I’m selling jewelry to raise money for Liberty in North Korea, a non-profit organization that rescues North Korean refugees from hiding in China and helps them resettle in South Korea or the US. (www.linkglobal.org) All of these pieces are designed and handcrafted by me. =) If you’re interested in any of the pieces pictured and you’d like to help out, please make me an offer in the comment section or over e-mail.
Two weeks ago Monday, I had an assignment in my Evangelism course to share the gospel with an unbeliever. The night before, I was discouraged and felt like a horrible student and a horrible Christian for not getting it done. A good friend reminded me that one assignment can’t define me, and he cheered me up.
My professor granted me another week, so I continued talking to people and turning conversations to spiritual things. Frustratingly, by last Sunday night, I still hadn’t been able to talk with a lost person.
A friend and I were going around town (not easy without a car) and talking with people; most were students or alumni of our school as well as believers. I had talked to over twenty people over the course of the semester, and even though I had seen God move in the lives of a few of the believers my friends and I had talked to, I was ready to quit and just fail the assignment.
I was about to leave the coffeeshop when a man set down his cell phone and started to stare into space. I went over to him and started talking.
His name was Henry. He said he’d lived there in town his whole life, almost proof that he had already heard the gospel. I asked him where he went to church (I’m still looking for one), and he said he didn’t go.
“Why not?”
“Nobody’s ever told me what all that’s about.”
Really?
“Would you like me to tell you what Christians believe?”
So I pulled up a chair, and for the next few minutes, I shared with him the gospel. I didn’t use any formulas or methods, just the gospel. I explained sin, and without me even asking him, he told me he knew he had sinned. I explained the meaning of the death of Jesus, and he nodded and followed along. When I told him that anyone who believes and turns from their way to God’s way will be made right with God, and asked him if all this was something he wanted to believe, he said yes.
Henry and I prayed, and I asked a few questions to make sure he “got it”. My roommate met me halfway and brought me my Bible from my dorm to give to him. When I came back, Henry was sitting with the alumni and talking and laughing with them. My friend had an assignment due online that night, so we had to leave, and on the way back, I was ecstatic.
The thought that gave me so much joy was not that I was a success, that I could be happy now and not depressed, or that I had done a great job sharing the gospel, but the thought that God came through. He didn’t have to use me, or stop me before I quit, or even save Henry. But He did.
God came through.
Thanks to everyone who prayed for my sick roommate and me. She’s better, and I didn’t get sick. (Yay!)
On Wednesday, I gave a speech in my COMS 101 course. I had volunteered to go first, thinking that a 5-minute informative speech with a visual aid would be a breeze for a national-level Illustrated Oratory speaker.
As I worked on all the requirements of the assignment, I started to think through the speech in detail. My classmates know that I’ve competed in debate and am on the forensics team, and I felt like they were going to expect a really awesome, flawless speech. Actually, that’s what I expected myself. I ended up worrying about it and psyching myself up about it and then finishing the outline and citations at the last minute.
Literally. I printed them off as I was walking out the door to go to class and then barely arrived on time.
By the time I got to class, I had made myself so nervous that I gave what was probably my worst platform speech since my second year of competition. I stumbled over my words and had an awkward walking pattern and went way over time and all in all felt like I did terrible.
Now, my role model in forensics taught me that you can get away with half your mistakes just by acting confident and poised, and that’s true. My classmates were very encouraging, and my teacher gave quite a few positive comments, so perhaps what was a nervous, out-of-practice speech for me was a decent enough speech for the assignment. But I still tasted a tiny bit of that emotional devastation we tend to feel when we screw up at the one thing we expect ourselves to be good at.
This is where I messed up: I tried too hard. No one but me was expecting a speech that looked like it came from the final round at a national tournament. I keep forgetting that my identity and my worth are not determined by what I do but by God.
Pride-driven, perfectionistic works are exactly what God doesn’t want from us. That’s where the law-obsessed New Testament Jews tripped on the gospel. God wrote through Paul in Romans 11, “At the present time there is a remnant chosen by grace. And if by grace, it is no longer by works—if it were, grace would no longer be grace! What then? What Israel sought so earnestly it did not obtain, but the elect did.” What Israel sought through the keeping the law was God’s righteousness—perfection.
If you’re trying to impress God or the people around you by working hard to be perfect, stop. Learn from my mistake. There’s nothing wrong with aiming for excellence, but use your mistakes as a chance to thank God for His grace.
