Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed! Peace be with you on this glorious, joyous day.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
A Hike on Holy Saturday
As you know, I'm in Winchester. Today my sister and I drove to Shenandoah National Park. First we wanted to hike Old Rag; then, when we found out it was still icy and snowy up there, we decided to hike to Overall Run Falls (the tallest waterfall in the park); then, when we drove there and saw it was still very snowy, we decided to hike to Mary's Rock; then, we took the wrong trail head and wound up going in the opposite direction.
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| Mandatory selfie, please forgive. |
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| Can I live in these mountains? |
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| Entrance sign, whoo! |
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| Our little river. |
Peace be with you. Countdown to Easter: 1 day.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Amazon Prime 3.0
Winchester is lovely. The mountains are beautiful. Can I please live here? I hope there's a UCC church nearby. Future pastor coming through. Please please please this is so pretty I want to spend my life out here. Also, I've been tweaking my Amazon wish list tonight in the hotel:
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| Take away my computer, quickly. |
I want too many books. It's going to take me years to get through all of these. I add so many books, I'll never get through all of these. Whoops. In any case, my reading has slowed down considerably over the course of the semester (if you haven't noticed from my Currently Reading bar to the right). You know how it is, college, life, all that jazz. Very time-consuming stuff!
Speaking of my Currently Reading bar, I regret to announce that it will no longer be in link form, as Blogger hates me and won't let me edit the links anymore (it keeps saying an "error" is happening, but no matter what I do, it won't budge). From now on, it'll just be a list, so if you want to read more about a book you'll have to Google it.
I wish you all a lovely weekend!
The Terrible Silencing We Cannot Master
From Brueggemann's Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth:
Holy God who hovers daily round us in fidelity and compassion,
this day we are mindful of another, dread-filled hovering,
that of the power of death before which we stand
thin and needful.
All our days, we are mindful of the pieces of our lives
and the parts of your world
that are on the loose in destructive ways.
We notice that wilderness midst our fear and our anger unresolved.
We mark it in a world of brutality and poverty and hunger
all around us.
We notice all our days.
But on this day of all days,
that great threat looms so large and powerful.
It is not for nothing,
that we tremble at these three hours of darkness
and the raging earthquake.
It is not for nothing
that we have a sense of our helplessness
before the dread power of death that has broken loose
and that struts against our interest and even against our will.
Our whole life is not unlike the playground of the village,
lovely and delightful and filled with squeals unafraid,
and then we remember the silencing
of all those squeals in death,
and we remember the legions of Kristy's
that are swept away in a riddle too deep for knowing.
Our whole life is like that playground
and on this dread-filled Friday we pause before
the terrible silencing we cannot master.
So we come in our helpless candor this day...
remembering, giving thanks, celebrating...
but not for one instant unmindful of dangers too ominous
and powers too sturdy and threats well beyond us.
We turn eventually from our hurt for children lost.
We turn finally from all our unresolved losses
to the cosmic grief at the loss of Jesus.
We recall and relive that wrenching Friday
when the hurt cut to your heart.
We see in that terrible hurt, our losses
and your full embrace of loss and defeat.
We dare pray while the darkness descends
and the earthquake trembles,
we dare pray for eyes to see fully
and mouths to speak fully the power of death all around,
we dare pray for a capacity to notice unflinching,
that in our happy playgrounds other children die,
and grow silent,
we pray more for your notice and your promise
and your healing.
Our only urging on Friday is that you live this as we must
impacted but not destroyed,
dimmed but not quenched.
For your great staying power
and your promise of newness we praise you.
It is in your power
and your promise of newness we praise you.
It is in your power
and your promise that we take our stand this day.
We dare trust that Friday is never the last day,
so we watch for the new day of life.
Hear our prayer and be your full self toward us.
Amen.
Peace be with you. Countdown to Easter: 2 days.
Holy God who hovers daily round us in fidelity and compassion,
this day we are mindful of another, dread-filled hovering,
that of the power of death before which we stand
thin and needful.
All our days, we are mindful of the pieces of our lives
and the parts of your world
that are on the loose in destructive ways.
We notice that wilderness midst our fear and our anger unresolved.
We mark it in a world of brutality and poverty and hunger
all around us.
We notice all our days.
But on this day of all days,
that great threat looms so large and powerful.
It is not for nothing,
that we tremble at these three hours of darkness
and the raging earthquake.
It is not for nothing
that we have a sense of our helplessness
before the dread power of death that has broken loose
and that struts against our interest and even against our will.
Our whole life is not unlike the playground of the village,
lovely and delightful and filled with squeals unafraid,
and then we remember the silencing
of all those squeals in death,
and we remember the legions of Kristy's
that are swept away in a riddle too deep for knowing.
Our whole life is like that playground
and on this dread-filled Friday we pause before
the terrible silencing we cannot master.
So we come in our helpless candor this day...
remembering, giving thanks, celebrating...
but not for one instant unmindful of dangers too ominous
and powers too sturdy and threats well beyond us.
We turn eventually from our hurt for children lost.
We turn finally from all our unresolved losses
to the cosmic grief at the loss of Jesus.
We recall and relive that wrenching Friday
when the hurt cut to your heart.
We see in that terrible hurt, our losses
and your full embrace of loss and defeat.
We dare pray while the darkness descends
and the earthquake trembles,
we dare pray for eyes to see fully
and mouths to speak fully the power of death all around,
we dare pray for a capacity to notice unflinching,
that in our happy playgrounds other children die,
and grow silent,
we pray more for your notice and your promise
and your healing.
Our only urging on Friday is that you live this as we must
impacted but not destroyed,
dimmed but not quenched.
For your great staying power
and your promise of newness we praise you.
It is in your power
and your promise of newness we praise you.
It is in your power
and your promise that we take our stand this day.
We dare trust that Friday is never the last day,
so we watch for the new day of life.
Hear our prayer and be your full self toward us.
Amen.
Peace be with you. Countdown to Easter: 2 days.
