-
Just a typical Saturday spent jumping out of a plane
Yep, that’s right.
I jumped out of a plane. At 10,000 feet in the air.
This girl who still does not like to ride in an elevator. Who still will not ride a roller coaster that involves standing up. And who still gets scared of the dark sometimes rode in a perfectly good airplane up to 10,000 feet and then jumped out. Not to worry, I did not jump out alone. The guy strapped to my back had done this oh around 3800 times. I had nothing to worry about. And quite frankly, I was not really that scared. There was a moment when I was sitting in the plane that I was thinking, “what did I get myself into???” But then we got to the edge of plane, he said “Ready, Set, God,” and that was it. I was flying through the air.
UMMM.. COOLEST THING EVER!
60 seconds of free fall which felt like a lot longer and then whoosh.. the parachute went up and it was smooth sailing. It really felt like you were flying. And I love looking down from an airplane and seeing all the tiny houses and cars-odd I guess, but it is one of my favorite parts of flying. Even cooler to not have a huge plane enveloping you. As we slowly floated back to earth, I was relaxed and enjoying the view, totally not ready for it to end and as I landed safely back to earth, I was instantly envious of the birds. Being able to fly must be the coolest thing.
Jumping out of a plane 10,000 feet up in the air also causes you to reflect. Well, ok, most anything I do causes me to reflect because I tend to live a crazy life and jumping out of planes is just not something that everyone does. Nor even wants to do. Kinda like moving to an island or running a half-marathon. But as I landed safely back on the ground, I was reminded once again of the importance of walking by faith. I had to trust that the parachute had been correctly packaged, that the jump instructor knew was he was doing, and that he would land us smoothly so as to avoid a broken leg (ironically my biggest fear as I am currently without insurance)! And then once I was assured of all those things, I had to actually jump out of the plane. Sure most people believe that the parachute will deploy and the guy strapped to you probably does know what he is doing. But how many people actually put faith in that and jump of the plane? How many people get past watching videos or saying someday and actually do it? Maybe it is not jumping out of a plane. But what other obstacles in life are you staring at believing that everything is safe, but not putting it to the ultimate test by jumping. I can live my life as though I have faith, but until I act on that faith. Until I give beyond my means, live beyond what I believe possible, or pray bigger then I can see, am I truly living by faith? I can trust that God will do what He says, but until I jump, am I really trusting at all? Normally, I just stand there, on the edge, staring over, too scared to jump. But no more. I jumped out of a perfectly safe, decent plane with another human strapped to my back and I 100% trusted that I would land safely back on earth. How much more should I be able to trust that God has my best interests in mind?
What about you? What “planes” do you need to jump off of? What areas do you need to acting on the faith you claim to have?
-
Communion as a Community
Somewhere along the line in church history we started to treat communion as a solemn, individual thing to be done in church services with soft music playing in the background to provide an atmosphere of silence and introspection. Many well-meaning churches still practice communion in this way and while there may be evidence for them to change, status quo says many will not ever give second thought to this practice. However, as I have spent some time studying church practices and the history behind them, this was one that always bothered me. When you look back at the early church, you never see them practicing communion this way. It was always reverent. It was always solemn and holy. But it was also always surrounded by a meal and the church and community and praising. It was not this individual thing done in five minutes at the end of a church service. It was a celebration and a remembrance of the body of Christ that was broken for them.
As one author writes, “Communion is not an individualistic matter; it is a body matter. We commune as a body; we come to the Lord’s table as a family. This truth is bound up in the biblical symbol of the one loaf and the one cup. “Because there is one loaf,” Paul writes, “we, who are many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf” (1 Cor. 10:17, NIV). This body dimension of communion tells us something about the mood of the meal as well. Communion is often taken in a somber mood of dismal introspection as we focus on the death of Christ. But could the proper context be one of celebration? If a shared meal were part of our communion together, it would seem so. We read in Acts that the first Christians “broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts” (Acts 2:46). Communion was an occasion of sharing with the saints and celebrating the forgiveness found in Christ.” (Mattison*)
Last time I checked, a sip of grape juice and small cracker did not constitute a meal. And rarely does the practice of communion spark excitement in me. Usually I am annoyed because it means church is going to go longer than normal. I know this is not the right response, but I am probably not alone in this feeling. However, I went along because who am I to challenge age-old church traditions. Even if those traditions may be based not in scripture, but in simply that-tradition. Until last night.
