End of the Semester

The stress and craziness and hecticness of finals is deafening. It’s starting to weigh me down, and it makes you want to crawl back into bed. It makes me want to bury my head in someone’s lap and ignore it all. But the end is almost here. Almost.

I put out my last Table Tent of the year today. It feels good to be done, one less thing I have to do in this crazy week. I have had a blast doing it though. Today I was quite surprised to find two boxes of cookies in my P.O. People actually listened to my plea for “comments, suggestions, or cookies.” I suppose I did beg a little bit. I’ve received a lot of encouraging comments about the Table Tent in the past week, and it really helps. It’s so nice to have a place to ‘show off’ your writing. Which I suppose is what this is.

Sorry it’s not too deep today. It’s the end of the semester, you’re lucky I’m still here.

Seeing God in Those Eyes

I see so much when I gaze into those deep, brown eyes. I see dreams. I see joy. I see happiness. I see hope. I see love. I see a child. And I know she takes that as the compliment it is. My spirit is running wild, and I so much want it to be free. I hold her hand in mine and run. Not to any where in particular, just to run. To feel the air in our lungs, to leap over the puddles, to feel that exhilaration that is life. I feel so free and open. The world is before me, and I’m ready to challenge it. I may only be one small voice, but I will be heard. It’s sprinkling outside, and we’re getting wet. But it doesn’t matter. We stand on the landing, under the lights, holding each other close. Her sweet breath warms my face as our lips touch. This moment could last forever. This morning seems so faraway. Just how can people float through life in such a drunken stupor when it’s so much more? Did you accomplish anything in that distance? Or are you content in letting life be less? I look into those eyes, and I know that life is more. I know I didn’t evolve from the film growing on the top of the puddle I just stepped in. I know God is there, and I know he loves us. He loves us unbelievably. I can look into those eyes and know that he is. Can you feel it? Don’t you see? Open your eyes like a little child. See the love. Hear the joy. Feel the hope. Open your eyes and be free.

“And he said, ‘I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.'” Matthew 18:3-4 NIV

“But Jesus called the children to him and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.'” Luke 18:16-17 NIV

“‘What do you want me to do for you?’ ‘Lord, I want to see.'” Luke 18:41 NIV

The Rain Falls

The rain falls in a steady beat, dripping rhythmically outside, only adding to my sleepiness. The downpour, thunder, and lightning that we’d all like to see never come, it’s just the quiet trickle of rain that hardly warrants a jacket. It’s not even enough to be annoying. Standing there for a moment, time seems to be suspended. If only it were. I could stay there forever, so dreamlike and serene. I step to move away, and like waking up from a dream, I almost trip down the stairs. What a dream, Lord. Just keep me in touch with reality. Is it wrong to slip into my own little heaven?

Shel Silverstein Dies and Writing

The thunder echoes outside, and my thoughts overflow with ideas. Where to begin, where to begin?

Shel Silverstein died today at the age of 66 from a heart attack. You probably remember some of his books of poetry, A Light in the Attic, or Where the Sidewalk Ends, with the silly illustrations. I remember them from second grade, and reading about the man with two heads, complaining that when ‘I want tea, he has to pee.’ The best children’s writers seem to be a little out there.

Speaking of writing, what do you think of the piece I wrote for the Table Tent in yesterday’s pondering? I had a lot of fun writing that. This weekend I read another small chunk of L’Engle’s Walking on Water (nope, I’m not done yet), and what stood out to me was how we are losing the ability to equate work with play. When kids play, they play hard. They play intently. They’re actually doing work. How come we can’t work like that? Well, while writing that piece, I worked. And I had a blast. L’Engle also talked about how writing is tough and you really have to work at it sometimes. She said that so many books out there are just rough drafts. Well, I usually settle for rough drafts, but I raked this thing over with a fine tooth comb and tweaked everything to make it sound right. It’s certainly not perfect, but it’s a lot better than the way it was. It just makes you feel good to refine something like that.

