breathe.

I thought the football game this past weekend would serve as a great break from studying for the exams I have this week, and although we did win 51-0, the game turned into inspiration for a blog post more so than a fun study break. To put a long story short, within the first 10 minutes of the game, immediately after we scored our first of many touchdowns that night, the unfortunate event of having alcohol spilled all over me took place (which, I should note, is hilarious to me now). The dude standing behind me in the bleachers was apparently pushed by someone behind him, which caused him to then fall forward into me. It’s fine, accidents happen, but when I say that his drink, comprised of coke mixed with Lord knows what kinds of alcohol, spilled all over me, I mean, alllll over me — my arms, my jacket, my shirt, my feet, and yes, my hair. So it’s 10 minutes into the game and I’m already sticky, now reeking of alcohol even though I was sober, and my hair is now wet, tangled, and everything in between. Uncomfortable for sure, but I wasn’t ready to leave, so, I sucked it up and continued cheering on our Dukes! About 20 minutes later, said dude standing behind me who had previously spilled his drink on me, fell down & fell forward (he had had a bit too much to drink that day). This resulted in his 6 foot self knocking my 5’3 self right off of the bleacher I was standing on and onto the ground into the people in front of me.

…

You know how sometimes, when you get angry or irritated, you have to tell yourself to breathe?

That was pretty much me at this point. (though now I have a neat bruise on my foot to show for this ordeal). I stood there after this kid had slammed into me twice now, and I told myself to breathe. In retrospect, doing so made me think about how that was the first time I had actually consciously breathed in and breathed out. It was the first time I had paused, and focused on only my breathing.

You see, obviously, we typically don’t have to think about our breathing, right? We don’t have to remind ourselves to breathe, because our bodies just do it. It’s innate. But have you ever thought about how incredibly helpful it can be to do that? To actually pause, let your mind rest and think about nothing other than the mere act of breathing in and breathing out…

I don’t know about you, but when I’m stressed, something I’m great at doing is neglecting to allow myself time to pause and breathe. I continue to go, go, go, because when I know there is work to be done, exams to be studied for, applications to work on, essays to write, emails to send, I have trouble putting aside things on my to-do list in order to catch my breath. I am certain I am not the only person out there guilty of that. Typically what happens with that is I keep going, going, going until one small thing will stop me in my tracks and open my eyes to how desperately I need to stop for a hot minute and catch my breath. I’m about to enter week 5 of senior year and each day I have felt as though I have had time to do anything but breathe. I even wrote in my planner last week, “reminder: breathe” and I can think of only 1 instance where I actually attempted to be intentional about doing that. It’s hard. But when we do that, it puts things in perspective. It gives us time to step back and realize that the entire world is, in fact, not all on our shoulders. I encourage you to be intentional about doing that.

Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.

That’s how I breathe when I run, and how I breathe when my anxiety is really bad. The physiological effects of anxiety are sometimes horrendous, and breathing is difficult in the moment. Just yesterday, for example, anxiety decided to disrupt my walk home from campus, so when I got home, I sat down on my couch, and I breathed. I focused solely on that — breathing in and breathing out. And it helps, cliche as it may sound.

You can only continue going, going, going, and you can only bottle it up, brush it under the rug for so long before something gives. Don’t let yourself be the thing that gives. Allow yourself time to pause. To breathe. To simply ‘be.’ I encourage/challenge you (and myself) to take time to breathe this week. No matter how busy you are, no matter how stressed you are from work or school or anything else. Take time to pause. Be intentional about breathing in and out and having no responsibility other than that — just pause, every hour, every few hours, every few minutes, and focus on your breathing. Have a mantra you repeat to yourself. Pray. Meditate. Ask God to be with you. Remind yourself God is holding you in the palm of his hand! Remember he is strong and is able to lighten your load if you would just simply ask! Personally I have been clinging to this verse below recently, & perhaps it’s one you can carry with you this week:

1 Corinthians 1:25:

“God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom,

God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”

Advertisements

wholehearted dependence || senior year.

Somehow, here I sit — a gal who has just completed her very first week of senior year – how crazy! I feel as though I was JUST moving into my freshman dorm room yesterday, and now, I am sitting here in my house, which conveniently sits right across from campus, and I am unable to stop thinking about how crazy it is to be in my fourth year of college already. Those years have flown by, but I suppose that is a post for another day.

This past week, I began my senior year of college! The week was long, difficult, & stressful, along with every other synonym for all of those words. I am enrolled in five classes this semester, all psychology, and I am so excited for them! The classes consist of abnormal psych, psych of leadership, counseling, diversity issues in psych, and sensation & perception. They all seem so interesting, and I love learning, so I cannot wait to see what more I’ll learn about psych at the greatest university on the planet (I do apologize in advance, though, to all of the people whom I encounter on a regular basis, because I will undoubtedly be analyzing you and trying to diagnose you in my head).

Along with my classes this semester, I am applying to seminary. As many of you know, I am in the process towards becoming a pastor, specifically, an Elder in the United Methodist Church, and one requirement for that process is to pursue and earn my M. Div. So, slowly but surely, I have been creating my accounts, opening and starting my applications, drafting my written statements, asking for recommendation letters, and figuring out the various deadlines for each seminary I am applying to.

There were many times throughout this past week that I thought to myself, “yep, this is impossible to handle.” And I’m sure there will be many more occurrences throughout the semester in which I will think that to myself. But two words that I’ve been clinging to that I think really sum up what having God in my life means, especially during these crazy stressful seasons, is wholehearted dependence. Just last night as I was journaling, some of the words that flowed right off my heart and onto the page were, “I can’t see how I’m going to handle this semester, because I am not the one handling it — we are — You and me, God.” 

I feel like I don’t even have time to be sitting down right now to breathe and write this post, but first and foremost, self care is still important, no matter how busy you get, and secondly, perhaps you need to be reminded to have this wholehearted dependence on a God who is always faithful, in every season and in every moment.

This week seemed like just about the longest week I’ve had in a while, and perhaps that’s because it began on a not so high note. I got back into Hburg this past Sunday, and I was super disorganized beforehand, because I only had 1 week after getting home from Cuba to pack all of my stuff and uproot myself to Hburg for the semester. I basically unpacked and then repacked and by repacked I mean I threw everything into suitcases and then into my car and called it “packed.” And of course, my move back to this town for my senior year wouldn’t be complete without a little excitement!

