Usually if someone asks me how my flight was, I have something to say. Weather
delayed things, some plane troubles delayed things, whatever. But this time I actually got to my destination on time. Nothing unusual happened, which is maybe why I was more attuned to the things that were usual.
I assume because I don't assign myself a seat when I buy my plane tickets, I am always in the last group to board the plane, which gives me no incentive to change now. Who wants to board first? I like boarding last. I can take more time to get my suitcase in the overhead compartment without people waiting behind me. I don't have to deal with people crawling over me to get in their seats. And nobody wants to sit on that plane any longer than they have to, right? I think that's evident when everyone immediately stands as soon as the plane arrives. If I was in first class, I would still board last. I don't care how comfortable those seats are.
Soon after I am the last to board, the flight attendants begin their safety instructions. I always feel bad at this point. No one is paying attention to them, but I feel like I should pay attention just to be polite, even though I've heard it plenty of times. It doesn't take a genius to figure out how to fasten the seat belt after all. But then they start talking about how slides will inflight on the sides of the plane in case we need to evacuate. Pull on the straps to tighten your air masks. You can use your seat as a flotation device. Can we all just stop for a moment to imagine the situation we'd be in if we actually needed to know this? Instead everyone's playing Fruit Ninja and reading those flight magazines. What if something happened and we actually went down? I wouldn't want to be the panicking fool who, while the plane is diving into the ocean, yells, "Did they say we have a flotation device? Where?!" Wouldn't it be frustrating to be a flight attendant in a situation like that? You'd want to save your own life, but you wouldn't want all these people who seemed to know everything an hour ago while you were giving instruction to suffocate because they can't figure out how to tighten their air masks. Why don't you consult your ipad for the answer now, pal?
But of course, nothing like that happened. We landed safely and our pilot says, "I hope you enjoyed your flight." Does anyone ever enjoy a flight? I mean, maybe the first time you fly it can be kind of exciting. But I still don't hear anyone complaining, "Awww, we're down already? Let's do it again!" I think a more realistic phrase to say would be, "I hope you tolerated your flight today. I hope you didn't throw up or lock yourself in the bathroom. I hope your neighbors were friendly and the free orange juice met your standards. I hope you will tolerate us again in the future."
Not like I have much of a choice. To this day, every airline I've taken for national flights is exactly the same. There's not much space. The food is really expensive. Meh. I flew on Sun Country this time for a change (because it was the cheapest) and they had these cool ipad things with movies and games you could borrow. I thought they were free for a second, but of course they weren't. Dang it Sun Country, you almost beat the competition. Honestly, I don't think it would be that hard to one-up your competition in this field. You offer real free food, I'm sold. Hand out FREE cool ipad things, I'm there. I probably wouldn't pay extra for a ticket, but that's just me. I would definitely pick you over whoever else if two flights were the same price though.
In the end, I made it back in Minnesota! It sure is nice to have people agree with me that it's hot and bright outside. I guess by people I mean my sister Cindy. These last two days I have been constantly amused that what she says out-loud coincides with what I'm thinking most of the time. We both are equally excited about her giant colorful caterpillar named Leonerd and her quacking duck named Howie. We go to Kohls and have the same sense of what's nice and what's ugly. Being with family makes me feel normal again. It's quite refreshing.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Friday, May 10, 2013
I Want to be a Superhero
No, seriously, I do. And don't lie. You do too.
This past Halloween I saw a lot of little boys dressed up as superheros (especially Captain America. Dang is he cool). And I'm jealous; seriously I am. I've always wanted to be a superhero, though sometimes I was convinced that this desire is the product of watching too many superhero movies, playing too many video games, and reading the 56 book series of Animorphs (actually its more like 66 with all the side stories). But even though those influences aren't as strong in my life as they used to be, I still really want to be a superhero. More now than when I was a kid. I have four reasons why.
1. Cool superpowers or technology
Wouldn't this fun? How cool would it be to fly, turn into animals, have super strength... talk about handy. Can't reach that nasty top shelf on top of the fridge? Fly on up there. Dropped your phone between your bed and the wall and can't fit your hand in between? Turn in a mouse and retrieve it. Need to move your furniture? Done. I imagine after a while, it would be very isolating to have some kind of power no one else had. People might be all impressed at first, but eventually jealously would set in, not to mention it would be very difficult to stay humble. I'm sure once people knew what you could do, they would ask for you assistance in everything too. Some would probably considered you a freak. That is providing you tell people what you can do. So hiding is an option, I guess, but that would be so isolating. Okay, so scratch the cool superpowers thing. I actually only have three reasons.
