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Handwritten letters bring encouragement

2009-06-07T02:25:00.002-05:00

I love writing thank you cards and I also like getting them. And not just thank you cards, but also encouraging cards, the ones that make me smile as I walk out of the mail room.

Every time I receive a scribbled note of encouragement in the mail, I treasure it until I'm forced to throw it away. If it's a truly special card, I'll stick it to my mirror or prop it up by my bed. Letters or notes I'll stick in my Bible or journal.

Periodically, my mom sends me a card in the mail with a clipping of my published column that I put in my portfolio. I always look forward to the little message she writes inside the card. Sometimes, it's a funny story, a verse that's been on her heart and in her prayers, Sometimes, she just wants to let me know that she misses me.

Unfortunately, the art of writing long-hand notes is becoming lost.

Most people write cards and notes out of obligation and that saddens me. Now, an e-mail, text message or Facebook message will suffice.

But I learned this year that letter-writing may not be as lost as I thought.

The year before I enrolled, a student at my college took note that the art of letter-writing can have an impact on a person's life. This student also saw that the women on campus needed encouragement from their fellow brothers in Christ. As a brother of the women, this particular student collaborated with other male students who had a passion for affirming their sisters.

And the Barnabas Brothers was born. Barnabas means "Son of Encouragement," which comes from the fourth chapter in Acts. Every month, they write a personal letter to each girl on campus (about eight letters for each guy). The letters include a verse and encouraging words that let the girl know that she is being prayed for and that someone cares about her.

When the letters are distributed, the Barnabas Brothers decorate the women's lounge (usually in a theme during holidays) or put together bags of candy and goodies for each girl. Some months, the girls receive flowers, hand-made Valentines or a treasure chest full of Skittles (my favorite).

And no one knows who these men are.

They decorate undercover. They have a "runner" who will mail the cards or set up the station where the cards will be distributed. they meet in an undisclosed location. Whoever these men are, they reassure us women that they are praying for us each by name and that they are trying to become godly men in the midst of an ungodly culture.

These are the letters I look forward to the most. I'm always astounded by the neat handwriting and the tone of genuine care for me. And it's not done in a creepy, stalker sort of way, but out of pure passion to see the women grow and mature in their faith.

I may never know who these men are, but it's comforting to know that not all is lost when it comes to handwritten letters and men who deserve more than a thank you.

Summer is not what it used to be

2009-06-07T02:16:00.002-05:00

Summer is the best time of the year. I get to be carefree, class-free and cafeteria-free, while spending my afternoons soaking up the sun instead of listening to lectures. I wait all school year for the summer to arrive.

But this year, I decided to go from full-time students to full-time employee.

Having a full-time job isn't new for me. When I worked for the Colby Free Press, I worked 30 hours the first summer and about 40 hours the second summer. But living away from home and working full-time for the summer is a new experience, and it's taking some adjustment.

After getting kicked out of the dorms (students can be fined for every 15 minutes they remain in the dorms after they are closed), I moved into my tiny apartment that I share with three other girls.

I spent the weekend shopping for groceries and supplies so I could be ready to go to work on Monday. Up until now, I never needed to buy things like cooking pans, spatulas or Tupperware. I always figured that's what bridal showers are for. I had neglected to consider the ramifications of not living at home for the summer and prior to marriage.

As I purchased my canned goods and microwavable plates, I realized that summer isn't what it used to be.

Six fifty-five came Monday morning and it was time to start my 8-hour training for custodial work. I harnessed all my strength to resist coffee and headed out the door to make the 2-minute walk to work.

Instead of sleeping in until 11 a.m. like two of my roommates, I watched videos on asbestos, blood-borne pathogens, how to not fall off a ladder and other cleaning-related information. Training lasted two days before we could begin our cleaning assignments. For some reason, I felt like I was still in school.

At the end of day two, I was unsure of what I had gotten myself into, but I have been unsure many times. As I get older and continue to create new "normals" in life, I have watched God push me to new limits. I guess since I have succeeded before, he wants to challenge me to keep climbing.

But uncertainty creeps into my life too often, making me wonder if perhaps I should have just perched myself on a steady branch.

Uncertainty can be the enemy of trusting. When I don't trust that God is carefully holding my life in his hands, I am a miserably stressed, lonely human being.

I remember several days ago, sitting in the realization that I wouldn't be able to go home for Memorial weekend. Going to school over 1000 miles away from home never bothered me as much as it did at that time. I felt sorry for myself for a couple days then realized that self-pity wasn't helping me feel any better. I told God that I needed strength to make it through the summer.

I then realized that I actually enjoy my job. Sure, scrubbing bathroom floors and cleaning heating vents with Q-tips is less than glamorous. But I like the people I work for and the people I work with. My crew is three girls and three guys. All are diligent and complain-free coworkers, who put a smile on my face every morning when I walk into the meeting room.

More often than not, it's the people that determine whether someone is going to enjoy his/her job or not. I thank God for these people.

Even though my summers will never be what they used to be, I intend to make the best of them, to squeeze joy out of each day and to praise God for every opportunity that will push me to new heights.

Quirky taste of Portland

2009-06-07T02:05:00.002-05:00

Before I moved to Portland, I knew that it was quirky. Portland has its own culture and flavor shaped by its community and the places these people have created.

But once I immersed myself in Oregon's Rose City, I learned that quirky is only the beginning.

For example, my boyfriend and I went on a date the other night. Dates for us usually include dinner somewhere and relaxing with coffee and dessert at our favorite coffee shop, Ava Roasteria.

Not only does Ava serve amazing coffee and desserts, but it also has an elegant set-up with a waterfall wall by one entrance and an outdoor fire-pit at a second entrance. Another waterfall that flows into a narrow river outlines the porch area of the cafe. The porch has covered tables, as well as a few near the fire=pit that will actually keep me and my friends warm during cool nights.

So far, this place may not sound quirky; it's the people Ava attracts that make it quirky. Ninety percent of the time, Ava is crowded with bikers and Asians and Asian bikers. I don't know what it is about Ava that brings these people in by droves, but it's normal to see lines of motorcycles in the front parking area.

Perhaps it's just me, but leather-clad bikers and trickling waterfalls don't go together. I don't mean to stereotype, but it's true.

Before Ava Roasteria, however, my boyfriend and I wanted to spend our date at one of Portland's quirkiest restaurants, Le Bistro Montage. It's located in the East Industrial district, which is a nice way of describing the sketchy part of Portland. The restaurant is under a bridge where many homeless people sleep, but it's favorite place for Portlanders.

People crave The Montage for its trademark macaroni and cheese. Order it with chicken or sausage and it will taste even better. The menu ranges from a frog leg appetizer to rock shrimp pesto linguini and alligator jambalaya.

And make sure to have left-overs or order food to go so they can wrap up the food in one of their signature foil creations. I got my left-overs in a foil rose once.

Maybe mac and cheese or frog legs aren't meeting your desire. Maybe you're feeling like doughnuts. If that's the case, check out Voodoo Doughnuts in downtown Portland. They feature doughnuts I could never imagine, like the Grape Ape with vanilla frosting and grape powder. Or try the Triple Chocolate Penetration that has a chocolate glaze and cocoa puffs. They even have vegan doughnuts in a variety of flavors.

Or perhaps you want to get hitched. Voodoo Doughnuts does weddings (supposedly they're legal), and they will make a cake out of doughnuts to match your theme.

Quick disclaimer: I have never been to Voodoo Doughnuts. I guess having "Voodoo" in the name of an eatery kind of creeps me out. This place also attracts a--well, a diverse crowd, and I've been warned that it's not an ideal place to hang out., I simply see it as a Portland staple that adds to the city's quirkiness.

Voodoo Doughnuts isn't for everybody. Neither is Le Bistro Montage or Ava Roasteria. And that's what I've come to love about Portland. There is something here for everybody.

Sure, I don't agree with everything that Portland accepts and encourages. But I do see God working, like at Solid Rock's church service on Friday nights where over 1000 college students come together to study the Word of God.

To me, that's pretty quirky.

Running as a life-training tool

2009-06-07T01:57:00.002-05:00

The weather was cool, but the sun warmed the air as my feet hit the soft ground covered in bark dust.

I was running for the third time this school year. It's a feat I can't boast much about, but I have to start somewhere. I know once I get into it, I will really enjoy it. And I know that being in shape is actually a great feeling. So I intend to make running a habit, a resolution that begins now and ends indefinitely. That is my hope, anyways.

The sky began to cloud over and I was sure that the rain would start coming. I felt a few sprinkles, but I was sweating so I didn't mind.

I've never been much of a runner. The idea of competing in cross country running has honestly been repulsive to me. Why would someone do nothing but run for miles? And just for fun or perhaps a little medal? I was a walker. I didn't even mind fast walking. Just don't make me run, I would say.

I continued running, trying to count trees and the poles along the fence. I felt lunch sloshing around in my stomach and regretted that I didn't wait longer for my foot to digest.

To my advantage, I'm in the best place to get into shape. Portland is one of the healthiest cities in the nation, which is probably a result of it being one of the best cities to bicycle. Even within the city it has hundreds of hiking trails that are great to use for running, as well. A tennis court is located beside my campus and a golf course with a public jogging trail is a few miles down the street. Therefore, I am without excuse to not be in shape.

As I dodged trees, mud and other running companions, I knew I wasn't the only one who was struggling to get to the end of the fence.

Every Sunday morning as I make the 30-minute drive to church, I see people of all shapes and sizes running down the sidewalks along the street. Some are running at a fast rate and in long strides. Others are struggling to make their legs move at a jogging pace. I see young people and I see very aged people. but at least they are trying. They are all aware that being in shape and taking care of their bodies is important to a healthy lifestyle.

I allowed myself to slow down to a walking pace. I came up to a patch of flowers, picked a fluffy, gray dandelion and blew out the seeds.

It can be hard to slow down, especially in the city. Everyone is always focused on getting somewhere as fast as possible. In working out, it is particularly difficult to take things slow and not overwork the body. Since I had a neck injury several years ago, I can hardly put any strain on my neck without giving myself a headache. So working out can be frustrating since I have to go slower and take it easy than most people.

I finally saw the end of the trail. I told myself to push just a little bit harder and run as fast as I could to the end. I wanted to finish strong.

Not only do I intend to finish each run as strong as I can, but also each school year, each season of life and every experience that has shaped me into the young woman I am today. I may not always enjoy every minute of it, and sometimes I'll feel sick and want to quit. but if I don't even try, I won't know what I'm missing. One of my favorite authors says it best: "May [God] quicken those who have not yet begun to live this life to see what they are missing, before it is too late."

Turning waiting into proactively waiting

2009-05-07T00:20:00.003-05:00

As surprising as it may sound, I'm still learning how to wait.

I don't know what it is about waiting, but by being unable to control situations or direct certain outcomes, I have learned a lot about myself.

First, I don't trust people. Second, I don't trust myself. Third, I'm an impatient person.

Waiting started when I began to piece my summer together. I had gotten a full-time job on campus like I wanted, but there were still some things up in the air.

In particular, I was waiting to hear back about a sales associate job at Eddie Bauer, a casual, outdoor clothing store. Even though the job would be only 10 hours a week, getting a 50 percent discount made the job appealing, and I could continue to work there during school.

I felt that the interview at Eddie Bauer went great, but they informed me that they had over 100 applicants. Having no retail experience, I assumed I wouldn't get the job.

But then the assistant manager who interviewed me called about a week later, asking if I was still interested in the job. Immediately I said yes, not really thinking about another opportunity I had that would affect not only my summer, but also the following school year.

And that brings me to some exciting news.

The monthly student newspaper, called The Voice, needs an editor for next year, and the editor is going to be me. I would say that it's an honor to be given such a position, but the truth is that I am the only journalism student with enough experience and who is willing to do it.

The editor position means that I will lead class sessions during the Newspaper workshop class, which is when the staff meets to discuss the next issue of the paper. I will train students in photography, design and help them enhance their writing skills. I will also assign stories, write a column for every issue and pick up the slack, which will be the majority of my job.

Not only will the editor position be a nice touch to my resume, but the position also comes with a scholarship. Since the job will require at least 40 hours of work during production week, I'm taking only 12 credit hours worth of classes.

Even though being in a leadership position scares me, I am excited to take on a role that will challenge me. Delegating jobs isn't something I normally do. I tend to be more of a follower than a leader. But why settle doing the things I'm comfortable doing.

So, with much sadness and disappointment, I turned down the Eddie Bauer job. It's good to know that they wanted me, but who am I kidding? I would be bringing home only new clothes and not a paycheck.

And with working 6-7 days a week, there would be no time to put together the first issue of The Voice, which, as the editor, I must do all by myself.

So what does this have to do with learning how to wait?

Well, I learned that there's more to waiting than just sitting there and waiting for everything to fall into my lap. I like to call it proactively waiting. Instead of putting my hope entirely in getting a job on campus, I applied at other places, which heightened my chances at getting a job somewhere, anywhere. I had Plan B, C, D, and I was working on Plan E and Plan F.

I also didn't wait for the journalism professor to approach me about being editor of The Voice. I knew she needed someone to take on the job, so I told her I would be willing to do it.

To extend this even further, I didn't wait for a loving, respectful, Christian boyfriend by sitting in my room with a Bible in my lap, hoping he would knock on my door and ask me for a date. Our love for God and for people moved us to action. We prayed and served people. It was the first thing we noticed in each other.

Basically, we collided while doing what we love to do. And I have to say that it was a beautiful collision.

I know waiting can be frustrating, especially when there is no end in sight. But proactively waiting can make it all worth it.

An alternative method to sleep deprivation

2009-05-06T12:46:00.003-05:00

As much as I love doing homework, taking tests and eating in the cafeteria, I'm ready for a break.

I have three weeks left of my first year at Multnomah University. This means that my week of finals (known as dead week to many students) is in two weeks.

Finals week for most students means all-nighters, coffee or other caffeine-related beverages, piles of junk food to last throughout the night and a long playlist on their iPods.

As beneficial as this may sound, I know from experience that it can be more detrimental than good.

I remember my first semester in college when I took World Civilization. Even though I like learning about history, I am by far one of the worst test-takers I know. It's not that I can't remember facts, dates, people or places. But if a teacher gives me a piece of paper covered in questions and he labels it a test, I'm a failure.

Knowing this about myself, I was more than apprehensive about the final exam. When it was two days away, I realized that I needed to do some serious cramming. So within two days, I studied for 16 hours, going without a break for eight hours. On top of that, I was normally getting 4-5 hours of sleep at night.

When it came time for the exam, I felt only somewhat prepared. Actually, my attitude was more like, "All of that studying better pay off!"

I got a solid D.

I could point out several flaws in how I approached that test, but let me give another example.

The following semester, I took a class that required a 12-page exegetical paper (prior to class, I didn't know what exegetical even meant). The day before it was due, I still had over half of the paper to write. I decided, along with other fellow students, that I would spend the whole night finishing the paper.

This time, I got an A.

Unfortunately, my body suffered for the next few days. My head pounded and my body felt wasted due to sleep deprivation. My hands were shaking from an overdose of caffeine. My eyes were dried out and blood shot. And my stomach hurt from sporadic and unhealthy eating choices. I was incredibly miserable.

If you still don't believe me, here's a little story about one of my professors. Instead of taking care of his body during his college years, he overloaded his body with caffeine and slept so little that he now has a mechanical valve in his heart. Though he is a brilliant man, having written books and well-known in the Evangelical Theological Society, his body suffered too much in college. And now he has to pay the price.

So what is an alternative method?

I have discovered something that I believe is the most important, healthy and effective approach to a week of final exams: Sleep. And not just from 3 am to 6 am. I mean at least 7-8 hours of sleep, nine hours being an ideal amount of sleep for young adults.

Several benefits come with getting a good amount of sleep at night.

First, it improves memory. In fact, it's good to study right before you sleep because your mind will make connections, process facts and help you remember things.

Second, researchers are discovering that getting quality sleep can reduce a person's risk of being overweight or even help lose weight. That's because sleeping will balance hormones that affect a person's appetite. Not sleeping can disrupt the process.

And third, if you find yourself struggling to stay awake, take a short nap. On the few occasions that I get only six hours of sleep, instead of drinking a cup of coffee, I lie down to get refreshed and re-energized. It helps me clear my mind, which is another key factor to doing well on exams.

I'll review: Sleep, nap, clear your mind.

Now doesn't that sound better than a pounding headache and blood shot eyes?

It's all Greek to me...or is it?

2009-04-27T16:42:00.002-05:00

English has always been easy for me. And I don't mean speaking it, but writing it, diagramming it, making it rhyme and making it sing. There are endless possibilities to what can be done with a wide vocabulary and a little bit of an imagination.

But what I love even more is learning foreign languages. I didn't realize this until college, though. Somehow, I had escaped from taking any foreign languages in high school. And, honestly, I was afraid of learning Spanish. I didn't want to sound incompetent or, frankly, an idiot if I wouldn't know how to translate phrases like, "May I please use the restroom?"

I also didn't think learning a different language would be easy for me. I was good at English. I liked it and it liked me. It was a great relationship.

But when I began college in Tennessee, I was informed that my major, Mass Communications, required four semesters of foreign language. Choosing from French, German, Spanish, Greek or Hebrew, I decided to go with Spanish. I was sure college Spanish was going to be levels beyond high school Spanish.

Fortunately, I was wrong. I did have to study, but the concepts always seemed to click in my mind. And I was really good at rolling my "r's," which helped my confidence level even more.

And then I decided to transfer to Multnomah University in Portland, Ore., where a foreign language is not required for journalism students. At first, I thought, "What a waste. I attempted to learn another language for nothing." The college only offers a beginning Spanish class, which I had taken already, so there weren't any foreign language classes to take as electives. Well, there weren't any that I knew of, anyways.

When it came time to register for spring semester classes, I noticed a class called Intro to Biblical Languages. The class would cover the basics of biblical Greek and biblical Hebrew as well as biblical language tools. The objective is to enhance Bible studies. I never had a strong desire to learn Greek or Hebrew, but curiosity compelled me to register for the class.

The first half of the semester would be Greek and the second half Hebrew. I'll admit that I was intimidated in the beginning, especially when the syllabus read we would be learning to read the Lord's Prayer out loud. We also would have to master the alphabet. That phrase, "It's all Greek to me," had a whole new, personal meaning to me.

Soon, we were debating over Jesus' usage of the word "love" in John 21 where he asks his disciple Peter three times, "Do you love me?" In Greek, "phileo" and "agapao" both mean love, but have different meanings. Jesus used both in John 21. We were trying to figure out if there is significance in Jesus using "phileo" when first asking Peter, "Do you love me?" then changing to "agapao" at the end.

That is a typical class for us. Whether we were reciting the Lord's Prayer or figuring out the function of a genitives, learning Greek was intriguing to me.

And just when I was getting used to Greek, it was time to learn the basics of Hebrew. Simply learning the Hebrew alphabet made me miss Greek. I found myself frequently saying, "It doesn't look like Greek to me." And I never felt so far from the English language.

First, Hebrew is read from right to left, unlike Enlish where we read left to right.

Second, Hebrew letters look nothing like, well, letters. The majority of them are very boxy and the tiniest stroke can completely change a letter. I felt like a kindergartner the first time I tried to copy the letters on paper.

Third, since the Hebrew language used to be completely consonants, vowels were added later to help make reading Hebrew easier. Vowels are combinations of little dots and lines that are placed above and below the letters. This means that not only do you read right to left, but also up and down like a wave.

Fascinating, isn't it?

I probably won't ever master Greek or Hebrew, but I can already tell that my tiny bit of knowledge has changed the way I view the Bible. And this may not help my journalism career, but if you want to know why "Aleph," "Beth," and "Gimel" are in Psalm 119, I can tell you.

Stress reminds me how to find rest

2009-04-27T16:30:00.002-05:00

When I told my boyfriend that I never stress, he responded as he often does to the sarcastic things I say. He burst out laughing.