On Sunday, I left church with the worst pain and irritation in my right eye. It was as though somebody was taking a toothpick and poking my eye with it continuously. I walked out of church after the church and someone in the parking lot asked me if I was okay, because they thought I was crying, due to how my eyes were watering uncontrollably from the pain, and would not stop twitching. The pain did subside once I had sat in my car for a few minutes, so I began to drive home from church, but when I was about three minutes from home, it began again. I pretty much had to drive with one eye shut, which was stupid on my part, but, I will never do it again, I am alive, and so is everyone I passed on the road. I got home and bolted out of my car to grab my mom and ask for her help, because I thought for sure something was in my eye that I just could not for the life of me see. My mom and sister were planning on coming back to Hburg with me anyways to get me settled, which worked out well, because while I thought I would be able to drive, when I arrived at the gas station before getting on the road, my eye pain, twitching, and watering started again, and there was no way I was going to drive over a mountain like that. I hate driving over Afton mountain even with 20/20 vision, I was not about to do it with an impaired right eye. So, my awesome sister drove my car, my mom following behind. My eye twitched and watered and hurt the entire hour long drive back to my house at school. I was miserable, felt nauseous, and began to get a headache. So, they took me to urgent care once we got back to Hburg, where I got a a bunch of eye drops and found out that I had a corneal abrasion. The provider gave me an antibiotic ointment to put on my eye lid 4 times a day for 5 days (I’m now done with the antibiotics and feeling much, much better!) If you’re wondering what caused the abrasion, I’m afraid I don’t have some cool crazy answer for you. The doctor seemed to think that I originally did have something in my eye, and when I went to try get it out, I scratched the cornea. But anyways, that’s how this week started. I coincidentally do not have class Monday’s or Friday’s, so, Tuesday rolled around, and sure enough, it gave me yet another story:

All summer, I had been waitlisted for a class that I need in order to graduate. I was seventh in line to get into the class, which meant that it was pretty positive I would not get into it this semester. So, I began looking for a back up. Well, pretty much everything I would ever be interested in taking, was full (remember: 20,000 students go to this school). I need at least 15 credits this semester and 15 next semester in order to graduate with enough credits, because of how transferring worked out for me. My back up class ended up being a diversity issues in psych class, which I do not need, but I needed another class in order to be enrolled in 15 credits. Well, I was on the waitlist for that class, too. I was confident that I would get an override if I just showed up to the class and asked the professor for one, considering that I was the only person on the waitlist. However, when I showed up on Tuesday, I went up to the professor at the beginning of class to ask her about an override, and she told me that she does not give overrides because she wants the class to be as small as possible. So I left after she told me that, practically in tears, and I went to my department building to try to find another class online. Right when I sat down at my computer and logged into my university account, I saw that I had been enrolled in the class and off of the waitlist for that class — that class I had just been told I couldn’t be in because I was on the waitlist.

“Okay, God…I see you!”

The entire time I was waitlisted in that one class over the summer (the first class) I wasn’t worried about it at all. I trusted that it would work out one way or another. I am so close to graduation — I knew I would be okay, which doesn’t mean that I can just not work and expect God to have everything fall into place for me, rather, it means I was at peace while doing all that I possibly could to make it all work out…one way or another. Because when I think about it, that’s how it has always worked. God has always made a way, even if it wasn’t the ‘best way’ in my opinion, it was the way in his eyes, and it has always been better than any plan I could’ve had for myself. So rather than worrying myself sick about something that I ultimately had zero control over, I chose to believe it would work out…one way or another. All of that stems from my vivid memory of my first semester here at JMU — one night I paced back and forth outside of the library sobbing on the phone to my mom about how I thought I was going to fail calculus and never graduate college let alone graduate on time…………and here I am. God has gotten me this far. He has taken care of me. He will take care of you. He will take care of us, always.

When I got off that waitlist and into the class, I was hesitant at first because it was not my first choice, but after pausing in my tracks for a second, I thought maybe that was God saying to me, ‘hey, go for it — this is me taking care of you, again, as promised’

This week, while I have been going, going, going, and while crawling into bed has been the most satisfying thing in the world, every night, I haven’t let myself go to bed without reminding myself that God has me — that I am taken care of by him, today & always. He will be with me as I stress about classes and as I get all of my seminary applications and documents submitted by each of their deadlines. He will be with me while I take my exams, embrace this last year of school with my friends, and he will be with me when I find out if I’ve gotten accepted or rejected from these seminaries. He will be there, and he will have me in the palm of his hand, no matter what. We’re so lucky to have a God like that. This past week, I got to share at my church here in H-burg about my time in Cuba, and it reminded me of 2 things, including that, but also,

(1) The world is so much bigger than we see it and (2) I am called.

Cuba opened my eyes in many different ways to many different things, and I’m still processing what all of those different things are. But I miss it so much, and I can’t wait to go back one day (soon!!!), which reminds me that this world is so much bigger than school. It’s bigger than the view we have of ourselves and of life right now as students in college.

(2) I was reminded that I am called to minister. I’m not called to school, I’m not even called to seminary — those are steps on the path that I need to take and am excited to take, in order to get to my goal and call to become a pastor, but school is not my final goal nor should it cloud my vision from the opportunities I have right here, right now, to minister. I’m called to serve wherever I am. I’m called to love wherever I am and whomever I’m around. I’m called to show Jesus to people who know him already and people who do not. I am so excited to continue pursuing God’s call upon my life, here, where I am now, at the greatest university on the planet, as well as in the future, in seminary and beyond.

This semester is going to be difficult, and stressful, and filled with lots of coffee and probably some mental breakdowns and crying sesh’s here & there, either in my church’s sanctuary or on the phone with my parents. But I will always get back up. I have wonderful people surrounding me all of the time, I live with 5 of the greatest gals I know, I have amazing friends, family, and mentors loving and supporting me, near and from afar. And I have the greatest God, who I know has me in the palm of his hand.

