my book report for abba's child

so i thought i'd post the book report we had to do for the last book we read. i know, it sounds boring, but what better way to see (or read in this case) how what we learn in kairos applies to life? plus, it very much reflects my current feelings. so here we go:

“I don’t want to be a pie.”
I wish I could write this report by simply putting together a bunch of quotes from Abba’s Child. But alas, I cannot. I found myself marking every other page, swearing to commit it to memory because of the advice it gave. And by advice, I mean that stuff that you’ll never ask for but that which only the closest people to you can read by the plea in your eyes, not those clichés that people think you need to hear to appease the heart-broken-pity-the-worm feeling in your gut. Abba’s Child was an easy read in that diction was sophisticated, the syntax was rhythmic; the overall prose was poetic. But this “easy read” is the stuff that brings me to tears sitting alone in a busy airport terminal on a cold Saturday morning. So excuse my feeble attempt to make sense of it’s direction. I cannot do it justice in relation to it’s impact on me, but c’est la vie.
I was thinking about what I could title this paper, and came to this, a quote from the movie Chicken Run. It’s silly, the things that stick in your head but anytime I don’t want to do something, for whatever reason, this line comes to mind. I got to thinking about it in comparison to Manning’s talk about the Impostor. I guess for forever long (or so it seems), I believed this Impostor was not just a projection, a façade or a cosmetic. It was innermost part of me; my inherent core. I don’t know that I really wanted to believe that; does anyone want to believe they are “bad” deep deep inside? But I couldn’t understand how to believe differently. So I got to thinking that perhaps those moments when war raged inside of me, those were the moments when my heart realized that this wasn’t true—that it wasn’t bad—and before my head could react, my heart tried to separate me from my Impostor. My mind would wail, “NO! Don’t let Me go,” because I was—I am—so afraid that me would be lost. Manning writes about the Impostor that “if he would become silent within and without he would discover himself to be nothing, he would be left with nothing but his own nothingness, and to the false self which claims to be everything, such a discovery would be his undoing” (pg. 43). I supposed my inconsistency comes from my wanting in desire to witness My undoing.
And I never thought I was deserving of an undoing. Why should anyone care enough to loosen me, untie me from the knots I so quickly tangled myself in? The Impostor, charmingly fragrant, led me to believe that I needed no undoing, because I like everyone else was born rotten and therefore had to learn to be good. See, I never thought I was naturally decent; my impropriety came easy and was likewise downsized as intrinsic. Manning explains it like so, “If we gloss over our selfishness and rationalize the evil within us, we can only pretend we are sinners and therefore only pretend we are sinners. A sham spirituality of pseudo-repentance and pseudo-bliss eventually fashions into what modern psychiatry calls a borderline personality, in which appearances make up for reality” (pg. 154). I think to my friends and the life I left in the desert and how we would always claim to be real. We drink and smoke and never pretend to be perfect like all the other Sunday-best-hands-raised-eyes-closed-when-I-sing hypocrites who run the church. But really we were just relativists dressed up in Christian costumes. We took a “you handle yours and I’ll handle mine” stance on repentance and contentment, hoping against our rationalization that perhaps life might turn out better. But it never did because, even in our supposed hypocritlessness, we were acting. We wanted our authenticity to be bona fide, but we were just playing dress up.
It is the most difficult article to put on—the humility of acknowledged selfishness which leads to seizing His forgiveness and falling into repentance. We may have recognized our evil, but it was in the same way I recognize I’m sitting on a chair. For my friends and I, our sin was what it was and that’s where it stopped. But to wholly accept selfish behavior is to likewise accept that there is an alternate righteous behavior. Sitting down with this knowledge is to stand up with the conviction that there still exists today a force which calls us to virtue. See, if God were dead, this statement would be too. But He’s not. We live, or at least we should, in the awareness of the present riseness of Christ. The reason we don’t is because it would take the inconvenience of pulling on that cloak of humility that allows us to say “yes” to our inadequacy and to accept His perfect capacity. Manning says, “This yes is an act of faith, a decisive, wholehearted response to my whole being to the risen Jesus present beside me, before me, around me and within me; a cry in confidence that my faith in Jesus provides security not only in the face of death but in the face of a worse threat posed by my own malice; a word that must not just be said once but repeated over and over again in the ever-changing landscape of life” (pg. 99).
This is not just the “Help me Jesus” I cry out in the middle of the night. It needs to be the “Help me Jesus” that I whisper under my breath in class, that I breathe into my cold hands before reaching for the frozen handle of the car door, that I pray before I bite into a sandwich. It is my admission that I don’t get it and won’t get it but I’ll make it if I linger a little longer by His side. I don’t need to worry about being made into a pie because I’m not a chicken. I am my Abba’s child and like a daughter clings to her dad for warmth on a windy day, I am holding tight to the strong arm of my Father.

