Legacy - Day 25

I love Christmas at my grandparents' home. Sitting by the fire drinking coffee while we open gifts, with a dog curled up at my feet or on my lap, it's a beautiful and cozy part of Christmas tradition. Over the course of my childhood, there have been any numbers of faces at Christmas morning, not all of them family. Any number of neighbors and friends and acquaintances have joined us, really anyone my grandparents heard needed someone to spend Christmas with was welcome. There have been moments, growing up, that I resented it. I like our family, and outsiders felt like intruders. But the older I get, the more I cherish the unrelated faces at Christmas, at Easter, at Thanksgiving, at Sunday dinners. Without saying much outright, my grandparents have lived the Gospel for their children, and now us grandkids, by making it clear that any and all are welcome in the family of God. I see it in the lives of my parents and aunts and uncles - my own parents always taught us that family was as much about who you chose to love as who was related by blood. 

People are drawn to my grandparents' home because of the peace found there. Grama and Grandpa's home is a place where there are usually cookies and always a listening ear along with plenty of wisdom. They don't just talk about loving and serving, but exist in it - welcoming family and strangers equally, no matter how many times they've been hurt. 

My grandparents live the meaning of Christmas, of peace - welcoming the stranger, embracing them as they would the Christ child. This is their legacy, more than anything, and I cannot be more thankful. 

As I finish this project, I wanna say thank you, for sticking with me. Whether you read every day or just this one, thank you for participating in our journey. Nothing about this was what I expected, and I'm really glad God brought me to it.

Until the New Year - grace and peace to you all, and Merry Christmas.

Lessons - Day 22

I've been trying to figure out why God put me on this journey at this point in my life. I've mentioned in previous posts how peace has not really been one of the guiding themes of my life recently. I have struggled this whole project to see why it is God brought me here.

This afternoon I was chatting with my mom. Whining, really. I was just feeling a little down. Mom apologized, said she felt like being home had caused me a lot of tension and distress. I was surprised. I hadn't felt that way at all! She said she hadn't been feeling much peace these last weeks, and we started talking through some of those reasons. I reflected a bit and was surprised to see how unsettled I should be feeling. There is a lot of uncertainty in my life at this moment, lots of things that in years past would have sent me into an emotional downward spiral. But I'm actually ok. Not over the moon, not bouncing off the walls - I'm ok. I'm calm.

I think God put me on this path because he knew what these weeks would hold. Lots of stress and uncertainty, lots of tension and busyness, all the things that make me unbalanced. He knew that I needed to search for lessons about peace every day, because my daily life would not hold a whole lot of peace easily found.

God knew I needed peace in these days, and that I wouldn't look for it without this project. So thank you Josh, for the invitation, and thank you to the other contributors, for being sources of peace and blessings in my life even though I haven't met most of you.

Today's lesson: God knows what I need, especially when I don't.

25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Cookies - Day 21

I am a people pleaser. I want people around me to be happy and to get along with each other. I hate conflict, I hate tension, I hate raised voices, and I hate irritated silences.

I like keeping the peace.

Today my mom and sister and I baked Christmas cookies. It's just one of those things that never goes off quite as magically as it does in Mom's Hallmark movies. My family does a lot of things well, but for some reason the mixture of my need for control, my sister's excessively apologetic nature, Mom's holiday stress, and our small kitchen just really does not create a fun baking atmosphere. We gave it our best shot, we really did. At any one time, two out of the three of us were trying really hard to have a great attitude and have fun, but inevitably something would go wrong - too many nuts in the wedding cookies, a piece of advice not well received, or making way too much icing - and tension would ensue.

I hit my breaking point at about 6:30. It felt like I'd been trying to hold it together all day, and then realized I'd made a mistake and it all fell apart. I stood there trying not to cry while I attempted to force terrible icing into a piping bag. I explained to Mom that I felt like I'd been trying to make everyone happy all day and I was failing miserably. She was of course wonderful, and thanked me for  all the helpful things I had done, but I didn't really feel better. Even now, I have a headache from holding the tears back for so long.

But not until I stopped to write this did I realize, I really can't keep the peace at all.

My small human efforts will fall short. As much as I want everyone to be happy and for everyone to get along beautifully, it is not in my control. I will put too many nuts in the cookies. Bit will apologize one too many times and I will snap at her (even though I have the exact same tendency). I will try and try and try to have it all together, and it will still fall apart.

Because it really isn't up to me. It's in his control.

God has a plan for the great days and the terrible ones, and the ones like today too. He is working our world toward a greater peace. One that doesn't rely on me making everyone happy or remembering not to make more icing.

Thank God for that.


25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

A Prayer - Day 19

Heavenly Father,

In this season, we search for peace. We look for it amid the crowds and the noise, and it's so easy to get lost.

God, we ask that you would invade our noisy lives with peace that comes only from you.

We love you.

Amen.

Childish - Day 18

Today has been hard. I found myself running from one place to the next all day - good things, things I was happy to be doing, but a stressful day. The pre-Christmas tensions are on the rise in our house. Dad's job is stressful, Carter had exams, Bit overwhelmed by the school/sports/friends/holiday balancing act, Mom is working plus planning all things Christmas, I just finished semester and now I'm trying to finish my application for graduate school, and even Frodo is sick and lethargic.

In the middle of everything, I kept searching for a calm spot to rest. When I wanted to snap at family members or cry from stress, I found myself stopping to pray instead. Little things, nothing profound.

Father, give Mom some peace and assurance today.

Lord, comfort Daddy please.

Jesus, give my baby sister some clarity.

Spirit, guide Cy through his day.

God, please help Frodo get better.

Dear Lord, please help me keep it together. 

See, just little prayers. Childish ones, in the best way. It made a difference. I found some rest in him, and then joy in the day. I spent hours working on a gift for Carter, helped Mom shop and get ready for her show, and made my favorite soup for dinner.

Today I learned peace can be found when I remember to lean on God like I did as a child. With simple prayers and a trusting spirit, even hard days have some peace and joy because God is still God.

25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Happy Place - Day 16

This is my happy place.

As a general rule, I find my happy place to be associated with a person or group of people rather than a particular place - home is where the heart is and all that. But I am an introvert, and sometimes even my favorite people in the world tire me out. Then, if I can, I come here, this spot in the library. There are these seventies style chairs, super low to the ground and awkwardly wide, with horrible beige and blue patterned fabric, positioned next to some windows overlooking the mall (HU-speak for the long center drag of campus). There's an ottoman that's the perfect height for my laptop, so I tuck my legs underneath me and use it as a desk. There's always a power strip within reach, and a side table for my study snacks. I take breaks to wander through the shelves. My particular favorite section is a collection of animation books full of concept art for Pixar movies and Studio Ghibli films. My spot is on the second floor, so even during finals week when the library is comparatively full of students, I usually have most (if not all) of the level to myself. I get to observe campus, feel like I'm part of it, without having to actually talk to anyone. Today I came up here with my lunch and just watched youtube videos for a while, because I needed a break. (Adjusting back into campus life after six months of comparative solitude is kind of an introvert's worst case scenario.)

I'm at peace here.

God and I have had some of our best talks in these awful chairs. I've spent days combing through theology texts next to these windows. With my laptop and surrounded by books, I can do anything. 

25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Dance - Day 15

You can tell I'm back in college mode because I'm consistently posting late at night.

Tonight I got the chance to see the university's dance team perform. It was lots of fun, mostly because the performers were having a blast. One of the choreographers introduced a piece intended to illustrate some of the peace she had been seeking through the course of the semester, and while I watched the dancers, I was struck by something fairly obvious.