I really appreciate any prayers you have to offer for this semester that is before me, and please let me know how I can be praying for you! & Remember to have that wholehearted dependence on our God — He is faithful and steadfast always!

Cuba 2018 || the people.

Its been four days since our team got back into the States after 10 days in Cuba, and I am realizing, through my talking about it & reflecting on my time there, that no words will ever be sufficient. I kept telling myself that I would write a post about the trip when I had, “the right words,” but there are no ‘right’ words to sum up or describe the 10 days we spent in Cuba the way it deserves – in a way, I think that is actually pretty special. Words are so powerful, and for a mission trip to be so powerful that not even words can fully grasp it, is pretty amazing to me. I think maybe it can only be understood and grasped through living & experiencing it, and I am forever thankful to have done just that. I realize it doesn’t help me much as a writer or blogger, to struggle to find words to encompass what those 10 days were to me, but I couldn’t not write about it, so here I am, just typing and seeing where the words go.

I am still reflecting on this trip each day, letting it all sink in, and taking away lessons from my experience there — I think my time in Cuba impacted me more than my mind & heart are able to grasp and realize right now, which is why I’m sure there will be many more than just 1 post. Firstly, how a mission trip affects you is something I feel you can never quite fully prepare yourself for — you can plan, you can pack all of your necessities, you can talk about it, you can have a (very) tentative itinerary, but there is a lot that you will not know until it’s happening, and a lot that could happen that you simply cannot plan for. From the very beginning, since the day I said, ‘yes’ to this opportunity, I was most excited about the people — the relationships that would be built, both with my teammates and with our brothers & sisters whom we would meet in Cuba. That was what made me most excited, and as I sit here, 4 days post-Cuba, I can confidently report back that the people are what made this trip what it was; the beautiful, beautiful people of Cuba were a part of the trip that I most certainly could have never prepared myself for.

The relationships we built with those in San Juan de los Yeras over the course of a short five days continues to leave me in awe. Before I even met any of them, I would so easily refer to them as my brothers & sisters, because God kept reminding me that they are my family — that we are all one in Christ, and wow, what a difference that makes when it comes to our perspectives and view of others — when we remember that we are all part of God’s family, & that no race, ethnicity, nationality, or language changes that. They are our brothers & sisters, and they inspire me — they persevere, they are tenacious, they are innovative, they are kind, they are generous, they are passionate, you won’t find them complaining or looking at themselves as victims, they love the Lord with all their heart & mind & soul & strength, and they rely on him to the extent that I am still striving to rely on him. And the people I got to call my teammates, who I grew such a deep love & care for over the course of 10 days makes me grateful every day. One of my favorite things to do is to truly know people; to know their strengths, their gifts, their likes, dislikes, and watch them be lights for God. I got to do that on this trip, whether they realized it or not, they each taught me something about themselves and about God and I just love that.

Beth and Kevin are two of the most intelligent individuals I have ever met on this planet. I had the pleasure of sitting in the same row as them on the airplane all four flights, and I found that while everyone else was watching movies, sleeping, or listening to music, Beth & Kevin would sit there and pass the time by doing crossword puzzles or studying a Spanish textbook. Kevin also has a wonderfully unique and simply astounding singing voice. Mary Kaye sings also, and when she sings, the type of sound that exits her mouth is one which you may imagine hearing upon entering the gates to Heaven — I am pretty positive my jaw dropped to the floor and remained there every time she would sing. The presence she has when standing before large groups of people is confident & lovely, as is her spirit, in general. She is so great at connecting with people, which is something I got to witness so well in Cuba through her interactions with the people there. Larry is so subtly hilarious, and also wears many hats — he is a preacher, a bus driver, great at speaking Spanish, and I bet you didn’t know he also has his own bank, “The Bank of Larry — open 24/7.” Paul is remarkably kind, a wonderful pastor & pal, he is always encouraging others, has great wisdom to share, he listens intently to what you have to say rather than simply thinking of how to respond while you’re talking, and is also so, so great with children. Gary was our ‘doctor’ throughout our time in Cuba, and he carried out the title well. He is a calm presence if I’ve ever known one, he checks in on you, and he is a BOSS at the game UNO (but he’s not as great as Pastor Gaspar, sorry Gary). Gary also let’s people pick on him (but not without dishing it right back to you). Joanna is a painting pro, she is so fun to be around, she loves well & cares for people well, she is full of energy, and always up for anything. I do wish I had a penny for every time the words, “where is my wife?” came out of Paul’s mouth — but the answer is that she was always off enjoying herself & taking awesome pics of the beautiful places we journeyed to! Also, the love between those two is #MarriageGoals. Viv – Viv is one of the sweetest individuals you will ever meet. She goes with the flow, never has anything negative to say about anything or anyone, & you will never heard a complaint come out of her mouth. She is the definition of optimistic and I strive to have that amount of optimism! Meredith has the best personality and a spectacular attitude about life & about whatever circumstances she finds herself in, especially on this trip, where she fell down not one but two times. She also so easily formed bonds with the people, especially 15 year old Diana. P.J. is the definition of free spirited. She’s like a little kid in the best possible way, she is super fun to be around, and is always so excited about everything which I LOVE. She was cracking everyone up the whole trip. Kerry has the best work ethic – he sets his mind on a task, he problem solves well, and he helps gets the job done. He is independent but also simultaneously works so well with a team. He has the softest heart, is great with children, and with being relational in general. And when he leads a devotion, or prayer, or communion, he speaks in such a calm manner that one can only attribute to the Spirit.

Those are the people I got to travel with, and I have to say, traveling with an A+ team like them and then meeting even more amazing people during our time in Cuba filled & continues to fill my heart in a way I really cannot express in writing.