Good Friday on the Wesley Blog
As you all know, I write for the Wesley student blog each Friday. Check out today's post about Good Friday here.
Peace be with you on this day.
Peace be with you on this day.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Were You There
From the hymn Were You There:
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?
Were you there when the sun refused to shine?
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
I attended the Maundy Thursday service tonight at the United Methodist church next door to Wesley. I had originally planned to have dinner with friends at seven, which is when the service was, but by a happy twist of fate, dinner moved to six. So to the service I went.
May I just say, wow.
I've never been to a Maundy Thursday service before. At my high school, we had chapel every Tuesday and Thursday, so we would always have a "Maundy" chapel, but it usually consisted of us singing contemporary worship songs, most notably, In Christ Alone and stopping after the "There in the ground His body lay" line. The following Tuesday at chapel, we would start off the song again with the following line: "Then bursting forth in glorious day/Up from the grave He rose again" and on and on.
This service meant so much more to me than that. I got to the church ten minutes early, so I sat in a pew and started praying. I asked God to help me be centered in the moment, to help me open my heart and eyes to this holy day when we remember the Last Supper. Let me tell you, it worked.
The last hymn we sang (shown above) did me in. By the fourth verse ("when the sun refused to shine") I was a puddle of tears. I kept sniffling in between every other word, which was a bit embarrassing. It was a very special, intimate moment. As I left the church, all I could say to the associate pastor was, "That was a really good service."
Peace be with you on this day.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?
Were you there when the sun refused to shine?
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
I attended the Maundy Thursday service tonight at the United Methodist church next door to Wesley. I had originally planned to have dinner with friends at seven, which is when the service was, but by a happy twist of fate, dinner moved to six. So to the service I went.
May I just say, wow.
I've never been to a Maundy Thursday service before. At my high school, we had chapel every Tuesday and Thursday, so we would always have a "Maundy" chapel, but it usually consisted of us singing contemporary worship songs, most notably, In Christ Alone and stopping after the "There in the ground His body lay" line. The following Tuesday at chapel, we would start off the song again with the following line: "Then bursting forth in glorious day/Up from the grave He rose again" and on and on.
This service meant so much more to me than that. I got to the church ten minutes early, so I sat in a pew and started praying. I asked God to help me be centered in the moment, to help me open my heart and eyes to this holy day when we remember the Last Supper. Let me tell you, it worked.
The last hymn we sang (shown above) did me in. By the fourth verse ("when the sun refused to shine") I was a puddle of tears. I kept sniffling in between every other word, which was a bit embarrassing. It was a very special, intimate moment. As I left the church, all I could say to the associate pastor was, "That was a really good service."
Peace be with you on this day.
Cara and the (okay, maybe not so bad) Whale
I'm feeling a little foolish now. You see, I was convinced I wasn't going to get any of the classes I wanted during registration. Well, I got them all. Which is great, especially because right before I hit the "Submit" button I was thinking something along the lines of PLEASE GOD I WANT THESE CLASSES SO BADLY PLEASE OH PLEASE I'LL BE DEVASTATED IF I DON'T GET THEM LORD OH HELP PLEASE JESUS I WANT THESE CLASSES GOD PLEASE and, as you can imagine, things might not have been too pretty if I hadn't gotten them. Thank God (truly), things worked out beautifully.
So, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado:
Cara's Fabulous Fall 2013 Schedule
MWF: Arthurian Literature, 11:00-11:50
MW: Principles of Sociology, 2:00-3:20
TR: Letters of Paul, 8:00-9:20
Christian Origins, 9:30-10:50
Women's Chorus, 3:30-5:30
Life is good. Countdown to Easter: 3 days.
So, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado:
Cara's Fabulous Fall 2013 Schedule
MWF: Arthurian Literature, 11:00-11:50
MW: Principles of Sociology, 2:00-3:20
TR: Letters of Paul, 8:00-9:20
Christian Origins, 9:30-10:50
Women's Chorus, 3:30-5:30
Life is good. Countdown to Easter: 3 days.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Cara and the Whale
Tomorrow morning is registration. One of classes I desperately want only has 5 spots left, and the other I equally desperately want only has 6. I nearly had an anxiety attack last night while thinking about it (shout-out to the best roommate ever Lauren for averting disaster). In Lit and the Bible today, we were talking about typology in the New Testament, and part of the lecture was about the comparisons Jesus makes between Himself and Jonah. Which reminded me of one of my favorite Bible verses:
"In my distress I called to the LORD,
and he answered me.
From deep in the realm of the dead I called for help,
and you listened to my cry.
You hurled me into the depths,
into the very heart of the seas,
and the currents swirled about me;
all your waves and breakers
swept over me.
I said, 'I have been banished
from your sight;
yet I will look again
toward your holy temple.'
The engulfing waters threatened me,
the deep surrounded me;
seaweed was wrapped around my head.
To the roots of the mountains I sank down;
the earth beneath me barred me in forever.
But you, LORD my God,
brought my life up from the pit."
"In my distress I called to the LORD,
and he answered me.
From deep in the realm of the dead I called for help,
and you listened to my cry.
You hurled me into the depths,
into the very heart of the seas,
and the currents swirled about me;
all your waves and breakers
swept over me.
I said, 'I have been banished
from your sight;
yet I will look again
toward your holy temple.'
The engulfing waters threatened me,
the deep surrounded me;
seaweed was wrapped around my head.
To the roots of the mountains I sank down;
the earth beneath me barred me in forever.
But you, LORD my God,
brought my life up from the pit."
Jonah 2:2-6
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
"A Broken Hallelujah"
I put the title as a quotation not because it's something I said, but because it's the title of Jen Hatmaker's most recent blog post. If you don't know who Jen Hatmaker is, she's an author and blogger who lives in Texas and started a church with her husband. She's written many books, two of which are 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess and Interrupted: An Adventure in Relearning the Essentials of Faith, both of which I recommend (especially 7). Anyway, here's an excerpt from her post:
This is the week Jesus rose to his task and split history in two. This is the week he rode on a donkey, cried in the garden, suffered on the cross, rose into glory. This is the week that sinful, broken humans were granted a pardon, justified to perfection and set free. It is too miraculous for words. Songs and sermons fail us; we huddle at the cross, overwhelmed by the punishment that brought us peace.
