Moving Mountains & What If Questions

During church, we were doing an illustration about moving mountains.
"God will move the mountain if we're willing to put in our shovel," Pastor Rob explained.

To demonstrate this, the entire congregation got up in an unorganized communion-style line and proceeded to the front where we used a playground shovel to move some sand from a litter-box like mountain to a new box.  It was actually really powerful.

While we were in line, out of my peripheral vision I saw this kid flailing.  I didn't think much of it because I grew up in a church with a lot of (sometimes unruly) kids.  You learn to ignore them.

"Katie."

I turned.  Those flailing legs belonged to my favorite six year old.  When I turned and opened my arms, my buddy took a leap of faith and jumped into my arms.  I talked to him a bit as we walked to the front of the church, but he wasn't interested in conversation.  He just wanted to be held.

I think it's illegal to walk like a normal person when you are carrying a child.  We danced down the aisle.  Yes, I danced in a Baptist church.  And I didn't care what everyone else thought.  I was focused on my buddy.

We got to the front of the church and I shifted him to my right hip.  He shoveled his sand, and I did the same awkwardly with my left (nondominant) hand.

I went back to my seat, (temporarily) kidnapping Buddy.  He worshipped with us for the rest of the service.  I don't know that I've ever worshipped with a young child without his/her parents in the same pew.  It was weird.  Cool weird!

After church, our "Self Imposed Minster of Coffee" caught me.
SIMC: I saw you got yourself a child today.
Katie: I did!
SIMC: Where'd he come from?
Katie: He kind fell from the sky and into my arms.
SIMC: No, really, whose kid was he?

What if we were willing to take a leap of faith and jump into the arms of God? 
What if we just allowed our Abba Father to hold us, to carry us?
What if we danced like no one was watching?
What if no opinions mattered except for the Lord's?
What if we were willing to be used to move mountains, even when it's awkward and uncomfortable?
What if we shared our pew with others, even if it's a bit strange?
What if our posture and attitude change with God's presence in our lives?

When I was carrying my buddy, I no longer mattered.  Everyone wanted to know where the random kid came from.  As a Christian, I no longer matter.  I want everyone to know about God.

Going from "Katie the college student" to "Katie the college student carrying a random child" was an obvious change.  Is the change from "Katie that girl" to "God's daughter Katie" as obvious?  What if people saw that kind of change in me?  What if they asked where it came from? 

It fell from the sky.  It was all God.
<>< Katie

What have you read?

As I was running late to class, Amber sent me a text message.  "What have you read today?  It's for a class."

I left her a long, rambling voicemail that went something like this,

"I read a chapter in Lipstick in Afghanistan, a handout for class, fifty pages in a textbook, blogs, a letter of recommendation that waived my right to see but the professor gave me anyway, emails, facebook updates, um... the caf menu... um... I haven't read my Bible yet but will before the day's over."

It was 3:00 in the afternoon.  I'd gone to three classes, eaten breakfast and lunch, submitted my last graduate school application, played badminton, harassed Evan about his bland office, and five minutes earlier I had single-handedly kept my suitemate conscious.  (Unfortunately, "Saving lives and getting to class on time" could become a blog series... she's much better now but it was a scary afternoon).  It had been a busy day.  But I hadn't spent any time in the Word.

As I write this, it's 11:30pm.  Guess what I still haven't done today?

Yeah, that nearly-completed blog-post is going to have to wait until tomorrow.  I've got an important appointment to fulfill a promise.  Actually, two promises.  One to Amber and one to the Lord.

There are days when getting into the Word is the last thing on the to-do list and prayer seems like a waste of time.  I have a lot of those days, I'll be honest.

But I'm slowly learning to push through.  I try to read the Bible even though I'd rather be reading be reading a fiction novel. I try to pray even though I'd rather be in conversation with my (not dying) suitemates.

To an extent, that's normal.  There is a fine line between establishing a healthy habit, persisting even when you're "not feeling it" and going through the motions.  Find that line.  Persevere.  Even if it feels a little insincere.

"What we call insincerity, God calls obedience." - Jonathan Martin  "Sometimes God's doing the most profound changing in your life when you don't feel His presence but you keep showing up."