My small group and several other small groups part of my church got together for a meal and….communion. Instead of doing it on Sunday mornings, the church philosophy is to do in communal settings. Such as last night. Let me tell you, it was probably the least silent communion I have ever had. It seemed like there was at least one kid for every adult in the room. But we gathered, ate, sang, and shared communion in community. With babies, kids, and people from all different walks of life. We worshipped together and broke bread and spent the evening remembering the precious blood spilled for us on Calvary. You can argue it was against tradition or that it is un-biblical, but I will tell you, that communion had more meaning than any I have partaken in over the past several years. As I looked around the room, I saw a group of people devoted to Christ and devoted to each other. It was a family. They are the people who have your back, that encourage you, that help you grow, and that push you to a more intimate relationship with Christ. And they are the people who will share a meal and communion with you in the same breath and view as a holy intimate event.
I believe this is one thing that sets my little community apart. That makes it feel like a little more of a community and a little less like a church. While I am thankful for the Sunday morning worship and teaching, I was humbled and convicted over the heart of the people I saw last night. The heart that says “I am here for you” and the heart that desires to see God reach people who may not have ever given Him a chance. It’s part of why we do communion as a community and not as a part of our service. And its part of why I have become so instantly drawn into a group of people on the surface I have little in common with. I may not be married with kids, I may not be a long time resident of the west side, and I may be years younger, but when you meet at the cross, those things simply do not matter. The things that do were evident last night. And perhaps now I may argue that this is how communion should really happen. In community. At the level ground of the cross. Beside people you live life with. Not strangers you sit by on Sunday morning.
*http://www.auburn.edu/~allenkc/openhse/communion.html
You May Also Like
Being Brave Everyday
-
13.1…
…miles.
Yep, that’s right.
I ran 13.1 miles.
And I did it 1:56.
Let me tell you, there are few times in my life I have been so proud. I woke up at 4:30am Sunday morning after 9 weeks of training. The day was finally here. I have sacrificed a lot the last couple months to train for this. And I was a little nervous, but as I lined up with all the other runners, I was just excited. Yes, excited about getting ready to run 13.1 miles. Another reinforcement of the fact that I am not your average person. Most people get excited about football games; me, I get excited about running long distances. I felt so good the entire race. My knees didn’t hurt and I kept up the pace I wanted to, in fact, I was consistently ahead. I finished my 5k, 10k, and 15k all faster than I thought I would. When I saw that finishing the entire thing in under 2 hours was a reality, I pushed myself all the more harder. I came into mile 11 tired, but thankfully I found a runner to pace myself with and was determined not to let her beat me. As I came down the final stretch, I sprinted to the finish, and then just about collapsed. See, I always begin my races with the goal of crossing the finish line with nothing left and this time I definitely succeeded in my endeavor. It was an incredible feeling. The biggest confidence boost you can imagine. I did it. I just ran 13.1 miles. Not only did I run it, I killed it. For a first-timer, to finish in under 2 hours, well, that’s all I could have asked for.
What they fail to tell you is that the next 24 hours are brutal. I didn’t sleep a wink last night because every time I moved, I woke up due to the throbbing in my legs and everyone at work has been laughing at me as I hobble around due to muscles that are in major rebellion. I plan to spend the evening with ice on them and attempting to climb as few stairs as possible as this event brings tears to my eyes. Literally. I also will figure out a way to ensure this sort of pain does not happen again. At least not quite to this extent.
However, as usual, the pain is not enough to keep me from putting myself through this type of torture again. Next thing on the agenda is another half in April and then straight on into a marathon training program. Yep, I am crazy. Or maybe just a junkie for that feeling of accomplishment after you cross the finish line. But I figure one of these days it will come in handy. Perhaps someday I will even find someone who thinks of it as an endearing quality.
