Let God Arise

Tomorrow (aka today since I can't seem to get my butt to bed) is going to mark a milestone in my life....I'm leading a possibly large group of people in prayer. I've given presentations a million times and been on stage in dramas, but this is scary for me. I know that God has called me to preach to the prodigals, but this is the first time I've had the chance to put it into practice. I'm afraid of doing something wrong--somehow not honoring God as He deserves to be honored....but maybe that's the wrong focus. Maybe, just maybe, the act of humbling myself to get up there and chance that possibility of imperfection is how God wants to be honored. Maybe it's poetic justice that the prayer supports a lesson about getting in line with becoming who God desires to use for His glory.

Let God arise.

Download Festival 2007

Bang Camaro (20 guys on stage)







Band of Horses











Lap steel goodness (check the video)

I'm going to bed...

...but be prepared for another post tomorrow, regaling you with photos and videos from the Download Festival. It was nothing short of awesome.

Now I must ignore the neighbors being loud on their back porch (a downside of attempting to sleep on a city summer weekend night) and go to bed. I am completely freaking exhausted.

I Was A Church Drop-out

Hi. My name is Jen and I was a church drop-out. (Everybody now: "Hi Jen.")

I never recognized this fact until today. I was on the tail end of a 2-day collegiate fall planning meeting and we were talking about a recent study concerning the reasons why people 18-22 drop out of church. In the middle of that data fest (that I truly enjoyed, I might add), I discovered that I once met the criteria to be defined as a church dropout. And here I am, now ministering through an institution I once eschewed. Is that ironic?

Once I got over the initial shock of it all, I began to press into processing the richness of what God might want to teach me in this. Some big questions rose to the surface: what differentiates the church from on-campus/parachurch ministries; do college students really desire to seek community from the church (is that a motivating factor for them to attend); and, essentially, what is church?

These are questions that will not be answered in a matter of minutes or days. There's a lot of prayer and reading that will be put into these first things. But seriously, isn't this something that must be done before moving forward? This is the beginnings of a philosophy of ministry.

Dang. That's scary.

To See Things as They Really Are -or- Life After a Raspberry Mojito

Doing life with people is ramshackle and difficult. It's messy and confusing. But it can be beautiful, true, and God-in-flesh. It felt like this week was much more full of the former rather than the latter, but when I sit back and examine it, there were both huge highs and lows.

Some moments at work, dealing with a difficult parent and child, just tore me up emotionally. But sitting back on the other side of my week-ending, perfect raspberry mojito, I can see how God just screamed His glory through that situation, community caring for a member in need, my parent's visit, persistent prayers of a community, time with a friend, and a glimpse deeper into who He desires someone to be.

God, You are just SO big. I beg that You would allow me to see with Your eyes all those things that I disregard or wrongfully place in the column of negative experiences. Deepen my love for You and Your people.

Weary

Today was one of those long days that started out with bizarre, frustrating traffic early in the morning and just kept going. I felt off-kilter all day long and really had to fight for focus on the right things. It was one of those battle days that leave you exhausted in body and spirit. God, I need a deep drink of You right now.

Freedom

I had dinner with one of my roommates last night and she said something that I've been processing for the last 24 hours. She has some South Korean friends that believe that unity with North Korea will provide the best way for the gospel to move forward there. When pressed about the terms by which this unification would take place, even to the point of South Korea coming under the regime of Kim Jong-il and his policies, the Korean Christians were willing to give it all up for the sake of the cause of Christ.

My roommate and I sat and thought about the profundity of sacrifice that we perceive that to be. In America, where freedom is prized above all else, what has that freedom afforded us where Christianity is concerned? Has it made the gospel spread or has it lent itself to idleness, debauchery, and pressing farther away from God as a nation? Has the American Church become so diluted because of freedom? What does freedom mean in light of Philippians 2:1-11 for us and those Korean believers?