It is with a heavy heart that I join hands with my brothers and sisters, fellow sinners saved by this grace, and come collectively before the Light of the World, declaring our broken hallelujah. We bow in heartbroken reverence, thankful grief. We want our lives to scream WORSHIP, for our Redeemer lives and his kingdom cannot be shaken. Jesus reigns and we are his. There is nothing else to say. It is finished indeed.
It's strange how much more Lent has meant to me this year, how much Jesus' sacrifice means to me now. Then again, it isn't all that strange; my faith has grown far more than I could have anticipated, dusting off and inhabiting parts of me I didn't know existed. This week, this season, means the world to me.
Peace be with you.
This is the week Jesus rose to his task and split history in two. This is the week he rode on a donkey, cried in the garden, suffered on the cross, rose into glory. This is the week that sinful, broken humans were granted a pardon, justified to perfection and set free. It is too miraculous for words. Songs and sermons fail us; we huddle at the cross, overwhelmed by the punishment that brought us peace.
It is with a heavy heart that I join hands with my brothers and sisters, fellow sinners saved by this grace, and come collectively before the Light of the World, declaring our broken hallelujah. We bow in heartbroken reverence, thankful grief. We want our lives to scream WORSHIP, for our Redeemer lives and his kingdom cannot be shaken. Jesus reigns and we are his. There is nothing else to say. It is finished indeed.
It's strange how much more Lent has meant to me this year, how much Jesus' sacrifice means to me now. Then again, it isn't all that strange; my faith has grown far more than I could have anticipated, dusting off and inhabiting parts of me I didn't know existed. This week, this season, means the world to me.
Peace be with you.
That We May Change
A prayer from Brueggemann's Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth:
Holy God--in this precious hour, we pause
and gather to hear your word--
to do so, we break from our work responsibilities
and from our play fantasies;
we move from our fears that overwhelm
and from our ambitions that are too strong.
Free us in these moments from every distraction,
that we may focus to listen,
that we may hear, that we may change.
Amen. Countdown to Easter: 5 days.
Holy God--in this precious hour, we pause
and gather to hear your word--
to do so, we break from our work responsibilities
and from our play fantasies;
we move from our fears that overwhelm
and from our ambitions that are too strong.
Free us in these moments from every distraction,
that we may focus to listen,
that we may hear, that we may change.
Amen. Countdown to Easter: 5 days.
Monday, March 25, 2013
On My Mind: The Passion
One of the most inescapable truths of Christianity occurred to me today. Of course, I'd known it was true. The thing is, I had never realized exactly what it meant. It's a wholly necessary part of my faith, and yet I had somehow managed to avoid letting it into my heart.
The truth is: Jesus died.
If someone asked me what Christianity was, I would probably talk about Jesus being the Son of God, the Messiah, the Anointed One, and the wonderful works He did and the lessons He taught, and how they apply to us today. I would talk about the crucifixion and the resurrection, but always in very formal terms; He died for our sins and rose again, and that was that. Although I thought I understood the concept, I really didn't. I'm still not sure if I do.
I've never seen Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. I remember expressing an interest in seeing it when I was much younger, but my mother wisely chose not to let me see it. As I got older, I made the decision not to see it because I didn't want to "see Jesus' death dramatized," whatever that means. I watched a special last Easter on the History Channel about the process of crucifixion and what it actually entails, and I thought it gave me a better understanding of Jesus' suffering and sacrifice. All it really gave me was a morbid fascination with crucifixion, as Marni and Andrew can attest (that was my chosen topic the morning of the potato drop).
Somewhere in the middle of Mark yesterday, I started to feel the reality of Jesus' death. When I read about Jesus riding into Jerusalem, I thought of how it was Palm Sunday, and in a few days' time, it would be Good Friday. I read on, through the last week of Jesus' life, and soon Mark was over. Jesus had died and risen again. I felt something, but I wasn't quite sure what.
The truth is, Jesus died. He felt the excruciating pain that crucifixion brings (now, that History Channel special is only amplifying my understanding of just how much pain that would have been). He suffered physical, mental, and emotional agony on that cross, and even spiritual pain. My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me? He must have felt so alone in that moment. Then He breathed His last, and life left Him, and the Son of Man was dead.
A bit depressing, but on the bright side, Easter is coming soon. As I'm sure you can imagine, I'm looking forward to it all the more now.
In the meantime, all I can say is, thank You.
In the meantime, all I can say is, thank You.
Held Back
A prayer from Brueggemann's Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth:
You have texted us yet again,
with this glorious text of homecoming and well-being.
We have finished with the text of doom and extermination,
ready to relish your good news of deep wells,
and safe roads,
and happy jackals.
We among your ransomed and redeemed,
we in gladness and in gratitude.
Just beyond the margin of this text,
we are your people bottomed in Thursday,
grieved in Friday,
our days of doom and failure and death,
your days of suffering and anguish.
We look past the doom days
to the Easter page of good news, ready to dance.
In life as in text,
we would leap beyond where we are to where you promise to be,
"Ahead of us in Galilee,"
held back only by the truth of Thursday and Friday
and by loud crashing weapons,
held back, waiting, ready to dance, yet held back...
for a little while. Amen.
Peace be with you. Countdown to Easter: 6 days.
You have texted us yet again,
with this glorious text of homecoming and well-being.
We have finished with the text of doom and extermination,
ready to relish your good news of deep wells,
and safe roads,
and happy jackals.
We among your ransomed and redeemed,
we in gladness and in gratitude.
Just beyond the margin of this text,
we are your people bottomed in Thursday,
grieved in Friday,
our days of doom and failure and death,
your days of suffering and anguish.
We look past the doom days
to the Easter page of good news, ready to dance.
