The Next Adventure

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Faithful

"I do not ask for success; I ask for faithfulness." -Mother Teresa

I began this semester at a peak of anxious thought about my future. If Never Never Land was not an option, what would I find myself doing after May? Where would I go? Who would I go with? It didn't take long before the "just trust God" rhetoric started to become just that--rhetoric.

These past few weeks have been a roller coaster of ideas, dreams,emotions, spiritual lows and spiritual highs. I prayed consistently for direction, clarity and something more than just "trust." I asked this because the way I see it,no matter how much I trust God, there comes a time for decisions.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, differently than I anticipated and even when I believed I was being ignored, God answered that prayer this week. All the crazy, hyper neurons in my brain spouting anxiety just stopped. and breathed. Grace and peace. Praise God for that grace and peace-- the grace that allows for and forgives my foolishness and impulsiveness and the peace that puts life back into perspective and reveals your location nestled safely in the hands of an all-powerful, sovereign God.

As a counseling major, I've come to realize that it often takes three, four, maybe five sessions before things begin to click for a client, the pieces of information come together, and visible progress is able to be made. The beginning sessions are needed for foundation work and information gathering. The things that seem unimportant are vital. I feel that this is very similar to my life. I want to absorb every moment I have right now because God is preparing and stretching me in every step. .As much as I'd love to run off to Turkey this instant, it's not the right time. I still have things to learn and things to do here. I believe a time is coming when the pieces will be put together. For now, I am trusting my "therapist". He knows where he wants me to go even when I am ignorant of the plan. I just need to be faithful. Erwin McManus said, "I'm convinced more of us would like to be known by faith, but resist the tedious journey of faithfulness." How true.

Lord, may I find joy and contentedness in my journey of faithfulness.

A New Season

Here I am back in East Tennessee with the mountains, the humidity, the crazy drivers and the UT orange. Though it appears that some things never change, I’m beginning to realize that everything does.

A speaker in chapel last week said, “God is a God of progress.” Isn’t that true? Time is always going; it never takes a breather. The earth is always rotating, the seasons are always changing, and I’m finding that I myself seem to be constantly growing. I feel like a book that after trying and failing for too long to write itself into a best-seller, finally gave in to a much more experienced revisionist--God.

I am not who I was a year ago. To give you just one example, I remember sitting in the library with my cousin last Fall and saying that I sometimes seemed to lack the emotion and sympathy I felt I should have—that all too often I felt like my heart didn’t break for what broke God’s. How was it that I could listen to stories of horrible tragedies and not shed a tear? Yesterday I found myself saying, “Why am I always so emotional? How is it that I can’t listen to one story or sing one song without crying?”

I’ve been reading about Mother Teresa lately and have been inspired by her love for people. She loved people with great intensity. She viewed each person in need as though he was Jesus Christ himself. “He is the hungry one. He is the naked one. He is the thirsty one. Each is Jesus in a distressing disguise.” She believed that people hunger for love more than for bread, and that love was the greatest gift we could give to people. It’s not always easy to love, but I believe God is more than willing to transform our hearts and fill us with an unworldly desire to put others above ourselves. If it’s not from God, then our love seems to have selfish motives. We only love with agenda and with hopes of gaining something in return.

Mother Teresa said, “The success of love is in the loving-it is not in the result of loving. Of course it is natural in love to want the best for the other person, but whether it turns out that way or not does not determine the value of what we have done.”

I am no Mother Teresa, but I feel like my heart is undergoing surgery where there are blockages being removed in order that I might love without restraint. It might be a very long, tedious surgery.

Last semester changed me. I am still changing. It will be a life-long process of change. But I suppose that if God is a God of progress, then a stagnant life would be no life for a Christian. So here is to change, growth, and new season.

More than philosophy and theology

I've been writing a lot of posts lately and then deleting them. I think it's because I'm having trouble communicating what I want to. I'm not sure this one will be much better, but it's worth a shot.

I've been missing Egypt a lot in the last week. I've been flooded with memories of people and their faces. Just last night I dreamed about my favorite little boy at the orphanage. I wish I could go back and hold those little ones just one more time. I find myself constantly thinking about my family in Embaba and imagine all the preparations they are surely making for my sister's engagement party and my other sister's wedding. I also think about the nut man and the fruit man and even the bread man (whose funny, incoherent call is my current ringtone). But I also think about the faces I encountered on travel component in Turkey and in Syria and in Israel and in Bethlehem. I've been extremely emotional lately about politics--specifically Middle-Eastern politics. I've cried on more than one occasion (today included) just from watching talk shows/new reports that seem to so easily dehumanize others. We believe in love and peace and some might even go so far as to believe Jesus' radical teaching of loving the enemy, but it's hard to begin to love someone without understanding them.

