pass the plate

One way to mark our time in India is through meals.

There were slow mornings that ended with stomachs full of milky, sugary coffee and buttered toast. There were lunches where our sweaty bodies filed off buses and into local restaurants. There were dinners around long tables, or seated on floors, with no time frame and deep, good conversation. There were hours of chai time and snacks.

One of the first things we learned was to eat with our hands. Abbi, one of our tour guides, described it this way: Indians like to experience life with all of their senses.

To see. To smell. To hear. To taste. To touch.

When you eat with your hands you engage a little deeper than you do with a sterile fork and spoon. You get to play as you use your fingers to mix together rice, sauce, and protein. You feel the heat. Turns out our hand makes an excellent spoon if contorted correctly. Think of your four fingers – on your right hand, of course – as a shovel, and your thumb as a broom. Your fingers touch your lips as your tools deliver each bite. Add to that the experience of hot, buttered naan. The swirling and folding of the warm bread through the sauces becomes a sort of dance.

Most of our meals were delivered family style. Little bowls of sauces peppered the table between large bowls of rice and heaping plates of naan. Eating family style is a game of compromise and communion. You must take into account those who don’t eat meat or certain grains when ordering. You must think through which dish might be a favorite and make sure to order enough. You must share. Sometimes someone will take the last bite that you really, really wanted.

But the understanding and grace is this: there will be another meal with these friends as you continue the journey. Next time, orders can be switched up and someone else can be served first.

There was a point in the trip where the western, individualist in me got tired of the communal nature of our meals. I just wanted to order the dish I wanted and not have to share with anyone. Maybe that’s the only child in me as well. I also really wanted to use a fork. Eventually there were times when we did just order for ourselves. But, as the trip went on I found myself seeking out others to split dishes with me again. And my fingers found themselves covered in sauce.

There is something about the discussion and the sharing that solidifies the meal.

We move beyond utilitarian nourishment when we eat this way. We touch the life on our plates and the life sitting next to us with a little more thought and care. 

on the road

We may be lost, but we are seen. We are known. We are loved.

There is something about getting in my car and driving with no GPS. The hills and farms that surround Waco are good places to explore with no agenda or timeframe. I spend some afternoons doing this. There is something comforting about being present in a space when only God knows where I am. 

Getting lost teaches me to pray with expectancy.

India is a great place for this practice.

My sense of direction is lacking. If I should go right, my inclination will always be to go left. In India, and in America, I typically rely on others I trust to lead the way and notice land marks.

Sometimes the people I am with and the people I trust don’t know the way.

We wind through the alleys and streets of Jaipur, India – The Pink City. The alleys are narrow and full of life. Shops open. People bathe. They worship. Cows wander. Motorbikes speed past. I pray. My nose fills with dust from the artisans crafting statues and gods. My nose fills with fragrance as people burn incense and welcome the day with devotion.

People stare as we wander through their street. They stare just as I would if unfamiliar people walked through my yard or took up the space that was usually available for my morning commute. The staring can be unnerving. So I smile at the women and children while doing my best not to make eye contact with the men. I trust that my friend – walking a few paces behind me - is embracing his role and watching out for me.

We have a map but it is too small and doesn’t show our meeting place. We find ourselves in a roundabout that we think should be our final destination. Cars, rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, camels, dogs, food carts, and humans. So much sun. So many noises. So many smells. I’m out of water. My buddy shares. We don’t see the rest of the group and it’s getting close to the time to meet. We climb the stairs of a tall temple and look out over the scene for familiar faces, bags, or clothes. No luck.

As we come down the stairs we ask someone for directions. He doesn’t speak English, but a nearby teenage boy does. He overhears us and says he is going that way too. So, we follow him. As we walk he tells us about the shop where he works and how close it is to where we are going. We reiterate that we must meet our friends. We walk and talk.

I chat with God as we walk and am thankful for this young friend whose presence is an answer to prayer. And then I think…what if he isn’t actually a friend? What if we end up further from where we need to be? But I choose to trust and continue following.

My trust is in my God who sees me and cares for me intimately.

We find our friends; much quicker than if we were alone. We thank our new travelling companion and talk a while longer. Sometimes getting lost allows you to find others and really see them.

Throughout my time in India I was continually struck by how lost I always am. It is easier to overlook my dependence on God’s mercy and provision with GPS, when help is always a cell phone call away, when I speak the same language as everyone around me.

I feel in control and safe within the city limits of Austin, Waco or College Station. I forget that I exist within my Father’s sight and care – and not because of my own effort. India reminds me that there is nothing wrong with using tools, with relying on friends and neighbors, but these people and things are worth thanking God for because they are a form of mercy and provision.

I need to be reminded that I am lost because it gives me space to be grateful that I am also found. I am seen, I am known, I am loved. 

no power

Do you know what you can do in 2014 with no power? Your phone will probably die. You can’t make morning coffee. You put your makeup on in the dark. The meat in your freezer will begin to rot. You can’t dry your hair. Your alarm won’t work. No internet. So what can you do? Be a little more resourceful. Rely on friends who do have power. Get in your car and find somewhere with wifi. 

