If God is For Us

"For those God forknew He also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those He predestined, He also called; those He called, He also justified; those He justified, He also glorified. What then, shall we say in response to this?

If God is for us, who can be against us?

He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all - how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?"

Romans 8:29-31

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Sometimes, it feels like the world is out to get you. Nothing's right, and nothing seems to be able to fix your problems. Not even the Bible seems to work and God seems far off - and far too big and busy to care about your petty little life. People can be mean, and life is not easy. Hobbes says it best: "Life is nasty, brutish, and short" - Leviathan

DEEEEEEEPRESSING.

When the world stacks up against you, though, it's great to know God is in fact very vested in your daily stuggles - and that everyone hated Him long before conceiving you was even a thought.

"If the world hates you, keep in mind it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do NOT belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. This is why the world hates you." - John 15:18-19

Ohhh, so THAT'S why the world hates me! Duh :) I like how blatant God is sometimes.

If God is for us, who can be against us?

"Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save" - Psalm 146:3

"The LORD is a warrior; the LORD is His name" - Exodus 15:3

This part of the semester really sucks, especially when at MLC we're all like a DAY away from Easter freedom and a brief reprieve before the slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am of the end of the year, but don't lose hope! If God is for us, who can be against us? He's fighting for you. AZ reminded me today,

"I have loved you with an everlasting love" - God, Jeremiah 31:3

God's great. He'll help you conquer your foes today, no matter what face or form they take. We song a song sometimes at Camp that comes to mind now:

"Hey! You!

Get outta my way!

You ain't gonna make me sin today! I said

"Hey! You!

Get outta my way!

You ain't gonna make me sin today!

Because I've got the power of Jesus!

Flowing in my spiritual blood

And now that He has redeemed us

It'll be an overflowing spiritual flood"

Subsitute "you" with whatever sin or worry or stressor is dragging you down today. He'll fight for you; He promises. If God is for us, who can be against us today???

One Year!

What a difference a year makes! Last year I lived in Madison, WI, in 410 Luedtke Slichter, I spent my time with lattes in coffeeshops poring over my dog-eared edition of the complete works of Shakespeare, and I rode my bike everywhere. I lived with a girl who loved dogs more than people and I ate quesadillas for dinner nearly every night. A year and 350 miles of distance later, while I still wonder if my new roommate loves dogs more than people, everything else is different. I live in Minnesota, I spend my time almost exclusively on campus with friends poring over the Bible as a textbook, every night I can look forward to eating some caf surprise or another with a loving group of people, and my feet are more than sufficent to get me where I need to go. (Except for McDonald's, we use Baby to go to McDonald's...)


Today, Sunday April 17th, 2011 is the one-year-versary of me deciding to transfer to MLC! Coming here has been by far the biggest decision I've ever made in my life, and it's a neat retrospective view 365 mere days later - and a true testament to how God operates for the best. I'm feeling reflective.

What was your life like exactly a year ago today?

On April 17th, 2010, I woke up early to go to a farmer's market in Madison with some dear friends. The night before I had talked seriously with a friend about transferring and he had me pretty darn convinced that staying in Madison was a far superior idea than transferring to MLC. I had hemmed and hawed and tossed and turned and spent most of the night of April 16th wide-eyed in bed, staring at my ceiling and hoping it would give me some answers.

In the morning, none had come. If you've never been to the Saturday morning farmer's market in Madison, you definitely should go sometime, especially in the spring. This particular spring morning was full of sunshine and promise, with tulips waving on the Capitol lawn and the air thick with the smell of cheese bread. After a quick stop at Starbucks on State to see NM and grab a soy chai latte, I met up with my friends and started perusing the berries and flowers and necklaces and vegetables and... the more I walked around, the more I thought to myself "Yeah! Katie, c'mon now, look where you get to go to school! Isn't this such a priviledge? Isn't this such a joy? If you were accepted here you're definitely supposed to go to school here; don't be delusional. He was right, stay in Madison."

The whole time, two of my friends were walking ahead of me and arguing amongst themselves about whether or not I should actually transfer schools. Their opposing viewpoints were the verbalized thought cycles I had been running cagedly through for 3 weeks since a TCW trip to Arizona where the idea to transfer originated; their words were like a heated ping pong tournament. Zing, zing, zing, zing, what to do? Stay or go? This decision was going to have major implications on nearly every aspect of my life - who my friends would be, what profession I would acquire for life, potentially my future husband - heavy stuff. That was one conflicted day at the farmer's market.

After awhile it was time to head back to Slichter and my daunting pile of afternoon homework, so I said goodbye and started the 35 minute walk back to my dorm. It was weird, but as I walked back I felt farewell in the air. I walked by all the old familiar spots - the Terrace, the piers where I would sit and journal, Helen C White Library, up and over Bascom, and finally a mosey down Observatory to the building I called "home" for two years. All these thoughts were still swirling, swirling, swirling, and I had never felt more confused in my whole entire life. When I got up to my room I found a rare situation - my roommate who almost perpetually was in the room was gone for the afternoon and I had some unexpected free alone time. I sat down and asked out loud, "I have to go, right? I'm supposed to go to MLC? Even though Madison is so great?"

