Pinterest, Facebook, and Affirmative Action

I’m sitting in the Student Union doing research for a persuasive speech about banning Affirmative Action in college admissions that’s due next week, not because I’m on top of my work, but because it’s the only work I have. With finals less than two weeks away I can feel the stress building from the work I’ll have this time next week. So, for now I kill time researching Pinterest, my Facebook friends and Affirmative Action.

As I finally buckle down on this speech I find myself staring at a blank word document and a sudden belief in reverse discrimination. The smell of Panda Express and the lack of feeling in my butt tells me I should quit working on this speech and come back to it tomorrow—just like yesterday and the day before. While I’m distracted by the taste of imaginary orange chicken in my mouth, I meet eyes with a guy listening intently to his peer. As the guy was Asian, I sort of assumed it was some type of language helping situation. That was until I realize what they’re discussing. In the hands on his peer is a little blue booklet, a booklet I’ve seen before.

When CRU made the videos of our stories for the campus to watch, they gave each of us three soul-saving pamphlets, intended for those who have questions about Jesus. I saw this a as a joke at the time. I was being brave enough wearing the same shirt for a week and posting my testimony about how God found me that I had no plans on sharing a pocket-sized picture book with some stranger. It was then when I realize the peer is a boy I’ve seen at CRU, a boy whose video I watched. He sits patiently explaining the pictures and story line and openly shares his story with the young man when he has questions arise.

For the first time all week I felt calm. I no longer was consumed with what stress will be on my shoulders next week or what I need to say to persuade my audience, but what beautiful work God had planned for that boy; what beautiful work he had planned for me. So until He tells me what that is, I guess I should get back to this speech.

Jesus didn't die for you

For as long as I can rememer I've been told about the love Jesus has for me. It's been ingrained in my head that Jesus died for my sins, that He knows how many hairs are on my head, how many freckles on my face, and what time I'll wake up tomorrow morning as well as every morning of my remaining waking days--all of which I don't know the answers to. For as long as I can remember I've been told that Jesus did all these things for me.
Yes, Jesus died for MY sins, He loves ME but I'm sure He love you also; you're sins are forgiven because of His sacrificial death and even though Jesus did these things for our sake, He first and foremost did them because it was the will of God; because God asked Him to take on the sins of the world, He did it in obedience of the Lord. Jesus was a human, just like me and you, who did what was asked of Him.
I am saved by the grace of God. I am loved by the creator of the sun and lightbulb, the designer of oceans and puddles, the maker of rocks and iPads. He loves ME!
All too often I only focus on what God has to offer me, but I am not a follower of Christ solely because of what He continues to do for me. My faith is not based around the fact that God, the one who breathes life into the trees, can do immeasurably more than we can ever ask or imagine. Why is it so easy for me to remember during tests or hardships that God is there for me, but when I'm sitting outside wrapped in the warmth of the sun I forget that He is the one who created that?
My relationship with God can be so much like going out to eat. I do it when there's no food at home, only when I have to. All I have to do is ask for the food and the server will make sure it's prepared for me, fill my drink when it's low and brings me the food, warm when it's ready. I can never leave a restaurant without tipping the server, but how many times does God provide for me and I give Him less than 20 percent gratuity?
I've been to the point in my faith for a while that I no longer have to ask WWJD because I know what He expects of me. Now, I've gotten to the point that I don't even care what Jesus would do because I'm too distracted by all the wonderful things God's allowing me do that will forever impact His Kingdom. Just as Jesus was obedient to God, we should be also. I'm sure none of you are being asked to be publically humiliated, beaten, and killed with the pressure of the world's salvation on your back, but as His followers, God's asking something of each and every one of us. I no longer think I have to drown myself in His grace, constantly trying to clean myself up for my Savior, but I am forever trying to repay Him. Seven times seventy times what He's given to me. So I submit myself, then to God; I reach out, I have those awkward, Christ-centered conversations, I allow myself to talk freely about what He's doing in my life. And in return, I'm handed broken stories, hurt hearts and eager ears that want to know about attention deficit joy. Yes, Jesus died for me, He loves ME! So, how can I just sit here and not let everyone know about this freedom that is only found in Christ?
"And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled awith the fruit of rightousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God."