2. Life is so much more exciting as a superhero
The majority of my life so far has involved class, homework, work on a farm or other job, hanging out with friends, family, watching movies, reading, writing whatever. I feel like I have prided myself in proclaiming that I am never bored. Which is true; I never am bored on an earthly level. I always find a book to read or a nap to take. But occasionally an overwhelming sense of boredom will hit me. My thoughts will be something like, "God, I do not care about school. I do not care about getting a job. That pattern of life is so lame. I want to travel around the world! I want to go save lives! I want to DO stuff! Settle down? Bah!" Then again, what kind of security is that? I think of Spiderman sneaking out at night to fight crime. I think that would be cool twice. The first time because of the rush you get. The second time because of the feeling of accomplishment. But after the third time, exhaustion would kick in and so would bitterness. Like the quote from The Incredibles, "I just cleaned up this mess. Can you keep it clean for ten minutes?" Yeah, so just kidding. I like sleep way too much. Scratch point number two.
3. Secret Identity
Oh yeah, talk about the wild side of life. Can you imagine? Living a double life as a secret agent? No one knowing your true self? Knowing that if anyone found out who you were (especially those closest to you), they would be in danger? Uh, talk about miserable. I'm not even going to try to make that sound appealing. I think I have enough stress in my life already, thank you. And let's be real, I would still have to live a normal life on top of my midnight rescues. I would just have to pretend I was getting sleep at night. Talk about terrible.
4. Self-sacrifice
So as much as it would utterly suck to be a superhero, I would love to be LIKE a superhero. Because they will give up anything. Their jobs, their time to themselves and family, their lives. The limits to their sacrifice seem extended beyond anything I would be asked to do. And if I was asked to give up my job or my house or whatever... shoot, could I do it? I like to think I would, I like to think everyone on this planet would, but the truth is, I don't know if we're ready for that yet. How often do we claim things for ourselves, calling for "shotgun" and grabbing the first piece of cake instead of offering those things first? How often do we know our presence is desired but because no one asked, we conveniently don't enter the room? How well do we know just how to form our words to get what we want without anyone knowing that we're being manipulative (not even ourselves sometimes)?
We all have limits as human beings, but what if each of us sacrificed just one more little thing in our day for the sake of someone else? An extra five minutes at meal time to spend with our family? Doing a chore that is normally not your job to do? A friendly hello to someone new at church, or someone you see everyday but have never spoken to?
Because the truth is, we're all already superheroes. We just have to choose that path. And the best thing about it are that we can choose how we serve. If we could fly, that would be the service people would ask from you, forgetting everything else about you that makes you you. In our normal lives, we can develop any skills we want and offer our services in anyway we want. And for the most part, we can serve within the comfort of our own lives and our own identity! Talk about convenient! So long as we serve. Where would this world be without it? Where could this world be with more?
If it helps, there is nothing wrong with wearing a mask or a weird hat as you do what you do. Yes, I am wearing a weird hat right as I write this. Actually, it's not a hat, but it could be.
This past Halloween I saw a lot of little boys dressed up as superheros (especially Captain America. Dang is he cool). And I'm jealous; seriously I am. I've always wanted to be a superhero, though sometimes I was convinced that this desire is the product of watching too many superhero movies, playing too many video games, and reading the 56 book series of Animorphs (actually its more like 66 with all the side stories). But even though those influences aren't as strong in my life as they used to be, I still really want to be a superhero. More now than when I was a kid. I have four reasons why.
1. Cool superpowers or technology
Wouldn't this fun? How cool would it be to fly, turn into animals, have super strength... talk about handy. Can't reach that nasty top shelf on top of the fridge? Fly on up there. Dropped your phone between your bed and the wall and can't fit your hand in between? Turn in a mouse and retrieve it. Need to move your furniture? Done. I imagine after a while, it would be very isolating to have some kind of power no one else had. People might be all impressed at first, but eventually jealously would set in, not to mention it would be very difficult to stay humble. I'm sure once people knew what you could do, they would ask for you assistance in everything too. Some would probably considered you a freak. That is providing you tell people what you can do. So hiding is an option, I guess, but that would be so isolating. Okay, so scratch the cool superpowers thing. I actually only have three reasons.