In life as in text,
we would leap beyond where we are to where you promise to be,
"Ahead of us in Galilee,"
held back only by the truth of Thursday and Friday
and by loud crashing weapons,
held back, waiting, ready to dance, yet held back...
for a little while. Amen.
Peace be with you. Countdown to Easter: 6 days.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Snapshot: Syracuse University
Our final concert was at Syracuse University. We sang with their women's chorus there, and may I just say, it was quite fun! We've been driving since this morning, and we're not in Williamsburg yet. We're getting close to Richmond, though, so we're in the home stretch. Maybe another hour.
Overall, I've really enjoyed our spring tour. Women's Chorus is an awesome group of girls, and I've so loved getting to spend time with everyone, seeing new beautiful sanctuaries, and meeting our host families. I've missed campus, however--especially Wesley's SNP tonight. For Palm Sunday, we made Jesus cake "parade floats" with the Episcopal campus ministry, and I really desperately wish I could have been there.
It's only now beginning to hit me that Lent is almost over. I feel like it's flown by so quickly, and I'm not ready for it to be over. For one, I still have the majority of the Sermon on the Mount to memorize, but more importantly, I'm going to miss what Lent has meant to me this year. It's been so incredibly special, reading Jesus' words each night (well, most nights) and hearing them repeated back to myself throughout each day. Having them fresh in my mind, particularly the Beatitudes, has taught me to see things in a new, brighter light. I'm more mindful of how I treat others, or I like to think I am. I certainly think through my actions (and the motives behind them) much more now. I like that Lent has blessed me with this.
Even if I don't memorize the Sermon on the Mount in time for Easter (I do have three tests and registration this week), I'm going to keep memorizing it after Lent is over. It's important to me; I love reading the Bible so intimately. We're about to start our New Testament section in my Lit and the Bible class, so we've read Mark for tomorrow. At my home church for Ash Wednesday, they did a full reading of Mark. I was disappointed I wasn't able to be there to hear it, but having Mark assigned for tomorrow gave me an idea: Today, on the bus, my roommate and I read Mark aloud together.
Well, I read Mark aloud; my roommate can't read on buses due to motion sickness. So we read through Mark in just under an hour and a half. I'd never admit it to her, but I was getting rather emotional by the end. It was a surprisingly moving experience, reading straight through one of the gospels on a bus filled with forty 18- to 22-year-old girls watching Despicable Me.
Have a blessed day! Countdown to Easter: 7 days.
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| A lovely statue (feat. my equally-lovely friends Kimi and Lauren). |
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| Hi, my name's Cara, and I'm a stained-glass window addict. |
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| The music building at SU. Doesn't it look like a castle? |
It's only now beginning to hit me that Lent is almost over. I feel like it's flown by so quickly, and I'm not ready for it to be over. For one, I still have the majority of the Sermon on the Mount to memorize, but more importantly, I'm going to miss what Lent has meant to me this year. It's been so incredibly special, reading Jesus' words each night (well, most nights) and hearing them repeated back to myself throughout each day. Having them fresh in my mind, particularly the Beatitudes, has taught me to see things in a new, brighter light. I'm more mindful of how I treat others, or I like to think I am. I certainly think through my actions (and the motives behind them) much more now. I like that Lent has blessed me with this.
Even if I don't memorize the Sermon on the Mount in time for Easter (I do have three tests and registration this week), I'm going to keep memorizing it after Lent is over. It's important to me; I love reading the Bible so intimately. We're about to start our New Testament section in my Lit and the Bible class, so we've read Mark for tomorrow. At my home church for Ash Wednesday, they did a full reading of Mark. I was disappointed I wasn't able to be there to hear it, but having Mark assigned for tomorrow gave me an idea: Today, on the bus, my roommate and I read Mark aloud together.
Well, I read Mark aloud; my roommate can't read on buses due to motion sickness. So we read through Mark in just under an hour and a half. I'd never admit it to her, but I was getting rather emotional by the end. It was a surprisingly moving experience, reading straight through one of the gospels on a bus filled with forty 18- to 22-year-old girls watching Despicable Me.
Have a blessed day! Countdown to Easter: 7 days.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Snapshot: Frenchtown Presbyterian
Another day, another bus ride. Right now we're somewhere in Pennsylvania (I think, at least--we may be in New Jersey or New York) and there's officially snow on the ground. It's March 23; no thank you, weather.
Again, I'm obsessed with stained-glass windows. I hope whatever church I'm the pastor of in the future will have stained-glass windows.
I really enjoyed our host family last night. They were a couple maybe a little older than my parents, and they lived in this old house in the middle of the woods. I kid you not: If there existed a single home that had everything my mom has ever tried to incorporate into our house over the years, this would be it. She'll probably be annoyed I didn't take pictures, but I'm not sure pictures would have done it justice. Oh, and let me tell you--the library. The husband had an entire room dedicated to his books, and may I just say, I spent about fifteen minutes just looking at them.
Other than the house and books, the couple were so warm and welcoming. It can be a little weird staying in a stranger's home, but they made us feel right at home! We talked theology, ballroom dancing, and a lot of interesting other stuff. All in all, a very fun night. And now, off to Syracuse!
We sang at Frenchtown Presbyterian Church in Frenchtown, New Jersey last night. It was a much smaller church than St. Anne's, but oh my goodness was it beautiful. I probably think all churches are beautiful, though. Actually, no, I have seen churches I haven't thought were beautiful. Anyway, check out the photos below (I said I'd take pictures, didn't I?):
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| Photo cred to my roomie, Lauren! |
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| Part of the sanctuary. |
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| I was obsessed with this window. |
I really enjoyed our host family last night. They were a couple maybe a little older than my parents, and they lived in this old house in the middle of the woods. I kid you not: If there existed a single home that had everything my mom has ever tried to incorporate into our house over the years, this would be it. She'll probably be annoyed I didn't take pictures, but I'm not sure pictures would have done it justice. Oh, and let me tell you--the library. The husband had an entire room dedicated to his books, and may I just say, I spent about fifteen minutes just looking at them.
