School's Out!

I have the most glorious feeling about me . . . like the one I had the first week of June for a good 16 years of my life . . . school is over along with all the work and potential stress that can come with it. Because I'm not taking any classes over the summer, it feels like a legitimate summer vacation. All I have to do is work. Isn't it great?!?

Someone asked me what I was going to do to celebrate. I think I'll treat myself to relaxing tonight and watching a movie while I play a few games of Spider Solitaire. Ah, the simple things of life . . .

Soapbox

It seems like Spring and Summer are finally coming to Pittsburgh. It was a little touch and go there for a while, but it seems like the fifty degree days are getting fewer and fewer and we're getting closer and closer to upper sixties/seventies. This means that we are also getting closer to one of my most favorite aspects of the summer season . . . the fruit.

That is why I must step on my blogging soapboax and take the time to vent on a topic that is very near and dear to my heart . . . watermelon.

For many years now, watermelon has been my most favorite fruit. I think many would agree with me. It's juicy and sweet and colorful . . . yes, probably one of God's greatest creations in the Garden of Eden. The one issue that many would hold against watermelon, however, is the work that's involved eating it, getting around the seeds. A few years ago, I may have agreed. After seeing the agricultural answer to this problem, however, I must respectfully object.

In theory, the seedless watermelon would appear to be the best of all worlds. In theory, however, communism works.

These two pictures alone present a perfect, Exhibit A to my point. Just look at the seeded watermelon. It's so big that it cannot fit in the picture, filled with seeds, yes, but with so much more of the sweet, juicy goodness to enjoy. The seedless watermelon . . . well, is there any contest? Why the little sliver of the watermelon is almost the same size as the entire thing!

And the only thing you do have in that slice is the gooey stringy white seeds that everyone agrees are the worst kinds of seeds. When you add to that the fact that this new "fruit" costs 2-3 x's more than the traditional watermelon, it's the final straw.

Which brings me to my next point. Can we really even call the seedless watermelon a fruit? By definition it eliminates itself as being a seed-bearing plant. This oxymoron is the eunuch of the fruit kingdom.

And the truly sad part, is that you can't even find the good ole' fashioned watermelons anymore. The children of this generation won't even know that watermelons ever had seeds. They'll look at old patterns of kitchen wallpapers and ask, "Mommy, what are those black things in those watermelons?" Poor, deprived children.

Whew. I feel better now. It's good to spend so much time thinking about these life-changing issues, huh? :-)

2 Sides of the Coin

For those of you that don't know, I've got this thing for cows. My name means "Wild Cow" in Hebrew, and in middle school I decided that instead of being offended by it, I would embrace the cow and make it "my thing." So, when I came across this cow statue when I visited Salzburg, Austria a few years ago, I just couldn't help myself . . .

If you look at this cow carefully, however, you'll see it has a very special story behind it. Half of it is painted black and the other half is painted brown in honor of an actual cow that was used to save the fortress where it sits on top of the city hundreds of years ago.

The city was surrounded by an army whose strategy was: "surround the fortress until we can starve them out." They did a pretty good job of it, too. The city was down to one last brown cow to eat, but they didn't want to let the attacking army know. So, they proudly marched out the cow on the edge of the fortress one day, showing the army that they were a-ok. The next day, the townspeople took the same cow and painted it black, making it look like a different cow, successfully convincing the attacking army that they had a bountiful supply of food, resulting in a loss of patience on the part of the army. They packed up and went home. The city was saved with a cow.

I was thinking about this brilliant bovine as I have been praying and reading a lot about spiritual warfare over these past few weeks. God has empowered me, as His child, with all the authority that Jesus had, serious power to overcome any attack that could come my way. Power to breakthrough strongholds in my own life or in other people's. And yet, so many times, I think I fall for these pathetic ruses of the enemy, empowered with all this authority and power, and yet packing up and going home because I think I'm overpowered with "all" their resources.

I'm praying that God would reveal to me the Truths of His heart, that I may agree with Him to overcome the enemy and be a part of bringing His Kingdom here on Earth as it already is in Heaven.

Pearls Before Swine

My brother-in-law, Nate, told me about a really interesting article that just ran in the Washington Post a few weeks ago. It's called "Pearls Before Breakfast" and you can read it for yourself here. It's kind of long, but I really think well worth the read.

The paper conducted a little experiment. What would happen, if one of the world's great violinists performs incognito in a metro station before a traveling rush-hour audience of 1,000-odd people? Would anyone stop and listen, recognizing their talent? How much money would they make? Would mass pandemonium ensue if a mob of people clogs up the rush hour traffic, enthralled with the beauty of the scene?