No answer; I wasn't even sure of whom or what I was inquiring of. I stood up and asked again, "I have to go to MLC, right?" I started pacing and pacing around our minature carpet.

Pacing.

Pacing.

I finally sat down and said some kind of prayer like "God, this is in your hands, I just am so confused that I really clearly need You to tell me what to do. Tell me what to do, please!" With that I opened my eyes and there on our end table was a piece of paper that was blank and simply said "Yes!" I think it was a memo urging me to vote "Yes!" for Madison's "Big Red Go Green!" campaign or something, but all I saw was "Yes!" and I can't explain it, but I knew right then and there that I had to go to MLC and I would kick myself forever if I didn't. I think that's the feeling I'm going to be looking for someday when I'm contemplating who I should marry: They say when you know, you know, and some day I want to be as sure about my future husband as I was about my decision to come to MLC. I've never had such a feeling of utter knowing-ness; God answered my prayer and made my decision really clear for me.

One year later, I still believe with all the wisdom within me that moving to MLC was the right thing. Every day I wake up excited at the prospect of teaching someday - this choice helped me discover what my true passion in life is. While I miss my friends in Madison terribly, God's led me to awesome people at MLC that I perhaps never would have been fortunate enough to meet this side of heaven, and I know already I always will be grateful for the impact they've had on my life. MC's finally taught me how to assert myself; she's given me some backbone and moreover, she's been a continual source of joy in my life here. CS has taught me about relationships, NW has taught me indirectly how to continually care for someone and love life for what it is, MH has opened my eyes to what genuine kindness is, JH showed me how to be a friend in all circumstances, and DP has taught me more about how to be patient and more about myself than I could have ever expected. One year later, I'm overwhelmed by how blessed I am to have met all of them - and we'd all still be strangers if I was still at Madison. God certainly has a plan!


The musical Rent's hit song "Season's of Love" says, "How do you measure, measure a year? In daylight? In sunsets? In midnights, in cups of coffee? In inches? In miles? In laughter, in strife?" Hah it's a tad cliche, but it's stuck in my head as I'm writing this. I don't know appropriate benchmarks for assessing the success of individual decisions because the sad fact is, humans are shortsighted. Blighted. We can't see past Friday night to quote Brad Paisley, and we're so cemented in the here-and-now that we don't stop enough to appreciate or try to understand how God is working out His will in our lives for His glory and our good. It's just so crazy to look back on past decisions and try and untangle the webs we weave, to analyze and see how little choices like where to go on spring break freshman year or weighty decisions like what profession to take up can have on the entire course of your life. I think that's called the Butterfly Effect if I'm not mistaken? (Which is also the name that movie I still have to see...) It's all way over my head.

Anyway, today I was just feeling reflective and wanted to express my thanks to God and people at MLC and elsewhere that have effected my life. We're all part of a highly complicated adventure that thankfully, is far beyond our control. What a difference a year makes! After a long winter and lots of ups downs, I'm just feeling alive again. Maybe it's spring. Maybe it's contentment. Maybe it's God answering prayers. Whatever it is, I'm optimistic.

THIS SONG PERFECTLY SUMS UP EVERYTHING!!!! LITERALLY EVERYTHING! I hear ya, Sara Evans.

God's got plans. Aren't you excited to see what He has in store for you?

"Cast your bread upon the waters, and after many days you will find it again" -Ecclesiates 1:11


Also - HAPPY ONE YEAR TO MY BEST FRIENDS, SG AND BH!!!! What a year, hey?

Habitual Blogging

Hey.

So.

Um.

I haven't blogged for 3 months?

I didn't even remember my password to log on here. I feel like a tool. I'm also fighting the urge to apologize and justify the reasons why I haven't written but that's a) boring and b) there's already stuff in here about that so I'm going to cut the crap and tell you some things!

I'm working at Camp Phillip again this summer! I was rather undecided this fall about whether or not I should return to camp for a motley crew of reasons, but I'm going back after all. This year instead of counseling and life guarding I'm the part-time photographer, office worker, staff assistant(ish), and blogger! It'll be interesting to work at such a familiar place with such an unfamiliar role. 43 days! I figured if I'm blogging all summer I should warm up a bit - get back into the habit?

I've thought a lot lately about habits. Good or bad, it's really hard to break them because they're so ingrained in us. I had to break a good habit lately rather abruptly, and it's been tough. When you're so completely used to living one way, to totally change routines and break up comfortable stability is no easy task. It's not fun. It's far more akin to hell. I heard once that to make sure a new habit sticks, you have to practice living that habit for 30 days. That's what I'm trying to do at least - we'll see if that's true! If it's a tough habit to break, I have a feeling it takes more than 30 days, and you'll probably always have a tendency to go back to old ways. Speaking of habits, if you're looking for a GREAT book to read, try "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People" by Stephen R. Covey. It's one of my favorite books I've ever read because it's so darn applicable to everyday life. Reading-wise I've been on a huge non-fiction kick this semester. I read this for the first time when in high school I got the teen version of this book as a birthday present, and even though I think a majority of "self-help" books pander to laziness and selfishness, this one is great. The premise is that people who are successful in any aspect of life all seem to inherently follow these 7 habits:
1. Be proactive
2. Begin with the end in mind
3. Put first things first
4. Think "Win-Win"
5. Seek first to understand, then be understood
6. Synergize
7. Sharpen the Saw (Soul time)

I think aside from the Bible, this is the book that has contributed the most to my personal life philosophy. Good stuff. Check this book out or if you hate libraries for some inconceivable reason, I'll lend it to you. I have to go to work! Good luck with habit breaking or habit up-taking.

