redefining beau-ti-ful

I love books. Reading is my escape from the world to enjoy just a few minutes of solitude for myself. Granted, those minutes usually slip away into hours, but you know what I mean. I love the thought behind "get lost in a good book". I wish I could do that everyday, however, school life & homework do take precidence to pleasure reading.

Lucky for me, this is finals week, which means I have already done all the studying possible, soo . . . I can "get lost in a good book"! The list of books I want to read is endless & I do hope to get to them all, however, this reading escapade started with "Redefining Beau-ti-ful" by Jenna Lucado.

Though I am older than the targeted age-group, I have learned much from Jenna's thoughts. From personal appearance to my relationship status with Christ, the ideas found in her devotional were spiritually uplifting. I found myself encouraged on every page & sought to turn pages faster to see what else the Lord would have for me to learn. What did I learn most? That I am beautiful in the sight of God & that is all that matters. I don't have to be popular or physically gorgeous. My character & my ministry to the Lord is what truly defines my beauty.

alma mata

Each time I return home from college I find myself walking down the haunted hallways of my Alma Mata. The school may not seem haunted because the halls & classrooms are filled with the laughing, chattering, and locker-slamming of about 200 students. But the halls are different. Seventh graders are now sophomores & the high school hallway now houses nearly the entire student body: first through twelfth. 200 used to be the number that described seventh through twelfth grade, now it embodies the entire enrollment.


Some things haven't changed, though. The noise of life is still there. And the teachers. The teachers are much the same. Many of the teachers I had in elementary and high school are still there, teaching another generation to "grow up in the nurture & admonition of the Lord." The teachers themselves are little hauntings. Though they are the same, they have changed. Some were my parents' teachers. Some are still teaching students what they taught my parents, my siblings, myself, & my peers. Others have taken on new roles: a history teacher has added seventh grade English to his roster, the computer teacher also runs the lunchroom, & the drama teacher also heads the maintenance. Even with changes, the school reminds me of the old days & gives me the comfort of being home.


As I immerse myself into the hallways, observing the teachers as a college student and future teacher, I find my mind returning to the recent past. I see the hallway, though filled with living, breathing bodies, haunted by old memories of my elementary, junior high, & high school days. Instead of being a junior in college studying to b an English & drama teacher, I am transformed back into a student of Tri-City Christian School. I remember conversations my friends & I had in those hallways, the lessons we heard & ignored, & the activities we were involved in after school.


My friends. It's funny how three years can make old friends seem like strangers. Since our graduation, we have all taken different paths. 18 different paths. One is serving our country in the Marines & the others split between starting vocations & going to college. Our relationship status' span from single to married to starting a family. It's weird, growing up & moving on. While I have never been one to regret, I look back on fond memories. Some outcomes bring smiles, others pain, & a few bring both.


My Alma Mata does not just haunt me of the past, but encourages me. As I sit in the classes & hear lessons, the passion to teach rises within me. The three semesters that stand between me & student teaching seem to be an eternity. Oh, how I want to teach now! And not just anywhere--I want to be like my mom & Mrs. Scroggins--I want to return to my Alma Mata to teach. Why? because I love the school, purple runs through my veins, & because I want to continue the legacy stated in our Alma Mata:

Righteousness & character
Virtues for our guide
From the halls of dear Tri-City
Ever shall abide

it was for me

A cross is a rather simple structure. Two rough pieces of wood, one nailed perpendicularly on top of the other. There is no refinement or glory, though many modern Christians proudly wear a silver or gold cross, beautifully embellished, around their necks. No, the cross on which my Savior bled & died was no thing of beauty. It was rough, crude, & extremely painful. There isn't a torture practiced today that is more horrendous than that of the Roman crucifiction.

Isaiah 53:4-5 says, "Surely He has borne our griefs, & carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem Him stricken, smitten of God, & afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; & with His stripes we are healed." Do you realize what that means? Christ died for me. He was beaten by men & repulsed by His Father in order to pay the enormous price for my sins. The awesomeness of His great sacrifice should never stop amazing me, yet, day-by-day I find myself complacent & often repeating the same sins over & over. The sin He died for. His pain: it was for me.

In dorm devotions tonight, Holly, my dorm supervisor, challegened us with the reality of the cross. We each were asked to bring a 3x5 card & a pen to devotions. Before starting her challenge, she handed out small finishing nails. One for each person. On that small piece of paper we were to write out one sin that we struggle with daily. As I wrote just one of the many sins I so often repeat, Holly explained that when Christ died on Calvary, He died for my sin. His pain & suffering nailed my sin to the cross. It was for me. The notecard was folded in half & each girl took her notecard & nail to a small, simple cross Holly had at the front of the room. Our sins were nailed to the cross. There was complete silence in a room filled with 60+ girls who are rather known for giggling, jokes, & laughter. The image was real. Christ died for me. It was my sin that nailed Him there.

