Admittedly, most of my blog post ideas (or is it just blog ideas?) are thought of at work. Like today. I was sitting at the reception desk, innocently manning the phone while the lady of the hour took her break when I was struck right between the eyeballs with a plethora of wishes. Some would label this "The Bucket List" or "25 Things I Want To Do Before I Die". I have no name for it, but if I did, it wouldn' t be any of those. But I did want to share some dreams I have.
1. I would love to ride in a stretched limousine: Hummer version preferably. I want to wind my way through the streets of a huge city, like Chicago or New York; at night with the city lights surrounding me, standing on the leather seats and poking my head out of the sunroof, waving to the people passing by.
2. As many of you know, I'm in love with llamas. I really want to pet one. I'll take this dream a step further and say I want to spend a day at a "llama farm". I want to hug them and fill my camera with pictures. :-) I'd say more, but it'd be redundant.
3. Parasailing, she says with a victorious giggle. Before I croak, I want to experience the thrill and positive horror of being hoisted off the back of a speed boat and lifted sky high. I want my parachute to be a splatter of rainbow colors and I want the entire coast to hear me squealing.
4. After watching movies such as Secondhand Lions, I have the urge to go cantering down the beach on horseback. Of course, in my dreams, I'm graceful and move with the horse, whereas in reality, I'm jerky and almost guaranteed to get an up close view of the sand when I topple off the horse mid-stride. Be that as it may, I'd still like to try.
5. I'd like to spend three or four days visiting Disney World, Epcot, and Universal Studios in Orlando. Considering my current location, this wish may not be as difficult to satisfy, but this is where the tricky part comes in. I want to go with a bunch of my closest friends. I want to stay in a five star hotel with a hot tub in the room. I want to be able to order strawberries and champagne (eh, forget the champagne) at 2 am. I want to sleep in a king-size bed with at least four fluffy pillows. The only thing I can think to compare this to is the bed I slept in while in Frankfurt, Germany. Dad, you'll recall that one. :-)
6. I want to go to Jerusalem and kneel at the place where Jesus died. I want to stir the dirt with my hands and be able to cry without a thought of who's watching.
7. Oh, to be able to pack my bags and head to Italy for 8 months. I'd want to get a small apartment in a building which overlooks a courtyard. I want to sit in a street cafe at dusk, sipping espresso and watching the people go by. I want to stand in the middle of the Coliseum arena and spin in circles, taking in the rows and rows of seats. I want to ride on a scooter through the streets of Rome. I want sit in a balcony and paint in Tuscany. I want to go to an Italian opera and relish in the fact that I can't understand a word they're saying, but still understand the beauty of the emotion being expressed. I want to sit across from an old man with a beard, drinking wine and eating cheese while he graciously hands out advice. I want to lay on my back in the middle of the vineyard and stare at the stars. I want to go to the museums and spend hours upon hours gazing at the paintings. I want to go to the Sistine Chapel and witness first hand Michelangelo's masterpiece.
8. I want to go to a Blue October concert and stand in the front row. I want to be able to cry at some of the songs and jump up and down at others. I want to get a guitar signed by them.
So, 8's an odd number to stop at. No one said I was conventional. :-) I'll be adding to this in the future, I can promise you that. May this inspire to chase your own dreams!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Peculiar Curiosity
How in the world do they get the peanut butter inside the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup? Why does hair grow back thicker after you shave? Why is it that two people can eat the exact same thing and one likes it and the other detests it? Seriously, where does your fat go when you lose weight? What makes water so...unique? What really happens when you crack your knuckles? Why do deaths seem to happen in threes? What is the secret to joy? Why do we always wish for something better? Why are the colors richer in a sunset than they are in a sunrise? How come things seem more real in dreams at times than they do in waking hours? Why do we, as humans, need companionship? What is it that makes the smell of an upcoming rain storm so utterly irresistible? How does the Internet really work? Are we naturally bad and work at being good or are we naturally good and the world makes us bad? Why does God take such an interest in us? Why do we keep ignoring Him? Why don't we treat others the way we want to be treated? So, the answer to most of these question is "Well, Beka, we live in a bad, bad world. It won't be better until Jesus comes again." That could be true. In fact, it probably is, but I did want to send these questions out into cyberspace.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
The Wake Up Call
It was Thursday. Monday for me, but Thursday for those who adhere to a "normal" work schedule. I was once again desperately trying to ward off a horrific case of sleepiness with a strong dose of coffee. While some of you may scrunch up your nose in disgust and hug your cup of tea tighter to your chest, I will stand by my morning beverage come hell or high water. I unlocked the office door and flopped down at the communal desk. After staring at nothing for a couple of minutes, trying to process the fact that I was indeed meant to be productive, I noticed a copy of Newsweek laying on the keyboard. On the cover, in the shape of a cross, were the words, "The Decline and Fall of Christian America." Coffee forgotten and suddenly very awake, I was immediately up in arms. How dare they! I shrieked in self-appointed righteous anger to no one in particular. Christianity is not dead in America! Get your facts straight! Harumphing with a vengeance, I snatched up the magazine and began tearing through the pages, daring the right article to pop into view. It did. My brow was furrowed and my mouth curled in a snarl as I skimmed the printed words. In all fairness to the write of that particular article, I don't think I read it very well...and certainly not with an open mind. But it made me think long and hard about where our nation is at today and what I've done personally to help or hinder that downhill progression.