Other than the house and books, the couple were so warm and welcoming. It can be a little weird staying in a stranger's home, but they made us feel right at home! We talked theology, ballroom dancing, and a lot of interesting other stuff. All in all, a very fun night. And now, off to Syracuse!
Friday, March 22, 2013
Snapshot: St. Anne's Parish
Last night, the Women's Chorus sang at St. Anne's Parish in Annapolis, Maryland. When we got to the church, I simply could not stop talking about how beautiful the sanctuary was. Unfortunately, I had made the silly decision to leave my phone on the bus, so I didn't have a chance to get any pictures. However, I did find some stunning photos on St. Anne's website.*
I thought the stained-glass windows were just stunning. At the very end of the concert, some sunlight managed to get through one of the windows, turning the entire chorus various shades of red and blue. Although I personally had some trouble seeing at that moment, I'm sure the effect was magical.
Onto New Jersey today! We're actually on the bus now, but we thankfully have wifi, so I'm able to write this post. We're currently in Pennsylvania, which is perfectly fine by me--you all know how fond I am of the Amish, and there are plenty of Amish-Mennonite communities in Pennsylvania! Does that sound weird? I hope that doesn't sound weird. I mean well, I promise!
I'll be sure to take pictures at the churches today, tomorrow, and Sunday! In the meantime, have a lovely Friday and a restful weekend!!
*All, all, all credit for these photos goes to St. Anne's Parish. I own nothing.
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| The church sits in the center of town on a hill--too perfect! |
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| Mary and St. Anne. |
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| An angel (I think Gabriel, but I could be wrong). |
I thought the stained-glass windows were just stunning. At the very end of the concert, some sunlight managed to get through one of the windows, turning the entire chorus various shades of red and blue. Although I personally had some trouble seeing at that moment, I'm sure the effect was magical.
Onto New Jersey today! We're actually on the bus now, but we thankfully have wifi, so I'm able to write this post. We're currently in Pennsylvania, which is perfectly fine by me--you all know how fond I am of the Amish, and there are plenty of Amish-Mennonite communities in Pennsylvania! Does that sound weird? I hope that doesn't sound weird. I mean well, I promise!
I'll be sure to take pictures at the churches today, tomorrow, and Sunday! In the meantime, have a lovely Friday and a restful weekend!!
*All, all, all credit for these photos goes to St. Anne's Parish. I own nothing.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
A Declaration of Sorts
In today's news, I officially declared my Religious Studies major!!
It's been a busy (and rainy) week, so this is a nice way to brighten it up. Now onto the William & Mary Women's Chorus tour (to Maryland, New Jersey, and New York!) and another busy, busy week.
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| It's Facebook-official and everything! |
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
The Beatitudes
One of the things I've chosen to do for Lent this year is to memorize the Sermon on the Mount. Although I've hit a bit of a snag (I've gotten through the part on murder, so I'm maybe a fourth to a third of the way through), I still think I can have it all memorized by Easter.
My favorite part is, of course, the Beatitudes, so I thought I'd share:
Blessed are the poor in heart,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil things against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
Have a nice day!
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Snapshot: Potato Drop
This morning, scores of William & Mary students from different clubs and organizations got together to take part in the 15th Annual Potato Drop. For those who don't know, a potato drop is an event where a big truck brings ~50,000 potatoes that are then repackaged from 50-lb to 20-lb bags and reloaded into smaller trucks to go to food banks and soup kitchens around Williamsburg and state of Virginia.
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| As you can see, it rained... |
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| ...but it just made us work faster! |
But aside from the soreness and the best work-out I've had all week, it was a really fun time. Much bonding took place under the tarps as we huddled to keep warm, and we got to meet some pretty cool people. I thought I wouldn't want to see another potato for quite some time after today, but you know what? After all that hard work, mashed potatoes sound just lovely.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
It Is Enough: March
#ItIsEnough was founded on December 14, 2012 and is, to quote their Facebook page, "an informal coalition of Christians who use social media to raise awareness of gun violence and speak out in favor of stronger gun laws." The coalition remembers the tragedy of Sandy Hook and all other instances of gun violence by posting on the 14th of every month.
For my contribution to this month's #ItIsEnough post, I invite you to read an article written by Shane Claiborne entitled What Would Jesus Say to the NRA? Here is a passage,
Many Christians have begun to speak of Jesus as an interruption to the "myth of redemptive violence," the assumption that we can use violence to get rid of violence or that we can destroy a life to save a life. The myth of redemptive violence has many ugly faces. It teaches us that we can kill those who kill to show that killing is wrong. It teaches us to live by the law of "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" a law that Jesus firmly spun on its head, saying, "You've heard it said 'an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth... but I tell you..." There is another way. Killing to show that killing is wrong is like trying to teach holiness by fornication. The cure is as bad as the disease.
For my contribution to this month's #ItIsEnough post, I invite you to read an article written by Shane Claiborne entitled What Would Jesus Say to the NRA? Here is a passage,
Many Christians have begun to speak of Jesus as an interruption to the "myth of redemptive violence," the assumption that we can use violence to get rid of violence or that we can destroy a life to save a life. The myth of redemptive violence has many ugly faces. It teaches us that we can kill those who kill to show that killing is wrong. It teaches us to live by the law of "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" a law that Jesus firmly spun on its head, saying, "You've heard it said 'an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth... but I tell you..." There is another way. Killing to show that killing is wrong is like trying to teach holiness by fornication. The cure is as bad as the disease.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Habemus Papam!
The results are in, folks: Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio of Argentina has officially been elected Pope Francis I, making him the 266th pope and the first Latin American ever appointed to the office. I'm not Catholic, of course, but this is living history, and I happen to be very excited about it.
May God bless you, and peace be with you.