This is what the LORD says: "Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls."

Jeremiah 6:16

Apologetic Rambles... Doesn't That Sound Like A Good Band Name?

Hello again. Although in my last post I promised I was going to again return to "regular" blogging, have I failed again? Oh heck yes. I had all of Christmas break to ponder and pen masterpieces and read and reflect and blog... and I watched 7 seasons of Friends, effectively turning my brain into absolute mush. Why do such a thing?

Couple reasons. First of all, I felt that anything I would write would be contrived, preachy, and blase' as of late due to life circumstances. I, the omni-journaler, hardly wrote a word of self reflection over Christmas break. Nary a peep. If you asked me who Katie Strommen was for most of December, I would answer "no clue". Sometimes I just don't write in my journal because it is too plain hard; sometimes waves of emotions are so strong they are better held at bay because to give them ink time on a page would unleash an ocean that would never be satisfactorily defined, never appropriately explored - a writer's worst nightmare is inadequate work. So. I had plenty of things I wanted to journal or blog about, but I was so out of touch with myself that it would have been a bunch of surface-y mumbo jumbo if I tried to express it on here.

Second of all, one of my core personal philosophies is a philosophy of passion. What is life without passion? It's dead. Colorless. Not worth living. Passion gives life meaning, passion makes me get out of bed in the morning, passion and care would fix a lot of problems in the world, and passion is an intrinsic part of belief, (I'm currently speaking from a semi-secular point of view and not necessarily about belief in our Lord and Savior Jesus. Stay with me here.) If I wrote anything just for the sake of writing but I did not believe it, if I did not wholeheartedly think and care about the words I was saying, there would be perhaps more words in more entries on this blog, but they would be totally frivolous at best, and at worst, they would be hypocritical. I think that in this life, you gotta be all in. We only get like 80 years here - live it up! Carpe Diem! Why do anything for the sake of just doing it? Why waste any time? Live, and live to the utmost.

HR told me one time, "Katie, never stop loving hard" and I love that she said that so much I toyed with the idea for 3o seconds of getting it tattooed under my armpit where every other girl seems to be getting tattoos these days. (I won't, my tattoo days are over, never fear...) Love hard. Good motto, right? Love is hard, but only because it is the strongest emotion out of all of them, and that much emotional currency balanced on such a volatile scale seems well poised to inherently do some damage. Anger can blaze, jealousy can worm away your soul, sadness can crush, but love will always conquer these. Never stop loving hard - never stop loving your friends and family hard, never stop loving things you're passionate about (writing) hard, never stop loving who you are hard, and most of all, never stop loving your Jesus hard. To do anything less and go through the motions is hypocrisy, the trait I hate most in life (and sometimes practice the most in life...) Never stop loving hard.

On this topic, have you ever gone on thinkexist.com? I love their quotes on there. With the whole carpe diem-mentality I try and practice, I often look up quotes to reinforce what I'm thinking about, and here are a couple good ones:

"Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for yourself. Act for yourself. Face the truth."

-Katherine Mansfield

"You've got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on in the process"

-Ray Bradbury

This is an incredibly lengthy tangent trying to describe why I haven't written - like I said, I always feel the need to apologize, not only to you but to myself. Oh hypocrite Katie, regular blog posts my butt... :)

A couple other things happened over Christmas that made blogging hard. Most obviously, my Uncle Skip died after a bout with leukemia. He was a strong Christian man so I have no doubt of his hereafter, but events like this always make you feel sorrow for the people left behind. Uncle Skip wasn't really my uncle - he was my mother's cousin - but that side of the family is closer to us Strommen's than the other side of our relations, and the looks on the faces on the three daughters and wife he left behind are enough to make anyone feel bad for awhile. Death always also raises tons of other questions about your own existence as you stare at that polished urn and, with a sucker-punch, remember that urn is all you are. We're only ashes and we're only here for a hair's-breadth of time - why are we wasting our time with pointless quibbles and squabbles about this and that? WHY?! Most importantly, does it not just ASTOUND you that someday you are going to die? Doesn't that absolutely blow your mind? We all live like we have forever, but forever may be up tomorrow. You're going to DIE. I'M going to DIE. Ethel down the street is going to DIE, the grocery clerk is going to DIE, and in 60 years, everyone you are sitting in a classroom with right now with probably be moldering in their graves or at least well on their way there. People stop breathing and we put them in a box and shove it in the ground and then slowly forget about them.

"Most people can do extraordinary things if they have confidence or take risks. Yet most people don't. They sit in front of the telly and treat life as if it goes on forever."