Dependent

     As a child, I remember taking neighborhood walks with my dad. Hand-in-hand we roamed the streets where taught me to look left, right, and left one more time when crossing the street and always walked on the right side of me when on the sidewalk. That way if a car was veering over on the shoulder, they’d get him first. When leaving the park my dad would remind me of different things I need to be aware of when being outside, shortcuts I could take, safer paths home and what to do if ever I were in trouble. I soon turned into a Matilda; wandering the streets alone, knowing my way around the neighborhood and I felt safe because I was prepared. My dad equipped me to know the roads for my own.

     Now that I’m in college it’s easy to see how independent my parents have raised me. From making our own dinner to finding our own lost stuff my mother rarely coddled us. Even in high school there was little I needed my parents for; I knew the way around town and most of the surrounding cities and hardly ever left notes, texts or voicemails when I left, not that I was irresponsible, but because my parents trusted me and knew I was safe. They had raised me to be self-sufficient. It’s been two months since college has started and I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve called my parents to help me solve my problems down at school. Whether I am asking about financial funding or the belts on my car I’ve taken care of it myself.

     My independence has made my transition into college more than easy, physically and emotionally. Spiritually I feel myself growing weak. In our spiritual walks never is there a time that we should ever feel absolute dependence. If we are not consulting God with our moves how will we know they are the right ones? It’s easy for me to speak my mind and claim it what Jesus would do but hardly ever do I have that backed up by His word. It is our job as followers, not to run the opposite way into the world’s definition of freedom, but to lose yourself in his arms in the actual liberation of his grace and love for us. So as I grow more independent in the “real world” here on Madison in my Freddy dorm room, I pray to become more dependent on Christ and continue to hold his hand as we further my walk each and every day.

Puzzle pieces

     Everyday I'm reminded of different tragedies being faced here at school. Whether I'm being reminded of them by school faculty or seeing a clever poster around campus I am constantly reminded that everyone is experiencing, going through, something.
     Last night I played Never Have I Ever with some girls from my floor. The concept of the game is for everyone to start out with 10 fingers up and then each person goes around the room announcing something that they have never done and if you have done it you put a finger down. Whoever has any fingers left at the end wins. Of course people got just a little racy and I learned some things that I could have gone my whole life without knowing but luckily the confessions weren't anything too gut wrenching. One girl I met on my floor Grace has been a person I've been hanging out with lately. I didn't learn until last night that never has she ever owned a bible, she's agnostic. Most of the people put a finger down and complained about how that was cheating since they went to private schools or were raised catholic but I just silently put down a finger and sort of reflected on the signs I've seen Grace display that said she wasn't a Christian. Only her sailor's mouth came to mind, yet I can name lots of Christians who can't seem to, or choose not to, control their language. I became anxious to learn about how she got to this point and why. If you believe in nothing, that's still a belief and a hopeless one at that. As I was the only one not to complain about owning a bible I felt the eyes on me of people wondering why I wasn't upset about it. I ignored the pressure of the staring and carried on.
     Now, tonight at Cru we talked about how everything happens for a reason, how where we are right now is where God needs us if we're believers and if we're not He's placed nonbelievers in a place to find Him. God put Grace in the room across the hall for me to share His love with her, in any way.
     I've spent the majority of my time here at college waiting on some huge revelation from God to show me in some burning bush way what Holy Land He wants me to takea mass of His people or what illness I need to cure miraculously and I've forgot the little details. I've forgotten about the Grace's across the hall. I've gotten wrapped up in the thought of my riches in Heaven I was comparing myself to others rather than knowing God has me where He wants me and will move me when needed.
     I had a a friend freshman year who went to South that I really got to know at the Freshman Center who was a believer, but not quite a follower. We all knew each other went to church but never talked about it. The summer before sophomore year he was going through my iPod and saw Mighty To Save. It was a song that really shaped his life earlier that summer when God spoke to him. I remember being on Dakota Downey's trampoline at the dusk of a summer week night with Connor having his headphones in singing along to, "Shine your light and let the whole world see, we're singing for the glory of the risen King, my Jesus," with the biggest, most sincere smile of pure joy I had ever seen on Connor's face. Some people there laughed at him because they felt awkward about Connor so openly praising God but I remember how relieved I was knowing that God had finally spoken to him and almost guilty for not being the one who got him there. Luckily, God spoke to Connor, thankfully God got in his heart that summer and such a close friend of mine's salvation, or lack their of, didn't lie on my shoulders. But knowing that Grace doesn't know God kills me. Maybe it worked out with Connor, thankfully my out of tuneness with the Holy Spirit didn't ruin Connor's chances of eternal life, but now I know that Grace doesn't have God. Luckily, thankfully, for Connor God was able to find him without my help and I was still able to see the growth in him, but I don't want to be leaving Springfield in May finding out Grace is still living a blind-folded life lost in the world when I had all the equipment to lead her to Christ. Even on Grace's best day it doesn't even compare to my worst day with God. It sucks for all of those people who think they're enjoying life but they don't even know! Who will tell them if not for me? Maybe God wants me to lead a mass of his people to some Holy Land, maybe I am supposed to miraculously cure an illness. Or maybe Grace is, and maybe my part in that big picture story is being the one who leads her into salvation.