About twice a year, in order to add a little perspective to my life, I'll pick up a book by Randy Alcorn called "Safely Home". This book was introduced to me while I was a missionary kid in Nigeria. Being completely consummed with myself and whether or not I was following the latest fashion trends, I paid it little mind. I heard fellow missionaries say over and over. "Wow, what a fantastic book!." or "I cried so hard at the end, I choked." or "How I wish I could have the view of Quan." If you've never read this work of Alcorn's, I highly recommend, but in difference to you, I shall not spoil the story by yakking about it incessently. The theme of this book is the persecuted church. I have always been interested in the persecuted church, but have never gone so far as to do anything tangible to help those in distress and I've always quaked in fear at the thought of actually having to endear what some of my brothers and sisters in Jesus go through. Even after I'd read Safely Home a couple of times, the idea of the persecuted church was, for me, something to pray for, but never something that hit close to home. It happened in far away countries, not America. It happened under foreign dicatators, not our President. It was physical and mental agony experience by people who's names I couldn't pronounce, not Betty down the street. It was unfamiliar. And I laid awake thinking, Thank you, God.
"The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church." It is stated in Safely Home and illustrated in the form of a man who threw a glass to the ground and, in frustration, stomped on all the pieces, until the shard became like powder- strewn in a wide circle. The man was, at the time, unable to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but used this demonstration as his sermon. The believers in the crowd understood the actions while the unbelievers were mystified: the glass was the church; the man represented those persecuting the bride of Christ. Even though "stomping on the church" seemed to produce an awful result, the pieces were spread. The Gospel of Jesus was brought to places perhaps it wouldn't have been brought before had not those who claim Him as their Savior been persecuted. Those of you who know me at all know that I can not abide the idea of torture. I can't wait it on TV, I can't read about it, and I certainly don't want to listen to it. Yet, I am fascinated by the dedication of those who undergo it. I abhorr the idea of physical pain- whatever the cause. But the things I've read and see on TV done to those who believe in Jesus make my stomach turn. And those suffering don't capitulate. They stand firm. It makes me wonder if there isn't something to be said for undergoing such testing. I firmly believe that those who are allowed to pass through such rough waters have a much more deep and meaningful relationship with God than any of us who live the "cushier" lifestyle. I hold to the theory that because of their earthly pain (be it mental, physical, or emotional), Jesus meets them in a very special, very real-almost tangible-way.
America boasts of freedom: freedom of speech, freedom of religion, free thinking, etc. But with all this freedom comes the danger of unusually high levels of apathy and ingratitude. We take advantage of the various churches, sometimes two or more on a street. We take for granted the Wellspring of Life, because we've never been seriously dry. We are just so unaffected. Our bubble spreads from New York to California. And heaven help the person who pops it. Sure, small doses of reality creep in now and then in the form of convicting sermons or atrocities in the News, but our lives as a whole are untouched by thing, events, or people that make us lay face down in the dirt and choke out Jesus' name in pure desperation. We don't rely on Him because we don't have to. We have computers, televisions, cars, freedom of worship, right, a democracy, and a roof over our head. Now, before I get scathing replies, let me say that I am not saying all those things are bad. There aren't. Not by themselves. But the complacency, laziness, and general apathy they foster is. I'm not suggesting that we form house churches, sit on the cement floor, and pray for 6 hours (although serious prayer is a MUST). I am suggesting that we shake the dust off our heads and focus on why we're really here. Our persepctive is shotty. And I think its due to the fact that we don't face much persecution here in the United States. Is it easy to pray for harder times? No! Do we want to be uncomfortable, unsettled, and suffere? Of course not! But, I do think that price would be well worth paying if it brought us to a right relationship with God. What is a right relationship with God? Sounds boring, if you ask me. Great Caesar's Ghost, no. What could be more exciting than seeing the face of Jesus? What could thrill you more than being able to walk towards His throne and have Him wrap His arms around you? What could tingle more than walking hand in hand with your Maker and having Him say "Well done!"?