- Philip Andrew Adams

"To die will be an awfully big adventure"

- Aristotle

Life is so weird.

As if that wasn't enough to keep my brain occupied all break, my friend's lives are very dramatic and being home always throws us college students into the midst of potentially very hurtful family dynamics they can avoid whilst at school... throw in family Christmas parties, a WELS College rally, New Years, coffee dates all over Milwaukee, and making time for like 50 people you really want to see before going 7 hours away for another 4 months, and there was hardly any downtime to breathe, not to mention think. Christmas vacation? More like ChristmasSTRESSOUT. Phew. Just thinking about it all again is making me stressed!

Anywho, then I came back to MLC early in January and I'm in my second week of school already, but life has simmered down to a much more manageable pace. Kinda. The same stressors are definitely still there, but just living on your own when you can confront your own issues on your own time and in your own way make things so much more do-able... not having to ask your mom to borrow the car reaffirms that yes, Katie, you ARE an adult and can make your own choices, and that invaluable to me. Pride much? Ahhh, resolutions are calling my name.

So now it's 2011 and I have successfully just rambled on here with no form or structure, just passionate feelings. Normally I like posts to have somewhat of a thesis or overall, unifying theme to them, but for once I thought I'd give the ol' "stream of consciousness" method a try. This is the product. To catch up:
1) I haven't written for over a month because:
a. I wasn't personally reflecting and was not in touch with my personal life
b. I hate when I write things that I do not feel passionately about
2) Passion! Passion in life is grand and great and lovely! Passionless life and just going through the motions is hypocritical.
3) Never stop loving hard.
4) Quotes about risk and life and love!
5) Death is weird and makes you go swim in the well of deep, morbid thought.
6) We're all gonna die
7) Christmas was stressful but I am back at MLC and life is good.

Hmmm yes that's about it. Thanks for dealing with these apologetic rambles. Which leads to the title - band names! Lots of really juxtaposed things make terribly awesome band names. Apologetic Rambles? Or Apologetic Ramble? Awesome name. A couple days ago at lunch we decided "Bloody Lemons" would be a swell metal band. I think "Midnight Trampolines" is a legitimate awesome band name - it's copyrighted here so now you can't use it! I just think it's funny that these days, anything can be band name - "The Stale Pretzels?" Indie. You could go all day. I got a guitar for Christmas and I'm gonna be a big deal in 5 years... so I'm gonna need a great band name. Got any for me?

"But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong" - I Corinthians 1:27

Emma? Or Manuel?

Raise your hand if you love Christmas songs! Cool, I like that you all raised your hands. I love them too... but I don't love them if they are played too soon.

I feel like I notice it more and more every year that Christmas merchandise creeps into shopping malls and window displays earlier and earlier - really, do we need to be looking at men's ties with cheery ornaments on them before we've even gone trick-or-treating? The answer is NO. The same thing is true with Christmas songs on the radio - if you play them before Thanksgiving, it makes us all really sick of them by the time December 25th rolls around. It could even breed resentment in people toward "Jingle Bells" and "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" - which is APPALLING.



The greatest thing for me about Christmas is anticipation. Christmas day in and of itself is a wonderful thing, but I what I appreciate more are how during all the days between now and the blessed 25th, humanity oozes goodwill and peace on earth in a geyser gush that is capped and seemingly locked away in a vault for the rest of the year. Charities get a boost. Families come together for just this one day out of the 365. Tight-fisted pocketbooks spring open. Miracles happen. Lifetime movies happen. Sickening Kay Jewlers commercials happen. While the stress of the season might get some people down, the extra tinsel, Christmas trees, gifts, ice skating, mistletoe, hot cocoa, gingerbread houses, cookies, card-giving, bright-eyed children, and crooning Frank Sinatra carols floating around in the holiday atmosphere of late November-December just warms my soul. I live for the buildup of wrapping presents, cleaning the house, making Dad's Christmas candy in the kitchen, rolling out sugar cookies dough with the siblings, watching "A Christmas Story" and rejoicing yet again when Ralphie gets his Red Ryder BB-gun... I love the anticipation.

Last year in Madison I didn't have the chance to go home until the late evening of the 23rd as an ominous snow storm was creeping over Wisconsin, and there was a very real danger that I would not be home in time for Christmas Eve. Envisioning spending the "most wonderful time of the year" stuck in Room 410 of Slichter hall with not even JH to silently keep me company... it was more than I could bear. I safely made it home, but it was somewhat depressing - I had absolutely no anticipation time.