How gracious was God to give us each our own avenues for peace?

So many places to find it! In creation, in poetry, in good food, in friendships, in music, in writing, in photography, in a warm bed - and these are just the ways I find peace. I'm sure you could add unique things to this list. God, in his infinite wisdom, didn't provide just one door for through which the believer can encounter his peace.

Today, I am content. I am thankful for a God who loves me enough to grant me peace in the midst of insanity. I pray for you, fellow adventurers, that you find a measure of peace in something around you today.

25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Giving Up - Day 14

I touched on this briefly in my post "Come", but it's been weighing on my mind so heavily, it felt like it needed more attention.

I am a product of the internet generation. I don't remember a world before Facebook. I am a big fan of the internet - not because it makes me life easier (although it obviously does), but because I think it is an absolutely incredible avenue for human creativity and expression. Never before would it have been possible for me to support independent creators so easily, affordably, and efficiently. I love that I can partake in projects like 25 Days for Peace. I love that we can exchange ideas and opinions so easily and freely.

I hate how social media tinges our response to tragedy.

In light of the attacks on Paris, I was terrified. She will think me silly for feeling this way, but my cousin is studying abroad in Paris, and my terror was born exclusively from the thought of my childhood companion caught in the crossfire. It was for her I clicked to add the French flag over my profile photo, to say in a small way that I was there for her. Truthfully, it was more for myself. I wanted to do something, let my world know I was hurting for the ones who died, the ones who were injured, the ones who will never again feel completely safe the way they once did.

The next morning I woke up to a rage storm on my newsfeeds. People outraged that the attacks in Paris received so much press, when the tragedies in Beirut, Baghdad, and Japan were largely unheard of. People in a fury over the #PrayforParis tags. Countless times I saw the line “no white people died, so no one cares”, referring to the other tragedies.

Who told you I didn’t care?

What about my sympathy for Parisians and fear my for family member meant that my heart wasn’t also breaking for Syria, as it has been for months?

When did the answer to tragedy become anger?

I knew my responses were hypocritical. My reaction to people’s anger was more anger of my own. But I could not be reasoned with. God worked on my heart, convicting me of my rage, and while I was humbled, the feeling didn’t quite fade. I left church that morning and curled on my bed trying to pray, but unable to put words to my heart’s pain. Slowly the rage melted to heartbreak. I sobbed, utterly broken hearted for my world.

It was a day that "break my heart for what breaks yours" became too real. It isn't a prayer to be prayed lightly and I felt the weight of it.

Craig and I spent some time in prayer that afternoon, and I found myself at the point of hope in the middle of hopelessness. 

There is peace in giving up.

I can't fix the world. I can't stop the social media rage storm. I can't keep those blinded by hate from hurting the innocent. I can't feed them all. It will not happen. Our world won't get better. But someday, the King will return, and oh the comfort in that knowledge! This groaning of creation will finally stop, and healing can really begin. So much peace in knowing it isn't up to me.

None of this means we don't work for justice, peace, and mercy. Christ called us to care for the poor, the fatherless, and the hungry. But in that call, he made it about him and not about us. He will do the work of peace and justice through us, through those who dedicate their lives to serving in the third world, through those who provide a compassionate ear to a hurting friend, and through every little action in between.

But sometimes you just fall apart.

Every little thing you've tried to do to fix your world or your life just seems futile. You kind of hate humanity. You feel angry and sad and frightened and vengeful all at the same time. In those moments, you give up. You give up trying to fix it, you give up the illusions of control, you give up hoping for tangible change, and fall into the arms of the Creator. There is more peace there than we will ever find on this earth.

25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Church - Day 13

I've spent more than one post elaborating on the helpful wisdom of my mom - tonight I want to tell you a little story about me and my dad, and I hope it shows you how simple it can be to spread peace.

The last few days have been the weirdest. I won't go into all the reasons why - not because they aren't entertaining, but because they do very little to talk about peace - but suffice to say I woke up this morning tense and off-balance. I had already half decided I wasn't going to church. I felt guilty about that. Overwhelmingly guilty. I hate not going to church, but with the state I was in, it felt unbearable.

Instead, Dad surprised me with breakfast.

Dad dropped my sister off at church with my mom and took me to this little diner sort of place we used to go to as a family when my brother and I were small. We ordered bad coffee (my favorite) and talked about so much. We relived my childhood. I thanked him for making his and Mom's relationship the priority in our family, instead of putting us kids first. We talked about my friends. He expressed a normal amount of worry about me moving out, finding an apartment, starting grad school, and finding a job. We talked about school. He made me take a toy from the treasure chest at the counter like I did when I was 6. We discussed the new Star Wars movie.

No one will ever convince me that mornings like this with my dad are not a good reason not to be at a Sunday morning gathering. This isn't the first time we've done this - I remember a particularly special morning when I was about six, my dad took us on a nature walk in the early Wisconsin winter to look at the frost instead of to church. We walked quietly through the woods admiring the patterns the frost made on leaves and late berries. He took turns carrying my brother and I on his shoulders to see into the trees. We went back to the house and listened to a tape of worship music while he read out of Genesis.

I started my morning on the verge of tears. I left for HU at peace. I spent the hour car ride praying, reflecting on how thankful I am for my dad and how important it is to not just be the church in your community as a vague term, but to be the church with your family, whatever shape that takes.

Friends, what I hope you to hear is this: after all our talk about big picture issues, peace really can be as simple as a cup of diner coffee. You don't know how much peace and assurance you can bring by loving your family. Families are our starting point, our foundation, and even if yours is broken (which most of ours are in one way or another), you can make a difference. Sometimes our families are the hardest people to live at peace with. They know us too well sometimes. Parents and siblings saw all the hard parts of your growing up, all the angst of adolescence and the confusion of solidifying your identity. You saw the ends of bad days, when everything was annoying and the whole house was tense, and your parents didn't really feel like being parents but they had to be. Sometimes, these are the people it is hardest to love, but who need us to love them the most.

Peace can be hard. But it can also be easy as diner coffee. Break the routine of grumpiness, whether in yourself (if you're like me) or in someone else. Be the church for your parent, your sibling, or your child by loving them exactly where they are. Thank them for all the good in them, and just let them be them. Reach out. Listen.

One last thing: Thank you Dad, for showing me how to be the church when we aren't in church.

25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Come - Day 12

I am in a season of life where it is really difficult to call myself a Christian.

I love my faith, truly and deeply. In the scary and the beautiful , God has been faithful. The peace and joy and wonder I experience is both supportive and challenging.

But the church makes me angry.

I don't mean any specific church. In fact, the churches I have been part of, on the whole, have been wonderful. But I look at the state of the universal church, the way Christians have responded to terrorism, refugees, orphans, world hunger, and it makes me not want to be associated with them.

In light of the attacks on Paris, the overwhelming majority of social media posts I saw were hateful and angry. Some were angry at the terrorists, which was valid, but the anger was so widely directed that it attacked innocent Muslims as much as the extremists. More were angry at the media, that Paris received so much press, even as terrible things were happening in Japan, Beirut, and Baghdad. For days the social media wars raged. My social media circles are predominately Christian, and I was outraged at how little support and love was shown towards the attacked, in any location. It became a storm of opinions and debate, making these tragedies about our social and political agendas instead of about the victims.

In response to the Syrian refugees... I know these people exist, I see their presence everywhere, but I cannot wrap my brain around the fact that there are people who sincerely believe refugees are a danger to us. That there are otherwise intelligent, compassionate, good people who see these hurting and desperate people as a danger to us and our home.