-
Fall Is Here
The leaves are starting to change, the weather is getting cooler, and pumpkin and apple items are out in full swing. I love fall. It is by far my favorite season of the year. And I missed it last year. Granted, I was loving my island life, but I did miss the colors, the weather, and apple cider. And as seasons change, so does life. Last night a friend joked about what they were doing this time last year and I thought, this time last year I was working on report cards. My how time changes. In light of that, I have been very reflective over the past few days. Partly because I have been missing Anna something awful, but mostly because life is truly changing. And as each day passes, I am feeling more and more the changes and more and more like an adult. (scary!)
I do not normally like change. Ironically, as much as I love adventure, I am not much on change. I keep the same schedule, eat the same food, and have a place and spot for everything I own. On the flip side, if you leave my personal effects alone, I will try anything, go anywhere, and probably be laughing and enjoying it the whole time. A contradiction. Lover of adventure: hater of change. Yet life is changing and I am slowly learning to be ok with that.
Biggest change, I am finally feeling very settled. Something I never thought I would say nor did I ever think I wanted. After a long time of moving twice a year, living out of boxes and suitcases, and just generally not having any idea where “home” really was, I am officially unpacked, settled, and home. Granted, southern Indiana was not the place I ever thought I would call home, but as the months have passed, I can truly say that I love it here. Perhaps this will not be home forever, but for now, it is home. My apartment is fully unpacked, organized, and starting to look like home. The next item on the agenda is to paint. On the job front, this week marks that illusive 90 days which is crazy to think about. Seems like just yesterday I was interviewing and packing up to move back. I love my job too. Sure, some days are long, but I can honestly say that I really enjoy going to work each day.
Beyond that, I am re-connecting with old friends, making new, and becoming increasingly overwhelmed with how blessed I am by those relationships. Aside from Anna, my closest girlfriends live within 5 minutes of me and while we may not see each everyday, they are a constant source of laughter and encouragement. As I get older, I am so thankful for them and can honestly say I think they will be the friends I keep for the rest of my life. They are my running partners, my cheering squad, and my dinner dates. I am truly a lucky girl.
And not being one to ever sit still, I am tackling a new challenge in a little over two months-a master’s degree. Going back to school was always something I knew I wanted to do. I am a learner at heart and cannot wait to get back into the books. I know, that makes me a nerd. But I am so excited! I am also enjoying not having anything to do in my evenings as soon they will be full of classes and homework.
There are other things coming up that will provide for more blog posts.. not having Internet at home and not doing much has not given me a lot to write about, but I have a race, sky diving, and a birthday on the horizon:)
All in all, life is wonderful. I love it so much! I am so thankful for the people around me, the way God has orchestrated every detail, and even all the changes as they are maturing and growing me in ways I never thought possible.
-
Skydiving
It’s official.. in the next month I will get to check two things off my bucket list.
The first, run a half marathon. Training is going great and I will for sure cross the finish line!! (More on this later)
The second thing and point of this post is….. SKYDIVING! Yes, you read that right. I am going skydiving.
This is a true test to the fact that I am an adrenaline/adventure junkie as I really do not like heights. However, the thought of jumping out of an airplane 12,000 feet up in the air makes me so excited I want to squeal!! It is my early birthday gift to myself. In celebration of living 25 years and because from the looks of it, year 25 will be rang in single, I am embracing life to its fullest and doing something I have always wanted to do. I mean, I have to keep life exciting as I am no longer planning trips to Bali to ride elephants or snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef on my Spring break. Ahh.. the life I have lived!
Life is great and I am so in love with it!! 🙂
-
Poor and Humbly
Humbly You Came/To the earth You created/All for love’s sake became poor*
Name that song. If you grew up in church, I bet you could not only name it, but sing the rest of it from memory. I will admit, I am not a big fan of the song because it has been so over-sung in our churches. But last night, as I sang the words of the song, I was overwhelmed by the weight of those words. What does it really mean that the light of the world came to earth? And how did He come?
Poor and Humbly.
