godly woman?

It is, of course, God Himself! Our Father, Savior, Keeper, and sovereign Lord. The reason that we want to dress modestly and marry godly men and honor our husbands (future or current) and submit to male leadership in the church and cultivate our inner beauty is not so that others will look at us and think, “Wow, what an amazing woman! I wish I could be like her!” We want others to look at us and think, “Wow, what an amazing God we have! I want to know Him like she does!”

 And that means that our satisfaction has to be found in Him, that our hearts have to be set on Him, that we have to be drawing our fulfillment and joy from Him, and that the outward trappings of godly womanhood should be the result of joyful obedience to Him, not a shallow desire for the praise of people.

My motives in my striving for “biblical womanhood” are so often completely self-focused. And the results of that kind of mindset are so shallow and worthless. I may have the admiration of others, but if my heart is ugly before God, the whole thing is completely pointless. Satan himself was the most beautiful of the angels, and his resulting pride is the very reason he fell. I pray God will deliver me from grooming myself to be a “godly woman” when all I really want is the adulation of others. What a cunning, deceitful, and heinous sin.

In our strivings after godliness, may our hearts be focused on Him. May we find joy in knowing that His way is the best way, and in bringing Him glory through our obedience and love.

hello, beautiful day

1. I thought I would have to babysit three days this week. I’m only babysitting one afternoon and one evening. During the evening job, the baby will be asleep for most of it.
2. Class was cancelled tonight! I don’t have to give my speech until next week!
3. One test is over. It went fairly well. And although I haven’t started studying for tomorrow’s test yet, once I finish it tomorrow, I will be pretty much home free for the rest of the week.
4. Three friends and I are going to Chicago on Saturday!
5. Fall break starts in two weeks and two days.
6. I’m going to watch Gilmore Girls with Kayla soon. One of her friends has seasons four and five, which are the ones we haven’t seen.
7. I’ve read so many good fiction books lately, in spite of my stress and busyness. I’m reading After the Leaves Fall right now, and it’s so good.
8. Today, this blog entry really blessed me, and those words from 2 Corinthians 4 (near the end of the entry) added immeasurable sweetness to my day.
9. I have wonderful roommates and friends who put up with me and encourage me and tease me.
10. It’s supposed to thunderstorm tomorrow!

the end… for now.

overwhelmed.

I feel like I’m reaching my limit.

I know that’s not true. People all over the world have to handle a lot more than this. I’m incredibly blessed in so many ways. There are trials that make everything I’ve faced in my life pale in comparison.

But in my finite mind, the way it feels is as though I’ve reached the max amount, as though I can’t do anymore. That elusive diploma, that faraway graduation day, seem impossibly out of reach.

I have spent the last week doing almost nothing but work and homework. This weekend has been a seemingly endless effort to prepare for the two tests and speech I have coming up tomorrow and Tuesday. I read 100 pages on Saturday morning, only to find out that I was reading the wrong thing. I had to start over.

Finally, my speech is starting to stick in my head. (I can’t use notes.) And most of my reading is done. But I haven’t studied for either of my tests yet, and I’m almost to the point where I don’t care anymore.

I’m so intimidated by the thought of public speaking. I still am. I can’t deny it. I get so nervous. I don’t want to be nervous. I want to enjoy it and be energized by it. But I feel constantly uneasy until the speech is over with. Yet there are still so many more ahead this semester.

Week five of the longest semester I’ve had so far is about to begin. I pray I can make it. I want to find solace. Between the crinkly pages of my Bible. In the tips of the leaves that are just turning russet. In friendship and laughter and safety and peace. And hope for the future.

The End Is This

Sitting here in this messy room with a weekend of homework ahead of me, I’m trying to remember how I got to this moment. I’m trying to blame someone, anyone but myself, for this inescapable load that’s pressing on my mind.

Maybe it started when I chose to babysit all of those extra hours last week.

Or when I decided to return here for my senior year.

Or when I decided to transfer to this school.

Or when I decided to go to college and study ministry in the first place.

Or when my heart was touched to help orphans and people in need.

Or when I spent all those years in church, where the springs of compassion first welled up in me.

Or when I knelt at my living room couch as a three-year-old, asking Jesus to forgive me for my sins.

Yes, come to think of it, it was that moment that was truly cataclysmic. Jesus has messed me all up since then. He’s reshaped my life. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I’d never come to that moment. The moment I was born, really, for the first time. The beginning of who I am at my core.

And the reason I followed those winding paths that have led me right here where I am at this very moment.

So maybe, in essence, it’s because of Him that I’m here.

Not, of course, that I’m a little behind in my schoolwork.

But it means that He wants me here, in this place, with this test coming up on Monday morning, and this speech coming up on Monday evening, and another test on Tuesday morning.

I’ve done my best to discern His calling, and these are the responsibilities He’s given me for right now.

It makes things a little more weighty. And more freeing, at that. It’s not my life, is it. It’s His. I gave it to Him a long time ago. And He’s not just out there somewhere, glancing at my troubles. No, He’s also right beside me, knowing my fatigue and my fever and my emotional weariness.

You mean… it’s not just all up to me.

What a thought.

And What If I Miss It

I’m confused. My passions for two things are almost at odds with each other, and I don’t know how to combine them. I don’t know how God wants me to combine them.

On the one hand, it’s ministry. People. Refugees. The inner city. Orphans. Social work. Foster kids. Teenage mothers. The unborn.