I would go as far as to say I was convicted on this trip in that I did not realize how much more I really need to be showing the love of God through my own actions, until I met the people of Cuba, and was shown so vividly how Jesus loved with his actions. Way before I left for Cuba, I was talking to a friend of mine expressing some concern because I barely know any Spanish, and she told me, “on the mission trips I’ve been on, I’ve found that God’s love always overcomes those language barriers.” I had no idea just how true that statement would play out to be. God’s love is something that should be shown more than merely talked about. I witnessed, experienced, and received God’s love on this trip in ways I had never before. I received love & generosity from people who are more rich in it than I have ever been, and I’m thankful for that conviction. I’m thankful for the love I was shown and thankful for the presence of so many beautiful people all in one place for those 10 days (especially the 5 days we spent in San Juan). I was so content being surrounded by these beautiful people, listening to them, laughing with them, playing UNO with them, worshiping with them, sharing meals with them. And it’s funny, because I’m an introvert, so while I love & adore people, I need my time alone to gain back energy I pour out eing around people for long periods of time, but on this trip, I was constantly around people, and not once did I become anxious and tired of being around people. Id be lying if I said I was anxiety-free the entire trip, but never any anxiety about being around so many people so often. To me, that was God giving me the energy, strength, and fuel he knew I needed to be my happy self and be present on this trip, with the people — my brothers & sisters. That was a common theme throughout those 10 days — God doing what only God can do.

The verse I clung to during this trip was Psalm 4:3,  “the Lord takes personal care of the faithful (CEB).’ It’s the first verse I opened up to in Psalm when I was preparing to lead devotions our first morning in Cuba (Saturday, the…). Every single person on our team was there because they were faithful to God’s call to ‘go.’ I was comfortable outside of my comfort zone, and I think that so describes what life with God is — he calls us out upon the waters, literally out of where is comfortable, and he takes care of us the whole time –  never fails. I never in a million years would have seen myself going to Cuba on a mission trip, or preaching in another country with a translator, but I said to God, “here I am,” and so there I was.

& I will be back. I knew the moment I got there that it would not be my only time in Cuba. The people — they, I believe, make Cuba the place it is. The country is beautiful, the old cars are neat, the history is fascinating, sad, difficult to understand, & yet powerful, but the people — you know the beauty of Cuba when you know the people. I cannot wait to go back.

This picture was from Wednesday evening worship — we were each gifted with straw hats which we had no idea about…there were many hugs, tears, and smiles.

weak enough to lead?

This year at annual conference, as I was scanning the Cokesbury section, I came across a book titled, “Weak Enough To Lead” by James C. Howell. The title jumped out at me in such a way that I didn’t even need to read the summary on the cover before snatching it off the table and heading up to the register to purchase it. The book jumped out at me because its topic was one which I have wrestled with a lot in life, feeling as though weaknesses somehow deem me incapable of leading, especially, leading in ministry and as a pastor someday. At times, I have found myself plagued by this feeling of defeat, as though I was too weak or ‘not cut out’ for what God has called me to do. I have always been a perfectionist, always set high expectations for myself, and am hard on myself if I ‘fail’ or don’t reach my goals at the very time that I had planned. I don’t like to complain or dwell on bad things, and admitting struggle or weakness is something I am not great at. So, perhaps, after stating all of that, it’s not too hard to imagine this book being one that I just couldn’t pass by. As I have read it more and more, I have found that it addresses every single thing I have listed above, and more.

Many times, I have thought to ask myself, “am I too weak to lead?”

But never once have I thought to ask myself, “am I weak enough to lead?”

That is the very question this book examines:

Am I weak enough to lead?

My recovery is something that I am very open and honest about in my conversations with people and in my writing, which many of you know. I am almost 5 1/2 years in recovery from anorexia, and I’ll actually be on a mission trip in Cuba on the 5 1/2 year mark, but you better believe that I am still going to jump up and down a few times out of joy and celebrate the accomplishment it is to me. Something I am not so open about, however, is the fact that recovery is a journey more so than it is a one time decision, and like any journey, it has bumps, detours, obstacles, highs, lows, and everything in between, and for the sake of being honest and at the risk of being vulnerable, I do still struggle at times with my recovery, and it is for that very reason that, at times, it has made me feel as though I am somehow too weak or too incapable of leading. This isn’t because I see my recovery or the fact that I have struggled with an eating disorder as a weakness, rather, it is something about my life that is not perfect, and as a perfectionist, one can see how that could affect my confidence in my leadership abilities. It wasn’t until recently that I came to the realize and truly believe that being a pastor and being in recovery are not mutually exclusive. I thank God for helping me realize that, and I thank him for continuing to assist me in believing that.

My recovery and the ministry I am called to are two of the most important things in my life, and God knows that full well. He knows that I am in recovery – heck, he has been with me every single step that I have taken since day 1 of being diagnosed, to day 1 of beginning recovery, all the way up until now, and he’s still trekking along beside me, behind me, and before me.

God also has called me to be a pastor. He has called me to a life of ministry for him, in service to others. God knows I have weaknesses, and in fact, he knows those weaknesses inside and out, better than even I do. Even so, that doesn’t diminish his confidence in my ability, through him, to pursue his call upon my life to be a leader in the Church.

I don’t personally think for one second that God looks at us and thinks, “she is strong enough for this” or “he is strong enough for this.” God doesn’t call only people who have no weaknesses or no imperfections, because if we’re being honest, those people don’t exist. This book has made me think about the possibility that, rather than calling us based on our strengths or how equipped we are, God looks at us and says,

“She is weak enough – I will give her the strength she needs to lead and I will use her weaknesses for the benefit of my kingdom.”

“He is weak enough – I will give him the strength he needs to lead and I will use his weaknesses for the benefit of My Kingdom.”

Brothers and sisters, it is normal – innate, even – to have weaknesses. There are many differences between you and me and everyone else in this world, but something we all have in common is that we all have weaknesses. We all have brokenness. We all fall short. We all have pain. We all endure hardships. We all sin. We all mess up. We all fail. We are all imperfect. No leader is without any of those things.

I am thankful to have not only a hand full, but two hands full of mentors, pastors, and simply amazing leaders in my life, and one of the many things I respect most about those leaders is their willingness to acknowledge weakness, to be vulnerable, to show emotion, to admit when they don’t know something, to acknowledge their imperfections, to admit their faults, to talk about their fears and their challenges, and let people know that being a leader doesn’t negate the fact that you’re still human. I pray to embody that authenticity as an individual and as a pastor someday. I have more distrust than I do admiration for leaders who try to portray themselves as these perfect individuals who are never weak. Because that’s fake. We all have weaknesses so to portray yourself as though you have none is inauthentic and misleading for those who look up to you and those whom you are leading. Having weaknesses and being a leader are also not mutually exclusive. If anything, they make you a better leader.