Is Christianity in America dead? By no means! Is it well on its way to becoming dormat? I think we've reached that point. We, as believers in Jesus, need to stand up, stretch, and joyfully do the work He has for us which is bringing in the Harvest. By adhering to the true Gospel and clinging to His teachings, we are allowing Him to flourish in this desert. It is my prayer that America will shake off her drowsiness and rise up to take her place as a nation chosen by God.
About twice a year, in order to add a little perspective to my life, I'll pick up a book by Randy Alcorn called "Safely Home". This book was introduced to me while I was a missionary kid in Nigeria. Being completely consummed with myself and whether or not I was following the latest fashion trends, I paid it little mind. I heard fellow missionaries say over and over. "Wow, what a fantastic book!." or "I cried so hard at the end, I choked." or "How I wish I could have the view of Quan." If you've never read this work of Alcorn's, I highly recommend, but in difference to you, I shall not spoil the story by yakking about it incessently. The theme of this book is the persecuted church. I have always been interested in the persecuted church, but have never gone so far as to do anything tangible to help those in distress and I've always quaked in fear at the thought of actually having to endear what some of my brothers and sisters in Jesus go through. Even after I'd read Safely Home a couple of times, the idea of the persecuted church was, for me, something to pray for, but never something that hit close to home. It happened in far away countries, not America. It happened under foreign dicatators, not our President. It was physical and mental agony experience by people who's names I couldn't pronounce, not Betty down the street. It was unfamiliar. And I laid awake thinking, Thank you, God.
"The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church." It is stated in Safely Home and illustrated in the form of a man who threw a glass to the ground and, in frustration, stomped on all the pieces, until the shard became like powder- strewn in a wide circle. The man was, at the time, unable to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but used this demonstration as his sermon. The believers in the crowd understood the actions while the unbelievers were mystified: the glass was the church; the man represented those persecuting the bride of Christ. Even though "stomping on the church" seemed to produce an awful result, the pieces were spread. The Gospel of Jesus was brought to places perhaps it wouldn't have been brought before had not those who claim Him as their Savior been persecuted. Those of you who know me at all know that I can not abide the idea of torture. I can't wait it on TV, I can't read about it, and I certainly don't want to listen to it. Yet, I am fascinated by the dedication of those who undergo it. I abhorr the idea of physical pain- whatever the cause. But the things I've read and see on TV done to those who believe in Jesus make my stomach turn. And those suffering don't capitulate. They stand firm. It makes me wonder if there isn't something to be said for undergoing such testing. I firmly believe that those who are allowed to pass through such rough waters have a much more deep and meaningful relationship with God than any of us who live the "cushier" lifestyle. I hold to the theory that because of their earthly pain (be it mental, physical, or emotional), Jesus meets them in a very special, very real-almost tangible-way.
America boasts of freedom: freedom of speech, freedom of religion, free thinking, etc. But with all this freedom comes the danger of unusually high levels of apathy and ingratitude. We take advantage of the various churches, sometimes two or more on a street. We take for granted the Wellspring of Life, because we've never been seriously dry. We are just so unaffected. Our bubble spreads from New York to California. And heaven help the person who pops it. Sure, small doses of reality creep in now and then in the form of convicting sermons or atrocities in the News, but our lives as a whole are untouched by thing, events, or people that make us lay face down in the dirt and choke out Jesus' name in pure desperation. We don't rely on Him because we don't have to. We have computers, televisions, cars, freedom of worship, right, a democracy, and a roof over our head. Now, before I get scathing replies, let me say that I am not saying all those things are bad. There aren't. Not by themselves. But the complacency, laziness, and general apathy they foster is. I'm not suggesting that we form house churches, sit on the cement floor, and pray for 6 hours (although serious prayer is a MUST). I am suggesting that we shake the dust off our heads and focus on why we're really here. Our persepctive is shotty. And I think its due to the fact that we don't face much persecution here in the United States. Is it easy to pray for harder times? No! Do we want to be uncomfortable, unsettled, and suffere? Of course not! But, I do think that price would be well worth paying if it brought us to a right relationship with God. What is a right relationship with God? Sounds boring, if you ask me. Great Caesar's Ghost, no. What could be more exciting than seeing the face of Jesus? What could thrill you more than being able to walk towards His throne and have Him wrap His arms around you? What could tingle more than walking hand in hand with your Maker and having Him say "Well done!"?
Is Christianity in America dead? By no means! Is it well on its way to becoming dormat? I think we've reached that point. We, as believers in Jesus, need to stand up, stretch, and joyfully do the work He has for us which is bringing in the Harvest. By adhering to the true Gospel and clinging to His teachings, we are allowing Him to flourish in this desert. It is my prayer that America will shake off her drowsiness and rise up to take her place as a nation chosen by God.
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