Christ's body hung on the cross by just 3 nails, yet our cross was covered with 60+ notecards held by 60+ nails. Christ has already paid the price for them all.

It was for me.

be a missionary

Have you ever had one of those days where God reveals something so amazing & you know it was just for you? Have you ever had it happen twice in one day? What if the same lesson was reinforced a third time? Would it grab your attention & change your life?

Today was the opening of Calvary's missions conference. I have always loved missions conference. At home, the foyer of the church is teaming with people going down the hallways that surround two sides of the auditorium. Faces young, old, & everywhere in between are looking at presentation boards, picking up prayer cards, & talking with the various missionary families. In our opening service, the congregation sings "We've a Story to Tell to the Nations" as high school boys bring in the flags of the countries represented by the missionaries attending the conference that week. When we finish the hymn, each missionary & their country is presented to the audience. It's wonderful. As I see the parade of nations, I am moved. I don't think I am called into missions, but as each flag sweeps the air as the young man turns to face the congregation, I wish, for just a moment, that I could minister with the missionary family. See life as they see it.

Like I said, today was the opening service for Calvary's missions conference. In Sunday School, the Lord first grabbed my attention as Caleb Stein spoke from the book of Jonah. He captivated me for the rest of the hour with two statements he made in his introduction: Everything in the book of Jonah glorified God except Jonah & Jonah only wanted to love those he thought were deserving. It's a shame, but Jonah is an accurate representation of me & how I view others, specifically the Lost. Missionary Stein encouraged us to see others as God sees them: to share His mercy with others. Jonah did not love the people of Nineveh as God loved them; he did not see that God's love is greater than any sin & His grace is far greater than we can ever imagine. Sunday School rocked my boat.

Pastor Loggans' service following Sunday School went hand-in-hand with the lesson on Jonah. He spoke form Matthew 9. Again, it was Pastor Loggans' introduction that focused me in on the rest of the service: "One of the most overwhelmin thoughts known to man: God uses us!" He presented a dire situation: a multitude of unbelievers, a deliverant supplication: "The work of God moves forward on its knees", & a declared solution: "Here am I, Lord, send me."

As I studied for tests & wasted all too much time on facebook this afternoon, I could not get off of my mind the lesson that the Lord was teaching me: Do I see others as Chrsit does? Am I praying & willing to serve wherever He leads?

Not surprisingly, Mr. Trainer's message this evening both reinforced & expanded the messages from this morning. His challenge? What does it take to motivate me to take advantage of divine appointments? I should be looking at people through Christs eyes, because the way I see them determines how I will respond to them. His challenge came from Luke 4. The context: Christ reads from Isaiah in the synagoge & proclaims Himself as the much anticipated Messiah. Luke 4:17 lists 5 ways that Christs views the lost: poor (spiritually bankrupt), broken-hearted (emotionally destitute), captives (morally bound to sin), blind (intellectually near-sighted), & bruised (mortally demolished/hopeless).

Am I seeing others as Christ does? Does my heart break knowing what they are missing & do I rejoice to share my Christ with others?

The timing of today was no coincidence. God truly was working & "remaining anonymous." Just 2 weeks ago, Mr. Trainer presented the various missions trip opportunities we as students had for Spring Break & this summer. It was a hard decision. Two teams interested me. One to Uganda and another Ireland. As I weighed the pros & cons, the "still small voice" became louder & more clear. I knew which missions trip I was to apply for. After much prayer & counsel, it became apparent to me to apply to be part of the medical missions team to Uganda in March, despite my lack of medical skills. As of yet, I don't know if I have been accepted as part of the team, but I know, with all my heart, that just by applying I have followed the Lord's will. It's in His hands now.

Uganda won't be the beginning of my missions trip, though. It has to begin now. I have heard the Lord &, whether I accept or reject His calling, I will be changed. I'm chosing to look at others as Christ does. To have compassion on the poor, broken-hearted, blind, & bruised captives.

How will you respond?

my car

The Lord constantly amazes me. Just when I think life is out of control, just when I begin to despair because of finances, He shows me that His power is infinite. He reminds me that I am & have nothing without Him.

This summer, as I put away money for this semester's college bill, I began saving money for a car. The amount of money I had accumulated by August did not amount to much. In fact, I don't think I could by one tire with the money I had, nevertheless, it was a pitiful start to a need.

