Vida Joven

I'm sitting in the hobbit house, and it kinda smells.... like Spam.... and it's my own fault....

Let me explain.

Wednesday night is Young Life night. Tonight's talk -- The Work of Christ. So what did we do to lead up to it? First, we played On The Mark. Everybody has a partner and the standing partner takes a straw, sucks up an M&M, and then tries to drop it in a cup.... that is being held by his partner.... who is laying on the ground... and has the cup in his mouth. My partner? Rick.... aka Coach Clark.... best known around school as the head football coach and our newest potential Young Life leader. The results are in, and I stink at that game.

And then we played Eat That Food -- which is like Name That Tune but with hidden food items. Some highlights were Jose and The Jalepeño (2 bites... he didn't make it), Jackie and The Jelly Donut (2 bites... and she made it), and Andy and The Tomato -- one bite. One glorious, squishy, juicy bite from the kid that HATES tomatoes but did it so his team would score a point. So funny. (The house smells like Spam because of Justin and The Spam -- 3 bites... he didn't get 1/6 of the way done before he caved.... insert evil laugh here...)

And then, I got to talk about Jesus, and I mean really talk about Jesus. Not in the vague way that I sometimes do in class when the topics of purity or faith come up, but in the He-is-God's-Son-and-He-died-so-we-don't-have-to way. Just like On the Mark, we all try to live a good life the best way we know how, but more often than not, we miss the mark. And sometimes we make a choice (I can eat that food in e bites) that leads to us having to deal with more than we can handle (I have to eat WHAT?). Are the metaphors perfect? Not even close. But the Truth was here, and the seed of His Truth was scattered.

Man, what a privilege. What a night. I don't know how the talk landed with any of them, but I do know my God. He is standing at the door knocking. I'm contentedly blissful that He lets me be involved in letting these beautiful, powerful, glorious young people know Who it is that is asking to be introduced to them.

Random left-over spam smells.... a small price to pay.

I'm Not Sorry...

Yes, I confess. I'm a die hard fan of So You Think You Can Dance. I know the contestants' names, have favorites (Russell!), and watch every week. In addition to the great dancing, I also love the music. Last year's favorite was "Falling Slowly" by The Frames, and this year's (so far anyway) is "Your Ex-Lover is Dead" by Star. There is a sweet cello line (or maybe an upright bass?) and the lyrics.... great story, great imagery, just plain good...

"Your Ex-Lover Is Dead"

Guy:

God, that was strange to see you again

Introduced by a friend of a friend

Smiled and said "yes I think we've met before"

In that instant it started to pour.

Captured a taxi despite all the rain

We drove in silence across Pont Champlain

And all of the time you thought I was sad

I was trying to remember your name...

Girl:

This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin

Tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in

Now you're outside me

You see all the beauty

Repent all your sin

Together:

It's nothing but time and a face that you lose

I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose

I'll write you a postcard

I'll send you the news

From a house down the road from real love...

Live through this, and you won't look back...

Live through this, and you won't look back...

Live through this, and you won't look back...

There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave

You were what I wanted

I gave what I gave

I'm not sorry I met you

I'm not sorry it's over

I'm not sorry there's nothing to save

Hydrate

On the journey towards health, I have often marveled at the wonder that is water. Sometimes all I need when I'm tired mid-day and feel like falling into bed for an extended nap is a glass of ice water. And when I'm cold deep down in my brisket, a couple cups of hot water fix me right up. When my post-lunch brain threatens to shut down, a sip or two from the water fountain next to the cafeteria can make all the difference!

I've also noticed that just as often as not, I substitute something else for water. In the morning, coffee. In the early afternoon, a frost DP. In the evening, apple cider. Now, according to Weight Watchers, any type of liquid counts for hydration purposes (other than alcohol); however, I know how much better my body feels when it gets the real water it needs.

Today, Cesar brought up this idea and pointed out that God in His wisdom and knowledge of our nature hides water in other things that are good for us. Fruits and vegetables, for example, are often 60-80% water and chock full of good stuff we need to be healthy. We may avoid drinking a glass of water but fully enjoy a juicy apple or some crunchy lettuce.

The spiritual applications are obvious. Jesus said that the water He gives (umm.... Himself? His Spirit) would be a spring of water welling up to eternal life. There is a thirst in my soul for this Water, and when I quench that thirst by spending time with Him, I find that eternal quality in my life. And I thought today as Cesar munched on an apple during his sermon that there are other good things in my life that help to quench the God-thirst. Franklin Hill, my small group, and Young Life are all places for me to serve and teach and give. I am edified and nourished and loved in ways that simply don't happen in other contexts.

