It was the first night all semester I walked to class alone...and it felt weird. As usual, the family had enjoyed a fine dining experience at Saga. Only this night, it was just Eric, Anna, and me. Our usual companions, Drew and Dylan, didn't make it that night. Drew was busy working on his paper. So Anna and I made a couple of sandwiches for him, wrapped them up in napkins and loaded them into my book bag and off I went to class.
Upon arrival, I saw a few of my classmates gathered outside of the classroom. Some were eating their dinner. Others were just visiting with each other. This was a little strange because most weeks when I arrived no one was in the hall and the classroom was abuzz with the chatter of the early arrivals. It was when I saw them standing there that I knew something was up. The door to our classroom was wrapped like a package, a foreshadowing of the gift that was to come.
As classmates continued to gather, the volume grew as the numbers of people did. For most of the semester I've attached myself to a precious young man, Drew. He has been encouraging. Shared his wisdom with me. Laughed with me. Listened when I was struggling with something as we walked to class. Even helped me avert tears at times. We've talked about his dating life. His theology. The Bible. The famous Boa Family Sandwich. And all sorts of random bits of information. It's been a real joy to get to know him in the context of this class.
But one of the costs of that was that I didn't interact much with other people in the class. Now I wouldn't change a thing! My friendship with Drew is precious to me, and something I'm delighted I invested in. But the result has been that I don't always have someone to hang with during these spontaneous hang outs. So I float a bit. It's all good, just a little uncomfortable for a Relator who craves those deep conversations over endless small talk.
After we had tracked down a couple of classmates who were running late, the door was opened and in we went. And it was magical! The harsh fluorescent lights were off and the room was filled with the soft light from lamps, the sparkle of Christmas lights, and the warmth of a video fire. We could even hear the crackle of the logs. The chairs were arranged in a circle with the ever-present Jesus candle in the center. A table of goodies had been laid out just like the banquet at the wedding feast. The room was set up to celebrate!
As we settled into our seats, I found myself seated between two people I hadn't really interacted with much throughout the course. Kyle and Reuben. Kyle has always impressed me as a real intellectual. But he has this fun whimsical side too. He loves movies and music and consumes them voraciously, tracking his favorites and his reviews on a blog he maintains. And Reuben is charming with his beautiful accent. I'll tell you more about that later.
Dan opened by simply sharing with us his thoughts about the semester. He answered some questions we had provided. Some with humor, others with stories, and the first with a list of his favorite books for believers. I'm sad to say I haven't read a single one of them. Better get busy! Once again, he demonstrated what we had been learning in the class, that the teacher is part of the learning. That their experience, world views, passions, can't help but become part of the learning process. His willingness to share bits of himself did so much to make this a beautiful experience for me.
We took a moment to enjoy some of the bounty Dan and his boys had provided, including some fresh baked pumpkin bread his youngest son had made for us. Precious! After a bit of mingling, we settled back into our seats. Remember the lights were low. The room was filled with a sense of peace and just a touch of nostalgia that this would be our last night together. As we got ready for the next portion of our evening, some people found spots on the floor. Others stayed in our seats. And then Dan started us off.
As voices filled the room, we were all transported to another time. Reading the Gospel of Mark as a class was breathtaking for me. Hearing God's Word read corporately almost always moves me to see it in a way that I hadn't before. To see patterns. To hear the words afresh. To notice things in stories I hadn't noticed before. And to hear all of the voices of my classmates was dear to me. Now back to Reuben. I could literally listen to that man read the phone book. But to hear his melodic voice, his grasp of how to use tone and volume, and to think that English wasn't his first language, I was captivated. He read with such authority and care and I was deeply impacted by the words he spoke. What a gift.
After 90 minutes and reading the first 11 chapters, Dan encouraged us to finish that evening at home because he wanted us to have some time to share. So we gathered back in our circle. And we took a moment to share what we had taken from the course. It was a precious time of acknowledging the learning each of us had experienced. It was a time to learn more about each other. It was a time to learn through the experiences of others.
For me, it was a time to reflect on this great adventure I've started. An adventure of doing something I've never been particularly good at. Something I was really terrified to do. Something I could not have done alone. From my husband's belief in me. To the encouragement I received from Dan. The way Drew challenged me to see things through the eyes of someone so different from me. The way I knew my girls were watching me to see how I would be a student. And my colleagues who always had a kind word about my papers, my hard work, and my enthusiasm for my learning. The way I learned to rely on the Holy Spirit! For without that Secret Ingredient, my efforts will be meager. I learned that truth in my reading, and I learned it in my life. I pray I will be transformed by that learning.
Thank You, God. Thank you, Dan. Thank you family and friends for supporting and encouraging me.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
A Surprise!
I texted her around 4 to see if she could pick me up at five. It took a while, but she eventually responded that sure, she could. My afternoon had been crazy, so there was little time to communicate with anyone. Thirteen students in 3 hours and then a visit from two alumni in the last 20 minutes of my workday. It had been a day!
I really wanted to visit with the two alumni who I rarely see. One who lives in town, but is crazy busy. The other, her twin sister, who lives in California where she attends law school. It was great to see them. But their late arrival meant a really short visit if Anna came to get me at 5. So I asked if she could wait until 5:15. She again took a while, but agreed.
As I rushed to pack up my office and say goodbye to these young women who are precious to me, I was anxious that Anna would be waiting for me. I knew she had show choir, so I didn't want to keep her waiting when she had done me the favor of coming to pick me up. With winter and the bitter cold and ice right around the corner, I knew I had to keep her on my side! So I cut my visit short and headed outside. And she wasn't there. I grew frustrated. And cold.
Eventually I started walking. And just as I rounded the corner of Blanchard, there she came. I hopped in the car and of course had a snarky comment about her being late. Mom mistake #1 for the evening. No doubt it would not be my last.
I went on to ask about her day. It wasn't good. That is to say, it was just like most of the other days she experienced in high school. I was no fan of high school either, but I don't think I was nearly as miserable as Anna seems to be. If I'm honest, I'm starting to get a little worried. We finish the short ride home. Anna asks what I'm making for dinner? If anyone is coming? When Dad will be home? I answer: shrimp, rice, sautéed spinach. Adam. Not sure, I told him dinner was 7ish.
As we pulled into the driveway she asked if she could just leave her car there. Again, snarky voice came out and I said something about having to move it if Daddy came home. Mom mistake #2.