All the joy of the season for me had been sucked out by incredibly stressful Bio 101 exams and 12 page American Lit papers. Little to no Christmas spirit warmed this girl's non-anticipatory heart. BAM - Christmas Eve and Day flew by in a blur, and while time spent with family and friends devoid of homework cares that so plagued me before was refreshing, I went through the whole season with very little spiritual development. I heard cheek-chapped 2nd graders toothlessly recite Luke 2, as all good little Lutherans do: "In THOSE days, CEASAR Augustus issued a decree, that a CENSUS should be taken of the enTIRE ROman WORLD. THIS was the FIRST census that TOOK PLACE while QUIRINIUS was GOVERNOR of SYRIA. And EVERYONE went to his OWN TOWN to REGISTER. So JOSEPH..." I sang my favorite Christmas hymn "Where Shepherds Lately Knelt" (CW 54, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X06XFOSq7eM&feature=related) at good ol' classic Grace Downtown. I went over to Grandma's, I set out milk and cookies and beer and cheese for a Santa that I knew didn't exist, (as well as a banana for Rudolph... can't forget about him, poor guy!) and I opened presents. I went through the motions, and while those motions were lovely, they didn't mean very much to me last year.

I'm happy to say that this year is different - vastly different. And in many ways. If you would have told me last year that I would be taking my next winter exams in Minnesota I would have laughed until I got a stitch in my side, for one thing. But spiritually, this Advent season already means a lot more to me. In fact, Christmas has been revolutionized. Why?

'Cause Jesus was a baby.

I don't know why I never understood this before. Because I heard the joyful Christmas story proclaimed over and over again, pounded into my skull since infancy, that this incredible detail just lost it's luster?

JESUS was a BABY.

Have you ever seen a baby? Like really really seen one? A fresh one, straight from the... ? They are so very ugly. I know when I have a baby someday I will instantly dehydrate after gazing upon my child because of the tears of joy I will shed at the little bundle of joy, but we all come out as wrinkly little aliens. We can't move or eat or do anything but be scarily fragile and cry a lot. How the human race has survived this long, I will never know...

Jesus. Was. A. BABY.

Can we talk about babies for a second? BABIES. Dear Lord. Those are crazy enough in and of themselves. Those who know me know I say this all the time, but people, do you realize you hold within you the power to make a PERSON? Through your God-guided actions you play a starring role in creating a soul. A SOUL. Something that was not there before. Something out of seemingly nothing. I've always loved the image portrayed in Psalm 139:13-14 -

"For YOU created my inmost being, You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well."

Let's take the image of a dresser. A dresser is a lot less complex than a person, no? If I wanted to make a dresser all I would have to do is stroll over to Home Depot, buy some tools, nails, lacquer, lumber, go home, set up shop in my garage, and have at her. After some concentrated effort, boom - I have a dresser. The dresser may even last me for many years. How lovely. But I had to do a lot of work to have this dresser. Even If I had gone to Home Depot, made the same purchases, and then mixed them all together in my garage and let it sit for 9 months, when I open the door and take a peek it will all be exactly how I left it.

NOT SO WITH BABY-MAKING, folks! Not so at all. If a person wants to make a baby, they already have half the materials necessary - no need for a trip to Home Depot. And if they have a spouse, they have all the materials. Hooray. The list of items needed for a baby is far less than the items needed for a dresser - and inherently cheaper, too. (Although, now that I think about it, to get the spouse you might have to spend a little money on dates... but roll with this analogy, will you?) After a little concentrated effort, boom - you have a baby! You didn't have to sand it. You didn't have to lacquer it. You just mixed it up and let it sit for 9 months, and you have something that will last many years - like around 80 years. A mom has mysteriously cooked a creature with fingernails, eyes, a heart! A brain! Hormones and lymph nodes and a bone structure, oh my! Even as glorious and weirdly awestruck this may make you, creating a baby has made far more than incomprehensibly complex bodily systems - the man and woman two-become-one-flesh thing has crafted a soul. Something eternal, something infinite. A simple act of ultimate earthly love knit together the stuff of Heaven (or hell, I suppose) in a lowly, sin-ridden self.

Where babies come from blows my mind enough as it is. NOW, let's even amp this wonder up a notch.

JESUS WAS A BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A human baby. A wrinkly smelly alien baby. And not probably a cute one at that, since the Bible says Jesus "had no beauty or majesty to attract us to Him, nothing in His appearance that we should desire Him"(Isaiah 53:2). He was not a tubby golden winged cherub, and He most certainly did not grow into the hottie that we see pictured in European art and in most of our churches. When Christ came down to earth, He came like a regular Joe instead of a Brad Pitt. Too often humans paint and mosaic Him up to be this incredible stud with rippling abs laying oh-so-handsomely on the cross, but, correct me if I'm wrong, He wasn't. He is the One who created beauty. From Him comes all attraction and even sight - He invented hormones and the sexual attraction we all have. He could have come as something far sexier than an alien baby! He could have blown our minds! I know we glorify Him in art because we want to do His glory majesty, but He was an average guy.

He walked a lot so I don't want to go so far as to surmise He was fat, but He was probably pretty unkempt - "He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces He was despised, and we esteemed Him not"(Isaiah 53:3). He didn't have a regular shower to frequent due to His nomadic ministry - "Foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay His head"(Luke 9:58). He probably had pimples in His teenage years. And scars from popping them. He probably got roughed up in carpentry and playing with the other guys growing up, so He already had scars and the like. He was dusty. Dirty. If we passed Him in the street back then we wouldn't have cat-called or whistled at Him. He was nothing special outwardly.

By choice.

For YOU!

For me.