hard and cold as earth, baby

IT'S SNOWING! i've never seen this before. it's not thanksgiving yet and there is snow on the ground. CRAZY! okay. moments over. moving on.

man, there is so much to write, i don't even know where to begin. every day i'm learning something new. like, i now know how to crochet beenies. i know, i know... i'm a grandma, but it's a really valuable life lesson. i'm kidding, of course. (about the life lesson part. i really do know how to crochet.)

it's interesting to me that each thing we learn overlaps. it doesn't really fit well in my compartmentalized brain. at school, physics goes in its physics box and english in its english box. but here, spiritual warfare is waged everday, so it is a factor in your relationships and requires constant prayer and knowledge of yourself and your foundations in Christ and the scriptures. that's like the thesis statement of the last weeks. honestly, i've never been good at writing papers for school, so the term "thesis statement" always hinders my ability to compile coherent paragraphs... where am i going with this? i guess the bulk of this paper should be about my foundations and what i've learned about myself. truth be told, it seems like we've spent more time in class figuring out ourselves then we have God, but when you think about it, it makes sense for two reasons. first, if i don't know myself, why would i bother to know the God who created me. that may sound selfish, but most young people i know are so wrapped up in themselves because they are on this journey to "find" themselves. but what do they do when they finally come upon who they are? it seems like the most humble thing to do is figure yourself out so that you can finally forget about you and consentrate on God. and i don't mean this whole time we have lost sight of God; He is actively apart of finding ourselves. i'm sorry. maybe this is confusing. let's continue...

second, it is impossible to understand the unfathomable YHWH, so, since we are created in His image, by learning about myself, His mystery becomes discernable to the confines of my human brain. not that my spiritual gifts or personality traits are a reflection of His capacity, but that they are a glimpse of His magnificence and that He is so so much more than what has been created in me. you still with me? good.

"so what is all "knowing yourself" mumbo-jumbo your talking about here?" well, we took a personality test and a spiritual gift inventory, which were frighteningly accurate and shocking, respectively. first was the personality element profile (pep). it divides personailties into four major elements-earth, wind, fire and water. of these, i am an earth, through and through. pretty much, you can just think about the element and know the traits of its owner. i'm accurate, organized, focused, serious, steady, dedicated, slow moving, structured and conscientious. sound right? ain't gonna lie, it's a little difficult in the dynamic of kairos. i'm the only double earth; shane is also an earth, but he's blended with water, so he's more adaptable and easy-going. most everyone else is some degree of a wind, the element completely opposite to me. they're all flexible and talkative and emotion-driven and sometimes, they just bug me. but that's the point behind this-to figure ourselves out so that we can learn the best ways to interact and work with one another.

then there was the spiritual gift inventory. if you look in romans, paul lists several motivational gifts; this is the list the test is based on. what's great is that we didn't just learn what areas we're gifted in, we also learned what it means to have spiritual gifts and why and how to use them. i am gifted primarily in administration (it goes along with earth, i think), followed by mercy (i know... shocker) and perception. kevin told me that it is a very unlikely combination to have mercy and perception, but that God must like me, because if i didn't have mercy, i'd be a very difficult person to be around. thanks kevin. but i gotta say, i'm excited to know about these gifts. i feel like i have super powers.

but seriously, it's great to understand the reasons behind why i feel and act the way i do. it helps me to see myself through His eyes- as His beloved creation. to know i do things on purpose, not just willy-nilly for no good reason, humbles me. He loves me enough to have made me so intricate. ladies and gents, you may not understand all the little things you do naturally, but all those little nuances you think are ridiculous are His fingerprints on you. that's how much He loves you. and you know what the means? it means He is even more elaborate. and i don't know about you, but i'm excited to exhaust the inexhaustible God.