More and more, my heart aches for the number of orphans and children who belong to the state. I will likely talk about this at length in another post, but the percentages are startling. I hear recently that if one family in every three local churches adopted a child from the foster care system, there would be no more children in foster care. Can you wrap your mind around that for a second? If the church opened its arms to the orphans, as Christ specifically commanded, we could feasibly eradicate the need for children to live without permanent families. It doesn't even have to be every family. Not even every church, One church out of three - one family from one church out of three. How simple is that?

World hunger is a more complicated problem, I fully acknowledge. But it has been so frustrating to watch. Working with campus ministries, both years I suggested sponsoring a child as floor. Lots of CMCs did. Most times it failed - college kids couldn't consistently find the money to provide food and schooling for a kid overseas. But we managed our Taco Bell runs... I am 100% guilty of this, please don't hear me sounding holier-than-thou.

Those are strong statements. I don't like them. They make my heart weary and my soul hurt. But they are statements I feel deeply. I feel them so strongly because I love the church. The church is the Bride, the Body of Christ, members of the kingdom that is already but not yet. It is the reflection of eternity. At least we are meant to be. That is why these inconsistencies and acts of hatred cause me so much despair.

I originally wrote this post at the very beginning of 25 Days for Peace. After the things God has taught me through this journey, I am still disheartened, but not without hope. God is working, he is still sovereign even when his people fail. Even when I fail. If you take anything from this post, I hope it is this: People of God, our family needs prayer. We need revolution and renewed dependence on the grace of our Savior.

Come, Emmanuel, please come soon.

25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Thought - Day 11

Another short, late post because today has been a very long, weird day. But here is what I learned about peace today:

It is gonna be a journey. 

I think I went into this experiment thinking that I would spend 25 days thinking on peace and then I would get it. I'd know how to live at peace with myself, my community, and my world. It will take me so much more than that. Peace is not something to be achieved, for me it's going to be a journey. Probably one that takes years. I'm wrestling with so many questions, so many disconnects, so many concerns and I don't think God meant for me to tackle them all in 25 days. But this has kickstarted the journey. I can't imagine the heights God will take me too.

Pray - Day 10

I told you my mom was full of wisdom.

Today she came home from her morning shift and we talked about some tension between her coworkers. She repeated her advice that I shared with you all a few days ago - you can't control how she behaves, you can only control how you respond. Then she offered another vital piece of wisdom: pray for her. Pray for the girl causing the tension.

I know, Jesus said it first, but it just goes to show how great Brenda is.

It got me thinking about all the frustration I've been feeling about the world recently. I get super riled up about any number of things lately, which I've touched on in previous posts, and it is humbling to realize how little prayer I've put into it. My first reaction is blaming others, then taking a look at myself, but how often do I pray for the ones who are causing the strife?

It isn't about changing them. It's about changing me. Praying for the people who make you angry, the people who oppress, the people who harm others does something for your heart. It forces you to consider why they do the things they do, see them as real humans beings. How would our world be different?

I'm embarrassed to say, I don't really know what this looks like. 

So my challenge, mostly for myself, but for any of you too, is this: Pick just one. Someone in your life, someone in the media, an organization, a religious group that makes you angry. Pray for them. Genuinely, with compassion and love, consider why they are the way they are. Ask for kindness to be shown to them that day, that they would feel loved, that they would receive grace.

See what happens.

25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Serve - Day 8

Tonight I was watching Doctor Who in the front room of our house. I had made a little tortilla pizza, and I'd finished my soda with one slice left to eat. My brother was sitting in the next room on his laptop, a bit closer to the kitchen than I was, so I asked if he'd bring me a glass of water. He paused his video to bring me some.

I suddenly remembered the thousands of times I've asked my little brother to do things for me. Some were reasonable, others less. My whole family operates in this fashion, of asking for small acts of service or offering them. I don't mind it in the slightest now, it brings me a lot of joy to do small things for my family, but as a teenager it bothered me that I was always asked to let the dog out even though Dad was closer to the door. (Oddly, calling my sister in from across the house to do it when I was a few feet from the door was perfectly reasonable.)

But my dear brother, the overwhelming majority of the time, does these little acts with happiness. No fancier word for it, he is just happy. He shares his ice cream so Bit and I can have a girl's night in front of the TV. He spends ages brushing the dog because poor Frodo is so itchy, and the brush gives him some relief. He brings my parents their sodas from the cooler, because one of them inevitably forgets when they sit down to eat. He makes late night Walmart runs for Dad when he wants ice cream (we've both done it, not usually with excitement, but Cy is much less grumpy about it than I am).

This habit of little acts is what makes our home such a peaceful place. There are other factors, but I'd venture to say this is one of the most important. Small services, and the freedom to ask for them, nurtures a sense of reliance. In the best way. We lean on each other in tiny daily moments, and when the outside world is too much, it's our peaceful sanctuary of service we all return to. As our family grows older and the dynamic changes, I am more and more thankful for this environment. I love the little ways we offer to serve each other and the general peacefulness that lies over our home.

I'm still struggling with how to really make sense of peace, but today I am struck with how my battle with peace exists only outside my home. My family is not perfect, we have moments of frustration and annoyance. We don't always live up to each others expectations and sometimes we don't trust each other's intentions the way we should. Occasionally we disagree. But at the heart, we are at peace with each other. In our teasing and our service and our many, many car trips, my family has established peace that pervades the five of us. I hope I never take it for granted.


25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Still - Day 7

Peace.

It's been a week on this journey and I still don't know what it means. I sit down to write and my mind goes to grace, love, hope, joy. Those are the themes of my life and my education and my experiences. I don't know how to talk about peace. Still.

Is that it? Still... Stillness. I'm pretty horrid at stillness. I'm realizing recently how grossly addicted I am to this little computer in my pocket. I can't even watch tv without also surfing Facebook or Twitter or Instagram. I scroll humor sites at night until literally my eyes won't stay open. I would sit in my cubicle working diligently, and the first moment I looked away from my work I'd pick up my phone. When my phone was out of commission for a few days it was some of the most exhausting but peaceful time I'd had in recent memory.

Maybe what I'm finding is that my phone is causing more unrest that peace. Perhaps that's obvious, but it's occurring to me now. I'm struggling so much with this concept. It's occurred to me that perhaps why is that I'm so busy in this season. Finishing my internship, finishing my semester, writing grad school application essays, traveling, and all the things that come with Christmas, I'm booked! I had thought about cutting something out, but what to cut out? Perhaps this is my answer, friends. Put the phone away.

I guess all I can do is try. Today I'm at HU with friends, tomorrow is plasma donation and lunch with a friend, then I'll be secluding myself in coffee shops to crank out papers for the rest of the week. Here's the goal: leave my phone in my bag. Take a book to plasma donation. Don't put the thing on the table during meals. Leave it in my room while I watch TV with my family.

Here it goes. Wish me luck.

Questions - Day 6

I'm struggling with what to write today. My Piece post a few days ago felt good, and it was more for me than for any of you. Yesterday felt almost like a cop out. Occurred to me while I was packing, I knew it could be bent to talk about peace, so up it went. Today I sit in the tech booth, on my last day at Veritas, scrolling Facebook and Twitter, searching for something to respond to. The pastor is talking about glory and wonder, which are some of my most favorite topics in church and theology. But none of my responses lead me to peace. 

I keep coming back to Facebook posts. I know it's too typical, but man, am I really starting to hate Facebook. I've thought about deleting it, or just deleting the app so I stop scrolling so often. I never feel good after reading my newsfeed. Dissension, anger, hate, complaining, and self absorption litter my screen. Facebook does not make me love people. I kind of hate them, to be honest, after I spend time there.

