Checking the Rear View Mirror

Have you ever had one of those moments when you pull into your driveway and realize that you don’t remember driving home? I’m having one of those moments. All of a sudden, I looked up and realized that I am 4 days short of being home for Christmas and halfway through the Fellows Program. How did that happen?! I don’t want to let all the wonderful experiences from the last semester slip by, so I think it’s time for a study break to reflect on the past 4 months.

I still remember pulling into my host family’s driveway right as my host mom was putting out a sign that said, “Welcome Home Keri!” in purple paint that still hadn’t quite dried all the way. This very same sign would stay in the driveway for the next month, reminding me that this really was home. I remember walking through the front door, directly into a flurry of hugs and introductions, followed quickly by the order to put my shoes back on because we were going to a party. I went from not knowing a soul in Charlottesville to meeting 10 former fellows and an array of Trinity members in the span of an hour.

The next morning I nervously walked into the Trinity foyer to overhear Elizabeth and Hannah telling someone they were new fellows. I cannot begin to describe to you how relieved I was to know they were there, and I didn’t even know them yet! By the end of the service I had been introduced to Murry, Kristin, Christine, and Alex and John gave me a hug but didn’t introduce himself until much later. Typical J-Flan.

Of course there was the Kick-Off Banquet where we tried to determine who was a current fellow and who were the former fellows we were supposed to be learning from. That’s where we all met David, who’s name we didn’t even know until that night! As we awkwardly huddled together looking up at the barn window, none of us suspected that we would be taking the picture that would adorn websites, blog posts, Christmas cards, and even the cake we ate for dessert at Roundtable last week. To be fair, it ended up being a great picture. Not to mention a delicious cake.

Who could forget our adventurous weekend of rafting and climbing? Nothing like facing your biggest fears the very first weekend to facilitate group bonding! Thank you again to whoever decided that we should climb the cliff in a girl-guy pattern and volunteered me as tribute to take the lead. You owe me. I do have to admit though, sitting on the top of that ledge was one of the coolest things I have ever done.

I would be remiss if I failed to mention the precious time spent at Alex’s cabin for the testimony retreat. It was beautiful to be able to share in the tears, laughter, sorrow, and joy peppered throughout the stories of the other Fellows.  What a gift to be invited into each of their lives for this part of their journeys. Of course, the cherry on top was the opportunity to laugh and rest together, with the highlight being watching Alex pancake Dennis in a tubing war. There is, of course, an abundance of photographic proof.

New York. That happened. From listening to Mako Fujimura, to watching visual artists perform, to figuring out which of the shower stalls at the hostel was least likely to be hazardous to my health, New York was an experience. We stayed busy the entire time, but we still managed to make time to take a picture in Times Square. It’s all about priorities right?

At long last there were the much anticipated youth group retreats for high school and middle school. The jury is still out on how “Modgnik” is pronounced and whether “Tree-hugging Tilly” is actually Rachel’s real identity. It cannot be denied, however, that Ben and Rachel love these youth group kids with all their hearts. I am constantly impressed by their dedication to serving and loving these kids. I would be even more impressed if they actually drank the smoothies of death they get the kids to drink at youth group, but I seriously doubt that will ever happen.

The Calling and Career retreat at Michael’s cabin may have been my favorite weekend in the Fellows Program so far. Despite the fact that I did not hear a voice from God telling me what my future vocation will be starting June 1, 2014, I left feeling full. Dennis graciously gave me the opportunity to lead a discussion about the Clifton StrengthsFinder, which opened doors to some beautiful conversations about using our gifts as a way of serving this community. The memories I will treasure most though, are sitting on the stairs with Rachel, Mallory, and Elizabeth just talking about life, listening to Christine, Jordan, Hannah, and Wilson play music that I’m fairly confident I will hear again in Heaven, being with Elizabeth when she got exciting news about med school, and listening to Jordan talk about his passion for music. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