As we walk in the house, Anna tries to block my view as she tells me that she has prepared a special dinner for us! She had found a recipe, done the grocery shopping, and then spent the afternoon cooking for us. The table was set, the food was on the table, the salad was in the fridge. Water was poured. And there were no dirty dishes in sight!!!! It was the greatest treat. And because I had asked her to come later, because we were working on planning for our Sunday night ministry, and I had told Daddy he could come home later, her very special dinner just didn't happen as she had imagined.
She was a trooper. After I had given her a long and very heart-felt hug, we dove into the sweet potato and black bean flautas she had made. And they were amazing! This girl can cook. She told me she had found the recipe on Pinterest. It really was delicious. We both oohed and aahed over the yumminess of the dish she had created. How beautifully she had plated them. How much time it must have taken.
My girl is amazing. She makes a mama proud. And she makes a mama wish she had been more careful with her words on the ride home.
James 4:8 … but no human being can tame the tongue… It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.
Lord, I pray that someday I will overcome my tongue!
I really wanted to visit with the two alumni who I rarely see. One who lives in town, but is crazy busy. The other, her twin sister, who lives in California where she attends law school. It was great to see them. But their late arrival meant a really short visit if Anna came to get me at 5. So I asked if she could wait until 5:15. She again took a while, but agreed.
As I rushed to pack up my office and say goodbye to these young women who are precious to me, I was anxious that Anna would be waiting for me. I knew she had show choir, so I didn't want to keep her waiting when she had done me the favor of coming to pick me up. With winter and the bitter cold and ice right around the corner, I knew I had to keep her on my side! So I cut my visit short and headed outside. And she wasn't there. I grew frustrated. And cold.
Eventually I started walking. And just as I rounded the corner of Blanchard, there she came. I hopped in the car and of course had a snarky comment about her being late. Mom mistake #1 for the evening. No doubt it would not be my last.
I went on to ask about her day. It wasn't good. That is to say, it was just like most of the other days she experienced in high school. I was no fan of high school either, but I don't think I was nearly as miserable as Anna seems to be. If I'm honest, I'm starting to get a little worried. We finish the short ride home. Anna asks what I'm making for dinner? If anyone is coming? When Dad will be home? I answer: shrimp, rice, sautéed spinach. Adam. Not sure, I told him dinner was 7ish.
As we pulled into the driveway she asked if she could just leave her car there. Again, snarky voice came out and I said something about having to move it if Daddy came home. Mom mistake #2.
As we walk in the house, Anna tries to block my view as she tells me that she has prepared a special dinner for us! She had found a recipe, done the grocery shopping, and then spent the afternoon cooking for us. The table was set, the food was on the table, the salad was in the fridge. Water was poured. And there were no dirty dishes in sight!!!! It was the greatest treat. And because I had asked her to come later, because we were working on planning for our Sunday night ministry, and I had told Daddy he could come home later, her very special dinner just didn't happen as she had imagined.
She was a trooper. After I had given her a long and very heart-felt hug, we dove into the sweet potato and black bean flautas she had made. And they were amazing! This girl can cook. She told me she had found the recipe on Pinterest. It really was delicious. We both oohed and aahed over the yumminess of the dish she had created. How beautifully she had plated them. How much time it must have taken.
My girl is amazing. She makes a mama proud. And she makes a mama wish she had been more careful with her words on the ride home.
James 4:8 … but no human being can tame the tongue… It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.
Lord, I pray that someday I will overcome my tongue!
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Just Hanging...
Tonight was a special night. It was a crazy day that ended in a restful, easy, healing evening.
As always, Sundays are our ministry day. This week, we started early with church at 8am to hear a dear friend read Scripture, something he has longed to do at his church for a long time. Though we aren't his parents, we couldn't have been more proud of his heart in wanting to share his love for Jesus by reading His Word in front of his church. We were honored to be there.
What that meant from a practical standpoint was that our day started really early! And it wasn't going to end early, that we knew!
After breakfast with my husband at my favorite breakfast place, we headed home to begin the work of ministry. And by that I mean, my husband took a nap and I began cooking. Preparing a meal for an unknown number of people is always a quandary. We've had as few as 29 and as many as 35 this year, and we just never know how many will come. So I just cook a lot and pray it will be like Jesus and the 5000: that the fish and bread will multiply and everyone will go home satisfied.
Today was breakfast day. One of the students had made that suggestion and even offered to come and flip the pancakes. I couldn't resist the offer to have some help in the kitchen, so the menu was decided. I'd done the grocery shopping on Saturday, and the fridge was full. Even had an egg casserole in the fridge ready for the oven an hour before we got started.
But that was it. All the other prep happened today. Fruit needed to be cut: mango, pineapple, strawberries. And the blueberries and raspberries had to be washed. Two big bowls of fruit would be waiting for the students, something they don't usually have at Saga and so it's always much appreciated by our guests. Then I took a break, did some reading for my class, and started back at it at 2pm. I thought that would be plenty of time. Who knew I would start cooking bacon at 2pm and not finish until just before 5 when our guests arrived.
On top of that there was the pancake batter, the chilaquiles, the scrambled eggs, and the sausage. Oh yes, and the salad. Students ended up coming. Eric pitched in. The boy who read the Scripture earlier that day, the Reader, cracked a couple of dozen eggs for me. It was a team effort and everyone contributed. It was a really nice atmosphere. I was grateful for the hands and also for the conversation as we did this work to serve others.
As the students began to arrive, we knew this was going to be a good night with lots of students! It was crazy. They just kept coming in. As our pancake maker pulled the food out of the oven, we gathered around the island to hold hands and pray. There were mostly familiar faces, but also a couple of new ones to me, and a few more Eric had never met who I had met at the office. It is always so beautiful to see so many of God's children circled together, eager to be together, hungry for food and a word from God. Tonight they would not be disappointed.
After enjoying our dinner, which miraculously managed to feed everyone, Eric led the charge in cleaning as our Reader prepared to give the lesson for the evening. And he did a great job. There was no doubt, he allowed the Holy Spirit to lead him as he shared a story of his own pridefulness, a belief in his ability to change the heart of someone struggling with a stronghold of discontent and doubt about his faith. Our Scripture Reader admitted to the 42 students in the room, his mom, and Eric and me that he realized his own arrogance in thinking he could help this friend. And when that didn't happen, he was disappointed in both himself and his friend.
He shared this story of his own fault and the students were captivated. They heard about his struggle and knew that they had one that was similar. Of course, the details were different, but we all struggle with pride and the belief that we can do things on our own, without the assistance of our Heavenly Father. We all try to scoot God off the throne and install ourselves there. What a great image our Reader gave us.