but then again, i'm an earth. i like detail-oriented things.

peace in His immeasurable love.

the setting

this is probably the most difficult blog to write just because it's the first and there is so much to get through...

it's cold. the warm days here are cold days back in the desert. for the first two weeks, everyone asked me if i was doing alright because of the weather. and i miss mountains. it really took some getting used to looking out on the horizon and seeing for miles and miles. and i don't like trains. there are trains everywhere. i've seen more trains here then cows and corn combined, and that shocks me. and they blow there horns forever at a time, in the middle of the night... i. hate. trains. i've started drinking coffee again. i know, it's sad. but in my defense, when it's 47 degrees outside and you need to sit in the barn for three hours of biblical foundations, you need something. on the upside, i make a pretty mean mocha drink. mmhmm...

oh, the barn- that is our classroom. it's a real barn that has been completely remodeled, so i think it's pretty neat. i assume caleb from wisconsin doesn't share my enthusiasm. but that's also because caleb doesn't get excited about, well, anything. he's an interesting kid. i'm intrigued by him because i've never met anyone so easy-going. but i diverge. the barn is apart of life church, our host church, a church i absolutely love. i have never been excited about a church, and i'm not talking about going to church, but the Church, the people, the pastors, the vision... i'm so excited for everything that going to be happening in the next year here. clint sprague is the senior pastor and he is a lover of people. on sunday he said something i thought was very interesting. he said he doesn't want to reach out to people because he's a pastor, he's a pastor because he wants to reach out to people. and you know not just because he says it but because you can see it in the way he acts. he gets excited to share God's love with people. and everyone here, the people we intern with, the host families, the other pastors, they just love God and each other and love the Church. and the message of life always comes back to God's flawless, endless love. basically, the short version of all that is i've never felt more at home with a church. i actually prefer to spend more time at the barn then at my host home, probably because most of my days are spent there anyway so it feels more like a second home than a classroom.

the days here seem to stream together. it's takes some times to remember that i've only been here a month. routine has been formed, which i like. i've already read two books and turned in three papers, done a six-page personal study of luke (which doesn't really sound like a big deal, but i've never done an in-depth study of specific books in the Bible). right now, i'm (supposed to be) reading andrew murray's humility and doing a study of romans. i intern in media, so i work under the worship director, jared sholtz (who is crazy talented... crazy and talented) and sean, who did kairos last year, making video announcements and such.

so far it's been good. that's not to say there hasn't been awkwardness and discomfort and struggle and frustration, but i'm starting to wonder if those things aren’t necessarily good or bad. they are what they are. the consequences of a state of being make it good or bad, and because i have chosen to have faith in the hope that this will ultimately be good, i can withstand the pain. it's like running. which i've also started doing, down by lake olathe (just gorgeous at sunset, with the light weaving through the trees), which i should go do, because i haven't since it's been so cold this week and it happens to be a really nice day (51 degrees). but once i get my under armor, it's on. (and, in light of this last weeks teaching on spiritual warfare, that statement has a double-meaning.)

in His great love,

sara p.

introduction to the play

list of characters:
big dogs:
kevin- director of kairos
erika- my small group leader
kaymi- intern; also my small group leader
kaleb- guys small group leader
jessica- other ladies small group leader
pups:
shane
hope
hannah
brooke
kelsey g.
kelsey d.
lexey
zach
dustin
jack
crystal
janae
caleb
(don't worry, i don't expect you to remember them all.)
speakers:
jared sholtz- worship
steve seizemore- personal foundation, humilty, grace
dean sherman- relationships, spiritual warfare
ollie olsen- anything you want to know about the Bible, he's got the answer... no joke.

prologue:
everytime i get on the interent from my computer, i'm met with a google homepage, on which i have quotes for the day. today there was one from robert frost, "in three words i can sum up everything i've learned about life: it goes on." the quote speaks to me in a way i don't understand. it applies to how i feel, but i don't know why.

i could give you a lot of background from the last three weeks; tell you about all the speakers, what i've learned so far, the friends i've made, the places i've been to (which are few... i mean, this is kansas), but i won't. at least not know. trust me, you'll get plenty of it. and i'm excited to share it. but right now... right now, it's acknowledging that things are different but not really, i get it but i don't, my head knows but my heart is lacking.

but it goes on. as it should.

