Yesterday, I was having dinner with my grandparents who were passing through on their way to New York, and they happened to casually mention that they had gone to the March on Washington. So casually. They drew a diagram, nails as inked point and fingers as pen shaft, on my napkin, diagramming in invisible vividity where they had been positioned--very near, they told me, to Dr. King--relative to the National Mall. There was a friend of theirs, they said, who hadn't come to the march, hadn't joined them and their fellow church members to feel that crowd, and to be it. They told me about the race riots in Harlem, where they lived, in that great city from which my grandma says thousands of buses were just streaming, filled, toward Washington in preparation for the March that day--about living within the several blocks where rioting was most intense and watching Molotov cocktails sail through the sky and ignite on the ground during long nights in the city.
There was something profound about that to me, just so striking, to be related to these people. For their stories to be my heritage. I don't quite know what to make of it.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Accounting for these last 4 months
I've been pondering no less than usual in the past third of a year, which has elapsed quietly (at least as the blogosphere is concerned, with nary a post from me): not for a lack of things to say, but for a lack of energy, or perhaps eloquence, with which to say them. That, and the fact that I generally quite like not having my private thoughts displayed on the internet. I'd rather ponder them, bring them into prayer, perhaps share some with a particularly dear friend, but mostly just kind of let them mull; I've had a mostly lazy summer, which has included a surprisingly high intake of episodes of Chopped on The Food Network, and so the metaphor I'll choose is that I'd rather be eliminated from the competition, from the increasingly frenetic and dwindlingly private social spaces I see my generation occupying, than serve a dish that's unappetizingly underdone, only carried to partial completion and given woefully inadequate time to simmer and develop.
Still, to be completely private undermines the point of a blog (the purpose of maintaining which, after the inciting circumstance of my Bridge Year ended three years ago, I find unclear, though I endeavor onward because I can't shake the idea that there's something redemptive about writing it, whether for me or someone who happens across it). With every intention of publishing a particular post, which has been percolating for quite some time now, very soon, prior to beginning my senior year in a couple of weeks, here is a sampling of some posts I began writing, but which were relegated to the archives of Blogger because the yolks were still too runny:
April. "How to Study All Night."
This post was to be a running commentary of the final 18 hours before my junior independent work, which ultimately amounted to a 25 page research paper on the anthropological critiques of obstetric and midwifery interventions during childbirth, was due. Praise the Lord, in all seriousness, for sustaining me during that time of foolishness; unnecessarily esoteric, if exact, academic words; and harried editing, and may he lead me not into the temptation to ever do such a thing again.
May. "Organic Chemistry, or, How God Feels About Cs."
That's pretty much the summation. I'll say I pushed through last semester (read: year) on pretty much one prayer: "Dad, I know you know how hard I'm working, and you know that I'm just exhausted and I can't really do more than I'm doing--but so long as you see my heart, which you do, I only ask that you be pleased with it, knowing, like you do, that all I want is for you, who do not judge from outward appearance, as man does, to get glory and praise from me and from all I do." Ultimately, I ended the semester with a C in organic chemistry (which made me think very deeply about how God gets glory when people work with skill, but how I still knew he was not disappointed despite my evident lack of it), a lot of frustration and exhaustion, and, soon, a diagnosis (which, ultimately, was pure grace) of extreme--or, as my doctor called it, "abysmal"--iron deficiency that would explain why junior year felt to me like perpetually banging my head against a wall of academics.
June. "Wise, humble, and courageous."
Actually, this title was more a note to myself, but I guess I was going to expound it into a post. It's the list I told my friend she she asked me what three qualities were most important to me in looking for a husband, given that he was a Christian. "Courageous" was more of a placeholder for a word I never quite apprehended, but it was something along the lines of brave, or not fearing man, or something like that. Valiant, maybe? Still looking.
July (a). "Moving Forward."
