And the time flew.

For the past twenty-two days, I have been soaking in every moment of my third Christmas break as a college student. Tonight I went to watch my little brother's basketball game (and I use the term "little brother" lightly; my baby bro is now several inches taller than me and built like a man). Eight alumni from our high school, including myself, made an appearance at the game. One of them is now a teacher and the basketball coach at the opposing school. Another is married. One of our favorite teachers also holds a position at the other school; she attended the game as well, and a few of us stood in the gym talking to her long after the final buzzer sounded. Being so close to people from the past brought a strange sense of deja vu and nostalgia. It amazes me to think that it has been years since we were all together, and today we rarely contact one another. Yet all of us remain attached by those few years in high school together. We laughed over common memories, shared stories, and discussed our current endeavors. It occurred to me that the thread of familiarity we all felt was not only superficial, but rather the effects of our decisions and journeys years ago have affected one another now. 

And so I wonder - how do my choices today affect the people who are close to me? We may not stay friends forever, but we make an imprint on one another that will never fade. Every conversation, every step, and even every youtube link is another line in our life story that can never be unwritten. It is my desire to guide people always in the right direction, never the wrong. Because some things cannot just be undone. Here is my challenge to myself and to you: Lead others in the path of righteousness. Be a blessing to someone today. You never know how a small ripple on someone's life can lead to a huge wave of change.

As Elphaba wisely says... "So much of me is made from what I learned from you. You'll be with me like a hand print on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have re-written mine by being my friend."

Don't wait to make a difference.

Be Still, My Soul

The weekend before final exams has arrived. Everyone on campus at Cedarville is madly rushing to finish papers and projects, decorating for Campus Christmas, and bustling from Rinnova to the computer lab to their dorm room and back again. OneVoice ensemble has taken the weekend off; we are in Cleveland this weekend to perform at Parkside Church's Christmas concerts. We left yesterday (Thursday) afternoon and will be here until after the final concert on Sunday night. At first, I was disappointed to miss out on all the campus events - Christmas open dorms, story time with Dr. Brown, and the annual Elf party that my friends and I started freshman year. Part of me still wishes that I were there on campus, participating in all the hub and bustle. But not all of me. Here's why.

As a college student, noise is inescapable. There are people everywhere - in the dorms, in campus buildings, in the cafeteria. The opportunity to sit and enjoy stillness is marred by the constant noise, cramped space, and busy schedules. Don't misunderstand; I love to have fun. And so far on this trip, we have had a lot of fun. We've sung at the top of our lungs, laughed until our stomachs hurt, danced like morons, and may have even pulled a prank or two. But right now, I am sitting in a quiet house curled up in a cozy armchair enjoying peace and quiet for the first time in a long time. And it feels so good. 

As with nearly all aspects of life, balance is key. A time to mourn, a time to laugh, a time to speak, and a time to stay silent, says Solomon in Ecclesiastes. We need both. And we live in a culture that takes pride in busyness and scorns rest. We must be constantly doing, constantly being entertained. Rest is equated with laziness; silence is seen as boring. 

In Scripture, God commanded his people to take a Sabbath every week. The Sabbath provided them with day to focus on the Lord and refresh their mind and body for the week ahead. We have forgotten the concept of Sabbath and replaced it with a need to do more, see more, experience more. But is more always better, or is better better? I challenge you to take a day to rest, reflect, and refresh. Learn how to enjoy silence without becoming restless. Because in those still, quiet moments... God shows up.

"Be still, and know that I am God." -YHWH, Psalm 46:10.

Be still, my soul.

