I am not an angry person. In fact, when I was visiting the Hughes family, Jennie was trying to explain to Hannah what a temper is. Hannah asked, "Does Tricia lose her temper?" and Jennie replied, "Well, no, I don't really think she does."
Which is true, mostly. I tend not to get angry. With people, at least. Ideas are a whole different matter.
Today I got into a passionate one-sided rant with my grandparents, in which I lambasted Americanized Christianity, and the stupidity with which many churches throw away their money on frivolous expenditures instead of funding people to go into the world and proclaim the glory of God to those who don't know Him. (See how I ended up going on and on in a run-on sentence? Written anger!)
Talk to me about any issue where theology and sociology collide, and chances are I will get angry.
Many years ago in Greece I said, "I am optimistic about people specifically, but I am very pessimistic about the world generally." I realize that this is the same with my anger.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Holy Discontent
I'm feeling rather discontented today. Part of this is normal I've-not-been-in-one-place-for-more-than-two-weeks-in-the-last-two-months emotion, but I think it is mostly God working in my heart, showing me that I am settling for far less than what He wants in my life.
Of course, I have very much enjoyed this last month of visiting my dear friends, getting caught up on their lives and celebrating the awesome relationships God has given me. But in the process I have started thinking thoughts like:
"Oh, he would make a lovely husband."
"What hair style would look best for my friend's wedding, and how can I avoid tan lines?"
"Where can I get a job that will make me happy?"
"I wonder how many TV shows I can cram into one evening?"
I do not think these are thoughts that glorify God or demonstrate a life of total abandonment to His call and His kingdom. They are wholly American thoughts, and I don't want to be an American. I am not supposed to act as though I am from this world, because God has taken me from my upbringing and my culture and set me in a wholly (and holy) different setting, one where God is the beginning and the end and the middle, and I am inconsequential except for how I glorify Him.
I'm ready to go somewhere. I want to be a missionary again. Yes, I know that there are things I need to do here in America, ways I can serve God in my hometown. But there are so many more temptations, and I can't help thinking the gut reaction to flee is a good one. Granted, my gut reaction is almost always "flee," but when I want to run toward discomfort and culture shock and social pain, I wonder if it's a good instinct right now.
I feel very lost at the moment. I don't know what God is going to do in my life. I don't know whether a family is going to be in my future, and if so, when. I don't know if I could handle being a missionary all by myself, without the social support that comes from a husband and kids. I don't know if I will be so lucky as Senegal to work with other missionaries who so easily fit into my life and personality.
But I want to move on. I am having a great time in America, no doubt about it. I absolutely and totally love being part of my Woodland family. There is nothing wrong with that, in itself. But I am becoming more obsessed with my relationships with people instead of my relationship with God, and that is horrible and wrong and worthy of drastic action.
I do love God, and I thank Jesus for being my King, and I am awed by the work I see the Holy Spirit doing in my life. But not enough. Not nearly enough. The fact that I have gone a week without cracking my Bible, that I would rather read a book by a pastor than the Word of God, is awful. I want the love of God to completely consume me, and it's just not. I'm letting my old American self block the transformation God wants to work in me.
It seems easiest to transform when I'm outside my comfort zone. I'm too comfortable now.
Of course, I have very much enjoyed this last month of visiting my dear friends, getting caught up on their lives and celebrating the awesome relationships God has given me. But in the process I have started thinking thoughts like:
"Oh, he would make a lovely husband."
"What hair style would look best for my friend's wedding, and how can I avoid tan lines?"
"Where can I get a job that will make me happy?"
"I wonder how many TV shows I can cram into one evening?"
I do not think these are thoughts that glorify God or demonstrate a life of total abandonment to His call and His kingdom. They are wholly American thoughts, and I don't want to be an American. I am not supposed to act as though I am from this world, because God has taken me from my upbringing and my culture and set me in a wholly (and holy) different setting, one where God is the beginning and the end and the middle, and I am inconsequential except for how I glorify Him.