But even as Cesar was making his point, I couldn't help but think of the time when I was training for the marathon and got dehydrated on a run. My body became ridiculously unable to do the simplest functions, like eliminate waste, all because I didn't drink enough water. I didn't need an orange at mile 15. I needed water. Just water.

In the lives of those of us who not only believe in Jesus but seek to follow Him, and serve Him by serving, leading, and teaching others, the need for straight Water becomes even greater. This type of spiritual training requires proper spiritual hydration. If we are gonna lead, we gotta follow Jesus personally and closely. Church, small group, and service all provide a different nutrient to our souls, but in the marathon of spiritual leadership, often we just need Water.

Jesus answered, "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." John 4:13-14

When you give Marah a cookie...

She'll probably eat more than one. And if she has skipped dinner, she'll definitely eat more than two....three....four.... is there any milk in the fridge? NO? Okay, then.... let's leave it at four. That's what happened tonight, and that's why I'm still awake at 9:57. I am, indeed, that sensitive to the enlivening effects of chocolate. And so, since I'm up, I'm gonna throw a few reflections on today out into the cosmic void.

My first thought is, freakin' A, I love my life. Even though I was sick the past four days and in the throws of some serious snotty nastiness, I am so aware of how much I love where I am and whom I'm with and what I'm doing. This morning I had coffee with Debbie Paganelli (she's Pagariffic!), and it is so beautiful to walk with her through life. She is so full of pizazz and humor and love. Just fill my heart right up she does! Then I had coffee with Richie Perez, whom I've known for 15 years. We were GREAT friends in high school, and now he's working at Davis, and he loves kids, loves Jesus, and is considering being a Young Life Leader with me and Susie. I really hope that works out, but even if it doesn't, it is so great to have people like him around.

Then I got to chat with Kjell, a fellow English teacher and Boomerang Coach whom I've known for seven years. She's nationally certified, so we got to chat about tons of great ideas as I start on the National Board Certification process. While I am still a bit bewildered by the whole thing at times, I'm excited to be so purposeful in reflecting on my teaching and potentially to be rewarded quite well for that time and reflection. Can we say 2012 trip to Europe?

Then I worked out. I am so grateful to be in a healthy space with my body image and food issues. By the grace of God and the accountability of a great friend, I'm making better choices and have a healthier perspective on food and activity than I've had in a long while.

And then I putzed about the house while The Return of the King played in the background. I haven't watched that movie in a while, but I'm glad I did today. So many resonating themes. There are battles that need fighting. Robed in glorious white, I'm standing right where God has placed me, defending the harvest from the coordinated attack of the enemy. I am no man. Nor need I be. Kazah!

And then Helen came over. She's a new Young Life kid this year, and I think she's my little sister from another mister. We made banana bread and chocolate chip cookies and watched Up. Such a sweet film, and such a sweet girl. Then the Young Lifers arrived. We were small in number this week (I'm blaming it on not having school today) but there was still LOTS of laughter. I don't know where this whole Young Life thing is going, but I know this is a good thing for this season. I've been asked to go on Summer Assignment in July, which means that more than a month of my summer will be spent at Washington Family Ranch. I'm not sure how I'll cope without seeing my little people for that amount of time, but I'm excited nonetheless.

And I'm really thankful for the passage of time and the healing that has come the past couple weeks. October was not easy. But I think I can say, with thanksgiving and hope in my heart, that my feet are back under me, which is interesting because I didn't realize at the time that they had been swept from me. What I sense more now is the traction in my life -- moving forward in what God has given me. And that, my friends, is so good.

love to you (because I'm assuming if you're reading this, you know me) -- marah jean

Ending chapters...

I sometimes wish I could pull an Emma Dinsmore on my life. She would always read the last chapter of a book first so that she could decide whether or not to read the whole thing: "If I like the ending, I know I'll like getting there, whereas if I don't like the ending, I know not to waste my time."

But even as I sit here, pondering the quote I just pulled from memory (what is it with me and random movie quotes??), I wish to retract that wish. Just because I don't like how a story ends doesn't mean the journey to that end was without value, merit, adventure, and love. Of course I would like every story to end with the destruction of the Ring, the ultimate defeat of the enemy, the coronation of the rightful king, and the joining of the two long-separated lovers, but that isn't life. Well, it is life in the BROADEST sense because Jesus is going to ultimately conquer death when he returns and is crowned and we are joined with Him for eternity. Pause for a moment and let's just GLORY in that! THAT is the dominant story line of life, and because of that, I can have lots of hope when, in times like right now, the subplots aren't tying up with happy bows.

