Surprised by Joy

I sat in my room, reading Psalms while sipping blueberry pomegranate tea and crunching on granola, listening to Rachmaninoff after having talked and laughed with some of my friends in the lobby just down the hall: a perfect end to any day. I was happy, joyful, excited for Missions Conference tomorrow, thankful to be in Torrey, and intrigued by the recent Torrey mystery.

Then I stumbled across a verse that described exactly how I felt.

"...in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy."
~Psalm 63:7, ESV

Those words describe what I feel. Even though I'm still unsure what I will be doing this summer, how I will pay for the next year at Biola, or if I'll get the jobs I hope to, I will sing for joy, if only because I live in the shadow of His wings.

Church in the Wildwood

There's a church in the valley by the wildwood

No lovelier place in the dale

No place is so dear to my childhood

As the little brown church in the dale.

How sweet, on a clear Sabbath morning

To listen to the clear ringing bells

Its tones, so sweetly, are calling

Oh, come to the church in the vale.

Oh, come, come, come, come

Come to the church in the wildwood

Oh, come to the church in the dale

No spot is so dear to my childhood

As the little brown church in the vale.

I really, really miss my church. Old hymns, potlucks, people who have known me since I was four years old, babies and expectant mothers, my pastor, the sound of the creek as we sing the opening hymns, the kids that I miss watching as they grow up, the old-fashioned love for Jesus without any "new-and-improved" methods.

I Just Need to Process What's Going On

I am mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. The weekend is almost here, but I have two books to read and take notes on, a paper to write, a test to study for, a 7-10 page paper to start, pull questions to do...the list goes on. I am praying for discipline to get everything done and ignore the existence of my social life for awhile. But in the midst of that daunting to-do list, I need to process what is going on. And I need to count my blessings.

• I love my professors. I was skimming Amazon.com last night (instead of doing homework) and I found a book by John Mark Reynolds. It is so awesome to smile to myself and think, "He's one of my professors."


• I particularly loved Torrey session last night. There was a lot of laughter, from the students and from the professor, and a lot of diagramming on the board, which I love to do.


• I love Professor Schubert. When she is our tutor, I feel like she is part of the class, learning and discovering with us, rather than leading the discussion. And she has wonderful stories.


• Augustine blows my mind.


• The love within my Torrey group is amazing. I pray it continues to grow.


• I'm really excited for Freshman Initiatives.

I am so thankful for God's love and the old hymns that express that love. Two years ago, I stood the gym at BCHS singing the last verse of "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing," realizing for the first time in weeks that God loves and cares for me.

"O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be!

Let thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love;

here's my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above."

My Heart

Is beating.

Is longing.

Is pleading.

Is calling out.

Is crying deep inside.

Is dancing with joy.

Is wishing to be free.

Is being held.

Is sealed.

Is not my own.

Is given away.

Is safe.

Is dying.

Is in my King's hands.

This is a poem I wrote (please grant me grace, I know I'm no poet) at the end of my senior year of high school when I was going through some minor problems with my physical heart, and dealing with the realization that my closest friends from high school would be leaving (as I would) in a few short months for college. Nine months later, it still manages to capture what I'm feeling.

Amazing Friends, Good Books, February, and God's Faithfulness

Last night, I wrote a blog post that sort of ended in a hopeless way. I mentioned something about clinging to God's love, but I didn't expound on it, partially because I had already spent an hour and a half writing that post, and partially because I was concurrently discussing our Reynolds session with Rachel and not paying complete attention to how I ended that post.

But since last night I have been overwhelmed with hope. I have wonderful friends, and I am so blessed to be around people who genuinely care about me. They talk with me, give me hugs, make lunch and dinner dates with me, let me chill in their rooms, send me notes and messages reminding me of their love, and call me to check up on me. I cannot imagine being educated in a setting without this kind of love and support.

But good friends can't get me through everything, mostly because they are not that wise. I am learning with them, and not sitting in their tutelage (though I learn a lot from them). That's why I have mentors. I have people like Professor Klapauszak who help me think and can see what major I would thrive in. But even from my mentors I can't learn everything. So, God has given me books where I can learn from great minds who no longer walk this earth. I can sit in my room and learn from Sheldon Vanauken, C.S. Lewis, Plato, Augustine, and even Jesus. He is faithful to provide the wisdom I need.