Some on the right believe that they have everything figured out and some on the left believe that they have everything figured out. Then each side begins to grow a hate that is only reinforced by choice media. How quick we are to feel ourselves superior and forget that "they" are no further from God's grace than "we" are.

I think I get emotional because I now have faces that I can pair with "stories".
I'm currently reading a book by Ted Dekker called Tea With Hezbollah in which he records interviews held with many men that are often referred to as "terrorists" and "enemies". What I find so intriguing is that instead of asking "What is your philosophy on..." or "What is your political view on..." or even "What theology motivates you on...", Dekker asks questions like "What makes you laugh? What makes you cry? What is your favorite joke? What is your family like?"

Because a man is more than philosophy and theology. All men are created in the image of God and his love is as deep for each one as if he were the only one ever created.

I do believe that evil exists in this world and that men are capable of detestable, evil acts. Terrorism is real and people are killed every day. But terrorism that is fueled by hate cannot be defeated by more hate. I'm not sure I can believe that there is never a time for violence. This is a fallen world. But if I truly believe that Jesus conquered death and sin and evil in his death and resurrection...then I must believe that he is able to restore the things most broken and the hearts most wayward. We cannot do this, even with all the forces in the world.

I don't know that there can ever be peace until Jesus comes back, but I do believe that peace and harmony can be restored one heart at a time (beginning with my own) and that it can be spread one heart at a time.

Quite honestly, I don't give a care about politics these days. It's theory, manipulation and agenda. I want something real. I want the love of Jesus.

Water

John 4:7-14
When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, "Will you give me a drink?" (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.)

The Samaritan woman said to him, "You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?" (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.)

Jesus answered her, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water."

"Sir," the woman said, "you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did also his sons and his flocks and herds?"

Jesus answered, "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."

I'm recalling a devotional that was given by Bishop Thomas last semester in Egypt. He told a story about a little boy who asked the question, "How can Jesus be inside of us? If God is bigger than us, then he cannot fit in us. How can we be in God AND God be in us?" Everyone he asked, including Bishop Thomas, would reply simply that God is everywhere. But the boy was unsatisfied and upset that no one seemed to see the magnitude of this dilemma. After much contemplation and prayer, Bishop Thomas went back to the boy with an illustration. On the table was a large vase filled with water. This vase represented Jesus. Also on the table was an empty cup that represented us. It was easy to pour water from the vase into the cup, but the cup would quickly run dry if it offered water to something else. Bishop Thomas then took the cup and submerged it into the vase. Now the cup was in the vase water...and the vase water was in the cup.

I'm also recalling an illustration that I remember from my high school youth pastor that has always stuck in my mind. He showed a picture that looked similar to this:

In this picture representing our life, we have made God a part of it. He's even a bigger part of it than the other things listed. I remember looking at this picture and understanding it. Yup, that looks about right!
Then my youth pastor showed this picture:

Here's the thing. This whole life really isn't about me. It's God's. And my life is a part of God's story. It's not the other way around. Sometimes I still think so backwards.
God has been chasing me with the story of the woman at the well and with his words, "...whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst." If we are submerged in Christ, than his water will forever fill our little cup. We can pour out and not run dry because we live in the source of all water.

Sometimes I get disillusioned into thinking that I'm not complete yet--that completion will come after finding the right guy or after finding the right job, etc. But the truth is that neither of those things can complete a person. It still wouldn't satisfy.

Jesus offers completion. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I am His and He is mine. I belong to Christ.

In trying to grasp what exactly this means, I have the story of the Ugly Duckling popping into my head. I know it's a silly example, but the duckling (that's actually a swan) can never seem to fit anywhere. Even though it has a good home with the ducks, it isn't satisfied and able to understand its true beauty until it finds his real mother. Maybe that's how it is with us. We can't understand our unique beauty or place in the world until we are reunited with our creator and true Father.

"Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him." -John 3:38

Hope

I’ve had a lot of weird dreams lately (which, if you know me at all, is nothing new). In the last few days I’ve dreamed that I wasn’t really a Wingfield, but an illegitimate child, that Relient K called me up on stage during a concert because they wanted to know more about Egypt, and that a creepy milk lady had a crush on my little brother.(?)Then last night I had a dream that I was given the assignment of writing a five page essay on one character trait of God. Someone picked faithfulness, someone else picked love, and someone even picked wrath. I kept trying to pick “hope”, but my professor said that it wasn’t a character trait. So then I tried to pick “hope-giver”, but he didn’t like that either. I don’t know what happened in the end because I must’ve woken up, but I like that I wanted to write about God being a hope-giver.

I don’t want to be a critic…but I want to think critically. I’ve been wondering lately if there’s a difference and I think hope may be one of the things that separates a critical thinker from a critic. I think this because any time I feel overwhelmed with the negative, I remember how good and faithful God is, and that one day He will make all things right. There is hope for restoration. It’s not simple optimism, but a realization that the world is groaning and waiting for the day when things will be made right. But even now, God is with us. I believe he can bring peace in pain and beauty from tragedy. He brings hope.

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.” Romans 8:18-21

A Common Enemy

So I’m watching the show Intervention tonight and a relative of the featured drug addict says to another relative, “You know, this is the first time we’ve ever been united in something.” They were united against drug addiction.

I was talking to a girl at Bethlehem University last semester and asked, “What’s the ratio of Christian students to Muslim students here?” The girl quickly answered that they didn’t label one another “Christian” or “Muslim”; they were all just “Palestinian”. They were united against occupation.

We all remember 9-11. For however long it lasted, the people of our country united against terrorism.

I find it interesting that what unites people is a common enemy. Whether that enemy is Hitler or an opposing sports team, it seems as if the only thing that can unite enemies is an even bigger enemy. In fact, I remember asking myself last semester what could possibly unite Palestinians and Israelis. My friend Toni and I concluded that peace between them would be possible if aliens from another planet came to destroy all of human kind and the only way we could survive was if we all worked together against them.

I read a great book by Brother Andrew a couple years ago in which he records his conversations with prominent leaders of both Hamas and Hezbollah. To many Christians in America (and to me at the time), the fact that he even talked to them sounded shocking. Aren’t they dangerous? Aren’t they the enemy? The conversations shook me with the realization that these men were…men. They had beliefs and convictions, families and things in the world that they cared about. They were different…and yet strangely similar. It’s uncomfortable to have enemies with whom you can relate. Maybe that’s why we so easily dehumanize our “enemies”. Brother Andrew then reminded his readers of Paul’s words in Ephesians. “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

I can remember playing the card game “Phase 10” with my mom and brother many years ago. Somehow a rivalry broke out between my brother and I where I would skip him every chance I had and he would skip me every chance he had. We were so concentrated on beating each other that we missed the fact that we were both losing to our mom. She won.

Do you think that’s what we’re doing? Losing to a forgotten enemy? So I’m just pondering to myself…what if we were to all unite against the one, true enemy in existence?

Live Successfully

My preacher asked the question this morning, “How do you measure a life?” (I apologize now for the RENT song I just made pop into your head…). I’m glad he brought up that question, because it’s one that my MESP friends and I seemed to discuss often. What makes a life “successful”?

I may have had a slight mental breakdown last week after realizing that the majority of my friends are at this time either looking into graduate schools or getting married. Me? I have no clue what I’m even doing tomorrow, let alone after I graduate next May. I have no plan (except my plan to not work at Old Navy for the rest of my life). I have many options in front of me, and while I understand how blessed I am to have these options, I’m overwhelmed by the idea that I have to make a decision in less than a year that could determine the rest of my life.

My friend Sharon is going to law school to be a social-justice lawyer. She’s one of those people I get excited about seeing five, ten, twenty years from now. She’s going to make a difference in this world. My friend Sarah is going to be a physical therapist—and an awesome one at that. She loves people and heals not only with her coveted massages but with her kind and encouraging spirit. She too is going to make a difference in the world.

I am not going to law school, and I’m not going to be a physical therapist. And while I mentioned that I don’t want to work in retail for the rest of my life, I wonder if my life would still be “successful” if I did nothing but fold clothes every day.

There's a picture frame I saw at Wal-mart that reads, “Life isn’t measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the number of moments that take your breath away.” My preacher made a new statement today. “Life isn’t measured by the number of breaths you take or even the number of moments that take your breath away, but by the number of breaths you breathe into the lives of others.”