Going back to a different post a few days back, Facebook makes me blame everyone else for the world's problems. It leads me to look at everyone else, compare myself to them. I start thinking things like "I may not be helping refugees, but at least I don't hate Muslims." and "I can't believe there are people that stupid - why don't they understand what I understand?"

I know I talked a big game at looking at myself, how I am the problem. But the reality is, I suck at it. I'm so good at blaming everyone else. It's the politicians faults, it's the racists faults, it's ISIS's fault, it's the wider church's fault. I never look at myself. What is my responsibility? Josh's post Confusion echoed my heart exactly. I don't know what to do. I know something must be done, but what? So I give up. I blame everyone else. I put the responsibility on everyone but myself to do the right thing.
I promote unrest by doing nothing. I am an opponent to peace because I hide from the hard answers. It hurts too much to find the right answer. It shakes things up too much. It makes me someone that deep down I am afraid of being.

I've always heralded the CS Lewis quote:  "I didn’t go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity."

Currently, Christianity is making me very uncomfortable. God is requiring of me hard things. Things that make me look at me and not at others. Today, I don't have answers, I only have more questions. But on this step of the journey, that's all I have to offer.

25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

My Open Letter to Veritas

This morning, I want to thank the people of Veritas.

Today is the day I pack up my car and make the last drive back to Indiana. I have been so blessed by this place, even when I tried to resist.

Saying goodbye is harder than expected. I have learned to love it here. Living here has made me more aware and more sensitive to the world. Veritas families have shown me how to love each other when it isn't easy, how to commit to a community even when you aren't welcomed with open arms, how to live the Gospel in ways that don't just sound Christian on the surface but make tangible differences in people's lives, among a hundred other lessons.

So a few thank you's:

To Joe, for accepting my hodge podge of skills and helping me make the most of them; for pushing my understanding of Gospel formed worship; and for letting me be part of conversations that were way over my head.

To Emily, for welcoming all of my awkwardness with open arms; for constant encouragement; for answering my endless questions; for being a friend even knowing I'd be leaving.

To all the cube lifers, for conversations over cube walls; for lanch parties; for the genuine interest you showed in my life; for giving me glimpses into life after undergrad that made me a lot less scared.

To the staff, for telling your stories and letting me observe - most of you probably don't know how much I learned from just sitting in staff meetings and listening to the way all your ministries work together - you have all shaped me and have affected the way I will do ministry in my own home for years to come.

To Tony and Susan, for opening your home to a stranger; for not just giving me a bed to sleep in but a safe place to come home to when I was so far away from my own family; for being open books and teaching me so much about life and family and ministry and how to live the Gospel.

To Genna, Chewie, and TidBit, for worming your way into my heart when I was pretty darn determined to keep my distance; for warm little hugs on really hard days; for showing me that someday (in the distant future) I might actually be cut out to be a parent; and yeah, especially you Chewie, for endless toddler selfies to look back on when school is just too hard.

To my Community Group, for embracing me with open arms, despite how out of place I really was; for giving me a picture of really living life together; for your prayers when internship was rough.

To the Veritas bands, for not laughing at my total lack of skill, for your creativity and passion that gave me hope for better worship trends in the wider church.

To my homeless and recently not-homeless friends, for letting me love you even when I couldn't do anything to help; for laughing with us; for enthusiastically serving our church; for making me not the only one here who drinks wimpy coffee.

Faceless - Day 5

I have a lot to get done today. I move back to Auburn tomorrow, and I hadn't even begun packing when I woke up this morning. I figured I would take ten minutes, scroll through some photographs, and do something quick and creative for my post today. As I marked pictures for possible interpretation, I noticed something.

None of them had faces.

A tree covered in ice, a framed wreath, some Christmas lights, the Columbus skyline, my siblings bent over some tangled tree lights, some flowers, my aunt and grandmother preparing Thanksgiving dinner with their backs to the camera - all the pictures that struck me as peaceful didn't show any faces. Even the ones with people in them had their backs to my lens.

Why do you think?

It's probably a bit dramatic, but here is my thought: faces reveal us. They always reflect something of the dissonance inherent to humanity. Even at our calmest, most tranquil, we are not at rest. Not yet. There will always be something warring inside us or against each other.

Because we fell, our faces will always reflect unrest.

What will that be like? When our Savior returns, creation is made new, and we are freed from our brokenness for eternity? When there is no more dissension in your eyes when you look at me, and no more irritation in mine when I look into yours? When we will finally be at peace?

25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Piece - Day 4

I've been thinking about this post for a long time. Much longer than when I first learned I'd get to be a part of 25 Days for Peace, even before I moved to Columbus. Call me a narcissist if you'd like, that's alright.

How often do you look back at who you used to be and wonder what they would think of you now?

This was me:

I'm probably twelve or thirteen in these shots. I loved those camo pants. I found out later that a couple of my peers used to try and toss erasers down the back of them during classes - I was entirely unaware of that game. Tom boy was definitely the look I was going for. I embraced my middle school awkwardness with gusto. I was shy, but not uncomfortable with who I was. I had no reason to be, no one in my life had ever given me a reason to.

 This was the bad year - as little as these pictures probably show it. A better hair cut, contacts, more make up, those were the signs of my insecurity. An experience the summer before I started high school sent me spiraling into a depression I couldn't control. In an effort to fit in with a handful of people and to somehow express what was going on inside of me, I embraced heavy eye make up, dark clothes, and darkened hair. I was questioning everything and carrying around a lot of anger. I didn't really want to be alive anymore. It was too hard.

But God, in his unbelievable grace and mercy, rescued me. He completely wrecked my world, brought me literally to my knees and in the midst of my tears lifted me out. It was, to this day, the most beautiful moment of my life. Once I gave up trying to fit in, it was easy. The people I had tried so hard to connect to finally saw me for who I was, and while I got to keep them for a time, God had better in mind. I made amazing friends those two years. My sophomore and junior years were goofy and silly and wonderful. I had committed to the dark look, but now I did it for other reasons.

 I wanted to make people look twice. My smile was bright, I was coming out of my shell in leaps and bounds, but my make up was still dark and my hair over my face. I wore predominately black, when I could manage it. I loved to see the confusion on people's faces when I opened my mouth and a personable, warm, energetic kid came out, rather than the sullen adolescent they were expecting. I wore my pseudo-emo style with pride. Behind it, I was a rule-follower, through and through, rarely questioning authority.

My youth group was my world these years, and I was sure I would never have better friends than them. I was usually surrounded by boys, and I was comfortable with that. Girls usually caused drama, in my short life experience, I did not have patience for it. The few girls I let in were precious to me. The theme of these years was floating - I made choices, usually good ones, but didn't think too far ahead. I had been through my fire, and I thought the worst was over. God had changed me, and this is who I would be forever.

 God had a very different plan. My senior year of high school threw me into a place I never imagined I'd be - something an outsider might call popularity? For any of my high school classmates who may read this, please, feel free to laugh. It's really quite funny, looking back. But for years, my friends and I had been self-assigned dorks/geeks/nerds/losers, whatever term seemed fitting in the moment. We were the drama club, the band geeks, choir nerds. We had slumber parties and movie marathons, we didn't go to parties or concerts. We were in the mezz for sporting events because half of us were in the pep band. We didn't date and didn't care if others did. I felt invisible at school, for the most part, and I liked that. It was comfortable and easy and no one questioned it.