At the end of the summer my computer, which was a gracious gift from my aunt & uncle after my computer died my freshman year, began to have problems that interferred with performing simple tasks. The biggest frustration was that it would no longer hold a charge, nor could I charge it with my cable. I was frustrated, but determined to make it last me at least this semester.

God amazes me. I texted Mom about buying a computer at the exact moment that my parents were looking at computers in the Watertown WalMart. While I was considering using up my last summer paycheck to buy what I needed, my parents were talking about my need. Dad agreed to help me with my computer. He called it my car. Why? The price I would pay Dad would exhaust my car saving. It was worth it. Though I wanted that money to go toward a car, God knew what I truly needed: a computer.

No, my car does not get great gas milage, nor can I use it to take a weekend vacation home. Though some my age may think that a car would have been more beneficial as I college student, I know that the Lord specifically wanted me to have my "car": a 17.3" Toshiba. And with it I have been able to travel the world.

secret place

Let's be honest, life is hectic & filled with an incredible amount of noise. Sometimes, even in a crowded, noise-filled room, I feel the need to be alone & experience some peace & quiet. In the past couple of months, the Lord keeps reminding me that I have a secret place only found in Him. A place where I can escape the noise & hectic activities of life & be filled with His peace.

I can't say when the Lord first began to show me that He is my secret place, but I can trace the lesson to two things: The Secret Place by Ron Hamilton & The Diary of Anne Frank by Goodrich & Hackett.

The Diary of Anne Frank immersed me in the world of European Jews during World War II. I first read the play at the encouragement of a friend, & immediately fell in love with the story. In fact, I spent hours with Anne, Peter, & Mr. Frank as I memorized a selection for the college commencement competition. The Lord taught me, through the struggle of the Frank family, that He is my secret place, the place where I can hide from the terrors, trials, & wars of the world. Surrounded by bias & hatred, Anne chose to be optimistic & learned to love her secret place.

The other instrument the Lord used to turn me to His secret place was a song I learned in church choir at Windsor: The Secret Place by Ron Hamilton & Cheryl Reid. The words are so powerful. Each time I sing the song or hear it sung, I cannot help but feel that I am surrounded by the Lord. The song reminds me that no matter how loud & hectic life gets, now matter how weak I feel, no matter what trial I am facing, in Him I can find hope. I close my eyes & find that I am in my secret place.

I've found a secret place

Of comfort & release,

A special place of healing,

A quiet place of peace.

And everyone who dwells there

Finds rest beneath God's wings.

In the shade of His pavilion

New strength He always brings.

- - -

I find hope, I find grace

Far away from the world's embrace.

He gives me rest; He keeps me safe,

I find His strength, I seek His face

In the secret place.

- - -

With every trial He brings,

My Lord will make a way--

To strengthen & protect me,

To help me face each day.

He leads me through the valley

To draw me closer still,

Knowing even in the shadows

I find his perfect will.

masquerade

Have you ever watched Phantom of the Opera? The mask that the phantom wears is truly unique: it only covers the afflicted quarter of his face. I remember the first time that I watched the movie, thinking that maybe the mask hid nothing at all. But then, Christine removes it . . . & the face hidden beneath can only be described as horribly disgusting. No one really believes Christine because they have never seen the phantom unmasked for themselves. In fact, as the entire opera house celebrates the opening of a new performance no one seems to notice the phantom walking among them. Why? It's a masquerade, everyone is hiding their faces from the others.

Once a month my church has special group meetings on a Sunday evening. These meetings allow male leaders to encourage the men & women leaders to encourage the ladies. We ladies have been discussing Titus 2:3-5 "The aged women likewise . . . that they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed." On July 5, Mrs. O spoke on being chaste, or pure, in all areas of life.

What does pure living have to do with a masquerade? Well, Mrs. O pointed out that being chaste is not just living physically pure, but being pure in every area of life. Before Mrs. O began speaking, each lady received a paper mask with different areas of ministry (Sunday School, K4T, music, prayer warrior) written on the front. She explained that we often "decorate" our life with outward actions like we decorate the outside of a beautiful mask. I walk around in a masquerade, hiding my true purity (or lack thereof) underneath masks of ministry. Mrs. O challenged us not to be satisfied with just looking pure, but living a completely pure life from the inside out. She had us turn over the mask & write down areas that weren't so pure in our lives . . . areas that only family, close friends, & God know. As I wrote on the back of my mask, I realized that, all too often, I'm living in a masquerade.

I could write for some time about the things that I learned in that short challenge, but I think the most important one is to take off the mask & end the masquerade. There are areas of my life that may seem ugly, like the Phantom's deformity, but with the Lord's help my life can become wholly pure.