Keep showing up.  Even when it's hard.

Ok, for real now.  "Today" has become "yesterday" and the book of Exodus still calls. 

Friends, what have you read today?

<>< Katie

Thriving in Exile

"Take off anything you're wearing that has any value, monetary or sentimental," my small group leader Natalie announced.

The faces of six freshmen girls expressed confusion as we obediently began to remove necklaces, belts, and ear rings.

"Take off your jackets.  Your sweatshirts," she continued.  I'm sure if she could have stripped us down to our underwear, she would have just to prove her point.  She did once come to small group in a bathrobe to demonstrate Isaiah's walking around naked for three years (see Isaiah 20).

"We're going into Babylonian exile," she explained.
"Should we bring our Bibles?"
"Your what?"

She then led us out in a January icy drizzle while she played the role of the Babylonians and we were the Israelites.  When we began to shiver, she let us back inside.  Ironically, she accidentally tripped on the sidewalk symbolizing the fall of Babylon.

Looking through the Bible, there are a lot of people who experience exile.  Personally, I've never spent a significant amount of time being oppressed and exiled.  Unless you count being a Lutheran in Baptist Country.  They're usually nice to me if I keep my mouth shut about alcohol and original sin, but let's use it as an example.

I heard a speaker the other day talk about exile.

"The question is not 'Why are we in exile?' or 'How do we get out of exile?'" he explained.  "The question is, 'What is God up to in exile?'"

What is God up to in exile?

What is God up to in your life, wherever you may be?  Sometimes there are things God needs to do in your life that He can only do while you're in exile.

Some Biblical examples of exile show the strengthening of faith while being removed from that which is comfortable.  Here in Baptist Country I've been forced to contemplate and question why I believe in infant baptism, why I don't have a problem drinking wine, and that whole in-with-and-under thing (that I'm still working on).  Things I probably would have simply accepted forever had I not been sent here.

When Daniel experienced his exile (see Daniel 1), his name and the names of all of his friends were changed.   Daniel became Belteshazzar (please name your son that).  Hanniniah, Mishael, and Azariah became Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  Their Hebrew names celebrating God's faithfulness were replaced with pagan names.

My name too was changed.  My often mutilated three syllable last name has been axed to two letters.  A pagan name; a murder weapon.  Rack, Shack, and Benny let that one go.  As have I.  To some, I will forever be only Katie Ax.  I think I'm ok with that.  Like Rack, Shack, and Benny, I have to pick my battles.  I'd much rather people realize I'm still a Christian than know I have a whole last name.

God has done (and is doing) some cool things here in my exile.  He even pulled me through a near-hypodermic small group experience.

What's He doing in your exile?  What's He doing in your life right now?

<>< Katie

PS: If you know my whole last name... do NOT post it in the comments section or I will delete your comment.

Saving Lives and Getting to Class Ontime

Last week I donated blood for the second time. My appointment was at 12:15 and, naturally, they were running behind.  Even with my scarlet letter "A" (for "appointment"), 12:30 came and went.  Taylor was sitting near me as I complained about being so close to getting to class on time.  He said he had a 1:15 class, too.  We didn't think we were going to make it.

Ms. Red Cross called for an appointment and I leaped to my feet.  Then she changed her mind and called a walk-in instead.  Taylor got to go instead.  I made a snotty comment about being angry if he made it to class on time and I didn't.

"What time's your class?" a professor sitting nearby asked.
"One fifteen."
He looked at his watch: 12:35.  "You're probably not going to make it."

I said I'd give them five more minutes before I left and came back after class.  The only trouble with that was having to eat again and healthy mid-afternoon snacks don't exist here.

In that five minutes, a man called for the next appointment.  I jumped up and literally ran to the computer station.

"Are we having fun yet?" he asked.

I told him about my class and he gave the clock a skeptical glance.  It was going to be tight!

"Don't pass out on me."

I assured him I wouldn't... hoping I could stay true to that promise.

We sped through the identification questions as fast as we could.  To the point where he almost asked my temperature before taking it, like I was supposed to know it off of the top of my head like my height and weight.