I'm ready to go somewhere. I want to be a missionary again. Yes, I know that there are things I need to do here in America, ways I can serve God in my hometown. But there are so many more temptations, and I can't help thinking the gut reaction to flee is a good one. Granted, my gut reaction is almost always "flee," but when I want to run toward discomfort and culture shock and social pain, I wonder if it's a good instinct right now.
I feel very lost at the moment. I don't know what God is going to do in my life. I don't know whether a family is going to be in my future, and if so, when. I don't know if I could handle being a missionary all by myself, without the social support that comes from a husband and kids. I don't know if I will be so lucky as Senegal to work with other missionaries who so easily fit into my life and personality.
But I want to move on. I am having a great time in America, no doubt about it. I absolutely and totally love being part of my Woodland family. There is nothing wrong with that, in itself. But I am becoming more obsessed with my relationships with people instead of my relationship with God, and that is horrible and wrong and worthy of drastic action.
I do love God, and I thank Jesus for being my King, and I am awed by the work I see the Holy Spirit doing in my life. But not enough. Not nearly enough. The fact that I have gone a week without cracking my Bible, that I would rather read a book by a pastor than the Word of God, is awful. I want the love of God to completely consume me, and it's just not. I'm letting my old American self block the transformation God wants to work in me.
It seems easiest to transform when I'm outside my comfort zone. I'm too comfortable now.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Senegal in NYC
Today I....
1) Hated saying goodbye to my Woodland church family. Abby summed up my emotions perfectly by asking, "When we get back to Peoria, can we all stay in a hotel?" It's just so nice to spend all my time with my church. Room with them, work with them, eat with them, play with them. I could do it forever.
2) Rode/drove over six hours to New Jersey, listening to the end of The Hunger Games audiobook. Oh, Peeta, you are truly my favorite fictional character of all time that I would actually love and adore in real life.
3) Checked into a motel with my mom.
4) Walked ten minutes to a bus stop, then rode for 40 minutes into New York City. Also we got ripped off by our bus driver, who asked if we wanted round trip, and we answered yes. When we got to our destination, we asked for a ticket or receipt to come back, and he said that wasn't possible, because you can't use cash to leave NYC. $6.40 down the drain.
5) Was completely overwhelmed by Port Authority Bus Terminal and the subway system.
6) Figured out the subway map we borrowed from Sarah Pauli, and now I rule the NYC subway system. Or at least the E line.
7) Went to the Museum of Modern Art, anxious to use our CityPass, only to find that it was free tonight.
8) Confirmed that modern art is almost totally uninteresting to me.
9) Walked down 5th Avenue and stopped at a cute healthy awesome cafe for dinner.
10) Went to the top of the Empire State Building with surprisingly short lines and not much crowding at the rails. It is rather boring up there. All you can do is stare at tall buildings and other tall buildings that look short in the distance.
11) Walked along 34th Street, then ducked in Macy's because of that miracle movie my mom really likes.
12) Met a Senegalese woman! The lady who sold me some Clinique moisturizer had a name tag that said "Fatima," a slight accent, and vaguely Senegalese features. I asked her if she came from New York, and she said she was from Senegal, West Africa. I lit up, explained that I had just been there, and we talked for five or ten minutes.
She left Dakar ten years ago, and has since lived in France, California, Washington DC, and New York. Her mother is Sereer and her father is Pular. She greeted me in Wolof, and the reply slid out of my mouth without thinking, which is good because I don't think I could have remembered it if I'd consciously worked at it. I told her the only Pular word I knew was "Jam tung" and she freaked out. She was so super thrilled to talk about Senegal with someone, and so was I. When we finally left, she said, "It was nice to meet you, Siga Ndour" and I felt like part of my heart was restored.
13) Returned to the Port Authority Bus Terminal and totally rocked the tickets and finding gate 318. We rode the bus back to New Jersey, and collapsed in the motel at 9:00. It's been a long day. And a long week.
1) Hated saying goodbye to my Woodland church family. Abby summed up my emotions perfectly by asking, "When we get back to Peoria, can we all stay in a hotel?" It's just so nice to spend all my time with my church. Room with them, work with them, eat with them, play with them. I could do it forever.