After a time of quiet reflection when the students wrestled with some questions the Reader had presented to them, the regular hustle and bustle of them leaving ensued. Food was packed up and given away. Lots of hugs followed. And then it was quiet. And Eric, the Reader, and I gathered. We affirmed him for the work he had done. Both in himself and in preparing for this lesson.
Ultimately, we ended up on the couches in our living room. The fire keeping us warm. Just talking. Three people, generations apart in age, just hanging. And we talked about how different this looked. How the "world" just doesn't get what we do. How Eric and I spend all of our time with college students. Or how the Reader does much of the same, when the people he spends his workdays with are visiting bars or other "singles" activities in the evenings. We look different. We talked about how that's how we should look. Eric and I have known that for a while. The Reader is just beginning to figure it out. And he is still very much judged for that by the people in his 8-5 world. He's not quite sure if he's comfortable with that. It was so easy when he was a student at Wheaton. It's just not so clear now that the way he is spending his time is the "right" way.
But it was a good evening. We had a good time together. We laughed. We talked about lots of things. We grew closer. We buoyed each other up. We acted just like we are...different. Different because we love Jesus, and we seek to live lives that reflect that.
As always, Sundays are our ministry day. This week, we started early with church at 8am to hear a dear friend read Scripture, something he has longed to do at his church for a long time. Though we aren't his parents, we couldn't have been more proud of his heart in wanting to share his love for Jesus by reading His Word in front of his church. We were honored to be there.
What that meant from a practical standpoint was that our day started really early! And it wasn't going to end early, that we knew!
After breakfast with my husband at my favorite breakfast place, we headed home to begin the work of ministry. And by that I mean, my husband took a nap and I began cooking. Preparing a meal for an unknown number of people is always a quandary. We've had as few as 29 and as many as 35 this year, and we just never know how many will come. So I just cook a lot and pray it will be like Jesus and the 5000: that the fish and bread will multiply and everyone will go home satisfied.
Today was breakfast day. One of the students had made that suggestion and even offered to come and flip the pancakes. I couldn't resist the offer to have some help in the kitchen, so the menu was decided. I'd done the grocery shopping on Saturday, and the fridge was full. Even had an egg casserole in the fridge ready for the oven an hour before we got started.
But that was it. All the other prep happened today. Fruit needed to be cut: mango, pineapple, strawberries. And the blueberries and raspberries had to be washed. Two big bowls of fruit would be waiting for the students, something they don't usually have at Saga and so it's always much appreciated by our guests. Then I took a break, did some reading for my class, and started back at it at 2pm. I thought that would be plenty of time. Who knew I would start cooking bacon at 2pm and not finish until just before 5 when our guests arrived.
On top of that there was the pancake batter, the chilaquiles, the scrambled eggs, and the sausage. Oh yes, and the salad. Students ended up coming. Eric pitched in. The boy who read the Scripture earlier that day, the Reader, cracked a couple of dozen eggs for me. It was a team effort and everyone contributed. It was a really nice atmosphere. I was grateful for the hands and also for the conversation as we did this work to serve others.
As the students began to arrive, we knew this was going to be a good night with lots of students! It was crazy. They just kept coming in. As our pancake maker pulled the food out of the oven, we gathered around the island to hold hands and pray. There were mostly familiar faces, but also a couple of new ones to me, and a few more Eric had never met who I had met at the office. It is always so beautiful to see so many of God's children circled together, eager to be together, hungry for food and a word from God. Tonight they would not be disappointed.
After enjoying our dinner, which miraculously managed to feed everyone, Eric led the charge in cleaning as our Reader prepared to give the lesson for the evening. And he did a great job. There was no doubt, he allowed the Holy Spirit to lead him as he shared a story of his own pridefulness, a belief in his ability to change the heart of someone struggling with a stronghold of discontent and doubt about his faith. Our Scripture Reader admitted to the 42 students in the room, his mom, and Eric and me that he realized his own arrogance in thinking he could help this friend. And when that didn't happen, he was disappointed in both himself and his friend.
He shared this story of his own fault and the students were captivated. They heard about his struggle and knew that they had one that was similar. Of course, the details were different, but we all struggle with pride and the belief that we can do things on our own, without the assistance of our Heavenly Father. We all try to scoot God off the throne and install ourselves there. What a great image our Reader gave us.
After a time of quiet reflection when the students wrestled with some questions the Reader had presented to them, the regular hustle and bustle of them leaving ensued. Food was packed up and given away. Lots of hugs followed. And then it was quiet. And Eric, the Reader, and I gathered. We affirmed him for the work he had done. Both in himself and in preparing for this lesson.
Ultimately, we ended up on the couches in our living room. The fire keeping us warm. Just talking. Three people, generations apart in age, just hanging. And we talked about how different this looked. How the "world" just doesn't get what we do. How Eric and I spend all of our time with college students. Or how the Reader does much of the same, when the people he spends his workdays with are visiting bars or other "singles" activities in the evenings. We look different. We talked about how that's how we should look. Eric and I have known that for a while. The Reader is just beginning to figure it out. And he is still very much judged for that by the people in his 8-5 world. He's not quite sure if he's comfortable with that. It was so easy when he was a student at Wheaton. It's just not so clear now that the way he is spending his time is the "right" way.
But it was a good evening. We had a good time together. We laughed. We talked about lots of things. We grew closer. We buoyed each other up. We acted just like we are...different. Different because we love Jesus, and we seek to live lives that reflect that.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
A Connection Was Made...Again
It was like any other day at Saga. We were scheduled to meet at noon on a Tuesday. One of my favorite times because it's not crowded yet. Unlike Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 12:30 when the place is packed and you have to hunt for a table.
I arrived a couple of minutes early. I admit because I was really excited to spend time with this young woman. She arrived a couple of minutes late, but virtually on time. It had been almost a year since we had been able to spend time together. I was really looking forward to catching up. She came up behind me with a sweet voice and said, "Dee." It was so good to be in her presence.
You see, it had been a year, but the connection we established during that first encounter last fall was deep and meaningful. I had been impacted, and I think maybe she had been too!
Our crazy schedules had gotten in the way of this reunion since the beginning of school, but today it finally came together. Joy. That's what I felt.
We hugged. She gave me a Dine with the Mind card, and we went in to Saga. It's funny, I eat lunch almost every day with a student and very few of them get a card for me. Even the ones I feed almost every Sunday don't do that. I was touched that she thought enough to go that extra effort. She really is a precious and kind young woman.