When I gave him my height and weight, he looked away from the computer and met my eye when he repeated it to confirm.  I'm dangerously close to the limit.  I know that.  It's a generic weight limit not accounting for different heights.  Which means I'm technically still over the limit even though I'm five eight and have the body of a microphone stand.  (Shaun Groves said that).  I was prepared to argue that I did not have a problem donating last time.

"Listen, you're very close," said Mr. Red Cross.  "I don't care if you're late to class.  When you're done, you're going to sit at the cookie table for at least ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."  Honestly, if you're going to be put in time out, the cookie table is the place to do it!

"I'd rather you pass out here than on the asphalt outside."

Thanks for that encouragement, buddy!

In the interest of time, he read the questions aloud to me rather than letting me answer them privately.  I think there were only 15 questions that would have made Melissa giggle.  I speak fast, but this man could give me a run for my money!  By the time we got to pulse and blood pressure we were in the middle of a marathon!  Yeah, not exactly what you want when you're having your blood pressure taken.  (Even if he had to inflate the cuff just to keep it on my arm).

“Are you nervous?  Your heart rate’s fast.  Don’t be nervous. I’m pretty good at this,” he said.

I wasn’t really scared nervous.  I was time nervous, anxious, and excited.  I was a big mess of emotions; no wonder my blood pressure was high.

However, having your blood moving fast does come in handy when you’re having a it stolen from your arm.  The actual donation, like everything else that day, was super sonic speed!

"Utto," Mr. Red Cross said.
Yeah, that’s never a good thing to hear when you’ve got an IV in your arm! He tried to fill up the test tube and it wouldn’t fill properly.

“You already took all of my blood,” I teased.

“And I’m going to take a gallon more,” he said.

“Do I get extra cookies for that?”

“You can have as many cookies as you want,” he said.

A few more jokes (“This won’t hurt me a bit.” “Two fingers on the booboo. Yes, that’s the medical term.”) and I was free to go to cookie time-out.
I looked at my watch: 1:02.

God is good! He gave me my ten time-out minutes to eat cookies, inhale water, and be interviewed for the newspaper.  I still made it to class on time!

In my interview, I was asked why I donate blood.  Like my buddy Jesus, I answered her question with a question: why not?

Then I explained–I had been the queen of excuses. I didn’t weigh enough. I had a cold. I left the country.

And once I got over that, got over myself, I took the plunge and tried it. I loved it.  The first time, I kind of felt like I was being rushed through and I was there for a longer amount of time. The second time, I was there for a shorter amount of time but Mr. Red Cross took the time to tease me, answer my questions, and truly care for me.  It made a huge difference!

It’s a simple, financially painless way to give of yourself and make a huge difference. Sure, hurts a bit, makes you look like a druggy who loves Sharpie, and makes you feel a little weird for a few days but with the lives saved, it's worth it.  I’m genuinely disappointed I’m leaving the country before I’m eligible again. But my April 2012 to do list: donate blood.

If you’re eligible to donate, why not?

<>< Katie

Just One Shirt

All of the best ideas come from a "What if?" question.

"What if we went dorm to dorm asking people to donate one shirt to homeless shelter?"  Keith asked at dinner.

The idea exploded and on a Saturday afternoon Nikki, Keith, David, Ryan, and Wes wandered around campus with two plastic buckets for their "Just One Shirt" drive.

They walked dorm to dorm knocking on every door encouraging residents to find one item in their wardrobe that they don't wear.

Personally, this was a challenge.  If I don't wear certain clothes, they're at home.  I don't have the space to have superfluous stuff here.  I did find one shirt I don't wear--a yellow coffee shop shirt that makes me feel like I'm in my pajamas all day.

They gathered a car trunk and backseat full of clothes--it's approximately twelve trash bags full of clothing!

It was also part of a school-wide service project campaign where the three best service projects won $100 each.

Another winning project (the most creative project) was a hall of students who went to the nursing home and asked the residents to make Valentines Day cards for the children at the children's home.  Then, they went to the children's home and asked the children to make Valentines Day cards for the nursing home residents.