God's faithfulness is also evident in the month of February. It seems I always face particularly interesting and faith-testing moments in February. One year ago I was accepted to Biola, and I had no idea if this was where God wanted me to go to school, and I was minorly freaked out about it. It was at this time that I was also introduced to the idea of Torrey and decided to apply, a decision that changed my life forever. Two years ago (February 2009), I went through an intense time of doubt about my faith. Being raised in a Christian home, this was the first time I consciously wrestled with my faith. The song "Come Thou Fount" brought me back to God as I saw that I was truly "prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love." He lovingly took my heart and sealed it, sealing it for His courts above.

Three Februaries ago, I was in the midst of fighting with my father, which turned into nine months of his refusal to speak to me, despite continual efforts of my part to ask for and earn his forgiveness. This issue is still one I am dealing with, and still one where (as I experienced last night) God's grace is present.

Four Februaries ago I was baptized. This was a difficult decision for me because I was afraid of proclaiming my faith in such a way. I made the decision and have never regretted it.

There is hope. I am reminded that if nothing in my life ever went wrong, I wouldn't experience God's grace. I wouldn't be encouraged by my friends or find joy through rough circumstances.

"Your worst days are never so bad that you are beyond the reach of God's grace. And your best days are never so good that you are beyond the need of God's grace." ~Anonynous

A Bruised Heart in Blog Post Form

Torrey students: Quadratus had their first Reynolds session today. I told my group right before it that I wasn't ready. There were too many things reeling in my head, too many triumphs and tears throughout the day to end it with a Reynolds session, especially on Plato's Symposium. But that is exactly what happened. The result? I checked off number 96 on the "101 Things To Do in Torrey Before You Graduate" list: Cry in session.

Non-Torrey students: Imagine being hurt, then putting on a happy face and trying to tell yourself and everyone else that it will be okay, and then having a knife thrust into your heart. In a very academically, mind-boggling way. Then add in a lot of awkwardness. That was my night.

We talked about a lot of things this session. One of my favorite topics of conversation (which I wish I was better versed in) is the down-fall of American culture and Western civilization, which is also one of Dr. Reynolds' favorite topics of conversation. Which means we spent a lot of time talking about what love is according to our culture and comparing it with love according to Plato.

We talked about beauty and wisdom, and how rare it is to find a person who genuinely has both. It struck me how true that is. Beauty takes a lot of time and a lot of effort. So does the pursuit of wisdom. People cannot feasibly be drop-dead gorgeous and have time to become genuinely wise. Those who pretend to do are not doing at least one of those things to the fullest capacity. Instead, those who are good-looking have to spend their time keeping up appearances, not learning. They can bluff their way through school and life if they want, but the mark of a truly strong person is one who can get through life by bluffing (or with charm) but chooses to use intellect instead. Those who prefer the charm route can do so, but they will have to hire someone to do the brain work behind it. Classic example (and I am honestly not trying to pick on Obama with this example): Who was elected president? Obama. Who writes Obama's speeches and who does the hard work of running the country? Speech-writers and the president's cabinet. This leads to the question: What happens in a culture where the good-looking people's lines are written by the bad-looking (but smart) people? The smart people run the country but the good-looking people think they do.

Now, at this point you are probably wondering one or more of the following (unless you were actually in this session)...

1. Aren't you being a little self-righteous? After all, just because someone is born good-looking, that doesn't mean they are doomed to be stupid, right?

2. Isn't it possible to get good grades and spend time on your looks? After all, school doesn't take that much time!

My response to number 1: Born good-looking gives you a ridiculous advantage in this culture. Most are tempted to use this advantage - after all, who wouldn't? The word that came to mind during session was "integrity." Doing the work, even though you could get away with not doing it.

