"To Love At All is to Be Vulnerable"

So I've got a confession to make. I don't hate Valentine's Day. In fact, it's my fourth favorite holiday (after Easter, Christmas, and my birthday). Here's another interesting fact: I'm single. And have been for the past five Valentine's Days. I thought I'd take a moment to explain how those two seemingly contradictory thoughts make sense.

Single. Why am I single? Great question. The simple answer to that question is because I choose to be. As a recent college graduate in her early twenties, my life is pretty unpredictable, and sometimes downright chaotic. I have no idea where I'm going to be living five months for now, let alone five years from now. I'm still discerning major life decisions like employment, vocation, and community. It's not fair for me to ask someone to commit to me before I do.

A second reason I'm single is because I need to be. I chose to dedicate a year of my life to mission work. In order to invest in the relationships with the men and women I've been called to serve with and alongside, I cannot invest in a single romantic relationship. I like to think of it as I need to be single, versus I have to be single because "having to be single" negates my choice, as well as the joy I've experienced as a result of my choice.

One way I can share with others the joy of singleness is to refuse to become bitter about Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day, at it's core, is about showing your love for others, and feeling loved by others. So why not take a day to celebrate all the relationships God has placed in your life?  Take a minute to write your roommate a note honoring her for the way she always lends a sympathetic ear when you're having a bad day. Thank your co-worker for the times he's cleaned the kitchen so you could meet your deadline. Text your family and thank them for their prayers and support as you spread your wings in a new city.

Part of the reason that people become bitter about Valentine's Day is because of the commercialization of the holiday. Why have we allowed Valentine's Day to become all about the card, flowers, and expensive presents? Because this "stuff" distracts us from the vulnerabilities of love. It's much easier to buy someone a dozen roses and scribble "I Love You" on the card, then caring for your beloved when he/she falls ill. I think I'll wrap up this post with a quote from C.S.Lewis, which explains why I think reclaiming Valentine's Day as a celebration of loving others and feeling loved by others is a principle worth fighting for:

" To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."

Knowing About God vs. Knowing God

Happy February everyone! This week for GAP training, we've been assigned chapters to read from Knowing God by J.I. Packer. Sure enough, the Lord used this book to teach me a lesson this week on the difference between knowing about God and knowing God. Let me explain.

The Ann Arbor chapter of UCO is completing it's fourth week of the Life in the Spirit Fridays (LSF). LSF is a series of introduction to Christianity talks were we discuss who God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and sin are as well as their roles in our everyday lives. LSF culminates with a time of prayer on the fifth night where we'll pray with our discussion groups for dedication, renewal, and gifts of the Holy Spirit. I've never felt the Lord's presence more powerfully than at LSF. Crammed into 716 Catherine Street with about 70 other people, there is no space for faking enthusiasm or blending in.

When we split into discussion groups, I help lead the discussion group with students from Asian Outreach (AO). The AO discussion group is unlike any of the other discussion groups in that most of our students are grappling with Christian ideas for the first time. During discussion time our students don't ask us "how do I use the gifts of the Holy Spirit to grow in discipleship?" but "who is God, and how do I know he's real?"

Before participating in the AO discussion group, I don't think anyone asked me point blank "who is God, and how do I know he's real?" Christian teachings underlies so much of American culture, that even Americans who don't identify as Christians know who God is even if they choose not to know him personally. But Asian young adults who grew up amongst the vestiges of China's Cultural Revolution lack the cultural assumption of religion as a foundation of a countries moral values.

So how does this all tie into Knowing God? I can share with my discussion group who God is just by knowing about God. I can share with them the story of Genesis, and suggest books for further reading. But in order to convince my discussion group that God is real, and not just the hero of an interesting story, I have to know God personally.To know God I must spend time with him in prayer and worship. To know God I must respond to his teachings by modifying my behaviors that contradict his teachings. To know God I must be will to share step out in faith and share the gospel with the men and women God has placed in my life. For:

"What makes life worth while is having a big enough objective, something which catches our imagination and lays hold of our allegiance, and this the Christian has, in a way no other man has. For what higher, more exalted, and more compelling goal can there be that to know God?" (Packer 30).