May God bless you, and peace be with you.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Confessions of a Baby Christian
I had some extra time today* so I went ahead and wrote my first post for the Wesley Blog (see link to the right). This post won't go live until Friday, which is my day to post, but nevertheless. I was rambling near the end, but I started to hit on some things that interested me. I said:
I never thought that being open to God would actually lead to anything. But He snuck up on me, and if I'm being honest, He really freaked me out (but in a good way). Suffice it to say that the intensity of God's love is not a feeling one forgets. I found that I wanted to believe, and even more, I thought that maybe I always had. Over the past two years, my faith has transformed my life in ways more beautiful and wonderful than I could have possibly imagined. I opened the door to God, and He ripped it off its hinges so it could never be closed again. My faith is where my passion is, where my life is, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.
I have a habit of being most honest when I'm least aware of my inner critic. For me (and most people, I guess), that's when I just let 'er rip. I type and type away until I get something good, and that's exactly what happened here. Before this paragraph, I was explaining my faith journey (and my parents') in broad strokes, and then I decided to delve deeper. And I liked what I found.
If you had told fifteen-year-old me that I would one day want to be a pastor--that I would one day call myself religious, even--I would have laughed in your face. I was unsure of what I believed, yes, but I was certain I would never be that into whatever faith I would end up having. It's crazy how much things have changed. Sometimes when I remember I've only been a Christian for two years (it's a surprisingly easy thing to forget), I become embarrassed. I fear people will judge me for wanting to be a pastor, will say I'm too young in my faith. There are plenty of times when I feel like an "infant Christian," as Paul might say, but I know what I believe, and I know what I feel called to do.
My past embarrasses me. Whose doesn't? Okay, maybe really mature people don't cringe when they think about their past actions, but I consider myself at least moderately mature, and I definitely have my fair share of regrets. I'm embarrassed I haven't been a Christian for very long. So what? And? That doesn't magically invalidate the overwhelming love I sometimes feel that I can't quite explain or the sense that I'm called to be a pastor and guide others in their faith the way I've been guided in mine. No one can tell me what I'm supposed to feel or do based on how long I've believed in God.
I still feel embarrassed from time to time, but I'm learning not to. Mine may not be the traditional faith journey, but it's a beautiful, lasting, permanent part of me that I'm proud to have been blessed with.
I'm glad I wrote my Friday post today. Peace be with you.
*"Some" is relative. I really have no time. I was just procrastinating. I still am. Stop it, Cara.
I never thought that being open to God would actually lead to anything. But He snuck up on me, and if I'm being honest, He really freaked me out (but in a good way). Suffice it to say that the intensity of God's love is not a feeling one forgets. I found that I wanted to believe, and even more, I thought that maybe I always had. Over the past two years, my faith has transformed my life in ways more beautiful and wonderful than I could have possibly imagined. I opened the door to God, and He ripped it off its hinges so it could never be closed again. My faith is where my passion is, where my life is, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.
I have a habit of being most honest when I'm least aware of my inner critic. For me (and most people, I guess), that's when I just let 'er rip. I type and type away until I get something good, and that's exactly what happened here. Before this paragraph, I was explaining my faith journey (and my parents') in broad strokes, and then I decided to delve deeper. And I liked what I found.
If you had told fifteen-year-old me that I would one day want to be a pastor--that I would one day call myself religious, even--I would have laughed in your face. I was unsure of what I believed, yes, but I was certain I would never be that into whatever faith I would end up having. It's crazy how much things have changed. Sometimes when I remember I've only been a Christian for two years (it's a surprisingly easy thing to forget), I become embarrassed. I fear people will judge me for wanting to be a pastor, will say I'm too young in my faith. There are plenty of times when I feel like an "infant Christian," as Paul might say, but I know what I believe, and I know what I feel called to do.
My past embarrasses me. Whose doesn't? Okay, maybe really mature people don't cringe when they think about their past actions, but I consider myself at least moderately mature, and I definitely have my fair share of regrets. I'm embarrassed I haven't been a Christian for very long. So what? And? That doesn't magically invalidate the overwhelming love I sometimes feel that I can't quite explain or the sense that I'm called to be a pastor and guide others in their faith the way I've been guided in mine. No one can tell me what I'm supposed to feel or do based on how long I've believed in God.
I still feel embarrassed from time to time, but I'm learning not to. Mine may not be the traditional faith journey, but it's a beautiful, lasting, permanent part of me that I'm proud to have been blessed with.
I'm glad I wrote my Friday post today. Peace be with you.
*"Some" is relative. I really have no time. I was just procrastinating. I still am. Stop it, Cara.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
A Prayer of Saint Paul
A selection from the Prayer of Saint Paul in Alan Jacobs' The Essential Gnostic Gospels:
Redeem me, I AM is yours,
from you I've emerged.
Ransom my illuminated soul for eternity and my Spirit.
Reveal to my mind the original perfection of your grace.
Show me what eyes of angels haven't seen,
what ears of emperors, haven't yet heard,
what hasn't yet visited the hearts of men and women,
who have become angelic! after the emblem of the living God
when he was formed at the genesis,
for I've great faith possessed by hope.
For yours is the Kingdom, the glory, the worship,
and the magnificence for ever and ever,
Amen.
The wording seems strange at parts, and that's the Gnosticism coming out. I cut out parts of the prayer, hence the "a selection" clarification above. Some of the phrases are just so beautiful. I love the entire "Show me what eyes of angels" section, and I just love the "magnificence" at the end. It's a very underused term, and that's unfortunate, because God is magnificent!
Redeem me, I AM is yours,
from you I've emerged.
Ransom my illuminated soul for eternity and my Spirit.
Reveal to my mind the original perfection of your grace.
Show me what eyes of angels haven't seen,
what ears of emperors, haven't yet heard,
what hasn't yet visited the hearts of men and women,
who have become angelic! after the emblem of the living God
when he was formed at the genesis,
for I've great faith possessed by hope.
For yours is the Kingdom, the glory, the worship,
and the magnificence for ever and ever,
Amen.
The wording seems strange at parts, and that's the Gnosticism coming out. I cut out parts of the prayer, hence the "a selection" clarification above. Some of the phrases are just so beautiful. I love the entire "Show me what eyes of angels" section, and I just love the "magnificence" at the end. It's a very underused term, and that's unfortunate, because God is magnificent!
