windsurfing

For a few years my parents and I made trips to different resort areas in Mexico. We spent a week at a time on the beach eating too much food, reading, drinking pina coladas and applying sunscreen. One summer my best friend Sophie got to go with us. That summer she and I learned to windsurf.

That was the only time I’ve windsurfed, but I’ve been reflecting on the experience this week.

Before you get in the water you have to spend some time on the beach. Windsurf boards are cumbersome. Their sails are heavy. Thankfully I was an athletic kid and had decent upper body strength from years of swinging a bat.

There I was standing on the beach. I stepped up onto my board. I leaned down and grabbed the rope between my feet and began lifting, hand over hand, until the sail was upright. Finally, I grabbed the handle parallel to the board.

Then I let go of the rope, the sail fell to the ground, and I started the process over again. And again.

Each time my feet moved from the sand to the fiberglass the instructor reminded me to find my balance - to aim for the center of the board and give myself a second to get planted before lifting.

Out into the surf.

I was waist deep in waves. The water was clear and I could see my toes. The board was in front of me. It was no longer just a step from the sand to a flat, stable surface. Now, I planted by hands like I would on the edge of a pool and pushed up. The board rocked from my momentum and the pressure of the waves. As smoothly as possible I threw my knees to the spot where I had practiced putting my feet when I was still on the shore. I missed. Waist deep in waves. Hands on the edge. Swift push, kneeling, then – drenched. Rinse and repeat. Eventually, I got it. Kneeling on the board I slowly got my feet under me. Crouched like a catcher I inched to a space of balance. Slowly, I stood. And waited. Every muscle in my body engaged trying to keep myself upright.

The trick is to not wait too long. The waves will take you down before you even touch the sail.

There’s all sorts of technique to lifting your sail when you’re out in the waves and wind. My two afternoons of windsurfing when I was thirteen leave me unqualified to advise you. All I can say for now is this: you don’t want your sail to catch the wind before you have the handle.

And also, it takes a lot of balance to stay on that board while pulling up a sail-full of water by a rope.

But.

If you can do it, and you catch the wind just right…it’s pretty cool.

You can’t control the waves, but you can learn their rhythm.

You can’t control the wind, but you can angle your sail to catch it.

Last Sunday at UBC Josh preached on the beauty of work as it was originally intended. This week I’ve been thinking about how we are invited, through our work, to co-create as we walk with Christ. Like my experience with windsurfing, I’ve only just skimmed the surface in my reflection and engagement with this way of life.

But I’ve had those moments when my knees and ankles knew just when to bend to absorb the shock of the wave and the wind caught the sail just right and I glided forward to spaces I couldn’t map or anticipate.

For me it can happen when writing a paper and the words come in ways I didn’t know they could. Or when I’m doing the dishes and a wave of unexpected understanding washes over me. Or when I jump in the car and arrive to be present in a moment of a friend’s pain with timing that is beyond me.

There is preparation and learning prior to these moments. There are deliberate choices. There are uncontrollable elements. We can totally miss all of it if we are wrapped up in the past or future – our thoughts swirling with worry.

But.

If we commit to seeking presence and we take note of the nudging of the wind and the rhythm of the waves,

there are moments that we sail. 

turkey day

Five weeks in India taught me presence. I’m thankful. Counseling taught me to breathe deeply. I’m thankful. My friends let me be myself. I’m thankful.

Seminary and multiple jobs can be an overload. You’ve read that here before, right? I Sabbath each week…but that’s a learning process and what I need in addition to Sabbath is a more frequent use of the words “no” and “I quit”. I’m thankful for the hours and hours and days and days of rest God granted me this summer in Waco. Rested is not something I have felt since then…at least not that I can remember.

What I have felt is present, thankful, and able to breathe.

Monday I went on a road trip. Brownwood, Texas. Home of Underwoods – hot rolls and cobbler. Also home of Howard Payne University which is where I actually spent the day. My good friend Katy and I drove, caught up on life deeply, recruited for Truett, sang songs, met new people, and just had an all around pleasant day.

I like west-ish Texas…it reminds me of family reunions and long car trips to and from Austin.

Monday night I attended a weekly ritual of homemade food and story sharing. We celebrated together over the story of the engagement between two of our friends and heard the highlights of a lifetime from another.