This past weekend I went home to ease the pain of my leaving for my parents and to see all of my friends since I've left for college. Coincidently, my father was celebrating his 19 years of sobriety. Obviously, he was sober for three months before I was born, but I've been alive to see the effects, positive effects.
Months before I was born, my parents were saved and started to attend a small church downtown. Soon after the extradordinary day of my birth, my dad lost his job. He began to grow weary and doubted if God was on his side or not, his pastor told him, practically dared him, to try to live his life without God and see how crappy things would get.
My parents would tell us the struggles they faced during my first few years of life, but they always reassured me of the plan God was sculpting through their struggles. I've always known my dad to be really good at one thing, if not anything else my dad is a Provider. So many times people have walked into our house looking for guidence only my dad could provide; whether it have been guidence with car trouble, directions, or life, my dad always had the answer, and if he didn't, he would provide a name that did. I've only known my dad as the man he is today, I've only known him since his growth in Christ; and because of that I've seen my dad sit at the kitchen talble taking phone call after phone call from customers because he's been blessed to own his own company, I've seen my dad talk on the porch for hours with guys fresh out of prison because he's been able to use his ugly past as a connection, I've seen my dad run to Las Vegas to pick up his sister-in-law and his nephew from a home they shouldn't have belonged to and offered up our own home when they had no place to stay because God has made him a provider. I remember my dad celebrating his 10 years of sobriety, his 15 years, but what I can't recall is his 6 months.
I think we often forget that whoever wants to become great amoung you must first become a servant, we forget that Rome wasn't built in a day. Before my father could celebrate his 19th year of sobriety he had to celebrate his first day, that even though it was a struggle to give up that lifestyle, I'm sure if you asked him today he'd tell you it was worth it.
My father's entire walk is longer than my lifespan, let alone my rebirth. Being in my first semester of college I'm waiting to start my big, huge story, not just be apart of one. But I must remember the liberation of that first day, not be told of what greatness feels like but experience that for myself. As I grow in the relationships I have started now I know I can reach what God has planned for me in time, as long as I remember this walk is a step-by-step journey, not a mile-by-mile.

Listen here..