We found our table and settled our stuff before heading back up to get lunch. Once we had navigated the lines that had started to accumulate, we met back at our table. No tray for her, just a heaping bowl of salad. My tray contained a plate of salad and a bowl of melon. Happily, there was lots of watermelon today, my favorite! I often wonder if the no tray thing is to protect the environment or limit the amount of food one gets. Perhaps a double benefit!
As we took our seats, I asked to pray and help her hand as I thanked God for arranging this long-anticipated appointment. I prayed for His blessing on her. And thanked Him for bringing her into my life.
After we had prayed, we began as we usually do. Me asking questions. My first one was about her crazy roommate while she was in another hemisphere for the semester. And my foot was already in my mouth. That girl, who is still her roommate, is a Wheaton student! I had no idea. She shared some of their story. How they ended up in the same program. How they ended up sharing a bed in a small room in a home in the heart of the city. The exorbitant prices of housing in that city and how this was the best option and ended up being a great friendship for her.
She shared a bit of her adventures. The fun. The craziness. The freedom. The visits to a great church that fed her soul. The rigor of the academic program. The substance of her classes that fit so well with her interest in International Business, classes she couldn't really experience at Wheaton.
Our interaction the prior school year during a routine appointment in my office had uncovered our kindred spirits. Our desire to have people be seen as they really are. To have people take off the masks they so often don to cover up what they don't want people to see about themselves. The guilt and shame they want to hide. This young woman and I know a lot about those feelings. And we both are encouraged that there is someone else who understands our feelings, and can understand what it means to love Jesus even when we're struggling with ourselves. She shared the judgment she experienced upon her return, and the feelings that she was just a little different after her adventure.
Today, those feelings of kindship came rushing back as our conversation went from the surface to the deep. From the logistics of how she ended up overseas, to the reality of what that experience was. How she realized the need not to say she was a Christian, but to actively pursue being one. That saying you are something means you ought to look different to the world. We shared our hearts right there in the middle of hundreds of students and our connection was instantly secured.
It was a beautiful thing. And no one watching even knew the unveiling of beauty that was happening.
I arrived a couple of minutes early. I admit because I was really excited to spend time with this young woman. She arrived a couple of minutes late, but virtually on time. It had been almost a year since we had been able to spend time together. I was really looking forward to catching up. She came up behind me with a sweet voice and said, "Dee." It was so good to be in her presence.
You see, it had been a year, but the connection we established during that first encounter last fall was deep and meaningful. I had been impacted, and I think maybe she had been too!
Our crazy schedules had gotten in the way of this reunion since the beginning of school, but today it finally came together. Joy. That's what I felt.
We hugged. She gave me a Dine with the Mind card, and we went in to Saga. It's funny, I eat lunch almost every day with a student and very few of them get a card for me. Even the ones I feed almost every Sunday don't do that. I was touched that she thought enough to go that extra effort. She really is a precious and kind young woman.
We found our table and settled our stuff before heading back up to get lunch. Once we had navigated the lines that had started to accumulate, we met back at our table. No tray for her, just a heaping bowl of salad. My tray contained a plate of salad and a bowl of melon. Happily, there was lots of watermelon today, my favorite! I often wonder if the no tray thing is to protect the environment or limit the amount of food one gets. Perhaps a double benefit!
As we took our seats, I asked to pray and help her hand as I thanked God for arranging this long-anticipated appointment. I prayed for His blessing on her. And thanked Him for bringing her into my life.
After we had prayed, we began as we usually do. Me asking questions. My first one was about her crazy roommate while she was in another hemisphere for the semester. And my foot was already in my mouth. That girl, who is still her roommate, is a Wheaton student! I had no idea. She shared some of their story. How they ended up in the same program. How they ended up sharing a bed in a small room in a home in the heart of the city. The exorbitant prices of housing in that city and how this was the best option and ended up being a great friendship for her.
She shared a bit of her adventures. The fun. The craziness. The freedom. The visits to a great church that fed her soul. The rigor of the academic program. The substance of her classes that fit so well with her interest in International Business, classes she couldn't really experience at Wheaton.
Our interaction the prior school year during a routine appointment in my office had uncovered our kindred spirits. Our desire to have people be seen as they really are. To have people take off the masks they so often don to cover up what they don't want people to see about themselves. The guilt and shame they want to hide. This young woman and I know a lot about those feelings. And we both are encouraged that there is someone else who understands our feelings, and can understand what it means to love Jesus even when we're struggling with ourselves. She shared the judgment she experienced upon her return, and the feelings that she was just a little different after her adventure.
Today, those feelings of kindship came rushing back as our conversation went from the surface to the deep. From the logistics of how she ended up overseas, to the reality of what that experience was. How she realized the need not to say she was a Christian, but to actively pursue being one. That saying you are something means you ought to look different to the world. We shared our hearts right there in the middle of hundreds of students and our connection was instantly secured.
It was a beautiful thing. And no one watching even knew the unveiling of beauty that was happening.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Church
We arrived at the building which looks like much the office building it once was on this crisp fall day. The leaves are beginning to change, though I know that only because of the ones we saw as we drove here this morning. There isn't a tree in sight as we pull up to the building. There is little activity in the parking lot. No one directing traffic as they were the last time we were here. We find a parking spot, one a little farther away so we can pull straight out instead of backing out amongst the cars that will hurriedly be exiting to enter into the rest of the Sunday routine.
We hesitate a moment as to the best way to enter the building. Having visited once before, we know the room where we will worship is on the bottom floor of the building. So if we go up the stairs to enter the front doors, we just have to go the stairs inside to reach the worship room. Did you notice I didn't call it a sanctuary as you would in a more typical church? Or I suppose I could call it an auditorium. Sanctuary seems too "churchy" for this space that looks more like a corporate meeting space. And auditorium seems like a word that should be used in a theater or school setting. So I'll call it a worship space to reflect its purpose and also the reality that it looks and feels different than what is expected at a traditional church.
We opt to go up the wide concrete steps at the front of the church and enter the main doors upstairs. We are greeted by friendly but unfamiliar faces, smiling at us as we enter. We shook hands with the young man and then headed down the aforementioned stairs to the worship space. Unsure whether we were early or late, we headed through the doors to find seats. The lights were low in the space that contained a stage, rows of movie-theater like seats, carpeting, and these annoying pillars that you have to pay attention to when choosing where you will sit.