The Just One Shirt campaign won most spirited.  Get this: their $100 is going to support a Compassion International child for this month and for his birthday.

What if we all gave one shirt?  What if we were all servant-minded?  What if?

<>< Katie

Have Pen; Will Travel

My life ends in May.

Or at least my calendar ends in May.  In May, I will walk across the stage to receive a hard-earned diploma, but I have no idea where I'm going to walk when I descend the stage.

I'm praying by then I'll have it all figured out.

Today I started filling out five graduate school applications to study creative writing.  I've been told getting a masters in creative writing is like getting a masters in violin: you're never going to use it.

Thanks for the encouragement!

The person who told me that went on to explain that I should do it because I love to write and I want to get better.

So I'm throwing caution into the wind and applying to MFA programs in five states around the country (only one of which have I ever visited before).

On tomorrow's to do list is updating my resume and applying for writing and editing jobs all over the country.  So if you know anyone that needs a writer/editor, I can probably hook you up with a good one!

The next day I'll apply for hobo positions in mid-sized cities.  Does anyone have a shopping cart I can borrow?

As I was mulling over these options and moping, I was having a nice facebook conversation with Casey.  She provided the traditional suggestions: Have you considered journalism or teaching?  Yes, thanks, and, no, I'm not interested.

She also provided me with some encouragement, said she was praying for me, and sent me on my way.  It helped.

That night, as I was going to turn off my iPod off, "Peace Be Still" by Rush of Fools began to play.

I didn't sign.  I didn't sing.

I sat cross-legged on my bed and let those words wash over me as God sang His daughter to sleep.

Come to Me, you who are weak.

Let My strength be yours tonight.
Come and rest, let My love be your bed
Let My heart be yours tonight.

Peace be still; peace be still.
Please be still and know that I AM God.
And know that I AM God.

Come empty cup, let Me fill you up.
I'll descent on you like a dove tonight.
Lift your head, let your eyes fall into Mine.
Let your fear subside tonight.

Peace be still, peace be still.
Please be still and know that I AM God.
And know that I AM God.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah...

The line that hit me the most was, "Please know [in your heart] that I AM God." I know that He is God.  I know that He has it all figured out.  I know that I don't have to know.  But that doesn't give me peace.

Please know in your heart that I AM God.

<>< Katie

Writer's Notebook entry dated 12-30-10.
Update 1-20-11: Four of the applications are now complete, the resume is updated, Dad told me I'd make a good hobo (what the heck does that mean?), and the oldest working iPod known to man has since died (August 3, 2005-January 13, 2011).

Relational Obsession

Allyson, Amy, and I were sitting in the food court zoning when Allyson turned to me.

"The world is so obsessed with relationships!"

Her comment caught me off guard.

"You know," she continued, "like if you're single you're told you're not worth anything.  And if you're in a relationship it's the best thing that has ever happened to you.  I bet that's a way satan uses to distract us from God's love!"

Woah!  That was way too deep for my hazy brain.  As I regained full consciousness and began to process her words, I decided she is absolutely right!

I'm single.  But a disgusting amount of time is spent wondering and day dreaming about my future husband and family.  I spend a lot more time yearning for what I can't have rather than embracing the unfailing love that was graciously given to me.

Allyson wasn't done.  "And if that one relationship is the best thing that ever happened to you, what about all of your other relationships?  Don't they matter?"

Recently the loss of a close friendship has left me mourning and dejected.  But what about all of the other flourishing relationships in my life?  Don't they count for anything?

Sure they do.  But they aren't the one completing relationship.  The one we girls think a man can fill.  The one, truthfully, only God can fill.

Allyson's thoughts were spurred by a music video I wasn't watching.  I looked up at the end to see a mother and father playing with their two sons by splashing each other in the ocean and jumping on the bed.  It was really sweet.

I hope to one day have that.  But until then, can I embrace the love of God given to me?  When I do have my own family, will I still put my joy and hope in Christ?

Right now, I honestly don't know if I can answer yes to both of those questions.  Maybe that's why I'm single.  There are still a lot of things for me to learn before someone else can walk into my life.

<>< Katie