2. Life is so much more exciting as a superhero
The majority of my life so far has involved class, homework, work on a farm or other job, hanging out with friends, family, watching movies, reading, writing whatever. I feel like I have prided myself in proclaiming that I am never bored. Which is true; I never am bored on an earthly level. I always find a book to read or a nap to take. But occasionally an overwhelming sense of boredom will hit me. My thoughts will be something like, "God, I do not care about school. I do not care about getting a job. That pattern of life is so lame. I want to travel around the world! I want to go save lives! I want to DO stuff! Settle down? Bah!" Then again, what kind of security is that? I think of Spiderman sneaking out at night to fight crime. I think that would be cool twice. The first time because of the rush you get. The second time because of the feeling of accomplishment. But after the third time, exhaustion would kick in and so would bitterness. Like the quote from The Incredibles, "I just cleaned up this mess. Can you keep it clean for ten minutes?" Yeah, so just kidding. I like sleep way too much. Scratch point number two.
3. Secret Identity
Oh yeah, talk about the wild side of life. Can you imagine? Living a double life as a secret agent? No one knowing your true self? Knowing that if anyone found out who you were (especially those closest to you), they would be in danger? Uh, talk about miserable. I'm not even going to try to make that sound appealing. I think I have enough stress in my life already, thank you. And let's be real, I would still have to live a normal life on top of my midnight rescues. I would just have to pretend I was getting sleep at night. Talk about terrible.
4. Self-sacrifice
So as much as it would utterly suck to be a superhero, I would love to be LIKE a superhero. Because they will give up anything. Their jobs, their time to themselves and family, their lives. The limits to their sacrifice seem extended beyond anything I would be asked to do. And if I was asked to give up my job or my house or whatever... shoot, could I do it? I like to think I would, I like to think everyone on this planet would, but the truth is, I don't know if we're ready for that yet. How often do we claim things for ourselves, calling for "shotgun" and grabbing the first piece of cake instead of offering those things first? How often do we know our presence is desired but because no one asked, we conveniently don't enter the room? How well do we know just how to form our words to get what we want without anyone knowing that we're being manipulative (not even ourselves sometimes)?
We all have limits as human beings, but what if each of us sacrificed just one more little thing in our day for the sake of someone else? An extra five minutes at meal time to spend with our family? Doing a chore that is normally not your job to do? A friendly hello to someone new at church, or someone you see everyday but have never spoken to?
Because the truth is, we're all already superheroes. We just have to choose that path. And the best thing about it are that we can choose how we serve. If we could fly, that would be the service people would ask from you, forgetting everything else about you that makes you you. In our normal lives, we can develop any skills we want and offer our services in anyway we want. And for the most part, we can serve within the comfort of our own lives and our own identity! Talk about convenient! So long as we serve. Where would this world be without it? Where could this world be with more?
If it helps, there is nothing wrong with wearing a mask or a weird hat as you do what you do. Yes, I am wearing a weird hat right as I write this. Actually, it's not a hat, but it could be.
God the Navigator
The material of this post probably isn't a new idea. Actually I know it isn't. After I developed my idea I googled, "God is like a GPS" and found lots of pages. But I like to think my explanation is better. :)
Life is like driving, and God is like the GPS. Most of the time, we know the path we need to go, to work, school, church... we remember the path. But it wasn't always this way. Somebody had to show us the first time we went to these places. And no matter how we live our life, there will always come days where we need to find a place we've never been to before.
If we've kept the GPS on our dashboard as we were learning to drive, we'll have no problem using it when these situations arise. If we have never used the GPS system up to this point, we might not know what to do with it at first. We might get impatient as it acquires satellites or lose trust in it all together as it directs us into a lake.
Tossing the GPS to the backseat, we believe we can find our own way or perhaps we reach for that atlas from 1997 back there somewhere. It's shoved so deeply into the driver's back seat pocket that chewed pencils, halves of combs, and a broken umbrella erupt from the pocket as we tug hard for this saving grace. So relived having found something actually reliable, we tear off the old sucker stuck to the back of it and begin peeling each individual page free of the mysterious sticky substance residing in between each page. All while still driving. Who has time to stop when we're already late? Besides, there's a chance we're already going in the right direction.
It might not be until our gas light comes on that we even realize how unreliable this old atlas is. We've lost track of how long we've been driving around lost in a false sense of security, convinced everything would work itself out all right. It might only be then that we finally stop, reach for the GPS again, and force ourselves to be patient enough for it to load the maps. Once the GPS points the way, the destination may seem far from reach, especially with the little gas and time we have. We may even despair and think we might as well have driven into that lake.
But the GPS can lead us anywhere, even a gas station. Even if we take a wrong turn, the GPS will always recalculate a new path for us. How we get to our destination is up to us, but God will always be there to navigate for us when we are lost.