We tend to be front of the church people. I find my ability to pay attention is much greater if I can focus on the speaker rather than all of the people in front of me. And because of me, our family has always tended to sit toward the front. Sometimes much to the dismay of my children, but because they aren't with us this morning, Eric is a good husband who lets me sit where I want. We find on the same side of the room where we sat the last time we were here, something I realize I do: always gravitating back to the same place when choosing a seat. I love change, but this is one way where my behavior does not reflect that. I really like to sit in the same place each time I visit a church, go to class, attend a staff meeting, or at our dinner table. A creature of habit in that.
We were meeting our dear friends Ian and Bre, whose wedding we had attended in the middle of September. As always, they were a little late arriving, so we were in the midst of singing the first song when they arrived. We had been looking out for them and had even texted them to let them know where we were sitting. We adore this young couple. They inspire us to be better people. To pursue our faith. To look at our own marriage and the example we are setting as we interact with them. Their wedding was truly one of the most precious we have ever attended. We are so blessed to be a part of their lives and to have them as a part of ours.
We exchanged awkward hugs as they stepped past us in the row to get to the seats we had "saved" for them. Bre sat next to me and Ian went to the end. Interesting to me how this ritual is so often repeated. The women sit together in the middle with the men on the ends. I actually appreciate the custom and feel cocooned by the protection of the men on the outside. One of the very few times I welcome an old fashioned tradition.
As we continued singing the worship songs I found myself melting more and more into the mode of praising Jesus. If I'm honest, this is such an important part of the Sunday morning experience for me. This time of lifting my voice to the Lord, letting Him know how much I love Him, and doing it with lots of believers around me. It just feels good to me. And even though the songs we sang this morning were unfamiliar to me, I was able to follow them and experience a true love of Jesus as I sang the unfamiliar words to unfamiliar melodies. As always, I am keenly aware of the body language, participation, and posture of those worshiping around me. I always struggle to stay aware and not judgmental, as I know that is not my role. More importantly, this is a time when I am to be focused on the Lord, and not on those around me. And so often I keep my eyes closed to avoid any distraction. When I don't know the songs this is a little harder for me and so I really do prefer to sing songs I know well. It keeps my attention on Christ alone!
After the music, we sat down while a young pastor, you know the one who is a David Crowder wanna be, comes up, announces the video with the announcements, prays for us, and then conducts the offering. The praise band leads us in another worship song while the velvet-like bags are passed around. These are interesting to me. They look like those bags that magicians use when trying to pull a bunch of flowers or a rabbit or a dove out of a bag. The bag passes down our row without anyone placing one penny in it, and for a moment I wonder what kind of example we are setting in that. We tithe Eric's gross income and spend more than I make on our college ministry, so I don't really feel guilt about not putting anything in the bag as it passes, but I wonder if we need to have a conversation with Bre and Ian about tithing when you don't have a home church yet.
Following this song, the pastor comes up. He is dresses, as usual, very casually in designer jeans, an untucked shirt, and what appear to be some very expensive shoes. A stylish, tall, handsome man who looks a little too pretty to be a pastor. His appearance has always been a little unsettling to me, having seen him in person three times at this church. He starts talking to us by relaying a story. Honestly, I can't even remember that first story right now. I do remember the gist of the message, however. And more specifically I remember those things he mentioned that, I believe, were especially intended for me.
The text was Exodus 14-15, the story of Moses and the parting of the Red Sea. The sermon series has to do with taking our faith to the next level. Pastor Ron outlined the 7 steps we need to take to achieve that next level of faith. For me, the biggest challenge is the same one I addressed and committed to during my class, Teaching for Transformation: getting out of the way! I so often want to be in control that I don't leave room for God to be in control. My efforts will never match His, so why do I keep trying to do what only He can do?
There were lots of other points, some I'm certain would be worthy of my attention. But it seems that God has a message for me and I keep hearing it over and over. Get out of my way!!! I've got this. When I need your help, I'll let you know. But for now, get out of the way!
What will it take for me to learn that? What will it take for me to be transformed by the teaching I keep hearing? Lord, I pray I would internalize those words and allow You to do your job while I do the one You have designated for me to do.
We hesitate a moment as to the best way to enter the building. Having visited once before, we know the room where we will worship is on the bottom floor of the building. So if we go up the stairs to enter the front doors, we just have to go the stairs inside to reach the worship room. Did you notice I didn't call it a sanctuary as you would in a more typical church? Or I suppose I could call it an auditorium. Sanctuary seems too "churchy" for this space that looks more like a corporate meeting space. And auditorium seems like a word that should be used in a theater or school setting. So I'll call it a worship space to reflect its purpose and also the reality that it looks and feels different than what is expected at a traditional church.
We opt to go up the wide concrete steps at the front of the church and enter the main doors upstairs. We are greeted by friendly but unfamiliar faces, smiling at us as we enter. We shook hands with the young man and then headed down the aforementioned stairs to the worship space. Unsure whether we were early or late, we headed through the doors to find seats. The lights were low in the space that contained a stage, rows of movie-theater like seats, carpeting, and these annoying pillars that you have to pay attention to when choosing where you will sit.
We tend to be front of the church people. I find my ability to pay attention is much greater if I can focus on the speaker rather than all of the people in front of me. And because of me, our family has always tended to sit toward the front. Sometimes much to the dismay of my children, but because they aren't with us this morning, Eric is a good husband who lets me sit where I want. We find on the same side of the room where we sat the last time we were here, something I realize I do: always gravitating back to the same place when choosing a seat. I love change, but this is one way where my behavior does not reflect that. I really like to sit in the same place each time I visit a church, go to class, attend a staff meeting, or at our dinner table. A creature of habit in that.
We were meeting our dear friends Ian and Bre, whose wedding we had attended in the middle of September. As always, they were a little late arriving, so we were in the midst of singing the first song when they arrived. We had been looking out for them and had even texted them to let them know where we were sitting. We adore this young couple. They inspire us to be better people. To pursue our faith. To look at our own marriage and the example we are setting as we interact with them. Their wedding was truly one of the most precious we have ever attended. We are so blessed to be a part of their lives and to have them as a part of ours.
We exchanged awkward hugs as they stepped past us in the row to get to the seats we had "saved" for them. Bre sat next to me and Ian went to the end. Interesting to me how this ritual is so often repeated. The women sit together in the middle with the men on the ends. I actually appreciate the custom and feel cocooned by the protection of the men on the outside. One of the very few times I welcome an old fashioned tradition.