I’m thankful for Monday. I’m thankful for these relationships that deepen each day and week. I’m thankful for the opportunity to sit and hear how God is forming my friends and the ways they are forming others out of their love for God.

I need to say “no” more often.  But, sometimes I confuse what I should be saying no to.

I almost said no to Monday. No to the trip. No to dinner. No to story time. Papers and tests felt more pressing. More important. But they aren’t.

I’m thankful for these moments together with the friends I love because things are about to change. I suppose things are always about to change, but it feels more pressing right now.

God has overwhelmed me this week. I am overwhelmed with love and thankfulness that even if just for a season, this is my life. 

devil's snare

“God, I don’t trust you.”

That prayer banged around my head as I fell asleep Monday night. It bubbled up out of my heart. It was an honest confession I discovered through my attitude and actions over the preceding days.

It was a truth I didn’t want to hear. It was a truth that hurt to confess.

God asked me to wait for a couple of things. He promised it would be ok. It will work out. I just need to wait and be faithful to whatever he asks during this time.

But to be honest, my plans make more sense to me. My plans end with my pride intact. My plans come to fruition much quicker than God’s. My plans are under my control…and I like that. Control comforts me.

As Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone nears its climax Ron, Harry, and Hermione free fall into a black hole. Harry jumps first. The landing is soft. He calls the other two to follow. Ron jumps next. He and Harry banter about how lucky it is that someone provided a plant to break their fall. By the time Hermione lands next to them the tendrils of Devil’s Snare are securely wrapped around their legs. They don’t even notice until Hermione points their situation out as she herself struggles to safety. She racks her brain to remember anything she can about this plant. It likes the cold and the damp. Harry suggests fire to drive it away.

My anger was a soft place to land. It felt good to be mad at situations. It felt good to vent about things hurting me. It felt good to hear friends comfort me and validate my hurt.

I’m slowly learning to fight. I don’t have siblings, and my house growing up was pretty peaceful. I’ve never been a yeller. I feel deeply, but I struggle to name what I am feeling. Intense emotion scares me because I don’t really know what to do with it. It makes me feel out of control. For years I used the word “frustrated” to skirt around the fact that I was actually mad, or hurt, in a situation. I am learning to be more honest about how I feel. I am learning to do the hard work of discerning what I am feeling and why. I often find fear.

Part of this journey includes how I interact with God. Am I allowed to be mad at God? It seems like I should be grateful and respectful to God…not angry. What happens when I am angry with God? What happens when I am confused and hurting and God’s plan and timing are the reasons?

I think it’s ok to be honest with God about my feelings…even when they are negative.

I was upset with my roommate the other day. She hurt my feelings by scheduling something over part of some plans we made. I am generally annoyed when people don’t follow through on their commitments… if I had my way everyone would fall in line with my plans all the time… but that wasn’t the real issue. The real issue was that I was looking forward to these plans and our time together is short before she graduates. It took me a while to articulate to myself what the real issue was.

My brooding over this situation was a soft place to land. It felt good to be pissy and self-righteous. But I could feel God tugging at me. Asking me why I was really upset. Inviting me to light a fire and purge my pride.

She knew I was upset. Eventually we talked things out. I expressed how I was feeling…and why. She explained the choice she made and how she was feeling too. Nothing tangible changed after our talk. She kept her new plans and I respect that. Her choice was prayerful and I trust that it was the right one. 

I walked away from the conversation thankful that our friendship is such that we can be honest and understand one another just a little bit more in the process – I think she would say the same.

My anger with God, my pain in this time of waiting, is sometimes a soft place to land. It’s counterintuitive – I know that. But, at least being angry is active. It feels like I’m accomplishing something. That if I shout loud enough something will happen. I can sit and stew in this situation because it is a complaint I know well. It is one I cry out again and again. Somewhere along the way it became comfortable.

Like a two year old in the grocery store gripping a sugary cereal there comes a point when all I’m really doing is making a scene. I’m drawing attention away from the goodness of my Father who knows what is best and is present as I wait.

At some point I have to name the issue… “I don’t trust you”…and seek peace, even though it’s hard. I need to be honest with God. I need time to cry and process. But, I must also remember that soft place to land will eventually become toxic. I need that fire to shine light on the reality of the situation.

“I don’t trust you” wasn’t the last phrase on my mind before I fell asleep that night.