Like I said, I was being sarcastic. I know that I stress over the small details and the life-changing decisions. It's an unhealthy habit that I am always trying to overcome.

So why the stress?

Well, the reason comes with some bad news. I am not returning to Colby for the summer.

Instead, I plan on working in Portland until school starts up again in the fall. I have had this plan ever since I began school last fall, but was unsure of how I was going to make that happen.

Especially since the unemployment rate for Oregon is at 12 percent. Firing is the new hiring when it comes to employment.

So, with a month left of school before the dorms close and I get kicked out, I was feeling a little stressed.

I had applied for a job on campus well before spring break, which was the last week of March. The college hires crews for the summer for custodial, grounds keeping and painting. I knew this kind of job would be the best option since the college allows its summer employees to live in its seminary apartments across the street. That means no gas to get to work.

Also, the job is 40 hours a week, Monday through Friday, from 7 am-3:30 pm, at $8.50 an hour. It's a perfect schedule for taking online classes, which is my second plan for the summer.

But after handing in my application, several weeks went by and I still had heard nothing from the managers. My boyfriend advised me that I should start applying elsewhere.

So, I did. I looked all over the surrounding area for openings--restaurants, department stores, malls. Not much was coming up.

My stress level began to increase. And since I am still on my caffeine-free diet, I had nothing to go to that would ease my anxiety.

But I did. I read Psalm 27:14, which says: "Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD."

I don't mean to turn this into a devotional, but as those words sank into me, I exhaled relief. I felt like my soul was at rest. Even though I didn't know what the summer would look like for me, if it was going to be what I hoped it would be, I was assured that everything would fall into place--somehow.

Then last week, I found a job opening at Eddie Bauer, which is located in a mall that is five minutes from school. I even managed to get an interview. It's a weekend job, offering 10-15 hours per week at $8.50 an hour (not to mention great discounts on the clothing). It was perfect.

And then the day before my interview, I received a call from the custodial manager on campus. He said that he would love to have me join his crew for the summer and asked if I was still interested in the job. I later found out that two of my close friends got jobs on campus, as well.

I'm still waiting to hear about a job at Eddie Bauer, but whatever the outcome is, I'm already at peace about it. And I'll remember what one of my professors said: "Waiting is God's test for his greatest choice servants." I hope I pass.

Pink mist strikes again

2009-04-27T16:14:00.002-05:00

I must confess that the pink mist has infected me.

Remember the pink mist? If not, let me remind you. Pink mist is invisible and infects students on campus with romantic feelings for each other. It's extremely contagious. No one knows exactly how the pink mist works except that the spring weather, the blooming cherry blossom trees and the sunny afternoons have something to do with it.

But first, let's back up to last fall since that's where my infection--or perhaps, affection--started to develop.

I moved to Portland to go to college for three reasons: One, to study the Bible; two, to study journalism; three, to develop strong, lifetime relationships--with females.

My agenda included no dating. Studying, coffee dates with girls and getting involved in church ministries were the plan. And it worked great. I was happy and excited by all of the new experiences, the change of pace, the friends I was making. Life was a joy.

And then I met him.

I don't remember our first official meeting, but I do remember taking notice of him at the all school retreat. He was nice and had a smile that could change the lines of anybody's frown. And his laugh, his infectiously loud laugh that lets people know he is in the room before anyone can even see him. He has broad shoulders like my brothers, stands at 6 feet, 2 inches, green-blue eyes, brown hair. And that face--I couldn't help but be attracted to him.

The girls I was hanging out with knew him from last year since this was the second year for all of them. The girls told me about the time they called him, begging him to come over to kill a spider. He likes rescuing people.

We still didn't know each other very well after the retreat, but we always seemed to run into each other on campus. We most often saw each other during the evenings in the library where we would talk between studying.

Our first connection came from talking about our families, how much we value and love them, which extended to our relationship with God, our shared passion for music and human trafficking, what we want to do after we graduate.

Sometimes we would talk until the library closed. Eventually, he started walking me back to my dorm, and though a friendship was starting to develop, nothing really happened between us.

That is, until our mutual friend started teaching a ballroom dancing class. We both had done swing dancing in the past, but that was the extent of our dancing experience. We were really excited about the ballroom dance class and seemed to always gravitate towards each other when told to choose a partner.

Our mutual friend then started dating another friend we shared and before long the four of us were hanging out on a regular basis. For the next seven months, life has been the four of us going out to coffee, a Friday night Bible study, ballroom dancing and movie nights.

And my friend and I were getting closer. It was only mid-November, but we could no longer ignore what was right in front of us. We finally had a DTR (college ling for a Define The Relationship conversations) while eating an espresso ganache chocolate cake at a trendy coffee shop, though he didn't seem very hungry (which is extremely unusual for him).

"What are you thinking?" I asked him out of genuine curiosity. There was a long pause as he set down his glasses and avoided eye contact.

"I'm thinking that I really like you," he finally said.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

As the conversation progressed, I learned that he really really liked me and I let him know that I liked him, as well--but was not ready to date at that point. He said he would wait until I was.

Four months later, my parents and younger brother came to visit me for spring break, which was at the end of March. They also came to meet my friend. We spent a few days at the Oregon coast, relaxing and letting my family get to know my friend.

On the third day, we decided to drive down to Tillamook, which is about 45 minutes from where we were staying. My friend asked my parents to ride with him in the car. He then asked them if he could date me.

"Yes, we like you. Of course you can date her."

"YES!" was his reply.

So maybe it wasn't the pink mist that infected me, but the result of friendship and allowing God to orchestrate us coming together. And though dating wasn't on my agenda, I can still say that life is a joy.

I kissed coffee goodbye

2009-04-27T16:03:00.002-05:00

I fell in love with Starbucks coffee at first sip.

I don't remember when our first meeting was, but I will always remember the first time I entered that cafe. The sweet smell of coffee beans and syrup, low lighting, folk music playing softly in the background--it had my heart at the initial taste of that white chocolate mocha.

Unfortunately, I was unaware of where my relationship with coffee would take me.

See, this caffeinated beverage has always been there for me. When I'm feeling depressed, tired, uninspired or bored, coffee is just around the corner. Also, it's always available when I'm excited, motivated, blissfully happy or if I just want a means to socialize. I can always count on coffee.

But since our first encounter, I have developed an unhealthy relationship with coffee. I often cannot function without it. My friends have pointed out how dependent I am on the caffeine that gives me a boost of energy. They also say I am suffering physically through the headaches I seem to constantly be dealing with.

Coffee is also draining my account. I don't have the money to support my relationship with coffee. Even the regular house brewed coffee is a daily subtraction of a few dollars every day. And if for some reason I have cash on my hands, I immediately exchange it for coffee.

Really, I'm not the most coffee addicted, binge drinker. Voltaire, one of the leaders of the Age of Reason, supposedly drank 50 cups of coffee a day. Compared to him, I am doing pretty good.

But after much convincing, encouragement and a bit of bribing from my friends, we came to an agreement: Coffee and I need a break from each other.

So far for the next month, I am detoxifying my body from caffeine, specifically coffee. Thirty days of a caffeine-free diet. No more white chocolate mochas, caramel macchiatos or cinnamon dolce lattes. No more walking into the campus cafe at 7:50 am to order a house brewed coffee.

And if I want a coffee-date, I'll have to order a caramel apple cider or something called a steamer. Or I'll have to drink herbal tea, taking in its dissatisfying, jolt-less ingredients.

Not only that, I am banned from taking certain kinds of medicine (some contain caffeine that amounts to two cups of coffee), eating chocolate or drinking black and green teas.

Basically, I am going cold turkey.

At first, it sounded like it would be doable. But then the side effects of withdrawal started to kick in. According to medical experts, symptoms include headaches, tiredness/fatigue, decreased energy, decreased alertness, drowsiness, decreased contentedness, depressed mood, difficulty concentrating, irritability and feeling foggy, all of which describe my last few days.

I know it's not easy to give up something you truly love. But if there is something that is hindering your body, your relationships, your way of life, it's time to re-evaluate its position on your priority list. And kiss it goodbye.

Hiking paints a picture of friendship

2009-04-27T15:42:00.003-05:00

I mentioned in my last column that my college frequently cancels classes so that we students, faculty and staff can spend a day focusing on God, praying or serving those in our community.

Wednesday, March 11, was one of those days. Twice a semester, we have a Day of Prayer. We pray and worship corporately in the morning and can have the rest of the day to continue praying or find a creative way to dedicate our attention to God.

My group of friends--there are five of us--have begun a ritual of hiking after each Day of Prayer. Looking at God's beautiful creation compels us to worship Him. The peaceful trails open our hearts so we can hear Him. And the rocky places, overrun paths and tricky climbs bring me, Katie, Kim, Tom and Jordan closer together.

So far, Multnomah Falls, located right next to the Columbia River Gorge, has been one of our favorite hiking destinations.

Multnomah Falls is the second highest year-round waterfall in the nation, dropping at 620 feet from the top of Larch Mountain. It also boasts to be one of the most romantic locations in Portland. Pull up an image on Google and you will see why. A stone bridge extends above the lower part of the waterfall and gives a breathtaking view of the Gorge as well as the massive plummet of water into the spring pool. From the top of the falls is an equally impressive view of the Columbia River Gorge.

Our first visit to the falls consisted of only hiking to the top, which is a half-mile hike. This time, we decided to take on a bigger challenge. The trail to the top splits with a path going to the lookout or miles of more trails that cover Larch Mountain. There are also a few loops located on the mountain. We chose the loop that has several waterfalls and a handful of lookouts along the trail, taking us hundreds of feet above the top of Multnomah Falls. The loop is also 5.2 miles long.

When the day arrived, we were more than ready to hike new territory. We packed our lunches, filled our water bottles, grabbed our cameras and headed down Interstate 84 to Multnomah Falls.

We also had piled on layers of clothes. Extra clothes for warmth were essential. It ended up being a cloudless day, unusual for Portland at this time of the year, sending rays of sunlight into the cold air. However we knew that the sun would not be enough to thaw the trail, which we anticipated being covered in snow near the summit.

We arrived at about 1 pm, and even though the espresso stand looked very appealing, I knew it would be waiting for me by the time we returned.

We actually started at the return end of the loop. We were told the ending of the trail would give us a gradual incline, much different from the winding, steep trail at the other end.

As we made our way up the mountain, we passed by icicles hanging off cliff edges, walked over wooden bridges, some of them demolished by the rushing river that always seemed to be quietly roaring in the background.

We were over anhour into our hike when our trail started becoming sprinkled by little piles of snow. We were used to the trail having its slippery places, but snow had started to completely cover the trail, making those icy parts hard to spot. Having someone slip and fall was the last thing we wanted to happen, so taking a hold of each other's arm or hand became a habit. This method of linking us together also helped when the trail would become steep and difficult to climb. We were basically pulling each other up, extending our strength to the next person to make it easier to climb.

Later on down the trail, Katie mentioned that hiking is so much easier and more fun when she is with a group, instead of by herself. Katie and I started to realize that our helping each other on the difficult parts of the trail was a picture of friends helping each other through the hard times in life. If someone starts to stumble, we should take immediate notice so we can catch them before they hit the ground. If at some point life is too hard to handle alone, we should be there to help that person make it through safely. If one of us starts going down the wrong path, we should tell that person to stop and turn around.

Without realizing it, we had painted a picture of what it means to truly be a friend, to be there for each other when it matters. But even when it doesn't matter, we are still there for each other because we want to be.

The birthday party that almost wasn't

2009-04-27T15:31:00.002-05:00

I like to make a big deal about birthdays. I love combining birthday cake, balloons and banners to create a memorable day for my friends. I may not always be the best planner or able to throw a party of unparalleled proportions, but my friends always appreciate my effort.

So on Feb. 28, my friend turned 22 and I decided that I wanted to give him a surprise. My plan was to have his roommate kidnap and blindfold him, throw him in my car then my three friends and I would drive to the beach. We would stop at one of the best cafes on the northwest coast, then build a campfire on Cannon Beach and roast hot dogs and marshmallows. It was going to be a great 22nd birthday!

But then I realized that I can't keep a secret. I had told my friend to be ready for "something" at 3:30 pm, but it was 3 and I still had to buy all the campfire supplies. So I was in the grocery store, feeling stressed that I was not going to get back to school in time when I realized that I don't like keeping secrets from my friends, and whenever I need help, I usually call him. How was I supposed to plan a major event without his help? In a panic, I called him said, "I can't do this! I need your help!"

I finally got everything prepared and was waiting for my friends to get ready to leave when another friend of mine informed me that it was supposed to rain at the beach. In fact, there was an 80 percent change of rain. She said we should start thinking of alternative ideas.

Our first thought was to go to Mt. Hood, which is only 45 minutes from campus. We would hike up a trail, have a snowball fight then drive to our friend's house in Boring (yes, that is really the name of the town) to build a campfire in her backyard.

We soon learned that going to her house was not an option since her mom was doing some remodeling to the house.

Our next idea was to go to the house of another friend, who has a hot tub and a fire pit in his backyard. That was definitely an appealing idea. However, his mom was ill and very contagious, so she didn't want company at her house.

Denied again.

Every other option seemed incredibly lame compared to a day at the beach, a snowball fight in the mountains or relaxing in a hot tub for the evening.

We finally decided to give the beach a try and packed in preparation for getting rained on. Blankets, rain boots, a change of clothes, plenty of lighter fluid and we were ready to go.

Once we arrived at Cannon Beach, we went straight to Bella Espresso, which is without debate the best cafe on the northwest coast. It was starting to get really dark outside, so the thought of sitting around a crackling campfire moved us to the beach.

Surprisingly, it was still not raining, but it was fairly windy. We found a place that was guarded from the wind enough for us to build the fire. Everything was going smoothly, which I was thankful for, until one of the girls said that she needed to use the bathroom. Normally, finding an available restroom is no problem, but Cannon Beach has only one public restroom and the restaurants do not particularly like tourists using their restrooms if they are not going to eat there.

By the time we got to the public restroom, a young man who had just finished cleaning the restrooms came out, locked the door and said, "Sorry, it's closed for tonight."

We had not luck in finding another restroom. As a last resort, we got into my car and drove to the next beach city, called Seaside, which was about six miles away. We finally found relief at a convenience store.

Fortunately, the rest of the night went smoothly. We arrived back at the campsite on the beach, a fire blazing and our stomachs grumbling.

I really thought the night was going to be a disaster, but it wasn't. It didn't even rain, despite the 80 percent change. I remember telling my friend, who is now 22 years old, "I really think God knew it was your birthday, and that I was planning on doing this." It's good to know that God cares about the little things, even birthdays.

To live the fearless life

2009-02-26T17:06:00.002-06:00

My college is a little different. With it being a Christian college, its focus on the Bible is strongly emphasized, perhaps even more so than many other Christian colleges I have seen.

For example, the school administration cancels classes once a semester so that students can devote their day to praying. The school will also use Martin Luther King Day to send students into the community to serve the local people. Also, as a requirement for graduation, students are to be involved in a ministry (church or school-related) every semester, giving us practical experience in serving people.

Therefore, student life is so much more than academics. It's so much more than making good friends or even finding a future spouse. It's a place where students are taught how to live and how to live with no reserves, no retreats and no regrets.

This week, classes were canceled for the annual Global Missions Conference. Every year, missionaries from all over the world come to the college campus to educate students about their work in other countries. Many have spent an extensive amount of time in another culture. They come with knowledge and experience from their field of work. And they are anxious to recruit students who have a heart for meeting the spiritual and physical needs of people in foreign cultures.

To be honest, the week has been overwhelming. The presence of so many opportunities to change the lives of people felt like I was being pulled in 100 different directions.

Devote your life to the African people. Serve military families. Befriend the Muslims. Teach English in Indonesia. Design web sites for this organization.

How does one choose what to do?

I entered this college with the desire to refine my journalism skills and to learn how to study the Bible and apply it to my life. I entered the conference with a passion for freeing victims of human trafficking (specifically those in sex slavery). I am in the middle of the conference and the path I must travel until my death is slowly coming into view.

No reserves. No retreats. No regrets.

This concept has a tone of fearlessness. it tells me that I must choose my path wisely because I might not be able to turn around or find my way back to the crossroads. Choices have results, some of them including consequences. What am I willing to live with?

I heard a pastor once say, "God may not be preparing you to not live here someday." It's a scary thought, but I'm allowing myself to be open to the idea. Sure, it's hard enough being over 1000 miles from my family (who are thankfully just a phone call away). But if Nepal is where God is directing me, I cannot object and I will not object.

During the conference, we learned about a man named William Borden. At 16 years old, he traveled through Asia, the Middle East and Europe, and quickly developed a burden for the world's hurting people. He had a desire to be a missionary, a desire that only grew throughout his study at Yale and his graduate work at Princeton Seminary in New Jersey.

Though he came from a wealthy family (he was to inherit a million dollars), he counted it all as a loss and gave it to those who needed it more than he did. Those who knew Borden described him as "the stuff that martyrs are made of." He inspired the complacent, tenderly wrapped his arms around the untouchable and changed the lives of countless hurting people.

According to The Yale Standard (fall 1970 edition), Borden was determined to devote his life to the Muslims in China. After he graduated from Princeton, he was on his way. During his journey, he stopped in Egypt to study Arabic, the language of the Muslims, where he contracted spinal meningitis. Within a month, William Borden was dead. He was only 25 years old. Yet on the flyleaf of his Bible, he had written: "No reserves. No retreats. No regrets."

I love my college. I love the friends I have made and the hours we spend in the cafeteria or the cafe discussing possibilities for the future. We don't know what the future will look like exactly, but we have our hopes and dreams. And now we have the example of William Borden.

How now shall we live?

A legacy that will be missed

2009-02-20T11:27:00.002-06:00

I didn't know him, just of him. Yet his death has left me pondering about this unavoidable escape from life.

Like I said, I didn't know him, but I still felt sad when I received an e-mail that informed us students that Dr. Joseph Aldrich, third president of Multnomah, had died. I was sad for those who did know him, who were affected by his teaching, his faith and his way of life. And I was sad for those who didn't--like me.

Thankfully, I have not had to experience the death of loved ones in my family much yet. The most recent death was my grandpa, my mom's dad, in 2006. Its unexpectedness made it painful. Every event in one of our lives, no matter how small, makes us wish that he could be here again.

But lately, it seems that death has been crouching at the door of those dear to me. It makes me pause during my everyday busy schedule and thank God for them.

The father of one of my friends found out several weeks ago that he has cancer in his colon and liver. He's the pastor of my friend's church and the congregation was devastated by the news.

Since the cancer is in about 80 percent of his liver, they cannot operate. And finding a donor can take years. Her dad doesn't have that long to wait since chemotherapy will only shrink the cancer. The doctors have given him seven months to two years to live.

To cope with this new challenge, my friend does her best to go on with life, knowing that her dad wouldn't want her to stop her life just because his probably will soon.

Another close friend of mine, whom I have mentioned in previous columns, has a heart problem, and the doctors can't figure out what is wrong. The brown-eyed 19-year old is tall, not bulky and has a laugh that can be detected 100 feet away.

He often faints, sometimes without any warning, because the pain in his chest is so unbearable. His body will convulse from the pain and his lungs will let out screams. We don't really know what to do except hold his hands, tell him it'll be over soon and pray. If we talk to him to get his mind off what's going on in his body, the attack will go away--but not always. He usually faints so we sit there and wait until he wakes up.

My friends and I have often wondered how much longer his body can handle these attacks since they are becoming more frequent and more intense. We want answers. We want to help. We do what we can and make sure that he knows that we will always be there for him, no matter how bad it gets.

I guess that's the scary thing about death. We don't know when the inevitable will come. So we have to make sure that we're ready for when it does come.

The announcement of the death of Multnomah's Dr. Aldrich is posted on the University's blog with comments from students and friends filling the page.