However, to think that the experience of the last 4 months can be captured in snapshots of weekends away would be a gross transgression. The heart of this program is found in the everyday things; in laughing around the dinner table on family night, in getting a superhero pillow from your host brother because your room is “too girly” and you “need it more” than he does, in driving to Richmond with your host sisters to find the perfect homecoming dresses, in laying hands on a hurting sister at bible study, in tackling hard questions with youth group kids after smashing each others’ faces in baked beans in the name of Jesus, in the look of relief on your boss’s face when you accept a huge project without complaint and turn it in without mistakes, in listening to Dennis’s kids tell you about St. Thomas for the 16^th time and still loving every detail, in sitting with Jess just talking about life and checking the clock to realize it’s been 3 hours, in getting a hug from Greg and really understanding how much love is being conveyed, in staying up late to study for your final exam because you actually want to know about God’s faithfulness throughout generations, in waking up to 30 missed messages on the group text stream, in being volun-told that we will stack every chair owned by Trinity Presbyterian Church as many times as humanly possible over a 9-month period,  in waking up early to make coffee and pancakes for our church family on Sunday mornings, and in the truths God is whispering into each of our lives as we journey through this time together.

I know that when I go home for Christmas, my family and friends will ask me to tell them what I’ve been up to. I will try, but I make no promises that I will be able to really convey all that I have experienced in the last 4 months. The truth is, there is no readers digest version. We serve a BIG God and he writes the stories of our lives in equal proportion. There is no 20 questions description for this experience. Is it bigger than a breadbox? Yes. Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral? Nope. I can only say this, if you could see my heart (the spiritlike one, not the one full of chambers and an aorta), you would see a joyous party. It hasn’t all been fun and games; we ran out of chips a couple times and somebody broke an expensive vase, but it is a wonderful celebration nonetheless and it’s not stopping anytime soon.

**For more information on the Trinity Fellows Program, check out the website here.

***If you're going to be graduating soon, leave me a comment or send me an email, I'd love to talk to you about moving to Charlottesville for a year and doing this program.

Scar Stories

I think I met an angel today.

He was 16 years old.

I know, weird.

So here's the story. I'm an intern for a company that REALLY likes soda, and everybody has their own carbonated beverage of choice. As the intern, it is my distinct honor to be personally responsible for making sure that we are adequately stocked with the fizzy nectar of goodness at all times. Today was shopping day.

Today was also the day I forgot to take my medicine.

Repeat after me: "Keri, you're a GENIUS!"

So I spent an hour throwing my entire body into navigating a cart overflowing with milk and honey (and by milk and honey I obviously mean water bottles and fridge packs of soda) through the maze that they call Kroger, and it hurt. Like a lot. After being dragged down the steep decline from the store to my car by a shopping cart that could hold its own in the next Die Hard movie, I was nearly in tears. "A little help God?" I popped my trunk and stared hopelessly at the cases of water and braced myself for the shooting pains that I knew were coming the second I tried to lift that 32 pack. Right as I reached for it though, I heard a voice over my shoulder asking, "May I help you with your groceries?"

Standing just behind me was my own personal angel. He wasn't glowing, but I'm still pretty confident in my assessment.

Under normal circumstances, I would have said no. In fact, I probably would have been offended and muttered to myself, "Do I look like I'm 80?!" But today was different. Today I needed all the help I could get. Today, I smiled and said, "Yes actually, I could really use some help."

I stood back and watched as he expertly loaded my tiny car with enough sugary drinks and snacks to give the entire state of Virginia diabetes, and then I thanked him with a smile and drove off.

God takes good care of me. Thank you, mystery teen!

Possibly the greatest thing about having arthritis is that it gives me regular opportunities to be reminded how much God loves me and how capable He is of taking care of me.

About 2 weeks ago I was sitting in a seminary class when my prof made a passing reference to the fact that Jesus already has his resurrection body. It wasn't his main point, which is a bummer because I actually don't remember any thing else about that lecture... I should probably brush up before the final! Anyway, I got stuck on that comment. It make sense that he would have his resurrection body already, I mean, he was resurrected and all, but I'd never made that connection before. And to be honest, it really bothered me. So after class, I walked up to the prof and told him what was on my mind.

"Dr. W, you said that Jesus already has his resurrection body, right?"
"That's right."
"But he still had scars in his hands and feet. Do you think we will still have scars when we get our resurrection body?"

He thought about it for a while and then said yes.

I thought about that conversation for the rest of the night, and I've come to the conclusion that I agree with him. Now before you accuse me of heresy and start picking up stones, hear me out.

