bethy_joy's Xanga

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Tue, 03 Apr 2007 20:17:43 GMT

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?

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Wed, 08 Nov 2006 06:57:54 GMT

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.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Tue, 17 Oct 2006 19:44:04 GMT

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

Mon, 02 Oct 2006 23:29:43 GMT

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?

Friday, September 15, 2006

Fri, 15 Sep 2006 20:04:04 GMT

So clearly it's the Vision.

Vision or location?

Mon, 11 Sep 2006 02:42:26 GMT

it's the question that two completed unrelated people have asked me today. is it more important to go to a certain place, or is it more important to follow a specific vision?

And would you sacrifice place in order to follow the vision?

Friday, September 01, 2006

Fri, 01 Sep 2006 19:51:00 GMT

I can't even express or explain how badly I want to be overseas right now. It's so hard getting e-mails from people who are going to Africa and Asia in just a few days when I'm stuck here for at least another 9 months before even a short-term trip. I've been thinking a lot about preparations to go overseas long-term, and I think these will probably necessarily include:

-Getting a teaching license

-Going to seminary

Teaching license: Because it's kinda difficult for women to go to the middle east, but teaching is one fairly good way. I was reading online that because they don't have men teach women, there are always teaching jobs for women. I love teaching (love it!), and I know I'd be fairly happy doing that. I imagine I'd be a good English teacher. And if I am to go single, I can't imagine another way I'd possibly get in. Especially if I wanted to stay long-term.

Seminary: Because almost every missions agency requires a year of Bible. (Not that I wouldn't love seminary anyway...I think it would be brilliant).

Now, in order to get my teacher's license, that's at least another year here after this one...maybe two because I need to pay for it as well, so I need to earn the money first, because I refuse to go into debt. And if I go to seminary, that's at least one MORE year, plus time to earn that money...so we're talking a minimum of four more years of waiting, probably closer to 6 or 7, though.

And it's fine to go short-term during the summers and everything, but...there's no other way to say it except that I long to go. I long and long to go.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Tue, 29 Aug 2006 20:22:49 GMT

Quoting one of the godliest women I know:

"Let me confess that I have a longing to be super-spiritual on this thing, and to say wise and inspiring things that will make everyone think, "wow, she's an awesome Godly woman." My most frequent prayer these days, though, is "HELP ME God, I don't know what I'm doing and anything that's going to happen will have to come from you.""

So exactly how I feel--about starting a new job in a new city with new friends and a new church. I want to be able to tell people how much I trust God with everything and how I'm doing great because I am where he sent me--but truthfully, I'm lost and confused, and I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing here, and I wish more things were going the way I want them to go. Maybe I'm supposed to be learning to be content. In any case, this is hard.

But hey! God and I had an actual, back-and-forth conversation last night! It felt the way you feel when you're dropping out of a plane at 10,000 feet--terrifying and wonderful at the same time. I have to say, there's pretty much nothing in the world I needed more than just to have God speak to me. I'm starting to think there's nothing worse than silence between the two of us. It's like the love of your life giving you the cold shoulder. It ruins your entire day.

And having him speak is actually the one thing in the world that actually could cheer me up. So this is good.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Sat, 19 Aug 2006 21:37:32 GMT

I sort of feel as though I'm slowly being ripped in two like an old blanket.

Highway 85

Thu, 17 Aug 2006 03:28:49 GMT

at night, highway 85
is silent, the way you think
of god's breath. the road rises
up to meet you, suddenly,
and your headlights are the only thing
that shines. you lean
your forehead against the glass
window, and speed
by pastures that stretch for miles and think:
maybe i could just keep driving, could just
keep my foot on the pedal and drive.

at night, highway 85
curves and bends
so slightly and so soft,
you do not even notice as your thumbs
edge the steering wheel to the left, as you're glancing
about for the right sign.
you're squinting in the dark.

at night, highway 85
would have led to his house,
had you seen which way to go.
you don't. maddeningly,
highway 85 is silent, and still
and the only sound is the whir
of tires on pavement, and the cracking
sound of the fissure
gaping in your heart.