A comment by a student read, "His legacy is part of my identity. Another said, "I have [a] small simple frame I keep on my desk that I unabashedly kept from Dr. Joe's desk. It reads:

I Surrender my Life into the hands of God,
knowing He has predestined for me His best.
I will count the cost and by God's grace
I will pay the price to become the best
that I am capable of becoming.
I will hold to my course
and by the power of the Holy Spirit,
I will finish strong.

Yes you did Dr. Joe, yes you did."

I hope I do, too.

A scientific study on the effects of pink mist

2009-02-20T11:15:00.002-06:00

We have been warned. It's going to come eventually. Professors, staff, faculty and student have seen what it does to other students, so they are doing their best to prepare us for what is about to come.

They call it pink mist and it comes only in the spring. This mist, which is invisible, infects students on campus with romantic feelings for each other and can be extremely contagious. Fortunately for those wanting to resist the pink mist, it's easy to spot those who have been infected.

Couples are walking to class hand in hand, eating at the "date tables" in the cafeteria, studying under the warm sun on a soft blanket or at a picnic table. They have deep and meaningful conversations on the DTR (define the relationship) benches that are positioned between the women's dorm and the men's dorm. The girl fidgets with her key in front of the entrance to her dorm, looking longingly into the eyes of her beloved.

Those are the symptoms only for new lovers. For those who are in more serious relationships, it's all about getting a ring by spring.

The women's dorm is filled with anxious girlfriends who are waiting for an upgrade from girlfriend to fiance. And when the moment a girl comes home from a night of blissful romance with a diamond on her finger, the dorm erupts with screams, squeals and cheers. It's truly priceless entertainment. Then she spills the what and where and when and why and how it happened. And it is always so sweet and so cute and so romantic!

It's only Februrary but two of my friends are in relationships. Maybe they were infected with a different dorm of pink mist since it's not officially Spring, but the talk of engagement is by far at the forefront of their minds.

One couple has been dating for almost a year. She tells me that she's been "wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and prayin', plannin' and dreamin' each night of his charms." For encouragement, I tell her, "All you gotta do is hold him and kiss him and squeeze him and love him. Just do it and after you do, you will be his."

Ok, not really. But she really is hoping a proposal is in the near future. And by near future, I mean two weeks. I sure hope he knows this.

Another friend of mine is currently enduring the absence of his girlfriend as she is in Germany volunteering at a camp for military kids. My diagnosis is that the lack of seeing her face on a daily basis is causing him to realize that he cannot live a day without her; or perhaps, he would rather not live a day without her.

I captured the turn of his thinking when I saw him reading 105 Engagement Ideas. He was frequently nodding with a big grin on his face. He quickly looked up at me. His smile contorted into a grimace.

"I need a job!" he blurted out to me. "I-I don't have any money. I don't have a place to live. I have nothing to offer her." He was deeply distraught. "But I know she's the one!"

I assured him that being poor is synonymous with being a college students. After all, we attend Multnomah Bible College (and we all know that any Bible college can easily be translated into Bridal college).

When the pink mist does hit campus, I don't know what's going to happen to these two friends of mine. I don't know what's going to happen to me.

Although, truth be known that I--well, I'll let you know what happens.

Sunny day brings story about persecution

2009-02-05T19:46:00.004-06:00

It was a perfect day to play tennis. I hadn't played for over two months because it was either raining or too cold. But I can feel that spring is just around the corner and I can hardly wait.

Sunshine was pouring through my window that Wednesday afternoon, so I pulled out a book to read. It's actually not for school. Or even a book club. In fact, it's not even a romantic novel or a book from the best-selling Twilight series (a vampire love story trilogy) that most people would find in the hands of a girl.

It's called "The Pastor's Wife" by Sabina Wurmbrand. She gives a first-hand account of what it's like to be persecuted for being a Christian in Communist Romania in the 1950s and 60s.

What's interesting about this book is that I forget that I'm not reading a story about a concentration camp survivor of the Holocaust. The similarities are compelling. As the country celebrated the end of the second world war, those who appeared to be a threat to the government were arrested without reason. Thousands upon thousands experienced torture as the rest of the world experienced freedom.

Sabina Wurmbrand (a Jew converted to Christianity) has become someone whom I greatly admire. Her amount of faith is rare in people today. Her love for God, which was beyond the love she had for her husband and son, is even more unheard of.

She recounted a scene that has been on repeated in my mind ever since I read it. The government was summoning a meeting to be held in the Parliament building. They were calling it a Congress of Cults. Every confession and religion was asked "to send a big delegation."

When the evening arrived, some 4000 bishops, pastors and priests, rabbis and mullahs were in attendance along with the top Communists. Stalin was chosen as the honorary president of the Congress. Each priest and pastor took to the stage to give flattery and lies (also known as propaganda) to the people, praising the government for their "freedom of religion."

Sabina had heard enough:

"Will you not wash this shame from the face of Christ?"

Richard knew what would happen: "If I speak, you will lose a husband."

At once I replied--it was not my courage, but given to me for the moment: "I don't need a coward for a husband."

He sent up his card. The Communists were delighted.

Richard was arrested off and on since that scene, but he eventually vanished. His wife spent months looking for him, asking friends and relatives, going from jail to jail. He never seemed to be "on the list."

Sabina was eventually arrested, as well. The fact that she didn't do anything was far from the conscious of the Secret Police. She was the wife of a pastor; religious people always have a political agenda, which made the Communists paranoid.

She continued to look for her Richard at each prison. Police said he had pleaded guilty to treason. Interrogators told her he was dead. But she knew in her heart that he was alive and was sharing the love of Christ with other prisoners. That thought kept her own body and spirit alive.

They were separated for 14 years. And though she was released years before they were reunited, she refused to divorce him or replace him with another man.

Richard was imprisoned and tortured during those 14 years, while spending three of them in solitary confinement. His only human interactions were with his torturers.

Why am I reading a book with these chilling descriptions and stories of unimaginable hell?

Well, why does anyone read? We want to learn, to be inspired, to let our emotions be moved in a way that's beyond daily life. Reading these stories makes me value each day, every moment and makes me smile. They make me appreciate my life.

As I walked to my first class that morning, I was so happy that I did not have to wear a jacket to shield myself from cold or rain. Soon, I would be able to wear dresses to class.

And then the words of Sabina came to my mind: "Perhaps, when your heart is so unhappy about your new dress, which you need, remember your sisters, in rags, hungry, beaten, put to shame by the Communists. Pray for them and praying for them thank God for all you have. And learning to thank God your heart will be blessed and will be happy and you will be a blessing to those around you."

Writer evaluates her love for writing

2009-01-29T23:08:00.003-06:00

Every now and then, I have to ask myself the questions: Why do I write? What is my goal? Who cares?

These questions come to mind every time I write, "A Moment with Michelle."

As I begin to write my weekly column, I picture my readers like they are someone I am having coffee with. We're at a coffee shop, one of those local, offbeat ones with antique lamps giving off a soft lighting. The music is subdued as the murmur of customers and the fragrance of coffee beans drift through the air. And I can hardly wait to taste that sweet, smooth, steaming liquid.

I love going to these kinds of places with a friend who needs someone to listen to them. we order our drinks, select a table and after a few sips, we open our hearts to each other. Sometimes we allow our hearts to spill over. Other times we give the other person only a taste of what we are going through, often because we don't even know how to describe what we are thinking and feeling.

That's what I imagine when I sit down at my laptop, usually with coffee at my side, as I begin to write. Whether it's my weekly column, a blog for my website or a simple note to a friend, I like to think that I'm having a conversation with someone.

I write because I have something to say.

But so far, I have met only a few who enjoy writing as much as I do. When I wake up in the morning, it's one of the first things I want to do after I finish getting ready for the day. I can't imagine my future without having the art of writing in it.

I believe it's a desire that has been embedded in me since I was born. Ever since I learned how to spell, I've submerged myself in the written word through writing stories and poems. The story of Cinderella was my favorite when I was little. I created my own version once, even including illustrated pages, except for the horses with the pumpkin carriage, which my friend drew since I only knew how to draw the head of a horse.

Today, I'm not able to do much story writing. My lack of time doesn't allow it. So I feel privileged to be able to write my thoughts every week.

People seem to be curious about what i like to write about. I've concluded that I like to write something that people will read. I like writing that people are thinking, feeling, seeing, hearing and tasting.

"People read today to learn what and when and who and where, but they also read to discover why and how and what it will mean in the future," (Memo to a New Feature Writer by Donald M. Murray).

My goal has always been to get my audience to read the paragraph after the first paragraph. If I can't get the reader to do that, then I have failed.

One indication that a person is a writer is not the sight of someone hunched over a keyboard, notebook or journal. They are the ones who are staring out the window, thinking. We are listening, observing, forming sentences in our minds, hoping they sound as good as we think they do. We want our words to be meaningful not only to the reader, but to ourselves, as well. We will agonize over facts and sentences long after we have turned off the laptop or sent it off to an editor. We want our words to say something.

I guess that's why I continue to write, even though numerous school papers need to be written, textbooks need to be read, the laundry needs done, the car needs fixed and the body needs sleep.

I write not because coffee shops stimulate my senses. I write because my heart compels me to.

School of life teaches the act of waiting

2009-01-22T11:40:00.005-06:00

Besides attending college classes to enhance my intellect, I have also been attending the School of Life to develop everyday skills. These kinds of classes don't give grades. They are pass or fail, and failing often hurts deeper than an unsatisfactory percentage. And passing is another step closer to success.

Lately, this "school" has been teaching me a lesson about the act of waiting. So far, I have learned that there are many sides to waiting. Sometimes life compels us to wait. Sometimes we convince ourselves that we need to wait. And sometimes we are waiting when we shouldn't be.

For example, as a student, I tend to perform the act of waiting. I like to make future plans that may span five or 10 years. In college, it can be easy to think that life doesn't start until we step off the platform with a diploma in our hand and we have entered the workforce. We like thinking and talking about what we would like to do after we graduate, how we want to raise our families, the places we want to go, the people we would like to be. This isn't an entirely bad way to spend our time. But when thinking about the future consumes our minds and time, it can be detrimental to the way we live in the present.

I'm 21 years old now, so I've supposedly hit the mark of adulthood. But I can easily say that I'm learning day by day and moment by moment what it means to be a true woman and a role model for the younger generation. Indeed, this will be a lifetime journey, but I can get caught up in dreaming and thinking about the person I would like to be instead of striving to become that person right now.

On another level, I like dreaming about the places I want to go and the things I want to accomplish. So often I say that I'm going to write a book, and in response, people have asked me, "So why don't you right now?" My only reply in defense is that I'm waiting to become a certain person, to visit certain places, to have experiences, for years to pass before I find the strength and ability to write a book.

But if I wait too long, my life and dreams will pass me by and I'll start wondering what I was doing while I was waiting for life to begin.

Dr. Seuss sums up this negative side of waiting in a well-known poem called, "Oh! The Places You'll Go!"

...Waiting for a train to go
Or a bus to come, or a plane to go
Or the mail to come, or the rain to go
Or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
Or waiting around for a Yes or a No
Or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting...

Sanctity of Human Life

2009-01-22T11:25:00.003-06:00

After such an historical moment of President Obama swearing into office on Jan. 20, it seems all other historical moments of the past have been overlooked. I'm not saying his inauguration should have been ignored. I believe we will see a shift in history in the following months and years.

But 36 years ago, this was a very historical time for the United States.

In response to the infamous Roe vs. Wade verdict in 1973 to legalize abortion, former President Bush declared Jan. 18 as National Sanctity of Human Life Day.

"The sanctity of life is written in the hearts of all men and women. On this day and throughout the year, we aspire to build a society in which every child is welcomed in life and protected in law," he said in his proclamation.

Though the former President was speaking about abortion, sanctifying human life can over-arch into victims of euthanasia, suicide and human trafficking in all its forms. I say this because young sex slaves have lost their dignity, their safety, their sense of value, their dreams and hope.

The more I read and the more I listen, I am becoming increasingly aware of how prevalent and pervasive human trafficking is, especially the sex trade aspect. I know I have mentioned my concern about human trafficking in other columns, but the first step to reversing this problem is awareness. People need to learn and understand what is going on. Our culture too often looks away from this issue because it's too evil to look at.

Linda Smith, founder of Shared Hope International, discussed the trafficking of minors for the sex industry on a radio broadcast I heard recently. Smith, also founder of War Against Trafficking Alliance, has gone undercover in truck stops, casinos, hotels and other places she said she wouldn't want anyone to go in. She continually searches for criminals in this way, putting her life at risk for the sake of rescuing children from prostitution.

Smith guessed there are 100,000 or more children who are being sold in the sex industry in the United States alone. From her investigations, she has found that the majority are 11-13 years old. These young, vulnerable girls, who may have just been "dreaming of a guy," are finding themselves locked into situations they never would have imagined.

As I listened to Smith talk about these young girls and what her organization is doing to eradicate sex trafficking, she mentioned truck stops often. She highly encouraged truck stop campaigns since the exchange of girls happens most often at truck stops. And that always made me flinch of I'd feel a pit in my stomach because I would imagine the trucks stop we have in Colby. We have two truck stops, in fact, and it is very, very possible that we have encountered a slave girl without being aware of it.

Maybe one of us has seen her at night, unsupervised, or we assume the man waiting for her outside the bathroom is her father. Or maybe it was that girl who couldn't look at you in the eye as you spoke to her. Or maybe she had a tattoo that would make anyone think is inappropriate for her age. All of these are signs that could mean she is a sex slave.

I'm not saying the truck stops in themselves are evil. Traffickers have just become clever and use the resources and venues that are available to them. We citizens need to be clever, as well, in order to stop these criminals.

And I would take Smith's advice in her last comment as she said, "We're just going to have to buckle down, go to war, stand on top of the evidence we have and fight. And, you know, this is worth fighting. They don't get my grandsons. They're not getting my granddaughters. And I don't want them to get yours, either."

Young people need vision and passion

2009-01-08T12:15:00.002-06:00

I'm not much of a morning person, so as a part of my daily morning routine, I listen to either music or podcasts on iTunes to stimulate my mind for the day.

When I opt for a podcast, I usually choose money expert Dave Ramsey or previously recorded sermons. One of my favorite pastors is a man named John Mark Comer of Solid Rock Church in Tigard, Ore. (southwest of Portland). I attend a college church service at Solid Rock every Friday night, along with 1400 other college students. The sermons are then uploaded onto iTunes, which can be downloaded for free.

So Wednesday I was listening to Pastor Comer as he spoke about some things we need to learn as we begin another year. According to Comer, we need to learn the "art of visioneering," and he asked the questions, "What is your vision for this year? What is your focus? What is God's plan for your life this year?"

Those are big questions and not the first time I had thought about them.

For example, my vision is to solve the problem of human trafficking, adopt five children from third-world countries, share with people my passion for God, educate cities about the importance of farming, write a few books, create a new magazine and become the best wife and mother the world has ever seen.

A little ambitious (and slightly unrealistic), but I think it's a good place to start. Of course, I'm not planning on accomplishing all of this in 2009--that would be insane--but I am thinking big and long-term for a reason. It's because our culture, especially young people, are thinking too small. What I'm seeing are young people with a focus to earn enough money for an iPhone, a Wii system or the next Guitar Hero game. They spend their days and nights (and money) downloading songs, going to movies, staring at a computer screen and attending parties that are saturated with alcohol. Instead, they need to learn the art of visioneering.

I'm pretty sure I have mentioned this in a previous column, but this is a quote worth repeating: "We should always remember--and never forget--that those who will commit to nothing, who stand for nothing, and who risk for nothing, in the end, rarely accomplish anything."

I would add that if we don't have a vision, we won't accomplish anything. And we can't have a vision if we don't have passion.

For those who don't have passion about anything, maybe they shold turn off their iPod, log off Facebook, unplug their plastic guitar from the PS2 and start educating themselves about current events.

The world is in a crisis. We have terrorist organizations in the Middle East running their operations in residential areas, in hospitals, near Red Cross and United Nations buildings. President-elect Obama and his ambigous agenda for change is going to tak office Jan. 20. Jews are being killed because they are Jews (deja vu, anyone?). The Gaza strip continues to be under violent attack as thousands of airstrikes hit the ground as well as innocent people. car industries and state governors have begged for a bailout equaling billions of dollars. And too soon will persecution of Christians start creeping across the Pacific waters, landing on the land of the free.

This generation may not realize it, but they need to be prepared for a major shift in history. They aren't going to be prepared if they have no vision and no passion, but are singing about being "Fearless" along with rising country star Taylor Swift. I'm afraid we have much to fear.

A young woman's journey to godliness

2009-01-05T12:54:00.003-06:00

I have read Proverbs 31 more times than I can count. The words seem to be interwoven into the way I view the world, and specifically the way I see my design as a woman. I often think about what kind of wife and mother I will be, LORD-willing that is His plan for me. How does a woman who fears the LORD manage her family and serve her husband? Every time this thought rolls around in my mind, I think of the word "selfless." And in the place of selfishness must be a heart to serve.

Thankfully, my mother has given me a good example of how to live selflessly. I also have dear friends such as Elizabeth Prentiss, Amy Carmichael, Elizabeth Elliott, Susan Hunt, and Leslie Ludy (to name a few) to give me direction on how to become a godly woman. Carmichael's heart was to become a "servant of all" while she was sharing the love of Christ to the lost in India. Elliott sought God's will and His desires above her own when her husband, Jim, expressed his desire to reach the Waodani people. To join the rank of these women, among others, is to abandon everything that I am without Christ and become His hands and feet. But in my journey towards this goal, it has become a harder feat than I had ever imagined.

In the fall of 2008, I decided that I needed to replace my selfishness with servanthood. It sounded like a reasonable thing to do at the time, so I prayed that God would show me how I was being selfish and how I could instead see people's needs above my own. I didn't really like what I saw. Slowly, I realized that I was in a constant conflict with selfishness and selflessness, not only day by day, but moment by moment. Basically, the way I went about life each day was based on how each decision could make my life better.

When I got rid of secular music, movies, magazines, books, etc. from my life, I thought I had removed the world's voice once and for all. But, unknown to me at the time, the messages of the aforementioned were still lodged in my mind. Though I had thrown away material things in my life that hindered my relationship with God, I had neglected to throw away lies and petty indulgences, which reflected my selfishness.

It's Jan. 2009 now, and I still face a daily battle between the desire of my flesh and my desire to pursue God's desires. But I can admit that I'm getting a little better at winning against my flesh.

As I have accepted the life of godliness, I have realized that I have only stepped foot into an endless frontier. The possibilities for growth are boundless and God's grace is limitless. In fact, as I live under the umbrella of God's guidance, I am immortal until my work for the LORD is done. God will continue to sand the rough edges as he shapes me into the woman He has designed me to be. And I will constantly remind myself of the words of Elizabeth Prentiss, who wrote in her book, Stepping Heavenward.

"What you need is such a living, personal love of Christ
to make the thought of being where He is
so delightful as to fill your mind with the single thought!"

A Year For New Things

2009-01-02T20:12:00.003-06:00

A new year is all about new beginnings. And that's exactly what 2008 was for me. Here are some examples.

After my tour with the Continental Singers in the fall of 2007, I returned to school in Tennessee for the spring semester, but to no roommate. I had spent months on the road with 27 other people to hang out with for every moment of the day. In school, I was used to having a roommate, so the absent of having someone to live with was new for me, and I didn't like it too much. Returning to college in the middle of the school year was hard since I felt disconnected from those in my class as well as all of the incoming freshmen. But not having a roommate to help me re-establish myself in the community forced me to go beyond my comfort level.

Then summer came. During the summer, I tried something else that was new for me, which was leading a girls Bible study. Five girls and I went through a book called Authentic Beauty by Leslie Ludy. Having no leadership experience made the idea intimidating for me, but I was passionate about the message of the book. So before I talked myself out of the idea, I e-mailed several girls who I thought would like to be a part of it. From the end of May through mid-August, we met on a weekly basis to discuss each chapter of the book as it pointed us to the Bible, which revealed to us that true beauty can only come from Christ.