Not in a flash of lights. Not broadcasting to the world how great He was. Not in a fancy car. The Savior of the universe, my Jesus, was born in a stable to a family we would consider impoverished. He went mostly unnoticed for the first part of His life, and finally started making the news by.. feeding the hungry, healing the sick, and helping the broken. How drastically different a picture then the one painted in our churches today. I mean, sure we will sing a song about how He came to earth and how high the price was that He had to pay for our sin, but in that same breath we will complain about the lights or the sound or the chairs. We have become a people so consumed with our own lives that we are perhaps, dare I say, unwilling to even consider that perhaps Christ came not simply to save us from hell, but to teach us a better way to live here and now. He set an example of love, humility, and graciousness. He was poor and lowly by earthly standards.
This is something I have struggled with for a long time now. How do we reconcile the life Christ lived with the consumerist nature of society and the church? And if we choose to instead, just seek Christ and attempt to live as He lived, how do we do so without everyone thinking we are weird? But perhaps those are the wrong questions to ask. Perhaps the bigger question is, how can we afford not to? Our example is Christ. And I have a strong feeling if Christ came back today, He would walk into our church buildings and start turning tables over. That is if we even let Him through the doors. Perhaps His lowly appearance, unwashed hair, and dirty feet might be reason to not allow Him through the doors. Perhaps we would be too busy making sure the lights were right, the music was timed correctly, and the atmosphere was inviting. Perhaps we would be too busy with ourselves, with our friends, with our group that we would fail to see the visitor silently entering through our doors. Perhaps we are too caught up in church arguments, who said what, who goes where, and how much I can promote my own building (note I say building because we aren’t promoting the body of Christ or the church when we simply promote our place of worship).
Beyond those things, I wonder how as the American church we have decided that big buildings are acceptable, that fancy cars are a wise use of our money, and that houses that boast of our wealth are ok because they are simply an outpouring of God’s blessing. Perhaps God blessed us in order that we may use our funds to “live simply so others may simply live.” When I would argue that more of the body of Christ is living in poverty, then living in excess, why the need for more, more, more? Can we take a step back and truly listen to the words we sing? Can we stop for a moment and think of the gravity of Christ’s life? And in doing so, can we truly evaluate our own lives against that standard? I am guilty so often as charged. I am not claiming for a second that I do not struggle with the desire to want more, to spend more, to have things a certain way. But I am committing to following Jesus regardless of how “weird” that may make me in the eyes of those around me. So I ask you, today, this week, what can you do to live more like the Jesus who came to the world poor and humbly? What change can you make in your actions, in your words, in your spending habits to reflect a life modeled after the One who gave it all?
*Light of the World by Chris Tomlin
-
Restless at Heart
Most people probably have mixed and perhaps strong feelings on the topic of astrology. I do not believe in it, do not read my daily horoscope, or really ever pay any attention to it. But from a personality standpoint, oftentimes it is dead on. I have rarely held a job for longer than a year. And the few that I have had for longer than that, have been just one of many jobs I have worked during that time. I changed my major four times in college. I change my mind like the wind changes and I have as many interests as there are colors. I have always had this restlessness. unfortunately, I have not always had a name for it or known how to deal with it. And I am sure that there are many people in my life who have been hurt at one point or another by this part of me. Not that I do it on purpose, but I am sure my inability to sit still, settle down, or relax has stepped on someone’s toes. It is probably why I have had so many relationships that have ended poorly, why roommate situations never worked out quite right, and why the longest friend I have had is almost 10 years my elder. I just get bored. And restless. And people take it personally. But usually I am not bored with them, usually I am just restless. So yesterday I ran across this on my Twitter.A #Sagittarius needs to recognize that their eternal restlessness is a personal issue, not a relationship issue.As I read about that, I thought about where I am. My soul is restless; perhaps even anxious. But for what reason, I cannot explain. I love my job, I am so thankful for my friends, and living in southern Indiana is not all bad. In fact, the leaves are starting to change and its starting to feel like fall. I think though, that my soul is not restless because of circumstances. You could put me anywhere, change everything, and I will still feel the same. So why the restlessness?I think it is just who I am. I think it is why I can work two jobs, go to school, run, hang out with my friends, and still find time to do a myriad of other things. I think it is why I spare time researching ways to fight human trafficking, am so interested in social justice, and so passionately care about those issues. I know it is why I am sometimes difficult to get along with and even more difficult to understand. Because my restlessness is not about relationships, it’s just part of who I am. It has nothing to do with what I am doing, who I spend my time with, or even the geographical location I am living. And it probably is not going to change. I think I will always be a restless, wanderer at heart. It does not mean I will always wander, it just means I will always find something to do, a cause to support, or a race to run. It is who I am. And as I get older, I am finding ways to handle it better than packing up and moving, bailing on relationships, or quitting. I am learning to use the restlessness for good, to accomplish more, do more, and love more. -