On the other hand, it’s writing. English. The beauty and intricacy of language. The deeply satisfying effort of putting words on a page.

I have a feeling that neither one is going to pay the bills adequately in the near future. But I can think of a way to go one direction or the other. If I go the ministry direction, I could do a job search and work for a non-profit organization. If I go the writing direction, I could combine the two eventually, but I’d probably have to go to grad school first. And I don’t know how to swing that.

Right now, I know what I really want to do. I want to go to grad school for writing, and work part-time for a non-profit. It’s been crystallizing for weeks.

But I don’t know how that would work.

And I’m not sure where He’s calling me.

I just don’t want to give up, take the easy path, and miss the opportunity.

On Shopping

I’m a girly girl in many ways, but not when it comes to shopping. I don’t mind window shopping, and I love book shopping (even though my wallet sure doesn’t). I don’t even mind shopping alone, especially when I’m not desperately searching for one much-needed item. But I am never going to be a girl who tries to think of a fun activity and comes up with shopping.

And I really despise shopping with other girls/women. I think it’s all those long hours I spent in stores with my indecisive female family members when I was growing up. Girls shop so slowly. They wander along, halting every minute or two to look at something, finger it, debate about color and pattern and whether it’s figure-flattering or whether it would look good with the room decor or whether it’s too expensive or unnecessary or completely perfect in every aspect. They don’t seem to have any sense of the passing time, or of how long we’ve spent under the glaring lights of the department store. They can’t leave until they’re perfectly satisfied with their purchases, and they absolutely cannot decide on one single purchase in anything less than half an hour.

And the worst thing about shopping? I always get so dreadfully thirsty. I don’t know what it is. I should learn to bring water with me.

So, with all that being said, I’m off to go shopping with my lovely friends! Oh, the bitter irony.

The Life and Times of an Alarm Clock

My little battery-operated, digital alarm clock is simultaneously one of my most prized and one of my most loathed possessions. I prize it because it is pretty much the only thing in the world that makes it possible for me to be a good student, by making it to my 10:00 class, and to get enough chapel credits, by making it to 9:00 chapels. I also love it because it has a 4-minute snooze that I can push as many times as I want to, and also because it keeps getting progressively louder until I turn it off or ignore it for what seems like forever.

However, the mere suggestion of that beeping sound from my clock is enough to send shivers down my spine. If I hear a similar sound in a different context, I wince. Each morning I am startled awake by my insistent and importunate timekeeper. I beg the minutes to slow down so I can miraculously have another hour of sleep.

I sleep on the top of a bunk bed, and I keep my alarm clock on my desk across the room. Every morning when it goes off, I jump down and slap the snooze button as quickly as possible, even if I had promised myself not to do so the night before. Sometimes I am still in a coma-like state. This morning I barely remember getting up for the first time. I take the clock back to bed with me so I can push snooze from the comfort of my own pillow.

My poor clock has gotten some harsh treatment. Twice this week I have dropped it down the side of the bed and the batteries have come out. It is a little dinged up in places, and the built-in nightlight no longer works. But it is still dependable for the most part. There is a rare morning here and there when it mysteriously never goes off. But I am never quite sure if that is the clock’s fault, or if I was just unconscious when I turned it off instead of pressing snooze.

Thankfully, I have a backup alarm clock in case I oversleep – my lovely roommate Sarah. She takes it upon herself to make sure that I am awake, because she knows how undependable I am in the morning. This morning I pressed snooze only once – I thought! – after setting my alarm for 7:40 the night before. Suddenly, it was 8:20, and Sarah was waking me up. I was so confused!

What stories could your alarm clock tell about you?

Things I’m Passionate About

One of my blogging quirks is that I get bored of my own layouts really easily. Yesterday Wordpress put out a new theme, and I hopped on board right away because I love a custom header and three columns. What do you think (RSS readers click here if you’d like to see)?

All right, on to the topic of the day. I’ve been disappointed lately with my lack of enjoyment of so many things. I greet life with so much tiredness, so much of the “trying to make it through another day” mentality. A lot of is because of my insomnia problem, lack of discipline so I won’t be physically tired, lack of spiritual renewal.

But I forget that there really are things that I’m passionate about, things that fire me up, things that I speak about with energy and conviction whenever someone brings them up. Here are just two to start with, in no particular order. (This isn’t an exhaustive list. I have a similar, shorter one in my “About” section. But I need to write these for my own sake.)

Reading. Since I was four years old, reading has been an adventure, a delight, an escape, an education… every single day. While college has sucked some of the life out of my reading for personal enjoyment, it has also introduced me to a broader span of literature and Biblical studies. I’ve also been disciplining my own personal reading lately, making sure I’m reading books of value and not only the more frivolous ones. Get me started talking about my favorite books and I could go on for hours. I long to share the joy of literature with others. I think I will always be that girl who takes a book with her almost everywhere, “just in case.”

Biblical manhood and womanhood. This extends to so many areas – complementarian relationships in the church and at home, family structure, dating relationships or courtship, friendships between men and woman, chaste living… and on the flip side, lack of rightness in this area is related to role confusion, feminism, teen pregnancy, abortion, promiscuity, the breakdown of the family, and surface pleasure that’s really a sham. Oh, the heartbreak and craziness that exists in our world today because biblical manhood and womanhood are not understood or adhered to. I am so, so thankful to have had this modeled for me my entire life. It has protected me and guided me in countless ways. I long to share this joy with others, too.