I realize this metaphor is not without its flaws. Sometimes the GPS never acquires satellites or tells us to go in a direction that is clearly a lake. God doesn't lead us to our doom. But maybe there is a lesson here too. Maybe we're not supposed to go where we're driving right now. Maybe we're not ready for it yet. God could be taking care of us in a way we don't fully understand. But when the time is right, He will lead us, just as a GPS, so long as we don't toss Him in the backseat.
Life is like driving, and God is like the GPS. Most of the time, we know the path we need to go, to work, school, church... we remember the path. But it wasn't always this way. Somebody had to show us the first time we went to these places. And no matter how we live our life, there will always come days where we need to find a place we've never been to before.
If we've kept the GPS on our dashboard as we were learning to drive, we'll have no problem using it when these situations arise. If we have never used the GPS system up to this point, we might not know what to do with it at first. We might get impatient as it acquires satellites or lose trust in it all together as it directs us into a lake.
Tossing the GPS to the backseat, we believe we can find our own way or perhaps we reach for that atlas from 1997 back there somewhere. It's shoved so deeply into the driver's back seat pocket that chewed pencils, halves of combs, and a broken umbrella erupt from the pocket as we tug hard for this saving grace. So relived having found something actually reliable, we tear off the old sucker stuck to the back of it and begin peeling each individual page free of the mysterious sticky substance residing in between each page. All while still driving. Who has time to stop when we're already late? Besides, there's a chance we're already going in the right direction.
It might not be until our gas light comes on that we even realize how unreliable this old atlas is. We've lost track of how long we've been driving around lost in a false sense of security, convinced everything would work itself out all right. It might only be then that we finally stop, reach for the GPS again, and force ourselves to be patient enough for it to load the maps. Once the GPS points the way, the destination may seem far from reach, especially with the little gas and time we have. We may even despair and think we might as well have driven into that lake.
But the GPS can lead us anywhere, even a gas station. Even if we take a wrong turn, the GPS will always recalculate a new path for us. How we get to our destination is up to us, but God will always be there to navigate for us when we are lost.
I realize this metaphor is not without its flaws. Sometimes the GPS never acquires satellites or tells us to go in a direction that is clearly a lake. God doesn't lead us to our doom. But maybe there is a lesson here too. Maybe we're not supposed to go where we're driving right now. Maybe we're not ready for it yet. God could be taking care of us in a way we don't fully understand. But when the time is right, He will lead us, just as a GPS, so long as we don't toss Him in the backseat.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Humility Prayer Kicks My Butt
Humility Prayer Kicks My Butt
(Leader says this) ............................(Everyone replies with this)
From the desire of being esteemed.........Deliver Me Jesus
From the desire of being loved.............Deliver me Jesus
From the desire of being extolled ..........Deliver me Jesus
From the desire of being honored..............Deliver me Jesus
From the desire of being praised......... Deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being preferred.........Deliver me Jesus
From the desire of being consulted...........Deliver me Jesus
From the desire of being approved.............Deliver me Jesus
From the fear of being humiliated.........Deliver me Jesus
From the fear of being despised............Deliver me Jesus
From the fear of suffering rebukes..............Deliver me Jesus
From the fear of being calumniated...........Deliver me Jesus
From the fear of being forgotten................ Deliver me Jesus
From the fear of being ridiculed..............Deliver me Jesus
From the fear of being wronged............Deliver me Jesus
From the fear of being suspected...........Deliver me Jesus
That others may be loved more than I..........Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it
That others may be esteemed more than I ................Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it
That in the opinion of the world others may increase and I may decrease..............Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it
That others may be chosen and I set aside............Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it
That others may be praised and I unnoticed............Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may became as holy as I should.......................Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
When I think about my desires, I think about having good relationships with my family and friends and having a job that I love. "That others may increase and I may decrease." Decrease. Who hopes for that? "That others may be praised and I unnoticed" is definitely not on my top desires list. When my team prays this prayer together, I need to force myself to go through with it because I understand the goodness of this prayer. If this prayer was easy, that would mean I was already humble. Since it's difficult, I know I have a long way to go on that path. Whenever I say, "Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it," I need to remind myself why I really want to desire that. It's really hard to imagine myself being happy going unnoticed while others are praised. To go unnoticed looks weak or like I'm giving up. But that's exactly why it is such a good thing to desire. It looks lame to go unnoticed. But that's okay. We can't see God if we only see ourselves. By praying for humility, we pray for a deeper ability to know God.
Take this prayer into your prayer life. I know it has helped me.
Friday, November 9, 2012
In the Silly String Fight
In
the Silly String Fight
I’ve
been finding it very difficult to blog lately.