Then the fall came and that brought a variety of new beginnings. I had transferred from Tennessee to Portland, Ore. New school, new city, new church, new friends. For the first time, I sang in a church choir. For the first time, I sang on a worship team with a full band. For the first time, I learned ballroom dancing. And we all know what happened to my hair. Those are just a few examples of some new things I have been able to experience in only one semester.

The year ended with a wonderful new beginning when my cousin, Diane Harter, and her husband, Nate, had their first baby on Christmas Day. They had a little girl named Tori Rae, weighing 7 pounds and 14 ounces. As we celebrated New Years Day at my grandmother's house, I got to hold this sweet, tiny baby in my arms. It was a beautiful way to start a new year. As she slept in my arms, I thought about what kind of new things I might experience in the coming months.

The unknown can be scary to think about sometimes, though. With a new President taking over the oval office, a lot of people are feeling anxiety about how American will take shape in the next four years. And with the unpredictable economy, many people are in constant worry about how they are going to make ends meet.

Talking about the state of America can be depressing, but I want to encourage my readers to look at 2009 optimistically and view it as an opportunity to try something new.

That's what I'm going to do anyways. I'm going to try something called a budget. While the concept is familiar to me, I've never put a limit on my spending by means of a budget. Thanks to my parents, I've never had a credit card and I always try to be wise with the way I spend my money. But after spending a whole day going through my bank statements and seeing how I spent my money this last semester got me thinking that maybe I should put a little more thought (and some self-control) into the way I spend my money.

My mom always says that I need to learn to be frugal (because my husband will appreciate that some day). I have a lot to learn about what it means to be frugal, but it's a goal I'm going to strive for this year. I'll let you know how it goes.

A Rumination

2008-12-27T01:03:00.004-06:00

I am resurrecting a poem I wrote earlier this year that sums up my pursuit for godliness and a closer relationship with God. As I've been stepping heavenward, I have come to learn that this journey will always be upward, and far from an easy climb. Since writing this poem, I have stumbled and fallen countless times by allowing sin to rise its ugly head in my life, causing intense pain and undeserving forgiveness. But, without fail, God has faithfully been there at my side, ready to pick me up as I cried out to him while on my knees in brokenness. Thankfully, God isn't one to give up on His children. As a Father, He disciplines us, shaping us into the man or woman He has designed us to be. Satan wants to use sin to cause us a lifetime of gut-wrenching pain, but God wants to see us rise above sin with a fist that's ready to kill it before it even has taken a breath!

My prayer is that for those who are still stumbling and falling, they will have stumbled across this blog, and learn that God is patiently waiting for you with open arms that are anxious to embrace you, and everlasting love that He is wanting you to discover.

To wake up to a faithful sun

And a faithful God

To begin the day with You on my mind

To pray until I forget I’m on my knees

To feel blessed by the things I did not receive

To let Him reach into the basin of my mind

And touch the feelings no one has ever seen

To fall in love with Him

To let it just be the two of us

Talking, walking in the rain

Pouring His heart out to me

And me to Him

To see beauty

And Him smiling at me

A smile more beautiful than my mind can write

To delight in His creativity

To see His love for those He created

To fall asleep safely in His arms

And dream about life and love until morning

When I will wake up to the faithful Son

A symbol of new beginnings

2008-12-25T22:39:00.003-06:00

I've realized that I have neglected to inform my readers about something. As I've been going around town while I've been home, I have received a few interesting looks from people.

Let me explain.

I have two friends in Portland who are attending the Aveda Institute, which is a cosmetology school. So for the past few months, I have been the receiver of a handful of free services, including haircuts and make up applications, from both of them. After a couple months, my friends made a suggestion that would dramatically change my appearance.

About a week before Thanksgiving, I changed my hair from very blonde to very brown. And it was a pretty big deal for me. I understand that people, especially young women, do it all the time, if not more peculiar modifications to their hair and/or body. But I felt it was something that I needed to do.

I've always been the blonde girl, which includes being the punch line to countless blonde jokes. This exchange from blonde to brown was much to the dismay of my younger brother. He posted his opinion about my hair on my Facebook profile, and I quote, "You can't come home until you are blonde again because then when you feel dumb I can't say you're a blonde and I can't have that happen...I need my blonde jokes!!!!!!!!!!!"

Obviously, I didn't adhere to his command. At dinner one evening, he said, "I can't look at you. It's just too weird! You are supposed to be blonde!"

Thankfully, my self-worth doesn't usually come from my younger brother. Most people have complimented my new hair color, which I assume each one is speaking with honesty and sincerity.

I also made this change without warning anybody, except for a select few people. Most people at my school know me--or did know me, I should say--as Michelle, the short, blonde-haired girl from Kansas. That's just the way it was. So when I went changing my hair color on them, it generated several double-takes from students.

The day after I had my hair done, I was standing in line at the cafe in the student center, noticing that a girl kept glancing in my direction. Finally, with her finger pointing at me, she said, "Either you are the sister of someone I know or you look very, very similar to her." I informed her that both conclusions were wrong and that I simply changed my hair color.

There is another humorous element to the new color of my hair. See, my two friends in cosmetology school also have short, brown hair. If someone were to look at us from the back, that person would have a hard time knowing which one was Michelle, Maggie or Jamie. At a Mexican grill, one of the workers asked if we were sisters. And I'm pretty sure he hasn't been the only one wondering the same thing.

So, for those who may have seen me in town, don't feel bad that you couldn't put a name with my face. I guess you could say that I'm just into trying new things.

One more thing...

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas with family and friends and that this season has been filled with blessings and joy. I love celebrating the birth of my Savior, Jesus Christ, and I hope that we all have been reminded of this great love that came down from heaven to earth in order to change the fate of humanity.

I have also appreciated hearing comments from readers about how much they enjoy my column. I can honestly say that I have in turn enjoyed sharing my experiences with my hometown as I explore new beginnings in a place where I have just scratched the surface.

The new year of 2009 is just around the corner and who knows what doors of opportunity are waiting for me to walk through. All I can say is I'm ready for something new, I have the hair to prove it.

Keeping Jesus in the season

2008-12-17T23:41:00.002-06:00

It's probably no surprise that I'm a Jesus-is-the-reason-for-the-season girl. At least, I hope it's not. It really is my favorite time of the year. The decorations, family traditions and get-togethers, caroling, turkey and mistletoe all help make the season bright.

I also love singing those timeless hymns like, "Silent Night," "What Child is This" and "Angels We Have Heard on High." And sure, reading "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" is a classic, but the narrative in the book of Luke is by far even better.

Maybe it's because of my upbringing that I never could get into writing letters to Santa or leaving him milk and cookies. Even when I was little, I can't recall a memory of believing in Santa Clause. I do remember visiting visiting Santa at Santa City and telling him that I wanted rollerblades for Christmas, but I knew that my mom was in close proximity, so I hoped she was taking note of everything I wanted.

But I'm not the only one in town who is into the Christian meaning of Christmas.

On "Merry Christmas" stationery, my dad received a letter in the mail from Colby Ag Center in Colby. An excerpt from it reads: "The blessings of Christmas are many ~ May the glorious day of our Savior's birth resound with hope and peace on Earth! May the gift of faith, the blessing of hope, and the peace of His love be yours at Christmas and always."

As I go about town, I'm greeted with "Merry Christmas!" and numerous homes and businesses highlight the nativity scene. Even Santa City still features the nativity scene at the edge of Fike Park.

For this, I am thankful that Colby has chosen to avoid overdosing on political correctness that seems to take place during the Christmas season. Every year America tries harder to erase the birth of Jesus Christ from Christmas--or maybe I should say "the Holidays." And every year the depravity of America reaches a new level, including the elderly man who was killed the day after Thanksgiving by raging, consumer fanatics.

I found it especially disconcerting when I heard that a mall in Aurora, Colo., was completely absent of any Christmas decorations in early Dec. And as far as I know, there are still none. And while Oregon is in the same vein as Colorado as far as politics are concerned, I almost had to laugh at the irony of listening to Oregonians singing "Silent Night" at the Christmas tree lighting in downtown Portland. How does that second verse go? Oh, yes: "Silent night, holy night, shepherds quake at the sight, glorious stream from heaven afar, heavenly hosts sing, 'Alleluia!' Christ the Savior is born, Christ the Savior is born." That doesn't sound very tolerant to those who don't celebrate the Christian meaning of Christmas.

Really, avoiding Jesus' birth during Christmas is like not putting lights on a Christmas tree. The tree may still look pretty enough with all those ornaments and candy canes, but it's the lights that will make the tree glow with a beautiful radiance. It just wouldn't be the same without them.

Spreading Christmas cheer for all to hear

2008-12-17T22:25:00.003-06:00

Even though I'm not seeing any snowflakes covering the sidewalk or ice-cycles hanging from tree branches, I can tell that Christmas is in the air. It's just something that I can't ignore.

I'm in the middle of an intense week of finals and papers and projects, but there have been a handful of Christmas events happening in Portland that I must experience while I'm residing here. Well, that's what I tell myself when I feel like avoiding things like homework, studying and other school-related tasks that seem to get in the way of having fun.

My first Christmas event was going downtown to watch the big Christmas tree light up Pioneer Square. I'm guessing there were thousands of people there, standing around the block, waiting for the clock to strike 6 o' clock. My friend and I literally had to push our way through the crowd as we looked for a good spot to see the tree. A business used the event as a promotional opportunity and gave away free buttons that had a little green light in it that would blink. So imagine thousands of little green lights flashing throughout a mass of people, who were also singing Christmas carols and hymns (which I found to be politically incorrect for a liberal city like Portland).

However, the Christmas Tree Lighters were apparently late as everyone impatiently looked at the clock, which read 6:10. But the countdown finally began. We all screamed "Three! Two! One!" and the square was suddenly radiant with countless lights. I expected fireworks or maybe a symphony playing in the background like in the movies, but it was still pretty exciting.

The next Christmas event on my schedule was the Portland Zoo Lights. Every Christmas season,t he zoo is decorated with light designs that I have never seen in my life. There were animals, insects, rivers, trees, flowers. The fences were covered with blue and white lights or green and red lights. Most of the animals were put away, but we did get to see a few elephants and a little penguin, which I named Scamper.

Not only were we there to see the lights, we came to infect everyone with a bit of Christmas spirit (we had to make up for the lack of snow somehow). See, my friends and I love to sing and we couldn't think of a better reason to sing than to give the other zoo-attendees the gift of caroling.

As we stood in line, waiting to ride the train around the zoo, we began singing every Christmas song we could think of. Thought there were many songs when we hummed more than sang actual words since we somehow had not memorized the lyrics, the people seemed to enjoy it. In fact, many started to join us. I guess our Christmas spirits were contagious. One lady enjoyed our caroling so much that she came up to my friend and asked excitedly, "What are you guys going to sing next?!"

We also said that we took requests (hoping it would be a song that we actually knew), then we heard a little boy shout, "Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer"! That one we knew very well and happily began singing the names of Santa's reindeer.

We ended the night at a cozy cafe downtown with hot chocolate and plenty of laughter as we replayed our zoo light adventure. Unfortunately, I'm currently suffering from a sore throat, and even though singing loud for all to hear was probably not the best remedy, it was definitely worth it.

My last day of final exams was Friday, and I'm hoping to be home by Saturday. And as much as I love school and living the city life, it will be simply wonderful to be home, spending time with my family and friends, while savoring the opportunity to relax. So since I'll happen to be in the neighborhood until Jan. 11, don't hesitate to say hello! And if I'm not writing about something that you wish I was, I would love to know what that is.

See you soon!

Something Good

2008-12-17T22:16:00.003-06:00

(This column was published the day after Thanksgiving; hence, the theme of being blessed and thankful.)

Let's play a game. Games are a popular family tradition during the holidays, including Thanksgiving, and I have a great one in mind. It's called, "Something Good."

Before we begin, let me give a little background information about where I learned this game. Two years ago, I went to Mexico over my fall break along with 13 other students with a goal of helping them both spiritually and practically. At the end of one of our long days of working, we sat on top of the roof of the church in the cool of the night, gazing at the stars and city lights.

We sat in silent amazement at the sight until one of the guys said, "This is something that really makes me happy." My friend, Danielle, was then reminded of a game called "Something Good," her friends play when one of them is feeling depressed. The basic gist is that a person says, "Something good is..." and the person must finish the sentence by telling the other players something that is good in his/her opinion. An explanation for why something is good is optional. There is no order to who can speak; each person simply shares something good.

Get it? Great! I'll go first.

Something good is... my health. Sure, I get headaches every now and then and my stomach doesn't particularly enjoy it when I eat Taco Bell at midnight, but other than that, I'm a healthy 21-year-old. It's something I take for granted almost every day, though. My friend who teaches ballroom dancing had to drop out of school at the beginning of the semester due to heart problems. The granddaughter of one of my professors is a "risk cancer patient." The wife of another professor is constantly being hospitalized for an unknown illness. And yet, I complain about the side effects of bad eating habits.

Catching on yet? Well, if not, I have another one.

Something good is... singing. I know it's not something that everyone enjoys, and I'm far from being an excelled vocalist, but I truly love it. My church here has actually given me several opportunities to sing in church, either in choir or helping lead the worship service. It's my favorite thing to do to express my love for God. It's what I do when making the half-hour drive from school to church or wherever. Singing with other people who love to sing is, in my opinion, one of the greatest joys in life.

Honestly, I could go on and on. I haven't even mentioned my family, friends, ballroom dancing, coffee, laughing or watching snowflakes fall gracefully from the sky. My life is overflowing with good things. I like to call these good things blessings or simply joys that make life sweeter.

In this season of thankfulness, I'm especially reminded of all the things I'm thankful for. This is the third year that I haven't been home to have Thanksgiving with my family, but something good is having great friends with welcoming homes.

Girl vs. sports writing

2008-11-20T14:59:00.003-06:00

I'm not much of a sports fanatic. For those who haven't picked up on this yet from reading my weekly column, let me just clarify that I'm not a fan of sports. I don't have a favorite football team. I don't quite understand the language of "stats." And I have never played for a team sport before, unless tennis counts. But tennis was initially appealing to me only because the girls got to wear dresses.

So when my friend asked if I wanted a ticket to watch the Portland Blazers, which I learned is an NBA sports team, one would think that I would decline. But for some reason, it sounded like a fun idea. Though I'm not a true Oregonian, I felt that having this basketball experience was a duty I needed to fulfill as a new resident in Oregon. Plus, I find is absolutely amusing to watch this group of people, known as sports fans, interact with each other and the team that's playing.

So Wed. night, we loaded onto the Max (an above ground subway system) and headed to downtown Portland along with about 12,000 other Oregonians. We arrived at the arena and made our journey up to the nosebleed section. As humble college students, we had to be content with what 15 dollar tickets could give us.

As I watched the first quarter unravel, I remembered the first time I was given a sports story assignment for my college newspaper in Tennessee. After so many years of being able to avoid every sports story, my editor that year found out that my journalism experience was lacking. So I was assigned to report on the upcoming men's basketball game. Though I informed him that he must be mistaken, he thought otherwise. After a couple deep sighs, I accepted the assignment (not that I had a choice in the first place) and made plans to report on the next men's basketball game.

This may come as a surprise, but I was actually a very active basketball game attendee. I especially enjoyed watching our Lady Lion's play as they averaged 100 points throughout the season. They were disciplined, aggressive and undefeated. It was thrilling to watch the other team battle to their limit, trying to undo the Lady's undefeated streak. I was even friends with a few of the players, which made it even more enjoyable to watch.

I was used to cheering when our team got the ball and made a basket. I clapped at the right times and "booed" with the best of them. Although, after the first half, I would get distracted with talking to the person next to me, and soon the game received only a few glances from me until the last minute of the game.

But reporting on a game was a completely different story--literally. This time I had to pay attention to players and what they did, while keeping track of the score and how it corresponded with the clock that clicked down the seconds. Highlights of the game and the players involved had to be noted along with a rough idea of the team's strategy.

All of these things I never paid attention to in the past. So I had to humbly ask a friend to help me with this new territory in reporting. I was very thankful for my friend's presence as I obeyed whenever he said, "Umm...you might want to write that down," which I usually replied with, "Write what down? What happened? What did I miss?!"

Going back to the Portland Blazers vs. Chicago Bulls game, I watched this guy named Brandon Roy dunk the ball and I had to laugh to myself as I thought back to how stressful it was to write that sports story. Simply attending the game was a nice break from my hectic schedule as I got to spend time with friends who make me laugh, even though it was usually due to my ignorance of NBA basketball. But it's ok that I'm not a sports fanatic. After all, there's no way I'd be able to exchange my dresses for a jersey.

A plead for unity

2008-11-17T20:30:00.002-06:00

Honestly, I've told many people that I refuse to write about politics. But after hearing numerous complaints about the election results, including the idiocy of the American people and the claim that making an international move is the best course of action, my position motivates me to speak for my generation.

I'm not here to advocate for the Republicans or the Democrats, or to inform everyone that I'm moving to Canada. I'm advocating for quite the opposite. Yes, my American right says that I have the freedom of speech, including complaining, which I could do for the next several paragraphs. But what would that accomplish, except further the assumption that twenty-somethings always have something to complain about?

Instead, I'm hoping and praying that as the election moves further behind us, we American citizens will move in the direction of becoming more unified after this divided election. Without unity, a national collapse is in the future.

There were many issues I didn't agree on with Obama (and I could say the same thing for McCain), but that doesn't mean I'm going to turn my back on America. As an alternative, we must submit to our new President, even though we may not agree with everything he stands for. We must obey those who are in authority, though we may hold a different set of rules. Respect must be given, if they don't deserve it. It doesn't mean that we need to compromise what we believe in order to show respect for our government; it does mean that we should not allow our differences to destroy the United States. This is because in order for the states to be united, there must be unity among the people.

On a smaller scale, I'm currently witnessing the result of having a lack of unity. One of my friends is in the beginning stages of what may end up as seeing his parents divorce. It broke my heart to see for the first time such a solemn look on a face that seemed to always have a bright smile. And since I don't agree with what his parents are doing, would that justify me abandoning the friendship? Of course not. In fact, it should motivate me along with his other close friends to offer him the extra support he will need during this time.

I understand that this column won't have an impacting effect at a national level. I'm just hoping that for those who feel bitter about the results of the election, they will be encouraged to adjust their emotions. I also realize that we don't have much control on what happens at that kind of government position, but as a person who believes in the power of prayer, I think that's the most important thing we can do for our President-elect. I say, let's storm the throne of God, plead that He will have mercy on our nation and that He will give Obama the strength and the wisdom to bring America to its former glory.

A young woman's journey to godliness

2008-11-07T15:48:00.008-06:00

Sex slavery and a journalist's dream

2008-11-05T22:50:00.003-06:00

I have introduced myself to countless people with many of them asking me what I'm studying in college. When I say journalism (along with Bible), they ask the inevitable question: "What are you hoping to do with journalism?"

I've been wondering the same thing myself. Ideally, I want my writing to impact the world. Or on a smaller scale, my dream is being able to write every day, knowing that once the words I've written have been read, someone's life has been altered or he/she has been prompted to alter the life of someone else, even if it is just slightly. Sometimes a little can be enough.

As I was discussing with a friend about how my journalistic dream could come true, the issue of human trafficking arose. We both have a heart for helping people, but trying to verbalize the pain we felt for these children often left us speechless.

I was then reminded of a short film I saw earlier this year called Fields of Mudan. Though the story itself is fiction, it documented the reality of human trafficking. This one centered on the sex slavery in Asia, displaying what I call the essence of evil experienced by a young girl named Mudan.