Inconveniencing? Sure. Another good reminder that I don’t really need or deserve these things? Absolutely.

I’m home from India. I’m sitting at Starbucks because our power went out last night and hasn’t come back on yet.

My friends and I sat in a fair number of coffee shops over the course of 5 weeks. We soaked up free wifi and fueled our caffeine addictions as we took breaks from the Indian heat. This moment doesn’t feel much different.

While last night and this morning was an inconvenience overall my perspective has changed. 

People want to hear about India, and I want to tell them. I want to tell you. But, how do you speak of 5 weeks of your life? How would you sum up your past 5 weeks? So as I look you in the eyes – if I have the privilege – I will share. I will tell you of meaningful moments and people that I love. I will tell you of the way a night in a train station strengthened my faith in God and humanity.

But, I can’t say it all in one sitting. So, I am also going to share here. A little at a time. As I process and piece together life before India, life in India, and life now. I won’t ever be able to say it all. But I want you to know as much as you want and as much as I can give.

Journey with me if you’d like. 

AlphaSmart

In 7^th grade I took a typing class. It was required. Too many 13 year-olds were shoved into a tiny room with tiny keyboards and spent hours each week with paper covering our hands typing books of the Bible as fast as we could. Each week we took a typing test. The fastest and most accurate typist got to use the REAL computer the next week. They got to sit at a full sized desk where they could stretch out their elbows and actually see all of their words as they worked. The rest of us sat with our little AlphaSmart keyboards and only saw three lines of text at a time.

                                                                                              source: google images

I got to sit at the real computer once. One of the girls in our class was from England and she had taken typing lessons for years. She almost always got to use the real computer.

Practice pays off.

This morning I am preparing for a class, Missional Church. It is my task to read everything I can by and about Dietrich Bonhoeffer and speak from his perspective as our class comes together to discuss the church. As I read primary sources and gather quotes I am thankful for those hours in that tiny room as I learned to type quickly without looking at my keyboard. I now move nimbly through the necessary task of quotation and get on with the more pertinent task of considering what these words mean for the essence of the church.

I complained daily about keyboarding class when I was in the midst of it.

This week God is inviting me and guiding me to rest in the unknown.

Right now, I am in a season of preparation. Seminary can be defined as “seed bed”. I like that image a lot…but sometimes it is hard working with seeds. They can be so tiny and nondescript.

Sometimes it is hard being a seed. Sometimes the dirt is dark and cold and you know you are buried in it for a reason but you wish more than anything you could know what that reason is. What will it look like when you finally push up through the surface? What will the fruit be? What seemingly mundane tasks will I look back upon with gratitude? How are these friendships and committees and jobs and prayer and scripture coming together and forming me to be more like Christ? How will I emerge and serve out of my transformation?

In life, as in 7^th grade keyboarding, we often only see a few lines of text at a time. There are moments we sit at the teacher’s desk with words sprawled out in front of us. There are moments when we have a glimpse of what life will be like after the AlphaSmart exile. But those moments are few and far between.

It is only through faith in my graceful, loving God that I have a shot at navigating this time peacefully.

It is through experience that I proclaim that God is faithful and working even when I don’t know how…even when I can’t see all of the text…even when the seeds are not yet a garden.

Rest. Rest in the unknown. 

full of thanks

Today I am thankful.

Thankful that God is beyond my pronouncement that “I am out of grace”[1].

Thankful that despite these past moments/days/weeks/years I am loved just as I am.

Thankful that I am too loved to be left as I am.

Today I am thankful.

Thankful for the sun and the cool weather.

Thankful for tears and laughter and the ability to feel.

Thankful for wise words and friends that are willing to simply be.

Thankful for phone calls, texts, and trees.

Thankful for water and food.

Thankful for God’s provision and even God’s timing.

Today I am thankful…

…and I am finding amidst the chaos that I am thankful for this anchor.

---

[1] Uttered by me yesterday evening when the world and everyone in it - especially me - was dark and irritating. 

I am restless for reconciliation

Definition: Atonement- the reconciliation of God and humankind through the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ; reparation for an offense or injury. [Merriam-Webster]

I am restless for reconciliation; reconciliation in the lives of all humans and for the pangs of all creation; reconciliation for my restless heart and skewed self-worth; reconciliation for broken families; reconciliation for the hurt and hurting church.

“hurting people hurt people”…I don’t know who said this originally, but I know it wasn’t me. However, this phrase has become deeply personal to me over the past months. I have been meditating upon it heavily in the past weeks. We are hurting and, intentionally or not, we hurt.  

“Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective” (James 5:16).