So to anybody who knows me in the least bit will be surprised when I state I participated in Missouri State's Sorority life recruitment. Yes, hold your laughter, but I thought it would be a great way to meet new people and make friends or fimiliar faces. If I felt God telling me to join a sisterhood on campus I would do what he was calling me to do, no matter how much I despised it.
Day 1 was split into two days and consisted of going to all six sorority houses and basically speed-dating individual girls to see if you clicked with them; every sorority girl swore the connection they have with a sorority sister is instant and deeper beyond explanation, but a majority of the time I felt like I was almost cheating on my best friends back home. We toured their houses and got a feel of what we were looking for in a sorority. Initially, there were houses right off I knew God wasn't calling me to, in fact He was calling me to run into the opposite direction. At the end of Day 1 we had to choose our top four houses. On Saturday, Day 2, we went back to our top four houses, providing that they wanted us back, and again, I wasn't feeling like God was speaking to me either way or clear enough to drop and with only one day left I felt like it wouldn't hurt to check out these houses a little deeper. At the end of Day 2 we would eliminate two more houses, leaving only two houses in the running to call our home, being that the next day was our last, I still had time to discern what God wanted me to do. So I went to Day 3.
Throughout my experience I'd asked multiple people to be praying for my decision to be the right one. A group of 100 plus girls sit in a room waiting to be called to make their vote of their favorite home and second best. A home of girls, sisters, that would have their back throughout their lifetime, not just their four years on campus. I walked into the big scary, closed-off decision room and sat next to a girl at a computer who was there to help me make my decsion in a salmon colored t-shirt, the MSU sign they were a sorority girl. It was then when I heard God's voice, the one that I had been pushing away to see all my options before my decsion but it couldn't be quieted any longer. God didn't want me there, I wasn't supposed to call these girls my sisters for life. Part of me was debating if I should just stick it out for the free t-shirt we got from the sorority that chose us on the following bid day but I knew I wasn't supposed to. I had silenced what God had been trying to tell me since the beginning that this wasn't where He wanted me. How hard it was for me to muster up the courage to tell this sorority girl I didn't want a part of her lifestyle, not because it wasn't of God, but becuase it wasn't of God's plan for me. In their sorority these girls have found their sisters for life, who they're supposed to be and gained a confidence in that. I already knew who I was or am becoming, and my sisters for life are my sisters in Christ. So I left, after telling a girl I wasn't supposed to be here I walked out upset I hurt her feelings but estatic I knew I made the decision God wanted me to.
*Later that same night* I was on Facebook when I remembered my friend from Mizzou said her friend from Mizzou has a friend at Missouri State that's struggling to find Christian girls to hang out with. I found out her name and added her as a friend. She knew who I was (or at least I was a friend of a friend's friend) and almost seemed relieved that I had added her for immediately she messaged me. Right then I knew that my sisterhood wasn't found within a chapter but in Christ. And as I go meet Chelsey now for coffee I know that my journey is right on track with His plan.

This Little Light Of Mine

Today my roommate and I attended church on our first Sunday at Missouri State University :) After signing up with some campus ministries we had both been recieving texts about certain churches to check out. As we drove through looking for the "contemporary college church" we ended up at a Methodist church. Right off the bat it was obvious that it wasn't the church we recieved the texts about for we were the youngest people there by a good 40 years. Immediately we were mobbed by old person after old person introducing themselves to us. Showing us pictures of their college-student-grandchilren and reminding us of the homemade sweet rolls in the kitchenette. I explained to my roommate that it wasn't too soon to ditch, we still had a bible study to sit through and the church service wasn't for another hour, but we decided to stay.
It wasn't until I was sitting in a pue in pants that weren't 100% cotton with presentably brushed hair that I realized I wasn't at Gateway. It would've been easy for me to close my mind off and think about what my little church was doing out in Blue Springs and how cool we are because we don't wear dry cleaned clothes or have stained glass windows. Then it hit me: the same God that was at Point 11 with me three weeks ago is the same God that is sitting in this pue with me. The same God that hangs out in Hall McCarter on Wednesday lives inside of these AARP members in the chapel here in Springfield. Not for a second have I felt away from home because I know that God is my home.
The pastor proceeded his message in about shining our light, that without the Holy Spirit there is no hope for light. He showed us a flashlight without batteries and obviously, the flashlight didn't work. No one wants a flashlight without batteries; it's useless; just as we are without the Holy Spirit. There is no point in living if we're not doing it for a reason, whatever that reason may be. I made my decision known how I want to live my life in November of 2006 at Woods Chapel Bible Fellowship when I was baptized and I wrote down on a banner "I'm all in" at camp in 2010 in Colorado and people know, people saw.
"Obviously, I am not trying to win the approval of people but of God, if pleasing people were my goal I would not be a servant of the Lord" BUT those people are visible reminders to my commitment and I'm not going to let some actual pants and brushed hair on Sunday mornings make me forget that. My race isn't over, there is no time for a break, I haven't won the prize so I continue to beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached I myself will not be disqualified.