So, they arranged for Joshua Bell to perform, a former child prodigy who is literally one of the world's greatest violin players. The 39 year-old typically plays to sold-out music halls where the cheap tickets go for $100. Not only did Mr. Bell agree to the venture, but he brought with him his own Stradivari, an original from 1713 that is easily worth $3.5 million.

What do you think happened? In the 45 minutes that he played in L'Enfant Plaza, this man who typically makes $1,000/minute to standing-room-only crowds pulled in $32.17 and only 7 people stopped to listen to his brilliant musicianship for more than a minute. Thousands of people were in the presence of genius, given the opportunity to enjoy a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and less than 1% stepped away from their meeting schedules, cell phone calls, and iPods to enjoy it.

I was flabbergasted . . . for a few seconds.

Then I realized that I do it all the time, every day, several times a day, consistently. How often am I in the presence of magnificent sunsets, the melodious songs of birds, and the faces of babies and children who are uniquely created for a moment in time, never before experienced or to be experienced again? How often am I in the presence of the genius of our Creator, the brilliance of our beloved Father, and I simply walk past it, ignore it, or even complain about it? I'm no different than the thousands who walked right past the Maestro in the Metro.

My prayer from the past few days and weeks continues . . . I give the Holy Spirit permission, no, I'm asking Him to please interrupt me. Interrupt my day, my conversations, my schedule, my phone calls, my eating habits, my sleep . . . interrupt as much as He likes to make me aware of His presence, aware of the masterpieces that He's creating each and every day to be enjoyed be each and every one of us.

His music is playing. Take the time to soak it in.

Snow Samantha

This weekend was such a treat! My youngest sister, Samantha, had a leading role in the Children's Theatre production at her school, Grove City College (my Alma Mater, too!). She played the role of Snow White in the show called, Mother Goose, Incorporated, a playful comedy where Snow White is actually a bratty diva, a part that was certainly a stretch for Samantha's usual personality, but one that she played brilliantly.

I wish I could figure out how to upload a video file to this so that you could hear the incredible voice of my sister. Sure, I am a little biased in my review, but truly, the girl blew me away! If we get it up on You Tube, I'll post a link.

I am so proud of the way that she handled this role, but I'm even more proud of the way that she has handled the years up until now. I have watched Samantha persevere through disappointment after disappointment in previous auditions, many times when the final casting decisions just didn't even make any sense. Through it all, however, she trusted in God's leading, letting Him form her character in a way that's even more beautiful than her voice and pretty face. What a joy it was watching everyone else recognize it, too. :-)

Here are a few more pics, of Samantha and her adoring fans, including my other sister, Ashley, and brother-in-law Nate.

Hokie Hope

Seven years ago, I made my first trip to Blacksburg, VA when we moved my sister Ashley into her dorm her freshman year. It was the now infamous, West Ambler Johnson dormitory. . . seventh floor (lots of steps). Ashley very quickly embraced the Hokie community and when she married a fellow Hokie, well, they truly do bleed orange and maroon.

I made several more trips over her five years there (she got her Master's there, too) and I guess I became a Hokie by proxy. I enjoyed going to the games and yes, I too, bought some orange and maroon for my own wardrobe. When I first heard about the tragedy on Monday, it hit me on a very personal level, thinking of my own few times there and of Ashley and Nate's life there. I've been processing it over these past few days and I continue to be really sad and sickened by it all.

I don't have any profound words for those affected by the loss, and most everything that I could say will sound trite and repetitive to what so many others have already said. My prayer in times like these is that God would speak His words of comfort and peace to the grieving in a way better than any one person ever could. May He speak hope in the place of despair and turn mourning to dancing in His perfect time.

Only 16 More!

So I got back from working out tonight. Tried a class for the second time called "Butt Kickin' Boot Camp." The class runs just like it sounds.

It's taught by this instructor that has to have negative body fat. The woman is a workout machine!!!! I knew I was in trouble when my body felt like it was going to collapse from fatigue and she'd say, "You're doing great! Only 16 more to go!" Sixteen?!? Please don't tell me how many more are left if we are anything over three. Ignorance is bliss.

So as I was in the middle of this class, pretty sure I was going to die before the end, and this thought came into my mind, "What kind of sick masochist am I?!?" I choose to subject myself to painful torture, no, I actually PAY money to subject myself to painful torture, then I come back again a second time, and at the end of the whole ordeal, I feel obligated to thank my torturer before I leave.