13.1 Miles-Here I Come!
Determined not to let my current land-locked state hinder me, I have set off to cross another item off my bucket list.
The challenge: a half marathon. In eight weeks.
Being back in Indiana, far away from my little island has certainly taken its toll. For the most part, I am thankful to be home and I am really thankful to be closer to my family, but there is rarely a day that goes by that I don’t find myself looking wistfully out the window hoping it will be blue ocean I see instead of traffic. I know coming home was the right decision, but it has been a pretty stressful transition and I have definitely thought multiple times about getting on a plane and going back. So the stress levels have been high and after finally getting settled into an apartment (three months after arriving home), I knew I needed to do something to keep myself from breaking down.
After some prodding from friends, I was finally convinced to tackle the half. Its something that I have wanted to do for a while, but kept coming up with reasons why I would not be able to complete it and failure is not an option in my world. But after the fourth person asked me to run it, I gave in and found a training program that I felt I could finish. It is not quite as running intensive as some other ones I had researched and so far the knees and hips are doing great. I ran four miles Saturday and felt great! Monday a friend and I started week #2 off with a great 2.5 mile run and this morning I got up at 5:30 to train for thirty minutes before work. And of course, while the stress of life has not decreased, my emotional ability to handle it has increased. I am happier, I sleep better, and I am slowing learning to enjoy life here in Indiana. Not to mention, e-mail and Skype keep me in close contact with the reasons I miss Saipan the most!
So bring on the training, the sore legs, and hopefully the ultimate feeling of accomplishment. 1 week down, 7 to go!
-
Seeing Through the Blurriness
It’s amazing how much we take for granted our sight. Even if you wear glasses or contacts, you just never really think about the fact that you can see. Maybe it takes an extra step in the morning, but eventually you can see clearly and you go throughout the rest of your day not really thinking much about the fact that you can actually see. But what happens if that sight is gone? Or not as good? What happens when your prescription is out of date?
Things get blurry. It is hard to see. Words are fuzzy. Life is cloudy.
Welcome to my world.
Things are a bit blurry. My eyes aren’t working so great right now as I am in the healing process of PRK (a form of LASIK) eye surgery. I worked really hard and saved my money last year so that this summer I could have LASIK because I was over wearing glasses. I wanted to be able to see! And both my parents had it done so I knew it wasn’t a huge ordeal and a pretty safe procedure. Sadly I wasn’t a candidate for LASIK; my cornea’s were too thin so I had to have PRK which is basically the same procedure, just with a much longer recovery time. So instead of instant gratification, life is blurry. And may continue to be so for six or so weeks. Talk about a major bummer. But, as with most things in life, there is always a lesson to be learned.
First off I am learning the value of being patient. We live in a world of instant gratification and as such, I wanted instantly perfect eyesight. I am not very good at being patient anyways, but my eyesight is pretty crucial to my life. So this week I have had to take my time, read slowly, and use lots and lots of eye drops to simply continue doing the tasks normal and easy to my job. Its been frustrating to say the least. But as I have thought over my life, I can see this general theme. I am always in a hurry. I always want to get to the next thing. And I miss a lot in the process. But now that life is blurry, life is actually getting clearer. I have to slow down. I have to take my time. I have to take a break and close my eyes and breathe. And I can’t spend my evenings on my computer. I have to unplug and turn off the media. Ironically, that’s probably what I should have been doing all along.
