Captive

It's 2:06 in the a.m. and I feel like there's a lot more things I could be doing (such as sleep, for instance). Instead, I'm sitting here worrying about so many things.

At the top of my list is taking care of my friends. When did it become so important to hear people's real stories, and not only catch a glimpse of their hearts but instead take it captive?

I love that part. I love getting to know you more than you know.

But it hurts how much I have to shove who I really am aside for things like school. I feel like I'm going out of my mind with stress. My senior year is turning out to be ridiculously challenging to survive. And I'm on week 4.

What happened to having time to read God's word and talk to Him for hours at a time?

What happened to living in such strong community that I knew all the goods and bads of my friends?

What happened to having time to sleep?

What happened to being relaxed?

What happened to the pure joy that is found when I am talking to you, when I am spending time with you for no reason at all?

What happened to reading for fun?

What happened to actually having time to go to the movies?

What happened to living without a planner?

I miss all of the above so much. I guess I always knew it would be hard to be a legit, grown-up adult.

But I didn't know it meant giving up almost all of the only things that have ever mattered.

Hope

"Most of us struggle in life to maintain the illusion of control, but in Africa that illusion is almost impossible to maintain. I always have the sense there that there is no equilibrium, that everything perpetually teeters on the brink of some dramatic change, that society constantly stands poised for some spasm, some tsunami in which you can do nothing but hope." -Peter Godwin

On the Road Again

I want "On the Road Again" to soon be on my radio dial...

I'm on family vacation, which includes literally the most boring, put-you-to-sleep drive through Oklahoma, a short stay in big Texas, and now I'm in the beautiful state of New Mexico, checking out Santa Fe. I've been coming here every summer for three weeks since my childhood; excluding a certain trip out of the country last summer, of course.

I feel so good when I'm traveling. I love not knowing what kind of random painted metal animals I will find along the road, where I'm going to eat my next meal, and who I am going to meet. I love the shot of energy I get when I find something thrilling that I didn't know existed.

I was talking to my friend Sienna about nomadism the other day. It would never work for me; I like my job and boyfriend too much for that. But the idea of it is awesome. Ridding myself of all of my useless possessions, as Beth blogged about, and finding all the things and places and people that are real in this world--now that I could handle.

[un]fairness

I live in the magical world of fair.

I think almost everything in my life thus far has been fair, equivalent, and justified. I'm slowly finding out that isn't the real world. I've always known it wasn't fair to other people; I just didn't know it was unfair to me.

I wonder how people handle the unfairness of life so easily, like it's just a way of life. I don't think fairness is a way of life at all. In fact, I think life is so unfair that we should stop labeling "injustices" and actually deal with them for what they are. When a baby dies in an orphanage today, it's our fault. It's not just "the system". One person could have saved that baby.

The Pursuit of...Nothing Worth Pursuing?

Summer has started, and I'm not pursuing much of anything.

Last summer I pursued relationships with friends, family and perfect strangers all over the globe. And this summer I'm staying in Springfield, Missouri working at a preschool 30 hours a week.

I'm not pursuing anything of consequence. Except money to pay for rent. But I feel better about life than I have in a long, long time. Maybe this extended sabbath is exactly what God knew I needed.

It's too bad I can't think about anything but Africa.

After the Last Tear Falls

After the last tear falls
After the last secret's told
After the last bullet tears through flesh and bone
After the last child starves
And the last girl walks the boulevard
After the last year that's just too hard

There is love
Love, love, love
There is love
Love, love, love
There is love

After the last disgrace
After the last lie to save some face
After the last brutal jab from a poison tongue
After the last dirty politician
After the last meal down at the mission
After the last lonely night in prison

There is love
Love, love, love
There is love
Love, love, love
There is love

And in the end, the end is
Oceans and oceans
Of love and love again
We'll see how the tears that have fallen
Were caught in the palms
Of the Giver of love and the Lover of all
And we'll look back on these tears as old tales

