We just finished an amazing 7-week course called "Tell the Story"
We discussed God's story, stories in the Bible, and we shared our own stories about experiences or moments when "our story" and "God's story" were breathtakingly intertwined. (Personal experiences of God at work in our lives)

In our last session, we watched "cardboard testimonies" and then made and shared our own.
(While "I love to tell the story" played in the background).

A much-needed letter of affirmation

I had an epiphany today. I got really frustrated/morally disturbed at school and actually voiced my concerns rather than waiting for someone else to. (Which didn’t go over well, much to my chagrin.)

And I thought to myself, I didn’t used to be this way. I haven’t always felt compelled to speak up when I thought something harmful was happening, especially if it meant acting alone. Even with widespread social injustices I would get upset but I would also feel like that’s just the way of the world, so why bother trying to do anything. 

But I think the kingdom of God sermon series changed my perspective. I used to believe my actions didn’t really matter—that whether I acted helpfully or harmfully, the earth was just doomed...and salvation (at some future date) would either take us elsewhere or something. I don’t even know. But my attitude was defeatist at best, regardless of what I thought of the end of days. 

Anyhow, now my working perspective is that salvation has occurred so that the work of creating the kingdom could begin and continue here and now, which means my actions do matter, which means if I see something unjust (including and especially my own behavior), I’m going to feel compelled to call it out or question it or try to change it, which means being engaged with the world, which means being more delighted and more heartbroken, which means feeling more alive.

Huh, just had another thought—is this what it means to be alive in Christ? 

*shrugs*

I realize as I’m writing this that it feels like a journal entry that’s helping me process my emotional state today, so thank you for reading it. 

And I wanted to share how important that series was for me, even though I’m only realizing it now.

Enemies and Ice Chips

I had my day all scheduled out, but an overly-long funeral put me significantly behind.
And then, when I arrived at the ICU to visit my ONE parishioner in the hospital, the nurse told me that I had to wait at least 30 minutes for shift change. I had a friend in town and was supposed to meet up with them, so I was NOT happy.

To make matters worse, this particular patient was someone that I had struggled to love.
My very first week at the church, she had barged into my office with angry opinions and we had been locked in power struggles ever since. She got the better of my temper on a few occasions and, once or twice, I had called her my nemesis. So, of course, I begrudged the inconvenience of that extra time (even blamed her for it, slightly: "of course she would mess up this day for me"--an irrational reaction, but my thought nonetheless).

So I left to get coffee with my friend and stubbornly returned to the hospital ('stubborn' is the right word because my reaction was more like "she is NOT going to win this one. I WILL visit and I'll kill her with kindness because I'm the better person.")    ...

This woman who had been in (my perception) so formidable and bitter and antagonistic... was curled up in a hospital bed and weakly crying out for ice.
And I saw her.
I'm not sure if she knew who I was, but as I sat there singing hymns, I found myself deeply drawn to compassion and love for this child of God.

It was grace for me to sing.
It was grace for me to hold that tiny sponge swab and gently fish one ice chip at a time out of the Styrofoam cup and place it on to her lips. It felt almost sacramental to be sharing such a small and intimate thing with her.

As I sang, I was overcome by the raw knowledge of God's overwhelming love towards this woman. Despite my previous frustration and anger, I saw Christ in her and with her.
It was a moment of tender mercy.

 And my heart was strangely warmed.
(enough to melt some of the ice)