tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40498236335525290522024-03-19T03:36:49.088-07:00Sacred WhimsyThe Beautiful Way Jesus Makes Everything in Life WorthwhileJaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-42157332116712040132012-03-31T14:14:00.001-07:002012-03-31T14:19:47.155-07:00Pushing the Cart<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>yoke</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
|yōk|noun</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">a
wooden crosspiece that is fastened over the necks of two animals and attached
to the plow or cart that they are to pull</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghZC2friqY9ANuSepiwVMTI_VyBZ1cbA5b7sM9SeA-pJiEFHSQtlhiDLTtLReV0De0qpGHrZup_Rsvy9v_DtzSIYwwGuLhSgcHU1cDZQgonaajXI8Bjq_T0rrIy3lt_mErkHFqHGv6le0/s1600/OxenYokeUp-908x645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghZC2friqY9ANuSepiwVMTI_VyBZ1cbA5b7sM9SeA-pJiEFHSQtlhiDLTtLReV0De0qpGHrZup_Rsvy9v_DtzSIYwwGuLhSgcHU1cDZQgonaajXI8Bjq_T0rrIy3lt_mErkHFqHGv6le0/s1600/OxenYokeUp-908x645.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“For freedom Christ set us free;
stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.” -Galatians 5:1<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Come to me, all who labor and
are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn
from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your
souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” -Matthew 11:28-30<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on
religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show
you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it.
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting
on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." -Matthew 11:28-30 [MSG]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“When he says, ‘Take my yoke up
you,’ he does not mean a yoke which he would lay upon our shoulders. It is his
own yoke he tells us to take, and to learn of him. It is the yoke he is himself
carrying, the yoke his perfect Father had given him to carry. The will of the
Father is the yoke he would have us take, and bear also with him. It is of this
yoke that he says, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It is easy</i>, of
this burden, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It is light</i>. He is not
saying, ‘The yoke I lay upon you is easy, the burden light.’ What he says is,
‘The yoke <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>carry is easy, the burden
on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i> shoulders is light.’” -George MacDonald<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As a little girl, I loved
helping my mom push the shopping cart at the grocery store. I would slyly slip
between her arms, barely able to see over the handle, and position myself in
front of her as “captain” of the cart. It seemed like such a wondrous
responsibility – navigating heavy machinery through aisle after aisle, careful
to avoid displays precariously stacked at each turn. I always took this duty
very seriously, and it made me feel proud and powerful and important. Not to
mention how fun it was! And yet somehow it never dawned on me that all my
shopping cart pushing success was due to my mother’s presence at the handle
with me. She was the one pushing. She was the one avoiding the inevitable
canned-food catastrophe my blind driving would have caused. She was the muscle
propelling the all-too-heavy cart. I experienced all the joy and carefree
responsibility because mom was at the wheel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I imagine this is what Jesus
meant when He offered us His yoke. Rather than offering an “easy for Jaime”
yoke, and a “light for Jaime” burden (think the kid-sized carts at Trader
Joes), He says, “This God-sized yoke is easy for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Me</i> to carry, and this burden is light on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My</i> shoulders. Carry it with Me (push the grown-up sized cart with
me, Jaime).” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes I think I try to carry
the God-sized yoke of Jesus on my shoulders by myself. I somehow feel it’s my
duty to fulfill the will of God of my own volition and strength. I have to do
it by myself. As if God requires this of me. And so I stumble and I falter
until I’m crushed under the weight of what I cannot bear alone, leaving a trail
of wreckage behind. What was meant to be light and easy becomes devastating and
discouraging because I can’t do it. I’m a terrible failure who can’t please
God. I’m a slave to my yoke of inadequacy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mine is the story of humanity
throughout Scripture. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Attempt after feeble attempt to
please God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">God gave Israel the Law to show
them how to live. The Law taught Israel that, even with a step-by-step guide of
how to live a godly life, they were incapable of doing it on their own. They
collapsed under the yoke of the Law. It showed them their need, not just for an
external God who demanded obedience, but an indwelling God who would
demonstrate obedience. A God who would be in it with them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Enter Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Take my yoke upon you… Walk with me and work with me”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We are invited to partner with
Christ in obedience. It’s there we find the pleasure of God – by faith extended
to us, and by deeds bursting from within us. It’s there we find ease, not in
the task, but in knowing on whose shoulder’s the weight of it rests. It’s there
we find lightness and rest from the frenzy of all our wonderings. It’s there we
slip between the arms of our Savior, and with Him, carry out the will of the
Father. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m so grateful that God doesn’t
condescend a Jaime-sized burden onto my shoulders, one that I can manage on my
own. How insignificant it would be. Rather, He generously allows me to
participate in the grand, God-sized work of Christ – a work far too large for my
inadequate shoulders, but where I fit perfectly within the span of His. I can
leave behind my stumbling and faltering, and stand with strength and joy-filled
confidence as I enjoy being a child at work with her Father. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Okay Lord, let’s push this cart
together.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Abadi MT Condensed Light';"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-18245676407125020122011-10-25T22:14:00.000-07:002011-10-25T22:14:12.252-07:00Baby Steps<!--StartFragment-->
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’ve
been inspired by my witty blogging friends to get things going again. This
inspiration comes by way of these two in particular -- </span><a href="http://bloggingatnaptime.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Michelle</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> and </span><a href="http://jonsnewadventure.wordpress.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jon Troll</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. Both are fantastic
writers who just happen to be wise and interesting and HILARIOUS. Their blogs
will make you better, more cultured people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So,
I guess you could say this is a revival of sorts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Or
maybe a blogvival. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I
realize that I made a similar claim about nine months ago that survived a
four-entry stretch, but I’m hoping this reblogal (if you will) isn’t just a
passing fancy. What’s the key to my success, you ask? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Baby
steps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Literally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m
devoting my blog to nothing but pictures and videos of babies taking their
first steps. I think it’s going to be a big hit. Kind of like how kitties are
all the rage. There may even be the occasional posting of a baby holding a
kitty while taking its first step. Wouldn’t that be wild!?! And super
inspirational… And perhaps a window into my dwindling ability to discern what
actually inspires people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh
wait… what’s this?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/0WHokFJlMCE" width="420"></iframe><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You’re
so totally inspired. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Stay
tuned for more where that came from.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-5697349708448723662011-01-28T17:12:00.000-08:002011-01-28T17:12:59.826-08:00Hope & Ugly Truth<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today I journaled out of Jeremiah 27 & 28. The interaction begins with God filling Jeremiah in on His plans to set King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon over several other nations, including Judah. Other prophets had been telling the people that this situation would be short-lived, but Jeremiah knew the truth meant they faced captivity “until the day I [God] visit them.” There was no time-frame for freedom, but there was a promise of providence if they yielded.</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Then the prophet Jeremiah said to Hananiah the prophet, ‘Hear now, Hananiah, the Lord has not sent you, but you make this people trust in a lie. Therefore thus says the Lord: Behold I will cast you from the face of the earth…”</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> -Jeremiah 28:15-16a<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hananiah couldn’t believe that God would plan captivity for His people. He couldn’t accept that blessing could be possible within the confines of those circumstances. The people had squandered their promise and God responded justly. Maybe Hananiah had good intentions. Maybe he didn’t want the people to lose heart. He didn’t want them to be consumed by the judgment of captivity. But in the end, Hananiah wasn’t doing himself or the people of Israel any favors. He imposed his standards of mercy and justice on God and prophesied a lie to the people. He offered them false hope that would paralyze them when judgment came. While Jeremiah’s message was much less pleasant, there was hope residing in the ugly truth: “Roll with God’s judgment and you’ll find mercy and blessing. Rebel and find wrath.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This dynamic exists in different shapes and forms in faith today. Name it-Claim it. Prosperity. The message of grace erasing consequences. Problem-Solver Jesus… if we “get” Him like we “Get Jesse” then everything bad goes away. These messages cripple the people of God. When they inevitably face trials, hardships and suffering; when they collide with the brokenness of this world, they’re left floundering and shaken because their tidy solution never came around. The rainbows and butterflies never showed up! The truth is, God has given us grace and strength to face whatever foe or crisis comes our way. The blessing isn’t perfect circumstances or lack of consequences – it’s an all-sufficient Savior who offers forgiveness and promises never to leave nor forsake us. The blessing is in the character and contentment that come with trusting Him. God is always just, always strong, and always good – even when this world and life & death and suffering try to tell us otherwise. There is intrinsic hope in the ugly truth when we trust the Lord.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">God takes this stuff seriously. Hananiah lost his life for causing the people to trust in a lie. As a follower of Christ, I have a responsibility to be a voice of truth that speaks and imparts real hope to God’s people; a voice that equips others to stand and flourish, even in the captivity of their current circumstances. </span><o:p></o:p></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-53661687583240117902011-01-24T12:49:00.000-08:002011-01-24T13:06:25.032-08:00Fickle Jesus<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I found this on my computer today as I was cleaning up files and such. I wrote it about two years ago, and I'm happy to report that some of this has changed. But still, isn't it interesting how one can profess belief, but often operate in opposition to that claim? I know who Jesus is and what He's about, but I don't always live like it. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is a description of the Jesus my insecurities, fears and lack of faith often reflect. I want that to change.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I do not know Jesus as I claim.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know a version of Him.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m acquainted with a Lord who fits rather well into my mindsets and traditions.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know a Savior who has answers and offers them to me in familiar and encompassing promises.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He’s somewhat trustworthy but not always capable of addressing my concerns and meeting my needs.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He hears my prayers but requires my assistance in coming up with suitable solutions.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He doesn’t mind so much if I put off spending time with Him. He understands my busy schedule and is gracious to share me with all of my important and pressing commitments.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This Jesus is passive concerning the eternal affairs of man. He’s glad when someone is saved, but is sympathetic toward my fear of man and lack of urgency in reaching the lost.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He conforms to my emotional state. His nearness or lack thereof depends on how I’m feeling at any given moment. His plan wanes when I am frustrated or desperate, and is absolute when I’m on board.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He loves me, but doesn’t require much of me, except when I fail. Then he’s terribly disappointed. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He’s susceptible to my whims. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He’s flippant with the aching desires of my heart, and seems to withhold for no good reason. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">How fickle this Jesus is.</span><o:p></o:p></i></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-69512654553563671942011-01-17T10:26:00.000-08:002011-01-17T23:48:11.008-08:00Nurturing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nfg7hhqpqLLBv6jqjIhdNur4xqt_Gp44Od6NDGVaFPpRnQOXwlzVqO1In5cO8PJfjyysBZ7gVvFSDv3k6CVdxT2jy7Y5AWcjVrrMRCy2BGBzUR-1BVcjcrohuMDiKU3Gs1vW1ZWSS0g/s1600/DSCN7983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;">"Auntie, do you think he'd want me to wrap his arms and legs in a blankie so he'll stay warm and cozy?"</span></a></div><br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nfg7hhqpqLLBv6jqjIhdNur4xqt_Gp44Od6NDGVaFPpRnQOXwlzVqO1In5cO8PJfjyysBZ7gVvFSDv3k6CVdxT2jy7Y5AWcjVrrMRCy2BGBzUR-1BVcjcrohuMDiKU3Gs1vW1ZWSS0g/s1600/DSCN7983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nfg7hhqpqLLBv6jqjIhdNur4xqt_Gp44Od6NDGVaFPpRnQOXwlzVqO1In5cO8PJfjyysBZ7gVvFSDv3k6CVdxT2jy7Y5AWcjVrrMRCy2BGBzUR-1BVcjcrohuMDiKU3Gs1vW1ZWSS0g/s320/DSCN7983.JPG" width="315" /></a></div><br />