I just cannot wrap my head around how God - something so divine, so majestic, so far beyond any semblance of human comprehension - squashed His terrifyingly eternal majesty into a wrinkled little baby. A baby!!! How did His glory fit? Isn't the juxtaposition of the penultimate source of all manner of goodness and light in the cosmos and the lowest form of human life imaginable revoltingly mind-blowing? Doesn't it go against every physical, moral, mental law the human race has?

And not only was He born as a maggot-bound human, but He was born in a manger. A cowshed. A stable. A stall. A barn. A barn?! Not even you or I was born in a barn, despite what our mothers might yell at us when we exhibit poor table manners. We had the luxury of being born happy and healthy in a sterile hospital with trained experts standing by, blinking in the brightness of earth at around 8 pounds, 20 inches. We were instantly clean, warm, and wrapped. We had plenty to eat. We had instant vaccines. We had it good. What did He have at His birth?

Straw?

Nativity scenes are always displayed so serenely, but was the original nativity scene so pristine? BY NO MEANS. Mary, likely a 14-16 year old virgin, had to give birth IN A BARN with no epidurals, no ice chips, no local Jerusalem-area Lamaze class, and no sterile anything. Childbirth connoted a much grander fatal danger in those days, so as Mary was thrown in waves of labor pain, the thought of bleeding out on the straw in front of a man she barely knew and whom had probably never even seen her naked before constitutes a bunch of stress. And I know Mary serenely pondered all of the First Christmas events up in her heart, but if you picture it from her point of view in the heat of the moment as she's pushing out Jesus to this cold, hard world... it ain't pretty. She's experiencing childbirth for the first time, and Bethlehem was too crowded to even give Mary and Joseph a hotel room. In the words of Stephanie Tanner, "HOW RUDE!" I'm sure she was stressed about it being her first time. She's not married, so how do you think that looks to people, eh? Socially, she's in quite the unfair pickle. She's probably freaked out of her mind still at the fact that she's pregnant and her and Joseph never even did it - that doesn't seem normal - and she's little! She's a freshman in high school! And she's not even at home for all of this!

But Mary doesn't die. She succeeds in giving birth to Jesus, Savior of all. In a barn. With only Joseph to hold her hand and the oxen to oogle the orgy of blood and gross who-knows-what associated with childbirth. She's a simple woman giving birth to a simple baby boy in a simple barn. This scene could have taken place anywhere in the early Mesopotamian world. I bet 20 other babies were born that night in the area. Girls and boys, little Nicodemouses and Annas and Emmas and Madisons and Manuels. (Well, maybe not Manuels... they were Jewish after all, not Mexican. Once again, for the sake of a witty post title, roll with me here). It's simple, right?

It's simply Immanuel.

Immanuel, or "God with us". God WITH US, here! On earth! God left the popular cool kid lunch table of heaven, pulled on our weird clothes, and settled in for 30 years at the nerd table. He took Himself out of paradise - for us. With us. One of us.

This makes Jesus unlike any other idol, any other prophet, any other god. How many of those were willing to give up their glory for their subjects? Jesus' love was great enough to bring Him through a womb to our world - our world that murdered Him upon arrival. It's terrible and we all should obviously carry huge amounts of guilt for being human, being one of the same kind who killed the Lord of all, but God did this for our benefit. He did this for our good! Because Jesus, Immanuel, lived here with us,

"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have One who has been tempted in every way, just as we are - yet was without sin" (Hebrews 4:15)

His incredible humbling is an incredible blessing for us and gives such incredible comfort. He knows how you feel when you feel like you don't belong. He understands stress, He understands betrayal and loneliness. He understands it fully, better than anyone, and the great thing is that even though Immanuel died here, He also rose 3 days later and ascended into heaven so that someday we can go spend time in His world. For forever.

And the best part? He is still our Immanuel. He is still here on earth, in every particle of everything and all around you, all the time. He promises. We can trust Him.

So start getting excited people. Start getting excited that He's coming! Start preparing your hearts to try and comprehend His indescribable love this Christmas season. Enjoy the carols and the earthly, acquaintence-y love, but please, look past that. Look past the cliche' well wishes for "joy" and "light" and "happiness" that the over-marketed world jams down your throats. Look past Santa and misteltoe, eggnog, bad sweaters, and Christmas bonuses. Dig past tradition, dig past complacency, and dig into His word to find the runty little baby in a bloody little barn that came to save your bloody rotten runty soul.

Start getting excited to comprehend His salvation and what faith in Him is all about.

Ask the Holy Spirit to help you notice Immanuel in this world and share His love with others.

And start anticipating Easter where we'll nail Him to a cross yet again, and marvel at His plans, His love, His undying truth. Marvel at Him, the humble alien baby who created all things.

Marvel at Immanuel.

Happy Advent!

Home Is... Where?

Thanksgiving countdown: 6 days!!

I cannot explain to you strongly enough HOW DARN EXCITED I am to be going home. I haven't seen my house since August. I have never been away from home so long in my life. When I went to UW-Madison I went home once a month since it was only an hour and half away... but the 7 hour drive is a little more taxing to make now that I go to MLC. I mean, it's doable. But women's soccer kept me stuck here over fall break and I just haven't made it back.