Ironic isn't it? You set aside a year of your life to serve others, and God uses your service as an opportunity to serve you.

"Read a Novel, it will make you a Better Person"

Today at the office it was my turn to clean the kitchen. As I started clearing off the counters preparing to wash them, I noticed that someone left fortune cookies in the "free food" area. Now I don't think anyone actually enjoys the taste of fortune cookies. They taste like Styrofoam seasoned with Splenda.  Nonetheless, we all enjoy fortune cookies for the cheesy fortunes they contain. But today, instead of the usual "for every downhill there is an uphill" adage, mine read "Read a novel, it will make you a better person." I did a little squeal of delight, then promptly taped my fortune to the office bookshelf. 

I am a reader. As a child I had trouble spelling, and for the longest time thought my name "Rebecca" was actually "reader." Reading is not a pastime, a hobby, or a chore. I read for the same reason that I breathe: because I can, and because life works much better if I do. Reading helps me feel at peace as an individual, but also as a member of the larger society I inhabit. Even on a GAP year where I spend 90% of my day serving others, I make sure that I spend at least an hour a day with my nose in a book. 

The type of book really doesn't matter. I'm much more interested in the subject matter than the genre. So far this year I've read spiritual essays, books exploring faith and housing crises in Detroit, and books on the history of racial discrimination at home and abroad. One of the best parts of being on a gap year in Ann Arbor is that I have the freedom to read what interests me, and I'm surrounded by people who keep giving me books :)

Right now I'm re-reading The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. GOW was the first novel I wrote a research paper on. I was 16, and read the novel because I didn't understand why Bruce Springsteen (my favorite musician) wrote The Ghost of Tom Joad. Through researching the history of the Great Depression and Steinbeckian literary analysis I fell madly in love with both American history and literature. (I also fell a little out of love with Springsteen who based TGOTJ on the Tom Ford film vs. Steinbeck's novel. Lame.) 

Looking back, this novel laid the groundwork for my studies at university as a history and literature major. Re-reading it now is helping me mourn the loss of my student identity, and helping me work on the jealousy I'm feeling of my housemates as they prepare for their final exams. While I don't miss the stress that comes with paper and exam due dates, I do miss reading and writing about the human experience. 

I guess I'm just going to have to start blogging more frequently. 

GAP Year Update

It's been far too long since my last blog post. I've got nothing earth shattering to , just wanted to give people an update on my GAP year. So here it is. The good, the bad, and the stretching...

First off, the good. God. God is good. All the time. All the time. God is good. I'm very blessed to be serving the Word of Life Community here in Ann Arbor. God has placed some truly talented and holy people in my life this year that I get to live, serve, and have fun with. Sometimes I go to meetings and have to pinch myself that I am actually here talking to the legendary x about catering options for a conference that I'm helping her organize. 

For the most part, I enjoy the service I've been asked to perform this year. Gappers in Ann Arbor divide their time between serving University Christian Outreach (UCO), Ignite Youth Group, the Word of Life Office, and GAP training. The percentage of time each gapper spends with each group depends on their age/state of life. For example, most of my service is with UCO as I'm a post-college student. The other two gappers I serve with work more with the Ignite Youth Group than I do since they just graduated from high school. I enjoy serving a variety of outreaches of the Word of Life Community even if it means that I have to spend an hour at the beginning of each week figuring out my schedule. 

The biggest challenge of my GAP year has been adopting a servant's heart. What does that mean? It means accepting that my schedule is not my own, and not responding in anger when someone asks me to be flexible with my time. It means carrying out my service with a joyful attitude even when I feel less than joyful. It means forgoing romantic relationships, and focusing on building relationships with my Ann Arbor sisters. It means refraining from deriving my self-worth from what I can produce, and instead recognizing my value as a child of God. 

I'm choosing to look at my GAP year as a year set apart, not a year of constant sacrifice. This year will be unlike any other year I experience, and I don't want to ruin it by adopting a woe is me attitude. God is stretching and challenging me out of love because he refuses to settle for the mediocracy I'd attain if left to my own devices. 