I'm actually not quite sure what this was supposed to be, but I do know it contained a reference to the percentage of my life (approximately 6) during which I had considered myself "premed." This leads me to believe I was intending to hash out all my reasons why I don't want to be a doctor and what to be a physician assistant instead, but the evidence was too overwhelming to corral. It also included a link what I considered to be a thoughtful, nuanced, and horribly disturbing op-ed on the Trayvon Martin case, though the possible link between the two thoughts has escaped me; likely, there was not one.
July (b). "Church."
This sort of post is one that I've been considering writing since last summer, or maybe last spring, on my understanding of the role, the responsibility, the frayedness, and the ravishing beauty of the bride and the body of Jesus. I went to two strikingly different churches (well, and my own at home, but that one I'm leaving aside) this summer, and their uniqueness inspired a lot of thought in me about what the church must be, what it can be, and what it should be. This is one that will not be quite completed until I get to heaven and ask the church's groom to tell me, as I imagine his eyes glowing and fiery, all about his beloved, and how he sees her, and who she is to him (though from down here I get glimpses)--but it's something I don't go a week without thinking about.
So that's that. I guess in light of my shrouded, and somewhat hypocritical, explanation on my blog of my ambivalence toward blogging, I'll close with one of the wisest pieces of advice I've ever heard on developing into a tool that Jesus can use, which in no way undermines the vital importance of wise mentors and dedication to a Christian community. This from a wise brother named Daniel who loves the Lord: "Be formed in hiddenness."
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Monday, March 18, 2013
Spring Break 2013
= so, so good.
So far, by the numbers, in exactly no order:
1 wonderful conversation with one of my lovely zees about calling, and consolation and desolation (I'm really into that), and discerning God's will when the sort of God you're talking to also literally sent a giant fish to eat a man and regurgitate him in the right place when we was intent on going to the wrong place.
3.5 pages of my nitration of vanillin and nitrovanillin lab report done.
6 CPR mannequins (plus bags of fake lungs, disinfected plastic mannequin faces, pocket masks, and all the other accouterments of CPR teaching) lugged around the campus center and properly stored after one long morning of teaching.
1 surprise paycheck that I forgot I had coming.
2 dear, godly friends with whom to share a blessed and relaxing weekend, and pray and laugh and talk about biblical womanhood. You both mean so, so much to me, more than I can write, so I pray that I can just live it.
3 chicken breasts poorly thawed but eventually cooked and served with what is really my culinary masterpiece up to this point in my life: alfredo sauce! Sort of, but it was quite experimental and thickened up nicely in some sort of roux-like fashion. My brothers would be proud (not only of the roux, but of my weekend of non-vegetarianism)!
7 text messages home trying to figure out if there's a way I qualify to not pay full price for the MCAT; that stuff is expensive! Still unclear, but at least I can try! Also, 2 incredible and patient parents who love me so fiercely and well and patiently, and who also help me out with things like taxes and making the MCAT cheaper and teaching me to fix blown fuses in cars.
150 pages of my print quota gone. Because readings and lab reports and presentations and problem sets and case studies all ought to be done to the glory of God.
2 houses of worship in which to celebrate God's goodness, find conviction, and praise God. Redeeming Eve at Epiphany, and Rejoicing Sacrifice at NCC! Amen, and thank you.
3 wonderful tromps in the slushy, sleety rain-ish precipitation. I secretly love it.
1 (but 3--no oneness theology up in here) awesome Onyame Okyankop)n Twereduamp)n Awurade Papa making it all happen.
So far, by the numbers, in exactly no order:
1 wonderful conversation with one of my lovely zees about calling, and consolation and desolation (I'm really into that), and discerning God's will when the sort of God you're talking to also literally sent a giant fish to eat a man and regurgitate him in the right place when we was intent on going to the wrong place.
3.5 pages of my nitration of vanillin and nitrovanillin lab report done.
6 CPR mannequins (plus bags of fake lungs, disinfected plastic mannequin faces, pocket masks, and all the other accouterments of CPR teaching) lugged around the campus center and properly stored after one long morning of teaching.
1 surprise paycheck that I forgot I had coming.
2 dear, godly friends with whom to share a blessed and relaxing weekend, and pray and laugh and talk about biblical womanhood. You both mean so, so much to me, more than I can write, so I pray that I can just live it.