The film opens with Mudan racing through the open range with her smiling mother. The young, Asian girl thrived in her age of innocence, unaware of the injustice she would encounter too soon. Her dream of going to America, a place where dreams come true, was short-lived when she was ripped from her mother's safe arms and into the hands of the heartless Madam Zhao, owner of a child brothel. At only eight years old, Mudan was introduced to modern day slavery. Memories and a friendship with another brothe girl, Faye, are Mudan's only consolations as her future dims.

At the end of the film, tears flowed down my face and my whole body ached with internal pain. I was completely powerless in that cold auditorium as the credits rolled. No one came to that girl's rescue, or any of them for that matter. The perverted men were not punished. The end was not resolved! All I could do was bury my face in my hands and pray for these precious girls in captivity.

As the movie replayed in my mind, I prayed for these girls again, trying to picture their sweet faces. I honestly don't know what little girls do for fun if they aren't privileged to enjoy what technoligically advanced countries (i.e. North America) offer. But I remember being a little girl, oblivious to the wicked nature of people. I even thought there was another girl like me, who did the same things I did, but she just looked different and was somewhere else in the world.

Obviously, my view of the world has shifted since then. At 21 years old, I feel that I must do more than absorb the things that will make my life easier and more enjoyable. I have no idea how to go about saving these girls, whose childhoods are robbed for someone else's pleasure. I often think that writing several hundred words will not even make a dent in destroying this evil that thrives beneath the surface and behind closed doors. Logically, I am absent of ability and knowledge to fight against human trafficking, in whatever form it presents itself.

But maybe I'm just not dreaming big enough.

No place like home

2008-10-30T21:00:00.006-05:00

I enjoy being in the city. Really, I do. But I didn't realize how much I miss the life of having only a handful of stoplights until a few days ago.

My college friends and I were invited to a corn maze by some of my church friends, located at a pumpkin patch about 15 miles out of town. One of my friends from church works at the corn maze and was able to get all of us in for free and after hours. It was an offer we couldn't resist.

So we put on our corn maze attire (that is, grungy clothes and boots), bundled up and headed into the field. As we traveled through the field, we learned that the bird's eye view of the field was appropriately a picture of John McCain and Barack Obama. We also learned that we had spent a lot of time in Obama's forehead and probably walked around his eyeball several times.

Remembering that we were far from the city lights, I looked up into the sky and saw it painted with stars staring back at me. It felt like home. I told one of my friends that I want to hug a bunch of cornstalks.

Being in that cornfield not only reminded me of my home that's surrounded by cornfields, but it also reminded me of my dad. As we back-tracked trail after trail, I thought about the times during the summer when I rode with my dad in his pick-up to field after field.

As we drove down those jagged, dirt roads, I would tell my dad about what was going on in my life, what decisions I had to make or what concerns I had about the future. Sometimes we would listen to a sermon on the radio and share our thoughts on what we were hearing. Other times, we would listen to music, often those "oldies" I have never heard before. My dad would say, "Oh! This is a good one!" and he would start whistling in a way I've only heard done by my dad.

I always tried to be helpful when I went with him to work on an irrigation well. But since I can barely tell the difference between a screwdriver and a wrench, I would sit on the side of his flat-bed pick-up and watch my dad pull out his pliers from his belt. He always seems to know exactly what he needs to do and how he is going to do it. My dad has spoiled me by being able to fix everything that I break. I think that's why I often describe my dad as my hero to other people.

Taking drives to the fields with my dad is not something I do often, but each summer would not be complete without it. They are rare times when it's just me and my dad and I get to see the kind of man that I get to call my dad. Those times spent driving down Kansas back roads have been special to me. How could I not think about my dad and my life back home as I stood in that cornfield in the outskirts of Portland?

When I think about home, I think about the sun setting behind a horizon lined with cornstalks or wheat heads. I imagine my dad's headlights shining through the front window as he returns home from another long day of work. I see my family sitting around the kitchen table, me and my mom drinking tea with milk and sugar. We would discuss relevant issues, new thoughts about God, our dreams for the future. I feel overwhelmingly blessed to be loved by the parents that I have. And then I think, there really is no place like home.

A family across borders

2008-10-26T18:14:00.002-05:00

I've always been fascinated by different cultures and languages. I enjoy hearing about family traditions, the foods people eat, the holidays they celebrate, the beliefs they hold in their hearts.

That's why I was excited when I learned that I was required to take World Christianity, which will give me a peek into the lives of Christians around the world.

As students of this class, we have been assigned to attend two churches with a different cultural/ethnic make-up. Whether it'd be Asian, African, Latin or even Greek, we have to experience what it feels like to be lost and feel out of place. So this past Sunday afternoon, four guys and I entered Vietnamese Hope Baptist Church in Portland. One of my friends found a Vietnamese church about 10 minutes from campus. So that afternoon, we piled into a car, all of us feeling apprehensive about encountering the unfamiliar and unexpected.

When we entered the church foyer, we were warmly greeted by a man and a woman with, "Are you guys lost? Do you need directions to get somewhere?"

We kindly told them that we were not lost at all, but we were there for the Vietnamese worship service. They looked confused so we informed them that we are students at Multnomah Bible College and are visiting a different ethnic church as an assignment for a class. they asked us numerous times if we wanted a translator or if we wanted to wait for the next service, which would be accompanied with an English translation. But we told them that we wanted the full feel of the service.

"So you want to feel lost and completely out of place," he stated. We gave him an affirming nod. We met the pastor a few minutes later and he said in response, "Well, just tell yourself that we are speaking in tongues!"

Feeling a bit out of our comfort zone already, we entered the small sanctuary and were escorted to the third row from the front. A man sitting in front of us motioned for us to sit in the front row, but one of us gave him a thumbs up to inform him that we were good.

As we waited for the service to begin, I examined the bulletin (rather than try to figure out what it says since I don't know a syllable of Vietnamese). A woman behind me must have noticed the blank look on my face (or perhaps that I was the only blonde-haired girl in the sanctuary), so she started explaining the order of the service to me. Throughout the service, I learned that "Chua" means God, "Thi-thien" means Psalms and "Chua Se Lo Toan" is the hymn, "God Will Take Care of You."

After I left the church, I realized that it wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought it would be; in fact, I wouldn't mind going back and getting to know these people more. I want to learn about their country and their families. What made them leave their home country and come to North America? What was home like anyways? Or even, did they experience persecution for being Christians in Vietnam? Maybe I have so many questions because I am journalist (and I wouldn't be a very good journalist if I didn't have any questions). Or maybe I'm just a curious individual. Whatever it is, I enjoyed the Vietnamese people. It was like a breath of fresh air because it reminded me that the world does not revolve around Americans, even though many think it does.

It also reminded me of why I enjoy being a Christian. In a sense, we have our own culture and our own language when we talk about our beliefs. And when we meet another Christian with the same beliefs, even if they are from the other side of the world, there's an immediate bond that's phenomenally unexplainable. We may differ on how we express what we believe, but for those of us who believe in one God and the inerrant Word of God, we are a big family that encompasses the earth. And that's the most fascinating thing of all.

Allow me to re-introduce the Christ

2008-10-20T20:17:00.004-05:00

Actually, Blair Wingo of The Passion for Christ Movement will be re-introducing the Lord Jesus Christ to you.

Dance is silent poetry

2008-10-16T01:00:00.005-05:00

"Dance is silent poetry."

I don't know who said that, but those words have been lodged in my mind for the past few days. That's because I have re-visited this love of mine from the past.

First, before anyone thinks that I have mastered the floor with my dance skills, I dance to express, not to impress. The only kind of formal training in dancing I've ever had was ballet when I was in first grade, which doesn't really count.

I remember my sparkling, gold dress with its poofy-ness that I wasn't too fond of. We also each got a wand with a golden star at the end to complete the look. I was a bit disappointed when we got our costumes because I really wanted the flowing pink dress that came down to my ankles, which I saw in the dance teacher's magazine. There was something about the pink dress that was prettier, more elegant, something that a dancer should wear. But I still proudly wore that sparkly, gold dress at the recital, dancing in circles on the stage while missing my cue every now and then.

Through the years, I've picked up a few other things in dance besides plies and other terms that I didn't care to memorize at the age of seven. When I went to college in Tennessee, a group of us students went off campus every Sunday night to swing dance (we were good, Christian students who didn't want to violate the "no dancing on campus" policy). For hours, we would dance at Centennial Park on a stage with its slick floor, perfect for spinning to our heart's content. Towards the end of the semester, we decided to change it up and began adding the waltz to our dance sessions. To practice our turns, we danced around a fountain positioned in the middle of the park. Some of my favorite memories have come from those late nights of dancing under a clear, glittering sky, watching the world turn as my bare feet spun me in a circle.

Unfortunately, the swing and waltz dancing stopped when I toured with the Continental Singers in the fall of 2007. Although, that was when I learned how to sing and dance at the same time. It was quite the challenge for most of us, but our director made sure that we got it right. And as much as I enjoyed that, it was far from the swing dancing I had grown to love.

I thought it was the end of my dancing era when I transferred to Portland in fall 2008. But as quickly as a ballerina can complete a pirouette, dancing presented itself to me. Not just any dancing--ballroom dancing, the dance of grace and romance that cannot be done alone. One of my friends here has recently offered to teach ballroom lessons for free on campus every Tuesday evening, which have included the waltz, foxtrot, tango, salsa, mamba and swing dancing.

Each time I have tasted the beauty of ballroom dancing, I feel as if my design as a woman is accentuated. I feel like I become a little more beautiful when I place my right hand in his left and rest my left hand on his upper-arm, then wait for him to begin the dance.

Besides the artistic expression that is done through the art of dance, there is something else I love about dancing. It is a picture of how a man relates to a woman. He leads, she follows. And if they're out of step, the dance is interrupted and could fall apart. The woman must also learn to trust the man and that he will be able to lead her correctly.

When the movements are fluid, the steps are on time and the man and woman both have a smile on their face, it seems the world has stopped turning even as the woman spins across the floor. It's as if each move is an unspoken word, the dance as a whole has a story to tell. Or perhaps they are just a few rhythmic lines.

Giving is refreshing

2008-10-02T00:48:00.004-05:00

Let me tell you a secret. I have discovered lately that giving is refreshing. Most people find refreshment in music, movies, food, shopping. But I believe I have unlocked the key to the state of tranquility and replenishment of energy.

This last Tuesday, classes were canceled so students could devote their day to serving the community and sharing the gospel with people we were serving. It was called Day of Outreach. While many rejoiced over the cancellation of 8 am classes, there were the few of us who sincerely saw it as an opportunity to reach out to those who are neglected, over-worked and forgotten.

Though I've done this sort of thing in the past, I always get nervous about what I'm going to do and the people I'm going to meet. I'm a people-pleaser so the job I'm assigned must be done efficiently to perfection and the people I meet have to love me. I'm pretty good at cleaning, so that morning, another girl and I headed off down the street to clean a woman's apartment. The three of us divided up the work load and within only an hour, the apartment was clean--to the woman's standards anyways. Her gratitude surpassed what I felt was needed, yet I couldn't help but feel satisfied.

"I swear time as folded on itself right before my eyes!" she declared numerous times.

The two of us headed back to campus to inform the Outreach committee that our job was completed.

But on the way back, I remember looking at the clock, reading 10:04 (am). Is that it? I said to myself. Sometime during the washing of dishes and scrubbing the counter-top, something inside of me was set ablaze. Even though I was operating on only 5 hours of sleep (far too little, in my opinion), I was wishing that my day of service did not have to end yet.

The air was beginning to dampen and soon water droplets were falling from the sky, sprinkling the sidewalk. The girl who was with me began to laugh.

"It has never not rained on a Day of Outreach," she said. I smiled with a determination not to allow any amount of rain drench my sunny spirit. It's just liquid sunshine, I told myself.

We handed our evaluation form to the Outreach committee and in return, they gave us directions. Apparently, we were headed to Shepherd's Door, a women's rescue mission.

Upon arrival, we joined a large group of fellow college students, rakes and shovels in hand, and received instructions on how to turn a leaf-covered lot into a play haven for children. Some raked, others worked on the outlining fence and I killed spiders. The supervisor informed us that spiders were a big problem in their facility and to be careful of not walking right into a web. I took my job of killing spiders very seriously, making sure that each web was destroyed and every quarter-sized spider was dead without question. We labored for two hours and too soon it was time to go back to the campus for lunch. I felt an ache knowing that our job was not finished and humbled by how greatly they appreciated our uncompleted task.

Admittedly, we were thankful to depart as compost (various organic substances) being turned over began to fill the air. As much as I love to serve, I was reminded that giving isn't always glamorous.

Still, my spirit was sunny as the sun peeked through the clouds above us. I then remembered a quote I read a couple days before: "Ask not how little but how much can love give?" Love is the key factor to giving. If love is absent, it can't really be called giving if it is done in vain. And once we realize that life isn't about us, it is easier to love.

I don't know the people I served on Day of Outreach, but whether it's believable or not, I do love them. I don't think serving would have been as refreshing if I didn't.

So I say, give, give, give and there lies the key to refreshment.

Waiting...

2008-09-27T22:14:00.007-05:00

"She confessed that she had made some mistakes...
due partly to the fear that if she did not find out
immediately where she was to go, the strength
to obey would fail and the light of the LORD's smile
would be gone."

Air left my chest when I read those words by Elizabeth Elliot about the missionary Amy Carmichael. They ring so true for me.

It reminded me of a film I saw earlier this year called F ields of Mudan. Though the story itself is fiction, it documented the reality of human trafficking. This one centered on the sex slavery in Asia, displaying the essence of evil experienced by a girl who was only 7 years old. At the end of the film, tears flowed down my face and my whole body ached from emotional pain. I was completely powerless in that auditorium as the credits rolled. No one came to that girl's rescue, or any of them for that matter. The perverted men were not punished. The end was not resolved! All I could do was bury my face in my hands and pray for these precious girls in captivity.

I have no idea how to go about rescuing those girls, but I know that the LORD does not require ability or knowledge, but availability and obedience. The life of willing obedience is a life that will display the power and glory of God. It takes more than admiration to acquire this kind of life. In the words of Winston Churchill, it takes "blood, sweat, and tears." It takes someone who will storm the throne of grace to plead for mercy to come down. It's more than being a soldier; it's being a warrior, demanding justice from those who do wrong to the innocent.

As much as I want to be included in the ranks of Amy Carmichael, my heart has moved more than my hands and feet. My heart is ready, but my mind is not. I have not allowed God to have control over my mind, which desires reason and common sense.

But what part of the Christian faith makes sense? We deserve death, but beyond all reason, God yearns for us to have life. Why? Because He loves us. Why does He love us? I have no idea. The Christian life that is completely surrendered to Christ doesn't make sense to the world, but it does to God. And we should live for His approval above all others. That is the gateway to a beautiful life and one step closer to conquering the essence of evil.

The point of this moment of pondering is that I am so anxious, like Amy was, to do the LORD's will and to adhere to His calling. But I feel like I'm sitting in that auditorium again, unable to quench these children's thirst for love. How long must I wait, LORD, until You say, "Go Ye"?

An observation

2008-09-26T19:21:00.007-05:00

As part of the dormitory community at college, I am part of a smaller dorm section, which includes about 15 girls as well as a Resident Assistant to lead and encourage us as we go through school. While I am just starting to get to know some of these girls, I always enjoy their company whenever we get together to watch My Fair Lady, go shopping, drink coffee or borrow each other's shoes. It's been a great opportunity to peek into the lives of those I see on a daily basis.

One aspect to my dormitory community is that my dorm section also has a "brother" dorm section. Occasionally, we will do activities with our "brothers" so we can get to know them, minister to each other and create a community with each other. However, these young men are quite a contrast to my dorm section.

See, I was informed a couple weeks ago about their idea of bonding with each other, which includes fighting (I prefer to term it "wrestling") in the hallways and sudden impulses to stand on each other's shoulders to display their muscular abilities (they did this as a performance for us girls during our first activity together).

I ate lunch with several of them the other day and listened to their excitement of the Tom vs. Richard fighting match a few days ago. One of them elbowed the guy sitting next to me and said, "Dude, I still need to take you down." Another guy across the table piped up, "Dude, I've already tried! He just put me in a head lock and I was paralyzed! My throat closed up and my body went limp. It was crazy, man." The others nodded in agreement.

However, that is only one dimension to this group of young men.

I saw another side to them this last Saturday when our two dorm sections went to the Oregon coast for a getaway retreat. Besides relaxing, shopping and swimming, we played games that required teamwork. The objective of one of the games was that we girls had to carry each guy over a bar, which was above our heads, without dropping him or letting any part of him touch the bar. Our hands/arms also couldn't touch the bar or we would have to start over. After we finished, the guys would have to do the same.

As we listened to one of our leaders explain this game to us, our jaws dropped. Most of us girls were under 5 feet, 5 inches and upper-body strength was basically non-existent. However, we were determined to succeed. We planned out our strategy, stretched our muscles and nominated a volunteer to begin. Though we struggled with some of the "bigger" guys, we were amazed that our feat was achieved.

It was now their turn to carry each of us over the bar. We had complete faith that they could do this and do it safely. But how exactly does a group of young men lift a girl above their heads without inappropriately touching her while also making her assured that she is safe? For them, this was the main objective of the game.

Before they began, they huddled in a circle to discuss how they were going to efficiently execute this mission. It was then that I witnessed the depth, tenderness and potential of these men. They didn't make degrading jokes about our lack of strength; instead, they cheered us on when our strength wavered. There was no inappropriate humor about inappropriate touching. They didn't make a move until we verbally told them we were ready. And they always made certain that we knew that they were not going to drop us and that they were capable of keeping us safe in their arms. I also believe that if it weren't for their encouragement, we would not have been successful in carrying them over that bar.

I don't know these guys very well yet, but I pray for them daily and I am anxious to see what this year will bring for them, for us and the joining of our friendships.

My Identity in Christ

2008-09-24T18:27:00.007-05:00

I am Accepted and Valued
John 1:12 I am God's child.
I Corinthians 6:19, 20 I've been bought with a price. I am His special treasure.
I Peter 2:4 I am chosen by God and precious to Him.
Colossians 2:10 I am complete with Christ.
Romans 8:17 I am a joint-heir with Christ, sharing His inheritance.
John 15:15 I am Christ's friend.

I am Secure and Loved
Romans 8:1, 2, 31f I am free forever from condemnation.
Romans 8:35 I can never be separated from God's love.
Romans 8:28 I am assured that everything works together for good.
II Corinthians 1:21, 22 I have been established, anointed and sealed by God.
Philippians 1:6 I'm confident that Christ will complete the good work He began in me.

I am Significant and Capable
John 15:6 I have been chosen and appointed to bear fruit.
I Corinthians 3:9 I am God's fellow worker.
II Corinthians 5:20 I am a ambassador for Christ.
Ephesians 2:6 I am seated with Christ in the heavenly realm.
Ephesians 2:10 I am God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works.
Ephesians 6:10-13 I can stand firm against the devil because I am "in Christ."

Beginning thoughts on the emerging church...

2008-09-17T19:53:00.009-05:00

If a person has any interest in the state of the church, he/she most likely has similar feelings about the term “emerging” as with an overplayed song on the radio.

It has been a hot topic in the Christian community for decades, even before the emergence of Shane Claiborne, Rob Bell, Brian McLaren, and Dan Kimball. Church leaders sensed a shift in the way people, especially young people, were approaching church and the Christian faith. Their tried and true methods of church and worship had become ineffective; therefore, it was a consensus among many church leaders that a change needed to occur.

As a result, Dan Kimball authored The Emerging Church and Emerging Worship, soon becoming a strong voice in the emerging church movement. Even though he wrote The Emerging Church five years ago, he continues to pastor his church, Vintage Faith Church in Santa Cruz, Calif., and is an active pursuer for those seeking spiritual truth.