'Cause after the last plan fails
After the last siren wails
After the last young husband sails off to join the war
After the last "this marriage is over"
After the last young girl's innocence is stolen
After the last years of silence that won't let a heart open

There is love
Love, love, love
There is love

And in the end, the end is
Oceans and oceans
Of love and love again
We'll see how the tears that have fallen
Were caught in the palms
Of the Giver of love and the Lover of all
And we'll look back on these tears as old tales

'Cause after the last tear falls
There is love

-waterdeep

Augustana

Augustana is one of my top 3 bands of all time. I went to their FREE concert at MSU on Wednesday (Free? What were they thinking?! This band is too good for "free"!!) and I was in the fifth row. I was also more than a little excited that my friends' band opened for them. (Check out Cloud City, they rock.)

After the band left the stage, the audience went crazy for an encore and in order to avoid being attacked by a mob, the band obliged. The main singer, Dan, took hold of the microphone, lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and said:

"I grew up with my parents telling me there was only one way to Heaven. Then I did some stuff I knew Jesus would never forgive me for. Then I met this girl who told me all that stuff about Jesus Christ was sh**. She said she would forgive me because Jesus wouldn't. And I married her, and she's loved me no matter what I've done, more than Jesus ever could."

I was glad to hear only a few audience members cheering him on. But what I wrote above is almost word for word what he said; that's how uncomfortable and sad it made me feel. I wish he could believe Jesus would forgive him.

He went on to play a song containing the lyrics Cause I believed in the Lord/ but He don't show up anymore.

I was talking to my friend Jill after the concert. The drummer of Augustana, Justin, asked me what the good bars were in town, and Jill and I realized that maybe if we went and hung out with them that night, we could maybe have a legit conversation about Jesus.

We didn't go. Sort of because we (at least me; I can't speak for Jill) were too unsure of what we would say. I also didn't go for selfish reasons, too--I had a six page research paper to write.

We got to talking about why Christians are so shy to share Jesus' love. But people who are against religion have no problem proclaiming their beliefs. Why? We're not ashamed. At least I don't think so. Maybe we don't want to start controversy. Maybe we don't think we know the words to say. But I hate to admit it...if I was Jesus, I probably would have gone and had a beer with Augustana and told them about how much I love God.

White Privilege

[Disclaimer...I'm a white, Christian, middle class female...]

Let's face it.

Springfield, Missouri is creepily white and protestant.

Our definition of diversity is having both blonde and brunettes in the same extracurricular activities. Studies show I attend one of the top five most white colleges in the United States.

Missouri State University is talking about implementing a course focused on teaching white kids about diversity, which would include attending a Jewish synagogue once and maybe watching a video or two on diversity. (Which would obviously solve the diversity acceptance problem.)

Studies show that as the United States becomes more diverse, it becomes more segregated. People live with, attend school with, and go grocery shopping with other people of the same color. It's not just skin color, either. It's socioeconomic status and religion and every other form of segregation I can't imagine.

It makes me sick how we focus so much on unprivileged minorities as if white or protestant or middle class people can fix these people who are "wrong". But we ignore the fact that white, protestant, middle class people enjoy privilege.

I am never asked to speak for all the people in my racial group.

I can expect everyone to know about my culture. Even if I am oblivious to theirs.

I am taught that my culture is the ideal.

Are we this oblivious to the fact that instead of feeling sorry for others, we could also realize that their under privilege is due to our privilege? That instead of changing things for others, we could admit that we should change a few things ourselves?

Hell yes!

We've been discussing Hell in my C.S. Lewis class for the past two weeks. Interesting, because I grew up Methodist and (at least as my impression growing up) we only really discuss Heaven. Hell was just that other place that was simply the absence of Heaven.

Today my teacher put three categories on the board under which we should label our beliefs about Hell: "Hell, yes!" "Hell if I know" and "Hell, no!"