3 chicken breasts poorly thawed but eventually cooked and served with what is really my culinary masterpiece up to this point in my life: alfredo sauce! Sort of, but it was quite experimental and thickened up nicely in some sort of roux-like fashion. My brothers would be proud (not only of the roux, but of my weekend of non-vegetarianism)!
7 text messages home trying to figure out if there's a way I qualify to not pay full price for the MCAT; that stuff is expensive! Still unclear, but at least I can try! Also, 2 incredible and patient parents who love me so fiercely and well and patiently, and who also help me out with things like taxes and making the MCAT cheaper and teaching me to fix blown fuses in cars.
150 pages of my print quota gone. Because readings and lab reports and presentations and problem sets and case studies all ought to be done to the glory of God.
2 houses of worship in which to celebrate God's goodness, find conviction, and praise God. Redeeming Eve at Epiphany, and Rejoicing Sacrifice at NCC! Amen, and thank you.
3 wonderful tromps in the slushy, sleety rain-ish precipitation. I secretly love it.
1 (but 3--no oneness theology up in here) awesome Onyame Okyankop)n Twereduamp)n Awurade Papa making it all happen.
Monday, February 25, 2013
My Deepest Fear
I was at a dinner tonight with the new 2013-14 cadre of resident advisers, and, in jest, we suggested that, to introduce ourselves, we should each share our name, field of study, hometown... and deepest fear. After one round of benign and expected "most interesting fact" introductions, we repeated the process, agreeing to share our deepest fear. So what are we afraid of? Snakes and cavities, parallel parking and sisters being in car accidents, tornadoes and lightning, elevators and getting really lost. But for the life of me, I couldn't think of anything. Like... what makes me afraid?
At the risk of sounding like an arrogant, unthoughtful, opaque brat, I said, "I'm Jessica, and I can't think of anything I'm afraid of. I'm not afraid of things." Which sounded like a huge lie. And like a huge cop-out. People started offering suggestions of things I might have forgotten--people lying to me? my mother dying? not getting a job? pain? never getting married? having my tongue slowly torn out of my mouth? something bad happening to my residents/zees? dying?--but to no avail. Not scary.
There was a time that I would have said that my greatest (and perhaps only) fear was that my four years of college would be my spiritual heyday, that everything thereafter would be a fading reminiscence of those days when I'd pray and study the Bible for an hour every morning as I sat on my bed, where I could easily think of 20 people I could call if ever I needed someone to pray for me literally at a moment's notice, where I could pace up and down the aisles after church, praying in whatever language I wanted and singing praises loudly and not caring if anyone else lingering heard me, where I could stand on the steps of the campus center and gather everyone's attention just to tell them that Jesus loved them and that I loved Jesus--and that I'd try to live off stale grace and rancid manna for the rest of my life.
But no. I've been down, and I've been up, and there's literally nothing that can separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:39)--not even graduating from college. Who is my God if He cannot require more of me after I graduate than before? And who am I to fear for His lack of provision? "And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord's glory, are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit" (2 Corinthians 3:17)!! Seriously?! Sometimes I am all giddy that those promises are for me, that that's me, the one being transformed. From glory to glory.
Which means I scratched that "fear" off the one-item list. What of these other fears?
1) People lying to me.
People do lie to me, and will continue to do so. I don't quite get what's very scary about this--maybe that we trust people, and them lying to us will breech our trust. I just had to fill out an online survey, and one of the questions was, "How many days in a typical week do you feel like people are basically good?"--to which I had to respond, in the midst of a veritable pond (there weren't enough questions for it to be a sea... so just a pond. Or maybe a small lake) of cheery responses to similar questions about my general mood, "zero." Because people are basically broken and evil, just in the process of being healed. Which means they lie. I trust people, and a lot of them (plus I'm all about giving the benefit of the doubt, and often many multiple times), but because of this, I can't take lying personally. I don't trust regular people like I trust Jesus, who is "not a man that he should lie" (Numbers 23:19a).