My response to number 2: Wisdom is not the same thing as schooling. True wisdom is not spitting out answers on tests. True wisdom is reading and thinking. This type of wisdom takes time. It takes a lifetime. As I looked around Dr. Reynolds' office, the majority of wall space was covered in bookshelves filled with books, all of which contain wisdom. That much reading, or even a fraction of it takes time, effort, and a love for it.

We also discussed (and by "we," I mean everyone else, because I spent most of the class period just trying to process what was being said) that right before a culture is destroyed, historically, it does not appreciate its blessings. Instead, it takes the blessings it is given and wants more. (We cited Plato for this, but I honestly don't think you care what the citation is, and I don't remember it anyway.) If this is true, our culture is approaching destruction very soon because everything is taken for granted: education, family, food, friends, books, transportation. In any time before this, none of these things were taken for granted, especially not education. Dr. Reynolds told us about his grandfather who only received an 8th grade education. And there we sat with not only a high school education but also enrolled in college, and not just any college, but a part of the Torrey Honors Institute, reading the greatest works of Western civilization. Dr. Reynolds told us that his grandfather would look at us and ask, "How can you possibly be unhappy?" Yet, each and every day we complain about how we want more. We don't appreciate our blessings, and that will lead to our downfall.

We talked about another interesting topic that explained Torrey and education to me in a way that helps me understand when we don't come to an answer in session. Education is about going in circles. We can either go "further in and further up" as Lewis says, or we can go somewhere. I have always valued the destination more than the process. Now, I am learning to value the process and the learning more than the destination and answer.

Throughout all this, we talked about love, the theme of Symposium. We talked about what it truly means to love. We talked about sacrificing for the one you love. We talked about how love implies loving something. Love implies a beloved. All the dialogues talk about "love" the thing, but not the real love, which implies a beloved and an action. It is not something idependent of itself.

Amidst all of this, we did some thinking about our own love relationships, most notably with our parents. We also talked about marriage relationships. These are both great learning instances, but it hit quite close to home. Before coming to session, I talked to my mom on the phone. My dad is not talking to my mom or my brother, after going for a week in January without talking to me. Throughout session, my eyes would tear up when this topic came up, but I made it through. Near the end, however, Mrs. Reynolds came in, and Dr. Reynolds asked her to give the last word in the discussion. We had talked about how in romantic movies, the credits roll at the happiest time of the movie. In real life, the credits roll in a hospital, with at least one person in intense pain. She described what I deem as the truest love: Philip Johnson, one of the leaders in thought of the idea of Torrey, is in the hospital, and his wife is by his side, helping him and loving him. That was when I lost it. My family is in much of the same situation. My mom is not in a hospital, but she is disabled, hurting, and confined to a bed most of the day. My dad is not there with her. He avoids her and her children, tells her she would just get better if only she would try, makes his son walk seven miles home from school because he doesn't feel like driving to pick him up, and refuses to talk to his daughter even though she begs him that she will do anything if he will just love her. Love can hurt. A lot. Which is why it's so dangerous.

After this session, I did not know what to do. How do you respond to three hours of discovering that you feel your family doesn't truly love one another, to such a degree that it hurts being home? I ended up talking to my friends. They told me to keep clinging to the promise that God loves you. To keep loving yourself. To rely on the Body of Christ because that's what community is for.

A Day of Firsts

Today has been a wonderfully surprising and surprisingly wonderful day. I went to a reformed-doctrine church for the first time and watched the Super Bowl (well, some of it) for the first time. I also attended my first Super-Bowl-party-turned-hymn-sing.


I was planning on going to church this weekend with Maddie, like we did near the end of last semester, but she went back to Bakersfield for the weekend, so I asked Elizabeth if I could go with her. So, I ended up at a reformed-doctrine church with Elizabeth and two other friends. Afterwards, we planned to go to Elizabeth's house for the Super Bowl. Because I'm not a huge football fan, I wasn't entirely thrilled about an afternoon of football, but I decided to tag along because free (non-cafeteria) food was involved, as was getting off campus and hanging out with friends. However, everyone who wanted to go along were Torrey kids, which meant all of them had homework to be doing. So, we talked ourselves into believing that this would be a study party, too.