Then suddenly I was somewhere else. I had entirely different friends, I went to basketball and soccer games because these friends were on the team, and had the time of my life there. I had school spirit, for a hot second, before it was replaced by a new kind of rebellious energy. I felt like people could see me for the first time. I wasn't just the quiet kid. I was one of them, one of the people other people noticed, talked about. The whole thing was extremely high school, every part of every thing I was feeling. I loved it. I felt energized, I mattered, I could make a difference. I wasn't looking for it, but now that I wasn't in the shadows, I didn't ever want to go back.

Remember the eraser throwing? Yeah, the guy with the yellow 0 on his chest was the main culprit. Almost ten years after the fact, and I won't ever let him live it down. You're welcome Jake.

I was still me - the voice of reason when my new friends got hyped up about one thing or another, still a little more withdrawn than the rest, still a rule follower at my core - but a very, very different me. I still loved my style, and wore it like a badge of honor. It took on a new edge, something that came with my new frustration with school authority figures. As the year progressed, the outside edges softened while the inside ones sharpened. I started letting go of the residual tomboy instincts and the need for my appearance to be so stark. I lost weight too, not a lot, but enough that I didn't have the same baby face. Now I wanted people to see something sweet on the outside, but with more attitude on the inside. All of these changes brought new confidence I didn't realize I had been lacking.

I think that may be what started my fall. Senior year had me on top of the world, but it's also when I started thinking I knew what was best. I started making choices that I wouldn't have even considered before, I was hiding things from my friends at school and my parents, which never would have crossed my mind. I started taking steps down a path of supposed self-sufficiency that led nowhere good.

The summer before college was hard. I had ended the year on top of the mountain. Then I was alone. High school friends don't know how to be friends when there is no more high school, which is no one's fault. The youth group I had been so close to wasn't going to be home anymore - I think it hadn't been home in a while. I was in a secret relationship, that even when it came to light, still wasn't something anyone in my life approved of. I felt it was wrong, but I was so determined to make my own choices, consequences be damned. One of my closest friends told me he didn't want anything to do with me anymore, he hated who I had turned into over the last year. I got sick - really sick. I dropped 30 pounds and couldn't walk across my living room without stopping to take a break. It took the rest of the summer to be somewhat normal.

That's where I started college. Feeling like I had lost my whole world, my whole identity. My only support was my romantic relationship, which after only six months was starting to turn toxic. (The school had recommended that my parents not call me my first month on campus, to help me become more independent. A suggestion they make to all parents of freshman, with good intentions, but it wasn't what I needed at the time.) I didn't know how to make friends, didn't know how to define myself anymore. My hair fell out, I struggled to eat normally, and I spent all my time in my room.

Thank God for these women, who made the first steps toward healing me. My freshman room mate and the girl who would be my future room mate - they befriended me, the best way I didn't know I needed. They didn't ask much from me, but gave so much. Their love gave me the courage to branch out. The relationships I built on the floor gave me a foundation to try new things, start reshaping my identity. I was the quiet girl again, but my insides and my outsides finally started to match. I was a little off-beat, a little quirky, but warm and bright. I wanted to be known, although I still didn't know why, or how to ask.

Sophomore year of college was a year of change. I was making the best friends. I was learning more about God and about myself than I thought possible. But I was still stuck in a toxic relationship. I lived on a roller coaster that year. My relationship kept me stuck to the person I was, someone I hated, while my life at school was shaping and forming me into someone I loved. When I was with my friends - my girls from my freshman floor, my campus ministry team, and my friends from the ministry department - I was overwhelmed with joy and love. When I was alone, I was terrified. I knew I had to get out of the relationship, I knew it was killing me and killing him.

But I was scared. I had promised to love him forever, and I didn't know who I was if I broke a promise like that. I didn't let myself think about it. I blamed it on Seasonal Affective Disorder. I was panicked all the time. I felt like God had abandoned me - he never did, not for a second of it, I just refused to listen.

Finally, God worked through someone entirely unexpected, and she gave me the strength to break free. For my own health, and for his.

So here I am. That's my story. Why tell you all that? If you made it this far, you are likely wondering what this all has to do with peace (as well as why I pasted 800 photos in this post).

I'm trying to make peace with myself.

I'm still all those people. I'm still the carefree child, the hopeless adolescent, the rebellious teenager, the quiet kid, the uncertain young adult, as well as the healthier, somewhat more at ease young woman I am right now. All those people exist within me, all at the same time. It's exhausting sometimes. It's confusing too. The psuedo-emo definitely hates my borderline hipster style. The small child wishes I would spend more time reading and playing with puppies. The freshman in college me wonders why my boyfriend of a year and I aren't ready to get engaged yet. The girl I was as a sophomore in high school really hates the girl I am as a senior in college; I question things too much, I'm too open, I'm too liberal, and I change too much. I'm not what anyone expected me to be - at least, not what I expected to be.

This experiment is about searching for peace. While I've tried to write about topics outside of myself, topics that will interest and engage my world, I keep getting lost, getting stuck. When I started writing this - 8 hours ago - I wanted to make some peace within myself. Make connections between all these people I feel warring inside my head, give them common ground.

I think this is what I found:

God always knew.

He knew that imaginative child would hit so many roadblocks to grown-up happiness. He knew my first wrestling match with him needed to come early, because there were scarier things ahead and I would need to know how to hear his voice. He knew I needed to feel unexpected, because all too soon the world would try to mold me in its image instead of his. He knew I needed to learn to love and then be left, to love and then have to do the leaving myself, because I will spend my life walking beside people who have done felt both.

Thanks for reading. If nothing else, I encourage you to do this yourself. Find some old pictures and ask what the person in that photograph would think of who you are now. Why did God bring you through that stage of life? What did you learn? Maybe you won't know yet, and that's ok. But if you're like me, you might find some peace in just looking at the pieces spread out before you.

 25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Change - Day 3

"You can't control how others behave - you can only control how you respond."

This is one of many "Brenda-isms" that filled my childhood. My mom is a wonderfully compassionate and level-headed person, who did her best to instill a sense of optimistic realism in my siblings and I. Other golden phrases include "happiness is a choice", "now, this is a life lesson, so I'm going to tell you even though you don't want to hear it...", and "you're right, life isn't fair." Brenda is a very wise woman.

Regulating my response to other's behavior became a guiding factor in my life. Especially as a teenager, I couldn't quite grasp why my peers were so affronted by so many things. Controlling your response was easy, I thought, so why did people get so angry?

As I've grown up, though, I've gotten things a little bit twisted. I'm still good at controlling my response, most of the time. But now the thing that makes me most angry? When other people can't seem to do the same. When the response to difference or tragedy is divisions and hate I find myself outraged. Why can't we be better? Why can't we be smarter, kinder, gentler, more peaceful?

I wish we could realize change has to begin with us. I wish I could realize the change has to begin with me.

We can rage at politicians and pastors and teachers and universities and social media activists and other religions for not fixing the problems of the world, but we can't control them. We can't influence every person to think and act the way we do - as much as we seem to try. We expect so much more out of others than we do out of ourselves. I expect more out of you than I do out of me.

All you can do is change you. All I can do is change me.

In response to the San Bernardino shooting, and other recent tragedies, what do we do? Perhaps hypocritically, I suggest staying off social media. Tweeting your support for victims is a nice gesture, for sure, but maybe before, take some time to stop and pray. Serious, heart-wrenching prayer. Ask that scary thing of God, that he would break your heart for what breaks his. For me, this means staying off social media not because I'm tempted to comment, but I am so easily outraged by what I see. More about that another day.

