somewhere between Waco Dr. and IH35

I’ll be blunt. I did not want to spend three years in Waco. As with many things in my life I saw my time at seminary as a stepping stone to get to the next goal. In my case, overseas somewhere sharing the Gospel and helping meet local needs whatever those might be. I trace this negativity back to an A&M vs. Baylor football game with an Old Ag…apparently there is some DEEP rivalry here…mostly one sided from the best I can tell…but let’s just say it mirrors our attitude toward “T.U.” and just like most longhorns don’t really give much thought to Aggies…neither do we toward Baylor, but they certainly think about us. [I feel it is important to point out here that we won that game. And although I myself did not purchase a “Sucks to B.U.” t-shirt…I still smirk every time I see one as it hits that soft spot in my heart for clever digs.]

But I digress. This Old Ag gave me a forewarning of some, shall we say, persecution as I arrived in Waco at the end of last summer. Every swipe of my A&M debit card tied to every sidelong glance at my Aggie Ring deeper ingrained my distaste for this place God called and provided for me to be for three years. Add to that the illogical city planning that when coupled with my ever deteriorating sense of direction left me lost in corners of the city I’m not sure anyone else has traipsed. Then I found out 3 years isn’t even a realistic amount of time to finish my MDiv…it is going to be more like 4.

One day when complaining about the weather (as I write this I wonder how anyone puts up with me at all with all of this complaining and negativity) my roommate said that she has a hard time complaining about the weather because God created it and for some reason allows it to be whatever it is.

So with this God-centered attitude ringing in my ears (which at the time I was probably annoyed about, let’s be real) I set back out to school or to try to find the grocery store or something. As I reached the crest of the hill on Valley Mills between Waco Drive and IH35 I was suddenly overwhelmed with the truth that God created Waco. God created the people that call it home. God provided in incredible ways to give me the opportunity to know God better in this place at this time. God loves Waco and I should too.

I’ve found lately that God likes to introduce a big idea to me and then let it marinate for a bit as little, daily things transform that idea into a belief and eventually into a lifestyle. Today as I drove through Austin past all of the places and things I have loved my whole life I realized that I love Waco. And it’s hard to articulate why. I just do. I love my school, which to be honest I still just think of as Truett and not Baylor…but maybe that will change one day. I love my church; I love the genuine community, the honesty, the desire to serve God purely and cut out things that hinder that pursuit. I love my friends and their stories and how God has intertwined them into mine. I love the farmers’ market. I love the old buildings downtown, and the ducks that refuse to eat the stale bread or over-salted WingStop fries that I throw at them. I love my jobs; I love getting to be a part of something bigger than myself at Waco Habitat and that God allows me to use my talents and passions there, I love that I get to research the topic of missions even when I’m not in any missions classes. This process of loving Waco has helped me love God deeper, or maybe loving God deeper has helped me love Waco. I don’t know, maybe it is both.

This time is not a stepping stone. There is no goal other than learning to love God deeper every day as I learn how to love the things God loves and has placed me amongst here and now.

james and the tiny peach

I know next to nothing about gardening. I avoided the activity like the plague until very recently; to me there was nothing more unappealing than dirty, dusty hands, sneezing, and sweat.

As I’ve grown I guess I’ve realized I’m more like my parents than I thought. Our shared interests not only encompass gardening now, I also enjoy antiquing. Sometimes I am shocked by my own growth and progression into things that I once so adamantly rejected.

My parents are incredible servants and full of knowledge and wisdom. This is actually something I have always known, unlike a lot of teenagers/adolescents/young adults, but as I grow older I see this truth in ever increasing richness and through a diversity of examples.

This weekend they once again gave up their free time to come up to Waco and work on my (their) house. We painted my room, fixed (paid a professional to fix) electrical issues, and my dad tended to the mass chaos surrounding our peach trees. As I stood bracing a particularly unruly tree branch so he could stake it and help it bear the load of this years’ potential harvest; I began to learn.

I learn by doing. My study guides are full of flow charts, outlines, and pictures that help me visualize the processes and facts I am trying to commit to memory and ingrain in my being. As I stood there with tired arms I began to ask my dad questions about how to care for these trees so that I might have the chance to harvest some good, edible fruit. He demonstrated that I would need to prune the extra growth. The idea of pruning has always been a perplexing one for me. Why would you cut off something that is growing and thriving? Why would you sever and remove what has made significant progress at being a part of this plant?

To these unspoken thoughts my dad responded with the teaching that you have to cut off the excess so that the energy can reach the fruit. We must cut off the things that may be good and pretty, or sometimes gnarled and ugly, because ultimately they are unhelpful and are choking potential life…life that can be used to encourage nourishment and growth beyond the tree itself.

But that hurts. I don’t know if plants feel. They can’t tell us, but I liken the raw wound on the tree with its exposed sap to some of our wounds, both literal and emotional. They sting. We trust that they will heal, even amidst fear that they won’t. We know it won’t look quite the same in that spot. Nothing may ever grow there again.

My arms are legitimately fatigued at this point. But I am learning. I’m getting more comfortable with this idea of pruning. Then, my dad instructed me to pull off some of the fruit if I find it is growing in clusters. It isn’t just the extraneous growth that we must be wary of…but some of the fruit itself. So I followed his instruction and removed a cluster of baby peaches and tossed them in the compost pile. Sometimes we follow instruction even when we question its validity.