I'm in a season of ending subplots, the most permanent of which is my grandmother's passing. And I'm walking through the cognitive and emotional paradox of the situation: though it is right and good for my Gramma to be with Jesus now, it still hurts. Though I am glad she isn't in anymore physical pain and that she'll get a new body someday, I still ache. I guess it just takes time for one's heart to catch up with one's head.

The dissonance of that paradox is also echoing in the professional and personal chapters that are also closing during this time. After five years with the Boomerang Project, I won't be coaching this spring. The work itself I won't particularly miss, but the people.... oh, my soul loves them, longs to see them, aches already knowing I will miss them. I know God has His protective and providing hand on my life, but saying good-bye still hurts. He has promised good things to those who love and obey him, but, still, I'm experiencing some ouchies.

And, you know what, it's okay. Even though I am currently experiencing the pain of the less-than-happy elements in the "ends" of these subplots, I would still have chosen to read them. The pain of the ending has not diminished the value, merit, adventure, or love I have experienced in them. And I take encouragement and hope from the fact that Jesus and I are moving forward together and that all things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose.

My life.... definitely worth the read.

Loss

I'm not usually one to ascribe to Murphy's Law. I'm not usually a glass-half-empty gal. I'm not usually overshadowed by gray gloomy clouds. But today wasn't a usual day. It seems that all of the pain and loss of the last month have made alliances with one another, and they are now descending upon me en masse. I was cognitively aware of all the various losses yesterday, but today the emotions kicked in.

I hate that my grandma is dead and my grandpa is alone. I hate that one of my most favorite students got in a car accident and is now in a coma in Seattle. I hate that I probably won't be coaching for Link Crew this year, which basically means goodbye to that whole group of people that has been so pivotal in my life. I hate that the loss of the CRP still hurts so badly. I hate that I won't get to spend as much time with my friends in Calgary as I would like.

And so this afternoon I'm faced with what to do with all of this. I feel like a burden to others when I'm like this... mascara running, nose running, thoughts running. Oi. I usually am quite good at reframing days like today and lifting my eyes to the hills from whence comes my help. But I'm wondering if it might not be a bit more helpful to just let myself feel this for a bit.

...okay, get this..... Just as I typed that 30 minutes ago, Rissa came downstairs to change the laundry. I love the random provision of God that brought the friend, the compassion, and the hug I so desperately need right now.

And I love her wisdom: with grief coming at me from so many angles, distraction techniques aren't all bad. There's only so long one can look these things full in the face. So I'm gonna wash my face and head to the Y for step aerobics, hopefully have a long chat with a dear friend tonight, go on a road trip with Susie to see Colby tomorrow.

And, in a truly poetic life element, "Details in the Fabric" by Jason Mraz was playing while all this was being typed...

Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around
And pulling all your threads saying
Breaking yourself up

If it's a broken part, replace it
But, if it's a broken arm then brace it
If it's a broken heart then face it

And hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
And everything will be fine
Everything will be fine

Hang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I'm doing everything

Cake Inspired Thoughts

One of the things I love about teaching at Davis is the brilliance of my coworkers, particularly the ones in the English Department. We've got actors (ones who've been in real movies, not just the movies on public access cable), published authors, and classical composers. One of these gems teaches two doors down from me, and I love the randomness of our interactions. Sometimes we just holler at each other... "COOPER!!" "TRAUB!" Sometimes he brings in culinary delights... pumpkin scones, cupcakes, and this year's favorite: apple-pear cheesecake, made from scratch. Oh baby. And sometimes, he brings by copies of his newly written poetry. He wrote one a month ago that I found yesterday as I was organizing my desk.

I'm a baker by hobby.
I have this kick-ass cake recipe
That is made up of the usual dry ingredients
And then nothing but whipped cream.
The tricky part is folding the dry ingredients into the whipped cream
Gently enough, slowly enough, knowing when
Enough is enough.
White on white. Dry on wet.
Oddly, it works
Like mixing cement for a post-hole:
Without much effort, the ingredients blend
And hold.