Jesus was resurrected with holes in his hands and feet because they bore testimony to the redeeming work that God had done. The evidence of his wounds remained, but they were made glorious by the resurrection. They were now a reason for celebration, causing people to worship their Creator. The were no longer ugly and painful, but they were beautiful.

I hope get to keep my scars too. The one from the time that I burned my hand helping cook dinner for all my new friends in the Fellows program and the one that I got from not paying attention when I was trying to carve a spoon to use on my wilderness trip, sure, but mostly I hope I get to keep the scars nobody else sees. The ones from the pain, fear, and self-consciousness that came with being diagnosed with RA, the ones from having my heart broken by men who told me I wasn't enough, and the ones from the man who told me I was nothing more than a body to be used. If you could see my heart, you'd see some pretty ugly scar tissue built up there.

I know what you're asking, "Why would you want to keep those? Don't you want to be perfect?"

Don't get me wrong, I've looked in the mirror more than a few times and sighed to myself thinking, "Just you wait for that heavenly body... you're going to be a freaking BOMBSHELL!"... but I think that these scars are part of that beauty. A really important part actually.

I've written before about how often God has used hard things to teach me really cool lessons about himself. I can confidently say that the tears I have cried in my life have not been bad things. They've been hard, and I would have happily passed them by, but the have been GOOD. They have been windows into the good work that God has done, is doing, and will continue to do for the rest of forever. And that makes me think of the verse that says "for now you know in part, but then you will know in full." I've seen God make really beautiful things out of the uglies in my life, but there are still things I don't understand. However, I fully believe that, with God, nothing is wasted... and I would LOVE to see and understand all that he's doing with my story.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'll bump into my ex in heaven and get a twinge of hurt over being rejected. I think I'll bump into him, greet him with joy, and then we'll have a nice chat about all the great things that came of both our relationship and it's end. We will worship our God, who know beyond a shadow of doubt what he was doing, both when he put us into each others lives and when he sent us on our separate ways. It will be beautiful, and it will be a reason for crazy, passionate, uncontrollable, undeniable worship. How awesome would it be to get to heaven and have built-in stones of remembrance of God's faithfulness in your weakness and pain. To have something to remind you of how deeply God has loved you through every moment of your life. To understand the undeniably brilliant beauty of something you once thought was unforgivably ugly. Now, if we show up in Heaven with Vogue cover model bodies and tabula rasa memories, I'm sure that will be great too, but somehow I don't think that's how it works.

I hope that someday in heaven, we all get to sit around the throne and exchange scar stories. Not the overly embellished kind that boys tell girls to make themselves seem tough. Not the kind that girls tell at slumber parties sobbing into their pillows and plotting epic revenge. I hope we tell the kind that overwhelms us with awe at the loveliness of the scarred and the wisdom and majesty of the Creator.

I'll start the fire and bring the marshmallows... but you're responsible for the chocolate and grahams... I hate s'mores. Don't tell the Sandlot boys.

She Let Herself Go

I was just cleaning out old email drafts and I stumbled across this post I wrote back in November. It's a little dated as far as my experience goes, but the message is still fitting so I'm going to throw it up here anyway. Enjoy! -Keri

_____________________________________________________________________

I have a confession to make: I'm addicted to country music. Shocker. 

The reason I'm making this confession is that I'm about to do something slightly unorthodox. Usually if I quote something it's a book by a Christian giant or a bible verse... today I'm throwing in some lyrics from a country song. Brace yourself. 

Just over a month ago, I was broken up with for the first time in my life. Let me tell you, that is not a fun experience. I had the distinct pleasure though of being broken up with in such a way that I can still speak of this man with respect and with a smile on my face. That, my friends, is a blessing that should not be overlooked. Our relationship didn't end because of something done wrong or a big fight or a dramatic difference. It ended because, for whatever reason, he didn't have the feelings for me that he thought he should. And to be honest, if that's how he felt, I respect him for ending it now. Doesn't make it easy to accept, but I respect it. 