Upon further reflection I see now that the point is the same. If these three baby peaches are competing for energy none of them will be able to grow to their fullest potential. So we remove two, and pray that the third isn’t eaten by a squirrel before we get to taste the product of our pruning.

There are a lot of applications here. Gardening themes are used throughout the Bible and I am enjoying this time of tactile discovery as biblical truths are brought to life in my own backyard. Much like my peach tree, there are things in my life that are extraneous. For me I would say worry falls most often in this category. God is pruning that from me.

For me, the clusters of peaches that are now rotting in my compost pile are the most intriguing. They represent my life when I am spread too thin; when I am reaching for breadth of impact instead of depth. When I am dreaming of far off places and future impact instead of appreciating the opportunity I have to root deeply here in Waco now. At times I am called to be obedient and remove, or accept the removal of, these things from my focus and life even when I don’t understand why.

What I find to be the most beautiful part of this whole process is that even those peaches that are rotting in my compost pile serve a purpose. They will become food for a whole new crop of potential produce that will inhabit my yard this fall.

Just because our fruit doesn’t end up the way we anticipate, with its juice dripping down our chins, doesn’t mean it is unimportant. It still matters. It is a part of the bigger story.

 

 

 *after my Dad read this post he amended his statement that two of the three peaches in the cluster should go…perhaps taking only one away is sufficient. I guess it all depends on the circumstances and what we discern as the best choice at the time.

"You don't do well with the unknown..."

Thursday morning at 10:30 I had to be brave. Turns out, I am not very good at being brave. I like being prepared. I like knowing what I am walking into and having multiple plans for how to respond if faced with varying situations. Being brave to me means facing a situation with confidence and conviction with no worry for what the outcome might be.

For all intents and purposes I was prepared. I had poured hours, months even, into what I was about to walk into and do. But Wednesday night at 9:00 I found myself hyperventilating on my back porch coping, or not coping, with the fact that absolutely anything could happen the next morning. It would all come down to me drawing a question out of a bag; a question that I would hopefully know well enough to talk about for twenty minutes. It could be one of twenty options…covering a range of anything found in the first half of the Old Testament.

So maybe I’m being a little bit dramatic about a final exam. Then again, maybe I’m not. Maybe God used this anxiety and fear and ultimate success on my test to show me that given preparation and faith things would turn out alright. There are so many people around me that love me regardless of my definition of success for myself. As I leaned on the railing of my back porch feeling hopelessly ill-prepared the only thing I could do was listen to my mom when she said, “go to bed, you do better with things in the morning”. So I did. Once again this week I let go of my study plan and clinging to control and doing things on my own terms.

Thursday morning I still didn’t feel prepared. My sweet roommate left a written prayer stuck to my Keurig for me to read first thing. “…Lord, remind Liz that her worth is in you…”

So my test turned out alright, I probably made a good grade, but in the hours leading up to the exam I came to some freeing realizations, and looking back I realize that I was successful, regardless of the grade. I learned an incredible amount about the Bible this semester. I experienced God in a more personal way than ever before. I prayed that God would teach me how to pray and an exciting journey began as God is doing just that. I learned that God has placed incredible people in my life to help shape and form me, but ultimately it is God I must lean on. God is faithful. God is loving. God  is merciful. God is full of grace. These are things I experienced personally this semester, and no grade can reflect, justify or diminish that.

So, it turns out I don’t do well with the unknown…but thankfully I have people in my life that love me enough to call me out on that and be supportive even when I can barely breathe. I have a God that cares for me, teaches me, and disciples me in ways that are beyond my expectations and understanding.

All things considered this semester was wildly successful…and challenging…but through it all I am encouraged and filled with the peace of knowing that God will carry me through many more unknowns.

Wherever you are...

“Wherever you are, be all there” –Jim Elliot

This quote has been on repeat in my mind and life since I stumbled upon it while writing a paper about Elisabeth Elliot last semester. Various truths ring from it depending on the day. Today the Lord used a friend to speak this wisdom to me once again.

This semester the Lord is teaching me to rest. I am currently taking one of the hardest courses I may ever take. Amidst the study plans and overflowing syllabus over and over the Lord keeps urging me to put down my books and to wander around outside. Or lie on my floor and think. Or have that extra-long conversation with whoever just happened to cross my path.

I am a planner. Making lists, determining the most efficient route to accomplish errands, scheduling my day so I can fit in maximum activities…these are all things that fill my mind and notepads. Yet, somehow, when I toss these things aside (which lately is more often than not) everything still gets done…and more. There is a richness to living a day at a time, even a moment at a time. A peace in truly being ALL THERE…wherever that may be.

I am a planner and I count it as a gift, but sometimes our gifts become our vices. My planning allows me to be efficient; to accomplish many tasks and keep a step ahead. But when I allow my planning to extend beyond the day I have been given I find I am clinging more to control than faith. When I catch myself playing out scenarios of future situations I have to stop and realize the futility. I realize there are things I am missing around me right now. I am wasting time.

So today I wandered around campus for an extra twenty minutes just because it was so pretty. I took a study break earlier than planned and ran into a friend. Through our conversation he spoke to me words I needed to hear. For months I have been toying with the idea of blogging. It is an intimidating thing. Putting thoughts out there in a world where they can fly around the internet and out of my control in seconds. I know the power of words because of my personal formation that has come from other people’s musings. It’s a lot of pressure. But when Emmanuel said, unprompted and out of nowhere, “you should blog”…I felt I had to listen.

I was planning to study all day…but I’m thankful I traded some of that time to wander and just be.