I'll close this post with a metaphor. Last night my housemates and I had a movie night where we watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I love this movie. The movie's a pretty classic portrayal of the ugly duckling-swan transformation. In the beginning of the movie Tula's waitressing in her family's restaurant when she first lays eyes on Ian. They have the classic awkward encounter. Later in the movie, once Tula goes to school and learns to take better care of herself, they meet again. Ian recognizes her from the restaurant but not for her awkwardness. From then on they fall in love and live happily ever after. 

So what's the link between My Big Fat Greek Wedding and a GAP year? A GAP year is ment to be a transformative year. The person I will be at the end of my GAP year will still be me, but the me who's spent a year seeking the Lord and turning to him for comfort during those lonely and frustrating moments. I'm not going to leave my GAP year a swan, but I'll be one step away from ugly duckling. 

Reflections from a Narcotics-Induced State of Consciousness

It feels so good to be blogging again! Since my last post, I spent three days in the hospital. I'm currently blogging from Pittsburgh. I guess I should start at the beginning...

About a month ago I moved to Ann Arbor and dove head first into my new life. From staff meetings, to office training, to wandering around the Diag hopelessly lost, I was a woman of action. After about a week of this, I woke up in the middle of the night with stomach pains that quickly turned into nausea/vomiting. My roommate thought I had the flu. But I never knew the flu to cause stomach pains without a fever. By the next morning I felt better, so I shrugged the night off as my body's way of adjusting to a new environment.

3 days later I awoke at 6am with the worst stomach pains I've ever experienced. Pain is a very humbling state of being because any pain worth its name suggests that the person in pain has exhausted all means of relieving the pain. I knew I had to go to the hospital. Thankfully I live within a ten minute drive of U of M's hospital and my roommate had a car. After a several hours of pain medication and ultrasounds, the doctor informed me that I had an acorn-sized stone in my galbblader. My galbblader would have to come out within 24 hours.

So here I was an otherwise healthy 22 year old. Laying on a hospital bed 5 hours away from home drifting out of a narcotics-induced state of consciousness. I remember laying in my bed and hearing God say that he wanted to heal me. My first response was great, but couldn't you heal me in a less dramatic manner? I absolutely hate being the center of attention. I know that the speed of news, particularly bad news can travel faster than sound and that people were going to want to talk to and about me. God responded by telling me that me getting sick was not about me. Then I fell asleep. Again.

It was not until a couple days ago that I understood what God said to me. Before I left for Ann Arbor, my mom and I fought about me leaving. She did not understand why I needed to go live 5 hours away and work for free for a year. I tried to explain to her the benefits of living in the community there, but my arguments fell upon deaf ears. When I got sick Mom hopped in the car and drove to Ann Arbor. She was blown away by the kindness every in Ann Arbor extended to a girl they'd known for less than a month. Their care of me during my illness explained community life to them in a way my intellectual arguments failed to do.

I'm going to be heading back to Ann Arbor this weekend. When Mom drops me off this time she'll be able to drive back to Pittsburgh knowing that she can turn off her mom radar for the next little while because there is a whole community of people in Ann Arbor willing to sit in the emergency room with her baby girl.

Slap on a life jacket. Grab a Water Bottle. Climb in. Say a Prayer.

When I was a senior in high school, my sociology teacher spent a week lecturing us on Culture Shock. I clearly remember the way his cheeks turned a faint shade of purple as he proclaimed "you are going to wake up one morning several months from now, after Mommy and Daddy drop you off at your chosen institution of higher education, and experience the phenomenon known as CULTURE SHOCK and what are you going to do? DEAL WITH IT."

I dealt with his proselytism by wiping his spit off my nose. Deal with it? Is this guy insane? Success doesn't come to those who deal with things, but to those who organize their lives well enough to avoid dealing with things. So I decided to outsmart the demon CULTURE SHOCK by enrolling at a university located less than 30 minutes from my parent's house.

Five years and a university education taught me that the only way to outsmart Culture Shock was to face it head on. So I packed up my storage bins, hugged my hometown goodbye, and journeyed to Ann Arbor, Michigan. Again, I thought I could outsmart culture shock by experiencing a mild form of it? Right? Wrong.

