I've been obsessing lately over the idea of resurrection: Not just Jesus' (although that is the crux and the genesis of all others), but of others', and of my own.

Consider:

"I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title that can be given, not only in the present age but also in the one to come." -Ephesians 1:18-21

Two things strike me. First, that Paul's prayer is not that we would have hope or an inheritance, or great power, but that we would know that we have hope and inheritance and great power. Does this mean, then,  that our eyes can still be darkened, even if we believe? Can we wield an incredible power and not realize it, not put it to use?

Secondly, the same power that God worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead is currently at work in us. I know there will be a resurrection of the dead one day in the future, but the implication of these verses is that we are currently undergoing resurrection, currently being made alive in Christ. That resurrection happens daily.

It makes me wonder, when I read those stories about the people Jesus made rise from the dead: When did they know they were dead, and what must they have felt at the first moment when they breathed again? Did they have time, did they have eyes to see, at death, what had happened to them? Where they were? Did they know, at that first awakening to light, what had happened, where they were, what it meant? Or did they experience resurrection and not know the power of it, because the eyes of their hearts had not been enlightened?

Well I guess I'm officially 23. I watched the second hand of the clock creep past midnight while slouching in a chair at the Denver Post office, punching numbers into a database to keep track of the election results. It's occurred to me that this might be the closest I ever get to making money with my journalism degree.

The guy who's calling in the results from Larimer county is also a graduate, also working in a restaurant, also frustrated that this gig is the most he's seen of a journalism job since graduation. Somehow, it was the most comforting thing I'd heard in months: There are, in fact, others who are struggling to find jobs in their field. Somehow I need to keep perspective in mind: A vast majority of the world doesn't get to do what they would like to do as a career. They just work to make ends meet. Perspective, perspective.

Doesn't keep all the worries from swirling around in my head though, a list very similar to Dawn's: job, boyfriend, God, next year, family, friends, job, boyfriend, job, God, next year, family friends job job job. Picking up momentum, like rolling a boulder down a hill.

Mainly, the problem is all the feelings this job situation elicits: mainly worthlessness, hopelessness, powerlessness. Lies.

There are ways to fight it, of course: Talking to God. Writing. Writing has always made me feel less like a child hunched in a dark corner. It makes me feel more as though I can hold my head up, look the world in the eye. And meeting international students, making them feel welcome and less alone makes me feel less alone. And being around people who seem to value me. Being around people who say they value me.

I'm tired and very hungry, and I'm ready to go home.

I also can't help thinking, sometimes, that I wish I were Home.

Well, I had a really stellar day yesterday. Marc and I went up to my favorite place on the planet, Estes Park, and climbed a mountain to Gem Lake. It was a long climb, and we kept turning corners saying things like, "We must be getting close," only to find out that we actually had quite a ways to go still. The Aspen trees were all bare, and dead leaves littered the path. Intermittently, we'd reach open spaces where you can see one range of mountains tucked behind another and fading into the horizon. Each view seemed more breathtaking than the last. Finally, we passed between two rather large escarpments of rock and there was Gem Lake, a green pond flanked on two sides by cliffs. The sun just peeked out from behind a cloud, making the lake sparkle like a jewel while black birds soared and circled above the peaks of the cliffs. We climbed a big rock and sat for a long time, just thinking about how good God is, that he should make such beauty and let us enjoy it. I'm so thankful for Marc, that I can have days like that with him.

On my way home last night, I had what was probably one of the best prayer times of my life. Alone in my car, I didn't stay silent as I usually do in solitary prayer; instead, I talked aloud and cried and bellowed and sang.

It's difficult to describe what one person can mean to you, but it's even more difficult to try and explain a relationship with the living and all-powerful God. One of the questions on my mission application is something like, "Describe your relationship with God." I feel intimidated by the question. I could say the things we do together, or the things we talk about, but it doesn't come close to describing what we have together. There are no words for what happens between us. It's too powerful. It's too big.

Some thoughts on evangelism

Last night I went to a church service and the title of the talk was "Evangelism." The particular church is very artsy, very "emerging." A lot of people wear horn-rimmed glasses. They're influenced a lot by people like Rob Bell and Donald Miller. They like painting or writing or music, and more likely all of the above. They meet in a coffee shop. They talk about Revolution a lot.

Anyhow, the pastor, a very talented teacher, was pretty much raised in Campus Crusade, where Evangelism was/is explained to be about taking people through the four laws. He said he never felt like he could do it before; that this particular method made him feel incompetent, like he could never "do evangelism," if "evangelism" was just explaining tracs. His solution? Just make friends with people, and they will see the Holy Spirit working in your life and come to a knowledge of what the Kingdom of God is about.

But, see, I guess I have a bit of a problem with both of these modes of evangelism.

The trac method, as I see it, has a couple of flaws from where I stand. One is that it makes "evangelism" seem like something you "do" for a half an hour each week, instead of something you live every moment. Christians have really done a good job of making missions the same thing: It's become an event, not a lifestyle. The other problem is that while a person might get all of the information about the Gospel, they don't get to witness the power of God's love. This comes through relationship. And as Brad Buser once said, most of the world spells "relationship" T-I-M-E.

The problem with the relational model that was explained to me yesterday is, of course, the opposite. The way this pastor explained it was that the people you reach out to might not get a clear grasp of who Jesus is, but they will see his power in your life. They might not be able to grasp the four laws, but they will see your love for them (a channeling of God's love for them). Which is nice, but does it make a difference in eternity? "How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?"

Why does evangelism have to be one or the other? Why can't evangelism incorporate both the love and grace of relationship and also the clear explanation of the Gospel so that they might believe and be saved?