So who are you? What do other people see you as? Mary Ellen Ashcroft spoke in chapel today, and part of what she talked about was how we categorize people. He’s a jock, she’s a prep, he’s a nerd, she’s a punk, he’s conservative, she’s just out there, he’s a Calvinist, she’s a feminist, etc. How unloving is that? Do we like to be put in a neat little box like that. I certainly don’t. So why do we do it to others? And I’m certainly guilty of this too. We shouldn’t dismiss people and categorize them based on one aspect of their life. People are unique, and we should take the time to get to know them better, rather that just stick them in some category. I’ve noticed that the people I know the best I can’t categorize. They don’t fit in any category. I have a silly notion that’s true with everybody.

What a Weekend

What a weekend. You know it’s been a good weekend when your stomach hurts from laughing so much. My body is aching right now, not proof that I ran around too much this weekend, but proof that I don’t run around enough. Aside from the ticks, the cold, and having to actually go to nature when nature calls, I really liked roughing it this weekend. This morning it felt so good to splash cold creek water on my face. I could almost imagine kneeling down there and shaving–really roughing it. Of course we weren’t there long enough to worry about that. There’s so much I could say about this weekend. But my mind isn’t working too quickly right now. And my body is just screaming to lay down and die. So I guess I’ll save it for later.

The Weekend at Lena Creek

For you Bethel people, here’s a sneak peak at tomorrow’s Table Tent article. For you non-Bethel people, here’s a sample of some Table Tent material:

So how was your weekend? Did you do any of that homework? Study for finals? Attack those end of the semester projects? I spent my weekend playing Trivial Pursuit in a field of dandelions, boiling creek water to wash the dishes, and waking up to a tick crawling up my leg. Six friends and I escaped to an unoccupied farm in Wisconsin. What does unoccupied mean? They tried turning on the water and it broke. Creek water for us. We decided to ignore the responsibility of homework, projects, and tests one last time before the true joy of finals set in. We ran barefoot in the green grass, tossed a Frisbee (some better than others), witnessed the dreaded Aerobe-eating trees at work, tromped through the marsh, and played a quick game of full contact croquet. Some of us scaled the heights of a tree, while others stuck wild flowers in their creek-washed braids. We laid on blankets soaking in the constellations and the dew, debating the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. What did I learn this weekend? I learned that the double-O in “007” means that James Bond has a license to kill. I learned that old gas stations make really keen coffee houses. I learned that the answer is 42. And I learned that sometimes homework can wait. Maybe Henry David Thoreau wasn’t crazy. Cold creek water washed the sleep from my eyes Sunday morning, and I couldn’t help but shout, “Good morning!” Sometimes life flashes by in a mix of faces, assignments, and TV shows and we forget to have fun. We miss the beauty for fear of soggy sneakers, grass stains, or-God forbid-looking stupid. We fly so fast we think the call to live life to the fullest is cheesy, and we move on-only moving, but never living. Life is more. Be slightly crazy and ‘suck the marrow from life,’ stand atop your desk, flail your arms and scream as you sail down a hill. You have a standing invitation to the birthplace of apathy, but no one will care if you don’t make the social appearance.

The Heritage Hall Time Capsule

“What do you call yourself? / What did you call me?

“Excuse me but you don’t know me / And I sure don’t know you neither

“Who are you and where did you go? / You think you know but you, just don’t know” (“The Downfall of Western Civilization” by MxPx).

