Leaves are Falling, Seasons are Flying

This past weekend we played in the Regional volleyball tournament in Michigan. We took third place, which means I won't be soaking sun in Florida for Nationals...lol. But it was a great wrap up to a particularly great season.

We finished with a record of something like 22-6, and claimed a number of those W's from talented teams that deemed us underdogs. We were a team of eleven girls whose tallest player was characteristic of the shortest on some teams. We started the year with a new coach and team, curiously filled with expectations. As a family we were pushed physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Never have I experienced such a rapid, but genuine, knitting together of lives.

These people quickly became so valuable to me. As cliche as it sounds, we shared blood, sweat, and tears. We moaned together while stretching after lunges, rubbed our eyes as we loaded the bus for tournaments, and shared everything from shampoo to clothes to deodorant. We pushed and challenged each other. We compared bruises and blisters, and bottles of pain killer.

We learned how to juggle sports, school, work, and life; and perhaps more importantly how to admit that sometimes we just can't do it all. This season, volleyball was more than a sport for me. I've never experienced such community with athletics. We shared life not because we had to, but because we wanted to. I was free to encourage and be encouraged. It became a season of refining strengths instead of learning weaknesses. Beyond developing physical skill, it included character development. We failed, fought, and succeeded together. We laughed, cried, prayed, sang, and danced as a team.

I'll most remember eating at Red Robin; playing a game where we all hold hands under the table and flip a coin to see who can grab a ketchup bottle the quickest. I won't forget eating at Culver's discussing whether you "chuck" or "chunk" a ball. I hope I always remember the Grace Bible Tournament where a coach scouted our team, taking vigorous notes for two whole games on me, and other non-starters; only to find out he'd wasted an hour (and a lot of ink) because the girls his team would face were on our bench that day, hahaha! I'll remember when Rachel lost her toenail, and Katie lost her 'finger-tube'. I won't forget warming up each game with Megan Curtiss. I'll most remember when Hannah came back to the bench and missed her chair completely, lol. And I can't forget movie night when coach came flying on his stomach, on a rolling desk chair, and kicked a cup of apple cider out of my hand! Honestly, I could go on and on because this has really been a scrapbook worthy season, and I'm sure it will build it's own camp on my memory lane.

As it's all said and done, I'm so thankful to have been a part of it. Through nearly sleepless nights and road trips marked by carsickness, I take away from the experience much more than I could count as lost. I'm reminded of how lucky I am to be surrounded with people to love and be loved by. Here's to a season marked by surprises galore!


Moody Volleyball 2010: "We provide the effort, God provides the results".

More Coffee Shop Ramblings

While in Chicago I've gotten the chance to continue serving coffee at a busy downtown Cafe. Though the line is usually as long as those at popular amusement parks, there is one gentleman who comes every Tuesday and Thursday for a small coffee and for more reason than one he has become a favorite of mine. I recently learned his name and a bit of his story, and he has since learned mine as well. Earlier this week however, he unintentionally challenged me in a way that only a friendly acquaintance could.

I was surprised but blessed when he sat across from me, after respectfully receiving permission, while I was enjoying a bagel and tea on my break. He had a genuine yet un-intrusive interest in sharing life with people as he'd just moved to the city. In his hands he held a bible, so I deemed "Where do you go to church?" as appropriate small talk. I was curious when he responded with "Moody Church" and continued to question. He then asked me to share about some of the churches I'd visited in Chicago and where I go now. I first asked if he's heard of "New Life Church" as there are about 12 throughout Chicago. He responded with a no. We exchanged for a bit about Spanish-speaking services and then I began to share my Soul City experience. I was joyfully diving into how unique it is to be part of a church plant when he interrupted to say "I'm sorry, I should've prefaced this conversation by saying I've only been Christian for about 7 months"; he paused to chuckle and went on saying, "So I'm not sure what New Life Church is, or what a church plant or launch is".

Whoa.

So (smiling, and wanting to eek that we'd been blessed to connect) I sincerely apologized and explained; clearing things as much as I could and pausing to answer any question.

But Whoa...

I couldn't help but stare into the mirror he'd metaphorically held up in front of my nose. How do I come off? What do I assume? How do my assumptions change the way I treat and talk to people? Have I gotten so used to the Christian bubble that I've become a snob? Had he exposed pride? Is my history transparent enough to be welcoming? Have I so quickly forgotten where I came from?

It was an honest mistake, but I don't believe my words are ultimately excusable. I don't wish for the things I say or the way I say them to make someone feel inferior. I'm forced to reassess whether I am sharing things in a way that suggests I'd like a pat on the back, or merely because my heart is bursting with urgency to invite others to join me. I know the words I speak come from the heart (Matthew 15:18) and so I'd be a fool to not address factors beyond the surface.

I'm to follow the example of Christ. I better get off my high horse and find a donkey!

Untitled

There is a man who frequents the coffee shop I worked at in Eau Claire. For the sake of privacy, I'll refer to him as Pete.

One Saturday this past summer Pete came in and I didn't have to ask if his heart was heavy, because his eyes said it all. As an attempt to distract, I offered his usual. While he solemnly nodded his head - biting his lip as he forced a smile - I whispered asking God for the strength to meet him in the middle of his pain. As I made his sandwich he reminded me of the fact that he stops by to get a bite to eat on his way to the cemetery, to see his wife's grave, (who passed three years ago). Acknowledging that I heard him, I thanked him for choosing to come; chuckling in agreement that he wasn't going to find a better lunch in town. While his sandwich cooked, I came back around the counter to hand him a drink when he asked if I'd like to see a picture of his wife... I readily agreed.