2) My mother dying.
I love her so much! She's wonderful, and I can't imagine what it would be like losing her. She's a humble servant of the Lord, and she loves people in such practical ways. But really, let's be honest: she's going to Heaven when she dies, so why be afraid?
3) Not getting a job.
This is the one I understood least--along with people lying to me. My job won't define me, and if I can't land a "job" per se, there will still be work to be done, since people were created in the image of a God who works (see: Genesis 1-2). Moreover, God's a provider, providing even for sparrows who "neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns" (Matthew 6).
4) Pain.
I've been in pain before. It's not fun, but it passes--and wow, there's nothing (not even morphine, as I can attest after my appendectomy) that relieves pain like singing praise. And if the pain doesn't pass, I guess ultimately I'll die of it--see point 8. This is basically irrelevant, but I have a pretty high pain tolerance, too.
5) Never getting married.
Nothing, including marriage, is promised to me. And as much as I really desire to get married, that's that.
6) Having my tongue slowly torn out of my mouth.
What I know is that when the disciples died gruesome deaths, somehow God was always exalted. So I can imagine this sort of torture happening to me, and when I do it takes the form of religious persecution. This is my spiritual heritage in a lot of ways. Paul writes (and God, let me resoundingly agree to the depths and crevices of my soul!), "I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death" (Philippians 1:21). For real! And even if not for religious persecution, but for senseless torture or political reasons or whatever, still--I would glorify God with my body.
7) Something bad happening to my zees.
This, in some ways, tied my hands, since the question was posed by one of my zees. But as much as I think about them, care about them, pray for them, fast for them--no, I'm not afraid for them. Bad things have happened and will happen to them, and though my heart has ached for them, being scared for them will do literally nothing to help them. And, though I do care about them so so much, I am no one's savior, and I can't always rescue them and protect them, or anyone else.
8) Dying.
I spent almost an hour today sobbing. Just crying--saying, Father, you need to come and fix Your world! Because You made it good, and then things fell apart. And anything that still coheres only does so because of you, Jesus! But Daddy, you have to come and fix it, and I'll work right alongside you, doing anything you want me to do, for as long as you want me to do it, and I'll praise you for it. Someday, though, my work will be over, and then--no matter the mechanism of my departure from Earth, tongue intact or not--I will have the honor of seeing You in all your glory, like Isaiah did in the year King Uzziah died (Isaiah 6)! Far from being something scary, I can't image much else that's as exciting as dying.
Is this flippant? It feels like it, because all these answers seem obvious and immediate. But no, it's not flippant. I'm serious.
One last thing I want to say is that all this is an outgrowth. It's painful to me when people talk about religion as a mechanism for self-improvement--like you want to eat more healthy food, so you lie to yourself by convincing yourself that every dessert is infected with a chemical agent that will make you die an agonizing death. You want to not be afraid, so you believe in Jesus. That's what religion is to people who'd believe in religion as a mere means to an end. No; religion, loosely, and faith, specifically, are about striving after truth. Truth, as in there's a Redeemer of brokenness, and He--JESUS--is more powerful than anything that might be scary, including death and demons and no husband and torture and car accidents and pain and elevators and snakes. I used to have plenty of (so, so many!) fears. All I can say is that fear--except fear and reverence of the sort that means being in awe and working out your salvation--is slavery, and "It is for freedom that Christ set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yolk of slavery" (Galatians 5:1).
BOOM! Now that's real.
At the risk of sounding like an arrogant, unthoughtful, opaque brat, I said, "I'm Jessica, and I can't think of anything I'm afraid of. I'm not afraid of things." Which sounded like a huge lie. And like a huge cop-out. People started offering suggestions of things I might have forgotten--people lying to me? my mother dying? not getting a job? pain? never getting married? having my tongue slowly torn out of my mouth? something bad happening to my residents/zees? dying?--but to no avail. Not scary.