I am preaching to myself just as much as I am preaching to you when I write this, but do not be ashamed of the things that you consider to be weaknesses in your life, especially when you have a God who is eager to use those weaknesses! Don’t cover them up, rather, embrace them. I know that is easier said than done, but God can actually use them and perfect his strength in those weaknesses. Our weaknesses do not deem us incapable of leading. We are weak, but God is strong. We have flaws, but God is flawless. We are imperfect, but Jesus was & is perfect. I encourage you to ask the question: Am I weak enough to lead? & What does that mean to and for you?

To close out this post, I wanted to leave you with a quote to contemplate from the book I just have mentioned above (I strongly recommend picking up a copy!!)

…Is it that God uses our strengths? Or is it even truer that God’s strength is perfected in our weakness? (Howell, 2017). 

---

 

Loving and gracious God,

Thank you for using our weaknesses, perhaps even more than you use our strengths. Thank you for being present in our lives as a stronghold and rock, so that we don’t ever have to rely on our own strength. We pray that when we feel incapable or weak that you would remind us that yes – we are incapable and we are weak but you are strong and you are capable. We pray that you would fill us with spirit and enable us to go out and lead, and serve, in your Son, Jesus’ name. We pray that we would be weak enough to lead. Take our pride, God, and take our desire to be perfect and replace it with humility and peace not only in who you’ve made us to be but in who you are. We pray all of this in your name –

Amen. 

 

Last Sunday

This past Sunday, I filled in for the pastor of my home church, which is always such a joy – it doesn’t get much more fun than leading the church you’ve grown up in. Normally, I, being the sappy person I am, take time to write after each ministry experience I have, whether on the blog or on social media, simply because I love keeping the memories of the ministry that I have the privilege of being a part of, given every experience is special, different, and teaches me lessons that I want to carry with me as I continue on this journey. However, I didn’t make a post about this past Sunday, I wasn’t going to write about it at all, and I would have been perfectly fine with simply forgetting Sunday happened, if that tells you anything about how much I need to work on not being hard on myself for things I can’t control. While it may have taken me a little longer than usual to see the good in this past Sunday, I see it clearly now and finally wanted to write, because writing is therapeutic, and also because I think it’s important to share the wonderful ministry experiences, as well as the tougher and more challenging ones. After all, that is ministry – a beautiful mess, amen?

Sunday was one of the more challenging leadership experience’s I’ve had, not because of anything bad, rather, because it required a lot of quick thinking and leadership skills that I had never really put into practice before. It was just one of those Sunday’s where some things didn’t go quite right, and we had to improvise (which, I’ve found is rather frequently the case in ministry). If I’ve learned anything in so far in my ministry journey, it’s that you can only plan so much, which really goes for any field, I’d say.

So – last Sunday.

We had our 9:00 am blended service, and all was well. I did, however, have to essentially cancel Communion, although it was in the bulletin and already on the alter. I, someone who is not yet an ordained elder, am not allowed to preside over Holy Communion, so, while nobody wants to be the person to cancel Communion and change up the order of worship, I also didn’t want to be the certified candidate who got in trouble for doing something they weren’t supposed to. So, after granting myself a minute to figure out what to do in place of the Communion that was supposed to happen, I pulled my thoughts together, improvised, and led the best way I saw fit. I couldn’t preside, and I obviously couldn’t skip over it without saying something, so, I made the executive decision to nix Communion, and instead, provide a time of quiet reflection and prayer, which I would then close out in a longer, post-communion prayer.

It was fine. Before the moment of silent prayer and reflection, I told the congregation why we could not have Communion that day, and during the quiet time, people still took advantage of the alters and prayed, which I was so happy to see. It didn’t throw anyone off and there were no folks with torches and pitch forks coming after me after the service ended for canceling the Sacrament, so, all was well. In fact, after the service, people were quick to make it known to me that they understood why I did what I did.

So then, the second service rolled around at 11:00 am. Normally, I wear the mic that my pastor always uses, which goes around the ear, but on Sunday, the sound guy and I decided to use a different mic (shout out to Carl – he rocks). The decision to use another mic was mainly because that particular ear mic always gets stuck in my long hair, but also because I absolutely hate that mic (# preacher probs?). The mic that we chose to use clipped right onto my shirt and the battery box fit right in my pocket – simple, right? We tested it before the service, changed the batteries, and it was fine (for the time being).

During the sermon at the second service, the mic started giving me major problems. I thought my hair was irritating it, as per usual, so I flung my hair back, but alas, even when my hair was nowhere near the mic, or the chord, it acted up. The mic started making this weird humming noise, and normally, I would continue my sermon as though nothing was wrong, but y’all – I could not focus on the words coming out of my mouth which I knew meant that the congregation could not focus on what I was saying either. I quickly came to the realization that there was no way I could continue preaching with it, but, continuing to preach as though everything was fine was all I knew to do.

Our sound guy, Carl, was waving at me from up in the sound booth (which overlooks the sanctuary, towards the choir loft) and he was pointing to go grab the handheld mic. Well, I didn’t know where the handheld mic was. Normally, it sits right next to the pulpit on its little shelf, but it wasn’t there. He continued pointing, so, after getting to a point in my sermon where a pause would be a little less awkward and abrupt, I winged it, walking over towards the lectern, where I thankfully spotted the handheld mic.

(If you’ve ever found yourself preaching a sermon while watching someone try to tell you something using only hand motions as a humming microphone is buzzing in your ear, it is not particularly the easiest thing in the world.)

But, I retrieved the handheld mic, made my way back to the pulpit, where I would finally be able to finish delivering my sermon with a mic that was much clearer and worked much, much better.

(or, so I thought)

Would you believe that not even 1 minute after beginning to use the handheld mic, it, too began not working, fading in and out every other word that I spoke?

I could see people in the congregation shaking their heads (which is really never something you want to see, ha). I saw the sound guys up in the booth scratching their heads and wracking their brains trying to figure it out. At that point, I (mentally) threw my hands up and kept preachin’ on, because at that point, there really was nothing else I could think to do. Thankfully, the sound on the handheld mic eventually started consistently working (still not perfect, but could have been worse). The service ended and I swear I have never taken such a big sigh of relief.