"Finding" myself

Summer 2012 has been off to a great start; I haven't seen a morning before 10 AM and I've been able to find at least two good movies on Starz each day. Well, today I had to wake up at the ungodly hour of 8 AM, EIGHT! I knew I would never wake up this early on my own so I made sure to open all the blinds in my room and set multiple alarms. As I peeled off the sheets and pried open my eyes this morning, I tried to hide from the taunting sun as I fell into some clothes and drove to Hall McCarter an hour early for church.

A good friend of mine wanted me to go to a bible study with her; I agreed to it. My first thought for this was that there are plenty of things I want to prepare myself for before I go into my freshman year of college. There's lots left for me to learn and I want to be well equipped. As we read through 2 Corinthians 5 I realized that I'm not going to college to "find" myself (2 Cor 5:4). So many people go into college waiting for other people to tell them who they are, God has already told me who I am, at least who I need to be now. I'm two steps ahead; it's not about becoming who God has created me to be, it's about making room for what else He has planned for me to be.

There are tons of people who go into college wondering who am I, who am I supposed to be, why doesn't that girl like me, where's the party at? And there are plenty of cheesy quotes Maria Shriver and Dr. Seuss can give you about that, but all of these questions are irrelevant, because He will tell you who you are (Isaiah 30:21) but you must be prepared. No one will be there with me holding my hand reminding me it's Wednesday and I have to be at TPX at 7, my mother won't be loud on Sunday mornings telling me to put on a clean shirt, no I will have to remember on my own to clothe myself in love, kindness, and patience, as well as a clean shirt. The future holds change and change can be scary, but it can also be a good thing, I don't know how different things will be this fall but I do know who I am and what I am living for, and when I don't know where I'm supposed to be there will always be that voice behind me assuring my left or right turn. 

Sorry for the wait.

I know it's been awhile but I guess I've just sort of given up on posting on here. Few, if any, read these posts so I told myself I didn't have to get online and post things, I'll write them down elsewhere. Well, I didn't. To be honest I started this for the accountability and it's much more helpful to me to speak to an empty room than whisper to myself, let's hope I can get on here more. I don't want to stop writing, I may even want a future in it, but as of now, I couldn't tell you what that future withholds. College is two months away and I don't know what God has prepared for me. All I know is I'm going out there ready and waiting for His call. I'll be patient until then.