Some of us (especially those of us not interested in football) opted to do some homework, too. So, I sat in the Bush's kitchen, alternating between watching Super Bowl commercials and reading Psalms. Talk about a clash of cultures.


After dinner, the die-hard, I-actually-came-to-watch-the-Super-Bowl people parked themselves in front of the TV to finish watching (and loudly discussing) the game while the rest of us went into another room to read or do homework. Elizabeth played the piano, while we sat contentedly doing our work. Eventually, a guitar was brought out and more people migrated to this room and we started singing praise songs we knew from memory. I sat in an armchair with my Bible on my lap, looking at the scene. Mr. and Mrs. Bush and their 11-year-old daughter sat on one couch, reading and doing a puzzle. Their 7-year-old daughter sat in the arm chair next to mine snuggling in blankets and reading a book. Cree played the guitar, and Elizabeth, Cori, Robin, Andrew, Kyle, and Sean sat in various places on couches or on the floor singing along. Elizabeth beckoned me and I joined the college kids sitting on the floor. I smiled. This was what live is supposed to be. Family that loves one another and others. Students who want to glorify God. A place where friendship, books, knowledge, joy, truth, mentoring, prayer, and songs abound. We eventually gathered around the piano as Elizabeth played or we sang acapella to many of the old hymns I grew up learning. We sang all of my all-time favorites: "Nothing But the Blood," "Be Thou My Vision," "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing," "The Old Rugged Cross," and so many more. Mrs. Bush brought out tea for us, and I laughed as I watched college-aged boys rushing to the china tea cups, trying to figure out how they were meant to be held. We sang a few more hymns and prayed. As we prayed, I felt like I was a part of the Body of Christ in a closer, more personal way than I feel when I'm at chapel or in any gathering of believers (other than my Torrey group and my home church). I was with a variety of people: one who knows me better than I know myself, one I had only met that day, and everyone else fell somewhere in between. Yet all were a part of the Body of Christ, all were my brothers and sisters in the family of God. After we prayed, we loaded up into Elizabeth's car and ended the evening by driving back to Biola on the freeway, singing along to "Don't Stop Believing" and "Lucky."


Super Bowl Sunday has held special significance to me for four years: on Super Bowl Sunday in 2007, I was baptized. Four years ago, I never imagined being here. I never could have imagined the spiritual steps I have taken. I look at my infant-Christian self, and see such a huge change in my relationship with God. I can see where He has brought me, who He has put in my life to touch me, and how He has loved me.

I Am So Sick of Just Being

I'm tired of being in passing. Of being, hoping, wishing, planning, and thinking. I want to do. I want to change the world, cry out to God, dance for joy, roll down the windows and sing my heart out, have a really philosophical discussion that alters someone's life, work so hard that I am covered in sweat, get sunburned from chopping weeds for so long, clean the whole house, run until I can't run anymore, fight the system. And I want to succeed. I want to throw all of my being into something and live it fully. I want to do that with my walk with Christ. I want to live it so thoroughly that I feel God, His love, and His mercy. I want to have passion for what I do that is so strong and fueled by my stubborness to such an extreme that God alone can stop me from acting.

I'm sick of this "just being" business. This apathetic, media-drenched, half-way-sufficient, over-commercialized, brain-dead, thoughtless, mouthy, death-obsessed, lazy, rude, crass generation and culture. Where is our desire to live? Where is our desire to find answers? Where is our heart for the world? Where is our pull to explore? We're Americans. We believe that hard work gets us anywhere. So why have we given up on it? This generation of Americans doesn't believe that hard work can get us anything we want; we believe the government, Amazon.com, Youtube, Hulu, iTunes, and Facebook gets us anything we want. Where's our honest nature? Our unwavering stance on what is moral? Our urgency to fight anything that contradicts God's law? What happened to those morals that our founding fathers had? We now settle for what is easy, even if it means breaking some moral boundaries. We run to the classes that give easy A's, the job that makes a lot without requiring a lot of work, the minimum work with maximum benefits. Aren't we the nation who is willing to fight against impossible odds for our freedom? Aren't we a nation of pioneers who left their homeland and fought drought, flood, famine, snowdrifts, Indians, and wild animals just so we could have a piece of land to call our own? Aren't we the "rugged individualists," the adventurers, the pioneers, the founders, the fighters? What has happened to us?