The other day I got to spend the whole day playing with Jude Hansen. First, let's talk about how low maintenance and enjoyable this child is. Seriously. I was SO nervous going into this gig (apparently I am more fearful of how to interact with a one year-old than I am of presenting the Gospel to an "unfriendly" room full of Chinese skeptics... go figure). But Jude was an absolute delight! Aside from having to occasionally redirect him from playing with light sockets or eating floor fuzz, he was so easy (although, I may have gagged multiple times over his one poopy diaper that required changing)! Maybe my maternal instincts are <i>finally </i>kicking in. I've always been a late bloomer.<br />
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Late in the afternoon I brought Jude to my house where my mom was watching the kiddos. My five year-old niece, Olivia, is really into babies right now, and she was SO excited that I was bringing Jude over. Except that she thought "baby" meant tiny, little immobile peanut that she could swaddle and smother with love and kisses. "I thought he'd be smaller, Auntie. He's so wiggly." The entire afternoon as Jude crawled and explored, Olivia followed him around with pillows and blankets. Anytime he would stop, she would wrap the blanket around his legs, or put the pillow in front of his face in hopes that he would decide to lay still and cooperate with her desires to nurture him. I even caught her trying to carry him around and I think she only nearly dropped him on his head once (don't tell Marli). What a great helper! She was so sweet to watch.<br />
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On a related note, Olivia is soooooo ready to have a baby cousin (her current cousins reside in California). She asked her mom a couple weeks back when I was going to get married and have a baby so that she can have more cousins. Incidentally, I have the same question. :)Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-5372590763722953672011-01-15T22:19:00.000-08:002011-01-15T23:00:55.391-08:00Let Me Explain<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m one of those people who feels that in order to post a blog entry it needs to be long and thoughtful and well-composed. It most certainly cannot be about the ordinary or mundane. Blog entries need to be clever and profound, gripping even.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While I haven’t led the most glamorous existence since my glorious return to America, I certainly have had thoughts and experiences worth sharing. The problem is this darn constipation. No, not of the bowel variety. I have had the worst case of verbal constipation. The more refined might call it “Writer’s Block.” But I’m a straight shooter, and I won’t be faulted for it. I call ‘em like I see ‘em. If there’s something in there that ain’t movin’ like it should. If it can’t come out…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, you get the idea. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Anyway, I’d really like to revive this blog with the flavor of my new reality. Hence, the new name. I feel like it sums up my life pretty well. You see, Jesus has this incredible way of infusing purpose into everything I do – noble or monotonous, stupid or spectacular. He somehow redeems it all, and in so doing makes everything worthwhile. That’s worth writing about.</span></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-13465896677949475462010-10-03T08:14:00.000-07:002010-10-04T06:31:53.739-07:00Ridicule & Redemption<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I watched Bill Maher’s documentary </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Religulous</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> for the second time last night. I’m not exactly sure what inspired this viewing. Of course, the entire point of the movie is to make various belief systems (especially Christianity) look ridiculous, and Maher supposed to accomplish this by interviewing some very odd, ill-informed, blindly passionate and/or willfully deceptive faith leaders. I mean, come on, he visited a Holy Land theme park and interviewed the actor playing Jesus. He stopped in at a trucker church in Memphis and wanted to argue theology. Bill Maher, who is highly opinionated and well-spoken, came at these people with his arguments loaded and ready, and he got exactly what he was hoping for: a barrage of apologetics clichés that carry little to no weight in an intelligent discussion, and believers who appear blind and ignorant in their devotion. Admittedly, I was a bit embarrassed (to the point of having to look away a couple times) by some of the believers portrayed in the interviews. It doesn’t bode well for faith when the critics are more informed than the congregants.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m not saying these things to be critical. Many of the folks being interviewed were totally blind-sided by the blatant opposition and it’s natural to get flustered or frustrated when that happens. I guess I was just challenged by it all. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Living here in China has been so good for me in this respect. While my “critics” are not so informed in terms of tenets or doctrine, they are, for the most part, incredibly intelligent. They believe in money, knowledge, science & evolution and have been heavily indoctrinated by atheism. Talk of miracles, prayer, salvation, even the very existence of God, gets them laughing. To say that I believe the stories I tell, to them, is like having faith in folklore or fairytale. It’s silly to them and they’ve not been shy about letting me know! One has several options when encountering this reaction, and I’ve grappled with them all…</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Become defensive and argumentative</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Try to make the Gospel sound more “believable”</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Feel hurt or offended</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Back down or build walls</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Graciously impart truth</span></span></li>
</ol><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The first response, quite honestly, has never been an option for me. I get too nervous and my heart races, my voice gets all shaky and everyone thinks I’m going to cry. Plus, I’ve found that most people shut down when things take an aggressive turn, and it isn’t really how we’re called to interact with others. Jesus never bullied anyone into believing. Aggression in this context leaves little room for dialogue, or love for that matter.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The second option is always tempting… “Oh, it’s not as crazy as it sounds, promise!” Although the Bible says that the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, there’s always this hope that one can make it sound less divine and more doable. If I can make the Gospel more approachable, make the road less narrow, then certainly my listeners will more readily receive the message (and me!). But then what’s to be made of their concept of this so-called Christianity I’ve presented? They’ve only been deceived into believing in a deficient form of godliness. How is that any different from a cult? The stakes are high and the message requires </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">faith</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Presenting them as otherwise robs the message of its intrinsic power and stunts the growth & effectiveness of those who subscribe to it. Protecting the reputation of the Gospel (or more likely my own) by making it more “believable” is an incredible disservice to the Kingdom of God and its advancement. But the trap is there, and it’s rather attractive when you’re feeling outnumbered and ridiculed. I’ve fallen prey to it and I’ve repented for it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve had my fair share of hurt feelings in response to remarks my students have made. It’s easy to take things personally, especially when you feel like your very reason for living is being called into question. When faith is simply a compartment of your life that’s safely confined to Sunday mornings, it’s probably easier to shake the assault. But when you’ve allowed faith to infiltrate every fiber of who you are – your entire identity and purpose hinging on its veracity – opposition can feel quite intense. Being the fighter that I am, my first inclination is to cry. “Why are they being so mean to me!?!?” (I know, I’m very tough. This is when my big brother would usually come in and beat up whoever’s picking on me.) I’ve fought back tears on several occasions and replaced them with my brave face. The problem with giving into hurt feelings or offense is that it inevitably leads to the fourth option.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dwelling on how bad opposition feels can lead to some serious compromise by way of backing down for acceptance’s sake, or building walls for safety’s sake. Now I’m a big fan of acceptance. I like being liked. But the problem with standing for something is that there will absolutely be people who don’t like you. They won’t agree with what you believe. They may think you’re perfectly tolerable, but your faith makes you an outsider and therefore a liability. To combat this, one can “tone down” their religiousness in order to find social acceptance. I’ve been guilty of this, mostly in not speaking up when misconceptions or poor opinions of God surface. Rather than call people out, I sit back in passive observance repressing any hint of zeal so that I can avoid being perceived as too devout. I don’t want to be one of those “weird” Christians. Of course afterward, the face I saved seems pretty petty, insignificant and horribly selfish. Another way to ensure social self-preservation is to build walls to keep the opponent out. They can’t reject me if they can’t get in. If I can keep my faith-life concealed then it’s safe from any scrutiny and I am safe from feeling bad. Win-win. Right? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Obviously the best option here is number five. In the face of opposition and ridicule, the absolute best response is to graciously impart truth. Hands down. This is what Jesus did. He was never defensive or argumentative. He didn’t shrink back or water down His message so He could enjoy the good graces of society. Jesus, full of grace and truth, spoke with boldness and conviction and was always exactly right. Every time. (Can you imagine living in the freedom of knowing that what you say is exactly what needs to be heard? How incredible!) When I choose any other option, I am choosing fear. I am choosing what appears to be safe or more acceptable. But at what cost? Is preserving my feelings worth leaving others in darkness? The choice is clear, but like I said, the stakes are high</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have not been consistently good at graciously imparting truth while here in Qingdao. I’m sure there is so much more I should have said. I’m certain there are opportunities I let pass, relationships I didn’t seize, and conversations I misdirected. But I know that nothing I’ve done here is without purpose, or at the very least redemption. I mean, this blog entry alone proves that I’ve learned </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">something</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> through this process. And I will say this: facing opposition has solidified and reinforced my faith in immeasurable ways. It’s challenging and sometimes frustrating, but I have never been so sure of in Whom I believe. I’ve never been so sure of His love for mankind. I’ve never been so sure of His patience and affection for </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">me</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. And while I haven’t quite mastered the art of sharing the Gospel, I know that HE is ever at work in and through me, and as I take bold and sometimes fumbling steps of faith, He is gracious to redeem and empower my feeble efforts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m pretty sure that means I could give Bill Maher a run for his money.</span></span>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-14615982392999227622010-09-27T06:25:00.000-07:002010-09-27T07:02:00.410-07:00Inventory: Expectations<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Today my mom told me that I’m a reflective person. When she said that, I started thinking about whether it was true or not. After a lot of thought and consideration, I came to this conclusion:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yep. It’s true. I am.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She mentioned my reflective ways because my American homecoming is fast approaching (Saturday, November 6… EeeeeEeeeeEEEEeeeeee!!!). It’s officially less than six weeks now until my feet are reunited with the glorious soil of my homeland. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“My country ‘tis of thee, sweet land of liberty…”</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> I’m still narrowing down which patriotic anthem I’ll serenade my fellow passengers from Beijing with. I feel like they’d really like </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Home on the Range</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> or </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This Land is Your Land</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Or maybe </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Empire State of Mind</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. We’ll see.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As this season in Qingdao wraps up, it’s only natural that a reflective person such as myself would feel the need to take an inventory of the last several months. I thought of making a list of regrets, victories, things I’ve learned, etc., but that felt hard. And I really don’t think my experiences can be categorized like that. Everything was so intertwined; successes contributing to bouts of self-reliance, failures leading to significant breakthroughs. I think to try to make it cut and dry would diminish the overall experience and somehow discount God’s ability to translate everything into something useful and worthwhile. So, instead I am (or have very good intentions of) writing a series of blog entries highlighting some of the different aspects of my experience. I’m calling it “Inventory”. I feel like I should create a graphic for it. This installment covers expectations…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I honestly didn’t approach my time in China with a lot of expectations. It was a step of obedience and I knew there would be a lot of trusting God, but in terms of particulars, I really didn’t know what to expect. Spiritually, I think I thought one of two things would happen:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">1)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I would fail miserably.</span></div><blockquote><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Journal Excerpt – October 13, 2009<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m having to trust the Lord like never, ever before and something in me is so resistant. I’m in turmoil – inwardly desiring to be obedient and dangerous for the Lord, but scared out of my wits to risk so much. I feel like Indiana Jones stepping out onto that invisible bridge. I don’t know what I’m so afraid of losing. I’m not wild about going to China by myself. I’m not adventurous enough. I’m not courageous enough. Why in the world would God send me? All I can think is that God must see something in me that I am missing; something I can’t see. He believes in me – and probably more than I believe in Him. But I’m scared. What if I can’t trust Him enough? What if I blow it? I’m not good at this. I’ve always played it safe. I’m afraid that I’ll be too afraid to accomplish what He sets before me; that I’ll fail or chicken out. </span></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">OR</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">2)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I would have a yearlong summer camp experience.