I will probably say a lot of things over the course of this experiment that sound judgmental, condescending, arrogant, prideful, or holier-than-thou. I know myself well enough to admit that. But what I most need to realize is that making peace with the world around me means creating peace within myself, and loving the very people who so outrage me.



25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Advent - Day 2

A large part of this journey for me this season is making peace with the world around me. I have a tendency to bottle up frustration with the state of my world. I harbor a lot of unrest sometimes when I think about how much fuss people make over things that seem to me so frivolous. The annual complaint about "the war on Christmas" is one of those things.

I have always loved Christmas. It brings warm fuzzy feelings to my heart and makes the beginning of the cold season much less sucky. My family has a myriad of traditions, mostly typical - baking cookies with my mom and sister, decorating the house together, attending the Christmas Eve service, opening just one gift on Christmas Eve (spoiler alert, it's pajamas!), visiting family, and all around goodness and cheer. I love buying presents, I love wrapping presents, I love planning for presents, I love watching people open presents, and I love getting presents (I don't care if I'm not supposed to say that, its true!). I have a good excuse to put peppermint in everything. If I want to wear a sweater every day for a month, no one will judge me. Christmas is wonderful.

Lots of people in my world have been saying for years that these are not the things Christmas is about.

I would like to humbly disagree.

Presents and snowmen and trees and snow and reindeer and family gatherings and cookies and singing; these are what Christmas is about, the Christmas that is a cultural holiday. Because Christmas stopped being about Christianity long before any of us was born. (1647, actually, according to the Puritans.)

Would you like to know what is about Jesus?

Advent.

Advent is something very different entirely. Advent is a season of darkness, waiting, expectation, and anticipation. Something peaceful and eager, looking forward to the coming of the Savior who changes everything. It is a season of wonder and joy, looking back on the grace God has shown us.

Advent is also wonderful.

Advent is not Christmas. Christmas is not Advent.

As Christians, we can have the blessing of intertwining our culture and our faith. Christmas came from Advent, centuries ago, and there are still overlaps. Advent doesn't celebrate Christ's birth until January, but there's no reason not read the story of his birth on our cultural Christmas. Advent is meant for remembering God's grace, and how better to appreciate the grace you have been shown than by spreading goodness and hospitality through caring for the poor and underprivileged in your neighborhood? Bring as much faith to Christmas as you want! Sing the Advent carols, put an angel on the tree, set out the nativity scene, reflect on Christ as God's gift to us as we gives gifts to each other, integrate your cultural experience with the richness of faith!

I'm not good at celebrating Advent, and part of this journey for peace is about getting better. I hope you find some time in the beautiful crazy of the Christmas season to rest and to expect. Reflect on the grace and the goodness of the year behind you - even in the darkest year there is something. Look forward to the celebration of the Messiah, and to another year to serve and to bless. Please, join me in searching for peace and joyful expectation these next weeks.


25 Days for Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Leaving - Day 1

I was going to start 25 Days of Peace with a little intro, a little discussion about what peace means, probably a deep theological investigation on all the avenues of the term.

God had another plan.

I've hit the last week of my internship, and I am overwhelming thankful for the gift of God's peace. Two weeks ago, I was a panicked sort of sad about leaving Columbus. It felt like I had spent the whole six months wishing I was home, and now I couldn't bear to leave. Every hug from Ahbry and Genna, every long dinner chat with Susan, every office lunch, and every pot of coffee I brewed brought up a well of emotion. (Don't judge - you spend as much time making coffee as I do, you'll develop an attachment too.) Just thinking about leaving caused high levels of anxiety.

Then I went home.

Thanksgiving break was full and beautiful. I sat in IHOP for six hours drinking endless cups of coffee with my friends. I had Thanksgiving dinner with my closest aunt, one set of grandparents, and my immediate family. I got to play with so many family dogs. I ran errands for my dad and went grocery shopping with Mom. I watched four Marvel movies with my brother. I helped bathe and administer medicine to my beloved dog to help nurse him back to health. I had coffee with my oldest and best friend, catching up on hardly a fraction of everything that has happened since September. My sister and I had chances to reconnect. I had lunch and long talks with my other set of grandparents.

I returned to Columbus full of peace and joy, completely at rest in myself.

I'm still sad about leaving. I've cherished the beautiful experience in this complex city. I'm still walking around saying "This is my last (staff meeting, gathering review, pot of coffee, morning drive, etc)". But I can really enjoy it now! I can love every last moment of my time here because God has granted me peace. I am leaving a beautiful place and incredible people, but I get to return to a place equally as beautiful and people just as incredible!

As I look back on my life, God has been good in this area. I loved high school, but when it came time to leave, I was ready. He orchestrated events that made me eager to move on to the next thing, and made leaving my educational home easier. As I have transitioned away from the church that has been my home for almost my entire life, God has opened doors to make that change easier, and show me how much finding a new community is the best choice. As I look forward to graduation, God has used this internship experience to show me how the relationships I have built will follow me, even when my friends are scattered. Graduation doesn't mean the end of what I've worked to build, it just means a transformation.

Leaving is hard. But God, in his infinite grace and wisdom, has granted me peace.


25 Days of Peace is a cooperative blogging experiment between myself and five other artists, designed to explore the facets of peace, particularly centered around this season intended to experience the peace of Christ. Visit this page to see the other contributions to this journey, and like it to join with us in exploring what peace means.

Lunch Break

There is something powerful about sharing meals. I’ve heard that said many times. In all the best books about community and hospitality and relational ministry they mention sharing meals, breaking bread, family dinners. I always want for more to be said, so I guess that means I need to say it. The best way I know how is to tell a few stories first.

The Bubble

High school was really a pretty amazing time for me. I’d been in the same school since kindergarten, known the same people my whole life. My best friend and I had been such since the second grade. I’d weathered teenage angst, maybe a little more sharply than some, and come out the other side it seemed, by the time I came to senior year. I didn’t expect for much to change. I’d go to the same sorts of parties and we’d tell the same jokes we’d been telling since the seventh grade and we would graduate in the spring just slightly more mature versions of ourselves. Then on the first day of our senior year, a girl I was moderately good friends with decided that she and I and a third friend were going to sit at a table essentially populated by boys. Now, the strangeness of this was determined by factors of high school social politics that would take a long time to explain, and would bore you very much, so suffice to say it was a bold move. The three of us sat down at their lunch table without announcement, and suddenly, the third friend and I became part of their circle. We ate lunch with them, sat on their couch in study hall, joined their section of chairs in the classroom, and were assumed members of group projects. (For more high school typical reasons, the first friend was less automatically embraced, and socially ended the school year in a very different place than she began.)

This meal time change altered the whole course of my year. Lunch hour with what we affectionately dubbed “the bubble” was mostly a highly energetic affair. Most keenly I remember heated debates on the meaning of 'metrosexual’, paintings done in ranch dressing on paper plates, dissected pizza slices, towers of trash on red plastic trays, deciding to cook a whole pound of bacon in the communal microwave, and much eye rolling at each other’s general ridiculousness. From lunch came other meals. After school stops at Taco Bell with one friend became common. When one friend’s parents were away, I and one other went over to make pancakes and watch cartoons. After a party, holing up in a McDonalds, eating terrible fries, and trying to write a presentation. A particularly special evening we spent way too long figuring out how to split the cost of a pizza after a late night working on our most epic final project.

Graduation came, and things changed, as they should. I looked back on that last year and nothing was the same as it was going to be. Briefly we all had the feeling that some night soon would be the last we saw of each other. But that night never came. We saw each other every few months instead of every day. Meals became drawn out affairs, lasting hours, into the early morning most times. The numbers vary, sometimes two or three, often six, only once all nine of us sit together and share a meal. Coming up on four years later – ages in the life of school friends at our stage of life – we’re making plans for our Thanksgiving reunion, per usual.