By the time I finally go home next week I'll have been away for 95 days. Since May, I've only been at home for 5 days over midsummer break+12 hours between August 19th-20th that was turnaround time between camp and college. So really, it feels like I have been away a lot longer. I have spent the last three summer at Camp Phillip, but even then I got to go home/see important people fairly regularly. This is the most anticipated home-coming for me personally of my whole life. I. CANNOT. Wait.

I just feel that when I came to MLC, everything else that I left behind in Milwaukee, Wautoma, and Madison all just stopped and would be the same, waiting for me when I return. Like everyone just froze or they're on a laptop's "sleep" mode. It's a similar feeling to how you used to feel when you were playing Barbies as a child (or last month... what? Did I say that?) You could leave Barbie and Ken in the red convertible and a week later they would still be sitting there grinningly waiting for you, lost in plastic rapture. People in my life aren't like Barbie and Ken though. They're mobile. They morph and feel and change just as frequently as I personally do. In 95-plus days a lot of the people I care the most about might have morphed in ways I wasn't around to witness - which is both an exciting, frightening, foreign feeling. Going home will certainly be interesting!

What really constitutes "home" during your college years?
"Home" used to be that place you lived as a child. The place with mom and dad, with your own backyard and your own room. It was your base. Your sanctuary. It (for the most part) didn't move. It was a recharge point, refuge, rock. As high school demands crept into your life, it became more and more of a checkpoint since you were always out and about. And once graduation hit, you hit the road and your "home" hit the fan. At least, for me it did. Now that I'm in college, I live at my childhood house for 3-4 weeks over Christmas, a weekend here and there, 2-3 weeks in May, and Thanksgiving break. That's it. I don't even go home for spring break or summer. About every 3 months I have to pack my whole life into gray tote boxes and shuffle my life down dorm halls, cram it into backseats trunks of tiny college junker cars, and move. It's worse in summer - I can only set up camp for a week and then I'm on the move again! In the beginning it was novel and exciting, but 3 years into it (wow - three years of college already?!) the luster's wearing thin. Part of me is just longing for the day I have a place where I can set up shop permanently. All I want is to be able to not have to wear flip flops in the shower and to have the ability leave my toothbrush by the sink. Is that kind of permanence too much to ask for?

What is home? Is it still your childhood house? Does it only take two-by-fours and mortar to make a house a home?

Is home just the place you lay your head at night - so home can be found anywhere, from a hotel in Argentina to hut in Moscow?

Is your office your home? Or work? That little cubicle or desk, is that the place you truly feel accepted and at ease? When you're flipping burgers, is that home for you?

Do you find "home" in your hobbies, sports, music, books, or TV?

Is "home" only found once, in one place, at one time? Or can you have many homes in a lifetime?

Is "home" now your group of friends? Is home found among your newly acquired family all living on your college dorm floor together? Is mutuality and college camaraderie enough to breed kinship?

Or is home found in your vices?

Money?

Stability?

Humor?

Or is "home" found in love?

Suddenly being thrust into a nomadic culture of semester-long leases and summer internships means many college students feel like they're reeling. All of sudden their permanence, their stability just got ripped out from underneath their feet; they're thrust into a sea of novelty and change. They have the chance for the first time in their lives to make their own choices. Do they want to keep going to church like their parents? Do they want to start voting Democratic after hearing years of Republican tirades at the dinner table? These college kids are footloose. They're nomads. They can choose! And people choose to search for solace and permanence we all desire in the arms of a live-in girlfriend or in the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniel's. These aren't the right places to look for home.
While romance, hazy Friday nights, or even money can give people the warm fuzzy feelings of acceptance, love, and joy that "home" used to fulfill in our lives, eventually they bottom out on you. Your girlfriend could ditch you and your "love" for "Han's from Norway, the guy she met at the gym with Brad Pitt's face and Jesus' abs" (name that movie quote), the drunken nights can start feeling seedy and hollow as you inch up into your later 20's, and with the economy tanking, money is by no means something to rely on right now. Is there anything remotely solid we can hold on to in the ever-fluctuating life of a nomad?

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.

Therefore, we WILL NOT fear though the earth give way, and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging... God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day." -Psalm 45:1-3,5

God is our home. Even as nomads traveling through the sketchy path of life, His omnipresence in not only the daily events of our lives but in our hearts leaves no room for worry or doubt. He fills up the hole that we try and cram worthless idols into. And His love covers all our flaws.

The other day I was feeling cranky, worried, and stressed about things in my life that I can't control. I was geeking out about God's plan for my life and I was wondering if choices I made recently really were part of His plan after all, because it felt like I had made a horrible mistake. So when I was feeling down, what did I do? First I looked at Chuck Norris jokes. That was good for a laugh but it didn't help my emotional wrenching state of mind. So then I looked at Natalie Dee, and pardon the French, but I found this one that sadly resembled me:

Really, in the grand scheme of life, I have everything. I seriously may be the most privileged person in the entire world: stable family, amazing friends, the opportunity of an education, a great boyfriend, my health, talents, food on the table, a roof over my head, I get to live with my friends, I don't have to worry about money, I'm employable, I have two legs, arms, eyes, and ears... I could go on forever! And best of all, I have faith. So many people in the world don't know the saving Gospel message that Jesus became human, lived a perfect life, and died on the cross so that now everyone can go to eternal life if they just believe in Him! I'm blessed beyond belief. These little things that worry us nomads are not important - God's got it all in control.