My final prayer was one of surrender…

God, I confess that I don’t trust you… my actions and anger show that. I want to trust you though. Please help me, I cannot make this happen on my own.

I was still pretty pissy on Tuesday. Just because I said those words the night before doesn’t mean that I was ready to really change anything. I hit snooze multiple times. I debated not going to school at all. I didn’t prepare for class and I was fairly annoyed with anyone who interacted with me.

By 2:20pm I was convicted. Somewhere amidst sermon illustrations and a prayer of thanksgiving for our very breath I realized that the way I was choosing to act is sin. God offered me the fire I needed – in a way only He can. God was present with me. But I was choosing to ignore the way out and sit on the plant that I knew would eventually strangle me.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had a lot left to accomplish after they escaped the Devil’s Snare. None of it was easy, it took sacrifice and community and they had to learn many lessons over and over before they were done.

None of those things could happen until they named their soft landing for what it was and moved forward out of its clutches. 

depleted and filled

I wrote this last Monday...and didn't hit post...excuse the dated language. 

I reached this weekend depleted and scattered. The week was much less stressful than the previous two, but my focus was in a million places. I forgot to bring many moments and worries before God.

I watched a lot of movies and shows this weekend. There is beauty in art. I believe that God is over all the earth and that truth can be present anywhere – though it is not present everywhere. I find a lot of truth in Mumford and Sons lyrics. When I went to their show last summer my friend commented that I looked like I was at a worship service. In a way I was. Not worshiping them, of course, but reflecting on the way their words gave voice to my pain and hope as I sang along.

The two movies I watched this weekend – “A River Runs Through It”, and “One Day” – were beautifully made and convey themes of redemption, hope, and love. They tell stories of the human experience. They made me sad.

This past week I was privileged to attend some of the sessions of the Hunger Summit put on by Texas Hunger Initiative on Baylor’s campus. The last session I attended was a discussion on payday and title loans. This industry makes me mad. It preys on those in poverty and offers opportunity for cycles of debt that are crushing. It is a huge problem. There are people around the state and nation confronting this issue creatively and with great passion. They are empowering others to do the same.

Yesterday after church I went to a Q&A session with the founder of Jesus Said Love. I am so encouraged by the genuine love and faithfulness this team exudes as they show the love of Christ - with no strings attached - to women who dance in clubs around Texas. The sex industry is a visible expression of oppression and I learned yesterday that these women are touched by every metric of poverty. It is systemic. It is pervasive.

The world can be overwhelming and full of suffering. But God is present. It’s a weird tension. It raises all sorts of questions about evil and brokenness and love and hope. I know that God is good. I know that God is love. I know that one day this will all be made right and there won’t be any more suffering. Even now, the redemptive work of Christ’s life, death and resurrection is evident through the work of the folks at Jesus Said Love, those working to eradicate predatory lending, and so many more.  I am thankful for these glimpses of tangible hope and God’s work in the world.

I am the type that likes to do things. I like to meet issues head on and solve them. These systemic, cyclical issues are not something I can solve. It isn’t my job. I can’t do everything. But I can do something.

As my Sabbath wrapped up yesterday afternoon I made a commitment to pray this week. Last week showed me how quickly I forget to come before God when life travels at a normal pace. I had the urge to pray, knew I should be, but I couldn’t find the focus or the words. I asked God to guide me.

Throughout each day this week I am praying for my family, for my friends, for issues surrounding hunger/poverty, for the world, and for discernment about my role in each of these spheres. I am also reading Psalm 119.

We took communion at church yesterday. As I walked to front, ripped off a chunk of bread, dipped it in the juice and ate it, I asked God to fill me. I asked that my life be filled with the death and resurrection of Christ as I went forward into this week. I am not worthy, but I am asking God to teach me to live and to love according to my identity and membership in the Body of Christ. 

An update a week in the making: 

I feel that I did a poor job actually praying for all of the things I wanted to last week. The message at church two days ago was about prayer and abiding. I am thankful for grace as I stumble around and learn what it means to be in conversation with God as I learn to abide. 

no canning

I will never be able to cook what my mom cooks.

I can scour the pantry and fridge and find nothing. She can follow behind me five minutes later and produce a full meal from what she finds. It is always delicious. I am always impressed.

There is a running joke in the Andrasi House: mom isn't allowed to can.

The process of canning requires precise measurement and strict rule following on temperatures, ingredients and timing.