Before I become too distracted by my analysis I just wanted to say that I truly do love it here. I love that I am living on my own five hours away from my childhood home. I love that everything I need I can walk to from my apartment. I love that the people I've met here treasure learning and engaging with complicated ideas. I love that the city turns Mauze and Blue on Saturday football days...

But with the excitement of a new city comes the uncomfortable feeling of being a spy in enemy territory. I'm convinced that privacy is the child of routine. As the newly adopted family member, you lack the shared experiences that solidify random people into a cohesive whole.  While you experience the best acts of generosity, compassion, and love your new family has to offer, you live your life in a fishbowl.  As everyone tries you on for size, you don't know how to negotiate your newly allotted space.

In my short time in this beautiful city I am learning that culture shock goes deeper than differences in language, art, philosophy, or food. It is entirely possible for two people to speak the same language without understanding each other. I am also learning that my teacher was right. The best way to deal with culture shock is to deal with it.

The best way I've found to deal with it? I'll use learning how to canoe as a metaphor. Grab a friend who's never canoed either. Slap on a life jacket. Grab a water bottle. Climb in. Say a prayer. Hopefully you will both arrive at the loading dock at a reasonable hour. Albeit a little bruised and a little bit wet.

Sandwich Making: INFJ Style

Are you familiar with the Myers Brigg Personality test? If you're not, take the quiz here http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/jtypes2.asp first or the rest of this blog will make little sense.

I first discovered MB at the beginning of my sophomore year in college as I struggled to answer the infamous "who am I" question. A lot of my friends had a love-hate relationship with Myers Briggs because they received different results every time they took the test. Not so for me. I always have been, and very likely always will be an Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging person.

So what exactly is an INFJ? Great question. My dominant function is introverted intuition, meaning I spend a large part of my day inside my head. Since I orient myself internally, I am often oblivious to the external world.  I tend to make decisions emotionally, and weigh how my actions will affect others before moving forward. In the last part of my personality, my judging side, the universe decided to throw me a curve-ball. Introversion, intuition, and feeling tend to be very time-consuming states of being. Yet because I'm a J I loathe being late for anything. I'm still trying to figure out if being a time-conscious creative individual is a blessing or a curse.

The above description may have made little sense to you if you are a sensing person so I'll insert an example: sandwich making, INFJ style. With sandwiches I like variety, but I like to draw that variety from three or four options. There's also an emotional component to sandwich-making. Ham-and cheese on wheat means I am at peace with my internal world. Peanut butter and jelly on white means I'm stressed out and need someone to listen to me vent. Putting together a sandwich can tire me because I must remember where in the Kitchen we store the different parts of a sandwich as well as where to return them when I'm done.

Once I've composed said sandwich I need to take it and leave the kitchen as fast as possible in order to re-charge. I often leave behind crumbs, and/or jelly smeared knives. I'm not being lazy. I do not do this to test the patience of the next person who wants to make a sandwich. For me, as long as the bread and peanut butter are back in the cubbard I've acted in kindness towards my neater room mates. Having lived with neat room mates I know that crumbs are their version of nails on a chalkboard. Please be patient with me. I'm learning.

INFJ's often get confused with extroverts because we love people. And we do love people. There's nothing like a meaningful one-on-one conversation to give me warm and fuzzy feelings.We tend to be great listeners so we're never lacking for people to talk to.  But anything more than one or two people forces me to expend more energy than I receive. Group settings exhaust me because I bring to them the intensity that I bring to one-on one conversations. But since we love people so much we tend to deny our introverted tendencies in group settings, drain ourselves of all energy, then have to spend a week in our pajamas oscillating between sleeping and reading Victorian literature.

For everyone reading this blog because they're looking for better ways to communicate with an INFJ I'd say resist the urge to patronize when reminding us of a detail we've overlooked for the hundredth time. We also like to be affirmed in our actions because can see ourselves as weird because we've spent too much time analyzing our actions and not enough time externalizing them. It's also helpful to ask "What are you trying to say?" We won't be offended. We're often just as clueless as you are :)