There was a time that I would have said that my greatest (and perhaps only) fear was that my four years of college would be my spiritual heyday, that everything thereafter would be a fading reminiscence of those days when I'd pray and study the Bible for an hour every morning as I sat on my bed, where I could easily think of 20 people I could call if ever I needed someone to pray for me literally at a moment's notice, where I could pace up and down the aisles after church, praying in whatever language I wanted and singing praises loudly and not caring if anyone else lingering heard me, where I could stand on the steps of the campus center and gather everyone's attention just to tell them that Jesus loved them and that I loved Jesus--and that I'd try to live off stale grace and rancid manna for the rest of my life.
But no. I've been down, and I've been up, and there's literally nothing that can separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:39)--not even graduating from college. Who is my God if He cannot require more of me after I graduate than before? And who am I to fear for His lack of provision? "And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord's glory, are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit" (2 Corinthians 3:17)!! Seriously?! Sometimes I am all giddy that those promises are for me, that that's me, the one being transformed. From glory to glory.
Which means I scratched that "fear" off the one-item list. What of these other fears?
1) People lying to me.
People do lie to me, and will continue to do so. I don't quite get what's very scary about this--maybe that we trust people, and them lying to us will breech our trust. I just had to fill out an online survey, and one of the questions was, "How many days in a typical week do you feel like people are basically good?"--to which I had to respond, in the midst of a veritable pond (there weren't enough questions for it to be a sea... so just a pond. Or maybe a small lake) of cheery responses to similar questions about my general mood, "zero." Because people are basically broken and evil, just in the process of being healed. Which means they lie. I trust people, and a lot of them (plus I'm all about giving the benefit of the doubt, and often many multiple times), but because of this, I can't take lying personally. I don't trust regular people like I trust Jesus, who is "not a man that he should lie" (Numbers 23:19a).
2) My mother dying.
I love her so much! She's wonderful, and I can't imagine what it would be like losing her. She's a humble servant of the Lord, and she loves people in such practical ways. But really, let's be honest: she's going to Heaven when she dies, so why be afraid?
3) Not getting a job.
This is the one I understood least--along with people lying to me. My job won't define me, and if I can't land a "job" per se, there will still be work to be done, since people were created in the image of a God who works (see: Genesis 1-2). Moreover, God's a provider, providing even for sparrows who "neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns" (Matthew 6).
4) Pain.
I've been in pain before. It's not fun, but it passes--and wow, there's nothing (not even morphine, as I can attest after my appendectomy) that relieves pain like singing praise. And if the pain doesn't pass, I guess ultimately I'll die of it--see point 8. This is basically irrelevant, but I have a pretty high pain tolerance, too.
5) Never getting married.
Nothing, including marriage, is promised to me. And as much as I really desire to get married, that's that.
6) Having my tongue slowly torn out of my mouth.
What I know is that when the disciples died gruesome deaths, somehow God was always exalted. So I can imagine this sort of torture happening to me, and when I do it takes the form of religious persecution. This is my spiritual heritage in a lot of ways. Paul writes (and God, let me resoundingly agree to the depths and crevices of my soul!), "I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death" (Philippians 1:21). For real! And even if not for religious persecution, but for senseless torture or political reasons or whatever, still--I would glorify God with my body.
7) Something bad happening to my zees.
This, in some ways, tied my hands, since the question was posed by one of my zees. But as much as I think about them, care about them, pray for them, fast for them--no, I'm not afraid for them. Bad things have happened and will happen to them, and though my heart has ached for them, being scared for them will do literally nothing to help them. And, though I do care about them so so much, I am no one's savior, and I can't always rescue them and protect them, or anyone else.
8) Dying.
I spent almost an hour today sobbing. Just crying--saying, Father, you need to come and fix Your world! Because You made it good, and then things fell apart. And anything that still coheres only does so because of you, Jesus! But Daddy, you have to come and fix it, and I'll work right alongside you, doing anything you want me to do, for as long as you want me to do it, and I'll praise you for it. Someday, though, my work will be over, and then--no matter the mechanism of my departure from Earth, tongue intact or not--I will have the honor of seeing You in all your glory, like Isaiah did in the year King Uzziah died (Isaiah 6)! Far from being something scary, I can't image much else that's as exciting as dying.