I can remember a day in 8th grade when one of our guidance counselors came to class and gave us a lecture on “'The Haves’ versus ‘The Have Nots’”. He told us we needed to continue our education because our success one day would depend on how much money we made—money that could only come from a good job that would only come from making good grades. We were going to grow up and find ourselves in one of those two categories. We could “have” and be able to buy a new car every few years, or we would be a “have not” and have to drive the same car for up to ten years. This is what measured your success.

We all know that when you die, you die. And that it won’t really matter how much money you made or how well-known your name was or how pretty your house looked. Some might call that success, but in the scheme of eternity, I don’t believe those things matter to God. You may be a person like Sharon who plans on making “macro-level” differences in the world, taking on injustices and fighting the bullies of the world. You may be more like Sarah who will make an impact one person at a time as a physical therapist. I don’t think it’s their occupation that will make them successful, but the heart that they have fueling them—the heart of God.

No, I don’t know what I’ll be doing a year from now. But if I do have an example to follow:
“Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature a servant,
being made in human likeness.” –Philippians 2:5-8

I also have a promise:
“he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” –Philippians 1:6

Even if for now it’s just by providing customer service at a clothing store, I want to bless people. Then maybe one day, no matter where I end up or what I end up doing, I can say I lived a successful life.

Afraid of Fear

Someone once asked me what I was afraid of and I answered, “I’m afraid of being afraid.” They laughed at me and claimed my answer was illegitimate, but it’s an honest answer. I might have left out some things (like large spiders), but in reality I am literally afraid of being afraid. I used to have (and still do have at times) really bad stage fright. The weird thing is, I wasn’t afraid of being on the stage or even of making mistakes, but of becoming too afraid to perform well. I knew that if I were to get nervous, then I would get shaky and sing like a sheep. I would get so nervous about becoming nervous that I would indeed shake. It sounds like I’m talking in circles, but the point I’m trying to make is that fear is something I don’t like to experience.

So maybe the fact that I have the very word “fear” in my blog seems odd. Why does Paul say that we should work out salvation with fear and trembling? Neither one sounds very appealing. But the process of working out one’s salvation—a process of trying on a daily basis to understand more of God and how to follow Him, is scary because it’s a journey with a lot of mystery. It includes questions that are too often answered with more questions. But I don’t want to be too afraid to embark on that journey because I think the fear experienced during it will only lead me to depend more on God, who is eager to spill blessings of grace and peace on his daring children. In an ironic way, I’m overcoming fear by letting myself be afraid.

Heaven to Earth

Rob Bell writes in his book Velvet Elvis, “If the gospel isn’t good news for everybody, then it isn’t good news for anybody.” Despite the automatic critique I want to give that statement, it convicts me. The gospel is good news. It convicts me because I think of all the times we’ve made the gospel bad news. Not only that, but it convicts me to ask if I’ve made the gospel good news for the people around me simply through the way I live life. This also leads me to ask the seemingly simply question of…What is the gospel? And it’s here where my thoughts go everywhere.

The first thought I have is a question that was posed last semester by Rev. Paul Gordan-Chandlier. I don’t remember the direct quote, but the way I translated it in my head was, “Do you worship the Christ of the gospels or the Christ of the West?” Do I follow the gospel of the Bible of the gospel of the West? I suppose I opened my eyes then to how closely associated the words “Christian” and “America” are in Islamic culture. This is confusing to me because Christianity started, after all, in the Middle East. Jesus was a part of Middle-Eastern culture. So why does the gospel appear to be so foreign there? Have we made it into something it’s not?

Another thought/question I have pertains to the purpose of the gospel. I grew up in Sunday School and I attend a Bible College. This means I can tell you about the “Roman Road.” But what I question is whether or not the primary purpose was to get us to heaven…or to get heaven to us. Both? My pastor is currently preaching a series called “Heaven to Earth.” I like it. Growing up I always heard that the gospel is what gets you into heaven. True. But that was all we focused on. I think Jesus came to earth for something more than to just secure us with eternal life. He brought…life. Period. “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” If heaven in a future tense was all that mattered, why would Jesus spend so much time healing the sick and loving the unloved? Maybe the gospel is not just to take away the fear of dying, but to take away the fear of living.

The gospel is good news for the whole world. It should be good news because it should bring heaven to the hells of earth.