Admittedly, I opened this book with a load of skepticism. I have heard strong arguments for and against the emerging movement and have maintained open eyes and ears to those who have something to say about it. So though my mind is in conflict with this concept of emerging the church, I can agree with Kimball on the following statements: The church is not the only thing that is emerging, but also the culture. It has become a mixture as individuals extract truths from different religions and worldviews. A belief in both Buddha and Allah do not create conflict in the mind because two contradictory beliefs can be held as true for one individual. People are strongly interested, and even fascinated, in spiritual things. If someone were to say there is only one Truth, they would be labeled as arrogant since they claim to know what is true and what isn’t. We all want truth, but we don’t necessarily want to be told what that truth is.

As I read through The Emerging Church, I noticed that Kimball focused on the atmosphere of church and the need for a spiritual emphasis when the church gathers together. But even Kimball noted that church leaders are far too eager to give their sanctuary a makeover instead of changing the way the gospel is presented.

However, half the book discusses methods of how to reach a “post-seeker-sensitive” generation. Since the publication of that book, emerging churches have softened the message of the gospel. They really like talking about Jesus, love, grace, and forgiveness. But as a result, they have sacrificed the authority of the Bible and narrow road to one Truth. These churches are more afraid of being labeled intolerant, condemning, or especially legalistic, than boldly presenting the gospel in how they live.

The main problem I have with Kimball is that the entire book has a main emphasis on reaching the “lost” by giving them a spiritual, or “vintage,” approach to the gospel. By changing the way the church gathers, he believes that young people will once again be attracted to church. But I had to ask myself, what about transforming our mind, body, and soul into the likeness of Christ to bring people into the Church?
I also had to assume that biblical characters, like Job, were omitted from messages because, after all, nobody wants to be Job. What’s attractive about a man who is placed in the hands of Satan? But as Job describes who he was, he says:

“I rescued the poor who cried for help, and the fatherless who had none to assist him. The man who was dying blessed me; I made the widow’s heart sing. I put on righteousness as my clothing; justice was my robe and my turban. I was eyes to the blind and feet to the lame. I was a father to the needy; I took up the case of the stranger. I broke the fangs of the wicked and snatched the victims from their teeth.” (Job 29:12-17)

That is far more powerful than candles, hanging bed sheets, and prayer corners to create a spiritual atmosphere. The souls of the lost are much more important than a reconstruction of church methods. I don’t doubt that Kimball esteems a man like Job to be a powerful example for Christians, but I wonder, would he dare command his church to live out this description, even in front of those who are post-seeker-sensitive?

“Satan has the Bible figured out better than any of us do and he is scared about us living out one sentence of it,” said best-selling author Eric Ludy on the issue of the emergent church.

The emerging church movement will not be diminishing any time soon. In fact, I predict to see it increase in momentum. But as we watch this culture emerge together and the way we do worship change, we must refuse to allow anyone, including ourselves, to change the character of Jesus. He is eternally relevant.

I pray daily that my love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that I may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God (Philippians 1:9-11).

A Single Girl's Marital Advice

2008-09-17T19:53:00.002-05:00

One of my best friends from high school got married on Saturday, Sept. 13. And I had both the privilege and opportunity to journey back home to be a bridesmaid in her wedding.

For those who know me well, they won’t be surprised to hear that I love weddings. The dresses, music, splashes of color, flowers and the moment the groom lays his eyes on his beloved bride all bring warmth to my soul.

A young girl will begin dreaming of that moment after she watches her first Disney princess movie. She will then spend the rest of her days searching until she finds her prince. And it’s a reasonable goal. The idea of postponing marriage or not getting married at all is a revolting thought for many people. This dream of finding my prince is still one of my own.

I attended my friend’s bridal shower the day before I left for college. As she opened each gift, the person who gave her the gift gave a piece of marital advice. I was the only person present who gave her a gift, but who was not married, which is reasonably why I didn’t give any advice. But now I wish I did.

My friend and her fiance have probably heard from countless people throughout their engagement that marriage will be difficult, that they need to be prepared for disappointment, and that after a while, they will realize that they were both disillusioned about their perspective on wedded bliss. My heart sinks for them because if a wedding is a celebration, why would we celebrate a set up for disappointment?

I apologize for all of this “advice” they have received. Instead, I would like to encourage them and all married couples in general to rise far above these low expectations of marriage.

Understandably, I don’t have any marital advice from personal experience. But I do know some things about friendships and much about relationships. After all, a marriage is built on a relationship and a relationship is built on a friendship.

The secret to a thriving relationship for a lifetime in the context of either marriage or friendship is a life of selflessness. One of my favorite authors (who has been happily married to her husband for 13 years) wrote, “Nothing will kill a marriage faster than two people who are only concerned with meeting their own needs and desires. But nothing will cause the romance and beauty of a marriage to blossom like two people who put each other’s needs and desires above their own.”

To simply put it, relationships take sacrifices. Snow White sacrificed her cozy cottage and little friends to be with her prince. Sleeping Beauty abandoned her warm bed and peaceful sleep. And Ariel, the little mermaid, left her sea world to be with the man of her dreams. Such is the requirement to experience a lifetime of a thriving relationship.

Furthermore, I would encourage my friend to embrace her femininity which will then naturally accentuate her husband’s masculinity. A masculine nature will be inclined to treat his beloved like a valuable princess. He will protect her innocence, rescue her and demand justice from those who do wrong to her. As the woman responds to her feminine nature, she will allow him to do these things for her instead of conforming to society’s cry for a woman to be independent. A reasonable person will agree that two independent people will not work together very well.

I don’t claim to be an expert on relationships. I learn more on a daily basis. But my responsibility as a friend is to share with her and others what I have learned in hopes that she will succeed in all that she hopes for.

It was definitely a whirlwind trip since I flew out Friday morning at 6 a.m. into Denver and returned Sunday morning, 8 a.m. But my girlish heart couldn't wait to see my friend fulfilling a little girl’s dream.

A Vision

2008-08-25T18:07:00.006-05:00

__________

This is my vision for every man and every woman
Every soul who yearns for a life that will make the Devil cringe
This is my plea for this generation and beyond
A prayer for me
And for those who want to join me
In reshaping mediocre Christianity

God, my Savior, my Redeemer
May my life go beyond what people see
Transcend Your love through me
When I smile in their direction
May they feel only Your affection
And the light on my face
Is like feeling Your embrace
Coarse through my veins
And become my hands and feet
Give me your eyes, your mind, your lips, your touch
I will admit
That I'm humbled that you would want to use me
A lover of self and sin
To radiate your glory
But that's the definition of my existence
To become as beautiful as You is my destination
How I long to attain your holiness
Energize my soul
Ignite a desire
Like a forest caught on fire
Uncontrollable
Unstoppable
But redemptive by new life
So, God, burn my old life into ashes
Destroy whatever safety I have found that does not contain You
Devour my worldly pleasures
Create a life that has been transformed into your fullness
Fruited by Your likeness
Your righteousness
Your holiness
How my body aches to feel your gaze, LORD
How my soul yearns for what is beyond the heavenly gates
My life is but a breath
A breeze through the leaves
A trickle through the river
But make it a world-altering ripple in time

This is my vision for those who belong to Christ

__________

A Collision of Christ's Love

2008-08-15T10:44:00.016-05:00

This morning, I've been working on writing a review for Eric Ludy's new book, The Bravehearted Gospel. While writing about the "manly stuff" that this book is advocating for, I was reminded of the masculine description of Jesus Christ in Revelations. Every time I read this particular passage, my heart pounds to know this majestic "Rider on the white horse" personally.

_______________

Revelation 19:11-16

The Rider on the White Horse
I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and makes war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him that no one knows but he himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God. The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean. Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. "He will rule them with an iron scepter." He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written:

KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS

_______________

Not only is Jesus Christ mighty and just and powerful as His eyes blaze with fire, He has a tender, loving heart for his Beloved.

_______________

Song of Solomon 4:9-11

Lover
You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride;
you have stolen my heart
with one glance of your eyes,
with one jewel of your necklace.

How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride!
How much more pleasing is your love than wine,
and the fragrance of your perfume than any spice!

Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride;
milk and honey are under your tongue.
The fragrance of your garments is like that of Lebanon.

_______________

Many people view Song of Songs to be confusing, weird and cryptic. But an understanding that this romance is unlike anything we've encountered here on earth, and you will see that Christ's love for his Bride, the Church, is altogether lovely.

_______________

Song of Solomon 5:16

Beloved
His mouth is sweetness itself;
he is altogether lovely.
This is my lover, this my friend,
O daughters of Jerusalem.

_______________

Contrast the Jesus Christ in Revelations with the One in Song of Songs and a glorious, perfect, beautiful combination of masculinity and tender-hearted love is revealed!

small things

2008-08-14T10:59:00.004-05:00

We all have bad days and sometimes it's those little blessings that can brighten up our day and bring warmth to the soul.

So lately, I've been trying to become more aware of small things I can do for people, while at the same time crushing my inclination to be selfish. This is what I have come up with so far:

• Let someone else have the closer parking spot.

• Give someone a compliment, even if they are a stranger.

• Leave a big tip when going out to eat.

• Volunteer to do the dirty job.

• Do something that needs done without being asked to do it.

• If you enjoyed or appreciated something that someone did, let them know!

• Be the one who is willing to make the dreaded phone call.

• Let someone else sit in the empty chair.

• Pretend that the things that annoy you don't.

• Pick up the trash that someone else left.

• Refrain yourself from complaining to someone. Misery loves company, right?

• Most importantly, smile. A lot! Force it if you have to. The light on your face may be more precious to someone than you may think.

Uncomfortable Truth

2008-08-13T14:40:00.002-05:00

I know I've talked about this before, but the idea of living for an "audience of one" or "the applause of heaven" has been stirring my emotions for a while. When I really think about it, it makes me feel uncomfortable.

I wonder, can I handle being called legalstic in whispers behind my back? or being labeled as "holier than thou"? How about being publicly humiliated because I decided to stand for a belief?

At this point, that's hard for me to be okay with. I like being liked by everyone too much. It's comfortable to be liked and accepted, and it really doesn't require too much energy. All I have to do is smile, give everybody a half-hearted embrace, re-iterate Sunday School answers, or just keep my mouth shut.

So when I think about what it's going to cost me to be bold for Christ, it scares me.

But then I think about Jesus and his ministry before his crucifixion. While many "despised" Jesus and thought him to have evil powers because he healed people, Jesus was still very well-liked. Why else would thousands upon thousands of people follow him around so often that he would have to climb into a boat to preach to them? Why else would he have to rise early in the morning to pray to his Father alone before he began another day of ministry? People really enjoyed listening to Jesus. And he healed people because he is compassionate.

Overall, Jesus was a great guy for those who wanted to be taught truth. And yet he still suffered beyond our comprehension for the truth that he taught. He was abandoned and betrayed by his closest companions, even those who said they would die for him. But when they had the opportunity to do just that, self took over and defeated whatever boldness they had attained (Phil. 3:16).

Speaking of Paul's letter to the Philippians, he told them to not be discouraged that he was being put in chains over and over for the sake of preaching the gospel. He wrote, "Now I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. Because of my chains, most of the brothers in the Lord have been encouraged to speak the word of God more courageously and fearlessly" (1:12-14). He also added, "I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain" (1:20-21).

So if we live only in hopes of being accepted by everyone, what do compliments do except glorify ourselves instead of Christ? The reality is that we cannot live like Christ and still think that we can attain everyone's approval. This is because the other reality is that not everyone enjoys hearing truth. After all, it makes them uncomfortable.

A Passion for Christ

2008-08-07T11:02:00.002-05:00

I have a passion to do something "big." But I'm writing this blog from my office desk that's in a building that is not much to look at. I write for a paper in a town of 5,000 people. And when I tell people, "Hi, I'm Michelle from the Colby Free Press," they look at me with a raised eyebrow of disbelief, often making me feel inferior to be in such a position.

But God has also given me a love for writing, and at this point, I'm discovering how He wants to use my love for writing. I have this blog and sometimes I'll write notes on Facebook. Obviously, I'm not quite at the status of a well-known writer, but I'm working on it. We've all got to start somewhere. And it's okay because every once in a while, I'll get a message or comment from someone letting me know that what I've written really impacted their lives and they have been encouraged by it.

I guess that's how I know I'm supposed to be a writer.

I heard someone once say, "If you wake up in the morning and the first thing you want to do is write and you just can't wait to get started, then you are meant to be a writer."

What we need to do with any passion, writing or otherwise, is turn it towards God. This means waking up every morning in anticipation to speak with God or to read His Word. A good writer relishes in practicing it every day; so should a Christian relish being in conversation with God throughout every day.

When I think of passionate faith, I often think of Paul. He was passionate before he even realized what he was doing to God's people. And even then, Paul was very passionate in what he believed to be true. I like reading about Paul because I can see how God used his radical passion to preach the gospel. He's an example of what it truly means to be passionate for Christ.

One more thing
We say we love God, but what are we doing with that love? Does it ever become more than something we esteem to be true? Or are our lives an overflow of our love for God? What if we loved God so much that we just couldn't keep it all in and our love for Him started to overflow and got on other people?

Not Too Small

2008-08-07T09:47:00.001-05:00

We always find ourselves saying, "I want to be used by God, but I don't have much to offer," or "I've just messed up too many times."

However, we need to remind ourselves of that radical Christian from the New Testament named Paul. Anyone who knows anything about Paul, formerly Saul, knows that he did not have the best track record before coming to Christ. Yes, he held a prestigious position, knew Jewish theology and the Roman law, but he also was a murderer. His misguided theology caused him to kill thousands upon thousands of Christians.

And yet that didn't stop God from using him. He didn't say, "Look at what you did, Saul. I don't think I can forgive you for what you did. You stepped too far over the line" No, He used Paul's accomplishments, knowledge and passionate attitude for His purpose.

Another example is Moses. As a baby, he had to be abandoned by his family, was adopted into the royal family, but then killed an Egyptian. He fled and found himself herding sheep before God told him to go free the Hebrew captives of Egypt. Oh, he also wasn't much of a speaker, either.

God also used Esther, a woman, a Jew and more or less a peasant. He made her queen so she could save her people.

If God can use murderers and peasants to expand His kingdom, I'm confident He can use you, too.

I have empty hands and even though I have told God that He can have all of me, sometimes I wish I had more to give than my all. But I'm reminded that that's where God comes in. He empowers me to become more than I am and able to do more than I can. And even though I have empty hands right now, I will patiently wait for Him to place something in them.

Not only do I feel small, but I am small. Really, I am 5 feet, 3 inches. I'm also quiet with a calm personality and I have a hard time verbalizing what I want to say.

I could go ahead and operate under an umbrella of self-pity, and allow myself to become depressed and angry at God's intended design. But God has given me a "gentle and quiet spirit," part of what it takes to be a godly woman. He also has given me the avenue of writing to express what I'm thinking and an ability to speak clearly in front of a live audience, instead of a casual group setting.

God's methods can be hard to detect sometimes as we so often try to explain exactly what He is doing. Of course, that's why He is God and we are not. We need to change our perspective. If we start looking at what He has given us, instead of what He didn't, we will become more aware of how He can use us instead of how He can't. And even then, God will use us in ways we don't think we are capable of.

I've already given you some examples of people God chose to use, and I want to challenge you to discover how God can use you so you can become a part of this list of great men and women of God

Graduating with a degree in...homemaking?

2008-08-06T09:38:00.000-05:00

Before young women were brain-washed by the idea that having a career was more important than having a family, most young women pursued the life of a wife and mother. There was actually an era when most young women were married before modern-day young women had graduated high school. In fact, these women desired nothing more than to find a husband and have children. That was the definition of their existence and they never questioned it.

Like I said, we young women have been brain-washed by society since that era. For some reason, a prestigious title next to our name is far better than changing diapers, sewing on buttons and scrubbing grass-stained T-shirts. And attending work-related functions would be a better use of our time than cheering at a son's soccer game, or fixing a daughter's tiara before a ballet recital.

However, the Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary noticed that there were young women who were wanting to return to historical and biblical womanhood. So they began offering a Bachelors in Humanities with a concentration in homemaking.

"The College of Southwestern endeavors to prepare women to model the characteristics of the godly woman as outlined in Scripture," reads the college website, "This is accomplished through instruction in homemaking skills, developing insights into home and family while continuing to equip women to understand and engage the culture of today."

When the news of this was released, it stirred the waters for a lot of people. They viewed it as impractical and unnecessary.

I beg to differ.

At college, an upperclassman and I were exchanging information about each other when she told me that even though she decided to go to college to get a degree, she really wants to just be a wife and a mother.

"I don't really have a desire to do anything else," she confided to me, "so that's why I decided to be a psychology major. I don't know what other major would really benefit my family."

I whole-heartedly agreed with her. I understand that a lot of people see me as a journalism-enthusiast, and sometimes I am. And sometimes I'm not. Like my psychology friend, I want to do something that will benefit me as a future wife and mother.

While reading this, some readers may be thinking, "Well, aren't you majoring in journalism? That sounds like a pursuit for a career to me."

And they're right. It does sound like I'm pursuing a career in the field of journalism, but truth be known that that is not my purpose or my goal.

Ideally, my dream job would be to write from the comfort of my home. I can picture it right now. I would wake up early in the morning, fix a cup of coffee, turn on my laptop and get to work in my customized, writing studio. I would read the latest news and my favorite blog updates, then start working on my latest article for an online magazine. After I e-mail in my article, I would write a blog update on my website and try to get a couple chapters written for my upcoming book.

I have no idea what my book would be about, but it would definitely be thought-provoking for both young and old generations--you know, one of those timeless books that English professors will make their students write reports on after I've been dead for 200 years.

Anyways, I'll spend the afternoon reading and researching for my thought-provoking book while spending quality time with my very own Prince Charming and a few adorable children.

That's only a tiny (slightly exaggerated) fraction of what I want to see my life like five years from now.

I'll admit that the idea of having my writing launch me to celebrity status someday can sometimes be enticing (though far from likely). But then again, do I want a writing career that will consume my life by eating up every hour of my day? Definitely not. For me, to be a wife, a mother and a writer at the same time would be a little taste of heaven on earth.

So will double majoring in Bible and Journalism help me accomplish this? I'm not sure. You will have to ask me five years from now.

Audience of One

2008-08-04T22:44:00.006-05:00

"By realizing the reality of our Prince within us, we are never bothered again by the fact that we do not understand ourselves, or that other people do not understand us. The only One who truly understands me is the One who made me and who redeems me...It is a tremendous freedom to get rid of every kind of self-consideration and learn to care about only one thing--the relationship between our Prince and ourselves."
- Oswald Chambers

As I prepare myself for college that will be in unfamiliar territory, it's easy to become apprehensive and consumed by anxiety. This is because I will probably be instantly labeled a quiet girl, which I will operate under for a long period of time. Unless someone happens to break down the walls built with inclinations to keep to myself. I guess that's what I am afraid of. As annoying as it may be sometimes, being quiet and overlooked can also be a comfort zone for me. I know how to deal with it. I know how to ease the pain of being forgotten. But I also know that letting others define who I am and how I should act is not healthy. So again, when I begin rooting myself at the college campus, I'm afraid that that's exactly what is going to happen.

But at the same time, I am reminded that I must "get rid of every kind of self-consideration and learn to care about only one thing"--my relationship with my heavenly Prince, Jesus Christ. And when I begin to build my life around that relationship, everything will fall into place. With the strength of His Spirit, it is far less likely that I will allow myself to live in the comforts of what I've been labeled as. He will also present opportunities for me to expand my surroundings, as well as to get to know more people. Life just makes so much more sense when my mind, body and soul are focused on Christ. This simple reminder eases every anxiety I have. Suddenly, I can breathe easier.

This makes perfect sense because if you read through the Psalms, God is described as peaceful and calm. Like still water. He is not a fan of a life that is fast-paced and chaotic, even though that's the typical American life. He would rather us stop making excuses for why we are not giving Him time to speak with us, or why we are unable to read His Word for more than five minutes. Instead, God's heart is stirred when we want nothing more than to learn more about Him and to spend time with Him. After all, wouldn't you feel the same way about someone you loved?