I am grateful for the encouragement folks had to offer me following the service, given the difficulty that we had had with the mics. Being told by others that they were proud of how I handled it really lifted my sunken spirits, even though it didn’t change how bummed I was, to say the least, about all of that. It is by God’s grace that I held my own and remained calm and collected, because I wanted nothing more than to climb into a corner and cry a few tears of frustration. But I am glad to have chosen to lead, rather than having given up or crumbled under the pressure to “fix it quickly.” And I know a large reason as to why I was able to press through that was due to the wonderful leadership of my pastors through the years who have modeled well for me how to handle these types of situations gracefully and calmly. (thank you, pastors!!!)

I am such a perfectionist, so although I could have controlled none of what happened on Sunday, I was hard on myself afterwards, because ministry is my heart, and so, I put my entire heart into leading these church services. But let me tell ya – ministry is a really great field to have your perfectionism challenged, and maybe even one day, these things will be able to happen without being a worry wart about it.

I am still super good at beating myself up over imperfections, even when I have no control over them, but I am working on it (as are all of us). I may be 21 and I may have been preaching for a while now but I am still human. No matter how old I am or how many times I lead church, I’ll always be human and I’ll always want to do my best. And on Sunday, I did do my best, it was just clouded by the mishaps. But I see it now!

While you and I cannot control everything that happens, we can control how we respond. Sunday, while I wasn’t able to choose to laugh it off or forget about it right away (hence why it took me till’ Thursday to write about it), I am able to laugh at it now, it just took me a couple days to let that lesson sink in – that you don’t have to be perfect even at the things you’re passionate about doing. And also, you choose whether you let something continue to bother you or not. You choose whether you’re going to keep on keepin’ on or whether you give up. Remember that!

Lastly, I just have to say that I am so thankful to be learning these lessons young, and gaining these different experiences, whether they are good, challenging, or somewhere in between. Ministry will always surprise me and throw new challenges my way, but I am so very confident in God’s ability to help me handle it all (something I neglect to remember often). Somehow, however, I have found somewhere in me enough crazy ti count all of this as joy, because ministry is just that – a joy, and it is something God has called me to. It’s beautiful, it’s difficult, but it is nothing less than a joy. To be in ministry everywhere we go, all for Jesus himself – to know him, to preach about him, to tell others about him, to share what he’s done in our lives, to have his call upon our hearts, to fill us with passion and his spirit to pursue those passions and calls, to go be disciples and to make disciples – what a life!

Today (& every day) I am grateful that nothing – no technology complications or any unplanned circumstances – can get in the way of the Holy Spirits power, which comes upon us and enables us to be witnesses of Jesus Christ.

We love ya, Jesus, & thank you for enabling us to press on — it’s all for You.

 

loving all our neighbors.

About six weeks ago in my psychology & culture class, we were assigned our groups for a project that we would be doing which focused on topics relating to social justice. For this project, each group would need to partner up with an organization either in our local community or on our university’s campus, in order to fulfill the project’s goal of helping spread awareness & education on these various topics.

My group of six partnered with our university’s Muslim Student Association, and the topic we chose to focus in on was religion, specifically, religious minorities and the stereotypes & misconceptions associated with Islam. Through out the course of this project, we attended meetings, as well as a couple of events during Islam Awareness Week, which occurred this past Tuesday through Friday. The events my group attended included a hijab workshop, as well as a talk given by a professor about the Shia and Sunni Muslims.

Yesterday, my group visited a local mosque to attend & observe a service consisting of prayer and a sermon, or, “Khutbah,”  followed by a Q&A.

This psych & culture class in and of itself has opened my eyes so wide & taken me out of my comfort zone all semester in ways I never expected a class to, and yesterday was no exception. As much as I would love to sit here and write that my decision to go to this mosque was one that I came to easily, that would be a lie. I wrestled a lot with my decision to go or not to go, mainly because, honestly, it made me uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable with the idea of wearing a headscarf, feeling as though doing so would be conforming to an aspect of a religion I don’t personally believe in. I was uncomfortable with the idea of going & being in a house of worship that I was so unfamiliar with. I was uncomfortable getting so up close & personal with a religion that I don’t practice & know so little about. These thoughts and feelings made me feel like a horrible person, but I’m not going to invalidate those thoughts & feelings or leave them out of this post, because it was all part of the process of me deciding to go. Though I understood all along that wearing the headscarf would be out of respect for their faith & that I would never even begin to think to be a guest in somebody else’s house of worship only to be disrespectful by not wearing the appropriate attire, and I knew that going wouldn’t somehow make me stop believing in Jesus or make Jesus mad at me. etc, the idea of going to a mosque simply just made me a little nervous. My initial thought was “I’m Christian – why would I go?” And that very question was the one I wrestled with the most, along with “why wouldn’t I go?” Something in me would not let me just say no or yes without first wrestling with the possibility of both. And so, I prayed, I talked with a couple friends, & I reached out to a pastor of mine. Because going would be pretty far out of my comfort zone, something I had on repeat in my head was a saying he told me, which was to, “get comfortable with being uncomfortable.”

Welp, that was exactly what I did yesterday. And honestly? There was not one ounce of comfort involved, so, aI simply chose to bask in the discomfort, and I am glad I did.

While my anxiety was vicious & I wish I could say I felt peace which surpassed my understanding as my pastor graciously prayed for me to have, I didn’t feel much peace, but that’s okay, and the reason I think that’s okay is because I realized, the whole time I was waiting to feel peace and comfort about going or not going, I was neglecting to remember that that is not at all what the Christian walk is about. It’s not comfortable. In fact it is seldom comfortable. I look down everyday and I see this bracelet that has not left my wrist since making it back in January, and its purpose is literally to remind me to ask God to take me and use me, whether it’s comfortable or not. Therefore, I have no business getting upset when he does just that. I’m allowed to be scared, but I need to try to do it scared. And so, I did.

 

I kept my nerves and my hesitancy to myself around my group members, but before we got out of the car upon arriving at the mosque, one of them expressed to me that he himself was nervous, in which I simply replied, “same” (while I, of course, was internally jumping for joy at the fact that someone else was feeling what I was feeling).