I know these are dangerous questions and ones to be pondered much longer than a day. Know that I'm coming from a perspective of a person who went to a very politically conservative Christian college, listens to talk radio, and usually votes Republican. Also know that I'm not quick to draw causation from isolated information.

All I know is I want to be more like Christ and who He sees me as. If that means rending all that I understand about what it means to be an American, then I must do it. I'm seeing more and more that viewing ourselves as a chosen nation is simply pompous.

Thankful Heart

I just enjoyed a really good Saturday, full of a random trip to Nantasket beach and yummy dinner with girlfriends. It was a really good day of taking the scenic drive to Hull, giving a tour of the South Shore to a native of Martha's Vineyard. It was pretty sweet seeing the tide roll in to completely swallow up the beach we were once laying on. We had some fantastic ice cream which we ate while watching crazy people play in the chilly breaking waves. Then it was off to a homemade dinner in Mission Hill with some lovely ladies. We shared books, conversation, music, a few beers, and God made Himself known.

Thanks Michelle and Carissa. Thanks God, for answering that prayer.

FastLane

You all know what I'm talking about...those "self-service" check-out kiosks that are now found everywhere from WalMart to Home Depot to the big grocery store chains. I really hate these things. I had a run-in with one just now that reminded me how annoyed I get with them. I won't even look at one at Home Depot since the thing will automatically start spurting out some error message once it detects my gaze.

Anyway, I had a weak moment at Shaw's tonight while picking up some yummy Dove ice cream (chocolate ganache!!) to nosh on while I listen to Joey's late night radio show. I just had the one thing, so you know, the self-service deal would be faster, right?

The answer is: No. First off, I waited for about 3-4 minutes for these women who were chatty Cathies to get through with their dueling purchases so another woman and I could use the adjacent machines. That was just a poor choice of venue on my part. Then it was my turn at checkout #14. I swipe my "rewards" card (aka you better use this or your groceries will cost twice the GDP of Nicaragua) and get some error about an 'unknown' item. I swipe it again. Same error. I figure I can ignore this and swipe the ice cream. Ice cream rings up ok. I press the button to finish. Swipe rewards card. It miraculously works this time. I get my debit card ready to go to make it all legal. THEN... You need assistance due to the 'unknown' item. Are there any employees manning the 6 self-service deals? No. Of course not. So I stand there, with red light blinking above said kiosk, frozen with debit card in hand, wondering if the ganache is worth this technological glitch. I stick it out, looking in vain for assistance. Finally a kindly elderly stocker sees some combination of my helpless expression and the blinking crimson orb and gets the attention of the "big shots" (his term). I fork over the funds (electronically, of course) and leave the store about 10 minutes later than I'd wanted to.

Moral: avoid the self-service line. Stop being an American for once and let someone else whom you already pay and who might know what they're doing take care of it for you.

Now, time for that Caramel Pecan Perfection....

The Pity Party is Over

I have officially landed in bad-attitude land. I want nothing more today than to sit on my butt in my pjs and do NOTHING at all, except maybe watch Lost for hours on end. My head hurts, I'm exhausted, and I would rather not teach autistic children for 4 hours this afternoon. I want to sleep and complain. I want to be completely unproductive. I want to not do the several various paperworky tasks that I'm either behind on or just avoiding. ARGH.

I am so lame. Just by the mere fact that I'm complaining about this stuff shows just how lame I am. Millions of people around the world never get a day of not working (aka weekend), let alone national holidays, or even jobs that can support them without working 12 hours (or more) a day. Those people struggle to feed themselves while my friends and I sat noshing next to a river for most of yesterday without even a second thought.

Life is just not a bed of roses today, but sometimes I've just got to fight for joy--to see the glimmer of hope, redemption, and resurrection that's told in every story, in every moment. That's my mission in life as an ambassador for Christ. Maybe missions is just about being that watcher who translates moments of pain, or exhaustion, or darkness, into hope.

Today I need to translate for myself.