These most unexpected friends taught me more about friendship than I think even they know. At one point I looked across the table at IHOP and thought, “If they met me now, without this history, would they still be part of my life? Would I be part of theirs?” I’ve learned how to talk about faith differently. We are all growing in this, but it is one of the most profoundly amazing things I have been a part of in my short life. We grew in different ways, different directions, different courses, different goals. Despite being the same age together, we are in vastly different places in life – school, jobs, relationships, and faith look so different in each life. But we sit down to meals together and in the course of our burgers or pancakes we reach the point of honesty. I think it’s in those moments we realize more than ever how little we know. These friends teach me more about life than I could have imagined. Just by being and allowing me to be with them, they force me to think differently about career and education and marriage and God and the world.

Ministry Lunch

My freshman year of college was a very weird time for me. As previously mentioned, I’d been in the same school my whole life. I’d never had to make friends from scratch before, there was always history, or the new friend was encountering me in my comfort zones of school and church. Pick that girl up and set her down on a college campus and internal chaos ensues. I had no idea how people made friends.

Thank God for whoever it was that decided a random assortment of people from our Foundations of Christian Ministry class should eat lunch together after class twice a week. I was outrageously uncomfortable, but so pleased that someone wanted me around. That particular group of classmates wasn’t consistent, and after the class ended, so did lunch gatherings. But one particularly persistent friend was intent on ‘getting the gang back together’ in our second semester. It happened once or twice that spring. Oddly enough, the fall of our sophomore year, a segment of that original lunch group was rounded up again, by our persistent friend if I remember correctly. There were five of us now, myself the only girl, all ministry majors. The bond between us was quick and strong, for reasons that none of us are quite sure of even today. We all have theories, but no real answers. We developed an odd familial dynamic, complete with parental roles and birth order. Suddenly, I was Mom. We ate lunch as a family twice a week, plus dinners randomly in different combinations. We had movie nights and one very strange trip for ice cream an hour away. Then we adopted a freshman worship major, and our family grew. It’s hard for me to explain the weirdness and the beauty and the joy of it without sounding like a nutjob.

Sophomore year of college was probably the hardest year of my short life. But becoming family with those boys was one of the two things that God gave me to get me through it. (The other being another beautiful group of friends, but that is a story for another essay.) Telling them about the fear and the breakdowns and the hard choices I was making gave me strength. When the toxic relationship that was the nucleus of so many of my issues finally broke, they were there to force me back into life. When I got strings of painful texts, they were there to remind me how ridiculous his accusations were, and in one case someone stepped in to put a stop to it. Over the course of the last two and a half years, they have come to me for counsel and let me cry on their shoulders. Our friendships have been tested in so many ways, some unique to us, but just as many simply the growing pains of early adulthood. Not all of it was idyllic. A lot of it was hard. Some days I wanted to punch them.  Others I had to fight the protective instinct to punch someone who hurt them. I cried over broken relationships and destructive behaviors in all of their lives. In a stage of life when romantic relationships suddenly held so much more weight, we learned how to have healthy male/female friendships – through a whole hell of a lot of trial and error. I got to rejoice in their triumphs and cry tears of joy when they overcame the hurdles life had set in front of them. Sometimes we disagreed so deeply that I questioned if we were going to stay friends. Sometimes individual friendships were really unhealthy.

But now as we teeter on the brink of “real” adulthood – graduation, marriage, ministry, even more education – I don’t question the place they hold in my life. I know it will change. If it didn’t, we would have a problem. We won’t have twice-weekly lunch or family movie nights. But these six months of PRIME have shown me that we can still have intense theological discussions and heart-warming, healing, late night chats. There’s even a chance we’ve accidentally provided future children with a whole host of extra aunts and uncles.

All of this: growth, love,  depth,  reflection of the Gospel – because someone invited me to lunch. Both times, unexpected. Both times, initially  unremarkable. But two and three and four years later, the people I ate regular meals with became irreplaceable.

Here’s my theory, in two parts:

Practically, there is something to be said about the function food can play. When you sit down to a meal together, you have to stop talking for a few minutes. Putting food in front you means that while you eat, someone else gets a chance to talk. It gives you a starting point – if you have nothing else to say, talk about food! Meals, done well, are a time for rest. It’s a moment to stand still, take a breath. Asking another person to join in that rest holds a degree of intimacy. This, I propose, is part of why we feel so affronted when someone we don’t know well asks to join us at an empty lunch table.

More importantly, there’s a reason Christ gave us a meal to remember him by, and told us to practice it regularly. Sharing food, stopping your day to connect with another person, nourishing your body and your soul in the same moment, these things are powerful. Don’t hear me saying that lunch with my friends is the same as a sacrament, but I am saying it is something more than just food. Communal meals are a sign of the life to come, the celebration of real community that we call “the marriage supper of the Lamb.”

A special word of encouragement to all my friends still in undergrad – pick one lunch a week, pick one person or group, and make it a habit, just for a semester. I promise, it will impact you. Particularly my HU friends – you’re already stopping at the hub or the DC after class. If you don’t have back to backs, why not take that hour to invest in a friend. Sacrifice your nap once a week, take a long lunch, and see what happens.

We can achieve something powerful if we choose to see our meal times as so much more than just a moment to pack some nutrients into our bodies. They are incredible opportunities to invest in other humans, and to be invested in. It refreshes you – yes, even us introverts – to connect, soul to soul, with another person. This, my stories above, is what we miss when we work through lunch every day, when we spend half of our lunch break on our phones, when we hit the drive through on our commute instead of sitting down with our families. We miss out on glimpses of eternity.

So take a lunch break.

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Obligatory introduction regarding the bizarre nature this reading list has taken on. Now we will proceed.

Later this week I will post an update on the approaching end of my internship, but today I wanted to return to this silly list. After this, there will likely be one more reading list post, when I've finished off the required school reading and tied a neat little bow on the whole thing. I knew trying to completely update the list and write little reviews on everything after the explosion of papers I'm about to write next week would just not be feasible. So here we are.

Reaching Out, by Henri Nouwen.
Look, a school book! I loved this. Loved it deeply. At this point, it has been the most influential piece of required reading I've done in the course of the internship. Nouwen speaks in simple, realistic terms that reach to the heart of the spiritual life, revealing some of the deepest set patterns of human experience. Even after writing a paper about this work, I struggle to convey even the surface level of the things I learned. The chapters on loneliness versus solitude have helped me see how my anxiety rises from my own loneliness, and how real peace can make all the difference in the way I live life.

Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis
One afternoon, I had a terrible lack of motivation for anything. So rather than fiddle around on busy work or social media, I read Mere Christianity. I'd started it once or twice, but I think what this book and I needed was just a solid, uninterrupted span to really get to know each other. They were hours well spent.The theme of love has been appearing in lots of things I've read on this journey, and Lewis said some of the most profound words on the subject. I'll quote just a few here: "Love in this second sense - love as distinct from being 'in love' - is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God." The emphasis is mine, but this was the moment that planted itself in my mind. Grace and love are inseparable. I couldn't love anyone without grace... This is a thought that needs more attention, which there is not space for here, and needs more working out in my own heart before I can really explore it here.