2) Rode/drove over six hours to New Jersey, listening to the end of The Hunger Games audiobook. Oh, Peeta, you are truly my favorite fictional character of all time that I would actually love and adore in real life.
3) Checked into a motel with my mom.
4) Walked ten minutes to a bus stop, then rode for 40 minutes into New York City. Also we got ripped off by our bus driver, who asked if we wanted round trip, and we answered yes. When we got to our destination, we asked for a ticket or receipt to come back, and he said that wasn't possible, because you can't use cash to leave NYC. $6.40 down the drain.
5) Was completely overwhelmed by Port Authority Bus Terminal and the subway system.
6) Figured out the subway map we borrowed from Sarah Pauli, and now I rule the NYC subway system. Or at least the E line.
7) Went to the Museum of Modern Art, anxious to use our CityPass, only to find that it was free tonight.
8) Confirmed that modern art is almost totally uninteresting to me.
9) Walked down 5th Avenue and stopped at a cute healthy awesome cafe for dinner.
10) Went to the top of the Empire State Building with surprisingly short lines and not much crowding at the rails. It is rather boring up there. All you can do is stare at tall buildings and other tall buildings that look short in the distance.
11) Walked along 34th Street, then ducked in Macy's because of that miracle movie my mom really likes.
12) Met a Senegalese woman! The lady who sold me some Clinique moisturizer had a name tag that said "Fatima," a slight accent, and vaguely Senegalese features. I asked her if she came from New York, and she said she was from Senegal, West Africa. I lit up, explained that I had just been there, and we talked for five or ten minutes.
She left Dakar ten years ago, and has since lived in France, California, Washington DC, and New York. Her mother is Sereer and her father is Pular. She greeted me in Wolof, and the reply slid out of my mouth without thinking, which is good because I don't think I could have remembered it if I'd consciously worked at it. I told her the only Pular word I knew was "Jam tung" and she freaked out. She was so super thrilled to talk about Senegal with someone, and so was I. When we finally left, she said, "It was nice to meet you, Siga Ndour" and I felt like part of my heart was restored.
13) Returned to the Port Authority Bus Terminal and totally rocked the tickets and finding gate 318. We rode the bus back to New Jersey, and collapsed in the motel at 9:00. It's been a long day. And a long week.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Mission Trip Love
I was really excited for my mission trip team. It was going to be Jake, Joe, Cheryl and me working in a basement. That job got canceled, and I was kind of devastated when our whole team was reassigned to join a roofing job at a church far away from everyone else. That was very stupid of me, because I love the crew I'm working with.
We have such a great dynamic, where everyone is pretty laid back emotionally, but is also a very hard worker. We bust our butts, running around to measure and pre-drill tin roof, and hanging off railings to paint hand rails, and climbing up incredibly tilted ladders to stuff insulation in the tin roof bumps (not to mention Jake and Joe, who spend all day crawling around the roof drilling things into place).
But then we have fun, passing around communal drinks ("Oh, is that Peach Mango water? Can I try?" "Me too!"). And Bruce, the crew chief, took time before going to eat lunch to take me over to a tree to see if I could do a chin up. I could. With the help of him pushing the bottom of one of my shoes.
We work hard with a playful heart, I guess. It's perfect. No drama, no fights, no slackers. Which is amazing considering we have a 5-year-old (Andrew), a high schooler (Michael), four college students (Jake, Ashley, Joe, Troy), a college graduate (me), two 30-ish-year-olds (Bruce and Jenna), two 50-ish-year-olds (Cheryl and Steve) and a 60-ish-year-old (Bill). Not exactly a combination that I would think works, but it does.
I wish this trip could go on forever and ever, because I love it so.
That's our team minus a couple people and plus Frank and John, two men from the church we are roofing who bring us doughnuts and ice cream bars and sleep in their trucks all night so the roofing material won't get stolen.
We have such a great dynamic, where everyone is pretty laid back emotionally, but is also a very hard worker. We bust our butts, running around to measure and pre-drill tin roof, and hanging off railings to paint hand rails, and climbing up incredibly tilted ladders to stuff insulation in the tin roof bumps (not to mention Jake and Joe, who spend all day crawling around the roof drilling things into place).
