“That is enough,” he replied. – Luke 22:38b
Today is Holy Thursday. Maundy Thursday. The night when Jesus took the bread and the cup and said, “Take, eat, this is my body and my blood, broken and poured out for you.”
I have a leg of lamb cooking in my crock pot in the basement of my dormitory. Tonight, after the church services are over, five of us will gather in a tiny apartment around a slightly unstable wooden table and participate in the Seder. We are Christians, Gentiles. This is part of our history and tradition only because we have been grafted into the family of God by the salvific work of Christ, who adopted us as children, as co-heirs. We will eat the lamb and taste the bitter herbs. We will drink the kosher wine and speak Hebrew from the Haggadah. Together we will remember God’s faithfulness to his people in the Exodus from Egypt.
We will celebrate the Passover and we will weep on Good Friday and rejoice on Easter morning, for the work of God done a little under 2000 years ago was enough to save the world.
I got word today that my father did not get the job offer he was expecting to get. He is currently employed but is miserable and unsure of how much longer his company will continue his employment. After weeks of interviews, after being flown across the country to meet with the company, he got word that they were hiring someone else. The job that he thought would help secure his personal happiness and our family’s financial security will not be coming.
I expected to feel fear and trepidation at this news. I am sad for it, yes. But I am not fearful. For those who know me, being fearless when it comes to finances is not something I’m particularly familiar with. And yet, as I got off the phone with my mother who could not conceal her tears from me even from a distance of 3,000 miles, I felt no fear.
“I can’t believe that God is going to provide,” she told me. “I just can’t.”
I told her that I had enough faith for us both and shocked myself when I discovered that was true. God will provide for my family as he has provided for us since the very beginning. We hope that provision includes a new job that arrives in the nick of time that pays well and makes my father happy to do the work, but provision may not look like that.
The people of God expected the Messiah to arrive on a mighty steed, full of strength and fury and power. Instead, they received a carpenter born out of wedlock and in a manger, a Messiah who would die, scandalous and cursed upon a tree.
The disciples did not expect Jesus to die. For that matter, they did not particularly expect that he would rise again three days later. But he did die, and he did rise, and though it came in a form that none expected or would have ever wished for, mercy came.
And it was enough.
—
Filed under: Uncategorized
I’d previously decided that I didn’t wish to review this past year – mostly because it was pretty painful towards the end and I didn’t wish to dwell on it. But I like having these sort of things as a barometer. Markings of where I’ve been. So here goes.
1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
Moved away from home. Crossed the second half of the country by myself. Stayed in hotel rooms alone.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn’t bother making any last year. I’m terrible at keeping them.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Dave and Becca had Audrey Kate Bonavich, a sweet little girl already growing into her philosopher’s scowl.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No. Bad news was received, but God can still heal. Bold prayers are still breathed.
5. What places did you visit?
In order: Yosemite, CA. Tucson, AZ. El Paso, TX. Austin, TX. Dallas, TX. Lonoke, AK. A town I’ve already forgotten in Tennessee. Blacksburg, VA. Bernville, PA. Boston, Massachusetts.
6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
Self-discipline. And maybe a little more cash.
7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
February 11th – I was accepted, after a second try, into Princeton Theological Seminary.
August 9th – Found out that Dave had cancer.
August 30th – I drove away from California for good.
October 10th – Somewhere around this date I fell in love (too quickly) with my now ex-boyfriend.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Moving on to the next stage of my life – new state, new school, new people, new life.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Dropping the ball entirely at the end of the semester, regardless of the reasons behind it.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I had an ear infection at the beginning of the year and tonsillitis in the late fall. Heartsick intermittently throughout the year as well.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
Probably my Macbook, though I kind of want to say my crochet hooks.
12. Where did most of your money go?
Room and board. Textbooks. And the WaWa (late night sandwich/coffee/Mountain Dew runs).
13. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Getting into Princeton – I screamed so loud when I got my electronic notification that I terrified my roommate into thinking something horrible had attacked me in my bedroom.
14. What song will always remind you of 2009?
Carry On My Wayward Son by Kansas. Possibly Styx’s Renegade.
15. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder?
Maybe slightly happier. Life prospects look different now than they did then.
b) thinner or fatter?
About 30lbs thinner. Still got a lot more to go.
c) richer or poorer?
Pretty much exactly the same.
16. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Writing. Crafting. Taking pictures. Laughing. Going on long walks. Kissing.
17. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Hiding in my room. Putzing on the internet.
18. How did you spend Christmas?
The celebration: with my immediate family. The official day: by myself at a beach in Balboa.
19. Did you fall in love in 2009?
Yes.
20. What was your favorite TV program?
Favorite new show was Glee, though Supernatural held the tip-toppiest slot.
21. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
No. I generally don’t hate people.
22. What was the best book you read?
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. Quickly followed by Home (same author) and Widow for One Year by John Irving.
23. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Josh Garrels. Closest I get to listening to “Christian” music.
24. What did you want and get?
A new life.
25. What did you want and not get?
A new self.
26. What was your favorite film of this year?
I’m trying to think of the movies I saw this year… I almost never watch movies. Either Iron Man or The Dark Knight, probably. Weird. Both of those are superhero movies.
27. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I had a small party at my apartment with some of my closest friends. I turned 24.
28. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
The completion of a more tangible project.
29. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
Comfortable. California business-casual. Eventually inappropriate for new climate and snobbier clothing standards.
30. What kept you sane?
Crocheting, reading, small furry bunnies and an extraordinarily geeky internet fandom.
31. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Jensen Ackles. Mrowr.
32. What political issue stirred you the most?
I was relatively apathetic this past year. Prop 8 in California probably stirred me the most, but was that in 2008?
33. Who did you miss?
Jack. The people back home.
34. Who was the best new person you met?
I’ve met some really special people in the past four months. Ranking them hardly seems necessary.
35. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009.
Wanting something to work doesn’t mean that it will, wanting someone to love you doesn’t mean that they can and discovering who you are supposed to be is far more important than becoming what you’ve always wanted to be.
36. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
Driving through the countryside, strangers wave as I go by
I finally see I’m gonna be ok.
Don’t know when I’m home again, I might just be pure light by then
True unity is one less day away.
And that’s it, folks.
Real posts coming soon. Honest.
—
An exercise in two parts.
Home. Noun.
the place where one lives; the place where one was born or reared; a place thought of as home; a household and its affairs.
Written June 23, 2009: Ontario, CA
Home. Noun.
An old oak tree in a bed of flat stones – one low branch perfect for sitting. Finding that you know all the inside jokes. Ten-year-old spots of black paint on bedroom carpet. The familiar curve of a bathtub. The constant hum of the freeway. The dog-eared pages of a book whose binding has all but worn away. A library to whom you owe two books sixteen years overdue. Being slightly more at ease. Being slightly less at ease. An empty lot with a decade-old sign declaring the future location of a church. Stepping over sleeping brothers to get at fresh eggs and pork roll on Christmas morning. Being unable to get away with anything. Being unable to be anyone new.
Written November 30, 2009: Princeton, NJ
Home. Noun.
A comfy bed at times not wide enough, at times not warm enough. The constant tapped warning of a crosswalk. Leaves crunching in abundance under your feet. Old books on a new bookshelf. A freezer that refuses to actually freeze anything. Sleeping ten feet from where a personal hero preached his very first sermon. Warm smiles greeting you from an ancient doorway. New faces who tease you about the same old things. Great debates held over trays of crappy food. Walking everywhere. Wanting to walk everywhere. The opportunity to be someone new. Discovering that you don’t know how to be.
—
I am exactly seventy days into my seminary career. That’s approximately two months and two weeks (give or take a few days on either side – don’t judge me for my math skills). I am two and a half weeks away from finals (16 days to be exact) for the long Fall term.
I have a confession to make.
For the past seventy days (give or take a few days on either side) I have been bored.
Really, really bored.
I have, in large part, done this to myself. I entered seminary with an undergraduate degree in theology. There is not a required intro survey class available to me that would not have, to some degree, had a strong element of “been there, done that” to it. During the first week of orientation, I made the decision (that would later prove to bite me hard in the butt) not to advance place out of said survey classes. On top of that, I opted to take the Survey of Medieval Church History course as well, which was on the recommended Junior schedule on the PTS website, despite having taken a class with its exact title and two classes whose materials overlapped the subject matter and time period during undergrad.
Why, oh why, did I do that to myself?
One: I wanted to take the same classes my fellow Juniors were taking, that I might further connect to my incoming class.
Two: I wanted to go easy on myself for what I imagined would be a difficult transition into life on the east coast and seminary life in general.
Three: I seriously underestimated my ability to be really freaking bored.