(It's just a lot easier to say that and a lot harder to actually put that into practice, you know?)

Ultimately, God is our home. We can live as many places as we want to while we're all here on earth, but in the end, our citizenship is in heaven.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in Me. In My Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am"
- John 14:1-3

Count your blessings, enjoy time with family and friends, and above all else, remember where your home truly is. God is love!

Happy Thanksgiving!

A Return

So I keep journals. You probably know this. But I really wish you could read them all. This won't happen; they're far too personal for me to probably share with anyone but my husband and kids someday. I'd be okay with the general public reading them after I'm dead and gone, but certainly not now.

I wish you could read them because nearly every entry starts in the same fashion:

12:45am. Augustana 109. 3 November 2010. Song mood: "King of Anything" by Sara Barellies.

"Well, first and foremost an apology is in order. I am sooooo sorry, I didn't finish writing about _______________. I suck. I'm sorry."


I don't know really who my journals are to, but I usually seem to address them to "you", whomever "you" may be. And they always start out apologetic because although I journal frequently, I never say what I need to say fully. I always "run out of time" or am "too tired" or something. There's always some excuse. But I need to apologize to myself in these entries, and I don't know why. Huh.


I tell you these things because I am apologizing to you know. I was really proud of my semi-weeklyish blog posts and I was excited for awhile because I believed people really read them. This made the author in me really thrilled and I loved it, but I got really caught up in life here and chucked blogging by the wayside. I used to check this for new comments on posts even before I checked Facebook (whoa, what?!) and when I logged in today this had all the attraction and warmth as a dust-blown ghost town complete with tumbleweeds rumbling down the lane. For this, I heartily apologize from the depths of my literary heart. Truly.


Apologies make people weirdly vulnerable. When you apologize to someone you're putting your emotions, heart, and pride on the chopping block; you're throwing yourself to the mercy of rejection. But have you ever been apologized to by someone who really hurt you? Or have you knocked yourself down off the totem pole of self-love and groveled for forgiveness at the feet of someone whose soul was ripped to shreds by your cutting words? I've experienced both, and can I ever tell you that afterwards in either case you just feel... clear. Clear like saran wrap. Does that make sense? I feel like saran wrap after apologies - clear, easy, clean...

It's a blow to your personal pride to admit to someone "you were right, I was wrong". It never is an easy thing to do, but sometimes to preserve relationships in your life you have humble yourself -which is something I seem to usually cowardly avoid because it's difficult. However, if we avoid the difficult things in life forever, life isn't going to be that interesting. You'll never have closure about anything and your pent up frustration just might make you blow your top like an over-shaken soda can.

Jesus, as usual, was the perfect model of humility, and gave His followers a deeply intimate look at what truly humbling yourself before men really means. It means we're supposed to wash each other's feet. We're supposed to show love to those people who deeply hurt us, asking nothing in return. It means loving people who got the label of "weird", "ugly", or "worthless" stamped on their forehead by society. We're supposed to help, respect, and forgive everyone - everyone. And it means that we too need to realize our utter sinfulness and humbly ask God for His forgiveness every single day.

How often do you ask God to forgive your sins? I know I struggle with that a great deal sometimes because I play the "compare game" - you've done it too. "I really can't be that bad, I go to a Lutheran college," "At least I'm not doing pot," "I could just be sleeping around with everyone like_________ does, but I'm not so that makes me better than ________"... and the list goes on. When I play that game I always feel like that awful Pharisee in Luke 18 -

" The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed, "God, I thank you that I am not like other people - robbers, evildoers, adulterers - or even like this tax collector"(verse 11).

How terribly, terribly prideful.

"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, "God have mercy on me, a sinner" (verse 13)

I need to return to asking God in fear and trembling to forgive my sins like this tax collector did instead of pridefully strutting before His throne, dictating what He should do in my life. Too often we forget God could quite literally nuke us in a heartbeat - and should nuke us in a heartbeat. Who are we to yell at Him, demand things of Him, or even ask for His forgiveness - when it was us that murdered God?

"I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted" (Luke 18:14).

I'm the chief of sinners, yet He still loves me. I'll never be able to get over that. It's always the best news in the world.

So, in sum, I am apologizing to you and asking your forgiveness for not blogging in like 10 years. I'm also going to go apologize to God for all the awful crap I do everyday, and I would encourage you to do the same. Return to routine confession before God. Afterwards, you'll feel easy and clear - just like saran wrap!

"Humble thyself in the sight of the Lord
And He will lift you up
Higher and higher
And He will lift you up"
- verse 1 "Humble Thyself", Camp Phillip.

(And I might even try to return to regular blog posts?)