Also, I am discovering that seeing clearly does not always have to be the prerequisite for acting clearly. We may not see the end result, the whole picture, or the fine details. But that does not mean we should shy away from acting. I could have spent the week lying around complaining, which, I’ll admit I did do some of. But I also spent the week connecting with people and dreaming and plotting for the next step. I have no idea the fine details. I can’t see the big picture. In fact, all I have is a blurry idea of what I want it to look like. But that is enough. That is enough to move forward. Because we aren’t called to know every detail, see every fine line, and perceive every possible outcome. We are simply to live and do and act. And that is exactly what I am doing. Despite so many things, I will continue to move forward, albeit perhaps a bit more slowly, but forward I will move because the fine details will fall into place at the right time. And eventually they tell me I will be able to read again.
So as with most things, I am growing and learning from something that was never intended to be that. And I am more confident in who I am and where I am going then I ever have been before. And really it all comes down to this:
Sometimes to see clearly everything has to get a little blurry first.
-
Not a Part
Seems like lately life has been full of a million changes that are also revealing more of myself to myself. Weird concept I guess, but it seems the more the outside changes, the more the inside changes. Growth we will call it. But there is one thing that has never changed. I do not like groups. Perhaps cliques or clubs or small groups are better words. Regardless of what you call them, I have never been one that wants to attach themselves to a group. I can tell you exactly why.
6th grade. Rough year I think for a lot of people. I had just moved half-way across the country, far from the only life and only friends I had ever known. I started a new school and because I was the new girl got instantly included in the “popular” group. It was awesome, or so I thought. I had friends that ate lunch with me, talked to me at my locker, dated only the cute boys-we were the “in” crowd. All was well until one day, I noticed a girl eating lunch by herself. I don’t think anyone should ever eat alone and so I decided to sit with her thinking my friends would understand. I mean, she was sitting by herself. Well, after a few days, the leader of the popular crowd comes to my locker and gives me an ultimatum. Them or her. I had to choose. I couldn’t be friends with both of them. I was devastated. I can still vividly remember sitting on the porch crying as I was now faced with an awful decision. I kept sitting with the girl. Which was fine until a few weeks later, the popular crowd decided they liked this girl and invited her to lunch, not me. In one month I lost both groups of friends. Thankfully, it turned out ok and I made a group of friends I still keep in touch with. We were so much alike and a bunch of nerds who sat around and read animorph books and played four-square at lunch. Not to mention we are all friends with most of the school in some capacity or another. I would have never talked to them had I not been “kicked” out of the popular kid group and eventually even the popular kids started talking to me again.
However, ever since then I have never wanted to attach myself solely to one group. I know what its like to feel left out, to be made to choose sides, and to ultimately get left behind anyways. I also know what its like to have friends that are your friend because of you, not because of who you hang out with. Thing is, one being part of one group, lends itself to one unpleasant consequence. You often get left out of all the groups. This happened numerous times in high school as I was friends with everyone and no one at the same time it seemed. I liked everyone, but when Friday night rolled around, it seemed more often than not, more people forgot about me. Same thing happened in college. When you are friends with everyone, sometimes it can feel like you are friends with no one. Thing is, I am still not willing to give in and attach myself to one group. I am a little weird. I can eccentric interests. And I am easily entertained. This leads me to be able to be friends with all variety of people. Yet sometimes, at the end of the day, I do wish there was that one friend you could always count on.
I had a friend like that in Saipan. But I am learning that what works so perfectly on a small island does not translate so well into the big sea of America. I am learning that being part of a group is how things operate. And if you aren’t part of a group, its sorta like a fish swimming upstream. Nevertheless, swimming I will continue because I know that life is much better when you are friends with everyone. And because you just never know when someone else needs a friend. Sure, I may end up spending some more Friday nights alone. And I may end up feeling left out a time or two. But then again, that just better enables me to minister to those who always feel left out. To love those who never feel like they fit in. Because I feel that way to. And I have made some of the most amazing friends and met some incredible people because I didn’t limit myself. Because I didn’t stay attached to one specific group.
So today my challenge is: step outside of your group for a minute and make a new friend. You just never know how much of an impact you may make. And you may never know when being left out is the best way to find a place where you fit in.