College is a place for learning, right? Some of what I’ve learned here is a result more of my experiences than of my courses. Last week, I learned how to defrost a mini freezer and how to longboard, and this week I learned where to go to improve my mood and that I’m more of a germaphobe than I thought.
Last Friday, my roommate pointed out that I had let frost build up in my freezer and that the directions say to defrost it when it was much less icy than it was. I had no idea how to get the frost out—it was a layer of ice half an inch thick in some places, I wouldn’t scrape off, and I didn’t want to use anything sharp in my mini-fridge (this just seemed like a good-sense precaution to me, but my mom told me later that piercing part of a fridge can release a toxic chemical). Most of the Google results said to turn off the freezer and put towels around the base to absorb the melted ice for the next 24 hours. Now, maybe if our room wasn’t carpeted, and maybe if it was a house instead of a dorm room, that might have worked. What we ended up doing was unplugging the fridge and using my hairdryer to melt just enough of the ice for us to pull it off in thick chunks. We did use towels, but the floor stayed dry. We collected the ice chunks in a bowl and then randomly got the idea to go throw them at a tree. And that is how we went from an appliance conundrum to a snowball fight in September.
That night, one of my best friends in the hall was walking back from dinner with me. We had talked earlier in the week about wanting to learn how to longboard. If you’ve never seen a longboard, they’re like skateboards, except for having thicker wheels and —no duh—being longer. They’re really popular here, and there are usually guys practicing skating with them and hanging out with each other in a parking lot near our dorm. As my friend and I walked past the lot, she decided to go over to two guys that were there that night and ask them if she could try. We spent the next half an hour longboarding with them and practicing the basics. They were friendly guys, really chill and laid back, and they seemed to think we weren’t too bad for beginners. (We didn’t tell them that we’d been observing how people longboard for over a week.) Now I’m considering buying my own board.
This week, my other roommate got sick. She was feeling ill yesterday, and this evening she threw up several times. I really did try to be caring and sympathetic, and I hope she recovers quickly, but my gut reaction to hearing people throw up is… well, a gut reaction. I didn’t want to be in the same room with her, and I didn’t want to touch anything of hers, or even anything of mine that had been even close to her, and I wanted to get as far away from the hall bathroom as possible. I realized later that I’ve always had this disgust of sickness. When someone in my family throws up, I feel this phobia where getting within 10 feet of them is risky, where anything they’ve touched for the past week is a toxic contamination, and where even the air in their room is filled with microbes carrying deadly plague. Irrational? That’s a phobia works! At home, though, there’s always another bathroom to use and another room to go into and sleep in, and I never noticed how irrational my fear is until now where I don’t have another room. And now I feel terrible for being illogical instead of compassionate. Fortunately, the roommate who threw ice chunks with me is away for the weekend, and some friends down the hall might let me sleep in their room. I’ve been outside pretty much all night, and when I came out of the woods because it was getting dark, I wandered around and found three guys who were playing guitar with each other. They were sitting in a perfect place to be heard from quite a distance, and they sounded amazing. I listened for a while until they left, and they said that people often play music near that spot on Friday nights. Somehow, hearing music that expresses strong emotions has a more positive effect on me when it is being played live than when it is recorded. I’m not sure why, but I felt surprisingly happy after listening to them.
I have actually learned some incredible, new-to-me information in my classes and studies, but I might have to start charging for tuition if I post about that. Please pray that my roommate gets better and that I don’t get sick.
Yesterday the school had a blood drive, and one of my professors offered extra credit to students who donated blood. I didn’t know if I’d be eligible, but from the requirements on the Red Cross website, it looked like I would. The one thing that I suspected might keep me from giving blood was low iron levels. To prevent this, my roommate and I looked up what foods would increase our iron… and what of those foods we could actually eat. We had in the room cereal that contained 100% daily iron in one cup and half of an entire watermelon that our other roommate bought for a picnic. (College life. Don’t ask.) We also read that tea and coffee prevent iron absorption and that vitamin C (found in citrus fruits and fruit juice) increases it. Not only did we find this information, we also put it into action at mealtimes.