The move to Yakima, WA has been a good one, though it is taking me
longer to adjust than I originally thought it would. Overall, I am enjoying Yakima more than
Helena, mostly because I feel like I have something to do here. I enjoyed training, but after a few weeks I knew
that I was going to learn most of my ministry skills doing ministry rather than
just talking about it.
I
thoroughly enjoyed the first retreats and youth groups that my team led. Working with my team and youth ministers in
the area who all have to same passion for evangelization has been a tremendous
blessing. I was happy with the area and
the community and really felt that I was going to enjoy every minute of working
with the youth. It has been a month
since then, which means I will be able to give a more realistic account of how
I feel about what I do.
I
recently had a conversation with one of the many ex-Reach members that live in
the Yakima area about life on a Reach team.
Each new member comes in with some expectation of what team life is
going to be like through what they have seen at Reach retreats (or in my case,
NET retreats) they attended in middle/high school. They might know people who were on teams previous
years and heard accounts of what their life was like on team. But the truth is, every person, every living
situation, every group of kids we encounter, is so different each year, that
everybody’s preconceived expectations are wrong. What this conversation exposed to me was that
maybe 5% of our time is spent actually with the youth. The other 95% is spent planning, praying, and
keeping sane. Sanity is sometimes hard
to find amidst singing songs about dead moose and farting crickets. Middle school kids are weird.
And I think that’s not
what I expected… the weirdness. We play
games, we sing songs, and we have balloon fights. Last Friday my team attended a middle school
lock-in where we played Rock Band, Cops and Robbers, Sardines, and whatever came
to mind. Sometimes I just got lost in it
all. Aren’t I here to spread the
Gospel? Because that’s what my training
was mostly about.
I understand it- the
need for insanity. There’s really no
point in asking any middle schooler a serious “God” question if you haven’t had
a pillow fight with them first. It
surprises me how quickly a youth group can go from upbeat and exciting with
some game to utter restlessness as soon as they feel the vibe of something
religious beginning to start. And when
the only words you can get out of a discussion are questions about when we’re
going to play another game, you know that any point you are trying to make is
lost, no matter how awesome it is.
It’s
hard. Sometimes I feel like I’m some
kind of babysitting service. A place
parents can drop off their kids one evening a week to get them out of the
house. I know that I am doing good work
and that I’m working hard to improve the skills I need. I know that the silly time we have with kids
is valuable for them to feel more comfortable and connected with us and each
other. But still I wonder if I am doing
things right, if I could be doing more, or if I am missing some of the little
joys of ministry that would assure me I wasn’t wasting my time.
The
other day I drove by this man on the sidewalk waving a sign to point the
direction and advertise for a business.
I always feel bad for those people.
That has to be a terrible job.
Standing there all day as cars constantly drive by you, never knowing if
anyone is actually reading the sign or turning to the business because of your
work. Most of the time, those people
look miserable to me, which is probably why I think this would be a terrible
job. But not this guy. He had huge headphones on, was waving to
individual cars, and smiling as he jammed and danced to whatever song he was
listening to. As I waited at a red
light, I couldn’t help but wave and smile back.
I didn’t follow the direction of his sign, but I still remember him and
how much joy he seemed to have with his job.
I
drove by him again six hours later, and he was still just as excited as he was
earlier. Again, I didn’t follow his
sign, but I had a strong desire to shake his hand. He took that job that seemed so pointless to
me and made it something beyond the mundane.
It probably crossed his mind that his work might not be the best. I doubt he dreamed of being a sign holder
when he grew up. But he definitely made
the most of the situation.
Now
I know my job is not worthless. I like
to think that it has more benefit than the job of sign holding. This first month of ministry has been a lot
of silliness, a lot of what looks to be a waste of time. But now that the initial confrontation is
over, I see how valuable that time was. With
a solid relationship formed, talking about God is a lot less lame, and actually
exciting, especially if those fun, silly activities still continue. I can see the benefits of those times now in
my small groups during our weekly youth nights.
At first, I could never get any of them to tell me more about themselves than
how old they were, how many siblings they had, and what their favorite class
was. This week one girl shared with me
her troubles with one of her friends. It’s
moments like that when I’m thankful that we were able to build up to that level
of trust just by seeing each other once a week for month. Moments like that also remind me to not take
myself too seriously. The mind of a middle schooler is not serious most of the time. In order to meet them on their level, we too need to not be so serious. Sometimes
the best place for them to find God is in a silly string fight.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
New Community
Carroll College has been a sort refuge for me since I arrived in Helena. It’s small, quiet, and has the feel of energy I was used to while I was a student at Morris. The Reach house I'm staying at is not even a block away, so the campus is where I like to be while I'm on the phone or just need some time to myself. Today I went to Mass at 9:30pm at the Carroll College campus.