I trust that my spirit is like that--
All the unresolveds, the irreconcilables
Sit on the surface and then, later
After you've not thought about them awhile
They are still unresolved, but mixed in
A part of you
And it's okay -- not it's not okay,
It has become fertile ground for wisdom.

The poem continues, but that part just stops me every time. I love the prosaic first stanza, the pluralization of the adjective unresolved, the fact that it starts with cake. But most of all, I love the hope it offers, the hope that the things that sit on my life-- that are in it but don't quite fit in it-- that those things will get worked in somehow. While I am an advocate of self-awareness, there are some things that I simply can't perceive right away; it takes some time to see the lines, to learn the lessons.

The last season of my life has been challenging, with ministry stuff and relationship stuff and health stuff. And while I always want to be open to receive fresh insight about old things, I also feel like God has given some wisdom in the last few weeks: clearer directions about vocation and calling, clearer perceptions of what resonates within my own heart, clearer invitations towards Him and away from the things that I would use to replace Him.

Some of the unresolveds are mixing in, and the blend of circumstance and Providence is looking less like a confusing smattering of ingredients and more like a sweet something that can be tasted and seen as evidence that the Lord is good. It might not be all frosted and decorated just yet, but it's ridiculously good nonetheless.

Let's hear it for cake.

Hoodies, pillows, and my big red couch

I love fall. I love the coziness of it... the glorious, crisp mornings and evenings that make me head to the closet for a fuzzy hoody sweatshirt. I'm a walking billboard for all manner of things these days: Leadership Staff, Oregon State, Evergreen Girls State, Breakaway Lodge, Pirate Baseball. I even have a red one with Mickey Mouse's face floating on it. I like the snuggliness of them, the way I am dwarfed by them.

My giraffe pillow and big red couch make me feel the same way. Lori made me the pillow for my birthday, and I bought the couches two years ago in a flurry of "I'm a grown-up now! I shall have non-collegiate furniture." Again, it's the snuggliness that gets me. I'm a sucker for a good snuggle.

It's the same feeling I get when my brother lets me really hug him or when Bennett says he wants to sit by me or when Erin stands by my side and expectantly says, "Up!" There's something about being held (or doing the holding) that quiets me. And, along these lines, the Life Journal reading for today was Psalm 130, but it was a short one so I kept reading through Psalm 131:

Lord, my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty.
I don't concern myself with matters too great for me.
But I have stilled and quieted myself, just as a small child is quiet with its mother.
Yes, like a small child is my soul within me.

It made me think of holding Erin when she and I are focused on the same thing. We just sit there, but she leans into me. Such trust and love and peace, and I'm not even her mom!

But this psalm isn't just about quietness and peace; it is also a recognition of limitations and declaration of choice: "I have stilled and quieted myself." In the midst of life's big challenges, both external and internal, I choose to slow down.... stop.... reframe.... breathe....

This psalm is perfectly timed for me today. There are matters in my life right now that are too great for me... big picture/trajectory stuff about which I have some strong opinions and preferences... ministry stuff... relationship stuff... career stuff...

And this morning I choose to crawl up on my Papa's lap and say, "I don't 'got this.' This is too big for me. And so, in light of Your enduring love and faithfulness, Your promises that have been thoroughly tested, and Your invitation to trust, I choose to still and quiet myself. I may not get what I want, but Your presence is more important than all of that. I want to stay with You through each season, each radar blip, each bend in the road, and I choose to follow You, not my own way or wisdom."

The embrace of God.... that's pretty damn cozy.

By heart....

My friend Anne preached at Franklin Hill last week. A former fundamentalist turned female pastor who says "kick ass" from the pulpit, she is so great! While the whole teaching was packed with solid theology and pointed challenge, she used one particular phrase that has been rolling in my head and heart all week. Anne said that part of Israel's problem was that they began to think that what God wanted them to do was ascribe to a set of beliefs and practices instead of learning to know Him by heart.

That's the phrase.... to know God by heart. It's like a parfait, that phrase. Layer after intriguing layer has been unfolding in my soul this week.

The most obvious layer is the one Anne certainly intended: that God desires us to know Him at a heart level. Throughout history, God has been revealing Himself to humanity. His wildly passionately good heart whispers at twilight and shouts in thunder. He wants us to understand His incredible love for us so that when circumstances seem to indicate His lack of proximity and care, we can reinterpret them accurately because we know His heart. When we know God's heart, we can discover the roots of a particular attitude or belief and identify them as True because they line up with His heart or as (insert shrill German lady voice here) "Lies! All lies!" because they do not align with His heart. This layer, in and of itself, is so encouraging and challenging!!