</span></div><blockquote><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Journal Excerpt – January 11, 2010</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> (on the airplane to Qingdao)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m feeling pretty unlikely these days. I just wonder what God sees. He’s sending me off to China. I’m going because I’m terribly compliant and I really do want to participate in what He’s doing. It’s wild that He would anoint me for this assignment knowing all my shortcomings – those being what I tend to dwell on. But He doesn’t. He’s sending me because He sees my heart and He sees something workable. He sees a willing heart. He sees, not just potential, but the absolute realization of all He’s purposed me to be. Not some theoretical, non-existent future, but the me today who will walk in obedience and set the pace for tomorrow. I want to grab a hold of the Jaime Jesus sees… No more fear, timidity and passivity. I’m taking hold of the fearless, bold and assertive woman God has made me to be. I’ve been picked and I’m going to have to deal with that and rise to the occasion. No more saying what I’m not, because whether I believe something is true about me or not, I’m doing it. I’m being adventurous. I’m being brave and faith-filled. Sometimes actions disprove attitudes and you realize you’re something other than what you always thought. Lord, I’m looking forward to our year together. </span></div></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My journal tells quite the interesting tale of emotional ups and downs. These entries were written before I got here. I’m sure you can imagine the roller coaster post-arrival. Needless to say, neither of my spiritual “expectations” were fulfilled in their entirety. I didn’t fail miserably. I was apparently brave and adventurous and faith-filled enough to make it; to live here and accomplish something. But I also haven’t been living on a mountaintop this entire time. I didn’t always grab that fearless, assertive Jaime by the ears and run with her. To my own shock and dismay I am still a work in progress with lots more for the Lord to prune and refine.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Overall, I would say that my lack of expectations in the particulars led to me being continually humbled by the open doors and opportunities the Lord set before me. Here are some things I never would have expected:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;"></div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">·</span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Teaching the Bible 2-3 times a week at my English school.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">·</span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Obtaining the most colorful & beautiful apartment in Qingdao.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">·</span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My first marriage proposal (don’t worry, I said no).</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">·</span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Unmerited favor in ridiculous measure.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">·</span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A newfound love and increased tolerance for spicy food.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">·</span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Above & beyond abundant financial provision.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">·</span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Resolute faith in the face of ridicule and opposition.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">·</span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A new smile.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">·</span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Numerous conversations with students impacted by the Gospel.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">·</span></span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Incredible friendships that will transcend continents and time zones.</span></span></li>
</ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">These are just a few… I could tell story after story (which I should have been doing on this blog on a regular basis) of all the wonderful and unexpected opportunities and encounters I’ve had. And my time isn’t up yet! I still have several weeks to see how the Lord wants to punctuate this experience. These are exciting times, my friends.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Exciting indeed.</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-39873898399073392882010-08-04T09:48:00.000-07:002010-08-04T09:48:57.634-07:00Two's a Crowd<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sometimes I feel like two people live inside of me. There’s the one that desires entirely to submit and yield to the purposes of God. She wants to be refined and stretched and challenged and used. She wants to press in and kick butt & take names for Jesus.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I like this girl.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But then there’s this other girl living in me. She’s a lazy, selfish pleasure-seeker who doesn’t want to put forth the effort to pursue wholeness. She’s content to settle into her hang-ups, and she’s indifferent to the opportunities beyond those presented to her.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I despise this girl. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I suppose all this is biblical… the whole spirit vs. flesh thing. And I suppose that on some level we all struggle with this. We all suffer from this inner battle to ascribe righteousness rather than recklessness to our lives. Of course we want to do what is good and right and life giving. Of course! But the broader, more destructive path entices us. It tells us that things will be easier if we just give in. Why </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">press</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in when we can enjoy some measure of success without exerting much effort? Why contend when we can coast? Maybe coasting doesn’t sound blatantly reckless or destructive, but consider all that’s being neglected or left undone when we sit back and engage only what come to us. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As believers we’ve been called to </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">take</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> ground. We’ve been commissioned to </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">go</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">make</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">preach</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, to </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">advance</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> the Kingdom of God. There is nothing passive about that kind of calling. But my tendency is to let opportunities come to me. I engage that which presents itself to me and then spend the minimum amount of effort required to enjoy success. And I call this faithfulness. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s not. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s laziness. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I do this in my own life with struggles and brokenness. I whine and complain and ask God to fix me, heal me, free me. And I’m frustrated when it doesn’t happen. But the truth is, I want </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Him</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to do all the work. I want my prayer and desire to be all that’s required of me. It doesn’t work that way. If I want healing and freedom and wholeness I will have to contend for it. I will have to make sacrifices, pursue safeguards, and wage war when necessary. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I did this in college (don’t tell my professors). I cannot tell you how many times I wrote papers and mustered only the minimum effort required to land an A. I knew that I could pull it off, but what if I had spent my four years pushing myself, drawing out all the best that was in me? Maybe my grades would have been the same, but </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> wouldn’t have been.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And most disturbingly, I do this here in China. Everyday I am honored to be a light and voice, to be a tangible expression of God’s love for the people here. I am humbled by the opportunities that the Lord has given me to teach His Word and share His heart. I pray about these things. Sometimes. Usually my prayers begin when the person approaches me, or when I step into the classroom. But what if I spent my mornings on my knees contending for the hearts of those around me? What if I fought for them? What if I engaged heaven and released the will of God in their lives? What if I pursued relationship beyond my office hours? I’ve settled for convenience when I should be counting the cost for the cause of Christ (wow… impressive alliteration there, Jaime). </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Complacency and lethargy are parasites of the flesh that eat away at faith life. They’re subtle and seemingly harmless, until the day we discover that our once passionate zeal for the Kingdom has become nothing more than a malnourished desire to be a good person and get into heaven.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The battle against the flesh is more than just resisting temptation and avoiding sin. The flesh is tricky. It seeks to undermine the spirit with “good enoughs” and “that’ll dos.” It tells us that a little effort is enough effort and if healing and progress and freedom don’t come at that expense, then they’ll probably never come. And so we settle. We settle for what comes our way. We settle for what will get us by. I don’t want to settle anymore. I want my life with Jesus to be filled with opportunities He brings and opportunities I seek Him for. I want to be proactive and vigilant in seeing the Kingdom come, His will done.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The passive, complacent, apathetic, lethargic girl living in me is going to need to find new digs. She’s not welcome anymore. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yet in all these things we are more than </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">conquerors</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> through Him who loved us.”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Continue earnestly in prayer, being </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">vigilant</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in it with thanksgiving.”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“The Kingdom of heaven suffers violence and the violent </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">take it by force</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.” </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“How long will you neglect to go and </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">possess the land</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> which the Lord God of your father has given you?” </span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><!--EndFragment-->Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-1861214564391118952010-07-19T08:40:00.000-07:002010-07-19T09:30:09.254-07:00Meltdown<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Let me just begin by saying that it is hotter than BLAZES in Qingdao right now. It’s not that the temperature is so high, it’s the gosh darn humidity. The weather can appear to be perfectly lovely, nice and warm with a gentle breeze off the Yellow Sea, and then BLAM! Humidity punches you in the face and puts you in a chokehold. Is it possible for air to be chunky? Because it sure feels chunky here sometimes and it makes it hard to breathe. It’s also quite dirty. There’s lots of dust in the air and when it’s mixed with the moisture it becomes a lovely dust particle skin treatment that you get under your fingernails when you scratch all your mosquito bites. I guess it could be considered a kind of exfoliating. There are probably spas here that market it to gullible foreigners. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It wouldn’t be so bad if I drove. The problem is all the walking. I can leave my lovely air-conditioned home, walk ten minutes to my lovely air-conditioned school, and by the time I’m there I find myself soaking wet with misshapen, droopy clothes, hair stuck to my neck and face, and an overall sense of nasty, sweaty grossness. It’s unfortunate. I think I prefer to be cold. I’m much more comfortable bundled and chilly than I am sweaty and overheated. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You know what Chinese men do when they get hot? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrpG4XU4xZprlaqxsw9rwblrKClb5jScXy_ztnYbjEZBLli3i7hgFnqxIULqRYSTY92JeYRBlwt7YnkdwjmB9FGoaXSWdTlUfPUCHRuz3Ea-g8pXn7XwBnTQJM9TlmgH5nWw7Htn0jZyE/s1600/DSCN0088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrpG4XU4xZprlaqxsw9rwblrKClb5jScXy_ztnYbjEZBLli3i7hgFnqxIULqRYSTY92JeYRBlwt7YnkdwjmB9FGoaXSWdTlUfPUCHRuz3Ea-g8pXn7XwBnTQJM9TlmgH5nWw7Htn0jZyE/s320/DSCN0088.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If only I had no shame…</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, I’ve been in China for six months. July 13 was my anniversary and I celebrated by having an emotional meltdown (I think that’s the standard six month anniversary gift actually, like gold on your 50th</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">). My mom and I were skyping and the topic of dads came up. I have a long and sordid dad story and the Lord has been so gracious and caring and present in that daddy place throughout my life. I have been spared so much, but I am not without my father issues and on this day they came welling out of me in dramatic sobs. My poor mom, she was confined to a computer screen and, I’m sure, felt rather helpless in bringing me sufficient comfort. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s interesting the things that Jesus is addressing in my life while I’m here. I feel quite vulnerable in this foreign land without all my people; without my fallbacks and comforts; without my hideouts where I can avoid dealing with hard things. It’s like I’m being stripped bare. God is peeling back my facades and uncovering all the things I’ve camouflaged with optimism and sunshine and cheerfulness. He’s asking me to be honest. He’s asking me to confront unmet expectations and come to terms with the possibility that they may only be resolved and/or fulfilled in Him. And He’s asking me to be okay with that. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It makes me feel like a pouty three year-old who’s upset about not getting her way. I’ve shrouded my disappointment in compliance, but it’s still there. Underneath all the “it’s okays” and “I don’t minds” I’m discovering this stubborn, clinging part of myself. It’s not angry or resentful, it’s resolute. There is a part of me that refuses to let go of hope. Hope is not bad, but this hope is on </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">my </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">terms. And it’s primarily related to my dad. The three year-old in me is still waiting for the magical father-daughter reunion. She is still looking out the window hoping her daddy-knight-in-shining-armor will ride up on his horse and take her away with him. She is still imagining he wants her.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wish I could send in 30 year-old Jaime to have a good, rational discussion with her, but there’s nothing rational or relenting about this girl’s hope. It’s something that only Jesus can address. It’s something only He can touch and transform into the kind of hope that brings healing and wholeness.