Seriously? I had to take a stance on this issue that I feel I know nothing about? I had to literally go stand by the board in a category and declare my belief? It is barely mentioned in the Bible except maybe...Revelation? It was weird. I felt unprepared. Of course I believe in Hell, because it's a Biblical concept and I believe in the Bible. But why didn't I know anything about it?

This whole labeling ourselves idea might have been less awkward if my school wasn't located in the middle of the Bible belt. But, alas, it is. And it was awkward. Even my teacher seemed to be bashing the atheists and agnostics of the room and at one point I was tempted to do a Shaq jump to the "Hell, no!" side just to remind everyone they were people too.

We all had a chance to talk on the subject. As my "Hell, yes!" classmates talked, I noticed not a single one of them mentioned Jesus.

My skin started to prickle like it always does when I know I have to say something. So I made a pretty good point about repentance (and therefore grace...except I didn't say this out loud) and then started stumbling through something about Jesus.

I just wish I could get my thoughts into words and tell these people that Jesus is forgiving, and all you have to do is believe and repent to meet Him in Heaven...

So, I need to vent a little bit, I suppose.

I'm feeling like a quitter.

Not because I've actually quit anything...my current lifestyle is just different than my old lifestyle, I guess. It's for the better, even though it isn't going to impress anyone looking at my resume.

"Sarah, why did you used to be involved in 359 activities and never sleep? Now your resume is blank except for work, school, Icthus, and the crisis nursery and you still don't sleep. Why did you become a failure?"

"I've decided people are more important than resumes. I've stopped screwing people over because I didn't have time for them. My purpose in life isn't to do more, but it's to help more and love more."

"Wow, you should write a book. Really. Because we're not hiring you. It might be your only chance at making money."

I know. I see it coming. I'm accepting of it...?

On another quitting note, within the last week I've almost quit both work and the crisis nursery. (Feeling like quitting school is more of an everyday occurrence.)

I get tired of people taking advantage of my helpful attitude at work; but is that just me being bitter that they're not "appreciating" me enough? I always go above and beyond. Maybe I'm just expecting people to consider me as a person. I'm not really sure.

I walked into the crisis nursery yesterday, and they gave me a huge list of chores to do that didn't allow me any time with the kids. Including vacuuming while the kids were asleep. I asked if we could wait until they woke up, and they said no.

I would like to say to them: What is your purpose? Is it really to just follow rules and schedules more than love on these kids and create the best environment for THEM? I was sooooo frustrated. I'm not quitting yet...I know those kids are more important than anything.

So I guess that's why I feel like a quitter.

But hey, I love you. Does that make it any better?

The Ubiquitous Anonymity of me and You

Side note...before I even start writing...every time I sign into my blog and it only takes twenty seconds, I'm brought back to the ten minutes I always waited in Ghana for the internet to load, and remember the patience I had there and wonder if I could somehow let a little of that bleed into my current life.

I went to a Jewish Synagogue the other day for a class in my Religious Studies minor. The Rabbi was available for questions, and I asked if they placed any emphasis whatsoever on evangelism. To my surprise, her answer was short and to the point: No. Absolutely not. In fact, they remain fairly neutral about what religions other people are; they just focus on what they themselves believe.

I found that really interesting, and it put me a little off balance.

Not because I think every church is out to evangelize the world and rub their "I love Jesus" shirts in people's faces (in fact, I've been known to wear a few shirts like that myself without that purpose). I found it interesting simply because I have never heard anyone say to me before that evangelism is not a valued practice.

I think many people in the Church have a heart for evangelism. Some people are able to meet someone on the street and tell them about Jesus. But other people are good at living a Christian lifestyle, and showing God's love, without being so direct. Still others, like me, love on kids all day but are never able to even mention the name of Jesus.

For me, all I understand is the ubiquitous anonymity of the love I know because of Jesus. I don't--some would go so far as say can't (if I want to keep my job)--talk about Christianity all day every day.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this. Consider everyone's spiritual gifts as equally valuable for evangelism. To me, there is no perfect definition of evangelism to strive for; just love people. The time will come when this love is somehow unforeseeably connected to Jesus Christ.