We now prefer having something handed to us on a silver plate, even if its not really ours. As long as we get the easy life, we don't care what strings are attached. We don't care that we aren't living whole-heartedly for God. We don't care that others have control over our destinies. What happened to our American, our human desire to live? To live every moment as if it was our last? To live each day as if God was watching? To look at each person as a child of God? To take every oppurtunity to praise Him, love Him, learn about Him? Let us live in faith. Faith that He will bless us and lead us if we give all to Him.

What God Is Probably Trying to Tell Me Right Now

Today I have been lazy, restless, grouchy, angsty, worried, whiny, sarcastic, frustrated, unsettled, annoyed, sloppy, and stylin' the college look (which is undefinable because college students are all about being "different"...think Ash in The Fantastic Mr. Fox "different").

And God is probably looking at me right now now saying, "My child, if you only knew all that you will learn, how much you will love, and what joy you will find this semester, you wouldn't be restless about taking this next step. You wouldn't be reluctant to go back. If you only knew what you will be doing with your major one day down the road, you wouldn't be stressing right now; you would be smiling. If you only knew how your life has and will touch so many others, you wouldn't even be thinking about yourself right now. If you only knew what things you will soon be doing that you either never thought you would do or swore you would never do, you would be laughing right now instead of worrying. So trust Me."

I should be listening.

Worship

"I think that's why we worship. Otherwise we would always be angry at God."
-Dustin Adams

This Stopped Me Dead in My Proverbial Tracks Last Night

"I choose to believe in the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost - in Christ, my lord and my God. Christianity has the ring, the feel, of unique truth. Of essential truth. By it, life is made full instead of empty, meaningful instead of meaningless. Cosmos becomes beautiful at the Centre, instead of chillingly ugly beneath the lovely pathos of spring. But the emptiness, the meaninglessness, and the ugliness can only be seen, I think, when one has glimpsed the fullness, the meaning, and the beauty. It is when heaven and hell have both been glimpsed that going back is impossible. But to go on seemed impossible, also. A glimpse is not a vision. A choice was necessary: and there is no certainty. One can only choose a side. So I - I choose my side: I choose beauty; I choose what I love. But choosing to believe is believing. It's all I can do: choose. I confess my doubts and ask my Lord Christ to enter my life. I do not know God is, I do but say: Be it unto me according to Thy will. I do not affirm that I am without doubt, I do but ask for help having chosen, to overcome it. I do but say: Lord, I believe - help Thou mine unbelief."

~Sheldon Vanauken

A Weird Feeling

On New Year's Eve, I went shot-gun shooting with my dad and my brother and a bunch of Boy Scouts. I came back home and took a two-and-a-half-hour nap. Then I crashed an hour before midnight and slept for nine straight hours. I haven't slept that much since I got sick right around mid-terms. And I wasn't even doing anything hard or exhausting. In fact, an average day at Biola crams in more activity than I've done in the last two weeks.

I have a weird feeling of being refreshed because I've had time to rest, yet feeling useless because I haven't been doing much of anything lately. Then I see my friends who are taking interterm classes, working, or making progress on next semester's reading, and then I look at myself. I have done pretty much nothing. I feel lazy and a bit ridiculous sitting at home, or thrift store shopping instead of working.

I also have a weird mix of wanting to go back to Biola, but at the same time dreading going back (or at least dreading registration). I desperately want to see my friends. But, I'm worried about working out the details with paying tuition and making a decision about my major.

Then, I'm feeling relieved to be home, where I have my own room, a kitchen to cook in, time to watch movies, parents who will buy food and other things for me, a car, a ranch in the country to visit, and a church full of people who have watched me grow up. At the same time, being home makes me frustrated and angry when I see my dad get angry, or make snide remarks to me or my brother, or embarrass me in front of my entire church. Or when I see my mom struggling to walk. Or when my brother has a strange mix of cockiness and apathy and I'm not sure what to do with him and my temper gets the better of me.