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I’m okay with that.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve got a few more months in China and I’m sure I have a whole mess of things God wants to address in me. My heart is open and I’m okay with whatever He says because He knows best.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But I’m still not okay with the humidity.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-66107720064740381332010-07-18T04:37:00.000-07:002010-07-18T04:53:46.742-07:00Wants & Wonderings<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes it’s really difficult for me to be honest about my desires. There are definite things that I want in life, but I struggle even to allow myself to voice them. I don’t know if it’s because I’m afraid that on some level what I want isn’t healthy or right, or because maybe I feel like only the less spiritual would admit such longings. Regardless, I have dreams and hopes and desires yet unmet.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m not bitter. I’m not cynical or desperate or hopeless. I guess I’m just wondering. I’m wondering when and where and why and how and IF all these bottled-up wants will come about. I suppose you’re thinking that my longings have to do with getting married, having a family, typical girl stuff. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They do. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But that’s not all. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to stop being insecure.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to have discipline.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to write and actually enjoy it.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to travel the world and make Christ and His love known.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to be okay with hard work and sacrifice.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to feel beautiful.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to feel established as a grown-up. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*the fact that I say “grown-up” instead of “adult” attests to my lack of feeling established</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to be entrusted with something bigger than me.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want people to see more than niceness and sweetness when they look at me.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to be bold and confident and unshakable.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want a man to think I’m adorable. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to never wonder if that man will stop loving me.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to raise children consecrated to God and His purposes. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to sing and play the guitar really well.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to be healthier.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to exercise and eat right and actually see it through.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to know my dad.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to break down misconceptions concerning God.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want my life to be utterly confounding to those around me.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want my faith and obedience to challenge and encourage others.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want my message and preaching to demonstrate the Spirit’s power.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to see miracles.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want every person I meet to know that they’re worthwhile.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to laugh really hard every day.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want contentment.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to see whatever it is that Jesus sees in me.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to voice my opinions with conviction, even at the expense of looking dumb.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to stop fearing rejection.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to live on the same continent as my friends and family.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to be braver.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want to NOT want all these things and JUST want Jesus.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It’s hard.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know these are good things and I know it’s okay for me to want them. What I have to work against is being controlled by them. I have to fight the urge to let their fulfillment, or lack thereof, dictate how I feel about myself, my life, my worth. That’s why I want Christ to replace them. I want Him at the center. If all I want is Him, then I will never be disappointed. Jesus Christ is always a sure thing – His love, His plan, His purpose – and if He is my focus then my satisfaction hinges on Him, not on what He gives or takes away. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Christ who gives me strength.” -Philippians 4:12b-13</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This China life is teaching me a lot about trusting God. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Please pardon the cheesy graphics (close your eyes or something so you don't have to feel embarrassed watching it), but this song is a beautiful expression of this whole process of trusting God... All My Devotion, by Kristene Mueller</span></span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/56h25wL3Ds8&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/56h25wL3Ds8&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-76072032850004994602010-07-01T09:05:00.000-07:002010-07-01T09:08:11.520-07:00Deception<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The other day, just before I was getting ready to leave for work, I heard this really loud buzzing sound coming from my bathroom. I stuck my head in to investigate and the buzzing was so loud and intense that I instantly squealed, ducked and ran out, having no idea what exactly was buzzing (reflex reaction… apparently I’m a flighter, not a fighter). I thought about just closing the door and letting whatever was in there die of starvation or something, but then I thought about it escaping into other realms of my house and I just wasn't okay with the idea of waking up with an oversized insect monster on my pillow. So I put my brave face on and walked (or maybe cowered) into the bathroom, checking every corner and crevasse for the buzzing culprit. My plan was to first identify my opponent and then select the weapon with which to bludgeon it (plunger, flip-flop, giant glass vase to trap and suffocate it with). As I continued my inspection, I noticed that the sound got louder as I closed in on the toilet, so I surveyed all the sides... nothing. Then I thought, "Hm. Is that my </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">toilet</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> buzzing?" It does this trickling water thing where I often have to tap the flush-button to make it stop and I thought maybe it was worth a shot to see if that same trick would make the scary buzzing stop. I cautiously approached the flush-button and did one last squealy jump backwards when the buzzing warbled and it seemed that maybe some ghastly winged creature was flying at my head. Recomposed, resolute and undeterred, I set forth again, tapped the button, and what do you know? The buzzing stopped. </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I hate it when toilets make scary China bug sounds. It causes unnecessary alarm and squealing. The whole episode reminded me of Buddy the Elf when he encountered the horrible noise coming from the evil box under the window (the radiator). Sometimes household appliances are just downright scary. Is a toilet an appliance? </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-7276345955590861082010-06-21T08:27:00.000-07:002010-06-21T08:52:33.478-07:00Courtesy vs. Confrontation<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“For He whom God has sent speaks the words of God, for God does not give the Spirit by measure.”</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> John 3:34</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jesus said some of the most confusing things! Reading his conversation with Nicodemus is just downright confusing. Jesus, what are you talking about? Poor Nicodemus just wanted to find out if Jesus was the messiah or not, but instead he’s met with all this talk about being born again and testimonies from heaven and such. I think I probably would have said something like, “Give it to me straight, Jesus!” But the thing about Jesus was that He was never really concerned with answering the questions people thought they had. He posed new questions and/or addressed the question/answer they </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">needed</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. He didn’t mind confounding people. He didn’t mind leaving them to ponder and consider truth on their own. He always knew exactly what should be said, and it was rarely what people wanted to hear. He spoke the words of God, drawing from a limitless well of wisdom, knowledge and insight made available by the Holy Spirit. “God does not give the Spirit by measure.” </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sometimes I think I get a little preoccupied with telling people what I think they want to hear. I don’t like stirring the pot. I don’t like confronting the exclusivity of my faith, especially if it causes people to walk away or be offended. But Jesus wasn’t afraid. Jesus didn’t avoid talking about the difficulties of following Him and embracing His message. I think if I operated more like Jesus and less like me, I would find that I say exactly what needs to be said at the precise time it needs to be said – even if people walk away; even if people think I’m foolish or crazy or close-minded. I’m not doing anyone any favors by making the Gospel easy to swallow. It is Good News, but it’s a narrow road. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If I want to be effective, if I want to say what </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">needs</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to be said, then I </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">must</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> draw from that same limitless well that Jesus did. I must speak the words of God by the measureless power of the Holy Spirit. It’s the only way I can know I’m saying the right thing at the right time. And it’s the only way I can have assurance that even if someone walks away, they heard what they needed to hear. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lord, forgive me for being more concerned with courtesy than with confrontation. Help me, as one who has been sent, to speak Your word by Your Spirit. Help me do so boldly and without regret. Redeem what I’ve squandered and give me more opportunities to engage people the way Jesus did. Give me wisdom and understanding, but more than anything, give me Your presence and Your Spirit’s power. Thank you for including me in Your plans and purposes. I want my life to bring You glory.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is straight out of my journal. I have more thoughts on all this business and plan to write a follow-up soon... :)</span></span></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-60339871068573894632010-05-03T08:41:00.000-07:002010-06-21T08:31:29.162-07:00Crucified<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pilate presents the people with a choice... </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"And he released to them the one they requested, who for rebellion and murder had been thrown into prison; but he delivered Jesus to their will."</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Man is perpetually prone to making terrible choices. On this day, when given the choice between a Man who gives life and a man who takes it, the people chose the murderer. In all my spirituality I would like to say with absolute certainty that I would not have made the same choice, but I think my flesh would tell a different story. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There are moments everyday of my life where I stand with the raging crowd and plead for the life of the murderer. I petition for the rebel. And in so doing, I send Christ to the cross. It's illogical, and when the murderer wreaks havoc on my life, I come to my senses and chase after Christ all the way to Calvary. There He invites me to die with Him, and again I am faced with a choice.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">How do I want to die? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Do I want a destructive death marked by chaos and brokenness and rebellion? Or do I want a death that leads to peace and contentment and life renewed? It's an easy answer and it should be an easy choice. I'm going to die either way.</span></span></div></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Let us also go, that we may die with Him."</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live,</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">but Christ lives in me."</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">How deep the Father's love for us</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">How vast beyond all measure</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That He would give His only Son</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To make a wretch His treasure</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">How great the pain of searing loss</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Father turns His face away</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As wounds which mar the chosen One</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bring many sons to glory</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Behold the Man upon a cross</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My guilt upon His shoulders</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Call out among the scoffers</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was my sin that held Him there</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Until it was accomplished</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His dying breath has brought me life</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know that it is finished</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I will not boast in anything</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No gifts, no powr's, no wisdom</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But I will boast in Jesus Christ</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His death and resurrection</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why should I gain from His reward?</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I cannot give an answer</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But this I know with all my heart</span></span></i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #191919; font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His wounds have paid my ransom</span></span></i></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-4698998627535270472010-05-02T08:42:00.000-07:002010-06-21T05:56:05.052-07:00Letting Story Guide Us<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This story was crafted through the joint efforts of my roommate, Kelsey and I (although she was the primary mastermind and overall creative genius/composer of this brilliant work). Enjoy!