Today in chapel the administration shared with the student body the plans for the cornerstone of the new dorm that’s being built right now. They’re planning on sealing it up as a time capsule (I thought that was just a popular 80’s thing), and they took the time to show us what was being put in the time capsule. The “cornerstone committee” made the decisions, and I have to say they did a fairly decent job. Sealed in the new dorm’s cornerstone (which they admitted only serves a symbolic purpose, which makes me wonder what the point is) will be a Bible, a Bethel viewbook, a 1998-1999 Roster (with all those really bad ID pictures), a Beanie Baby (they figure when the capsule is opened they can sell it and pay for the next building project), a Caribou Coffee brochure, a scrap book, and an Abercrombie & Fitch tag. Now I understand that the committee is just taking an honest representation of the Bethel student body. You can’t blame them for being honest. But I think that’s just sad. Abercrombie & Fitch symbolizes Bethel students so well that it’s being included in a time capsule. How pathetic are we? How wrapped up in fashion and big names are we? I guess I can rejoice that I don’t own any Abercrombie & Fitch stuff myself. But we all have our classy name brands.

I’m taking off for the weekend to a farm in Wisconsin, so unfortunately there won’t be a pondering tomorrow night. But never fear, I should be back on Sunday.

“So now I just hope that the world is treating you fine / And I hope your memories are sweet as mine / Goodbye’s are hard” (“In My Dreams” by Ace Troubleshooter)

The Church Crumbles and Falls

The church crumbles and falls. You stand there aghast. What do you do? Some walk away, leaving the crumbs to rot. Will you turn your back? Will you walk away? Where are the ones willing to roll up their sleeves? Who will muddy their hands and mend the hurt and pain? Or will we watch the crowd disperse and when no one’s looking slap some putty in the cracks and call it good? This can’t go on. I’m just a kid, what can I do? Sometimes I wonder who really knows what they’re doing. You wonder why the world looks on and laughs, well look around you. You won’t even mend the cracks. Where’s the unity? Where’s the body? We can’t move on without a foot, without an eye, without an ear. A heart is not enough. A mind is not enough. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. The parking lot of the church is paved with apathy. The pain is deep and it’s not easy, but you can’t just throw your hands up in the air and leave us here to make it on our own. We need you. Stick your definitions in the trash and wipe that self assured look off your heart. You are not right. God is right. The narrow minded will be blown away when all is revealed. How dense can you be? How foolish are we? Jesus, light of the world, shine your love upon this broken vessel.

Inviting Marilyn Manson Over for Dinner

Today at the beginning of chapel the campus pastors took a moment to share about some new prayer thing that was happening, and they shared a quick story about praying against the Marilyn Manson concert that was in town this week. Sherry made a slip of the tongue and said something about, “When Marilyn Manson comes to Bethel.” Everyone laughed and thought it was funny, and Sherry’s face turned red and she laughed for a minute before continuing.

But I wasn’t laughing. I obviously didn’t listen to much they were saying about the prayer meetings. I was thinking about Marilyn Manson. He’s taken a lot of flack lately. A lot of people have been picketing his shows because of whatever connection there may be between the “goth” followers of his music and the Columbine shootings. As rumor has it, at the Minneapolis show somebody put a big yellow smiley face somewhere on the stage, and when Manson saw it, he stopped the concert mid-song, and stormed off the stage. Sherry related this story as a victory story for the group that was praying for the presence of God to be in that concert hall.

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Water Balloon Attack

Okay, so there, I was, just coming back from a late night Perkins run, standing there for half a second saying goodbye to my girlfriend, and wham! A water balloon slams into my feet. Nobody’s around. Nobody’s screaming and laughing. Nothing. Just a random water balloon that rocketed out of nowhere and soaked my shoes. So we stand there for a minute, trying to figure out what’s going on. The moment we turn our backs–wham! Another one! Needless to say, when I returned to my townhouse, I ran.

“I climbed the door and shut the stairs / I said my shoes and took off my prayers / I brushed my clothes and took off my teeth / I pulled down my alarm and set my sheets / I shut off my bed and I climbed into my light / And all because she kissed me goodnight.” (Kiss Goodnight by Ace Troubleshooter)

(you all have Ben to thank for that. I wasn’t going to include it here, but he just pushed me too far. ;) )