When I was finally done with classes, I headed over to the makeshift Red Cross station, excited at the possibility of saving lives. After I waited for about half an hour, a volunteer took down my personal information. Then she told me that I did not meet the height and weight requirements and would be ineligible to donate blood. I was confused because of what I’d read online. Apparently the minimum weight on the Red Cross official website is a bit below what the actual requirement is, and the real requirement is kept secret since the volunteers don’t use scales and don’t want people lying and then passing out. I thanked the worker and left very disappointed that I couldn’t donate (and a little annoyed at the Red Cross for wasting half an hour of my time just because nobody thought to just be transparent and bring a scale). Then I had to put up with people joking about how I need a freshman fifteen for the rest of the day. (The short-person jokes aren’t worth mentioning because I’m used to that by now.) I’ll admit that a few other disappointing or frustrating things happened yesterday that also helped put me in a bit of a bad mood. Nothing like an emo-ish walk in rainy woods to make oneself feel better, I guess.
After getting over my bad day, I started to appreciate the fact that there are requirements for who can donate blood and what is (and isn’t) in their blood. My blood won’t be able to heal if it is infected or anemic. Furthermore, it won’t do any good healing someone else if my physical characteristics mean that losing it puts me in danger. In the same way, Jesus’ blood is the only cure for sinful humans in need of spiritual healing and righteousness. Just as Red Cross donors must have pure blood and meet personal requirements, the Savior had to be spiritually pure and had to represent humanity before God. His blood is acceptable to God because He is without blemishes or impurities (1 Peter 1:19), and His blood is sufficient for us because He took on our humanity (Hebrews 2:14, 18). Isn’t it kinda cheesy to talk about Jesus as a “blood donor”? Yeah, maybe a little. But it’s true that His sacrifice saves lives. He saved and is healing mine.
Oh, precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus
“In the morning, O Lord, You hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.” Psalm 5:3
Last night, my college had an event where students prayed for an hour each, all throughout the night. My hall’s time slot was 7am- 8am, so we were the last ones scheduled. We woke up at 6 to worship and prepare ourselves. The prayer centers were in front of a main academic building, all across the parking lot. I walked from center to center, talking to God. There was a station for personal surrender, one for confessing sin, one for missionaries, one for the students’ home churches, and some for various groups here like faculty, athletes, campus pastors, women, and men. Three centers were especially moving for me. The first was the family and friends station. I’m praying for several people specifically by name nearly every day, and my family is making a big decision now and adjusting to me being gone. The second was a board where we could come by and write the name of an unsaved person whom we are asking God to redeem. It was already covered in names– real people who are lost and yet so deeply loved– but I found a bit of white space for two names close to my heart. The one that touched me the most was a huge cross covered in sticky notes on which people had written specific praises to God and given thanks for all kinds of blessings. The directions suggested we include one thing God has done, one thing He is doing, and one thing He will do. Actually? That’s exactly what I’m thanking Him for most right now anyway! The joy of being able to write it down where someone else might see it and give praise to God made me cry a little. There were a couple dozen centers across the parking lot, and when I had finished, I sat down where I could see the sun that had just come up. It was beautiful. I can’t remember the last time I was outside for a sunrise. Why does God choose to create beauty in such a broken world? How can He hear each of us and care so deeply? This morning reminded me that prayer is not a ritual or a process, but communication with a living, passionate God.
C. S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity (Book III, Ch. 10, “Hope”),
The Christian says, ‘Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of a copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others to do the same.”
This desire is something I cannot lose– nor do I want to. Often I fall into the first extreme, becoming unhappy with earth and everything that is now wrong with it. Lately I’ve been inspired to value this desire in the right way. God’s kingdom is not something far out in some vague concept of “eternity” with no bearing on the present. The Kingdom of God is being established in this age. God has intentionally placed us on earth and commanded us to advance His kingdom now, every day. May I continually surrender more and more of myself to God, and may I help other hearts find their citizenship in the country that is to come. Even if it’s hard, or confusing, or painful, I know that the desire of my heart will be fulfilled, and when it is, every second in the present broken age will be more than worth it.
I particularly like this song, which is inspired by C. S. Lewis and several passages from the Bible:
Welcome to my new blog. The name comes from my life verse, Psalm 19:14– “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in Your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.” (NIV)
This quote is from a Quaker author, Hannah Whitall Smith, in The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life, Chapter 5:
“You have given yourself to Him over and over daily, perhaps for months, but you have invariably come away from your seasons of consecration wondering whether you have really given yourself at all, and whether He has really taken you; and because you have not felt any change, you have concluded at last, after many painful tossings, that the thing has not been done. Do you know, dear believer, that this sort of perplexity will last forever, unless you cut it short by faith? You must come to the point of reckoning the matter to be an accomplished and settled thing, and must leave it there before you can possibly expect any change of feeling whatever.”
Her description closely expresses my feelings this past week, and I find it very reassuring.
Words and Meditations 