Saturday, March 9, 2013
When you assume...
Well, I'm back in Virginia! Campus is still pretty deserted, but it's nice to be back. I flew United, which my family doesn't normally do (we're loyal Southwesters), when means I was assigned a seat on the plane instead of getting to choose one. The girl next to me was a very sweet high school senior visiting her older sister in Virginia Beach. We had a nice conversation about applying to college and choosing a major (I felt awesome and very sage during all of this, naturally), and then she asked me what I was planning to do with my Religious Studies major after I graduated.
As a rule, I don't talk about my faith with total strangers. Acquaintances maybe, friends definitely. When it comes to strangers, I know nothing about their religious background or beliefs. Particularly because it was early on in the flight, I was hesitant to tell her about my plans to become a pastor for fear of several possible outcomes: Maybe all she knew about Christianity was what she'd learned from the media, and would assume I was like the Westboro Baptist Church, which could cause all sorts of bad feelings; maybe she wasn't religious or was a different religion, in which case I wouldn't want to risk making her feel uncomfortable; maybe she'd had a bad experience in the church, which could also lead to an uncomfortable conversation; or, maybe she was a Christian but didn't think that women should be pastors, which would also be awkward.
I considered these possibilities for maybe two seconds before I opened my mouth and said, "I think I'm going to go to a divinity school." She asked what a divinity school was, and I told her it was like a seminary, and then explained that I wanted to be a pastor. I didn't want to go overboard and say I felt that I was called to be a pastor, because I still hadn't gauged her reaction. As it turned out, she was Baptist, and said that she had also considered the ministry but didn't think she was called. We talked for a little while longer about her interest in psychology (I suggested some form of pastoral counseling, if she felt drawn to helping people and working with a church at the same time). Then we both turned our attention to our books.
If I do become a pastor, there are going to be many times when I will have to tell people (sometimes strangers) what I do. I imagine not every conversation will go as seamlessly as today's did, and I know that sometimes I'll be faced with difficult questions that demand an answer. I only hope that there will be classes in seminary that deal with these sorts of things, or at the very least, I hope that when I do someday face a particularly uncomfortable situation, God will be there to walk me through it.
Today on the plane after the conversation, I could almost hear Him laughing and saying, "See what happens when you assume!" My dad always taught me and my sister to plan for the worst and expect the best, but over the years it's become apparent that I plan for the worst and expect the worst. In theory, I believe that all people are good (at least, that's what I choose to believe). Along the same lines, I try to expect that goodness, but as it turns out, I've got a ways to go. Luckily, I'm only nineteen; I have time.
As a rule, I don't talk about my faith with total strangers. Acquaintances maybe, friends definitely. When it comes to strangers, I know nothing about their religious background or beliefs. Particularly because it was early on in the flight, I was hesitant to tell her about my plans to become a pastor for fear of several possible outcomes: Maybe all she knew about Christianity was what she'd learned from the media, and would assume I was like the Westboro Baptist Church, which could cause all sorts of bad feelings; maybe she wasn't religious or was a different religion, in which case I wouldn't want to risk making her feel uncomfortable; maybe she'd had a bad experience in the church, which could also lead to an uncomfortable conversation; or, maybe she was a Christian but didn't think that women should be pastors, which would also be awkward.
I considered these possibilities for maybe two seconds before I opened my mouth and said, "I think I'm going to go to a divinity school." She asked what a divinity school was, and I told her it was like a seminary, and then explained that I wanted to be a pastor. I didn't want to go overboard and say I felt that I was called to be a pastor, because I still hadn't gauged her reaction. As it turned out, she was Baptist, and said that she had also considered the ministry but didn't think she was called. We talked for a little while longer about her interest in psychology (I suggested some form of pastoral counseling, if she felt drawn to helping people and working with a church at the same time). Then we both turned our attention to our books.
If I do become a pastor, there are going to be many times when I will have to tell people (sometimes strangers) what I do. I imagine not every conversation will go as seamlessly as today's did, and I know that sometimes I'll be faced with difficult questions that demand an answer. I only hope that there will be classes in seminary that deal with these sorts of things, or at the very least, I hope that when I do someday face a particularly uncomfortable situation, God will be there to walk me through it.
Today on the plane after the conversation, I could almost hear Him laughing and saying, "See what happens when you assume!" My dad always taught me and my sister to plan for the worst and expect the best, but over the years it's become apparent that I plan for the worst and expect the worst. In theory, I believe that all people are good (at least, that's what I choose to believe). Along the same lines, I try to expect that goodness, but as it turns out, I've got a ways to go. Luckily, I'm only nineteen; I have time.
Friday, March 8, 2013
The Wesley Blog
Starting this upcoming Monday, the members of YAC and other Wesleyites are going to be embarking on a new and exciting voyage: The Wesley Blog! Yes, that's right, the Wesley Foundation of William & Mary officially has a blog. Monday through Friday, a different member of YAC will post, and every Saturday we'll invite a special guest writer (a fellow Wesleyite) to make a post. The schedule is as follows:
Monday -- Marni
Tuesday -- Andrew
Wednesday -- Jannette
Thursday -- Rachel
Friday -- Cara (also known as, me!)
Since I'm going to be posting on Fridays, I thought today would be the perfect day to formally announce the blog. It'll basically revolve around faith in college and our individual faith journeys, but since I'm the Discipleship chair on YAC, I'll probably also talk a lot about the different service projects and mission trips we're doing. Service is important to my faith, in any case, so it works! Anyway, starting this Monday, be sure to check back at this link regularly for what's sure to be an interesting adventure!
Monday -- Marni
Tuesday -- Andrew
Wednesday -- Jannette
Thursday -- Rachel
Friday -- Cara (also known as, me!)