The beginning of the end

Lately I've been saturated with the constant reminder that nothing lasts forever. My high school career is coming to a close, I'm moving to a new place, my best friends aren't going to be there for me so tangibly. Trust me, world, I was acquainted with this whole notion when my gameboy broke in third grade. Everything breaks, you can't depend on anything outliving you, nothing in this world is going to make it out alive. And I'm okay with that.
In elementary school I can recall breaking a pair of jelly sandals that were clear with sparkles and had a heel filled with colored, plastic sea creatures swimming around in the water-like substance. I went through three pairs of those that summer. By the second pair I was reminded that they were cheap, but I could just buy another pair and remain stylish until school rolls back around. Eventually the blisters on my feet and the sore ankles I received from having twisting them so many times finally got to me and I stuck my toes into a pair of Sketchers for the remainder of that August.
All I ever wanted was to be able to wear those sparkly, jelly shoes, and for awhile I got away with it, until the ice baths and permanent dirt lines became too much for me. I had to simplify and do something that was totally socially unacceptable at that time--heck, at this time! Those Sketchers were hideous, but they outwore that summer and bled into the next. They allowed me to jump higher and run faster. They weren't very cute but they were the shoes I felt most comfortable in. I just had to break my feet to realize what would be best for me.
We read in the bible, and hear in the news even, how Israel is repeatedly on God's bad side. They do something their own way and God has to dig them out of themselves and come save them. He breaks his legs to bring them back.
It's easy to examine a country and point out their flaws but I know I find myself doing the same thing. I try to do things my way and I ignore God the first time when He tells me no, this isn't the right way. I hear Him the second time but I continue wearing those adorable sparkly, jelly shoes; it's not until He breaks my legs and says I told you so when I actually listen to Him. I don't know what part of my humanity that keeps allowing this to happen but it's time for that to be chiseled out. If I'm constantly having to be reminded of God's will, His good, pleasing and perfect will for my life, I'm never going to be able to get anything done! So today, I surrender my adorable sparkly, jelly shoes and I'll wear those grotesque Sketchers until I'm mature enough to jump higher on my own.

The Parts of Speech

     I'm one of those people who corrects people when they use the wrong tense of words or grammar. I know, it's a curse and extremely annoying for me and everyone around me. I was on the phone with a friend the other day when she was telling me about her Friday night. She mentioned that something "kinda" happened and it wasn't "really" anything big but she "sorta" didn't know what to do. She never actually said what she had done but by her context clues I could take the hint.
     It's true that sin doesn't become real until you say it. So often we try to water-down our behavior by adding in words that don't even exist to make something that you did sound less terrible. Instead of admitting you stole a pack of gum from the store you might say you may have taken a stick of gum while walking out of Walmart. Oh, so that's not bad; you only sort of hit a guy with a knife, but he made you angry. That doesn't change the fact the man is now dead. Constantly, myself included, admit to things we have done only to subconsciously feel better about it to those around us who we know won't judge us too harshly for our actions but dare not say them around those who we know will unveil us for whom we truly are. I mess up, I make mistakes, and I'd hope I'm not the only one who can admit that. But all of that dirtiness is brought to the surface once we actually say it, but all of it is suddenly wiped away once we repent.
     That's the funny thing about sin, it doesn't matter how you say it or whom you admit that sin to, it's still real and unmistakably faulty if you don't clean that slate and start fresh by letting it go. You'll begin to be molded once you let go of who you are and allow who you're supposed to be take place.

Life Isn't A Diet.

     Today I woke up in second hour. My brain hadn't officially turned on until I walked into class partly because it's Friday and partly because well, it's Friday. I was ready to rush through my day when I heard that our student council was having senate exchange. Well the lights turned off in my second hour as a movie began and again I went back into sleep mode. While I was supposed to be watching the movie I remembered Camp Barnabas, for a large amount of the people I knew from Barnabas went to the school that had came over for this senate exchange. I ran through my thoughts as I remembered most of those barnstormers had graduated. Oh well. The lights turned on in second hour as the clip ended and I turned to my right and saw a familiar face, sort of. I knew this kid, he went to Barnabas with me. Suddenly all of my thoughts of my most life shattering moment came back. Camp Barnabas was one of the biggest impressions on my short life.
     So many of us try to treat our Christianity as a diet. Barnabas molded me in such a short time and helped shape who I am today. And I treated it like an intense workout on the path of my spiritual walk. Our walk with Christ is a lifestyle choice. Barnabas put me in the best spiritual shape I had been on in a long time and lasted longer throughout a lifestyle. As I left for second hour I thought, "I have to get back." I didn't know exactly where or what exactly I meant but I've been asking where God wants me this summer before I go off to college, and that's where. I have to go back.