I sat in the back because I was slightly late, having gotten a little lost trying to find the place. When I entered the chapel for Mass, I was slightly off balance. Here I was at a college campus for Mass, just like I had been at the Newman Center every Thursday for the last three years while I was a student at UM Morris.
The opening song began, and I was instantly comforted with familiarity. “Here I am to Worship.” Yep, memorized that song at Newman. Only, it wasn’t the same version I’ve song over and over again. It was in a different key, sung at a slower tempo, and some of the notes were held longer. Not a big deal, but I was annoyed since I wasn’t able to enjoy the song as much. Mass preceded as normal, though it was clear that it was an unnaturally late hour to be having Mass… kind of like at Newman. The priest was cracking jokes during his homily which was obviously geared toward college students… just like at Newman. And hugs were exchanged rather than handshakes at the sign of peace… very Newman, yes.
But gosh darn it… it was not Newman. I knew a few of the Reach people there, as much as you can really know anyone in 10 days but otherwise recognized no one. The songs were all sung weirdly. Everyone was wearing purple instead of maroon. And it just wasn’t as personable, which is likely to be the case when there are 200 people in a chapel rather than 20.
I understood that it was a different way of doing things. Obviously the minute details of how the Mass was carried out were going to be different just as they’re different in each parish. What I didn’t understand was why these details were bothering me so much.
At this point I’m assuming you’ve read my first blog. All you really need to know was that I was flooded with God’s grace before I flew to Montana. I had very little worry about moving from home or about the work I would soon begin training for.
Up to this point in the Mass since I arrived in Helena, I’d been wondering why I’m here. It's like the grace I received to accept the big move disappeared as soon as I landed in the city. I felt like I wasn’t really connecting with the other Reach members. I felt like I couldn’t express my true self because so many people on the teams already had a somewhat boisterous personality. The spiritually of people seemed far beyond anything I had experienced, and I was especially intimidated by those 18-year-olds straight out of high school whose words of prayer are as elegant as the words in the Bible.
I was struggling not to become this quiet person in the corner with nothing to offer. I’ve fought that battle before, and I saw no need why I should have to fight it again. But for some reason, here the challenge to speak up was in my face once more.
I felt like I really became myself when I found the Newman Center in college. Nothing gave me more joy than to see people walk in those doors for an event or just to study. That familiarity was real, and I found myself longing for it as I sat in that chapel on Carroll College, once again frustrated in the middle of Mass that I’d sung a wrong note that would have been correct if I was back home.
Today in one of my Reach training sessions, we discussed different idols that distract us from Jesus. We quickly glossed over the obvious idols like Facebook, TV, and things we do for fun and instead focused on the idols that are less obvious. Working too hard, even if that work is something that helps the church. Craving emotional security in faith. I so highly valued the community that I’d surrounded myself in that I couldn’t handle the shock of being outside that community even though the community that I'm in now is just as beautiful. How ridiculous is that?
Today I came to terms with something I didn’t realize I needed to come to terms with. I wasn’t at the Newman Center anymore, and that was a good thing. Not that the fellowship I had there was bad, it was beautiful, but it was without a doubt distracting me from the real beauties of the Mass. I desired fellowship more than I desired Jesus Christ, and that, I believe, is the definition of an idol. And a dang well hidden one at that. I always saw idols as those things that draw your attention from Jesus like busyness of life. I never even imagined that it could be the very thing that drew me to Jesus in the first place – friendship and acceptance.
I think it would be really easy for me right now to proclaim some divine revelation and to say that now all is well in my once troubled heart. But it’s not. I can guarantee you that I will struggle tomorrow with being myself. It’s just going to be my reality for a bit. But now that I know why I was struggling with that, I can begin to heal and work my way into a new community, one just as beautiful, but more importantly, one that I can grow to appreciate under the authority of Jesus Christ. Rather than letting whatever community I’m in to consume me as the end-all goal in my pursuit for holiness, I can see it for as it is – simply another of the many gifts given by Jesus Himself.
I sat in the back because I was slightly late, having gotten a little lost trying to find the place. When I entered the chapel for Mass, I was slightly off balance. Here I was at a college campus for Mass, just like I had been at the Newman Center every Thursday for the last three years while I was a student at UM Morris.