As we continued singing the worship songs I found myself melting more and more into the mode of praising Jesus. If I'm honest, this is such an important part of the Sunday morning experience for me. This time of lifting my voice to the Lord, letting Him know how much I love Him, and doing it with lots of believers around me. It just feels good to me. And even though the songs we sang this morning were unfamiliar to me, I was able to follow them and experience a true love of Jesus as I sang the unfamiliar words to unfamiliar melodies. As always, I am keenly aware of the body language, participation, and posture of those worshiping around me. I always struggle to stay aware and not judgmental, as I know that is not my role. More importantly, this is a time when I am to be focused on the Lord, and not on those around me. And so often I keep my eyes closed to avoid any distraction. When I don't know the songs this is a little harder for me and so I really do prefer to sing songs I know well. It keeps my attention on Christ alone!
After the music, we sat down while a young pastor, you know the one who is a David Crowder wanna be, comes up, announces the video with the announcements, prays for us, and then conducts the offering. The praise band leads us in another worship song while the velvet-like bags are passed around. These are interesting to me. They look like those bags that magicians use when trying to pull a bunch of flowers or a rabbit or a dove out of a bag. The bag passes down our row without anyone placing one penny in it, and for a moment I wonder what kind of example we are setting in that. We tithe Eric's gross income and spend more than I make on our college ministry, so I don't really feel guilt about not putting anything in the bag as it passes, but I wonder if we need to have a conversation with Bre and Ian about tithing when you don't have a home church yet.
Following this song, the pastor comes up. He is dresses, as usual, very casually in designer jeans, an untucked shirt, and what appear to be some very expensive shoes. A stylish, tall, handsome man who looks a little too pretty to be a pastor. His appearance has always been a little unsettling to me, having seen him in person three times at this church. He starts talking to us by relaying a story. Honestly, I can't even remember that first story right now. I do remember the gist of the message, however. And more specifically I remember those things he mentioned that, I believe, were especially intended for me.
The text was Exodus 14-15, the story of Moses and the parting of the Red Sea. The sermon series has to do with taking our faith to the next level. Pastor Ron outlined the 7 steps we need to take to achieve that next level of faith. For me, the biggest challenge is the same one I addressed and committed to during my class, Teaching for Transformation: getting out of the way! I so often want to be in control that I don't leave room for God to be in control. My efforts will never match His, so why do I keep trying to do what only He can do?
There were lots of other points, some I'm certain would be worthy of my attention. But it seems that God has a message for me and I keep hearing it over and over. Get out of my way!!! I've got this. When I need your help, I'll let you know. But for now, get out of the way!
What will it take for me to learn that? What will it take for me to be transformed by the teaching I keep hearing? Lord, I pray I would internalize those words and allow You to do your job while I do the one You have designated for me to do.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Dinner Amid Chaos...
Tuesday has become the night we eat out. A quick trip to Chipotle is the usual. But tonight Eric had a hankering for a hot dog. Anna had already eaten, so it was just the two of us headed to the Smoke House. I admit to not being overly excited as finding something "healthy" to eat is no small task at this place with some of the best French fries in town!
If you've never been there, it's a treat. The smells of gyro meat on the spit. The sound of metal utensils clanking on the stainless steel counters. Your eyes are bombarded with color and activity.
All lit up and packed with moms and kids, the place was loud and crazy tonight. As we entered people who appeared to be in line kept telling us they were just waiting for their food, so we moved to the front and eventually placed our order. Eric: two hot dogs, Chicago-style and fries with a water. Me: a Greek salad with gyro meat and a water. As we waited, we chatted a bit and mostly, because we are both absolutely exhausted, just watched the guys doing their thing behind the counter. It was somehow relaxing to watch their fluid, confident movements, as they went about the task of taking the burden of cooking dinner for so many of us on themselves. At one point, the man slicing the gyro meat used his tongs to take the remaining portion of meat on it's rotisserie stick out and carry it to the back. Quite an act of physics to carry that heavy piece of metal with some meat still on it somewhere in the back of the building. We both considered the thought of him using those same tongs to carry out a full skewer of meat and decided that would be beyond the rules of physics!
Eventually we received our food and attempted to navigate our way back to a table. The front of the restaurant was crawling with people under three feet. I was certain we would spill our entire trays all over them before we reached our destination. We managed to weave our through the maze of children and found a table. I still needed silverware and we both needed napkins, so Eric gallantly made the journey through the quickly moving children to retrieve the items we needed.
After a prayer of thanksgiving for all of God's generosity to us, we dove into our meals. Honestly, I'm not even sure what we talked about. There was so much chaos around us. Babies crying. A child squeezing ketchup onto the table. A family of five enjoying their meals and having a nice conversation. Children kicking the booth behind us so we felt the random bang on our own side of the booth in intermittent intervals. Moms getting up and down out of the same booth to chase after children. And the inevitable jostle we would experience every time they did. The mom who said her son's name in that "stop what you're doing" voice. To which the other young boy said, "I started it!" I laughed out loud as he protected his friend with those bold and confident words. It was just precious.
We finished our meal, and I'm pretty sure we had some conversation. But what was most interesting was that once we finished, neither of us hurried to leave. We probably sat there for another 10 minutes. The banging on the booth continued. The boys wrestling in the middle of the aisle as other diners tried to pass them escalated. And we just sat there. Riveted by the activity and almost hypnotized by the show we were experiencing.
We left not feeling overwhelmed by our days as we had when we entered. We left with a weird sense of calm. Maybe it was just relief. Relief that our own children, who are now 19 and 16, don't wrestle in the aisles anymore. Nor do they get in people's way who are carrying trays of food. Nope. Maybe our kids aren't really kids anymore at all.
All lit up and packed with moms and kids, the place was loud and crazy tonight. As we entered people who appeared to be in line kept telling us they were just waiting for their food, so we moved to the front and eventually placed our order. Eric: two hot dogs, Chicago-style and fries with a water. Me: a Greek salad with gyro meat and a water. As we waited, we chatted a bit and mostly, because we are both absolutely exhausted, just watched the guys doing their thing behind the counter. It was somehow relaxing to watch their fluid, confident movements, as they went about the task of taking the burden of cooking dinner for so many of us on themselves. At one point, the man slicing the gyro meat used his tongs to take the remaining portion of meat on it's rotisserie stick out and carry it to the back. Quite an act of physics to carry that heavy piece of metal with some meat still on it somewhere in the back of the building. We both considered the thought of him using those same tongs to carry out a full skewer of meat and decided that would be beyond the rules of physics!