But then we have fun, passing around communal drinks ("Oh, is that Peach Mango water? Can I try?" "Me too!"). And Bruce, the crew chief, took time before going to eat lunch to take me over to a tree to see if I could do a chin up. I could. With the help of him pushing the bottom of one of my shoes.
We work hard with a playful heart, I guess. It's perfect. No drama, no fights, no slackers. Which is amazing considering we have a 5-year-old (Andrew), a high schooler (Michael), four college students (Jake, Ashley, Joe, Troy), a college graduate (me), two 30-ish-year-olds (Bruce and Jenna), two 50-ish-year-olds (Cheryl and Steve) and a 60-ish-year-old (Bill). Not exactly a combination that I would think works, but it does.
I wish this trip could go on forever and ever, because I love it so.
That's our team minus a couple people and plus Frank and John, two men from the church we are roofing who bring us doughnuts and ice cream bars and sleep in their trucks all night so the roofing material won't get stolen.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Celebrating Mediocrity
We've started our first day of work on the Woodland family mission trip, and I have re-fallen in love with my church family. I'm roofing a church, and the pitch is pretty steep. I've only ever roofed a flatish roof before, so I resigned myself to staying on the ground, passing materials up when needed.
Not so! I was peer pressured into climbing the ladder, and throughout the rest of the day, I got more and more confident. Not like to a ridiculous degree, but enough that I could walk around on my feet instead of scooting on my butt.
But I love my church, because even though I ended up sitting on the peak of the roof, holding everything that people didn't want to fall and then handing it off--a pretty trivial job by all accounts--people thanked me like I was useful, and treated me like part of the team. They would even encourage me to do real jobs, like snap chalk lines or cut the insulation to fit.
I think other groups of professionals would do the job themselves and get fed up with the unskilled people on their team. Not Woodlanders. The love between my spiritual family is something real, and something I am proud to be a part of.
This was all revealed to me in a case of the opposite. A kid from the local church was helping us roof, and he asked me to pass it him via Jake. I did, and then the kid said. "Leave it to the men."
Not a good button to push with me. I immediately replied, "Hey! I'm incompetent because I'm incompetent, not because I'm a woman."
Jake laughed at me, but that was okay, because I knew he valued me for what I was doing, and he would help me if I wanted to try something new. And then Ashley stepped up and starting hammering and running all over the roof. And then Troy walked on the edge-side of the roof as I learned to walk to the dropoff. And then Steve taught me less terrifying ways to climb onto a ladder without any condescension in his voice. And then Bruce told me to organize the tool pickup.
I love our team, and I love our church, and I love going on mission trips with these people.
Not so! I was peer pressured into climbing the ladder, and throughout the rest of the day, I got more and more confident. Not like to a ridiculous degree, but enough that I could walk around on my feet instead of scooting on my butt.
But I love my church, because even though I ended up sitting on the peak of the roof, holding everything that people didn't want to fall and then handing it off--a pretty trivial job by all accounts--people thanked me like I was useful, and treated me like part of the team. They would even encourage me to do real jobs, like snap chalk lines or cut the insulation to fit.
I think other groups of professionals would do the job themselves and get fed up with the unskilled people on their team. Not Woodlanders. The love between my spiritual family is something real, and something I am proud to be a part of.
This was all revealed to me in a case of the opposite. A kid from the local church was helping us roof, and he asked me to pass it him via Jake. I did, and then the kid said. "Leave it to the men."
Not a good button to push with me. I immediately replied, "Hey! I'm incompetent because I'm incompetent, not because I'm a woman."
Jake laughed at me, but that was okay, because I knew he valued me for what I was doing, and he would help me if I wanted to try something new. And then Ashley stepped up and starting hammering and running all over the roof. And then Troy walked on the edge-side of the roof as I learned to walk to the dropoff. And then Steve taught me less terrifying ways to climb onto a ladder without any condescension in his voice. And then Bruce told me to organize the tool pickup.
