Sleep Studying

People poke fun at the idea of sleeping with a book beneath your pillow in the hopes that knowledge will follow the rules of osmosis. But last night really made me wonder if it is possible to learn in your sleep.

I had quite contentedly fallen asleep to the soothing melodies of George Winston. This morning I awoke in some confusion, thinking that all my alarms had gone off, and that I had overslept (which turned out not to be the case). No big deal. No finals today, at least not ones for which I need to study. But as I lay there awake, I began to think about what I had been dreaming about just prior to my awakening.

Someone in my dream had been expounding on Bible verses. I couldn't quite wrap my mind around what he had been saying, though somehow I knew it had been surrounded by some slightly odd circumstances in my dream. It was then that I realized that no longer were the sweet sounds of George Winston reverberating in my ears, but instead the comparatively unmelodious voice of Eugene Prewitt.

A Laodicean Sink

Oh, the virtues of a Laodicean sink. Would that mine were one.

I love washing dishes. No, I'm not just saying that; I really do enjoy washing dishes. There are other chores that I enjoy not so much, but washing dishes is soothing for me. Unfortunately, the sink where I currently reside tends to be either quite cold or scalding hot. This poses a slight problem for rinsing the dishes, and each time, I am faced with a decision-- do I burn my fingers, or do I rinse the dishes in cold water?

I was thinking about this today, and I wondered, am I like my sink? When I speak to people, do the words pouring forth from my lips sear like the Refiner's fire? Do I speak the Truth in boldness that tells of the Source of an unquenchable fire in my soul? Or am I merely spouting the mediocrity of a love growing cold?

Soccer

Soccer boosts my spirits like nothing else. Adrenaline surging through my veins, making my legs shake if I stand still. The extreme satisfaction of making a superb play. The camaraderie. The severe soreness that results from willing my muscles to work just a little harder. It just... words fail me at the moment to describe how satisfying soccer is for me.

Tonight we played so well. It was probably one of the best games I played this year, though I didn't do as well as I would have liked when I played midfield. There were some truly incredible plays by our goalie, Erin, and several others made epic saves as well. Despite the facts that the referees were making biased calls and the opposition was the number one team in the league, I am extremely pleased at the outcome.

The opposing team's record before our game was 25 season goals and no allowed goals in 5 games. While we didn't score any goals, our goalie only allowed 2, and one of those was a penalty kick, which is nearly impossible to block.

I love the satisfaction of a game well played. I am reminded of Paul's analogy of the race we run in this Great Controversy. I'm no runner, unfortunately. But relating it to soccer helps me see more clearly the point Paul was making. In the game tonight, I made some mistakes, I slipped up. But I also pressed on, pushing myself beyond my limits. I made some good plays, worked with my team, and played hard against the opposition. When all was said and done, after the game I was satisfied with my performance, even though I wasn't on the winning end of the game.

In life, I have made mistakes, I've slipped up. I haven't always represented God the way I should. But God has been helping me to press on; I'm learning to allow God to test me beyond what I thought were my limits. I am learning to play hard against the opposition. And I look forward to the day when I will hear God say, "Well played," and I can have the satisfaction of knowing that "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith" by God's grace. 2 Timothy 4:7

I can't wait for that glorious day, that indescribable feeling.

Foolish Heart

I can't remember a time I've felt so.... confused doesn't even come close to describing it. Honestly, the only thing that comes close to describing how I feel is to say that I feel a bit like I imagine Ophelia did just before she went mad.

Yesterday I went to Oakwood University to hear David Asscherick speak for DEEP Sabbath. I enjoyed the experience overall, but Asscherick's sermon was incredible. I've heard it before, actually. But hearing it again was so powerful, and at the end of his sermon, he made an appeal for surrender. I felt impressed to give something up-- something that's been causing me a lot of confusion and distress. You would imagine something like that would be easy to give up; who wants to hold on to something that's causing distress, right?

Foolish heart that I am, I spent the rest of the day taking it right back off the altar. And I knew it too. I just couldn't let go. And I'm still struggling with it this morning. Then I read this post by Matt, and my heart broke for its own obstinacy.

Oh, God. Please forgive this imprudent heart. Give me grace to let go.

Exposed Soles

Cold, rough concrete. At least it's not gravel. With each step, the contact between my soft sole and the hard pavement holds captive in my consciousness the fact that my feet are without protection. It is not long at all before I notice how tender the bottoms of my feet have gotten.

I move to the side and the texture morphs from solid, harsh pavement to a somewhat slimy mesh of earth and grass. The change in terrain does nothing to relieve me of my awareness; the unfamiliar feel combined with the puddles of rain water is too new to my senses.

I wasn't planning to participate in the event on campus, "One Day Without Shoes." A friend asked if I was going to go barefoot for it, and I said no, but when he asked, "Why not?" I couldn't really think of any good reason. Instead, I began to think of reasons why I really should. So here I am, with exposed soles.

To be honest, it's been somewhat of an inconvenience-- the grass and leaves sticking to my feet because of the cold rain, the rough pavement rubbing my feet, feeling guilty for tracking water and dirt on clean floors, and the stickiness of the not-so-clean tile floors. But the continual awareness of my exposure has been worthwhile, because my inconveniences only further prove my privileges. At least I have pavement to walk on instead of hot sand or rocky paths. At least I am in a place with tiled and carpeted floors in buildings.

The whole experience has made me think that maybe it's not such a bad thing to be inconvenienced. It reminds me of how privileged I am, it helps me better relate to those who aren't as privileged, at least in a small way. Then I think of another person who was inconvenienced for the sake of others.

Jesus inconvenienced himself. He lowered himself to living among men. Jesus exposed his soul-- to the harsh, wounding rejection of those he loves, to the pain of life away from the Presence of God. But the end result of Jesus' choice to inconvenience himself was not merely an awareness of his great privilege, or a means of relating to mankind, but rather an opportunity at freedom and a life of privilege for those who are underprivileged and oppressed by Satan's loveless reign.

Pet Peeve

You know how you can never come up with your pet peeves when people ask you about them? Well, I can't anyway. But I remembered one of them yesterday. Forewarning: please disregard the dishevelment of the following thoughts.

It really irks me when older adults refer to the youth as the future of the church. Truly.

It is my firm belief that youth and young adults are not the future of the church, but rather they are the church, right here, right now. Or at least that's how it ought to be in my opinion. Adults wonder and have tried to determine what exactly it is that makes young people leave the church. I don't profess to know the answer, but I think that at least one portion of the multi-faceted cause is that young people are not given any ownership in the church. They are constantly reminded that they are the future of the church, but when exactly is that? When someone turns 25 do they suddenly become part of the church? Or is it 30?

For a good while now, I have had a strong dislike for the recurring theme in the church that the elder generation will one day, at some undetermined time to come, pass the torch on to the youth. Why is it that the young, middle-aged, and elderly can't all be the church together in unity in the present time?

I don't pretend to ignore the fact that in order for that to become a reality young people will have to prove themselves worthy of the name Christian, but that's the same standard to which the older generation also ought to be held. But I really do believe that continuing to ingrain in the minds of the youth that they are the future of the church is disabling to their spiritual leadership.

Don't let anyone think less of you because you are young. Be an example to all believers in what you say, in the way you live, in your love, your faith, and your purity. ~1 Timothy 4:12, NLT