Since I'm going to be posting on Fridays, I thought today would be the perfect day to formally announce the blog. It'll basically revolve around faith in college and our individual faith journeys, but since I'm the Discipleship chair on YAC, I'll probably also talk a lot about the different service projects and mission trips we're doing. Service is important to my faith, in any case, so it works! Anyway, starting this Monday, be sure to check back at this link regularly for what's sure to be an interesting adventure!
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
On My Mind: Books I Like - March
As a continuation of last month's On My Mind, I've decided to review the books I've read each month. Unfortunately, I read a lot of books, so this may be a more-than-once-monthly sort of thing, but let's see how it goes.
1. Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. Also Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith. Also Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers. I like Anne Lamott. She's pretty cool. You should read her stuff.
2. Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen. I really didn't enjoy this book half as much as I would have liked to. Rhoda Janzen loves potty humor, which isn't my taste at all, and I thought she was extraordinarily ungrateful, unfair, and judgmental towards her family. Her parents took her in without a second thought after being divorced and recovering from a bad accident, and as thanks, Rhoda turned around and wrote a memoir that makes fun of her parents every other sentence. I definitely don't recommend this book.
3. Evolving in Monkey Town by Rachel Held Evans. As suspected, I loved her first book almost as much as A Year of Biblical Womanhood. If you haven't read either, please do. Need I remind you, she is awesome.
4. Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy by Donald B. Kraybill. I highly recommend this book. I recently wrote a post that talked about this book more. If you're interested, check it out.
5. Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert. This is her follow-up to Eat, Pray, Love, and I personally loved it. I never like a movie better than the book it's based on; however, I did really like the actor who played Elizabeth Gilbert's love interest in the film adaptation. Javier Bardem is so talented--seriously, compare him in Eat, Pray, Love to Skyfall or No Country for Old Men and you'll know what I'm talking about. I may or may not have bumped this book to the top of my to-read list because of his character (who is a real person, of course, because it's a memoir, but I still pictured him as Javier the whole time).
6. Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith by Jon Krakauer. My sister recommended this one to me. It's about Mormon fundamentalists and one such man who believed he was called by God to murder a woman and her child. My only experience with Mormon fundamentalists was on the show Sister Wives, so I wasn't expecting all the violence (despite the fact that the word "violent" is in the title). To be honest, it freaked me out, because the power of suggestion means everything to me, so I'm now waiting for someone to break into my home and kill me in my sleep. Read with caution.
7. The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. I love love love Brennan Manning, and I can't wait to read more books by him. Although he picks his words carefully, he picks his words truthfully, even if it means making himself look bad. It's real, and it's inspiring, and you should read it.
8. Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. I like this guy. Did you know he and J.R.R. Tolkien were friends? I can just picture them having tea and crumpets in England and having a jolly old time. But seriously, I'm really enjoying my C.S. Lewis' Signature Classics. Two down, five to go!
My mom and I went to Half-Price Books yesterday, and I went on the best book-buying spree. I got a copy of the Gnostic Gospels, the Book of Mormon, a really nice translation of the Koran, the Book of J, Harper's Bible Dictionary, one of the Dalai Lama's books, and John Howard Yoder's The Politics of Jesus. I'm seriously the biggest nerd ever. I'm so cool.
1. Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. Also Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith. Also Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers. I like Anne Lamott. She's pretty cool. You should read her stuff.
2. Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen. I really didn't enjoy this book half as much as I would have liked to. Rhoda Janzen loves potty humor, which isn't my taste at all, and I thought she was extraordinarily ungrateful, unfair, and judgmental towards her family. Her parents took her in without a second thought after being divorced and recovering from a bad accident, and as thanks, Rhoda turned around and wrote a memoir that makes fun of her parents every other sentence. I definitely don't recommend this book.
3. Evolving in Monkey Town by Rachel Held Evans. As suspected, I loved her first book almost as much as A Year of Biblical Womanhood. If you haven't read either, please do. Need I remind you, she is awesome.
4. Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy by Donald B. Kraybill. I highly recommend this book. I recently wrote a post that talked about this book more. If you're interested, check it out.
5. Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert. This is her follow-up to Eat, Pray, Love, and I personally loved it. I never like a movie better than the book it's based on; however, I did really like the actor who played Elizabeth Gilbert's love interest in the film adaptation. Javier Bardem is so talented--seriously, compare him in Eat, Pray, Love to Skyfall or No Country for Old Men and you'll know what I'm talking about. I may or may not have bumped this book to the top of my to-read list because of his character (who is a real person, of course, because it's a memoir, but I still pictured him as Javier the whole time).
6. Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith by Jon Krakauer. My sister recommended this one to me. It's about Mormon fundamentalists and one such man who believed he was called by God to murder a woman and her child. My only experience with Mormon fundamentalists was on the show Sister Wives, so I wasn't expecting all the violence (despite the fact that the word "violent" is in the title). To be honest, it freaked me out, because the power of suggestion means everything to me, so I'm now waiting for someone to break into my home and kill me in my sleep. Read with caution.
7. The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. I love love love Brennan Manning, and I can't wait to read more books by him. Although he picks his words carefully, he picks his words truthfully, even if it means making himself look bad. It's real, and it's inspiring, and you should read it.
8. Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. I like this guy. Did you know he and J.R.R. Tolkien were friends? I can just picture them having tea and crumpets in England and having a jolly old time. But seriously, I'm really enjoying my C.S. Lewis' Signature Classics. Two down, five to go!
My mom and I went to Half-Price Books yesterday, and I went on the best book-buying spree. I got a copy of the Gnostic Gospels, the Book of Mormon, a really nice translation of the Koran, the Book of J, Harper's Bible Dictionary, one of the Dalai Lama's books, and John Howard Yoder's The Politics of Jesus. I'm seriously the biggest nerd ever. I'm so cool.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Back in Chicago
It's officially spring break, but ironically, it looks like I'm taking a break from the spring. No more sunny days in the 50s and 60s in Virginia; instead, it's time for snow and below-freezing weather in Chicago. As much as I say I'm not a winter person, I've missed it. It's good to be home.
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| Our snowy Chicago backyard. |
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