Pete came back from his car, slowly - (he's almost 90 after all); and as he set her picture on the counter, the wrinkles on his face became a sort of pinball course for the tears wetting the collar of his shirt. Attempting to offer comfort, I asked where he met such a beautiful gal. His face lit up and his eyes seemed to enter a past realm as he vividly described the way he had come back from war and saw her dancing at a school dance. He reminisced about the way he confidently looked her in the eye and said "you know, I'm guna' marry you"... going on to say "and two years later, she said yes"! He laughed, sighed, and cried as he reminisced some of the moments they'd shared.

I share this story today because I didn't realize then what I was learning. I was merely a listener; yet my ears offered consoling that I can't explain. This semester has been one in which so many of the relationships in my life have been marked by trying situations; people I walk with daily are seemingly battling the weight of life. In the midst of this, I'm learning the value of meeting them in their muck. I'm realizing the importance of simply sharing life as Romans 12* paints it. I have less answers to offer, but a softened heart. I can't promise to take away all their hurt, fear, or trials - but I can share with them the love of my Jesus. As I rediscover the power of a person's story, I'm embracing the intimacy that comes with transparency and displacement. I'm reminded this season that I have but scratched the surface in living the truth that it's simply not about me.




*Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep. 16 Live in harmony with each other. Don’t be too proud to enjoy the company of ordinary people. And don’t think you know it all!" -Romans 12:15-16 (NLT)

Waiting or Walking, part 1

This entire entry is from the blog of my new church (Soul City!) :). Here's the link to the actual post: http://soulcityblog.com/opening-doors/. I've appropriately titled this blog as "part 1", because I plan to give my two cents at a later time. But enjoy the words of Jeanne Stevens for today!



Jesus Heals a Paralytic
“A few days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had come home. So many gathered that there was no room left, not even
outside the door, and he preached the word to them. Some men came, bringing to him a paralytic, carried by four of them. Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus and, after digging through it, lowered the mat the paralyzed man was lying on. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”
Mark 2:1 – 4

"I love this story for many reasons; of course anytime Jesus heals someone it reminds me of his miraculous touch and his desire to bring peace to the afflicted. I also love that it’s only Chapter 2 of the Gospel of Mark and Jesus is drawing the kinds of crowds from his teaching that create a standing room only situation. But I think what I love most about this story is the 4 men of faith that carried their friend on a mat to see Jesus. It didn’t matter to them that there was a huge crowd, it didn’t matter to them that Jesus was in the middle of teaching the word It didn’t matter what the potential outcome of the interaction would be with Jesus – they had no guarantee that their friend would be healed. It didn’t matter to them that there was no way in to see Jesus – they decided to create one.

These four men of faith decided not to wait for an open door opportunity – instead they decided to create an open door – in the roof. They loved their friend and they had a holy determination that their friend needed to see Jesus.
I can picture Jesus preaching and all of a sudden in the middle of a great story he is telling or a point that he is trying to drive home a skylight is created in the roof and down comes a man. I can imagine Jesus looking up at the 4 guys holding the 4 ropes while their friend lay on a mat and beaming over their gutsy and unconventional faith that pushed them to create an open door opportunity for their friend to be healed.

I want that kind of determination in my faith. I want the kind of raw gutsy belief that would cause me to climb on top of a building and cut a hole in it – just so my friend could see Jesus.

I want to be daring instead of waiting around making excuses as to why it’s not a good time for me to step out in faith.

I have come to believe that praying for open doors is a cheap way of asking God to take away the pain of what it means to walk by faith. Being hopeful of what we can’t see is sometimes just plain terrifying – but it can also be delightful."

Recent Readings

Two, (completely unrelated), snippets of things I've been reading lately. Happy Sunday, enjoy!

"So the Lord must wait for you to come to him
so he can show you his love and compassion.
For the Lord is a faithful God.
Blessed are those who wait for his help.

O people of Zion, who live in Jerusalem,
you will weep no more.
He will be gracious if you ask for help.
He will surely respond to the sound of your cries.
Though the Lord gave you adversity for good
and suffering for drink,
he will still be with you to teach you.
You will see your teacher with your own eyes.
Your own ears will hear him.
Right behind you a voice will say,
"This is the way you should go,"
whether to the right or to the left.
Then you will destroy all your silver idols
and your precious gold images.
You will throw them out like filthy rags,
saying to them, "Good riddance!""
-Isaiah 30: 18-22 (NLT, emphasis added)


"...The other problem with real life is it’s hard to tell whether or not you are the bad guy. We all believe we are the good guy or that our words and actions are justified. The other day I lost my temper at a stranger. I really let them have it. I still feel like they deserved it. It was a bully situation in which somebody was being threatened. But I went too far, honestly. I pretty much said things that person will be thinking about for years. I went for the jugular and put him in his place. Or perhaps it went in one ear and out the other, I don’t know. But regardless, I was thinking about that today, and realized that the things I said could be placed word for word into a film in which the character that said it got “what they deserved” at the end and nobody would really care. Stink. Can’t believe I said those things.

The point is, story can teach us something about what we should and shouldn’t say or do. Before you unload on your spouse or kids, ask yourself if a character in a movie treated their wife or husband the way you are about to treat your wife or husband, would they be the good guy or the bad guy? Story can help us step outside ourselves and see a dynamic with more wisdom.

The sad truth is, good guys often get taken advantage of. When I lose my temper, it’s usually because I don’t want to get taken advantage of, I don’t want to be disrespected. I’ve stepped into a game in which people are keeping score, and I’m determined not to lose. But the truth is, there is no game, it’s just a hoax, and the only way to show others there is no game is to lose and show how much it didn’t matter. Perhaps that’s why Jesus asks us to turn the other cheek, to give our shirt to somebody who asks for our coat and so forth. He wants us to show people we aren’t playing their game."
-Donald Miller