Too Much: A Story Of Americans & Their Politics

Okay, okay. I know what most of you are thinking. Why is Michelle writing a post about politics? She doesn't know anything about politics! And you may be right. Government and economics were not my strongest high school subjects, and I would much rather watch Monday night football than a Monday night presidential debate. I have limited the time I spend immersed in politics because, frankly, they have never affected me. Please do not misunderstand me; my family felt the stretch of the falling economy just like everyone else. For my entire senior year of high school, my dad worked at an office three hours away from our home because his in-town company went bankrupt. My mom, brother, and I were left by ourselves for days at a time. My mom went back to work, so my grandparents had to pick us up from school. We started buying generic brand Honey Nut Cheerios and Big K soda instead of Coca-cola. Despite all the drama surrounding the last few presidential elections (remember the "If Obama gets elected, I'm moving to Canada" proclamations?) But lo and behold, the time has already rolled around for the next election and I'm doing just fine. Life has been a little tougher. But I'm still breathing. I still have my family, and there is still food on the kitchen table. I'm over halfway finished with my college education. And before you object, ("But Michelle, not everyone still has those things! Some people have lost their houses and can't find work. Some people's lives have been turned upside-down!")… Yes, I know. I told you I would share my personal explanation for my lackadaisical feelings about politics. But another reason that I avoid politics is because the manipulation, deceit, and drama wrapped up in American politics frustrates and irritates me. We worship a presidential candidate, realize he’s made some pretty outrageous mistakes (or just things that we don’t like), and begin to tear him apart and wonder why we ever thought he was the good guy. Why? Is it because every man that America elects is a selfish jerk with a hidden agenda? Give Americans a little more credit than that. I would like to explore the possibility that perhaps the reason for out dissatisfaction and dramatics surrounding American politics lies at a deeper level. Maybe our senators, Congressmen, and President are not the entire problem. Maybe it's us.

Nothing annoys me more than to read countless news stories about bills "designed to fail" or the Republicans' and Democrats' umpteenth refusal to compromise. Honestly, aren't we all fighting for the same side? Let's step back a little bit and look at what actually fighting for. The United States already has benefits than many countries around the globe only dream of. We have freedom of speech, press, and religion built right into our Constitutional structure. Most Americans wake up every morning in a warm bed and flip a switch to turn on the light and another one to turn on the faucet. They walk downstairs and can choose whether to throw down a bowl of cereal or be ambitious and make Belgian waffles with a ham and cheese omelet on the side. And if something goes wrong in the morning, no worries; they will just stop at one of the six Starbucks they pass on their way to work for a muffin and venti macchiato. But I digress. Essentially, American politics are all about preserving these benefits, right? But what about the Americans who work hard for a minimum wage labor paycheck seven days a week and come home to their trailer with a sore back, craving a good meal but finding only Spaghettios and half a jar of peanut butter in the cupboard? What about the Americans who sleep in a cold dark alley because the police kicked them out of the deserted playground with the plastic tubing (perfect for breaking the wind and taking the edge off of the cold). How do those people fit in our picture of "preserving the American dream"?

The point I am trying to make is that Americans (myself included) are addicted to things. Stuff. Money. Goods. We’re a bunch of flaming materialists, if you will. We are also addicted to success. Power. Being number one. Feeling good about ourselves. If either of these things are taken away, we fall apart. We freak out. And we vote for the next politician who promises us more money, more success, and more power. The common excuse – ahem, reason – given is, "I just want to provide a good life for my family." All right, fine. Let's examine a good life. According to American values, a good life promises financial security. We don't all have to be "filthy rich," we say. We just want enough to get by comfortably. The problem is that the bar labeled "getting by comfortably" rises with each pay increase. Worn, out-of-style clothes from Goodwill (or the clearance rack at Target) are enough for low-income families to "get by comfortably." But for a CEO, only designer suits are enough. For a low-income family, a track phone from Wal-mart with pay-as-you-go minutes is enough to "get by comfortably." But richer families pay up to $100 every month for smart phones with email, weather, Facebook, Twitter, GPS, and everything else imaginable (There's an app for that! ...). Having a good life used to be defined by happiness through helping others and developing meaningful relationships. I’m pretty sure there’s no app for that.

Like I said, I'm not a politician (nor do I ever plan to be). But what I observe in the political ring are Americans stepping on top of other Americans to get to the top. I see a Republican senator refusing to vote in favor of a bill because (heaven forbid) a Democrat proposed it. I see another congressman voting against a bill that will save millions of lives simply because it will hurt his chances of reelection. American politicians, just like American voters, are addicted to power and money. As a result, voters worry about which candidate can do the best for them rather than thinking of Americans living on the other side of the American dream. I don't remember the concept of "loving your neighbor" including a clause that says "as long as I maintain my [social status] [financial security] [power].” Whatever happened to "one nation, under God, indivisible: with liberty and justice for all"? Americans have too much and are drawn to politicians who also have too much. We like to have too much. Because when we have too much, we don't even have to think about those who have too little.