The opening song began, and I was instantly comforted with familiarity. “Here I am to Worship.” Yep, memorized that song at Newman. Only, it wasn’t the same version I’ve song over and over again. It was in a different key, sung at a slower tempo, and some of the notes were held longer. Not a big deal, but I was annoyed since I wasn’t able to enjoy the song as much. Mass preceded as normal, though it was clear that it was an unnaturally late hour to be having Mass… kind of like at Newman. The priest was cracking jokes during his homily which was obviously geared toward college students… just like at Newman. And hugs were exchanged rather than handshakes at the sign of peace… very Newman, yes.
But gosh darn it… it was not Newman. I knew a few of the Reach people there, as much as you can really know anyone in 10 days but otherwise recognized no one. The songs were all sung weirdly. Everyone was wearing purple instead of maroon. And it just wasn’t as personable, which is likely to be the case when there are 200 people in a chapel rather than 20.
I understood that it was a different way of doing things. Obviously the minute details of how the Mass was carried out were going to be different just as they’re different in each parish. What I didn’t understand was why these details were bothering me so much.
At this point I’m assuming you’ve read my first blog. All you really need to know was that I was flooded with God’s grace before I flew to Montana. I had very little worry about moving from home or about the work I would soon begin training for.
Up to this point in the Mass since I arrived in Helena, I’d been wondering why I’m here. It's like the grace I received to accept the big move disappeared as soon as I landed in the city. I felt like I wasn’t really connecting with the other Reach members. I felt like I couldn’t express my true self because so many people on the teams already had a somewhat boisterous personality. The spiritually of people seemed far beyond anything I had experienced, and I was especially intimidated by those 18-year-olds straight out of high school whose words of prayer are as elegant as the words in the Bible.
I was struggling not to become this quiet person in the corner with nothing to offer. I’ve fought that battle before, and I saw no need why I should have to fight it again. But for some reason, here the challenge to speak up was in my face once more.
I felt like I really became myself when I found the Newman Center in college. Nothing gave me more joy than to see people walk in those doors for an event or just to study. That familiarity was real, and I found myself longing for it as I sat in that chapel on Carroll College, once again frustrated in the middle of Mass that I’d sung a wrong note that would have been correct if I was back home.
Today in one of my Reach training sessions, we discussed different idols that distract us from Jesus. We quickly glossed over the obvious idols like Facebook, TV, and things we do for fun and instead focused on the idols that are less obvious. Working too hard, even if that work is something that helps the church. Craving emotional security in faith. I so highly valued the community that I’d surrounded myself in that I couldn’t handle the shock of being outside that community even though the community that I'm in now is just as beautiful. How ridiculous is that?
Today I came to terms with something I didn’t realize I needed to come to terms with. I wasn’t at the Newman Center anymore, and that was a good thing. Not that the fellowship I had there was bad, it was beautiful, but it was without a doubt distracting me from the real beauties of the Mass. I desired fellowship more than I desired Jesus Christ, and that, I believe, is the definition of an idol. And a dang well hidden one at that. I always saw idols as those things that draw your attention from Jesus like busyness of life. I never even imagined that it could be the very thing that drew me to Jesus in the first place – friendship and acceptance.
I think it would be really easy for me right now to proclaim some divine revelation and to say that now all is well in my once troubled heart. But it’s not. I can guarantee you that I will struggle tomorrow with being myself. It’s just going to be my reality for a bit. But now that I know why I was struggling with that, I can begin to heal and work my way into a new community, one just as beautiful, but more importantly, one that I can grow to appreciate under the authority of Jesus Christ. Rather than letting whatever community I’m in to consume me as the end-all goal in my pursuit for holiness, I can see it for as it is – simply another of the many gifts given by Jesus Himself.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
What Concerns Me
I always wanted to start a blog, but I never felt like I had a reason to. I still don't feel that I don't, probably because as a recent graduate in English with an emphasis in writing, I have a terrible fear of being ignored. What's the point of writing something if no one will read it? Well, I have learned there are all sorts of reasons since writing is my way of thinking and my way of keeping track of myself. I've learned that there's no purpose in writing to please others, since I don't know what other people are looking for. If I write to please others, I will please no one. If I write to please myself, I'm always surprised at the number of positive responses.
So here goes blog number one!
I think the reason I feel that I still have no reason to write a blog is because I don't feel like what I'm doing in this stage of my life is a big deal. To be clear, in two days I will be flying to Montana to begin training with Reach Youth Ministry, a Catholic organization that encourages high schoolers and middles schoolers in their faith through retreats and other events. I've been asked all sorts of questions such as where I'll actually be living and what I'll actually be doing there. I consider this information minor detail, which is probably part of the reason why people have called my adventure to Montana (or Washington, or wherever) "brave."