We walked into the mosque together as a group and were warmly welcomed and told how their Friday services usually go. We then placed our shoes on the shelf and entered the room where the prayer & sermon would take place. Upon entering that room, the women were directed to the back right of the room, behind a tall curtain, and the men were directed to the front of the room. We, the women, were then given headscarves to put on, and those of us not participating in the prayer were asked to sit towards the corner, so as not to get in the way as they carried out their prayer(s).

Was I comfortable? No. But I went & stayed through the service, through that not so fun feeling of discomfort, and left the mosque feeling glad to have gone, and eager to process it.

See up until an hour or two before we left for the mosque, I still was not sure I wanted to go, so, it goes without saying that I definitely wished that I had had somebody there to tell me Ashley, just go or Ashley, just don’t go, but I’m smart enough to know that none of my friends or mentors are dumb enough to tell me that & make it that easy for me, no matter how much I want them to. However, I think God did nudge me a little to go, through one of my group members. Our group met up before the service to go over our PowerPoint presentation for Monday, and during our meeting, we got to talking about the religions that we each individually belong to. After talking about that for a bit, one of my group members looked at me and said, “You are the only open minded Christian I have ever met.”

I thought to myself, “Alright God, I see you.” Also, “No pressure or anything.”

By this group members words, I was reminded of my call as a Christian, let alone as a future pastor, to be a witness for Jesus and who he is. I can’t effectively do that if I am around people who are similar to me all the time. I can’t do that if I reject people who belong to various different religions and I cannot love all my neighbors if I dismiss a select few of them for what they believe or don’t believe. If God put me in this group in which I am the only Christian, and in this class in which I am 1 of 2 Christians, that’s an opportunity to be a witness for Jesus by being like Jesus and showering them with the love of God — not an opportunity to add to the hypocrisy or hate or close mindedness that they have already experienced enough of from Christians. I know full well that I am no perfect embodiment of what a Christian is supposed to be like & I probably makes God roll his eyes at least 5 times a day, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t strive to imitate Jesus around everyone I encounter, but especially in the presence of people who have lost hope that such a Christian exists. I took this group members comment seriously, even knowing that I am not as open-minded as I should be or as I want to be someday. I also took it as a reminder of my responsibility to imitate Jesus more than I try to imitate a religious person who shoves a set of rules down people’s throats to follow.

So yesterday, I went, & I went for a lot of different reasons. I went to educate myself, to see with my own eyes how those of Islamic faith worship. I went in hopes of maybe helping to eradicate this belief that all Christian’s are intolerant of hearing beliefs different from their own. I went to face my feeling of discomfort for the sake of growing & having my mind opened. I went to show as much kindness as I could to those there, whether they worshiped Allah, Jesus, or no god at all.

I am not going to sit here and try to act as though my faith is really not all that different from that of my Muslim brothers & sisters, and I do not know everything there is to know about their faith, or my own faith for that matter, but I do know that my faith teaches me to love my neighbors – that means my Muslim neighbors, my atheist neighbors, my Christian neighbors, my neighbors of all races, ethnicities, genders, and socioeconomic status’. If I can get just one thing right in my walk with Christ, I pray that it would be that – loving other people unconditionally just as Christ himself did.

I am finding that the more I learn, the more questions I have. And I like to think that’s a good thing. I’m so lucky as to have people in my life who are willing to either answer those questions that I have, or simply wrestle through them with me, and I really urge you reading this today to find people in your life who can do the same for you, because it’s really nice to know you’re not alone in the confusions, frustrations, and questions you have.

I could definitely write more about this experience, but I am still processing my visit and am still processing this project and class as a whole, so that is all of the writing I’ll leave you with (for now). My hope & my prayer would be that as a society & as a world that consists of different cultures, individuals, and religions with similarities and with differences, that we would be able to reach a place of seeing one another for who we are, differences and all, and being okay with embracing just that, understanding that differences do not have to equal division. I am as guilty as the next person for allowing differences and my discomfort with unfamiliarity to stand in the way of embracing all people the way I should. We’re all imperfect & are going to mess up, but that’s no excuse not to try. So I’m preaching to myself just as much as I am to you when I say, go out of your way to learn about someone different from you. Educate yourself. Do your research. Expand your knowledge. And get comfortable being uncomfortable.

The Church & Social Justice

If you’ve ever heard the worship song, “Hosanna,” you may be familiar with the lyrics in the refrain which say, “break my heart for what breaks Yours.” I’ve listened to this song probably a hundred times before, and yet, I don’t think I’ve ever resonated with those 7 words more than I have this semester, and especially this past week. I have felt God breaking my heart for what I am confident breaks his, & more specifically have been left sick to my stomach about the injustices that are occurring every moment in this world, and the pure helplessness I feel when it comes to helping end those injustices.

This semester, I am enrolled in a psychology and culture class, which I know I talk about a lot, but this class is one that has opened my eyes so wide & changed my thinking in ways I never thought a class was capable of. Each Monday and Wednesday evening, I walk out of this class thinking about the many different cultures and social justice issues in ways I’ve never thought about them before, and in some cases, never thought about at all. Our class is comprised of individuals of different races, genders, ethnicities, backgrounds, religion’s, career aspirations, & political views, and it is taught by an Asian professor who is passionate about traveling and entrenching himself in the many wonderful cultures that exist in this world that we live in.

On Monday’s, we have class all together in one large room, and on Wednesday’s, we are split up into our smaller sections. We have dialogues almost every Wednesday in those section meetings, in which the class of 15-ish individuals has a discussion about whatever topic we learned in Monday’s class. This past week, the topic of discussion was race and ethnicity.