One Thing I Do Know

I was reading in the gospel of John the other night about a blind man who is healed by Jesus on the Sabbath. Instead of a worship session, a debate soon breaks out among the people. "Some of the Pharisees said, 'This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath.' But others said, 'How can a sinner do such miraculous signs?' So they were divided"(9:16). The Pharisees interview the man, then his parents, and then the man again who gets frustrated with the debate and says, "Whether he is a sinner or not, I don't know. One thing I do know, I was blind but now I see."

The whole dialogue between the Pharisees and the blind man strikes a chord with me. I like him. He's honest. He speaks what he knows is true without fear, and I feel myself wanting to be more like him. There are always debates going on about what is good and what is wrong, what is politically acceptable and what isn't, what is true and what is a lie. And sometimes I just get frustrated with it all and want to shout with exasperation, "I don't know! And quite frankly I don't care about this argument. All I know is that something in my heart clings to Jesus Christ with the knowledge that he has given me life." The blind man understood his limited knowledge, but he had a personal testimony about a man who one day showed up and opened his eyes. I don't know much either. All I can honestly speak about are my own experiences.

I was in Jerusalem during Holy Week this year, and I thought I might add some excerpts from my journal from Good Friday and Easter Sunday. "As made evident to me by the Holocaust Museum and ironically by the mob on the Via Dolorosa today (that reminded me how easily a mob could've killed Jesus), human beings are capable of great evil. And yet, Jesus died for them. Jesus wept for them. He wept and carried a cross for his murderers, for the Jews, for the Gentiles, for me. And while I was squished inside the church today I thought to myself, 'Am I crazy? How does it make sense? Isn't it crazy to think I am going to heaven because a man 2000 years ago faced a violent, bloody crucifixion? It's absurd. And yet somehow I can't let it go. Surely Christ was no ordinary man. Somehow his death means my life. ...Jesus' death is historical. It can't really be denied. The belief that Jesus is no longer in a tomb, however, is what makes all the difference. The fact is, it's quite possible that I'm crazy. Faith means that I could be wrong. Jesus could've been a man with radical teachings and a delusional mind. He could've been crucified and then raised only in the stories of his disciples who couldn't face the possibility of him being gone. Or he could've been the Son of God who took on the sins of the world in his death and then defeated death once and for all in his resurrection."

"One thing I do know, I was blind but now I see."

Hello, God?

I was recently recommended a book that I was told gives "the Christian view" on many pressing issues in our society. I am sure the book has great things to say, and I'm willing to bet that I would agree with a lot of it. But something in my spirit had trouble with the terminology. "The Christian view."? Is there one "Christian" or "biblical" view/position on all of society's issues? How can we claim to know what that is? I believe that the Bible is the word (about the Word) of God and that it is alive. It's alive because it's a story that plays itself out in our own stories, constantly revealing new truths and constantly demanding to be wrestled with. Unfortunately, the fact of the matter is that the Bible can be and has been interpreted in many ways to fit many agendas, and I think it's dangerous to claim something as "THE biblical/Christian view". For example, I was working in the archives of JBC last year when I came across an article found in a popular Christian publication from the late 1800s. The article claimed a biblical/Christian view that was against women's rights to vote and women's rights to attend college. It equated women’s suffrage with communism and described higher education for females as “disgusting.” Had I been alive then and believed what I do today, would I have been considered "unChristian"? Unbiblical? This is why I find danger in claiming our interpreted views as divine truths. What do you think?

I was reading a book recently in which Toni Campole says, "...in one sense, all theologies are heresies." Why? Because they're all human, imperfect ideas of an incomprehensible, True God. And I believe that this True God is bigger than what we label "Christian." God made the world. And it was good. God does not exist in our doctrines and churches alone. Anywhere there is truth, there is God because God is Truth. As cliche as it is, "All truth is God's truth" and all truth is ours as children of God. I found a lot of truth in places I didn't expect to find it last semester. The Muslim culture for example isn’t “Christian”, but it is saturated with God and with many truths. Must we dismiss them all because they are “Islamic” and not “Christian”? My hope is to continue finding truths. And I believe that as long as my focus is on God and on following Jesus Christ, I will. If my focus is on our culturally-ingrained ideas, labels, and doctrines (which can be very good!) then I shrink God. And I miss the point.