The problem is, I have watched WAY too many chick flicks. Don't get me wrong, I am all about a girls night with nail polish, Diet Coke, Chinese take out, and Ryan Reynolds. Sign me up. The quandary was, since I'd never be broken up with before, I wasn't really sure how I was supposed to react... but I'd seen them deal with break ups in the movies and I was pretty sure they required lots of Kleenex, Ben and Jerry's chocolate ice cream, and vice-like clutching of tear-stained pillows. I contemplated doing that for about 30 seconds and decided I didn't want to be "that girl." So like any good girl raised on Winne-the-Pooh stories, I put on my thinking cap and thought... and thought... and thought about what I was going to do instead. 

That's where George Strait came in. 

Old George has had my back since 2005 when he released a song called "She Let Herself Go" It was like he knew I would need it. What a great guy. But I digress. As I was thinking about how I wanted to respond to my new-found singledom, this song came to mind. It says:

 He wondered how she'd take it when he said goodbye.
Thought she might do some cryin': lose some sleep at night.
But he had no idea, when he hit the road,
That without him in her life, she'd let herself go.
Let herself go on a singles cruise,
To Vegas once, then to Honolulu.
Let herself go to New York City:
A week at the Spa; came back knocked-out pretty.
When he said he didn't love her no more,
She let herself go.

...

Let herself go on her first blind-date:
Had the time of her life with some friends at the lake.
Let herself go, buy a brand new car,
Drove down to the beach he always said was too far.
Sand sure felt good between her toes:

And as I sang along, as off-key as humanly possible, (and keep in mind that by sang along I really mean I belted it out like a bonafied American-Idol-wannabe, shower-time-superstar, teenage-slumber-party-diva) I realized that's what I wanted to do. Not that I was going to catch the first flight to Vegas, but that I wanted to make the most of this opportunity.

In the past I'd spent times of singleness wishing that I wasn't single, and I'm realizing now that it's quite a waste to do that. Not that I don't want to find a great guy and settle down someday (trust me, I really do), but that obviously isn't right now and that's ok. Right now I have the freedom to schedule Friday night girls nights, to spend every holiday with MY family, to go on double blind dates in the city, and to flirt with the guy making my smoothie a Jamba Juice in hopes of a size upgrade (wait, did I say that?!). It's much harder to do those when you're taken! (That's a joke, feel free to laugh) 

Christ died for us so that we might have life and have it to the full, period. There is no prerequisite that says you must wait until you are in a committed relationship before you start enjoying the life you have been blessed with. I don't want to be sitting here twiddling my thumbs waiting for a handsome prince to come so my life can start! Heck, at that point he'd probably pass me by because I was too boring!! NO! I want to be busy making memories so that when he does come along, I'll have plenty of stories to tell him on our first date... and our second... and if he makes it through the third, I might even let him start to participate in my adventures. We'll see, the jury is still out on that one. ;)

Broken and Beautiful: What suffering teaches us about God

The world we live in can be a scary place. Even in our short lifetimes we’ve seen an overwhelming, and seemingly unfair, amount of pain and suffering. We’ve seen presidents abuse power in the White House, we’ve seen thousands die in terrorist attacks, we’ve sent friends and family off to war, we’ve watched innocent people suffer and die at the hands of somebody who was just looking for a thrill. Closer to home we’ve watched a bullied classmate pass away, we’ve been sexually abused by men who sought to control us with fear, and we’ve seen our parents lose their jobs because somebody in power didn’t like them.  How, in the face of all that, are we supposed to believe God even exists, let alone trust him to care for us in times of need? It’s a big question, one I’ve struggled with myself, and I would love to walk through it with you.

When we were little we were taught “Jesus loves me this I know” and “God is bigger than the boogie man, he’s bigger than Godzilla, or the monsters on TV” and it all seemed so simple. The scary stuff was there, but it was no big deal because we had God, the celestial bodyguard, checking in our closets and under our beds so we didn’t have to worry about it. In the words of my youth pastor, we had our “heaven belts on.” Back then our biggest worry was that we scraped our knee when Timmy pushed us off the slide but God “sent” us a Band-Aid and it was all better.  It wasn’t until we got older that things started getting complicated. Parents got divorced, rumors started, friends crossed to the other side of the hallway and refused to be seen associating with you because to do so would be social suicide. When our worlds started falling apart around us it became a lot harder to believe that “Jesus loves me” regardless that “the bible tells me so.” Suddenly those people that said there was no God, or at least not one that cared about us, started making a lot more sense.