The Game, by Terry Schott
Sometimes when my brain gets tired of wading through theology, I get on the iBooks store and pick some scifi and fantasy novels from the free page. I did not expect to be so attached to this story! It was a sneaky trick, which I'm sure is common, putting just the first book out for free so now I'm dying to buy the other books to find out what happens. The whole premise is that of a virtual reality replacement for traditional education. Children through their teens plug into a computer which allows them to live multiple lives, gaining life experience before they enter the real world. The catch is that while in the game, they don't know that it's a game. The world of the game is called Earth.
Schott does a masterful job of drawing the reader in slowly, adding levels of complexity to the story slowly, so by the end of the first book there were plots upon plots all woven together, with a mystery looming that I can't wait to unravel. I worry though, since there are five books total, that the early complexity of the book may not be sustainable throughout. I have hope though! I recommend The Game for people who enjoyed Hunger Games for its fast pace and socio-political commentary, but if you're looking for a YA romance, this is not the place to look. The seeds are planted for potential romantic development in later stories, but only as pawns of the greater story line.

I Capture the Castle, Dodie Smith
I admit, my expectations and attitude going into this book were a huge factor in my loving it so much. It was recommended by my friend Kayla, the cover art was modern but understated, and the review on the cover was from JK Rowling, so I had it in my head that it was a recent publication. It wasn't until halfway through that I realized it was written in the 40s. All of that to say, I went into it with an open mind, and it paid off. The story flows beautifully, and the narrator has this blend of practicality, wistfulness, and imagination that I identified with strongly. Think Jane Austen, but with hippies of the 40s. It was glorious.

Unlovely, by Celeste Conway
If you've never heard of Ollie's, you're missing out on the most hodge-podge of discount stores. I've found that their bookshelves (logically located next to hair care products, just passed the dog food) are an entertaining guessing game. I've found brilliant little unknown books there.
This was not one of those.
I'm not sure what the author was going for. I thought it was going to be a spooky little story about ballerinas. Maybe she was trying? But I ended the book with a general distaste for the hero and all of his life choices, and I was generally in the dark about the creepy ballerinas and their little murder club. All in all, a decent idea that really didn't go anywhere.

The Gifting, by KE Ganshert
Another iBooks free download, and another sneaky trick to get me to buy more books. It worked again. I need to know what happens to them. This book freaked me out. I had nightmares. Mostly I think because the scary men only they can see where described in a way that reminded me of a supernatural serial killer from an anime, but that's just me.
I won't give this nearly as high praise as I did The Game, because while I was entertained, I don't see much lasting value in the story. It is fast paced however, an unsettling mix of medical drama, YA romance, and science fiction that obviously left me wanting more. A fun, creepy way to spend your time.

The Last Sin Eater, by Francine Rivers
This is a re-read, so I wasn't sure whether to include it, but it'd been years since I picked it up, so why not? Francine Rivers is a gem among Christian fiction writers. I have a soft spot for terrible Christian romances, the sort set in the old West with pioneers and school teachers and lots of horseback riding. However, Mrs. Rivers does a special thing, and creates stories of theological depth and pastoral importance in a pretty tired genre.
Sin Eater takes on questions about predestination, cultural sensitivity and appropriation, and the power of the Holy Spirit, as told through the eyes of a child. It's beautiful. Little Cady wrestles through grief to meet God, and God uses her to change her community in the face of death and strong evil. A wonderful book, and well worth returning to time and time again.

Origin, by Jessica Khoury
Another's Ollie's gamble, but a winner this time. It was a funny sort of story, about a medical experiment child who would live forever, born in the depths of the rain forest. A pretty typical YA novel, forbidden romance, teenage angst, questioning authority, but with neat scientific and mythological twists. Pia was a pretty likable narrator, rare for the genre. The ending was predictable, but not annoyingly so.

Unceasing Worship, by Harold Best
I have been trying to finish this book since July. It was slow, hard work, a few pages at a time. I had to keep stopping to digest what had been said. This book was profound and thick, and really changes my posture toward worship, art, and humanity. I really can't begin to explain the concepts concisely, I don't grasp them well enough for that yet, but I'll try and say just a few words.
Best paints a picture of humanity in the image of a Triune God, ceaselessly pouring out in praise and honor. The direction of this praise is always changing, but the outpouring never ends. The Christian life a training, to direct our worship where it should go. Upon this foundation, Best builds incredible doctrines of music and art and church. I try not to say this often, so take it with a grain of salt, but I believe this may be a book every Christian should read in their lifetime, and return to again, because it is difficult to entirely grasp the first time through.

The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini
It's always a weird feeling to recommend something that left you feeling so sad. But this story is important. Anne, my friend, I can't thank you enough for telling me how much I need to read this book.
The journey of this narrator is so complex, so true to life, so colorful and tragic. My heart broke over and over again. As the world around us is broken and hurting, and this story for me was a call to see the hurt more openly. It reminded me not to walk pass global tragedy with blinders. I say this carefully, because seeing the needs of the world has absolutely nothing to do with posting about it on a blog or social media, or just hashtagging the trendy tragedy of the moment. Someday, I will say more about that, but not today. This book was one of many steps on my own journey of learning, and I promise, while your heart should break, you will not regret this book.

Blue Like Jazz, by Donald Miller
What did I expect? My friend Kody has been heralding the brilliance of Donald Miller for ages. I picked up Blue Like Jazz at a thrift shop before I moved to Columbus, and figured now was a good enough time to see what the fuss was about. It sat on the shelf for a month or two. Then on my nightstand for another few months. Then a few weeks on my desk here at the office. Then yesterday, full of procrastination and general antsy-ness, I finally cracked it open.
So refreshing. So honest. So convicting. Another one I will definitely return to, as I gain more life experience, to see how my 21-year-old heart compares with my 30-year-old heart. Donald Miller expresses so many things I've thought myself, in less poetic words. In a more personal sense, it was thrilling to see a format I work in myself in print. I think I can safely say it is now one of my goals in life to have my own essays published in a way half as wonderful as Blue Like Jazz.
One word of caution, a very small one. This book speaks to my experience as a college student, and to some of frustrations with the church. It would be easy to read this and feel some righteous discontent and use it to fuel my desire for reform. But that is not the point Miller is making. At least not the main one. The central theme is individual reform. We all need to change. We all need Jesus, so desperately.

10,197 down, 360 to go!




theList//
Spiritual Leadership: Henry and Richard Blackaby
Reaching Out: Henri Nouwen
Unceasing Worship: Harold Best
The Dangerous Act of Worship: Mark Labberton
Silence: Shucaku Endo 
Christ Centered Worship: Bryan Chapell 
Rhythms of Grace: Mike Cosper
Mere Christianity: CS Lewis
Art for God's Sake: Philip Graham Ryken
Culture Making: Andy Crouch 
Works of Love: Soren Kierkegaard
Awake: Noel Brewer Yeats
Fahrenheit 451: Ray Bradbury
Till We Have Faces: CS Lewis 
Beauty: Robin Mckinley
The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya
Blue Like Jazz: Donald Miller
Click: Various Authors 
The Last Little Blue Envelope: Maureen Johnson
Out of the Silent Planet: CS Lewis
Perelandria: CS Lewis
That Hideous Strength: CS Lewis
Warrior: Francine Rivers 
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: JK Rowling
A Child Called It: David Pelzer 
Wither: Lauren DeStafano 
Merlin: TA Barron 
The Last Sin Eater: Francine Rivers 
As Nature Made Him: John Colapinto 
I Capture the Castle: Dodie Smith 
Unlovely: Celeste Conway 
Origin: Jessica Khoury 
The Kite Runner: Khaled Hosseini 
The Gifting: K.E. Ganshert 
The Game: Terry Schott 
Fever 1793: Laurie Halse Anderson