Sick system, isn't it? And yet, I'll choose to do it all over again tomorrow. Only 16 more to go!

Days of Our Lives

"Like sand through the hourglass . . ."

All right. I confess I've never actually seen the show Days of Our Lives. I know the beginning, though, because I'd hear it when I was little and didn't change the channel quickly enough after The Price is Right. I started thinking about it over these past two days, however. Not so much the soap opera, but more the idea of the hourglass.

My small group over these past several weeks has been doing an in-depth study on the book of Acts and the Holy Spirit. We finished the first unit last night and one of the final study questions asked about our "thirst" for the Holy Spirit. I was convicted that I've been fairly bland in my hunger and thirst for more of the Spirit's power.

See, I reached that place that I hate to admit that I've been before. The place where I'm living my life and doing the "spiritual walk" in such a way that I feel like I've got it all figured out and under control. Jesus and I are great. Reading through the Bible is great. God speaks to me "this way." He will move in our church "that way." And so on and so on living in a dangerous state of spiritual contentment, expecting nothing new but being very pleased with His "predictable" faithfulness.

And that's where the picture of the hourglass came in. When I first entered into a personal relationship with God, or a new season of walking with Him, I remember feeling overwhelmed with the greatness of God. Maybe I was entering into a new challenge in ministry or my life and I didn't know how I would make it, and God reminded me of His character. He showed me that He was so powerful and so incomprehensible and so full of love, that I couldn't even imagine how to begin to grasp who He was.

Then, as I walked through the season, and I experienced His faithfulness and I grew in my knowledge of Him, I felt more mature, perhaps, but also prideful in my victories, like I had now "figured God out." It was as if I started off with this HUGE concept of God (like the shape at the top of the hourglass) and as I moved through the season of challenge, my idea of God mistakenly got smaller (like the shape in the middle of the hourglass).

What He's so patiently reminding me of now is that whatever little I have learned about His character and ways is just that . . . very little. It's as if I've passed through this hourglass shape, thinking I was reaching the end of my season or lesson with Him, only to realize that I had only come through the center and my renewed picture of God is just as big (or bigger) than it was at first (like the bottom of the hourglass shape). The more I learn about Him, the more I realize just how much I have to learn.

I pray for a renewed hunger, vision, and thirst for the Holy Spirit's presence in my life and guidance through each and every moment. I desire to live a life that's a predictably consistent example of His faithfulness and character, but that's unpredictably anticipating a work of God that's beyond explanation. I pray that that is what marks the days of my life.

New Birth

I had the privilege these past two days of teaching a baptism class to a group of kids in our ministry who have expressed interest in being water baptized. I confess that when I wake up in the early minutes of Sunday morning each week, less than spiritual thoughts come to mind as I desperately wish I could just sleep in. Moments such as teaching this class, however, remind me why I'm doing what I'm doing.

I have to say, that I learn more teaching a lesson about baptism than I ever did just by reading about it myself. I learn by teaching and many times from the surprising insights from the kids. They're oftentimes poignant, genuine, and many times, funny.

I had just finished explaining the symbolism of baptism to the kids, standing in the water, going down in it and coming back out being a picture of Jesus standing on the cross, going into the tomb and coming back out alive. Afterwards, one boy asked, "How long will we stay under the water?" I assured him that it would be really quick, in and out. He seemed relieved saying, "Ok. You said that it was like Jesus dying for us and He was in the tomb for 3 days, so I thought . . ."

I can only imagine the kind of joy that John the Baptist had doing this all the time. Do you think he ever struggled building his identity on what he did? I mean, if he changed his job, he's lost his name and then he's just plain old John. Hmmmmmmm. Deep thoughts.

Fish's Mouth

I woke up this morning feeling worse than ever. I tried to sleep off my sickness, felt a little better, and then felt compelled to file my taxes. (That's a great way to feel better, huh?) Yep, I'm officially that girl who waits until the tax deadline to file.

As I was scratching my head trying to find the 753rd form that I was supposed to have (or at least close to it), I thought of how glorious it must have been to be able to pull a coin out of a fish's mouth and just turn that in (Matt. 17:37). No forms. No tax schedules. Just a coin and a fish.

To technology's credit, I do have to say that living in a world with 11 page tax forms made me very happy for online filing and all the extra little helps that they try and provide for procrastinators like myself. :-) I wonder how Jesus would have listed His payment on His tax form: credit card, bank account, check or money order . . . nope. He'd have to check "Other: Fish." How would the IRS have liked that?