Eventually we received our food and attempted to navigate our way back to a table. The front of the restaurant was crawling with people under three feet. I was certain we would spill our entire trays all over them before we reached our destination. We managed to weave our through the maze of children and found a table. I still needed silverware and we both needed napkins, so Eric gallantly made the journey through the quickly moving children to retrieve the items we needed.
After a prayer of thanksgiving for all of God's generosity to us, we dove into our meals. Honestly, I'm not even sure what we talked about. There was so much chaos around us. Babies crying. A child squeezing ketchup onto the table. A family of five enjoying their meals and having a nice conversation. Children kicking the booth behind us so we felt the random bang on our own side of the booth in intermittent intervals. Moms getting up and down out of the same booth to chase after children. And the inevitable jostle we would experience every time they did. The mom who said her son's name in that "stop what you're doing" voice. To which the other young boy said, "I started it!" I laughed out loud as he protected his friend with those bold and confident words. It was just precious.
We finished our meal, and I'm pretty sure we had some conversation. But what was most interesting was that once we finished, neither of us hurried to leave. We probably sat there for another 10 minutes. The banging on the booth continued. The boys wrestling in the middle of the aisle as other diners tried to pass them escalated. And we just sat there. Riveted by the activity and almost hypnotized by the show we were experiencing.
We left not feeling overwhelmed by our days as we had when we entered. We left with a weird sense of calm. Maybe it was just relief. Relief that our own children, who are now 19 and 16, don't wrestle in the aisles anymore. Nor do they get in people's way who are carrying trays of food. Nope. Maybe our kids aren't really kids anymore at all.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Dinner with the Boys...
The question had been posed ten minutes before we had to head off to class...tell me your story. How did you meet? And how did you both come to know Christ? Needless to say, there just wasn't time to do those questions justice in the noise of Saga. So I proposed a dinner. At our house. With the boys and my husband and I.
So last Saturday night, after we had gotten our 16-year old off to her second homecoming dance, we came home to do the cooking. That is, Eric went and laid down for a quick nap and I cooked. I had done the grocery shopping the night before and that morning, so I had all the ingredients for the menu: a variety of chicken sausages, seasoned smashed fingerling potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts with walnuts, and sauteed peppers and onions. Anna had made another batch of Green Goddess, so upon their arrival, the older boy went straight for that bowl! It's a staple in our house and always brings a smile to the faces of our guests. Our family joke is that everything is better with Green Goddess!
As I gathered our dinner together, we all visited around the island in our kitchen. It's really the greatest place in our house. We have had students tell us it is one of their very favorite places on the planet. To sit at our island while I cook or clean dishes and just have good, honest, open conversation. What would this night look like? What would our conversation include? Would we ever answer the questions the younger man posed at an earlier dinner?
We gathered in a circle at the end of the island to pray. I led the prayer - a little strange because I was the only woman - but Eric was a bit drained so I took the lead. And the truth is, I was the one who wanted this evening to happen. Eric and I have both been exhausted. Between work, my class, and the demands of our ministry, we just haven't had much time to relax. And our bodies are feeling it. I can push things pretty hard for a while and be okay. But Eric really needs his sleep. As an intellection he needs time alone to recharge. Time with nothing to do but just be. And we just haven't had much of that lately.
You see, we have been overwhelmed by students with troubles. From girlfriend issues to one girl we suspect has been cutting to another young man struggling with pornography to a freshman girl whose dad is struggling with Stage 4 cancer, the stuff we are seeing in students this year is like nothing we have ever seen before. And satan is at work. Our old car needed a lot of work just to be safe for our daughter to drive it. The air conditioning in our house broke. The other car needs an oil change and I just don't have the time to do that and all of the other errands that need to be handled, and so the burden is falling on Eric. And he's the one with the real job. It's just a lot.
That is all to say, he was tired on this Saturday night when we were having guests. I had hoped it would be a casual, carefree evening. Just some good food and some good conversation. Relaxing.
And for the most part, that's just what it was. As we sat down to eat dinner, I shared that the younger man had asked to hear our story. How we had met. How we had come to know Jesus. And so I began to tell the story. The story of our meeting in a bar, kissing the very first night we met, how our long-distance relationship progressed. The boys asked questions. Our lifestyle, the choices we made as people who were not really following Christ were intriguing to them. So as we sat in our comfy chairs around our dining room table with the table full of empty dishes, we shared the good and the bad of our early choices and where it brought us today. It wasn't an easy discussion to have and left both Eric and I feeling pretty vulnerable, but comfortable in that place.
As dinner wound down, the older boy got up and cleaned some of the dishes, putting them in the dishwasher. As he did so, I asked him if he had someplace to be. I thought he said yes, and from then on I was aware that he needed to leave. Turns out, he hadn't even heard my question and just said yes. Once we figured that out, my dismay abated and we moved on to the living room and we continued our story. My husband is so cute, he loves to tell every detail of his stories. I'm much more concerned about boring people, so I tend to leave out a lot of details and focus on the high points. Not Eric. He is very thorough. I think it's the Learner in him that likes to learn so much he assumes everyone else will too! I'm grateful to understand Strengths and appreciate the way God made my husband!
As we continued, we shared how the Lord seemed to grab each of us. To be there just when we needed Him most. He made His pursuit of us a full-court press and eventually we both accepted His advances and fell deeply in love with Jesus. For me it was about 14 years ago, right after my second miscarriage. This was news to the boys, who had asked if we had wanted more children. For Eric it was about 11 years ago, on the road to Bucyrus, a small town in Ohio. The boys listened intently as we shared the ways God had made his presence known to us.
We shared our church history and of course, the older boy had questions about our girls being baptized Lutheran. With so many opinions about which denominations have the right doctrine and which don't, it was funny to have them wrestle with the notion that this couple they think are pretty cool could have come from such a suspect religious background!
As my husband and I sat on one couch, with his head in my lap as I ran my fingers through his hair, the boys sat on the opposite couch, with their legs touching, and began to tell us the story of how they met. It was precious to hear how God brought them together through a random Skype call with the younger boy's mom who invited them both to their family home over Spring break. It was during that trip that their affection for each other grew as they read the book of Galatians and recovered from some really deep hurts.
It's interesting to me that they like spending a Saturday night hanging out with us. I so appreciate their company, the ways they teach us, and the chance to pour into their lives. They really are curious and seem genuinely interested, especially the younger boy. The older one has known us longer and much more intimately, and knows bits and pieces about us already. I'm also not sure he's as naturally curious as the younger man.