C.S. Lewis said, "He Whom I bow to only knows to whom I bow when I attempt the ineffible Name, murmuring Thou..." In a way, I feel like I'm starting over with God. Have you ever been told about a person and without meeting them you make a lot of assumptions about who they are? Say for example that I introduce you to one of my friends named Sam. I've told you about Sam before, and you've heard certain stories about him so you meet with preconceived notions of who he is. Even after you meet him, you without realizing it fill in gaps and create an idea of who you believe him to be. You later realize that you were only meeting Sam in certain contexts and places, and that there was a lot more to Sam than you realized. Maybe what you knew of him was true, but you assumed a lot and therefore missed a lot. In a certain sense, I feel like I did this with God. To use another cliche, I often put God in a box without even knowing it. I want to go back to the beginning and meet God again without my preconceived and culturally-accepted ideas. I want him to speak for himself. Hello, God. My name is Danielle. But I guess you already knew that...

Give Me Grace.

I woke up this morning with a strange, overwhelming urge to write. It’s a strange urge for me to have, simply because I’ve never had it before. I don’t often write, I believe because I’ve never been good at organization—especially when it comes to the plethora of thoughts running through my brain that seem impossible to pin down to paper. But I think I might possibly have reached a point where the surplus of thoughts can no longer remain in my brain and are instead being forced to find a way to overflow out before my head simply explodes. And so, the stampeding thoughts have woken me up with a desire to write, thus creating this blog.

If you’re wondering what the cause of my near-thought-explosion is, I cannot sum it up easily for you. But it started last January when I exited my safe world of Bible College and chose to study abroad in the Middle East where I experienced the most challenging, thought-provoking, best months of my life. And now it’s over. It’s over in the sense that I am home in America where it is assumed to be over. But in reality, the semester hasn’t ended for me. All the questions and ideas and memories flood my mind daily here, in a place surprisingly foreign. My surroundings of West Virginia didn’t change, but I have. And this is my attempt-my quest-to find out how.

As I mentioned before, organization of thoughts has never been a strength for me. It’s like a chef trying to describe the food that he makes. He can’t describe it in one sentence because all the foods are so different from one another. If he were to write a short and sweet summary of his cakes, pastries, sandwiches, soups, salads, etc. all together, it would contain only shallow adjectives that deny the specific uniqueness and depth with which he could describe each one. I too have decided that the only way I can process these thoughts is to take one idea at a time (even as overwhelming a task as that seems). It could be a long process. If you haven’t noticed, I have yet to begin one topic and I’ve already written three paragraphs. But it’s a quest I am going to take, and I invite you to join me on it because I would be appreciative and welcoming of any thoughts to add to the discussion. I can’t get too far on my own. Philippians 2:12 says to, “…work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” I am saved, yet I continue to work out my salvation, questioning and probing my faith on a journey to make it transparent and real. “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ took hold of me.”

I feel like the most appropriate thought to begin with when starting such a blog is the idea of humility. If I didn’t understand humility before I left for Egypt, I sure came back with a much greater understanding of the concept. Humility was introduced to me upon my first full day in Cairo. All of sudden, I was completely out of my element. I was the foreigner in the store who didn’t know the language and couldn’t communicate what she wanted to buy; I was the girl who had never ridden in any type of public transportation before, even when the drivers spoke English. When I stayed with a lovely Muslim family for a week, I felt like a child in every way. I was being taught my alphabet and basic words. Every meal was prepared for me, and my hand was always held while crossing the street. I was dependent. I was the minority in my appearance, and for the first time—my faith. To the Muslim-dominated society, I as a Christian was backwards. Truth be told, had I been born in Egypt and not mid-west America, I more than likely would be a Muslim like my “sisters” that I lived with. Though I wanted to at first, I couldn’t deny that culture had played a large part in how I viewed the world, my faith, and God. So who was God really? How does my faith matter? And how can truth be separated out from culture? Those are questions that haunted me and demanded from me a foundation of humility—a willingness to admit that in reality, I know squat. As part of the MESP program, we were confronted with several issues and then presented with speakers on both sides. I quickly learned that reasonable people can reasonably disagree, making valid arguments on both sides. Ideas I used to find ridiculous are now sensible to me—even if I still disagree. I understand that experiences I have had lead me to believe certain things, and as everyone has different life experiences, everyone’s filter through which they see the world is different. Recognizing this, I understand the possibility that I’m wrong. There’s a possibility that everything I’ve ever been taught is wrong. But there’s also the possibility that most of it is true. And so with humility comes the recognition of my gigantic need for grace, grace, and more grace. God, give me grace.