But then I thought of the other way to know thing by heart: memorization and recitation. I know lots of things by heart: The Star Spangled Banner, the first 45 minutes of Robin Hood, my parents' phone number, sections of Goonies and sections of John. I know these things by heart because I've encountered them so often. But this kind of knowing doesn't necessarily indicate I've given much true consideration to the meaning of these things.

It reminded me of Friar Laurence's chastisement of Romeo's infatuation for Rosaline: "Thy love did read by rote that could not spell." Yeah Romeo "loved" Rosaline but he was just "reciting" what he thought love should be. He didn't really know her, so he couldn't really love her. I've done that with God. Having grown up in church, I know how my "love" for God is supposed to look, but I didn't really know Him. Could I then really love Him? How glad am I that God is a pursuer and didn't leave me in my mimicking.

I'm thinking living the "Christian life" is like memorizing poetry. If I haven't taken the time to figure out what the poem actually means, my recitation might sound good, but it is actually hollow and meaningless. However, if I've spent some time with the poem, gazed at its angles and texture, grappled with its imagery and implications, then and only then do the words I speak have true meaning. Others might be impressed by either, but I can only communicate with the latter.

Isn't the same true for how I live? Others might be impressed by my life, but if all the exterior doesn't come from a heart that knows and loves God, then it doesn't mean a whole lot.... not really. But if I'm learning to know Him more, then my life is what I want it to be: a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to Him.

What a heart He has... one that pursues and invites and corrects and comforts. This love of His is a poem worth memorizing...

John & Sam

I've been spending time recently in the Gospel of John. I think this might be my favorite of the four Gospels for so many reasons: his use of the light/dark motif, his blending of Hebrew and Greek ideas, the fact that one of my clearest memories of God opening up His truth to me during individual study was whilst I was reading John 1.

But I'm not in the happy part of John right now; I'm in John 18 and 19, the account of Jesus' betrayal, arrest, and trial. I didn't read much because I got sidetracked after chapter 19 verses 12-16:

The Pilate tried to release him, but the Jewish leaders shouted, "If you release this man, you are no 'friend of Caesar.' Anyone who declares himself a king is a rebel against Caesar."
When they said this, Pilate brought Jesus out to them again....and said to the people "Look, here is your king!"
"Away with him" they yelled. "Away with him! Crucify him!"
"What? Crucify your king?" Pilate asked.
"We have no king but Caesar," the leading priests shouted back.
Then Pilate turned Jesus over to them to be crucified.

Okay, so I know these guys were royally pissed at Jesus for claiming to be God's Son, the epitome of blasphemy and heresy. But "We have no king but Caesar"? Caesar? Really guys? This distant pagan whose rule was typified by violence and war? The man whose empire squashed the Jewish people? You chose him over a man who preached the real and present Kingdom of God?

Then what came to mind was an event that happened 1000 years before hand, recorded in 1 Samuel 8. Samuel is aging, his sons aren't leading with integrity, so the leaders of Israel ask Samuel to give them a king so they can be like all the other nations. Sam is upset, goes to God, and God tells him to give them what they want; "It is me they are rejecting," God explains to Sam. "They don't want me to be their king any longer."

Is it presumptuous to think I can feel empathy towards God? But ouch!! Here is this group of people that He freed, protected, provisioned, empowered, guided, and loved for generations, and they are now saying, "It isn't enough to have a King we can't see, a King we have to take on faith. God, you aren't enough for us anymore."

I doubt they had any clue that their descendants would do more than reject God's leadership by actually screaming for His death, but it boggles my mind to think that the deep root of Jesus' crucifixion was the Israelites' insistence of having a person step into God's role. "We have no king but Caesar" started with "Give us a king so we can be like other nations."

How easy it is to sit here in 2009 and pass judgment on these people. But aren't I just as prone to this kind of insistence? Aren't I just as tempted to doubt His desire and ability to free me, protect me, provide for me, empower me, guide me, and love me? Isn't it just as difficult for me to move forward with a God/Friend/Love that I can't see as it was for them to do what they needed to do without a physical king?

Yeah -- I see it in my heart. It lurks there -- this desire to supplant the intangible God with a finite being that I can at least see and touch. My prayer this morning is that, for today, I would have the faith and courage to let God be what He wants to be in my heart and thus receive the blessing of being one of those who has not seen and still believes (John 20:29).