Last week I participated in confession. I knew that I needed to do this for months. I knew who I needed to confess to. I was honest about my past hurting and hurt with a best friend. She has walked closely with me through a time of the deepest suffering and questioning I have experienced…so far…and I trust her. She is an incredible example of faith and trust and deep commitment and relationship with God. Tuesday night I chronicled for her, and for me, ten years of decisions I regret and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I explained, in detail, elements of ten years that I successfully convinced myself I would never have to deal with or return to. Ten years that were drenched in shame, misplaced self-worth, and marked by a grasping for control. I never wanted anyone to know these things. Not in a real way that displayed my brokenness. But now someone does.

There are people who were there with me through these times, so it’s not as if my life has been full of secrets…but I have always been a leader and I masked my choices and hurting to protect my reputation. In high school I led small groups at church and on mission trips. In college I led high school students and freshmen and sophomores; I led our student body and Aggie family. In seminary I am preparing to one day lead in the church and world in some way; even as I lead in it now. In the trenches of these times of my life I struggle to present myself in a way that appears that I have it all together. I am always desperately afraid of what people will do/think when they find out how much I screw everything up. Will they still respect me enough to want me in their life? Will they still respect me enough to allow me to lead?

Lately, I have been all about friendship; real, deep, messy, uncomfortable, life-giving friendship.  I don’t think we have enough of this in our culture- I still don’t have enough of this in my life. There are too many people like me; people who are desperate for others to see them for who they should be, rather than for who they are.

Our world is hurting and therefore we will get hurt; and that makes me want to protect myself. It makes me want to hold my secrets tight so that I can “righteously” convict others…so that we can be viewed as “worthy” of our callings. But when we are honest, first with ourselves and God, we are freed to experience redemption. We are freed to see and experience the power of God’s grace and reconciliation through the Son. We are freed to see that it’s not our place to convict. Over time, as we wrestle with God and with ourselves I believe God graciously brings people into our lives, or allows us to recognize those that are already there, who will love us despite the mess. People we can trust. I want to be that person for others because I am so grateful for those that have been that for me. I pray for that opportunity. What I have found through God answering that prayer is scary. Because, for better or for worse, if I expect people to trust me…I also have to trust them. I have to be willing to share and be hurt and be ready to forgive and to beg for forgiveness. That’s hard. That’s scary. I am not good at it. Some days I question if I really want to be.  

And then I am reminded. I am reminded of what trusting God with my shame has done. It has allowed me to be in relationship with my God in a way that I have yearned for since I was baptized at 9 years old. It has allowed me to have genuine relationships that are both challenging and encouraging. God has allowed me to earnestly pray to see and love others the way Jesus does. I have seen God faithfully answer that prayer as my heart breaks over and over for those hurting. God has provided friendship in unlikely places. God has provided the beginnings of the slow process of rebuilding relationships that I have cast aside for years.

So, I am restless for reconciliation. I am restless for this huge, faith-testing and faith-affirming reconciliation to be experienced personally by all in their deepest selves and their most broken relationships. I am restless for this because I believe deep within me that this is the essence of the life-giving power of the cross. The cross, and the relationship with God that it allows, fills me with love and hope…and I must share.   

Should I?

I should be writing a paper right now. I should be preparing a presentation. I should be reading an ancient text. I should be answering discussion questions. Instead, I am reading through old blogs and prayers. 

Should’s are dangerous. 

I should be over this by now. I should have my future figured out. I should stop procrastinating. I should be a better friend. I should be more independent. I should be deeper in community. 

Should’s make me feel defined by productivity and progress…or lack thereof. Should’s are a list of things I feel I can accomplish by sheer will.

I can’t take credit for this revelation. I keep reading about not succumbing to the should’s. I read about it in blogs. I read about it in assignments relating to my spiritual well-being. I hear it from across the table at lunch with a friend. Yet, inadvertently I started this post with a list of should’s. 

I should probably learn this lesson.

But I can’t. Not on my time anyway. Not by my strength.  

The fact is there is no timeline. The fact is my growth is not by my strength.

Who defines the should anyway? Certainly not me.  Except, that’s not true. It is me...at least partially. I think should’s come from my future self--an idealized, subconscious image of who I could be if I would only do what I should. This future self meets and exceeds everyone’s expectations. This future self impresses God and is worthy of love.

The problem is, on the days that I do actually accomplish a should…there is another one just waiting to taunt me.

But who am I now? 

Who should I be at 24 versus who am I at 24? Unfortunately I don’t have a clear answer for either option. 

The should is elusive and the am is fluid.

I get frustrated when I can’t wrap my fingers or my brain around something. I feel that I can’t claim something that I can’t articulate. If I can’t articulate who I am, should I claim who I am?

So I pray. I ask God who God is and I ask God who I am. And I don’t yet have many clear answers, but it isn't as foggy as it once was. The should’s are starting to fade and the am is beginning to take shape. I am learning to rest and enjoy the ride. I am learning who I am in Christ...slowly but surely. 

Funny how this happens when I finally at least attempt to give up control and productivity and let go of what I think I should be doing. 

And by funny...I mean humbling. 

I wrote should 25 times in this post...how many times did you think/say it today?