Part of me feels like I belong here, in the house I have lived in all my life, where I constantly run across reminders of my childhood, what I once loved to do, my joys when I was a kid. I found tons of pictures from my childhood while I was looking for pictures for my brother's Eagle Scout Court of Honor. I found pictures of me and him playing together, riding a rocking horse, playing dress-up, and helping my dad. I found pictures of myself: dressed up like a pioneer girl, reading a book, playing or posing with my friends. These pictures remind me of my past, who I was, who I am. My past (and my home) will always be a part of me...yet while I have this new-found appreciation of my past and my childhood, I feel like I don't belong here. I keep remembering that I will be moving back to Biola in a few weeks, and I am excited to plan what my dorm room will look like next semester. I feel comfortable enough at home, that I might actually miss it when I move back to Biola.

Part of me wants to dream, imagine, and wish for the future, while another part of me is afraid of the future and knows that my imaginings won't work out the way I wish. Instead, problems will arise, and I will be disappointed.

And all mixed in with this, I have a strange desire to hide from God, forget about Him, and take a break from Him...yet at the same time, I long to rest in His love and the knowledge that He has a plan for my life, and it's better than I can imagine. In almost every area of my life, I feel pulled in two directions: two responses to God, two homes, two views of my past and my family, two views of my future. It leaves me at a stalemate, so to speak. In so many areas, I don't know what to do or where to go or how to act, so I do nothing. I need courage to act, courage to keep going when I'm afraid, courage to make a decision, courage to do the right thing. And as I write this, the words from Joshua that seem to keep turning up run through my mind: "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go."

What I Get to Thinking About When I Have Free Time

When I have time to think about something that is not homework, my thoughts go in many directions. Such as...

Home isn't as restful as I had hoped. I was hoping I would have less worries at home. I don't have less worries, just different worries. I've been thinking a lot about God lately. I've been praying all semester that God would help me sort out what to do about my major, and I haven't gotten any definitive answer. Is that evidence that He isn't answering yet, or that I'm not listening hard enough? But what grounds have I to talk ask God for stuff like this? What makes me think He cares? After all, this is the God that created the earth and all that is in it in six days. This is the God who is mightier and holier than my wildest imagination. what makes me think He wants anything to do with me and my worries about what to study at college? Especially when I give Him lip service instead of an honest heart, and the cold shoulder instead of true devotion.

It's funny. I spent so much of this semester reading the Bible. Seven books. It gave me a brand new "ah ha!" view of the Bible that still astounds me. But I don't feel closer to god because of it. I feel more like I'm seeing more of God, or the bigger picture of God, but I have to step back to fully see it (or to see as much as has been revealed to me). On one hand, this feels right. I have to see God as the Bible portrays Him, not as I imagine Him. At the same time, shouldn't this understanding of God build a strong relationship, not make me feel far away?

I'm reading A Severe Mercy right now. At one point, one of the characters realizes that she is sinful. It makes her so upset that she shakes, cries, and cannot get over it for quite some time. I never had that. Is that bad? I grew knowing that I did bad things. I never had a moment of realization (at least not as serious as Davy feels) that I was a little dirty object, but God wanted a relationship with me anyway. I haven't felt the power of the gospel for a very, very long time...should I? I'm not a fan of the emotionalism in the church today (in fact, I almost gave up on my faith partially because of that), but is emotion necessary for a growing relationship with God? Or at least an excitement for the gospel? I know I haven't felt it recently, but every so often I do. If emotion is necessary, why is it so fleeting?

I want to be honest about what I feel and believe about God, but I am not used to it. My family is the type that gives Christian answers for everything, but doesn't really hold onto that. I don't want to start quoting Bible verses to myself that don't really help because I'm just reciting words, but I know I need to turn to God. I just wish I could express my feelings about God without using cliches phrases or ideas. I think that's what this whole rant is really about: not liking Christian cliches about emotions, devotions, Bible reading, Bible verses, or any of that.

In the Last Two Days I Have...