I sat during dialogue this week with my jaw to the floor for the majority of class as I listened to my classmates of color talk about interactions that they have had with certain individuals who treated them unjustly solely because of the color of their skin. My classmates spoke about instances in which they were pulled over while driving and immediately asked by the officer if the car belonged to them, under the assumption that they had stolen it, or instances in which they felt unsafe in the presence of police officers who were blatantly being racist to them – my classmates talked about how they were and are very cautious about moving a certain way for fear of them drawing their weapon. (please note: I & them know that not all police officers are this way – I thank God for the women & men in law enforcement who sacrifice so much to keep us safe) There was also one individual in this dialogue who is African American, and they shared about a time in which them and a friend were in a store and one store-clerk suspected that they had been shoplifting, so the store-clerk called the police and searched their bags, even though it ended up being a ‘false alarm.’ Instances were talked about in which blatantly racist individuals would make comments to my classmates of color, which, rightly so, left them feeling defeated & confused.

I left class that evening with a particularly heavy heart, as though I had the weight equivalent to a ton of bricks on my shoulders, for more reasons than one. That evening when I got home, I sat on my bed with my Bible open in front of me with tears of empathy and the feeling of helplessness rolling down my face as I reflected so deeply and processed so thoroughly what I had just heard my classmates so painfully described that day. I acknowledged that if my heart hurt this bad simply in listening to these stories that they shared, I cannot imagine how deeply it hurt to actually experience it. I acknowledged my desire to do more to help change this, but also acknowledged my frustration in not knowing where in the world to begin. I acknowledged the anger I have that this is seriously something people have to put up with because such hate and ignorance exists today.

I myself have been pulled over before for speeding, and yes I got a ticket (ya live & ya learn) but not once during my interaction with this police officer did I ever feel unsafe. I  have never had to worry about being treated unfairly by anyone because of my race. That is a very privileged position to be in. While I know full well what it is like to experience oppression & discrimination for being a woman, I don’t have a clue what it is like to be discriminated against because of my race, and I probably will never. But thanks to my peers who are in this class with me this semester, and in general being in college for almost three years now surrounded by people who are different from me, my eyes have been opened wider to these matters – not as wide as they should be but wider than they used to be, and I am very, very done acting as though I am blind to the fact that this is a problem which needs to be addressed.

I can’t not care about these issues, especially as a future leader in the Church. Social justice issues are not things that can or should be left at the church doors on our way in and not brought in and talked about. And personally, I am very done with the Church having so much fear of being “too political” that it neglects to bring difficult issues that are going on outside the church walls, into the church. These issues affect the Church, and they affect our brothers & sisters who are not in the Church, whom we should be ministering to. The Church is not supposed to be separate from the world, friends – the Church – the body of Christ (us) are not of this world, but we are still in this world. We need to be aware of what’s going on in the world and not be in a bubble closed off from it all. We can come to church and we can sit and act as though everything is fine but that will not change the fact that everything is not fine. When we walk out of church, injustice is still happening, and while I in no way have the answers to what the church can or should do, I know enough to write that the Church needs to do something & not nothing.

If we look to scripture, we find that Jesus himself was political. He was SO political! All you have to do is look at scripture to know that – read the Gospel’s. You’ll find that he did so many things that turned heads & went against the “norm” for the sake of doing GOOD & changing lives for the better.

Jesus was a warrior for social justice. And we’re called to live like him, right?

We don’t need to spend our time discussing which political party Jesus would have been a part of – Jesus wasn’t for the republicans or for the democrats – he was for people. We talk all the time about ‘what Jesus would do’ but never when it comes to things that may become controversial, and call me crazy, but I don’t think social justice is a political topic more than it is just another thing Jesus taught in the Bible, which we should be imitating. It’s something Jesus showed us how to actively advocate for in scripture.

Words are powerful, yes, but they are not always enough. We can pray, and we should pray. But friends, please know that wanting to take actions other than praying does not undermine or negate our belief that God can solve or heal this – what if God is yearning for us to GO and make the change happen that we are sitting around waiting for him to do? What if that’s his answer to this prayer? For us to go & be the hands & feet of Jesus in this? In all we do?

I know that requires action – actions that may make people look at you funny. But hey, the Pharisees questioned why Jesus was eating with the tax collectors & sinners, right? Jesus loved, welcomed, talked with, and cared for the least of these, he talked with a Samaritan woman, he worked on the Sabbath, he went against the norm, was an advocate for minorities – for those who didn’t have a voice, were different from him, & didn’t think they were worth anything. May we do the SAME.

This would be about the time where I would write “how” to do just that, but I can’t write that simply because I do not know how. I know I can love people. I know I can start having these difficult conversations, and know I am going to be more intentional about having those conversations with people in my life who are willing to listen & talk with me about it, even if we disagree with one another. I do find myself overcome by frustration for the very reason that I do not know the ‘right way’ (if one even exists) to go about taking the privilege I have as a white individual, and use it for good & to help those who do not have such racial privilege. I acknowledge I am so small compared to this huge issue facing our globe. But I refuse to let my acknowledgement of that keep me from trying.

So please know that I am writing this post today not as somebody who thinks she has all the answers – I don’t have the answers. I’m not even close to having all the answers and you very well could have disagreed with everything I’ve just written in this post. That’s okay. I wrote this today to lay out with a heavy heart what I am feeling, in this open way, so perhaps maybe we, together, can wrestle with it & discuss how to make progress in the right direction. This is something I am working on – it’s something I’m honestly just recently starting to work on actively. But I do want to actively work on it, and not let it be something that I acknowledge is a problem but then don’t do anything about it. I encourage you to work on it with me! And if any of you have any resources to better educate me, I am all ears.

I know progress has been made, and I hope we all never forget that. But I hope we also never forget that just because progress has been made, does not mean that there is not still progress to be made. I don’t know what that looks like. But maybe, just maybe, one of the very first steps in figuring that out, is acknowledging change is needed, & becoming educated to enact that change.

And if you are white, remember that nobody is asking you to apologize for being of the dominant race – you shouldn’t feel guilty and nobody should make you feel guilty, you never chose the privilege that you have. But we can choose what we’re going to do with it. So what will you do with the privilege you’ve been given? Will you use it to do good? To combat injustice? To make the world better for your brothers & sisters who are racial minorities? What are you going to do? Or will you sit back and refuse to believe anything needs to change?

I’ve been praying fervently about this and ask that you would join me. Like I said, I don’t have the answers, but God does. He cares about these things. He will give us wisdom and insight into what we can do. But my brothers & sisters in Christ, we need to talk about this, both with God and with each other.