Dear Ladies

2008-08-04T09:54:00.006-05:00

Ladies,
There's something I want to say to you
My motive isn't out of spite
but the way you've been dressing just isn't right
And someone needs to stand up and say something
So please allow me to offer you some insight
It's plain and simple
True beauty can only come from Christ
Without Him, we are nothing
See, I used to think like you
That if I looked beautiful and alluring
And could attract the majority
I could bring them into the Kingdom
It was a subtle method
Full of implications and slight nudges
But I can attest that this method will fail
As Christ will unveil
Your selfish trail
So no longer do I use my body
To glorify myself
Instead of leading them to the One
Who is Life itself
And let me stress
Stop trying to impress
With the way you dress
As if your hip clothes
Are your profound witness
Just stop and question
if your clothing will lead to a brother's digression
And instead, clothe yourselves in kindness
And compassion
And Christ's love that's everlasting
We have lost the art of mystery
The world-altering and life-giving secret
Found in a life of set-apartness
And feminine mystique
Jesus Christ, your heavenly Prince
Wants to make your earthly body His royal residence!
The empowerment of His Spirit
Will open the gates
To a supernatural life
Among all the battles and strife
This is the secret that ushers in His kingdom
It's not looking for pleasure
But falling in love with the One
Whose love has no measure!
And it's not the belly button ring
Or the Jesus fish tattooed on your wrist
It's becoming like Jesus
Holy and blameless
Not consumed by appearance
A beautiful woman opens her arms to the poor
And extends her hands to the needy
She is clothed with strength and dignity
And can laugh at the days to come
Her speech is full of wisdom
And faithful instruction is on her tongue
Charm is deceptive
Appearance is ineffective
But a woman who fears the Lord
Is a woman to be a praised
And a woman to become
As she takes delight
In the heavenly Son

The Road Less Traveled

2008-08-02T17:33:00.007-05:00

"You will ask me, are you satisfied? Have you got all you want? God forbid. With the deepest feeling of my soul I can say that I am satisfied with Jesus now; but there is also the consciousness of how much fuller the revelation can be of the exceeding abundance of His grace. Let us never hesitate to say, this is only the beginning." - Andrew Murray

I've been treading down a narrow road for a while now, and it hasn't exactly been a walk in the park. There have been obstacles in my path that I've had to remove, stickers in my feet I've had to pluck out, and people who want to distract me from my journey. And the more I press on down this road of being set apart from the world and to live boldly for Christ, the more...well...unusual I'm becoming, even to the Christian community. Needless to say, my companions on this journey are few and far between. And to think that this is only the beginning.

I will admit that I've had to stop myself from turning around, or detouring to an easier road. My journey could be so much smoother and I'd be surrounded by people who are technically heading in the same direction and ending at the same destination. But that strong urge in my soul keeps pushing me onward, "forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." I am convinced that this way is the best way, even if it is harder.

Besides, what would I gain? What would I accomplish if I didn't have to do any hard work? God has called us to live supernatural lives, and what is supernatural about accomplishing something in my own strength? There is no way I can possibly make it to the end of this particular road without His strength. But somehow and in His own perfect way, He empowers me to keep going. After all, many great men and women have gone before me. And there's no reason why He would stop me from wanting to follow in their footsteps.

And to think that this is only the beginning...

Respected journalist or preacher without a pulpit?

2008-08-01T16:33:00.001-05:00

I feel like I'm in high school again, waiting for my last class to get over. But it's been a while since I've been in high school and instead of waiting for the clock to hit 3:18, and that annoying bell to set us free, I'm at work. And there's only an hour between me and the weekend.

Don't get me wrong. I don't hate my job. I'm interning at a small newspaper, so I frequently get to see my name in print for my stories and photos. And getting those bylines is extremely important for any aspiring journalist. When it comes to journalism, simply having a degree in journalism will not ensure you of getting a journalism job. It's all about experience--and those bylines.

However, I've been noticing lately that I've been struggling with my attitude. Most people think I'm a journalism-enthusiast, and at times I am. But other times, writing one news story after another can feel so...empty.

If you have been reading any of my blogs, you will notice a common theme that will thread them all together. And that theme is God. I have a hard time writing about anything else because it all seems pointless if I can't insert His hand into a story I write.

But, I can't write "Jesus loves you" and "God is love" in every other line of a story.

On the other hand, I have the privilege of writing my own column once a week. That gives me the freedom to write pretty much anything I want. And I do. But I'm having a hard time finding the balance between writing something that's relevant and interesting for my readers, while at the same time not coming off "preachy."

I wouldn't say that I live in a secular community, though. In fact, the majority are Catholic. So most people are conservative, both politically and religiously. If I wrote a pro-life column, it would be very unusual to receive any complaints on my opinion.
But if I were to write what I truly wanted to write about, people would probably feel like they were reading an excerpt from a Christian book, or maybe a devotional.

So here's my rumination for the weekend: Where is the line between proclaiming truth and not coming off as a preacher without a pulpit?

Captivated

2008-07-30T22:30:00.006-05:00

This song has been on repeat in my mind for several days. It was written by Vicky Beeching, who has accurately expressed what it truly means to be captivated by our heavenly Lover, Jesus Christ.

__________

Your laughter it echoes like a joyous thunder
Your whisper it warms me like a summer breeze
Your anger is fiercer than the sun in its splendor
You’re close and yet full of mystery
Ever since the day that I saw Your face
Try as I may, I cannot look away, I cannot look away

Captivated by You
I am captivated by You
May my life be one unbroken gaze
Fixed upon the beauty of Your face

Beholding is becoming, so as You fill my gaze
I become more like You and my heart is changed
Beholding is becoming, so as You fill my view
Transform me into the likeness of You

This is what I ask, for all my days
That I may, never look away, never look away
No other could ever be as beautiful
No other could ever steal my heart away
I just can’t look away

__________

A Real Woman

2008-07-29T17:05:00.012-05:00

The following excerpt was not written by me, but by Philip Hainline, Heidi Reimer and Maria Reimer (16, 17, and 19 years old at the time). I came across this at The Rebelution website, among their resources for Biblical Manhood/Womanhood. These teenagers came up with what it means to be "A Real Woman."

A real woman . . .
…is glad she’s a woman and rejoices in her femininity, expressing it through her attitude, appearance and bearing. (1 Timothy 2:9-10)

…does not compete for equality with men or chafe at God’s design for male and female, but delights in and understands the importance of her calling to complement man’s role. (1 Timothy 2:11-12, Ephesians 5:22-24)

…values the cultivation of her mind and diligently seeks after wisdom and knowledge. (Proverbs 22:17-21, 2:2-6)

…realizes her imperative need to allow the Holy Spirit to control her emotions and expressions of them. (James 1:19-20)

…does not wallow in self-pity or make a habit of voicing complaints, but radiates cheerfulness and joy. (Proverbs 15:15, Proverbs 17:22)

A real woman . . .
…appreciates her father’s protection, and respects and submits to his authority. In so doing, she is preparing herself to exercise the Biblical role in her relationship with a possible future husband. (Ephesians 5:33-6:3, 1 Peter 3:1-2)

…is trustworthy and gains the respect of those around her. (Proverbs 31:11)

…restrains herself from listening to, or participating in gossip, but instead speaks with wisdom and discretion. (Proverbs 11:12-13, 22, 20:19, 3:11)

…encourages and builds up those around her instead of criticizing and tearing them down. (1 Thessalonians 5:11, Ephesians 4:29)

…does not have a nagging, contentious or manipulative manner in which she deals with others. (Judges 16:16, Proverbs 21:9, 19, 26:21)

…is not boisterous or loud in her speech or actions but is characterized by a gentle and quiet spirit. (Proverbs 9:13, 1 Peter 3:4)

A real woman . . .
…portrays chastity, modesty and reverence in her manner, and wears the ornament of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is her true beauty. (1 Peter 3:3-4, Titus 2:4-5)

…is not offended by respect shown her through gentlemanly courtesies (opening doors, etc.) but cultivates the differences between the sexes that make her worthy of this deference. (1 Peter 3:7, Mark 10:6)

…seeks to make God her number one desire and the Lover of her soul, knowing that only He can fully satisfy. (Psalm 73:25, Psalm 63:1)

…uses her years of singleness to seek and serve God without distraction, and is content to leave the details of her future to Him. (Psalm 73:25, Philippians 4:11)

A real woman . . .
…does not relate to members of the opposite sex in a flirtatious or forward manner, but instead saves all her passion for her future husband. (Thessalonians 4:3-8, Proverbs 6:25, 1 Corinthians 7:1)

…holds her virginity before marriage sacred and will not compromise it for anything. (This one goes for guys too)
(1 Timothy 5:22)

You Just Lost One...

2008-07-26T13:57:00.002-05:00

To view more videos, click on the Passion for Christ Movement link on the right side bar. Or simply click the title of this video.

The Dark Knight faces the End of the Spear

2008-07-26T13:33:00.006-05:00

Lately, I've become pretty out of touch with pop culture. In fact, I had to find the preview for The Dark Knight on You Tube since I don't watch enough TV or movies to see a preview.

I've been debating quite a bit about whether it would be worth my time and money to see this movie. It seems that everyone and their mother has seen it, and it has accumulated quite the audience who is basically giving it a standing ovation.

But the more I read reviews, the more I felt sick. I mean, literal, physical, nauseating sickness. My palms got sweaty and my heart was pounding. I've noticed that the times I feel this way is when I'm unsure of what road to take; and one of the roads just doesn't...umm...feel right. Maybe it was from reading excerpts from reviews like the following:

Always a consummate professional, Ledger threw himself into a role he clearly relished, giving a transfixing performance as a whiny-voiced god of chaos whose hard-core nihilism is bone-chilling. - Los Angeles Times

An R-rating might have been more appropriate given the level of mayhem, darkness and destruction. - USA Today

Sensational, grandly sinister and not for the kids. - Chicago Tribune

On the other hand, there's a morally complex and positive side to this dark movie. Paul Asay, a reviewer for PluggedIn Magazine, writes, "Batman argues that the world's not governed by chance, but by choices. And when Dent dies, Batman makes the movie's most interesting choice of all: He takes the blame for the people Dent killed. He becomes, unjustly, a fugitive hated by the very people he's protecting."

It would appear that Batman displays an accurate portrayal of Christ himself, something that Christians should strive for every day. Also, according to Asay, Batman refuses to kill anyone, even in dire situations, and when the Joker definitely deserves it.

Many will argue that The Dark Knight is a battle of good vs. evil, which is true, but what lengths must a movie go in order to show that good wins? Asay wrote, "The Dark Knight is loaded with pseudo-spiritual themes and philosophical musings...but it's devoid of overt references to faith." But, sadly, even Asay is ambiguous in his conclusion of the movie on whether he recommends it or not.

To have the essence of pure evil--most know him as Satan--masked by a chaotic Joker, peppered with disturbing violence and call it entertainment is something I do not want etched in my mind.

I just finished watching End of the Spear, which tells the true story of five missionaries, who each had an exceptional desire to bring the gospel to the Waodani people. Feared by everyone who knew of them, the Waodani were only known for their relentless hunting and killing with their spears. The men finally made contact with the people, and a couple days after what seemed like a warm first encounter, the Waodani attacked without reason. They pierced each man through the chest, and while the men could have reached for their guns, they didn't.

Steve Saint, the son of Nate who was one of the missionaries speared, wrote:

God took five common young men of uncommon commitment and used them for his own glory. They never had the privilege they so enthusiastically pursued to tell the [Waodani people] of the God they loved and served. But for every [Waodani] who today follows God's trail through the efforts of others, there are a thousand [people] who follow God's trail more resolutely because of their example. This success withheld from them in life God multiplied and continues to multiply as a memorial to their obedience and his faithfulness.

Something, even in the form of entertainment, that will provoke my heart to live courageously for Christ is something worth my time. If it will stir my soul and give me the ability, through the power of Christ, to truly pray, "May I have the privilege of dying as a martyr for You," then set it before my eyes!

In conclusion, Batman has nothing on the five missionaries, who sacrificed their lives so that Christ may be glorified.

International Skip Church Day

2008-07-09T00:33:00.003-05:00

This event popped up on my home page earlier today, and after conjuring up various reasons why such an event must take place, I clicked on it. To paraphrase, International Skip Church Day was created to encourage church attending Christians to skip corporate worship to instead spend the day in prayer and reflection on the hypocrisy of the Church and the injustice in the world. According to the group description, "This is a symbolic move. It is an attempt at finding a tangible way to realize that our spirituality and our worship routines can be a distraction from being a follower of God, and sometimes we need something a little radical to re-focus our priorities."

Well, that sounds lovely. But frankly, not very radical. Skipping church is actually quite simple, especially when one is a college student living hours and/or thousands of miles from home. There is no parent to come in and drag their child to church. The removal of parental hovering will force him/her to choose to accept what they have been taught through their growing up years. And if they do choose to follow Christ, discipline must take place to further their relationship with Christ. That includes going to church, despite the absence of a parent or guardian.

Generally speaking, skipping church is actually pretty common. Whether it'd be work, a trip, or illness, sometimes they're there, sometimes they're not. Or, the most favored answer, maybe their heart is just not in the right place to fellowship with other believers. Basically, there really isn't anything out of the ordinary about skipping church.

This whole idea of "making a statement" appears to be coming right out of the emergent church movement that is rapidly gaining momentum in North America. The reverence and sacredness of church has been reduced in order to create a more friendly and socially acceptable atmosphere for people, whatever they may believe. In fact, it seems to have reversed the essence of Christianity. Yes, it does esteem the goodness of loving everyone and extending grace and forgiveness, even to unbelievers. But the emergent church, in short, lacks discipline, strength and the pursuit of absolute truth while strongly advocating tolerance. Church has become so self-centered, how it can benefit me, how it can fulfill my needs, when it needs to be about God and encouraging other believers. And isn't the church supposed to be the place where we can go and re-evaluate our priorities? What would the lack of going truly do, except further the assumption that we are lazy?

With this in mind, remind yourself of the countries where it is illegal to attend church, or gather with other believers in any form. Therefore, isn't it a disgrace to those who risk their lives when we flippantly skip church as a "statement"? To believe in the one and only God, even if it means the death of one and his family, is a statement!

Rise up, Christians! As Paul writes in Philippians, "Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then, whether I come and see you or only hear about you in my absence, I will know that you stand firm in one spirit, contending as one man for the faith of the gospel."

In the words of Jim Elliot, I pray "Light these idle sticks of my life and may I burn for Thee. Consume my life, my God, for it is Thine..."

And then I'll go to church.

Completely

2008-07-07T10:25:00.001-05:00

I knew it had to happen soon, but I finally hit rock bottom. I'm not talking about the typical criteria for a rock bottom dweller. There were no drugs, alcohol, debt, etc. involved. I mean the heart of my heart dropped to a level of shameful depravity. Actually, it started a few days ago as I was driving home from work.

God had been intensely tugging at my heart, whispering a plea for me to give myself completely to Him. But my mind kept colliding with my heart as I tried to reason my way out of such a radical commitment. As much as I longed for a deep intimacy with Christ, my surrounding culture (including the Christian community) told me that that was unnecessary. They said that God just cared about me living a moral life and making sure He crosses my mind every now and then.

But my heart strongly desired for something more. To not only know about my precious Savior, but to truly know Him, His attributes, characteristics, and dreams for me. It was a prayer I had been praying for several weeks, while omitting my need for the strength of my Father's Spirit.

Lyrics to a song played over and over through my car's speakers: "I want to love enough to give/give enough die/die enough to live my life for such a sacrifice..."

How could I possibly justify that I didn't need to give Christ my entire life even though He laid His down for me? Tears streamed down my face as I thought about the woman I had become. Even though people were telling me over and over how wonderful and amazing and godly I am, I knew it was mostly out of my own ability and my need to please the audience. But my limited abilities can only go so far. After erasing all comparisons of my contemporary female peers, my ugly sinful flesh cried out in agony.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose" sang the young woman.

The memory of a dream I had a couple months ago rested on my mind. I re-envisioned myself falling freely through darkness before being caught by God's strong arms. I was a different person after that free fall. Ephesians 4:22-24 says, "You were taught with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness."

We hear so often that to find true beauty, we must look to ourselves and find our own unique beauty. The problem with this good-hearted piece of advice is that it hardly ever works. We'll dig and dig into ourselves, trying to find something beautiful, something that is of worth, but without Christ, we are nothing. To remove God's being from ourselves, there is no beauty, no shimmer, no radiance. True beauty comes from Christ.

I wanted to be beautiful because of Christ. I wanted Him to be preeminent in my life. I wanted nothing to stand in the way of the intimate relationship I wanted with Him.

When I arrived home, I went straight downstairs to my room and fell on my bed, my soul still in agony. My eyes stung with tears as songs of surrender played in the background. From the deepest part of my heart I cried out to God, confessing every way I ashamed His name. The list was long. I asked for forgiveness and for the strength to give myself completely to Him, no matter what it will cost me.

"I'm afraid of doing this, but I want to. Please comfort me, God..."

"Trust me," I felt Him whisper.

As the next few days played out, I have found myself becoming more aware of my behavior and what I need to change. I've been in a constant battle of crushing my sinful desires that cunningly creep in. I pray for God to be my hands and feet, to direct my thinking and actions. For encouragement, my fingers turn to Ephesians 3:14-21:

"For this reason, I kneel before the Father from whom His whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you being rooted and established in love may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus, throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."

Thirsting for God

2008-06-19T22:25:00.006-05:00

__________

O God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you,
my body longs for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.

I have seen you in the sanctuary
and beheld your power and your glory.
Because your love is better than life,
my lips will glorify you.
I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied
as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips
my mouth will praise you.

On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
Because you are my help,
I sing in the shadow of your wings.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.

Psalm 63:1-8
__________

A Reminder

2008-05-16T23:53:00.004-05:00

I saw this on one of my friend's Facebook profiles. It's a beautiful thought that needs to be reiterated often:

"A woman's heart must be so hidden in Christ that a man must be seeking the Lord to find it." ~Anonymous

As I've been reading through Authentic Beauty by Leslie Ludy, this idea of being completely consumed by Christ is repeated over and over again. And I've learned that repetition equals emphasis...and great importance. In this case, this method of repetition has resulted in the fact that being "hidden in Christ" is the most important. Yes, to be immersed in our relationship with Christ is scary to think about because it also causes us to think about what it will cost us. But just from a short period of time of preoccupying my mind with Jesus, I saw how quickly He overwhelmed my mind with blessings and my life with love. While I do have a strong desire to be a wife and a mother, my strongest desire must be to cultivate and strengthen my relationship with my precious, heavenly Lover. I need to truly learn and believe that He can really be enough for me. That's what it takes to be a set-apart young woman, who dreams and desires differently from her female peers.

Leslie writes, "From the moment we wake up until the moment we go to sleep, He must become the center. And when He does, we quickly realize that God's dreams unlock the beauty of life itself." She chose the word "quickly" for a reason because a Christ-like mind does not take long to see the blessings He has poured out and continues to pour out. God is a beautiful, romantic, ambitious, courageous and faithful God. So why should we be afraid to give him the key to unlock his dreams for us?

I Will Go

2008-05-05T20:37:00.002-05:00

It's that time of year when less showers are taken, all-nighters are more frequent, and some faces will be looking a little scruffy. Maybe it's just my campus, but as students pour into classrooms during this time of year, physical appearance is no longer a top priority for attending class.

"Y'all are looking a little weary," said my teacher of New Testament Literature and Interpretation at the beginning of our last class together. Some students understandably call it dead week. My campus is pretty straight forward by calling it finals week.