-Completed four pull questions (that actually occurred within the last 24 hours)

-Drawn a timeline for one of my pull questions, complete with color-coded motif tracking. My Biblical Lit and Old and New Testament History classes from high school came in very handy.

-Gotten my first Torrey paper back for revisions. It is a mess of red pen, black pen, and probably a few of my tears.

-Almost scheduled a ride back home for Thanksgiving.

-Laughed, cried, smiled, thought, prayed, stressed, and stared at my bookshelf.

-Been reminded that I am not the only one freaking out about her major.

-Received more hugs than I probably have a right to.

-Realized how blessed I am.

-Gotten a whole new outlook on the book I previously viewed as the most boring book of the Bible (Numbers).

-Realized that the majority of the book of Numbers really can be sung to the tune of "The 12 Days of Christmas" (courtesy of Mary Kate Reynolds).

-Gotten cast as an extra in a film shoot.

-Proclaimed my Torrey nerd-ness by wearing a T-shirt that says "Aslan is on the Move" all over campus.

-Had chills go up my spine when I heard Matthew 6:33 read to me in the middle of a crazy mass of people in the caf.

-Promised myself that I will finish my Brit Lit essay by Saturday.

-Watched "Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed." At Biola. (For those who have forgotten, Biola is one of the places Ben Stein visited on his travels to understand Intelligent Design and its implications).

-Eaten lasagna from the Knotts Berry Farm restaurant and realized that it looks and tastes remarkably like the Stoffers lasagna I used cook for my family.

-Been thoroughly encouraged by the presence and attitude of my dear friend, Juliet San Nicolas.

-Realized that one week from today I will be eating bar-be-qued turkey and stuffing, pumpkin pie, crock-pot green beans and bacon, and, of course, potatoes.

-Tried very hard not to be jealous of Austin Smith and his copy of the complete letters of C.S. Lewis.

-Realized that almost exactly one year ago I was visiting APU and wanting to go there...and now I thank God for putting me at Biola.

Prayers of the Past

Sometimes, I'm so stressed that nothing from this century seems to make me feel better. Sometimes words from those who lived out the Christian faith at its most trying times are the perfect dose of perspective. A peek into their hearts through their prayers always reminds me that Christ is so much more important than anything else.

Prayer from the Breast Plate of St. Patrick

Christ be with me

Christ before me

Christ behind me

Christ in me

Christ beneath me

Christ above me

Christ on my right

Christ on my left

Christ where I lie

Christ where I sit

Christ where I arise

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me

Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me

Christ in every eye that sees me

Christ in every ear that hears me

Salvation is of the Lord.

Old Irish Prayer

Dear Lord, Give me a few friends who will love me for what I am, and keep ever burning before my vagrant steps the kindly light of hope...And though I come not within sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me to be thankful for life, and for time's olden memories that are good and sweet. And may the evening's twilight find me gentle still.

Prayer of Saint Augustine

Look upon us, O Lord,

and let all the darkness of our souls

vanish before the beams of thy brightness.

Fill us with holy love,

and open to us the treasures of thy wisdom.

All our desire is known unto thee,

therefore perfect what thou hast begun,

and what thy Spirit has awakened us to ask in prayer.

We seek thy face,

turn thy face unto us and show us thy glory.

Then shall our longing be satisfied,

and our peace shall be perfect.

Prayer of Jerome

Lord, thou hast given us thy Word for a light to shine upon our path;

grant us so to meditate on that Word, and to follow its teaching,

that we may find in it the light that shines more and more until the perfect day;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Prayer of Patrick

Lord, be with us this day,

Within us to pruify us;

Above us to draw us up;

Beneath us to sustain us;

Before us to lead us;

Behind us to restrain us;

Around us to protect us.

Traditional Celtic Prayer

You are the peace of all things calm

You are the place to hide from harm

You are the light that shines in dark

You are the heart's eternal spark

You are the door that's open wide

You are the guest who waits inside

You are the stranger at the door

You are the calling of the poor

You are my Lord and with me still

You are my love, keep me from ill

You are the light, the truth, the way

You are my Saviour this very day.