Wow. I don't think I've ever been called "brave" before. The first few times I was called that, I understood where people were coming from. I'm leaving town for awhile not knowing much. That could be seen as scary. But to this day I have yet to be concerned about much of anything dealing with Reach. I know I'm going to miss my family and friends, but I'll be back in Christmas, so you know... I'll be fine. I know I'm going to meet a lot of awesome people, so really, I'm a lot more excited than concerned. What I'm most concerned about at this point is navigating the airport, and quite honestly, I hold that concern only because I feel that I should be concerned about something.
For a few days, after I had heard the word "brave" one too many times, I started to be concerned about my whole adventure with Reach. Should I be more concerned than I am? Am I missing something?
I recently spoke with my sister on this matter. I was concerned about whether or not I was concerned enough about the next step in my life. What she had to say instantly set me comfortably back into little-concern mode, which I thoroughly enjoy.
Basically she explained to me that God gives us the grace to do the things he asks of us. In other words, if it is truly God's will for me to be with Reach, He's not going to make my life miserable or make me concerned about certain matters, trivial or significant. That's Satan's doing. Yes, there's going to be challenges, some I expect and some that I don't, but God is always going to bring me through them, even if I can't see His path for me at the time. I just have to trust in Him and not make up things with which to concern myself.
Since God seems to have blessed me with the grace for living far from home and working with the youth, let me tell you what I do NOT currently have the grace for.
Those things people call "real jobs."
I've been thanked a lot for my willingness to work with Reach, and I always feel a little weird saying "you're welcome" to those words. I'm postponing the inevitable of making my own money and paying off my college loans because yes, I do want to help the youth and spread the Word, but there is a part of my that thinks, "Yes! I don't have to deal with the inevitable for another year!"
To those who have called me "brave," thank you. I will do my best with Reach. Know that you are surely doing things in your life that I currently don't have the grace for. Thank you for your support, prayers, and all those things you do to further God's kingdom, big or small.
So here goes blog number one!
I think the reason I feel that I still have no reason to write a blog is because I don't feel like what I'm doing in this stage of my life is a big deal. To be clear, in two days I will be flying to Montana to begin training with Reach Youth Ministry, a Catholic organization that encourages high schoolers and middles schoolers in their faith through retreats and other events. I've been asked all sorts of questions such as where I'll actually be living and what I'll actually be doing there. I consider this information minor detail, which is probably part of the reason why people have called my adventure to Montana (or Washington, or wherever) "brave."
Wow. I don't think I've ever been called "brave" before. The first few times I was called that, I understood where people were coming from. I'm leaving town for awhile not knowing much. That could be seen as scary. But to this day I have yet to be concerned about much of anything dealing with Reach. I know I'm going to miss my family and friends, but I'll be back in Christmas, so you know... I'll be fine. I know I'm going to meet a lot of awesome people, so really, I'm a lot more excited than concerned. What I'm most concerned about at this point is navigating the airport, and quite honestly, I hold that concern only because I feel that I should be concerned about something.
For a few days, after I had heard the word "brave" one too many times, I started to be concerned about my whole adventure with Reach. Should I be more concerned than I am? Am I missing something?
I recently spoke with my sister on this matter. I was concerned about whether or not I was concerned enough about the next step in my life. What she had to say instantly set me comfortably back into little-concern mode, which I thoroughly enjoy.
Basically she explained to me that God gives us the grace to do the things he asks of us. In other words, if it is truly God's will for me to be with Reach, He's not going to make my life miserable or make me concerned about certain matters, trivial or significant. That's Satan's doing. Yes, there's going to be challenges, some I expect and some that I don't, but God is always going to bring me through them, even if I can't see His path for me at the time. I just have to trust in Him and not make up things with which to concern myself.
Since God seems to have blessed me with the grace for living far from home and working with the youth, let me tell you what I do NOT currently have the grace for.
Those things people call "real jobs."
I've been thanked a lot for my willingness to work with Reach, and I always feel a little weird saying "you're welcome" to those words. I'm postponing the inevitable of making my own money and paying off my college loans because yes, I do want to help the youth and spread the Word, but there is a part of my that thinks, "Yes! I don't have to deal with the inevitable for another year!"
To those who have called me "brave," thank you. I will do my best with Reach. Know that you are surely doing things in your life that I currently don't have the grace for. Thank you for your support, prayers, and all those things you do to further God's kingdom, big or small.
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