As I finish up my sophomore year of college, I'm forced to look back and think about the experiences, incidents, and prayers that got me here. My adviser said the conclusion of the sophomore year is a time to decide whether you want to continue what you're doing, stick with the same major and college, or decide if it's time to change up the pace. I'm currently 1100 miles from home, studying communications with an emphasis in journalism at an excellent, private Christian college. Some people would love to be where I am, but lack of finances and/or the ability to leave the familiar keeps them from experiencing what I've been able to experience. I told my adviser that Bryan College was a good place for me to get a solid foundation in my faith that I could build on and grow.

But in the fall of 2007, I encountered a major shift in my life. By taking off the semester of my sophomore year, I toured with the Continental Singers for three, solid months. We all met in Los Angeles on September 4 and rehearsed the program for eight days before taking it on the road. We traveled through the United States, Canada and Great Britain (England, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland). Our tour ended December 3 back in Los Angeles where it all began. Through the coarse of this tour, I was given the job of Business Manager. While the numbering system and I are not the best of friends, I did the job to the best of my ability, while learning that God doesn't care about our ability, but our availability. I wrote pages of things I had learned while on tour, many that often resonate in my mind when I'm going through stressful periods of life.

Since we toured by bus, the 29 of us (including director, bus driver and his wife) got to know each other very well. The only times we weren't all together was during the hours of night when we stayed with different host families. I got to know some incredible people through the tour, including a few that I have come to know as my best friends. Our last night together was definitely a bittersweet moment since in the back of our minds we knew that we would never all be together again like we were in that moment, and through all of tour. When the bus dropped the few of us at our terminal for departure, my heart overflowed with tears. I didn't know how I was going to go back to life without these people who laughed, cried, sang and danced with me.

Since then, I've returned back to Bryan, continued my education and worked to re-connect myself with the student body. It took some effort and many instances of forcing myself out of my comfort zone. Some friendships were gained, some were lost. When I wasn't able to find a roommate, I was very disappointed and even annoyed that someone wouldn't be there to help me re-establish myself. But now I realize that God needed me alone so I could give Him my full, undistracted focus. My mind was consumed by my own desires, the things that I lacked, and the things I wish I could change. There were many times when I felt lonely and discouraged that my efforts to connect with students were failing, so I spent hours and hours in His Word, listening to His Words, learning his characteristics and attributes, worshiping Him, and eventually cultivating a deep love for Him. During one quiet afternoon, I was hit by the knowledge that God had overwhelmed me with blessings, even though He didn't give me everything that I asked for. I wanted to cry out of thankfulness for everything He had done for me. While He didn't pour on the friendships here at Bryan, He gave me my best friendships through means of the Continental Singers. He opened the door for me to grow and blossom.

Now I'm sitting here on the last Monday afternoon I will have here, reminiscing about my beginning years of adulthood. I'm both smiling at sweet memories and grimacing at the times I failed and ashamed myself. And though I'm apprehensive about my future, I couldn't be more excited to encounter a new beginning. After a huge amount of prayer, thinking, researching, and seeking advice from those I respect, I've decided to transfer to a Bible college in Portland, OR. I'm not sure how it's all going to work out, but I have peace that it will. While I have skipped over some major steps and experiences that I've had to take to get me to this point, I can say with 100 percent confidence that God has been preparing me to relocate my life and education to the other side of the continent. Not only is freedom from sin a glorious feeling, but the freedom to go which ever way God directs me is liberating. I feel like a leaf that will float wherever God blows the wind.

I will admit, though, that I have an underlying fear that I'm relocating for the sake of selfish ambition. From brief visits to the city of Portland to visit friends that I came to know through Continental Singers, I have the belief that it's the place I've always wanted to be. It is just a couple hours from snow-capped mountains and the splashing waves of the west coast with the college sitting in the heart of Portland. Known as the greenest, and cleanest, city in America, Portland is ornamented by an urban, trendy community with big ideas. I do realize, though, that being a farmer's daughter, who has grown up in a small town and is known to speed down isolated, country roads, I will have to learn a new way of life. The idea of maneuvering around a city makes me a little nervous and I'll probably get a few not-so-friendly finger signals, but that's ok. A new beginning has got to start somewhere.

So that's where I'm at in life right now. Who knows what this summer will bring. I've really given up making too many long-term plans because God has a reputation for changing them, so I'll just float along. The thought of moving to Portland would never have crossed my mind if I didn't tour with the Continental Singers where I met some amazing people, and I have God to thank for that. All of it has lead me to this avenue that I am about to take. But then again, life is a highway, isn't it?

Let me not be blind with privilege
Give me eyes to seek the pain
Let the blessing You've poured out on me
Not be spent on me in vain
Let this life be used for change
- "I Will Go" by Starfield

Love Like You

2008-05-02T20:32:00.002-05:00

__________

My mind fails to find words of praise
Hands freeze to pen Your fame
Heart drenched in rain
Showered by Your love and faithfulness
God, I don’t deserve this!
It rivals the most intimate kiss
And the warmest embrace
My heart can’t contain my thankfulness
As tears fall down my face
Will You please hold me closer, tighter, longer?
Let me breathe in the fragrance of sweet affection
And satisfaction
Pull and fasten my heartstrings to Your wrists
Fight my fears with Your strong fists
My Savior, my Prince
Can it get any lovelier than this?
__________

Christ's Fullness Equals Set-Apartness

2008-04-20T13:53:00.004-05:00

"I ask that God, out of His infinite supply of spiritual riches, would mightily supply your inner life with His Spirit's enabling power, so that Christ, your heavenly Prince, might make your inner sanctuary His sacred residence as you lean more and more on Him. And I also desire that you would be able to comprehend, along with all God's set-apart children, the extraordinary and life-altering dimensions of Christ's love. But even more than comprehending this love in your mind, I want you to know it experientially, deep within your heart, so that you may have every ounce of God within you that is humanly possible to have." - Ephesians 3:16-19, paraphrase

Encouragement for a Set-Apart Woman

2008-04-20T13:32:00.004-05:00

"Trust Me, My child," He says. "Trust Me with a fuller abandon than you ever have before. Trust Me, as minute succeeds minute, every day of your life, for as long as you live. And if you become conscious of anything hindering our relationship, do not hurt Me by turning way from Me. Draw all the closer to Me, come, run to Me. Allow Me to hide you, to protect you, even from yourself. Tell Me your deepest cares, your every trouble. Trust Me to keep My hand upon you. I will never leave you. I will shape you, mold you, and perfect you. Do not fear, O child of My love, do not fear. I love you." - Paraphrased from "If" by Amy Carmichael

I Had A Dream...

2008-04-18T23:41:00.003-05:00

Dreaming is perhaps one of the most perplexing phenomenons that the human body experiences. The origin of dreams that the mind creates and the reason for dreaming are still unknown among experts. Twelve percent report to dream only in black and white, and a large majority experience recurring dreams and themes in dreams.

Personally, I dream quite often and quite vividly. I could probably write an entire book based on one dream because I can recall people, what they said, what I said, what we were wearing, where we were, what we were doing, etc. I even experience touch and smell. I also have the recurring themes of falling and saving people, whether just my friends and family, or the entire human race. In my falling dreams, I'll feel my stomach drop like it does on roller coasters. My dreams are so vivid that there have been countless occasions where I have woken up and was surprised that it was just a dream. Because of this, I have often wondered if there is meaning behind some of my dreams. However, since I have met only few people who dream as vividly as I do, I reluctantly dismiss the idea that there might be a meaning in one of my dreams.

But after my dream a couple nights ago, I haven't been able to just let it go. It was perhaps the most vivid, realistic, spiritual dream I have ever had. I keep shaking my head every time I think about it.

I found myself journeying at night with several people, whom I did not recognize. We were all on our way to meet God, but the others I was with were not so anxious to see Him. We saw an old fountain that appeared to not have been used for decades and decided to use it as a resting spot.

"We don't really need to keep going, do we? We can just stay here," said one of the guys. He laid himself across the edge of the fountain and closed his eyes.

"No, we have to keep going," I responded. Everyone moaned, but they listened to me and we moved on.

The dream transitioned and we were now in a small room, standing in line and waiting to meet God. I was first in line. I cannot recall any physical or facial features, but I knew that it was God who was standing near me. He was off-centered, in front and to the right of me. He didn't say anything so I looked down and saw a pair of shoes that happened to match the dress I was wearing. It wasn't a fancy dress or anything, just a summer dress with some floral prints across the bottom of it, and the shoes were really nice, too. After taking note of the shoes, I looked back at Him.

"You have to do it. I know it won't be easy, but you just have to let yourself do it," He said softly to me. I didn't say anything, but something inside of me said, "Ok, I'll do it." Before my left foot was even half-way in the shoe, I dropped through the floor as if it were a cloud. Everything was black around me, but I could see my dress. I glided through the nothingness for several seconds, and even though I knew that I was falling, it didn't seem to really bother me. I stretched out my arms and closed my eyes as I continued to fall. It wasn't the kind of falling that I usually experienced in dreams. It was more graceful. Suddenly, I could feel something inside of me changing. Then I felt my skin changing--not in appearance, but...just different. I was a little uncomfortable with it at first, but then it didn't bother me, either. I remember wondering, though, "Am I dying? Is this what it feels like to die?"

Then, as quickly as I fell through the floor, I came down from the ceiling and nearly collapsed on the floor. But God caught me in His arms. He held onto me for a few moments until I could stand again. As He held me, He said in His gentle voice, "You did it! That wasn't so bad, was it? I'm so proud of you." I smiled and nodded in agreement. The others were still in the room and they surrounded me with their silence.

"You guys have to do this! You just have to do it! It's the most freeing feeling in the world!" I said over and over again. I was very persistent about it. But no matter how much I insisted, nobody followed me. Instead, they acted like nothing had happened.

And that was the end.

I opened my eyes, shocked that it was yet another dream. I laid there for a moment, recalling every detail I possibly could because I knew that if I didn't, the memory of it would fade just like any other dream. Scrunching my eyebrows, I tried to reason with myself that it was just a dream and fought against the strong feeling that perhaps it really did happen.

And now I'm still wondering if it really did happen. Or maybe God was telling me something.

What is it that I need to do? What exactly did I just do?

I know many people disagree that God talks to us through dreams, but I'm not fully convinced of that. There are numerous times in the Bible that God instructed His followers through a vision. Why would He act any different now then He did in the biblical era?

Basically, the main reason I'm even posting about my dream is to help me preserve the memory of it. And if someone can offer me any guidance, it would be greatly appreciated.

Enjoying the Silence

2008-04-10T04:58:00.005-05:00

It's nearly 6 am. I've been awake since about 4:45 am, and I'm pretty sure I had been asleep for only a couple hours. I've been battling some sickness, including a headache. So, when I woke up and my headache was worse, I had no choice but to consume a good amount of caffeine to kill it. It's nearly gone now, but during these times when the rest of the Western Hemisphere is sleeping and God is the only person available, we talk and look at pictures. And then I start missing home, the places I've been, the people I've met and grown to love. I look at pictures of me that were taken just the year before and see a completely different person.

See, there's this portrait that God has been painting since I was born. It's mostly been just outlines of my face and some sketches of my features, but now He's been adding defined lines, some colors and shades and even those three dots that make a triangle directly on my right jawline. I'm not sure when He'll be done with my picture. But when He is, He'll hang it up in His gallery and when people come to visit Him, He'll show them my picture and tell them, "This is my precious daughter, Michelle. Isn't she beautiful? I'm so proud of her." Well, I'm hoping He'll say the latter.

But you know what? This life isn't about me. I wasn't created for me. It's a hard thing to accept, though, especially when I'm in every scene. If I leave a room, I'm in the next scene. When I dream, I'm always the protagonist. I'm there in the morning and I'm there as I fall asleep. Time follows me wherever I go, but it's still not about me.

And this is the next part of my journey, making the realization that life isn't about me, but everyone else. It's learning to holds hands with the world and let them come with me on this journey. There's people who live just to be loved, and I've been given so much love that it's hard to keep it all to myself. It overflows and gets on other people, and that makes me happy while it confuses them at the same time. Some people ask me why I love them, and sometimes I don't have an answer. But it's been ruminating in my mind for a while. I guess...since Christ is in me and I am an image of God, then I reflect who He is. As crazy as that sounds, I love because God loves. He loves people through me. That's how I've come to figure it. Oh! But if someone were to actually acknowledge His love that is in me, "to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge." That makes my love look like....a pat on the shoulder. Maybe. Or perhaps a nice smile in the person's general direction. Ya, that's what my love looks like compared to God's. His love is a love that is worth pursuing.

You know, it's interesting to see how connecting thoughts seem to string together a central theme, which is...because God loves us.

A Rumination

2008-04-04T21:39:00.007-05:00

To wake up to a faithful sun

And a faithful God

To begin the day with You on my mind

To pray until I forget I’m on my knees

To feel blessed by the things I did not receive

To let Him reach into the basin of my mind

And touch the feelings no one has ever seen

To fall in love with Him

To let it just be the two of us

Talking, walking in the rain

Pouring His heart out to me

And mine to Him

To see beauty

And Him smiling at me

A smile more beautiful than my mind can write

To delight in His creativity

To see His love for those He created

To fall asleep safely in His arms

And dream about life and love until morning

When I will wake up to the faithful Son

A New Destination

2008-04-02T19:18:00.007-05:00

Last summer, I interned at my local newspaper, working as a general assignment reporter and photographer. For one of my story assignments, I went to the experiment station to take some pictures to go with my story. I felt so lucky when I was able to snap this shot. I don't even have to really allude to what this picture portrays. Unfortunately, my publisher chose a different picture to put in the paper, but I still hung on to it.

Today, I felt like changing up this page a bit by changing the picture in the top right corner, so while I was looking through all the pictures on my computer, I came across this one. It brought a smile to my face...and then amazement to my mind and heart. God never rests in teaching me, and the last couple days have been pretty heavy. I'm learning about the importance of letting God consume me from the inside out. More specifically, I'm learning to be a set apart woman of God. It's a message by Leslie Ludy, bestselling author and creator of the Authentic Girl ministry. Leslie and her husband, Eric, wrote a book, "When Dreams Come True," that many Christian young people are familiar with. It completely transformed my perspective of dating as it rebuked our natural tendencies to manipulate and maneuver our way into a relationship. After reading the book, I became somewhat familiar with her Authentic Girl ministry and even made comments on the Eric and Leslie Ludy forum from time to time. But, of course, work and school took priority in my life and visits to the website and forum became rare.

However, last week, I received an e-mail from Leslie, inviting young women to a Set Apart Girl Weekend that would take place at her house in Windsor, CO, later that summer. It had been a long time since I had been on the website, so I didn't know what this whole "Set Apart" thing was all about. She sounded very enthusiastic about the message of the book she has been working on called "Set Apart Femininity – God’s Sacred Intent for Every Young Woman." The title intrigued me enough, so as soon as I could, I signed up for the weekend. And then I went in search for what it meant to be a "set apart" woman that she was talking about. She wrote on the front page of her website:

"'The preoccupations of young women - their looks, their clothes, their social life - don't seem to change from generation to generation, but in every generation, there seem to be a few who make other choices.' When I first read that statement at 17, it sparked a hunger within me to be among those 'few' young women in my generation who embraced a life fully set-apart of Jesus Christ."

I've had that same kind of hunger for a while, but not to the high extent as of recently. She has podcasts on iTunes of her talking about her new book, which gave me heavy doses of both inspiration and conviction. An initial response to her view of what it means to be a "set apart" woman of God may sound extreme, but she gave examples of people like Amy Carmichael and other women who have fully dedicated their lives to Jesus Christ. Their love for God and desire to do nothing but His will made these women radiant and beautiful as they set themselves apart from the world's mediocre expectations. They are so in love with God that it totally consumes them. Each waking moment begins with, "How can I serve God today?" Leslie even criticized the message of Christians who say that women just need to love themselves in order to feel beautiful. It's a real struggle because we will dig and dig into ourselves, trying to uncover something that's beautiful, but we can't find it because we aren't looking for Christ. Who is more radiant and beautiful than Him? His love for us is unprecedented, no one can surpass His knowledge or creativity.

Leslie appears to have found the key to unlock the desire of "a version of Christ-like femininity that is triumphant, beautiful, and world-altering." The key is simply a devoted heart to Jesus.

Perhaps our destination shouldn't just be "beautiful," but to be set apart, beautiful women of God, to be a flower that stands out from the thousands that surround it.

Something Beautiful

2008-03-30T20:04:00.004-05:00

Once I think I've learned the most important part about my life in Christ, without fail I will learn something even bigger. From learning the importance of obedience, the ability to take on the "hard things" in life, experiencing the liberation of letting God control my life, and now, learning to accept who I am in Christ. Through it all, my knowledge about the nature of God is growing. I'm getting to know who my dear Father is, the One I always cry out to as I beg Him to fix the things that I messed up. It's all God's way of shaping and molding me. It seems the more I learn about my faith and who God is, my view of Him just keeping getting bigger...and bigger...and BIGGER! It's like going to a fireworks shows, and the show is more awesome, more amazing, more spectacular each time I go to see it...which is quite often.

Sometimes, though, it takes a while before I catch on to what He is trying to teach me. The soft whispers in my heart are, well...on mute. But since God isn't one who gives up, He'll start shouting at me, continue to persist and relentlessly convicts my heart. Somehow, some way, He'll get to me. He's just not a conventional God, I've learned. He likes to think outside the box to keep us wondering what He'll do next. For example, I believe He used a song by Nick Lachey to tell me that I need to give all of myself to Him. Also, think about this one: What other religion would send their god to earth and put him in a feeding trough? That's not exactly the kind of grand entrance we'd expect from a King who is supposed to redeem the entire world and save mankind from eternal condemnation. But that's just God's nature. He operates on a subtle level, but is still able to have an impact that has surpassed every other religious movement. Such a humble God we serve.

So, all of this does have a point. The point is that getting to know God is a beautiful thing. While discovering His divine nature and personality can only create a few flakes of who He is, each new discovery is something beautiful.

I'll stand with arms high and heart abandoned
In awe of the One who gave it all

Lady in Waiting

2008-03-05T21:55:00.006-06:00

The Lady in Waiting

recklessly abandons herself
to the Lordship of Christ,
diligently uses her single days,
trusts God with unwavering faith,
demonstrates virtue in daily life,
loves God with undistracted devotion,
stands for physical and emotional purity,
lives in security,
responds to life in contentment,
makes choices based on her convictions,
and waits patiently for God to meet her needs.

--Lady in Waiting by Jackie Kendall and Debby Jones

Welcome!

2008-02-29T17:38:00.002-06:00

Creating a blog for young women is something I have been wanting to do for a long time. Finally, I somehow managed to stop making excuses (i.e. too busy, too tired, too lazy); despite a heavy load of work ahead of me, here I am. The reason I have been wanting to do such a thing is because, well, I happen to be a young woman, too. I understand where other young women are coming from because we're dealing with a lot of the same issues. It's also a great importance to be there for each other. We thrive on relationships, interaction, community, intimacy. We feel incomplete if that kind of component is missing from our lives. We need this closeness to each other because it’s the root of words of affirmation, which is a primary love language for many of us. We just love feeling…loved. Adored. Beautiful.

That’s what the true challenge is. Accepting that we are indeed beautiful is not an innate ability. In fact, it’s a constant struggle. When we look in the mirror, we don’t usually see a beautifully, crafted female staring back at us. It’s almost as if we look for the flaws instead of the beauty that is there. Who defines beautiful, anyways? Or maybe the question is, who do we let define beauty?

If you don’t get anything else out of this blog, wrap your mind around this one concept. There is a war between God and the world. They want complete control of our minds, our hearts, our bodies, our souls. Who is going to win? You know it’s not easy or hardly possible to live with one foot in God’s plan while the other is hanging out with the world. Decide now where you are going to stand. I want you to become a woman after God’s own heart, in a constant thirst for more of Him. Knowing Him is loving Him, and loving Him is loving yourself. He loves the way He made you. Discover it. Embrace it.

But I’m not asking you to do it on your own. Trust me. That won’t work. I’m going on this journey with you. Our destination: Beautiful.

And you know what? I’m excited.