Ariel Fan

So I finally got to catch up on blogs today and was ashamed to see that it had been over a week since I had last done so. Bad Leah.

Over these last two days, however, it seems like blogging is the best kind of communication that I have. For the second time in my life, I am suffering from laryngitis, and this seems to be a particularly acute case coupled with various other cold related symptoms. After two days of trying to communicate through whispers, sign language, and writing on signs that I carry around, I decided that I have a whole new appreciation for Ariel. How she ever managed to woo Prince Eric without a voice is beyond me. Sure she had her looks, her pretty face, and we can't underestimate the power of body language . . . but still. :-)

Unfortunately, the time away has not really increased any tendencies towards profundity. I really don't have anything great to say. Maybe when my voice comes back, so will having something good to say.

Literal God

Isn't it funny how literally God can take us sometimes?

I've learned to be very careful about ever saying, "I will never . . ." as well as praying for things like humility. God usually has a funny way of answering those kinds of prayers. And He did just that earlier this week.

I reread my blog entry from Sunday night, especially focusing on my last sentence, "As I venture into this new week, I certainly have a schedule to follow, but tonight I choose to submit it for rewriting, trusting even my seeming disorientation to be guided by One more knowledgeable than I." God took me up on this prayer the next day, and I'm not really sure how I did.

I had just finished working out and walked into a coffee shop to start my work for the day. I was getting in the zone, preparing for productivity. As I went to order my drink, I smiled at a nicely dressed lady headed my way. She smiled back and began talking to me very rapidly, handing me a flyer about an upcoming program at her church about Jesus, open to kids and families and encouraging me to come. It didn't take long for me to glance over the flyer in the midst of her cordial dissertation to see the name of her church, a local Kingdom Hall of the Jehovah's Witnesses.

All I could think was, "I just blogged about this! God, what do you want me to do?!?" And in that moment, as I was desperately asking the Holy Spirit to give me the right thing to say or do or share that would allow me to share the Truth of God's Salvation to this woman, she finished talking and all I could say was, "Thanks."

I know. You wanted some profound testimony of an eternity-altering altercation at a coffee shop. Me too. And all I have is, "Thanks," and a pleasant, "Happy Easter," before she left.

I really prayed during the entire time she was there asking God if there was something more I should do or say, and yet I didn't really sense a leading to do so. Maybe I missed something. Maybe that's all God wanted for that lady in that moment.

Either way, the situation was like a splash of cold water in my face, awakening me to the reality of the world I live in everyday. Every time I enter a coffee shop or gym or grocery store I'm interacting w/ people who are going to spend their eternities apart from God and more often than not, I don't even think about it. I confess that earlier this week, I was spending more time concerned about having enough people staffed in each KiDZ room during the Easter services than I was concerned about the actual people who would come.

I've continued to pray for my Cafe Latte encounter and ask that the Holy Spirit would not let me forget the passions of His heart as I go through the moments, big and small, in each day He gives me.

I Samuel Reflections

Don't you just love it when you're reading the Bible and notice things that you've never noticed before? I was reading in I Sam. 21-24 this morning and had a few questions as I read. Definitely not profound, but thought-provoking at least.

• If you were Ahimelech, running away from a man who has just killed 85 of your fellow priests and family, would you really be comforted by David who consoles him with, "Stay with me; don't be afraid; the man who is seeking your life is seeking mine also. You will be safe with me" (I Sam. 22:23). Somehow it just doesn't speak peace to my soul to think that I'm supposed to be glad about the fact that I'm with the one person this crazy king wants to kill more than me. Must've worked for Ahimelech, though. He stayed.
• The people that came to gather around David weren't exactly the cream of the crop. The NIV describes them as "All those who were in distress or in debt or discontented" (I Sam. 22:2). And yet, it says that David became their leader. Not an easy task to accomplish, inspiring and visioning for a group of men who are coming to you as a last resort of sorts. I pray that God would give me His eyes to see those who come to serve in our KiDZ Ministry or church, that I may be able to see hope and potential even with those that see nothing but despair and distress in themselves.
• I appreciated the dialogue b/w God, David, and David's men in the beginning of ch. 23. God says to do something crazy (fight the Philistines). David's men acknowledge the plan is crazy and want more clarification. God is patient while David clarifies and God simply repeats His instructions. David and his men obey and find victory. It's a very real picture of the risk involved in following God's leadership and His patience in leading us along it.
• I thought David's actions in I Sam. 23:9-13 to be really interesting. David uses the ephod to inquire of the LORD about Saul's actions and God tells him that Saul will come to capture him and the people of Keilah will turn him over. First of all, if you were David, wouldn't you wonder why God just told you to save that place that would now turn you over? Secondly, David heard God's answer of what the people would do, but he didn't just accept it and stay there. He left and escaped. How about this mind-numbing example of God's Sovereignty and our free will?
• Don't you just love that David hung out in some place called the "Crags of the Wild Goats" (I Sam. 24:2)? Doesn't it sound like some place out of a Nickelodeon game show like Guts or Legends of the Hidden Temple?