</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Once upon a time, two lovely, beautiful, intelligent, fabulous, hilarious and exceptionally vibrant young women decided to set out to make a story for themselves (thanks, Donald Miller). </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHbn_kGiwiSxcxBS0XjnhVkIM2XtxLSFEMurvLV-Iw1k1l89V3b5vHUkLci7JD6EBM2BFQo7v8SFnVgf1xLuKxW9zf-RN2jf08ye6yVsint5od4Xf4O4Ncd7Pg8cO1zBRQ6b63LUVwGiw/s1600/DSCN5924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHbn_kGiwiSxcxBS0XjnhVkIM2XtxLSFEMurvLV-Iw1k1l89V3b5vHUkLci7JD6EBM2BFQo7v8SFnVgf1xLuKxW9zf-RN2jf08ye6yVsint5od4Xf4O4Ncd7Pg8cO1zBRQ6b63LUVwGiw/s400/DSCN5924.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The story begins in the bathroom, where all good stories begin. Kelsey, the younger and lower-maintenance of the two, took a mere four minutes to complete her morning dressing, hairstyling and basic cleanliness routine. Jaime, on the other hand, likes to feel extra pretty in her stories. And sometimes feeling pretty requires roughly one hour of general appearance overhaul. Now, feeling presentable and ready for adventure, our ladies left their apartment and entered the bustling world beyond their door.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtt8KHODrGrlxDWAgkCbEooXCQUKnZD9vUXce-cmZNgAHwxStuqZ-fQuNO_rSveL7I4NLGg3qEPQv1OPba_ZPJlhaVAR36b4SM1lv_h-oAe5APnHzMjEE_tLyzXHwtXav2dLtSnt2L41Y/s1600/DSCN5905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtt8KHODrGrlxDWAgkCbEooXCQUKnZD9vUXce-cmZNgAHwxStuqZ-fQuNO_rSveL7I4NLGg3qEPQv1OPba_ZPJlhaVAR36b4SM1lv_h-oAe5APnHzMjEE_tLyzXHwtXav2dLtSnt2L41Y/s400/DSCN5905.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After taking the elevator down to the newly white-washed, although still smelling slightly of “mystery and intrigue” lobby, the ladies marched out into the bright light of the great outdoors. They were greeted by a multitude of people coming and going, several honking car horns and a giant, inflated </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hisense</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> arch that only seems to make appearances on weekends and national holidays. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0NFKMot8d3f0iz1xurB_CuDESmbpxIKZZhQRIrjG-jMrhuSY2OllH787tsvlWdNhmjPdRZiqRyMbr4sRCpVR02EdK1sD3jl9HsgO7i4zvjaUxekyaOlkiQQr6FnzJLWOrmt2fAOICsw/s1600/DSCN5906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0NFKMot8d3f0iz1xurB_CuDESmbpxIKZZhQRIrjG-jMrhuSY2OllH787tsvlWdNhmjPdRZiqRyMbr4sRCpVR02EdK1sD3jl9HsgO7i4zvjaUxekyaOlkiQQr6FnzJLWOrmt2fAOICsw/s320/DSCN5906.jpg" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since this was May Day (and the beginning of flip-flop season in Qingdao), our two heroines determined that some good old-fashioned rhyming was in order. They spent several minutes rhyming with the words </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">May</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Day</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and then moved onto more complex terminology like </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">option</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">orange</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They rhymed their way to the bus stop, where they soon discovered that all of Qingdao, and various other Chinese cities, had been given the day off. These smart, environmentally conscientious citizens of the great People’s Republic had opted for the highly efficient Qingdao Public Transit System (QPTS). Before long, a bus without the population of Billings, MT bursting through the windows pulled up to the station. The strikingly attractive, courageous women shoved their way onto this number 228 bus and began their journey west (“go west young (wo)man!”). They decided that they were probably too outnumbered to try and teach their fellow bus riders the American way of the “Personal Space Bubble”.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A mere two stops later, the bus came to a grinding halt and only continued forward in periodic, jerking spurts for the next 20 minutes or more. The air in the bus quickly became stagnant and one young passenger had to make an emergency exit to chuck her morning’s meal on the nearest shrub. She did not re-alight the bus. After an unquantifiable period of time spent standing and bonding with some of their newest, closest friends, Jaime and Kelsey decided it was time for some fresh air and exercise, so they fought their way off the bus and were on their way.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Having exited the bus, the adventurous damsels looked up and down the street at the eternal line of busses and tried, in vain, to count up the number employed by the city of Qingdao. They also waved at their newest fan-base onboard the 228, realizing that their leisurely pace of footfall was more rapid than the movement of the motorized busses. This made them feel like speed demons. Or angels with wings on their feet.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3zFxUKkssHjRskrsuqRpH844xxINqRxR0n2NY0mTIBZVjceg0f3ailw1B0PdncvBzMsmTZouUrLg_P9R7gTWD8JrhWiZiPoEuMKxnW2tk2pBTm9X1qLEr-NYu6RLdNXi0WdH0gKUx_o/s1600/DSCN5907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3zFxUKkssHjRskrsuqRpH844xxINqRxR0n2NY0mTIBZVjceg0f3ailw1B0PdncvBzMsmTZouUrLg_P9R7gTWD8JrhWiZiPoEuMKxnW2tk2pBTm9X1qLEr-NYu6RLdNXi0WdH0gKUx_o/s400/DSCN5907.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In no time they arrived at Tai Ping Jiao Lu where they decided to cross the congested Xiang Gang Lu and venture into the Great Unknown. The Great Unknown just happened to be a lovely park! They pranced and frolicked their way down the cobblestone pathways and paused only for the most meaningful of photo opportunities.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO557kFcymYXJYx8h36LwfxBw4Kyn3zYf5h9412YJxlTF1FwuL8tzIvmOinGyZ6yPO0UXndmqm98MCTl1uwtrltnrrVLm29ZgpTxRJkRy1frpP7-TiSiQbK7JF8x8FwjMUvTKu4m0uyx8/s400/DSCN5911.jpg" width="300" /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKWiYWM3r8slduuCRD35lmf0l-7MN_gc5iBvlJ2rWcYv7U3wI2nCMiK_Juvz17q5Tc75tkLBaRMhoo2toLQDAbxPKQzjKb9MwOLwjTpeQa-nVkPC9yy_HNcafDHHbOvsImh6pySJjQvwU/s1600/DSCN5908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKWiYWM3r8slduuCRD35lmf0l-7MN_gc5iBvlJ2rWcYv7U3wI2nCMiK_Juvz17q5Tc75tkLBaRMhoo2toLQDAbxPKQzjKb9MwOLwjTpeQa-nVkPC9yy_HNcafDHHbOvsImh6pySJjQvwU/s400/DSCN5908.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi117HTaMgH4drmEYtohK8DnZIzlZILKU9lA6eavukm34UQrHnNXbeVDpJW4H55TMm1wRnGEsMNeaknEr54fWrACe1D4zklIWYrSW6RJDd0feFtj_3eccc59COTyJ16Vn5JgZQFNteN4j0/s1600/DSCN5910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi117HTaMgH4drmEYtohK8DnZIzlZILKU9lA6eavukm34UQrHnNXbeVDpJW4H55TMm1wRnGEsMNeaknEr54fWrACe1D4zklIWYrSW6RJDd0feFtj_3eccc59COTyJ16Vn5JgZQFNteN4j0/s400/DSCN5910.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzV4puoYfWAux6rMW6_mlJ0tmXNJta9N12CNIUHWj71fiNrGWNkDO1AEMNXkvp-zRhimoXFDdmEl5X-3YMcu1RkIDWc3FQQptb3jYLyMpEhHjiwIp3_AnsjZ5R9aiwKnOcqeLpeNf7Q6o/s400/DSCN5912.jpg" width="400" /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwGZAWtiFm7tJJK1vxhfS6ptyR8JMfzT35_q0hojr_UtdVH3GYIA2xMULkZPEiBnBMoqVIVO22k8pNlQe0UcOrLbrXrMJkFZT24AzDHd0gSWz4XQtG6hcM1T95imVLiUBrkYMZ1o8YsU/s400/DSCN5914.jpg" width="400" /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After enjoying a pleasant man-made water feature, they stumbled upon some rather enticing specialized old people exercise equipment. Being the fitness fanatics that they are, they quickly realized this was the prime opportunity to shoot their newest (and to date most extreme) exercise video for old people and those that will one day be old. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jaime and Kelsey are so fabulous and white that they cannot go anywhere without being mobbed by adoring passersby. That being the case, while in the midst of their intense video shoot, the ladies were approached by a darling girl with a camera and eager parents dying to take her picture with our heroines. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ntb3vmzEBzcZ6a3OrJD93zG7_U5tSunpLoVSF9xe4V1m6mxX5KPPN3MvqSLJbieXGBHp_H6w5q4rF9Elhw8kdMjmhsmyESPfwS2ipQOgxSMtfgp34LkFER6hH_ccWE8ZjetQlkPSqfc/s1600/DSCN5917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ntb3vmzEBzcZ6a3OrJD93zG7_U5tSunpLoVSF9xe4V1m6mxX5KPPN3MvqSLJbieXGBHp_H6w5q4rF9Elhw8kdMjmhsmyESPfwS2ipQOgxSMtfgp34LkFER6hH_ccWE8ZjetQlkPSqfc/s400/DSCN5917.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Spent and ready for more beauty, Kelsey and Jaime made their way towards the oh-so scenic seaside. While seated on a rocky outcropping, they observed old cooking fires, new cooking fires, people eating food prepared on cooking fires, people catching sea life to cook on cooking fires, and of course, many a bridal couple searching for that perfect shot to represent their eternal love for one another. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4dhRkoIHVGiExOUhEDKOeY91zvC-SpMUbuZhkF3EOtFSBIAm67XLjKci8-ogvUho4TMBoAuHmlpQVcz4T7QP_0ZOJjPaIZEHFY9VabpWXibhviarvP3HEJDpDpECWFVX7OFs9fspYxo/s1600/DSCN5931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4dhRkoIHVGiExOUhEDKOeY91zvC-SpMUbuZhkF3EOtFSBIAm67XLjKci8-ogvUho4TMBoAuHmlpQVcz4T7QP_0ZOJjPaIZEHFY9VabpWXibhviarvP3HEJDpDpECWFVX7OFs9fspYxo/s400/DSCN5931.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The duo continued their walk along the seashore where the sweet sounds of Canadian songbird Celine Dion echoed with the crashing ocean waves. Jaime of course had to join in. Kelsey was too busy avoiding the merchants selling their seashell monkeys and squid kabobs. Nothing wets your appetite like the odor of fresh squid flesh being seared on an open flame. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtSwWzjcoSjDem3FXDMcOJ1_X5XpVoDPaMvA4mGDgyOMBwXTpt_hUnqWUOygWHd6ztjOnTQJohg_ZdePAhrRHNNMm6g43ppo5YmvjZsT6jHfbms_kKv_-UdjtJeui88zGKbZ7L798LV0/s1600/DSCN5935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMtSwWzjcoSjDem3FXDMcOJ1_X5XpVoDPaMvA4mGDgyOMBwXTpt_hUnqWUOygWHd6ztjOnTQJohg_ZdePAhrRHNNMm6g43ppo5YmvjZsT6jHfbms_kKv_-UdjtJeui88zGKbZ7L798LV0/s400/DSCN5935.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Soon the Number One Bathing Beach appeared on the horizon. Well, it would have appeared had it not been eclipsed by the innumerable hoards of Chinese pleasure seekers seeking pleasure in the sun, sand and surf of Qingdao’s number one bathing beach. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPmSxEs6oialTGfwHKb-DdfIUv6pFVmperQLs-XGG9WRcmvGC-uy4irehYjx-N7kCkVTsyXtakPwUiO4C-7EToMnBnzsPp3QQhnL6YiR-bpblZrQxkOjyAYO4ZdYaQ5na46EVE6u9I8g/s1600/DSCN5945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPmSxEs6oialTGfwHKb-DdfIUv6pFVmperQLs-XGG9WRcmvGC-uy4irehYjx-N7kCkVTsyXtakPwUiO4C-7EToMnBnzsPp3QQhnL6YiR-bpblZrQxkOjyAYO4ZdYaQ5na46EVE6u9I8g/s400/DSCN5945.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Intrigued by the size of the world’s most populous country, our little adventure seekers wandered about taking in face after face after face after face. After ample wandering, a twinge of hunger struck their delicate mid-sections. They discussed their options for nourishment and began seeking transportation by which to acquire said nourishment. It was then they realized just how much 1.6 billion is. Finding suitable transportation became a challenge which folk with less faith would label “impossible”. But not these two. No, these two knew that with white skin and minimal language skills, anything is possible in China. Thus began the hunt that would end one ill-fated, directionally challenged bus ride, several long, arduous treks and many failed taxi waves later.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgVSQ9WigermyDByOgH37DTyoIfKkz3tHZIzl_5EslLCAo4pToo51S_NbgAt4H10zgrNWhVtd76oKM7t2eIZZlotkK6xlKt9aKT4A_KV_lY3wAe-QgpkRxATNu4MyoXWTF8dDU6fTvhs/s1600/DSCN5947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgVSQ9WigermyDByOgH37DTyoIfKkz3tHZIzl_5EslLCAo4pToo51S_NbgAt4H10zgrNWhVtd76oKM7t2eIZZlotkK6xlKt9aKT4A_KV_lY3wAe-QgpkRxATNu4MyoXWTF8dDU6fTvhs/s400/DSCN5947.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mr. Ma was a very unsuspecting Knight in Shining Armor. In fact, there was no shining armor in sight, save his meticulously maintained taxi – which despite his efforts in maintenance, seemed to have a flat tire. The brave, although now tiring and devastatingly famished, damsels were in for a longer ride than they had originally anticipated. They should have known when the taxi started traveling the wrong direction that something was amuck. But they trusted Mr. Ma. He had saved them from the treacherous curving overpass where they had desperately sought a way out of the west side. To his credit, Mr. Ma tried to explain in detail what was happening. Unfortunately, his English vocabulary could best be described as “limited”, and our heroines lacked the lingual abilities to translate his explanation. After a few minutes of driving in an area of town neither had seen before, the car stopped at a fix-it shop. It was gently lifted and the tire replaced, all while the ladies lounged comfortably in the back seat.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYfzw3uIDT4sEbTgcIjhSovHYTH1CZ5NsQ9DzV_Jcth62Ny8OOG_FPYeCTD_c78MtoImNtRB-HLE0z2b3m99-TBiDO5LwDCBW_0cVqgtRPpnmmedZGeRi0IwNbBmO46NA2LiMXVaTZq8w/s1600/DSCN5949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYfzw3uIDT4sEbTgcIjhSovHYTH1CZ5NsQ9DzV_Jcth62Ny8OOG_FPYeCTD_c78MtoImNtRB-HLE0z2b3m99-TBiDO5LwDCBW_0cVqgtRPpnmmedZGeRi0IwNbBmO46NA2LiMXVaTZq8w/s400/DSCN5949.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tire fixed, our trio was back on the road. In good time, they arrived at their destination: iGo, home of delicious, Turkish delicacies. After a trip to the ladies room, two Turkish burrito things were rapidly inhaled, and the day was punctuated which a mutual sigh of relief and satisfaction. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDaxtJ6Y6reJkf_K0FT5KStMAXEjZhljYgNMSSqfj8Plk4Y_fKUT-Uhc569z5DmL30mCXdQ00lENfGnNtK_f1tC2Ueel3Ns6b99ElgnH75eahTaieO32VjtLvwApWyCtxdXHd-IuQJeKo/s1600/DSCN5950.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDaxtJ6Y6reJkf_K0FT5KStMAXEjZhljYgNMSSqfj8Plk4Y_fKUT-Uhc569z5DmL30mCXdQ00lENfGnNtK_f1tC2Ueel3Ns6b99ElgnH75eahTaieO32VjtLvwApWyCtxdXHd-IuQJeKo/s400/DSCN5950.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sxAsygF6eU9plgyViupXJdAsLmPcLpz52Vj72Rw1I8a0rLyONCa9vfAyltT_riPp7OqIThpynRqFDdB3MPZMGgyKRv58pv5cHj8UZrvBsEAlLHy5KAZRsLbObIGSFeo6CCAHsim5-d8/s400/DSCN5951.jpg" width="400" /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Our ladies, now nourished and decidedly less agitated, returned to their humble abode (via one last uneventful bus ride where *gasp!* they even got seats) where they proceeded to do a few of their favorite activities: make cookies, eat them, watch The Office and check Facebook. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Overall, it was a splendid day with a story so splendid it was almost beyond description. Almost.</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-4211238478336367032010-04-30T10:00:00.001-07:002010-04-30T10:00:34.208-07:00Jesus, Jack & Rosco<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I think Jesus may have negotiated a beautification project with my building’s owner. Something strange has happened to the shoe-print stained walls and the lingering urine odor in the lobby. The walls are now bright white, and the air is fresh (well, as fresh as you can expect when the whole of the city is filled with various aromas). The stacks of bicycles and motorcycles scattered throughout the hallways have mysteriously vanished. The floor is swept. The elevators are wiped free of mosquito carcasses. The lights are bright and operable. We even have a coded front gate and an on-duty security guard now. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I like the security guard. I say “ni hao” to him every day. I think he likes me too because he always smiles big enough for me to see his missing teeth whenever I walk by. I imagine his name is the Chinese equivalent of Larry or Hank or Rosco. Nice guy names.