Heart and Home

This was one of those nearly perfect weekends, filled with activity to the point of sweet exhaustion. I did more in the last three days than one can imagine, all the while renewing my love for a city that rarely fails to take my breath away. Renewing a passionate first love through the eyes of someone experiencing that love at first sight was pure breath into my lungs.

There's so many bits of this weekend that were God's hand at work, from the perfectly sunny nearly humidity-free 70s temperatures, to a 24-hr flight delay, to humbling mistakes, to missed Sox game shuttles, to late night conversations. I am thankful He was present here in every moment, even the ones that weren't "perfect" or holy. Those things were all knit together for our good and His glory.

God, thank you for people that love and surround me that respond to Your urging and voice. Thank you for opening a heart. Thank you for words You gave me to speak. Thank you for the humility You brought at the beginning to make those words possible. God, You are so good.

Cherish

Waking up at 4:30am today reminds me how much I love sleep...and how much I miss when I do sleep. I forget how much of this city is up and around before 6am. I saw a 7 year old girl out on her Razor scooter at 6:30 this morning. But then, isn't there just as much activity at 1am, when I like to be awake?

Scrap of Paper

Moving into a new place for me doesn't necessarily mean that I cleared out the old stuff sufficiently. That reality has been borne out by the 4 random cardboard boxes lurking in the corner of my room. Inhabiting those boxes are hair cut magazines, my old Florida license plate, many, many cable wires and extension cords, and other sundry items. My goal today is to clear all that stuff out, or at least fit the stuff that doesn't go anywhere into the smallest box.

In this organizational quest, I ran across something that I wrote nearly 2 years ago. Scribbled on a half sheet of paper, one half once carrying a Diet Coke coupon and the other side a printed out listing of Delta flights to Boston via Fort Walton Beach. This is old stuff. I clearly remember writing this poem as I sat on the steps of Park Street Church, at the crossroads of this pedestrian city. I remember the sounds, the people, and that I looked at Beacon Hill apartments that day. I wrote as I waited to be picked up by Stacey to have dinner with her, Anne, Doug, Shelley, Emily (and Pete) at Doug's place in Somerville.

About 3 lifetimes have passed since that day. I moved to Quincy. I was a big boss at the May Institute--then quit. Rebekah died. Brian and Kim moved to Tennessee, then Texas, then Alabama. Jess quit being friends with me. I moved to Somerville. My car's air conditioner quit working.

Through it all, the amazing and beautiful part is that what I wrote on this jagged scrap paper still remains true for me. So, for feng shui's sake, this poem is written here for myself and posterity. My prayer is that this is still my heartbeat in 2, 10, 25, 50 more years.

7/2/05

Small piece of paper
Asian girls stare
Church on Park St corner

Parents teach children about the
red Brick way of history amid honks,
bums, and a dancing Metallica reject

My city who needs Jesus, loves the Sox
more than Him

Holy one of Israel made famous
across the way one fall--
preached boldly everywhere 200 years ago

Lord, take it over

True believers long after you rather than
statusmoneysexdrugsalcoholfamepridelovefamilyhouses

The Barbarian Way

Abandon for worldly things replaces faith

Come Lord Jesus,
take over this place

Hear the bells and know the tune in your
hearts

A Quick Update

Moving weekend is now over and I'm attempting to settle into my new environs as an official Somervillian. (LOL--villian). It was an interesting moving weekend that started on Thursday and just kept going. It was cool the first day but hot through Saturday. Needless to say, I was sweating A LOT. Who needs to work out when you can move in 80-plus degree humid weather?

All was well and pressing forward until yesterday afternoon when I was putting a storage unit into my closet. I'd put it together and was pushing it into place when I cut the side of my left hand on something embedded in the carpet. I immediately clasped the cut with my right hand...then I surveyed the damage. There was blood pooling all over my palm and I knew it was bad enough for an ER visit. Fortunately, I quickly located a cast off towel to apply pressure and absorb the blood. Two of my roommates were home and helped me to locate my purse so we could drive to the hospital that was around the corner. One hour and three sutures later, I was back home. So much for any more unpacking of heavy things...