Remember: calculation is never any part of love.

Don't feel like you have to read this

God's been showing me His world needs change.

There's a two month old at the crisis nursery right now.

Why, WHY, would anyone not want that baby?

I DON'T UNDERSTAND.

I've tried and I've tried. God's world needs to change. It needs to be what He wanted. I want us to live it the way He intends. I want it enough that I'll do anything.

I'm really tired of being selfish. I'm here to do whatever I can to help. I need to help.

His world is falling apart and it's all our fault, we're all selfish and we pray for God to heal us and make our lives better and I KNOW that if we cared about other people the way we can and should, then we'd be too worried about others to focus on ourselves.

It's amazing how much healing comes from helping others, and I have no patience for anything else.

Noah

I'm in an Old Testament class right now. Besides the fact that I hate getting tested on biblical knowledge, I'm actually enjoying it quite a bit. But my professor has spent the last few weeks making a case for the flood (think Noah's ark) not actually happening throughout the world and also made me wonder why God refers to Himself as "our" (think Genesis 1:26: "Let us make man in our image, in our likeness").

I've come to the conclusion that I don't know what conclusion to come to. I'd like to believe that the flood was universal, but there's manuscripts from all over--the Epic of Gilgamesh has many, MANY similarities to the story of Noah, but it also involves many gods.

Which brings me to point 2. I personally think my professor came down too hard on me when I suggested the "our" might mean the trinity (he pointed out the trinity is not mentioned at all in the Old Testament). He said the "our" is a divine council. As far as meaning God and His heavenly angels, I guess he might be right. Touche, Prof. Moyer, touche.

I think the purpose of the flood story was not to spell out a specific event that occurred in a certain way at a certain time and ended with a rainbow (and probably a pot of gold). I think it's a "story", but a story from which we can learn a lot from and which I have no authority to deem accurate or inaccurate.

I do know this. There's been no fish bones found on land to indicate a flood. How would the animals have all gone to where Noah built his boat? The big tigers didn't kill the little bunnies for forty days? The freshwater fish became saltwater fish? Noah landed on the mountains of Ararat (in modern day Iran) and the polar bears got themselves to Alaska? It would take 8--let me repeat, EIGHT-- times the amount of water that exists on this earth to cover Mt. Everest. And where did this water go?

God's awesome and amazing and I can fully believe that He just made all this work. That there's no reason for practical implications when He is involved. But I'm going to focus on the meaning behind Genesis from now on, which is extremely applicable and full of God's purpose, instead of nitpicking. My faith is in God, and does not depend on the existence of Noah.

Studying the Bible this closely with professional religious expertise shutting down all my childhood Sunday School stories is strengthening my knots of faith. I didn't even know some of them were there, but now that someone's tried to tear them apart it's clear they are eternal.

Reckless

A Child Soldier named Michel Chikwanine came to Missouri State's campus. He talked about his time in the Democratic Republic of Congo. He was 23? 24? and has seen some of the most painful parts of this world.

When he was 8, he was abducted while playing soccer alongside his best friend. They took him to a child army encampment. Though he was too little to handle a gun on his own, he was still trained to shoot.

Within the first few weeks of living at the encampment, he was blindfolded. A man stood him up, placed a gun in his hands, and said "SHOOT". After dropping the gun twice, Michel mustered all his strength he had to hold up the gun and fired. The man behind him took the gun away and removed the blindfold; Michel had just shot his best friend.

After escaping the child army, Michel also witnessed the rapes of his mother and two sisters; he was told to watch and held at gunpoint, where he would be shot if he blinked. Michel's father was a political activist and tortured, and in the end, Michel had little choice but to leave home as a refugee.

All I have done today is wish I had slept more last night and complained about my classes. I find myself craving reckless abandonment in pursuit of the lost.