Questions for God in Heaven, I guess. Unless any of you have any insights . . .

Guided Disorientation

My sister Samantha is home on Easter break and we spent a few moments reminiscing about our trip to Europe almost 2 years ago. It was quite a whirlwind trip (6 cities in 5 countries in 12 days) and was one filled with adventure and delight. We spent a lot of time planning the beginning and end of the trip, but purposefully left the middle of the trip somewhat unscripted, allowing some flexibility in our travel plans, as we weren't quite sure what to expect until we got there.

For example, we had 2 priority cities for this particular trip. Paris (as we had both studied the French language and culture through high school and college) and Salzburg, Austria (as we were both Sound of Music junkies and wanted to relive the movie in the quintessential tourist trap of the city's official "Sound of Music Movie Tour"). I mapped out our arrival in Paris and figured we could take a train ride from central France to Salzburg in just a few hours . . . after all, it was only about 2 inches on the map. It didn't take me long after my first European train ride to realize that even though their train system is infinitely more developed than I'm used to in the U.S., we weren't getting from central France to Salzburg in a few hours.

That's where the adventure of the unknown came in. Reading through the train schedules as best as I could, I constructed a plan of about 8 separate train rides in the context of about 36 hours taking us through Switzerland into the beloved homeland of Fraulein Maria. The plan was flawless. That is until we found ourselves on train ride #6. The crowded car was so packed that we couldn't find a seat. And there we were, holding our bags, standing next to the bathroom, trying to look tough and foreboding to the shady vagrant man who kept walking in and out of the closed quarters, while desperately trying to understand the muffled train schedule announcements in a language that sounded like the speaker was yelling and coughing up a hairball every time he spoke (apologies to the lovers of the German language).

The train stopped somewhat unexpectedly resulting in the seeming thousands of passengers emptying the car all at once, making Samantha and I relieved to finally get a seat. Just when we settled down in our nice seats by the window, the conductor came by, motioning that we leave. We smiled, nodded our heads and said, "Danke" several times, insisting we wanted to stay. It was clear that we didn't have a choice and after a few more moments of "discussion," we found ourselves wandering aimlessly through the train station finding the billions of other travelers, now loading themselves into 7 different coach buses.

The bus was not in my plan. I had never read about a bus and yet I saw we had a choice: insist my plan was correct and refuse to get on the bus or, trust the conductor (and all the other passengers) and find 2 seats on the bus. Samantha and I looked at each other and without much further thought, found ourselves walking towards the bus door, like little lemmings moving en masse to our 18-wheeled chariot.

Until this point everything happened so quickly, that we didn't really have much time to consider the true impact of the unfolding events. About 5 minutes into the ride, I felt a moment of fear, recognizing that we were completely helpless on a bus going God-only-knows-where for God-only-knows-how-long. For whatever reason, however, the fear quickly subsided and we began laughing, uncontrollably, recognizing the bizarre circumstance we were in, and deciding to document our feelings of the moment by taking pictures of our fellow passengers as well as our faces which perhaps best captured our emotions. Once we got over our fear, we sat back and enjoyed a ride through the Alps that to this day is some of the most picturesque and indescribable scenery that I have ever seen.

Maybe our actions were stupid. In retrospect our trip could have gone much differently. That particular day, however, our bus took us to another train that took us directly to Salzburg. While I was reflecting on it tonight, I was struck again with how often I script out my plans for a particular day, week, or year. And while I believe this is an important step, many times I find that my travel agenda is unexpectedly adjusted, altered where I have a choice: insist that my plan is followed, or submit to the new direction of my Conductor, opening myself to the potential of inexplicable surprises and hidden delights. As I venture into this new week, I certainly have a schedule to follow, but tonight I choose to submit it for rewriting, trusting even my seeming disorientation to be guided by One more knowledgeable than I.