I love our team, and I love our church, and I love going on mission trips with these people.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Trusting God
I downloaded and started filling out the Samaritan's Purse application. But the thing with my two plans for the future (SP and Journeyman) is that I just don't feel peaceful about either of them. I haven't been able to decide if it was nervousness on my part or God trying to get through to me.
Today someone called the church, and asked me what my next step is. I rattled off my two choices, and it hit me that this whole thing is very much in my control.
Which is exactly where it shouldn't be.
So I got out my notebook to pray (because my verbal mind prayers tend to ramble), and after a couple minutes I had this clear sense of God telling me to wait. So I'm not going to work on either application until God tells me differently.
Probably some of you will freak out, and I know my dad won't be pleased. But if I learned in Senegal to trust God, well, I think I need to trust God. I don't want to live by the false adage "God helps those who help themselves." No! God helps those who seek him and him alone.
So I'm just going to go ahead with the things I know God wants me to do: lead a Bible study, mentor younger girls, visit homebound church members. Those things don't pay anything, and I think that is part of how God is growing me. Will I follow him if it means not making any money? I guess I'm about to find out.
I think that God will put a money-making job in front of me at some point. But that's the thing. I was trying to decide my future. I need to step back and let God do that for me. Every other job I've ever had was handed to me in such a way that it was obviously God setting it up for me. Why would I want to ruin that track record?
Today someone called the church, and asked me what my next step is. I rattled off my two choices, and it hit me that this whole thing is very much in my control.
Which is exactly where it shouldn't be.
So I got out my notebook to pray (because my verbal mind prayers tend to ramble), and after a couple minutes I had this clear sense of God telling me to wait. So I'm not going to work on either application until God tells me differently.
Probably some of you will freak out, and I know my dad won't be pleased. But if I learned in Senegal to trust God, well, I think I need to trust God. I don't want to live by the false adage "God helps those who help themselves." No! God helps those who seek him and him alone.
So I'm just going to go ahead with the things I know God wants me to do: lead a Bible study, mentor younger girls, visit homebound church members. Those things don't pay anything, and I think that is part of how God is growing me. Will I follow him if it means not making any money? I guess I'm about to find out.
I think that God will put a money-making job in front of me at some point. But that's the thing. I was trying to decide my future. I need to step back and let God do that for me. Every other job I've ever had was handed to me in such a way that it was obviously God setting it up for me. Why would I want to ruin that track record?
Mini-Rant
It was nice talking to Bruce today. Somehow we got on the topic of me dating, and he said I probably had someone in mind, and I answered that no, I really don't. I explained myself, saying that the things I want out of life are not likely to be found in very many guys--the desire to live internationally, in big cities, in small villages, in Europe, in Africa, in Asia. I don't care. I just want to go places, and I don't want to stay in one place for long.
Bruce sat there for a second, then said, "Yeah. That'll be pretty hard to find someone like that."
And you know what? It was so nice to hear that. I'm tired of people patronizing me, telling me I'll find "the one." First, I'm pretty sure I didn't complain about not having him. Second, you're only making it worse by insinuating that I am not a complete person until I've found him. Third, you make it sound like some easy thing, like I'm just not opening my eyes or something.
It was gratifying to hear someone acknowledge that the guy I want to marry is not exactly on my doorstep. Sure, God could make him turn up at the randomest time in the randomest place, but by my logic, that means I should stop looking and stop caring. It'll happen when God wants it to happen. Until then, I want to be happily single, and I want other people to be happy that I'm single too.
Bruce sat there for a second, then said, "Yeah. That'll be pretty hard to find someone like that."
And you know what? It was so nice to hear that. I'm tired of people patronizing me, telling me I'll find "the one." First, I'm pretty sure I didn't complain about not having him. Second, you're only making it worse by insinuating that I am not a complete person until I've found him. Third, you make it sound like some easy thing, like I'm just not opening my eyes or something.
It was gratifying to hear someone acknowledge that the guy I want to marry is not exactly on my doorstep. Sure, God could make him turn up at the randomest time in the randomest place, but by my logic, that means I should stop looking and stop caring. It'll happen when God wants it to happen. Until then, I want to be happily single, and I want other people to be happy that I'm single too.
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