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I suspect Jesus to be behind all the prettiness and safety because I will soon be living here in this building all by my brave self. I won’t have anyone to come home to. There will be no roommate to account for my safe homecoming. No other English speaker to listen for and understand my desperate cries should anything unsavory happen to me. Jesus decided to make provision for this lack by bringing Rosco into my life. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> will care whether or not I make it home safely each evening. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> will listen for my cries, though foreign and indecipherable. With Jesus and Rosco on my side, this living alone business will be a breeze. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This morning I woke up early. Not on purpose. My phone rang at 7:43AM and I answered it half expecting a wrong number, but was instead greeted with a boisterous “Ni hao, Jaime!” I quickly recognized the thick Southern accent to be that of my new friend, Jack. He was calling from an airplane about to depart Qingdao for Shanghai. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I met Jack on Tuesday evening. He’s a rotund man with a belly like Santa Claus; he’s loud and jolly and so darn endearing you can’t help but instantly like him. He came to Qingdao to visit a mutual friend who invited us all to her house for a Chinese feast. The evening was spent around the dinner table listening to Jack recount story after story of his cross-cultural adventures. Jack’s a CPA from Tennessee, but said his </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">real</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> job is Ambassador of Christ. He’s traveled near and far making Christ known, gathering brothers and sisters and sons and daughters. I told Jack that I think he might be an opportunist because of the way he seizes every chance, obvious or obscure, to share the love of Jesus wherever he goes. He once sweet-talked a Tajik government official into issuing him a visa after he was discovered in the country illegally. Then he shared Jesus with him! He ministered to two Muslim men at an airport somewhere and managed to get himself an open invitation to stay in their homes should he ever visit Israel. This man could convince Osama bin Laden out of hiding and convert him to Christianity. I’m sure of it. He’s full of Southern charm, likability, and absolute resolve.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In between stories, Jack would occasionally burst into song. It seemed at times there was too much passion in him to be contained – even by all his size and stature – he had to let the praise and thankfulness and awe release. He may implode in gratitude to God otherwise. At one point, Jack asked me if I was a singer. When I timidly said, yes,</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">he threw a songbook at me and made me sing hymns at the dinner table. Our Chinese friends joined in, singing the songs in their own language. Jack hung his head and wept. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was so refreshed by my time with Jack. I just felt instantly bonded to him, inspired by his passion (which seems too flimsy a word). His goodbye hug on that night was so good and so tight, I could barely breathe in his affection. When he called me this morning from the airplane he told me he was so happy to have met me. He said I was now his adopted daughter, whether I liked it or not. He said he loved me; that he was proud of me; that he’d be keeping track of me and praying for me. I hope he does. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What a world this would be if there were more Jacks in it.</span></span><o:p></o:p></div><!--EndFragment-->Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-61096363218946923192010-04-28T08:57:00.000-07:002010-04-28T08:58:36.988-07:00Oh, Failure...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is from a journal entry I wrote back in October. I stumbled upon it this morning and it completely hit the spot. I thought it was worth sharing...</span></span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Then the Spirit of the Lord will come upon you, and you will prophecy with them and be turned into another man. And let it be when these signs come to you, that you do as the occasion demands, for God is with you... So it was, when he had turned his back to go from Samuel, that God gave him another heart, and all those signs came to pass that day." I Samuel 10:6-7, 9</span></span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can relate to Saul, but I don't want to be like him. Maybe in this experience I do, but not the Saul who loses sight of his calling and purpose; not the Saul who fails to carry out, long term, the new heart, the transformation that took place in his life this day. He reverted, and in his digression sought to prove that he was more than who he argued to be previously (</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Am I not a Benjamite, of the smallest of the tribes of Israel, and my family is the least of all the families of the tribe of Benjamin?)</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Oh, but I want to be like Saul on this day. He's anointed king, receives a specific prophetic word and then acts accordingly that it might be fulfilled. AND he was given a new heart! He wasn't just a Benjamite. He wasn't just from the least of all families. He was now the king. He became another man.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I want to become another woman. I'm tired of me. I want a new heart. I want to carry out the prophecy spoken over me. I want to take my position of authority. But I don't want to fail. I don't want to become like Saul. The thing that gets me though, is that God chose Saul knowing that he would fail. He knew he wouldn't be a perfect king, but he would be the right king for the right season. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Saul's brokenness and tendency toward failure did not keep him from being chosen. On the day that he was anointed king he was filled with the Holy Spirit. He was re-created into the man he needed to be. At that point he stood a chance. But as he walked out his anointing, he moved farther and farther away from the Source that gave him the ability to do so. He would have failed, inevitably, but maybe not detrimentally. And maybe therein lies the answer for me.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can relate to Saul. I can desire the experience, the encounter, the anointing, but I have to remain in the Source. There my failure finds redemption. I can't fear stepping out to serve the Lord based on my impending, inevitable failure. I'm prone to it - everyone is. But am I close enough? Is my heart soft enough? Am I connected to the One who, by His grace, absorbs my failure and extends His favor? </span></span>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-92221144591148060202010-04-26T05:12:00.000-07:002010-05-03T07:15:43.051-07:00A City on a Hill<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, I guess it’s true what Jesus said…</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You're here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? ...Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I'm putting you on a light stand. Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.” –Matthew 5:13-16</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last week in one of my English Corners I was attempting to explain some of Jesus’ teachings using the Sermon on the Mount as an example. Seems simple enough. Right. Except for the part where it wasn’t simple at all. It’s time I let you in on some of things I just did not anticipate about teaching the Bible in China…</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Never mind the sizeable hurdle we have with the language barrier. It’s to be expected. And it’s actually pretty easy to navigate thanks to those handy electronic pocket dictionaries – even for words like </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">omniscience</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">circumcision</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> (which unleashed a chorus of gasps when it was “eDictionaried”). Some words can’t be eDictionaried, like </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">transubstantiation</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The real obstacle is this: I am teaching the Bible to people who have had absolutely no exposure to it whatsoever. None. No concept of Christianity. No Sunday School. No “Jesus is My Homeboy” t-shirts. No </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In God We Trust</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. No </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Ten Commandments</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> on Channel 5 every Easter. No Easter, for that matter. For most of the students, what I tell them about the Bible is the only thing they’ve ever heard. On top of that, the majority of them have been told their entire lives that there is no God. Atheism is the official “religion” of the Communist Party and it is widely propagated in the public sector. And while Buddhism has a pretty strong influence in culture here, most people interact with it as legend or folklore – not so much a belief-system that’s to be taken seriously.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Let’s just say, I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into when I agreed to tell Bible stories in my English Corners three times a week! </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I began my Bible teaching endeavors at the beginning. I told the story of Creation and worked my way chronologically through Genesis up to the Exodus account. I stopped after the children of Israel began their wandering. I had been answering far too many questions concerning God’s justice and treatment of man. You know, the redemptive purpose of the stories in the beginning are much better understood if you already have some idea of the stories at the end. Honestly, what I thought would happen was that I’d start at the beginning and paint this portrait of mankind’s depravity. All the students would agree with me and feel so hopeless in their lost condition. We’d work through the stories, man would be lost, God would be the good guy, and everyone would be thrilled and jump around in celebration at the proclamation of the Good News! I pictured something very </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5355408420145402636#"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">EeTaow</span></a></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">-esque. But what happened was the students began saying things like, “God is playing games with man.” “Why is God so cruel?” “He just wants to control everyone.” God wasn’t the good guy. He was the bad guy, and poor innocent man was just His little pawn. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wait… not exactly what I was going for.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, I’ve changed my tactics a bit, not to avoid difficult questions, but to provide some important context. I don’t think starting at the beginning was a mistake. We were able to tackle so many questions and difficulties that may have never come up if we had started anywhere else. But when every problem we encountered was answered in Jesus, I figured it was time to make Him the focus. Now I’m spending lots of time in the New Testament telling stories about His message and ministry. We’ve gone through some parables, some miracles, some teachings. The questions still come up, but they don’t seem as cynical now. God can’t really be viewed as a cruel puppet master when seen through the life of Jesus Christ.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">These last several months have been the most challenging </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ever</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in my entire faith walk – in a good way. Never have I been on display like I am now. “You are the light of the world. A city on a hill </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">cannot</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> be hidden.” I can’t hide. Literally </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">everyone</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> at my workplace knows that I am a Christian. Some people respect it. Some people think I’m crazy. Several times I have had students laugh at me when they discover that I </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">actually</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> believe the stories I tell. I’ve been mocked for saying that I pray and believe that God speaks to me. I’ve been told that I believe in a fairy tale, that God can’t be real. I’ve had coworkers say, “No offense, Jaime” as they sit and discuss Christianity. I’ve received looks of pity and condescension (isn’t she cute for believing that) and disdain. My faith has been challenged in every way and from every angle. And it’s not like I’m walking around like some super Christian weirdo. I am not making a spectacle of my faith in such a way that it deserves criticism. I’ve been given an opportunity to share it openly in a classroom setting, so that’s what I do. Everything else people see is just me (or hopefully Christ in me).</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m not complaining. It’s actually pretty incredible getting to experience faith in this way. I’ve always been sheltered in my beliefs. Sure, I went to public school and I’ve worked in some secular environments, but even in those settings being a Christian wasn’t weird –not like it is here. I’m a total novelty. Everything I do is scrutinized. Not because people want to see if my life lines up with my faith – to prove that I’m a hypocrite. But, rather, because they want to see how</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">my faith affects my life. People want to see if what I believe distinguishes my life from theirs. And I think they’re starting to notice that it does.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the midst of all the criticism and ridicule (which is rarely mean-spirited), I have received some pretty phenomenal feedback. I have had several students tell me how much they admire me. They talk about how I am always happy and smiling; that I’m kind and sweet and friendly; how they admire my faith and wish they could believe as I do; how I seem to enjoy life; how I don’t seem affected by all the pressures they’re affected by. That last one is a biggy. The Chinese put a great deal of pressure on themselves to be successful. They are rarely allowed contentment – self, family, and employer all demand that they work harder and earn and do more. I’ve shared with them what biblical contentment looks like, and expressed how freeing it is to trust God with every aspect of life. It takes all the pressure off when you’re not the one required to make something happen. I told them that my future is secure – even if I don’t know what it looks like yet! I think my life confounds them.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, all the challenges and hurdles of teaching the Bible in China are totally worth it (of course). I think they exist for my benefit anyway. My faith is soaring! I'm getting to truly experience Scripture...