Is this flippant? It feels like it, because all these answers seem obvious and immediate. But no, it's not flippant. I'm serious.
One last thing I want to say is that all this is an outgrowth. It's painful to me when people talk about religion as a mechanism for self-improvement--like you want to eat more healthy food, so you lie to yourself by convincing yourself that every dessert is infected with a chemical agent that will make you die an agonizing death. You want to not be afraid, so you believe in Jesus. That's what religion is to people who'd believe in religion as a mere means to an end. No; religion, loosely, and faith, specifically, are about striving after truth. Truth, as in there's a Redeemer of brokenness, and He--JESUS--is more powerful than anything that might be scary, including death and demons and no husband and torture and car accidents and pain and elevators and snakes. I used to have plenty of (so, so many!) fears. All I can say is that fear--except fear and reverence of the sort that means being in awe and working out your salvation--is slavery, and "It is for freedom that Christ set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yolk of slavery" (Galatians 5:1).
BOOM! Now that's real.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
seasons
Just aware of my own insufficiency today, and taking it back old school:
He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.
Ecclesiastes 3:11
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Friday, January 4, 2013
Sharing some articles
Just wanted to share some interesting stuff I've read recently!
Clear Decks (Boundless)
Wow. Just wow. This is a message I need to hear literally every day.
Mauritania Bans Plastic Bag Use (BBC)
I've never been to Mauritania, and props to environmentalists for helping to be good stewards of this earth, but... I can't help but wonder what traders and vendors who rely on thin polythene bags to package many of their wares, if Mauritania bears any resemblance to Ghana in that way, are supposed to do now.
Does Confidence Really Breed Success? (BBC)
Short answer: No. An interesting quote from the article, from a researcher at Florida State, Roy Baumeister: "Self-control is much more powerful and well-supported [than self-confidence] as a cause of personal success." The articles's a good reminder about humility, for sure. Lord, remind me of my proper worth in Your eyes.
Neuron Overload and the Juggling Physician (The Lancet)
It's likely I'll post again on this soon, or at least before too long. For now, note that the MD/PA (that's the healthcare, not geographic, dualism) debate has begun in my mind--and while I doubt that this sort of "neuron overload" is that different between doctors and physician assistants, it's just one of those things that makes me sorta wary of the years ahead, excited and believing for grace though I am.
Thoughts from the Dying for a New Year (Coracle)
Beginnings (birth) and endings (death) are two of the most profound, sacred parts of life. God, we need more grace--Let us live unto you and not be beholden to the demands of the world.
And because I've listened to this song about 15 times today, I'll share it was well... Peace!!
Clear Decks (Boundless)
Wow. Just wow. This is a message I need to hear literally every day.
Mauritania Bans Plastic Bag Use (BBC)
I've never been to Mauritania, and props to environmentalists for helping to be good stewards of this earth, but... I can't help but wonder what traders and vendors who rely on thin polythene bags to package many of their wares, if Mauritania bears any resemblance to Ghana in that way, are supposed to do now.
Does Confidence Really Breed Success? (BBC)
Short answer: No. An interesting quote from the article, from a researcher at Florida State, Roy Baumeister: "Self-control is much more powerful and well-supported [than self-confidence] as a cause of personal success." The articles's a good reminder about humility, for sure. Lord, remind me of my proper worth in Your eyes.
Neuron Overload and the Juggling Physician (The Lancet)
It's likely I'll post again on this soon, or at least before too long. For now, note that the MD/PA (that's the healthcare, not geographic, dualism) debate has begun in my mind--and while I doubt that this sort of "neuron overload" is that different between doctors and physician assistants, it's just one of those things that makes me sorta wary of the years ahead, excited and believing for grace though I am.
Thoughts from the Dying for a New Year (Coracle)
Beginnings (birth) and endings (death) are two of the most profound, sacred parts of life. God, we need more grace--Let us live unto you and not be beholden to the demands of the world.
And because I've listened to this song about 15 times today, I'll share it was well... Peace!!
(link)
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