Needless to say, it was an interesting weekend. I'm really liking living here so far. We did some roomie bonding Saturday night with a nice stroll to Davis Square to grab some ice cream at JP Licks. Also, there's a lot of people in this neighborhood that go to Hope Fellowship, so it's been cool to meet new friends already. This is a really good decision on so many fronts. My prayer continues to be that this move will open up new doors to ministry and freedom to serve that I didn't have before.

I'd like to write more, but my hand is killing me. ;)

Environment Makes a Difference

I'm sitting in a Panera Bread, sitting among the harried masses since this is the only free wi-fi in reasonable driving distance. I'm waiting out about 4 hours between a meeting and 2 client sessions since extra driving is out of the question considering gas is nearly $3/gallon. This old man nearby has been noshing on the free bread slices and keeps going back for cheap things like coffee. I think he's trying to justify his existence here, taking up a perfectly usable table for 4. As he pays his gas bill and reads the Globe, he surprises me by pullling out a Blackberry. I don't even have one of those...
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So I'm here, feeling bad that I'm taking up this space, but typing away nonetheless. I need to chill and sit here for a little while--I've still got over 2.5 hours to my home visit. Breathe. Relax. Let those shoulder muscles unwind. That's really hard to do in here with the frenetic pace, hyper Kenny G music, and business meetings occupying the neighboring tables. I think I had too much caffeine this morning.
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The sun is finally out. We were promised 80 degrees today and before I walked in here, it probably hadn't hit 65. It was rainy and dreary for longer than those sage weathermen promised. We'll see if that 80 thing happens.
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We had our last CCPC Monday event for the semester last night. We had a cookout with steak (yummy--thanks Pine Lake!) and potluck stuff at the Jones' to celebrate Karin's 7 years in ministry in Boston. She is ending her time as a campus minister at Northeastern to stay home with Baby Eric (he's due on June 10). It's a really exciting time for her, but bittersweet of course. I enjoyed hearing the stories of people who have known her far longer than I have.
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I've been getting mad at myself lately. I'm frustrated that the just God and me thing hasn't been "doing it" for me for a while. It now has to be: God, me, some dynamic speaker; God, me, good music; God, me, and a community of people in prayer. I know those aren't bad things, but I also know that my public worship shouldn't exceed my private worship. Maybe I need to carve out more space for Him. I'm so guilty of letting everything else crowd our time together, even in my thoughts. I truly have a divided mind that never stops running, figuring, and working. That can be an advantage, but not when God calls you to rest in Him. Gotta breathe.

Sometimes You Just Want to Pop

Coming back home tonight made me realize I was on overload in Atlanta. It was good overload, but the engine was revving high without shifting.

The engine got in gear as we circled over the Harbor Islands as the plane approached its landing at Logan. Seeing the city gets me every time.

Rosana picked me up at the airport and it was great to talk to her. I finally was able to process things that I didn't even realize God was working out. I have a real feeling of moving forward in what I'm supposed to be doing in Boston. So here, for posterity (and my own accountability) is a list of what God is calling me to do until He tells me otherwise:

1. Take over planning community action/social justice projects in Mission Hill for Shawmut Springs
2. Work with the CCPC team in facilitating those types of projects all over Boston--with multiple church and parachurch ministry involvement
3. Work hard at my 'real' job this summer to make money to pay off the debt that's accrued from the last few months of low income
4. Cut hours a my 'real' job in the fall to accomodate seminary, Passion Boston prep work, & Shawmut/students
5. Raise monthly support for any financial shortfall
6. Become the guru of demographics for Boston colleges
7. Study REALLY hard

Wow...it's been so long since I've made a list like that or been so definitive. This is forward progress.

Since I'm exhausted, tomorrow I'm going to attack the action list for how I'm going to accomplish the above tasks.