part 1: letter from debriefing

this is the moment you have stressed about for the last three months- the moment you enter the unknown, a moment the will last for at least three weeks. your family, your friends have been gathering for weeks, patting you and the back, trying their mightiest to reassure you that "you'll do great." you think, maybe they're right. maybe i will do great. i'm ready. i have my ten pairs of underwear, my two rolls of toilet paper, my hand sanitizer... yep, we're good to go.

then you arrive an hour late, find two people you've never met before in baggage claim (or maybe they find you first), get lost, spend a restless night on the floor in a room shared by 30+ female strangers. when the sun arrives, so does a new face ready to tear apart your two perfectly packed boxes and to rapidly repack (a.k.a. vigorously shove) their contents into an immense blue bag and get you registered before the hot water for oatmeal runs dry. you then have the privilege of riding in a school bus for four hours to "destination n/a" as the humidity seeps through the plastic seats to wearing on you like a winter coat.

and just when you begin to think, why couldn't the plane have crashed? you hear it. the soft roar of voices unmet. you see pants being flown proudly on their broomstick and you are told, "we believe in you more than you believe in yourself"; you swallow your fear with your stale gum... welcome to training camp. and though you don't realize it (not in a brainwashing sense, but in a stubborn pride sense), this is the start of a slow reformation.

so i sit here, listening to the wind and rain rage outside in tiny Pinner, England, and look back through five weeks of hammering and stripping away every peice of anything i once considered rational and comprehend only a fragment of the transformation that has begun, or perhaps it's that i'm hoping i only understand a part of what has happened, because i fear that knowing completely would mean losing the desire to continue searching. it has taken twenty years to get here... i would be satisfied if it took another twenty to finish.

this process is slow and tedious, but something beautiful has begun.

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." romans 5:3-5

i am...

wow. there are few words that can explain everything that has happened in the last few weeks. really in my mind, it's a whirl-wind and i have a difficult time remembering what i ate for breakfast. okay not really becasue it was malto, which we eat every morning. training camp quite possibly was the best experience of my life. the senoir staff ladies, Mary and Katie, are two of the most amazing women i have every met. those first two weeks would have been impossible to get through without them. and now in ireland, well... it's ireland. freezing, damp, exciting and new. it's interesting to look out the window and to know your in a different place, to recognize the buildings and the streets and even the people, yet know everything is different. it looks much like america (belfast reminds me of san fransisco), but greener and with squished buildings. we've started some ministry today, but it was cut short due to rain. you can sense God here; in the church, in the promanade, in the town square. it makes my stomach churn and keeps me nervous but in the best sense. i miss you all and aubrey, ruth says hello. she loves you and misses you and i think she's amazing.

ps. booddle ain't that bad.

much much love.
sara.

bread and butta

i obviously stink at keeping up with writing and such, considering i've only writen three of these things... anyway...

so i leave in ten days. TEN DAYS! and i've told both places i work that there are about seven days left in me for them and everyone wants to know, am i excited. and it's sad (to me) that i honestly haven't taken the time to feel anything about what is going to happen when i broad that plane by myself and head to chicago to meet four girls i will be leading around a foreign country. this is a load of firsts for me. and whenever i take time (in the midst of applying for college and working 13 hour days) to think about ireland, i don't feel excitement. i feel confusion and fear and sometimes nothing at all simply because i don't know how to feel about it. and those sound like terrible things to feel as i enter into this experience, but i shoot for the truth. my mind tells me about trust and joy and how God hasn't failed me yet and anyway, it's not about you, it's about what He is going to do through you to show His perfect love and grace, so don't stress. but i daily struggle with my failures; the shame of my mistakes still sits before me like an open trench. i stare over the edge and all i see is death. it's like the scene in indiana jones and holy grail, where indie needs faith to walk the invisible bridge. and you would think that i could convince myself of His faithfulness, since He has proven it time and time again, not to mention this isn't death, it's a mission trip. but i see my words failing and a new crevasse forming; i see me forgetting something and rocks slipping.

so i guess this is a final reminder to myself that this is not about me, because most likely what i just mentioned will happen, but another thing that will happen is that lives will change, even by failing words and things forgotten. and maybe it'll be the irish and maybe it'll be my team... probably both. but any way you slice it, He is the bread of life, having already been broken, just asking to be passed around.