Ignorance Is Bliss: The Women of the Streets

The other night, I had dinner with some urbanite friends (for non-Cedarvillians... other students who have/are taking Intro to Urban Ministry here at CU). The instructions for the dinner were simple - reflect on a video we had watched in class that day about prostituation and trafficking of young girls in our nation's capital, Washington D.C. To provide the most basic background and clear up many inaccurate assumptions made by many Americans, I will tell you that most prostitutes are not women hitting the streets on their own accord to make a pretty penny after hours. Even if a woman's journey begins this way, she will quickly become prey to the streets. She will become the property of a pimp. Pimps do not stay holed up in their houses and wait for their girls to come home; many prowl the streets in order to keep one eye on their girls and the other on new "prospects for the business." If you drive down the track (a term referring to a block known specifically for prostitution) in downtown Washington, D.C. during the early morning hours (by the way, the D.C. track is located only six blocks from the White House), you will see the women working. Sporting short skirts and high heels, you can watch them approach a car and often get inside a few moments later. "Dirty prostitutes," you might think. Think again. There are rules for this game, and the women do not make them.

If you stay just a little longer and look just a little closer, you will realize that much more is taking place on this block than meets the eye. The parked cars along the street are all occupied, either by pimps watching their girls or by Johns "window shopping" for their next buy. You may notice that the women choose to walk on the street rather than the sidewalk. This is one of the rules of the game; if a pimp is close by, the women are not permitted to walk on the sidewalk. They are forced into the street, giving them nowhere to hide if an danger (or a police car) happens upon them. If you look a little closer at the women, you will notice girls hidden among them. Girls, a few as young as eleven or twelve years old, don sparkly pants and heavy makeup and "work." Would you say that they work the streets by choice? No. They started off wanting someone to love them and protect them, and a pimp manipulated them into their current circumstance. So let me ask you; what do you think of these women now?

Back to the dinner table. The question on our minds was, "How can the church help?" An obvious precursory question was, "Why isn't the church helping already?" Is it because we have become too afraid that "those sinners" will "pull us down to their level"? Since we have the Holy Spirit (the ultimate victor) guiding our choices, this argument becomes invalid. What about "We just didn't know"? I would sincerely like to question Why not?? Why is the church not readily involved in rescuing these women? Why are we not leading the charge in saving these girls from a life of exploitation and abuse? At the risk of either rambling and losing your attention, or asking too many questions and making you feel guilty, I'll move on. But realize that this issue (and others like it) are not just going to go away. And when we face the God of the Heavens on judgment day, I would be ashamed to say, "I'm sorry, Lord. I just didn't know."

OV @ Grove City

Since most of my blog posts are all about OneVoice, it only seemed fitting to write one about our trip today (and also about life in general). Today, the OneVoice ensemble and the band (#OVEAB, of course) drove to Grove City. Not Grove City, Pennsylvania. Grove City High School. And not the one from Princess Diaries. Grove City Christian School in Grove City, Ohio. After driving 50 minutes in a completely full 12 passenger van, successfully avoiding the flooded portions of the country roads, and driving around the building for another 10 minutes trying to find the right entrance, we made it. Being there reminded me of my high school days, with the facilities kicked up about six notches. Grove City is an average sized Christian school attached to a fancy-schmancy church that looks more like a museum than a church in certain places. Talking to the students brought back tons of my own private Christian school memories... wearing uniforms, hanging out in the hallways, and being really excited to get to college but sad about leaving high school friends behind. I really like high schoolers, which is probably good, since I'm working on a high school teaching degree. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about where God will take me after I finish at Cedarville... because right now, I have absolutely no idea. But I know that I miss hanging out with teenagers. They're pretty cool sometimes :)

Urban Muse

This past semester, I have learned things (like how to calculate the probability of your cousin's twin boys being colorblind), and experienced things (like the delectable taste of a frozen pumpkin spice chai). But none have impacted me as much as the lessons and experiences regarding urban ministry. I have always pictured myself ministering to middle class academia, showing both teenagers and adults thinking they have everything together a much more fruitful way of living. But seeing urban ministry explained and urban ministry in action has changed my thought process about the impoverished and the oppressed. Experiencing the opposite end of urban ministry completely reversed my perspective and opened my mind to a whole new world. And now I find myself burdened for two separate groups of people. Clarity is elusive; the future remains unclear. But I know that I cannot spare even one minute without remembrance; time is short. The harvest is ripe, yet the laborers are few.

33 Minutes.

www.180movie.com

Watch this. It is worth your time.