Shallow Waters Breed Mosquitos

I've been a sad excuse for a blogger these last several weeks. I learned/remembered that my writing must come from a place of depth. Honestly, it just hasn't been there...so I didn't write. God has this amazing way of jarring me out of my shallow pool. He wants me to write and propels me forward to do it. He simply requires me to remember who the prime mover of the operation is or it doesn't happen. A whole lot of writing happened today that wasn't about me in forms that are rusty and unmaintained. Some new and exciting things were birthed unexpectedly. I have no idea what's going to happen next, but I know this is God's deal and not mine. It was never mine. It will never be mine.

I'm going to bed tonight with more satisfaction than I've had in a long time, remembering that I have a creative God who is all about restoration and His glory.

Man, Rebekah, I'm so jealous that you're getting to party it up in heaven right now. One day. And I'm hoping to bring a lot of good friends with me.

We are Virginia Tech

We Are Virginia Tech, by Nikki Giovanni

We are Virginia Tech
We are sad today
And we will be sad for quite a while
We are NOT moving on
We are embracing our mourning

We are Virginia Tech
We are strong enough to stand tall tearlessly
We are brave enough to bend to cry, and sad enough to know
We must laugh again

We are Virginia Tech
We do not understand this tragedy
We know we did nothing to deserve it
But neither does the child in Africa, dying of AIDS
Neither do the Invisible Children, walking the night away to avoid being captured by a rogue army
Neither does the baby elephant, watching his community be devastated for ivory
Neither does the Mexican child looking for fresh water
Neither does the Appalachian infant, killed in the middle of the night in his crib, in the home his father built with his own hands, being run over by a boulder because the land was destabilized
No one deserves a tragedy

We are Virginia Tech
The Hokie Nation embraces our own and reaches out with open heart and hand to those who offer their hearts and minds
We are strong and brave and innocent and unafraid
We are better than we think and not quite what we want to be
We are alive to the imagination and the possibility we will continue to invent the future
Through our blood and tears
Through all this sadness
We are the Hokies
We will prevail
We will prevail
We will prevail
WE ARE VIRGINIA TECH

All I Need

Today was one of those long days that make me wonder why I voluntarily live my life as I do. I ran from place to place and hardly had a minute to feed myself. That wasn't the best way to go into the weekend. But I was able to rally despite having to ride the subway into Boston and dealing with crowds of people whose personal mission seemed to be to annoy me.

After Ang and I finally met up in Kenmore Square, we fought Red Sox Nation to get a bite to eat at McDonald's. This VERY late lunch helped to rescue my mood a bit. I'm glad we took the time to sit since we were about to stand up for the next 5 hours.

We followed the throngs in the general direction of Fenway, but we were not counting ourselves among those who were about to watch the Sox thrash the Angels 10-1. Instead, we got in line at Avalon (one of the big clubs on Lansdowne St next to Fenway), showed our IDs, got a lovely orange bracelet, and walked inside. I haven't been to Avalon since I last lived in Boston, during grad school. I recall that the last time I was there involved some post-party drinking with 2 guys my roommate and I met at said party. I was surprised I remembered so much about the interior of the place. Hilariously enough, the bathroom was perfectly familiar, but I could swear the place was much bigger than it appeared to me last night. Ahh, perceptions over time, and how they vary depending on the ingestion of substances...

Needless to say, I had mixed emotions about being back there. That place has directed connections to who I used to be. It was a long time ago, but not long enough that I've forgotten or that it couldn't happen again. But this time was about redeeming that place in my heart and solidifying who I am in Boston now.

Ang and I were there to see Mat Kearney, the headliner for the VH1 You Outta Know Tour (I know, cheesy). Mat is a Christian who doesn't sing songs that are overtly Christian. He's gotten pretty famous over the last year by virtue of several of his songs being featured on Grey's Anatomy. I got his CD in a Relevant Network kit last spring and immediately loved it--it's a mix of guitar pop, piano, and spoken word/rap. Good, creative stuff. He came to Boston last fall and I missed the show due to my own poor pre-planning. I jumped at the chance to see him this time.