My mom rarely follows a recipe. Her instinct drives the decisions she makes in the kitchen. She is impeccable when it comes to timing all parts of a meal to finish cooking at the right moment. Even when she first  tries a recipe she makes substitutions and adjustments based on what is in the house.

When I call her to ask how to prepare something, her instructions are off the top of her head and usually a ballpark estimate.

Years of experience allow her to move with ease and roll her eyes when I ask if she is sure the meat is cooked enough. Has she ever given me food poisoning? No.

I may never be able to cook exactly what my mom cooks...but I am learning to cook how my mom cooks.

I like that better.

Last night I made salmon, cous cous and broccoli. My favorite meal. I have watched my mom cook it a thousand times. I've helped her cook it a thousand more. I have yet to get it right on my own. Usually I call her right before dinner and run through the process one more time. Last night I skipped the phone call and jumped right in.

The cous cous and broccoli worked out great. I had instruction for those:

http://www.amazon.com/Whats-Cook-Illustrated-Essential-Techniques/dp/1579653189

[I swear by this book. It is the best. You can buy it used for 1 cent. Just do it. I wish someone would pay me to say that] 

There is probably an entry in that book about how to cook salmon. If so, I didn't use it. I threw some seasoning on that I found in my cabinet. If I were at home in Austin there would be plenty of lemon pepper on hand - I'm still perfecting the art of keeping staples in supply.

I poured olive oil in a pan. Too much olive oil. I heated it. Too hot.

I laid the fish scale side down and it immediately began to crisp. I watched the raw pink fade to opaque. The bottom was burning before the top had a chance to cook. I removed it from the fire and covered it with a lid. That actually worked.

In the end the fish was cooked and it was pretty good - though not exactly like my mom's.

I like stepping away from a recipe, away from direct step by step instructions. It gives me a chance to explore and discover new ways to do things. I know some basic guardrails: if the fish is raw you can see through it, if it smells like burning you should get it off the heat, a lid transforms your skillet into a sort of oven.

I like having an end goal in mind and playing with different ways to get there. It's a little more fun, and I feel a little more accomplished when dinnertime finally rolls around. My timing and process get better with each practice round and perfection isn't reality.

No, I may never be able to cook what my mom cooks. But she gave me skills to get dinner on the table and play on the way there - and I'll take that over a box full of recipes any day.

grace, grace, God's grace

These last two weeks were brutal. A couple of those weeks when it feels like nothing will possibly get done on time. Those sorts of weeks that you look up when they are over and think…did that all just happen?

As these two weeks began Dr. Katherine Bassard preached a sermon titled, “Put It on Pause” in chapel. You can watch it here if you want. She reminded me of what I too often forget. I can ask God for help…in anything.

She painted a picture of the first day of school when her son rushed trying to get everything together to leave on time. He couldn’t find his keys. She sat quietly letting him work it all out. Then, he asked for her help. She got up and together they found what he needed.

As I sat in the pew I knew that I would rehearse that message many times over the next days.

While in India I talked to God about everything. We couldn’t find our friends? I prayed. Our train was pulling out of the station? I prayed. I ate stuff I’m allergic to from strangers in an airport? I prayed. I could do nothing to alleviate the poverty around me? I prayed.

And God heard me. And God cared. And God responded.

These were big things. My wellbeing and the wellbeing of others depended on those prayers. Does God care as much that the things I must get done during two crazy weeks are overwhelming me? Yes. Does God care that I’m too anxious to sleep? Yes. Did God call me to these tasks? Yes. Does God do exactly what I demand, whenever I demand it? No.

I wrestle with how to think about prayer. God is walking closely as I learn and grow in our friendship. I oscillate from acting like a demanding child to making requests with the “thy will be done” clause at the end. In the first case I feel too brazen. In the second, I know that too often I am trying to absolve myself of some responsibility.

I worry a lot. I can’t focus on the task in front of me because my mind is far ahead in the future where there isn’t enough time to actually get everything done.

But when I pause I remember that I am told not to worry. That God cares for me just like the birds and the lilies. Usually just remembering doesn’t make things better. God and I have to dig around to find the root of my worry. Typically I am concerned about how I will be perceived if something isn’t done on time, or how I’m going to function with so little sleep.

I stop and breathe. I name the things that I know I cannot do on my own (read: everything) …and then I stop trying to do them on my own. I ask for God’s help.