We used to hear sermons on John 10 and Psalm 23 talking about God as a “good shepherd.” One who would lay down his life for his sheep, care for them, make them lie down by still waters and lead them to fields of green grass. He would protect them from danger, provide for their needs, and lovingly seek after them when they strayed away. We could probably give a sermon on that analogy ourselves, from memory, based off the sheer repetition we were exposed to in our youth. So how do we reconcile that story with the world we’re in now? Where is our protection from the wolves attacking our country? Where are the streams of water and fields of grass for those starving in poverty on our city streets? Who is seeking out those who have lost everything in natural disasters to bring them home?

These days there are a lot of things we’re running short on. Time, money, food, living space, even love, you name it there seems to be a deficit.  Nobody would claim a shortage of evil though. At first glance pain, anger, and loss seem to be the currency of the day. It’s not hard to understand why people frequently point at the evil in our world and say, “Surely your good, loving, all-powerful God is nothing but a fairy tale!” I’ve even thought that myself a time or two to be completely honest. The more I’ve thought about the problem of evil though, the more I’ve come to see it as more of a proof for a loving and powerful God rather than against him.

I recently heard a sermon on Acts 16, which tells the story of Paul and Silas in prison. They were preaching the “good news” and came across a slave girl who was possessed by a demon. The demon allowed her to tell the future, which provided a very lucrative business for her masters. Paul, knowing what was best for the girl, cast out the demon and healed her, much to the dismay of her masters who promptly incited a riot to have the men imprisoned. Paul and Silas were brutally beaten and cast into the most secure part of the prison under heavy guard. That’s a lot of evil and unfair treatment to befall two men, for doing a good deed! They were doing the work of the Lord and look what happened to them! Instead of lamenting their position or fighting back, the men prayed and sang hymns. Unbelievable! In the middle of the night though, God sent an earthquake that opened the prison doors and loosed the chains that bound not only Paul and Silas, but all the prisoners. Finally, justice was served! Not only that, but the prison guard, seeing all the doors opened, prepared to kill himself as duty required. Paul and Silas stopped him though, telling him that no one had left the prison. In response, the jailer cared for the men and he, and his entire family, were saved. No one would deny that tremendous evil was at work at the beginning of this story, but God redeemed it into something beautiful in the end.

So often we get caught up staring at the evil all around us and we don’t take the time to stop and think that God might still be working in all of this. God created humans with free will because of his immense love for us and his desire for us to love him back. If we had no option but to love him that would not be real love at all, granting us free will was necessary to allow us to be in relationship with God. With free will, though, comes the ability to choose and therefore, to choose wrongly. Free will opens the door to evil. In order to do away with evil, God would have to revoke our free will, which would be outside of his love for us right now. Instead God overcomes evil by redeeming it, and adapting it to serve his purposes as we see in the Paul and Silas story. We don’t have to fear evil in this world because we know that God is ultimately in control of the outcome, in essence, he really is bigger than the boogieman. Veggie tales was right!

We can also have hope for the future. Just because God hasn’t defeated evil yet does not mean he won’t. The bible makes it very clear, especially in Revelation that God wins. End of story. Satan, and evil, has no authority over the kingdom of God. God has not left us without hope.

Last summer I ended up on a 4-hour car ride with only a 28 year-old ex-felon to keep me company. This man was a former drug addict and had been imprisoned for car theft and physically abusing another human being, and that was the abbreviated version of his criminal record. I could have been terrified and fearing for my safety that whole ride, but instead I was enraptured by his story. Here this man was, telling me the story of his near death in drug overdose, his failed engagement due to alcoholism, his 8 year-old daughter he wasn’t allowed to see, and his year long imprisonment and he was able to rejoice because he was able to look back and see how God used all of it to pick him up off the wayward trail he was taking and push him in the direction he was going now. We were in the car driving up to HoneyRock where he would be participating in an orientation program before attending Wheaton College as a Colson Scholar, sharing testimonies and sitting in awe of God’s amazing power and he said something I’ll never forget. He said, “Keri, if I had gone through all of that just so that I could come to this time of sitting in this car being wowed by God, it would have been worth it.” Evil isn’t the end of the story, God’s glory is.