Eventually, Eric got up and as he usually does, he kissed me and went up to bed. The older boy has gotten used to his sudden and sometimes unannounced departures so he didn't really blink an eye. And then the conversation turned once again to the topic we have covered over and over since the beginning of summer: predestination, election, or whatever other name you call it. As always there was contention. There was lots of discussion. There was a lot of agreement.
One side quoting a lot of scripture. Even accusing the other of not believing the Bible because of the numerous references to "the elect" and "predestination" that in his mind make it all so clear. The other trying to reconcile the character of a loving God with One who would choose to send some of his creatures to eternal damnation. And one person just trying to mediate the conversation and ensure everyone feels honored and heard. And so the debate continues. A recurring theme for the ages.
It was a typical night at the Pierces. Lots of food. Good conversation. And a good old fashioned debate on a Biblical issue. I wouldn't have it any other way!
So last Saturday night, after we had gotten our 16-year old off to her second homecoming dance, we came home to do the cooking. That is, Eric went and laid down for a quick nap and I cooked. I had done the grocery shopping the night before and that morning, so I had all the ingredients for the menu: a variety of chicken sausages, seasoned smashed fingerling potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts with walnuts, and sauteed peppers and onions. Anna had made another batch of Green Goddess, so upon their arrival, the older boy went straight for that bowl! It's a staple in our house and always brings a smile to the faces of our guests. Our family joke is that everything is better with Green Goddess!
As I gathered our dinner together, we all visited around the island in our kitchen. It's really the greatest place in our house. We have had students tell us it is one of their very favorite places on the planet. To sit at our island while I cook or clean dishes and just have good, honest, open conversation. What would this night look like? What would our conversation include? Would we ever answer the questions the younger man posed at an earlier dinner?
We gathered in a circle at the end of the island to pray. I led the prayer - a little strange because I was the only woman - but Eric was a bit drained so I took the lead. And the truth is, I was the one who wanted this evening to happen. Eric and I have both been exhausted. Between work, my class, and the demands of our ministry, we just haven't had much time to relax. And our bodies are feeling it. I can push things pretty hard for a while and be okay. But Eric really needs his sleep. As an intellection he needs time alone to recharge. Time with nothing to do but just be. And we just haven't had much of that lately.
You see, we have been overwhelmed by students with troubles. From girlfriend issues to one girl we suspect has been cutting to another young man struggling with pornography to a freshman girl whose dad is struggling with Stage 4 cancer, the stuff we are seeing in students this year is like nothing we have ever seen before. And satan is at work. Our old car needed a lot of work just to be safe for our daughter to drive it. The air conditioning in our house broke. The other car needs an oil change and I just don't have the time to do that and all of the other errands that need to be handled, and so the burden is falling on Eric. And he's the one with the real job. It's just a lot.
That is all to say, he was tired on this Saturday night when we were having guests. I had hoped it would be a casual, carefree evening. Just some good food and some good conversation. Relaxing.
And for the most part, that's just what it was. As we sat down to eat dinner, I shared that the younger man had asked to hear our story. How we had met. How we had come to know Jesus. And so I began to tell the story. The story of our meeting in a bar, kissing the very first night we met, how our long-distance relationship progressed. The boys asked questions. Our lifestyle, the choices we made as people who were not really following Christ were intriguing to them. So as we sat in our comfy chairs around our dining room table with the table full of empty dishes, we shared the good and the bad of our early choices and where it brought us today. It wasn't an easy discussion to have and left both Eric and I feeling pretty vulnerable, but comfortable in that place.
As dinner wound down, the older boy got up and cleaned some of the dishes, putting them in the dishwasher. As he did so, I asked him if he had someplace to be. I thought he said yes, and from then on I was aware that he needed to leave. Turns out, he hadn't even heard my question and just said yes. Once we figured that out, my dismay abated and we moved on to the living room and we continued our story. My husband is so cute, he loves to tell every detail of his stories. I'm much more concerned about boring people, so I tend to leave out a lot of details and focus on the high points. Not Eric. He is very thorough. I think it's the Learner in him that likes to learn so much he assumes everyone else will too! I'm grateful to understand Strengths and appreciate the way God made my husband!
As we continued, we shared how the Lord seemed to grab each of us. To be there just when we needed Him most. He made His pursuit of us a full-court press and eventually we both accepted His advances and fell deeply in love with Jesus. For me it was about 14 years ago, right after my second miscarriage. This was news to the boys, who had asked if we had wanted more children. For Eric it was about 11 years ago, on the road to Bucyrus, a small town in Ohio. The boys listened intently as we shared the ways God had made his presence known to us.
We shared our church history and of course, the older boy had questions about our girls being baptized Lutheran. With so many opinions about which denominations have the right doctrine and which don't, it was funny to have them wrestle with the notion that this couple they think are pretty cool could have come from such a suspect religious background!
As my husband and I sat on one couch, with his head in my lap as I ran my fingers through his hair, the boys sat on the opposite couch, with their legs touching, and began to tell us the story of how they met. It was precious to hear how God brought them together through a random Skype call with the younger boy's mom who invited them both to their family home over Spring break. It was during that trip that their affection for each other grew as they read the book of Galatians and recovered from some really deep hurts.
It's interesting to me that they like spending a Saturday night hanging out with us. I so appreciate their company, the ways they teach us, and the chance to pour into their lives. They really are curious and seem genuinely interested, especially the younger boy. The older one has known us longer and much more intimately, and knows bits and pieces about us already. I'm also not sure he's as naturally curious as the younger man.
Eventually, Eric got up and as he usually does, he kissed me and went up to bed. The older boy has gotten used to his sudden and sometimes unannounced departures so he didn't really blink an eye. And then the conversation turned once again to the topic we have covered over and over since the beginning of summer: predestination, election, or whatever other name you call it. As always there was contention. There was lots of discussion. There was a lot of agreement.
One side quoting a lot of scripture. Even accusing the other of not believing the Bible because of the numerous references to "the elect" and "predestination" that in his mind make it all so clear. The other trying to reconcile the character of a loving God with One who would choose to send some of his creatures to eternal damnation. And one person just trying to mediate the conversation and ensure everyone feels honored and heard. And so the debate continues. A recurring theme for the ages.
It was a typical night at the Pierces. Lots of food. Good conversation. And a good old fashioned debate on a Biblical issue. I wouldn't have it any other way!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)