It feels petty to pray for an email to come at just the right moment. But, when you’re coordinating 5 interviews – one of them across a 10.5 hour time difference – it matters. Not because my work needs to be timely so my reputation stays all shiny. But because God called me to use my gifts – talent and time – to write a piece that glorifies the work that is being done to build the kingdom around the world.

These past two weeks, I was overwhelmed by God’s grace. I felt seen. I saw God answer the “smallest” prayers. I felt renewed as I took deep breaths and set aside my to-do list to celebrate friends and to reminisce on journeys. I saw emails come in just at the right moment. I ran into people that I really needed answers from just in time. You can call these things coincidences, but I don’t.

When I tell you that I took a test, wrote an article, gave two presentations, hosted a dinner, celebrated a baby and an engagement, finished my homework, had meaningful conversations, found time for the gym, discovered key pieces to my future mentoring plans, processed God’s healing work through trusted friends, and so much more…and I finish with “by the grace of God”…I mean it.

There is no other explanation. And just like I paused to ask God for help, I was also blessed with a lot of time in a car to and from Austin to pause and thank God. Not just for the emails, but for the ways God makes me new each day. For the way God is working in the lives of the people I love. For the journey God allows me.

God is good. God is gracious. God is faithful.

I am thankful. 

presence

“You may never pass this way, with these people, again.” - Dr. Stroope

India taught me about presence and seasons.

We moved around a lot throughout the trip. We spent 2 days in Los Angeles, 3 days in Hong Kong, 4 days in Hyderabad, 3 days in Chennai, 2 days in Cochin, 3 days in Jaipur, 5 days in Kolkata, 3 days in Varanasi, 2 days in Agra, and 3 days in Delhi. There were also a cumulative number of days spent in the in-between spaces of airports, train stations, and buses.

When I am home I have a bad habit of pushing things off until later. Specifically I tend to squander moments with people in the now because I feel that there will always be a later for more meaningful interaction. I plan eloquent emails in my mind where I will tell so-and-so how much their time and the sharing of themselves meant to me…instead of looking them in the eyes and saying it then. I engage in chattering small-talk with people who I plan to later reach out to sit down for coffee so I can hear about something specific in their life that interests me…instead of initiating that conversation during the time we are already spending together.

While in India it was harder to justify these habits.

The journey through India was fast paced, yet somehow time slowed in certain moments.

I can’t pick a favorite place or experience from the journey to and from India. But, the time I speak of most was when we were in Hyderabad. There was one night in particular when we sat around Sagar’s home sharing food and hearing of the ways God is faithful and active in the lives of his family, our new friends. I wanted that night to continue forever. I wanted the chance to return to that moment again and again and continue hearing about the new ways God was working in between spurts of laughter, Bollywood dance numbers, and the historic inaugurations of political leaders. Sitting there I realized that I probably will not have the chance to do that. From there, two thoughts struck me. The first was that I needed to keep my mind in the room and be fully present. If this was my only opportunity for this moment, I wanted to experience it fully.

The second realization was a comfort and a challenge to my first thought. Because of our identity as brothers and sisters in Christ we will come together again one day. We have a hope in a resurrected Lord who will one day return to restore all things. I don’t know what that looks like or means exactly, but I believe the brief moments we share together now in places like a living room in Hyderabad are a small taste of something much greater to come. And I want to practice savoring those moments now even as I anticipate a joy I can’t fully imagine of our reunion in the future.

Back home, I find myself navigating the tension between these two thoughts.

Over the past year I have been blessed with deep friendships that developed very quickly. Waco is not a permanent destination for most. So, these deep friendships come with the understanding that our time together in the same place will expire. I also carry the understanding that I am not great at keeping up with people over long distances. I am improving but I’m still not great at it.

Seasons are fluid. It’s hard to say with certainty how long they will last. Maybe people will hang around after graduation. Maybe I will get a chance to return to India. Maybe this time I will be awesome at keeping up with people who I don’t see every week. But maybe not. How can I better approach time with family and friends as if it is all there is? Am I soaking up and offering up everything I can in every moment? Or am I guilty once again of assuming there will be another opportunity later and using that as an excuse to not invest and engage deeply?

Presence is an act of love and the opportunity to be present with certain people and places is a blessing that comes through the ebb and flow of seasons. India awakened me to this truth that already surrounded me.