This Is What Happens When I Start Stressing About Torrey Reading

Part of me thinks I encountered an angel tonight. Another part of me thinks I actually encountered a Biola student who was doing what God wanted her to: answering my unspoken prayer. Or maybe it was both.

The last two weeks have been crazy for me: midterms, Mid Rags, writing my paper, reading Faerie Queene and now Paradise Lost, zoo fiascos, more decisions about my major, planning a trip back to Bakersfield, and the Torrey Conference. Add on top of that the fact that I really don't want to be working right now. Tonight I almost hit my breaking point. I was in the library, reading Milton, and not understanding a single word I was reading. Not good when I don't have much time to read and comprehend 260 pages of Milton.

I left the library around 10:15, hoping that relocating, getting sleep, or something would help me focus. I sat down on a bench in front of Rosemead and proceeded to take another crack at Milton. I was nearly in tears because I was so burnt out and frustrated that I couldn't understand the language of the book, much less analyze its meaning.

Suddenly I looked up and notice a young woman I didn't recognize walking toward me. She asked me if she could pray for me. My heart skipped a beat. There was no way she could have known how utterly overwhelmed I was feeling.

She introduced herself as Rebecca, and I introduced myself. She asked me what my name means. I said, "God is gracious." Then it hit me...that was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment. That no matter what happens, no matter if I finish Paradise Lost on time or not, God still has grace for me.

She prayed for me, not only in the area I requested prayer in (being overwhelmed with work) but in so many other areas as well. Her hand on my shoulder was comforting, and I felt myself calm down and remember God's grace and the grace of the Torrey tutors and my mentor. I saw my life as a whole picture, not just this little moment I was stressing about.

I felt so special. I felt like God heard every little unspoken prayer in my heart crying out for grace and peace and sent Rebecca to calm me and assure me of His love for me.

This brought me back to something I realized I had written 12 hours earlier during my reflection time for the Torrey Conference: "When I am feeling weak, stressed, and drained, it is God drawing me to His grace. When I am feeling refreshed, encouraged, and strengthened, it is God letting me experience His grace."

Thank you for pulling the pieces together for me, God.

Wonder

When I hear something really great, I like to ponder it for a while. Sometimes that while turns into a long while. If it's something funny, I am likely to write it down in my quote book or post it on Facebook. If it is a serious quote, I am likely to write it in the back of my Torrey Bible, write in my journal about it, write a blog post about it, text it to one of my friends, go on and on about it when I talk to someone, or all of the above.

I went to Grace Evangelical Free Church in La Mirada for church this morning. I was struck anew with something that I try to constantly remember, but constantly fail: wonder.

Wonder is a tricky thing. You can't try to wonder: that defeats the purpose. True, real, genuine wonder is not something you can practice and become good at. Which means that when you have been raised in a Christian family, gone to Christian schools for your whole life, and areat a Christian college...you have to find new ways to rediscover the wonder of God's love.

The text for the sermon was on Isaiah 42 and 43. In chapter 42, especially near the end, Isaiah tells Israel what royal idiots they are. Which reminds me of myself. I am such a royal idiot sometimes. More than sometimes. But Isaiah goes on to say in chapter 43 that God loves Israel anyway. He deeply loves Israel. He knows them by name, claims them as His people, gives men in exchange for them, holds them as precious to Himself. Even though they are idiots who constantly disobey Him.

So often I forget how potent the word of God is. If I take time to really look at it, it can renew my wonder for God's love. Reading certain verses still gives me chills even though I have read those same verses at least a hundred times.

I forget how much of an idiot I am. How I fail to trust God. How I fail to look to Him in so many areas. How I still think of myself first instead of others. And the sad thing is, I rarely see it when I'm doing it. But when I do see it, it makes me repulsed with myself.

Then I read verses like Isaiah 43 and realize that God loves this dirty little thing known as me. He sees me as precious, and He tells me He loves me. It fills me with wonder and how this could possibly be.

One quote from the sermon: "Our wonder for God is our witness to Him."

I want people to see my wonder for God and say, "Has she really known God for years? His love still seems so wonderful to her. I want that."