As a direct result of me being really bored, I have become extraordinarily boring. Something has switched off in my brain here and I am no longer actively seeking ANYTHING. I do not learn – I have ceased trying to learn.
This? This is my “I am not ok with this state of affairs” face. (I have many faces.)
So internet, I am changing things.
Be on the lookout.
An adventure has begun.
Upcoming posts on: the so-called feminization of the church, the dominance of gender issues over theological issues (ie, can we talk about something other than my uterus for once, PLEASE?), and photo-posts from my east coast explorations (of which there will be MANY).
—
Filed under: Uncategorized
This is my second-t0-last night in California and as a special goodbye present, the tri-city area caught fire again for old time’s sake. I will not miss seeing huge puffs of thick, black smoke pouring over the foothills from my bedroom window. Maybe a bit on the nose, though, if Mother Nature was looking to give me a metaphor for my leaving.
Tomorrow is my last Sunday at the little church I grew up in, and they’re sending me off with a small dedication during the service.
I know that excitement will come, eventually. Probably when I’m on the road and heading eastward to the dreams I’ve had since high school. But tonight I am filled with trepidation and a deep, soul-rocking sense of “miss”. I will miss leaving Todd and Monica’s house (like I did tonight) after an evening of raucous laughter, my friends and I dispersing into the night through their impossibly dark front lawn. I will miss holding my bunnies tight and burying my face into the sweet scent of their fur, tiny warm kisses on my nose. I will miss inside jokes and slips of the tongue and smiles and tears and pulling into my parents’ driveway.
I will miss.
And tomorrow I am saying goodbye to the people who have been my second family for a long time running. I am saying goodbye to being instantly comfortable with the people who know and love (or lovingly tolerate) my idiosyncrasies. To people who KNOW me. Who GET me. Who read my face and know what I’m thinking, who know when to smack me because I am making dirty jokes in my head because of something innocently said.
I have wanted to leave this state since I was 12 years old. And now I finally am. I can’t stay; I have to go. I can’t turn my back on all the things that are waiting for me out there on the East Coast.
My head is pushing me forward, but my heart will not stop screaming that it doesn’t want to leave.
—
Filed under: Uncategorized
A/S/L?
24.
Female.
California. Soon to be Princeton, New Jersey.
So now that that’s out of the way…
My blog name is a little deceiving. For that I apologize. I will not officially be considered a seminarian until the middle of September when classes start at Princeton Seminary. I do promise, however, that I am still a hippie. Have been since birth, raised by two former hippies (now relatively conservative) and read countless “environmentally friendly” books as a kid.
Living green is hard in a relatively small, terribly drafty apartment with no recycling plan to speak of. I’m starting to realize that we are rarely able to live up even to our own expectations, so I use my heater and drive my truck (terrible gas mileage) and try to remember that God forgives even the sin of bad earthly stewardship.
I’ve been told that I am something of a walking contradiction (but then, aren’t we all?). Despite my hippie leanings, I’ve still managed to adopt for myself a pretty conservative theology. I’m a confessions-loving, TULIP-touting, 5-Point-clinging Calvinist and got my undergrad degree in theology from a conservative Lutheran university (that thought I was a smidge too liberal) but have softened a bit as I’ve come to realize that the Body of Christ is much, much larger than I’d originally believed.
You know, one of my best friends is an Arminian. (Not to be confused with Armenians, who are a wondeful and fun-loving people.)
I’m socially liberal (mostly), theologically conservative (mostly) and don’t really fit well quite anywhere, so I’ve stayed in the church I grew up in (the PCUSA). I’ve found it easier to be conservative in the PC(USA) than to be liberal elsewhere, so here I am. I love tea, fair trade coffee, vegan food (totally an omnivore, though) and Rainbow sandals. I drive a Ford Ranger (complete with an Indiana Jones hat on the antenna) that I will likely never trade in for anything.
My bookshelf is full of Calvin, Augustine, J.C. Ryle, C.S. Lewis, Dorothy Sayers and Sherlock Holmes. I’m a West Wing and Supernatural fanatic (among other shows – I have a problem) and thought Harry Potter was FANTASTIC and not at all demonic. I love fresh daffodils and long conversations about the Atonement. I think seminary costs too much and do NOT like the direction that the church is headed. I worry for our planet and I worry for our world, but I place my trust with Jesus Christ.
And if any of that interests you, stick around for awhile. Enjoy the ride.
I know I will.
—-