The show was a triple bill headed off by Rocco deLuca and the Burden. They are more rock influenced than Mat Kearney, but I could dig the neo-steel guitar sound. I enjoyed their set, other than the guitar solo that hearkened to something memorialized in There's Something About Mary. Let's just say he was REALLY into that solo.

Next up was The Feeling, a band from the UK that I would best describe as Euro, emo-pants pop. I give them credit for the fantastic harmonizing, but the lead singer's posturing and dancing on stage was SOOO annoying. I gulped down my Sam Adams while those guys were on stage--I was hoping it would make it end. But the pain was only amplified by the addition of two female college students with voices that I can only describe as East Coast Valley Girl. Their conversations during the show were frequently hilarious due to their lack of content beyond:

1. Relative hotness of band members
2. Rating the current song ("awesome" and "so great" were used frequently)
3. Recent hookups and their fallout
4. Maligning the fact that Tom Petty was not playing there after one of his songs was played as walk-in music between sets. Um, you won't be getting Tom Petty tickets for $17, or seeing him in a small venue like that, but I digress...
5. "He looked at me! I know he was singing right to me!"

Unfortunately, the East Valley Girls stuck around even after The Feeling's set was over. Later on I felt guilty about being so annoyed by them since these are exactly the people I'm sent to show God's love. Chalk that up to learning experience #1 for the night.

Another random concert-goer that made Angela and I crack up numerous times was Drunk Zebra Lady. This poor woman apparently forgot that the 80's were best left there the first time around. That outfit would have looked disastrous on a 17 year old, let alone someone of her age. It's a shame I wasn't able to capture her dancing. Please enjoy her picture here:

With all that said, I was happy for Mat Kearney to step on stage. My feet and lower back were starting to show their age. Needless to say, his set was very well done, with a great mix of his guitar- and piano-based songs. He sang every song from his latest album, as well as two older songs, and a new one called "Black and White." As he explained, the latter song was written while he was in Istanbul.

I enjoyed the show, but wished he talked more about the songs and their origins. Before taking to the piano to play one of my favorites, "All I Need," he explained that it was written for some friends who lived through Katrina in New Orleans. I attempted to record the song, but my camera's memory card ran out of room. It was a beautiful rendition of the song, but it will just have to live in my memory rather than in my memory card.

Mat came out to sing the obligatory encore to the adoring Boston crowd. We were really into his music and he seemed to honestly appreciate it. He told us that this show was the largest they'd done on the tour so far. The final two songs were the most spiritual of the night. The first song of the encore included "hallelujah" in the lyrics and allusions to the crucifixion. I was worshiping in that moment, knowing that this place was as good as any to praise my King. The final song was one that is on Mat's album, but he added an extended freestyle rap. From the moment he started the flow, I could feel my chest tighten and my eyes tear. As he began to describe a T ride down Comm Ave on the green line, talking about all the colleges, and the students, I heard God speak through that. Mat kept repeating words about love, grace, and redemption, recalling Boston's spiritual and cultural history. He was speaking about those students to whom I'm called to be a minister. After the song was over, I just stood there attempting to take a moment to process this in the middle of the cheering crowd. It seems like God always shows up to encourage me at the instant I least expect Him.

This New House

I went to see a new apartment this morning. The location is ideal. There's laundry in the unit. There's off-street parking. It's a 5 bedroom...that was not in the original plan. I thought it was just going to be Angela and I--a way to ease myself back into roommate life.

Today I got to spend more time with the prospective roommates and got a full tour of the place. It's huge. Large open spaces for entertaining. There's tons of storage space (big closets are a rarity here). The bedrooms somehow feel really private. And the rent is priced right.

Despite my best-laid plans, this may be my new home as of June 1. If the roommates stay as they are I will be the 'middle child' where age is concerned--2 older and 2 younger than me. It could be a powerful learning experience to live in that age spectrum.

I'm praying about this move and need discernment, but this feels like a wide open door.