</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> "Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, </span></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander." -I Peter 3:15-16 <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">I've never had to so blatantly live out what this verse says. It is SO so so so so good. I'm getting put through the wringer, and I love it. I need it. Maybe we all do, on some level. </span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yep, Jesus was right. “</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I'm putting you on a light stand. Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine!” </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I think I always thought this was optional… It’s not. I became a city on a hill the day I decided to follow Jesus. The question is, how bright have I been? I’m feeling pretty bright right now. But maybe some landscapes have higher hills and darker skies. Whatever the case may be, I want to shine ever brighter. </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-21578907571518179792010-04-07T07:47:00.000-07:002010-06-21T05:59:49.549-07:00Perspective<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It seems I do my best thinking as I walk to and from work each day. There’s something about my surroundings that stimulates introspection and wonder and laughter.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The spectacles vary from day to day…</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Today there was a rather putrid smell in the air – a strange blend of raw sewage and wet, nutty coffee grounds. My concern over the smell intensified as I approached a small river rushing over the sidewalk with no bridge or detour providing a means to avoid walking through it. They were further confirmed as the smell dissipated with distance. Thankfully my trek through the rapids didn’t soak my pants or my shoes and I am now safely on the other side, odor free.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m also fascinated by the traffic here. Not the street traffic - the sidewalk traffic. Sidewalks aren’t the safe-haven they claim to be. One must be careful to dodge the hoards of people on a mission who, with all the space in the world to maneuver on </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">their</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> side, refuse to change course, forcing their opponent into a finely choreographed dance through the masses (this is most common at crosswalks). And people aren’t the only threat. Once the crowd clears (or not), one must be mindful of sidewalk bicycles, motorcycles and the occasional </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">car</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. It’s always a bit unsettling to hear horns blaring behind me, thinking I am safe and sound from whatever incident incited the commotion, only to discover that they're blaring at me… on the sidewalk!! How dare I walk so cavalierly on a pedestrian path!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My favorite thing is to walk while listening to my iPod. I love the soundtrack it provides for the odd reality that is now my own. The music adds color and dimension to the world swirling about me. Accompanied by the right song, the old man transporting his toddler grandson on the handlebars of his bicycle becomes less dangerous and more daring. The children weaving through the market, dodging grown-ups and giant slabs of pork shoulder become that much more carefree and entertaining. The work-worn faces of the villagers building the next sky rise become more vivid and pained and beloved. Eyes become landscapes of hopelessness. Smiles become reminders of redemption. It’s amazing, the power music has. My simple walk to work transforms into a pilgrimage where humanity dazzles in its frailty and creation dances with expectation. It’s beautiful.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFNaystluI_-kBRLURY3JSsKYOWcURQNS-i7PZO2Y-AvLapL4Ncq1SL7_sNb_S0I8PX7LTA1_p1NIsE0_cSZJSuThCA02xgKRVH7Lh_xbZ_rWRcA-8GbZ84XE5rfGRq9N4-pCYSmrehE8/s400/IMG_6956.JPG" width="400" /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></span><br />
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</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Spring is finally beginning to make its appearance in Qingdao – though timidly. The frigid edge in the breeze is still present, but the trees are budding and sun is shining, and it seems as though it might be time to retire my big puffy coat (it was so good to me). With this change in weather, I’m sensing a change in season for myself as well. I don’t really know how to explain it… I don’t feel anxious. I don’t feel overwhelmed with searching out and discovering some grand purpose beyond what I’m doing now. In fact, I’m finding a great deal of purpose in this season of </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">solitude</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. In the aloneness and the quiet. Yesterday I had a good cry while reading and journaling from the Word. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Here’s my entry…</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.” </span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">-Galatians 2:20</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve always focused on the first part of this verse. It somehow seems easier to dwell on how often I fall short in this area; how I need to work harder and die more frequently. My flesh must die so Christ can live through me. And while this is true, I think it might be more productive for me to focus on the latter part: the Son of God loved </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">me</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and gave Himself for </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">me</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Why in the world would He do that?! I just can’t understand it. I can’t comprehend a love for me so great and so perfect that it would be provoked to die on my behalf. What makes me so worthwhile? What makes me worth dying for? I know I should die for Him. But it’s incomprehensible that He would die for me. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A still small voice whispers… </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Jaime, you were worth dying for.”</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am loved beyond what I could ever hope or imagine to be. This love is greater than fairy tale or fantasy because it’s </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">real</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. It’s true. And I don’t have to just </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">hope</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> for it someday. I get it now. I get to live every day surrounded by and saturated in this love. The crazy, irrational love that seems only to exist in fiction is afforded to </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">me</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in the </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">extravagant love of Christ. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Revelations like this will be what shape my time in China, and ultimately, my life. Being here </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">alone</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> allows the Lord room to speak directly to my heart, to whisper His opinions in my ear, and to complete me (Hebrews 13:11 - repair, prepare, adjust, equip, make fully ready) for whatever lies ahead. I too often seek these things from the mouths of people. He’s taken me to a place where ready access to a prophetic voice is found only in His Word and at His feet. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s frightening, to be honest. I argue with Him constantly and remind Him that I’m no good at this. I’m not good at intimacy and consistency. Yet He pursues. I’m not here to prove myself. He brought me here to prove Himself… to me.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wow. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Humbling.</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-55595721114654011062010-03-31T21:27:00.000-07:002010-03-31T21:32:49.248-07:00Proverbial Truth<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"T</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">he fear of the Lord leads to life, and he who has it will abide in satisfaction; he will not be visited with evil."</span></i></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> ~Proverbs 19:23~</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Fear of the Lord: K</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">nowing He is boss. Trusting Him absolutely. Believing what He says. Obeying what He commands. Honoring Him in life. Giving Him glory in deeds. Reverencing His name and making it known. Hating what He hates. Loving what He loves. Surrendering everything to Him. Laying down my life, dreams, desires and taking up the ones He has for me. Acknowledging His presence and purpose in everything around me. Seeing with His eyes and responding with His heart. Being quiet. Speaking up. Taking risks. Having dangerous faith. Dying everyday so He might live through me – or rather, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> might live through </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Him.</span></span></i></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The fear of the Lord is life.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Satisfaction: a constant state of being filled and fulfilled. Confidence and peace. Worry-free living. Knowing where I’m supposed to be. Doing what I’m supposed to do. Being who I’m meant to be. No wondering. No wandering. No doubt. No regret. No fear.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I will stand tall and walk boldly. I am an ambassador of love and truth and life. I am a carrier of the supernatural. Evil cringes at the sight of me. It cowers in defeat. Aimlessness and frustration have no place in my life. I know my God. I fear Him alone, and I am sure of the good things He has for me. I </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">will</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> abide in His satisfaction. No one and nothing can take it from me. My God is bigger and stronger than the thieves that seek my treasure. They do not stand a chance. No way. No how.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The fear of the Lord is satisfaction.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“The fear of the Lord leads to life, and he who has it will abide in satisfaction; he will not be visited with evil.”</span></i></span><o:p></o:p></div></div>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-74050798685769848992010-03-28T04:26:00.000-07:002010-03-28T04:35:46.201-07:00Cool Ranch & Greener Grass<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m not sure what it says about my life (or me, for that matter) that the absolute highlight of my day was stumbling upon this delightful bag.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I just opened it, and I am now savoring each and every little green and red MSG flavor fleck. I am experiencing the “ballistic Doritos crunch as it unleashes an explosion of cool ranch flavor in” my mouth. It’s awesome.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s like being home.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Until the bag is gone.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I find myself searching for familiarity a lot these days. Mostly in food… I suppose because it’s the most tangible way to “experience” the familiar. I’m actually texting my roommate right now about all the great import products they have at the Hisense grocery store near the seaside (we cope in similar fashion). I’ve also spent a good deal of time lately taking in episodes of 30 Rock and The Office on DVD, and now with my fancy, outsmart China VPN thing, I can trick the internet into thinking I’m in America and watch anything I want on Hulu! So between Hulu, Facebook, and a Chinese website called, www.youku.com, I can waste tons of time escaping into mindless television shows and movies. Just what I intended for my adventure-of-a-lifetime move to China.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m having a little bit of a hard time.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This morning I went to church and I found myself agitated and pouty throughout the entire service. All I could think about was how much I wanted to be at my own church. I thought about how great the services are, and how I could walk through the Courtyard and be stopped at any point by people who love me, and how I never had to sit alone because of my three incredible best friends. I thought of being hug-handled by Mary Ann, watching Joe dance at the door as he welcomes people to service, saying “hello” to Brooks in his walk-by way of saying it, sharing a workspace with Christy and Kristen and having fun visitors (you know who you are) sit on the blue couch to discuss important “work-related” matters, making coffee with Rhonda and learning how to be like her someday when I grow up. I thought about NLMI and Starting Point and worship and communications and being a part of something so authentic and exciting and impacting. And I thought about how I traded all that in for this life I have in China. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Did I do the right thing?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yes.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Am I doing the right things now?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That’s where I’m unclear.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know I was supposed to come here. Leaving everyone and everything was not easy (it still isn’t), but I know it’s what God was asking me to do. And I know He was asking me to because it was right in the midst of SO many good things. I wasn’t running away. I liked my life. I was doing something worthwhile and living a pretty great life with amazing friends and family. I was living it up in green pastures… at least that’s how it feels now that I’m on this other patch of grass. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Honest moment: I don’t like teaching English. I’m not very good at it. I feel like I’m an insult to the profession. Real teachers are incredible people with incredible skill who spend time and energy and money refining their craft and using their amazing abilities to impart knowledge. I show up at work, pull a blue folder out of a cabinet and follow an outline to teach people about cooking methods and business telephone etiquette. The blue folder tells me everything I need to know, except how to explain nonexistent grammatical rules and how to define everyday words that, in the moment, seem completely indefinable. I like to write in and speak the English language, not teach it. But here I am in China teaching this strange and complex language six (!) days a week. Did I really sign up for this? Or did I mess something up?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Even telling the Bible stories is proving terribly challenging. The thing about Chinese students is that if they are not impressed or amused by you, they have no problem walking out of your class (if they have the option). The other day my English Corner began with about 12 or 15 students. Slowly they left, one by one, until only four remained. It was SO hard not to take personally. I truly, honestly do not know what to do. I know that I need to spend more time preparing and praying and trusting that the Lord will show up and do something unseen. I guess I just want Him to do something seen. I want the people who give me condescending and “isn’t she so cute for believing that” looks to come face to face with the God they scoff. Not to be put in their place, but so that they can know Him. I don’t want to just </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">tell </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">stories about God. I want to put God on display. I want his love and power to be demonstrated…</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“And they went out and preached everywhere, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">the Lord working with them and confirming the word through the accompanying signs</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.” Mark 16:20</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is what I want. But I don’t just want this in the classroom. I want this on the city streets, in my apartment building, on the bus, at the beach, in restaurants and shops and street markets. I want to leave a trail of miracles and hope and life. I want to leave the reality of Jesus with every person I pass. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately, I’ve brought a bit of complacency to China with me. I thought it would be easier to be spiritual here, away from everybody and all the things in life that are usually so distracting. Turns out, distractions can present themselves anywhere. And I’m not just talking about 30 Rock and The Office and movies on youku. The real distractions are my own sense of inadequacy and failure, my fear of intimacy and loneliness. My laziness. So rather than face these things and combat them with the truth, I escape into the tidy world of twenty-two minute sitcoms, where bite-sized life problems are easily resolved and wrapped in humor. It’s easier that way. Until I leave my living room and collide with my own reality. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I probably won’t stop watching TV. It’s not the problem – plus it’s funny. But what I need to do is begin to prioritize what is important to me here in China. I need to kick my distractions in the face and stop being a baby. Do I want to go back to America having learned nothing? I can be faced with many lessons and choose not to be shaped by them. Do I want that? Do I want to live here and miss God opportunities because I’m too busy wishing I were back at home languishing in, what appears to be from this view, greener grass?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why am I here? </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What’s it all about? </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Am I finally ready to press in and find out, or will I continue to mope and escape and stand around while God is waiting for me to take ground?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“How long will you wait before you begin to take possession of the land that the LORD, the God of your fathers, has given you?” </span></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Joshua 18:3</span></span></i></div></span></span>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-16236847309717661292010-03-27T08:22:00.000-07:002010-03-27T08:22:33.786-07:00The DigsI’d like to begin by apologizing for leaving you in such suspense.<br />
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I’m sure you’ve been waiting, hoping and expecting each day these last two weeks or so to find another update from me that captures the shiny wonder of my new apartment. I will do my best to never fail you in this way again. <br />
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Please find below a link to (maybe overly) detailed footage of my new digs. I tried to muster all of my cinematic skills for this shoot. You <i>should</i> feel nauseous. It will enhance the experience.<br />
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Enjoy!!<br />
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Oh, and you’ll notice that I now have a housemate! I invited my coworker, Kelsey, to come and stay with me for her last two months in China. She is from Michigan and has been in Qingdao since August. Her living arrangements were less than stellar, so I thought she might enjoy living it up with me for her last bit of time here. She is lovely and fun. She likes chocolate, she watches The Office AND she’s already watched the entire second season of Full House on DVD since living with me.<br />
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Did I make a good choice? You got it dude!<br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/video/?id=685751003">Facebook Videos</a>Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-87117353666056459492010-03-05T07:51:00.000-08:002010-03-05T08:33:34.172-08:00Fabricated Birthdays and Princess ApartmentsI am officially 30 years old.<br />
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I don’t know how it happened, but according to my mother and the State of Washington and America, it’s true. China doesn’t believe it though. China thinks I am 22… and this is why I love China so very much.<br />
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Most of you know that my birthday is on Leap Year, so this year I didn’t have an actual day to mourn the loss of my twenties. It’s always a little bit tricky on birthday “off” years to decide when exactly to celebrate. Usually I opt to occupy both the 28th and the 1st with festivities (or maybe the entire week, depending on how deprived I am feeling). I wasn’t sure how all the celebrating would pan out this year since I’m in a foreign country without all my people to gush and compensate for my lack of a day, but it turned out to be quite lovely.<br />
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Side Note: Having a Leap Year birthday is actually pretty awesome. People feel really sorry for you and treat you extra special when your “should be” birthday arrives. I probably shouldn’t tell you this. Oh no… Never mind. Please feel free to continue to feel sorry for me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On Sunday, the 28th (the first day of my sort-of birthday) I decided to be very brave and venture out, unaccompanied, to the International Church. It’s an English service hosted entirely by foreigners, mostly American. It was SO refreshing. I need church, and I need it in English. I’ve attended Chinese services every Sunday since coming to Qingdao, and while they are perfectly lovely, I cannot understand a lick of what is being said (except for the occasional word here and there). I mostly just feel tired and eager for the service to end when I’m there (I’ll still attend the Chinese church’s Friday night youth service though – they have a great English study that meets every week). The International Church service is very similar to what you’d experience in most churches on any given Sunday – music, message, mingling, etc. I had the opportunity to meet some great people, including three (!) families from the Seattle area! One of which was gracious enough to allow me to crash their lunch plans. This particular family has lived in Qingdao for eight years, they have three very blond, very blue-eyed children (who all speak Chinese), and the husband serves as one of three elders in the fellowship. They were so great! They gave me lots of tips for China living and even ended up being a great connection in my apartment hunt (more on this later). <br />
</div>After lunch, I went back to my hotel. I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that a moonpie might be as close as I would be getting to birthday cake this year. And I was okay with that.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAh4LySJivET9EfdRcBtGZaHjgV1woqJkE2HR0WfVusYLZ8QOkuJWTQ-CLEdhV3LlEFwYQyhskuGZJLyEbBfPb9_6Kd7y70gB2qxH7ahUzX7i0Y_DzW-PNE_dJhhPBscRuO3oY94WlBc/s1600-h/Moonpie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAh4LySJivET9EfdRcBtGZaHjgV1woqJkE2HR0WfVusYLZ8QOkuJWTQ-CLEdhV3LlEFwYQyhskuGZJLyEbBfPb9_6Kd7y70gB2qxH7ahUzX7i0Y_DzW-PNE_dJhhPBscRuO3oY94WlBc/s320/Moonpie.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Mostly…<br />
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But then my friend called and said that he was on his way to see me. When I opened the door he wished me a Happy “Fabricated” Birthday (because they prefer fabricated over “fake” here) and presented me with dinner and birthday cake, complete with birthday crown and candles!! <br />
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(Does that look like the face of a 30 year-old? Come on!!)<br />
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It was SO nice!! And to top it off, the 28th marked the end of the Spring Festival, so the sky was lit up with fireworks all night long. I choose to believe they were set in celebration of me and this incredible milestone (sort-of) birthday of mine! Either way, it felt pretty special. <br />
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Day two of my birthday meant that I was actually 30 (I don’t become a year older until March 1st on off years). I was surprisingly emotional and had several weepy spells that morning. As if turning 30 isn’t potentially traumatizing enough, let’s try and do it in a foreign country without family and friends. It was a little harder than I thought it would be. But I powered through my morning and made it off to work where I could forget my woes in English grammar (never thought I’d say that). Work was a great distraction, as was the post-work trip to Dairy Queen!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yep, that’s right, I said Dairy Queen. Good ole DQ. My co-worker, Kelsey, who is from Michigan, took me there after work to celebrate with Oreo Blizzards. It was awesome. It’s funny how DQ can feel like an old friend when you’re living someplace where familiarity is rare.<br />
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Oh, AND the birthday fun will extend even further as I anticipate the arrival of a package from all my favorite people in America. It will be a package bursting with wonderful surprises wrapped in pink polka-dot paper (courtesy of Michelle). I can’t wait!!!<br />
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In other news, this week I have been very busy searching for the perfect apartment. I am SO ready to be done living in this hotel. It’s a very nice hotel, but it’s a hotel. It feels transitional. You can’t settle into a hotel… not when you’re anticipating moving any time. I want to feel settled and like I have a place of my own. And, my friends, I think I have found that place!!!<br />
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Remember the lovely Seattle family I was telling you about? Well, they connected me with this darling Chinese gal named, Ice (her Chinese name is Bing, which means ice in English), who offered her services in helping me find a suitable apartment. I met with her Wednesday afternoon and we set off together with my friend, Bojun, to see what we could find. <br />
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Throughout the course of the afternoon I think we viewed upwards of 15 apartments!!! I tried really hard not to be too picky or to impose my American standard of living on what I saw. Some of the homes were actually very nice, but none of them really stood out as “the one.” A lot of the bathrooms and kitchens seemed dirty and dingy, and some of the homes felt dark or cramped. I obviously don’t need anything huge. I’m going to be living by myself, but I am anticipating a few guests this summer and I’d like to have a nice home to welcome them to. Plus, part of me just wants my home to not feel like China. I hope that’s okay to say. I want my home to be a refuge where I can feel free to be as American as I want. If I can somehow manage that without being pretentious, then that’s what I want. <br />
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It wasn’t until we viewed the very last apartment of the day that my hope for this reality came into view. We were all totally wiped out, but decided to look at one last place. It was on the 28th floor of an apartment building located in a courtyard where an outdoor farmer’s market comes and goes everyday. Outwardly the building was very unimpressive, the lobby was dank and dirty, but when we arrived on the 28th floor and the apartment door opened, we were transported to another place - a place where everything was new and shiny and pretty. The apartment was absolutely gorgeous! The whole interior had been completely redone: new floors, fresh paint (green even), new doors, remodeled kitchen, all new furniture and appliances, new tile, new everything! The two bedrooms were bright and spacious (and fully furnished), the kitchen was roomy (by Chinese standards) and the living room area was big enough to have friends over. The wet bathroom provided an actual space to stand while showering and a fancy showerhead that falls directly on you like rain from heaven. Just stunning! Plus, it’s only about a ten-minute walk from my work (all on main roads)! But here’s the real kicker (don’t be jealous)… All of this loveliness could be mine at the (truly) low-low cost of $350 a month!!!<br />
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Insanity. <br />
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Needless to say, I was ruined for any other apartment. I wanted to take it right then and there, but apparently that isn’t how things roll in China. Ice informed me that it’s standard to wait one or two days before making a decision. So, she arranged for us to view a few more apartments yesterday, which honestly felt rather futile since I had my heart set on the pretty one. But we looked, and I considered a couple of back-ups in case my princess apartment was no longer available. <br />
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Home hunting in China is stressful. It overwhelms me. I realized today that I have never had to make this kind of decision on my own. I’ve always lived with other people. It feels like the stakes are increased by ten thousand when I’m making all these kinds of considerations in a foreign country all by myself. I want to live somewhere safe, somewhere convenient and somewhere shiny and pretty. That’s all I ask. And I think that this apartment offers all of these things.<br />
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But then enter my friend, Bojun. He is probably the world’s greatest worst-case scenario worrier (that’s why his friends call him Whiskers… anyone?). He likes to use dramatic scare tactics to help me “understand” Chinese culture. When he offers “advice” and things for me to “consider” it usually includes me being crushed in some natural disaster or being robbed or killed or left for dead with no one to help me because I don’t speak Chinese (the latter point being the most frequently emphasized). He will go on and on about these things, but then end the conversation with a supportive, “You have a good brain. You will make a good decision. I only give you things to consider.” Oh gosh, thanks. That’s not stressful at all.<br />
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So, here’s how I decided to play this one out. I told the Lord that I really really really really really really wanted the pretty, pretty princess apartment. It just felt like an absolute gift from Him – the kind of place a father prepares for His daughter because He wants the very best for her. It’s like a little Chinese Barbie Dream House, without all the pink and plastic furniture. So I told the Lord that if there was something bad or terrible or unseen about this place, then I needed Him to make it completely unavailable to me. I’m way too sold to be reasonable or rational about it now. So if I shouldn’t move there, then I don’t want it to be an option.<br />
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It was an option.<br />
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Ice called the agent this morning and we met with her and the landlord, a lovely woman who has a son living in America. The apartment was originally for him and his new wife, but he decided to stay in the U.S. instead of returning to China. She was thrilled at the idea of renting to me because she said it feels like I’ve traded places with her son (basically, she wants to mother me, and I’m totally down with that). So, we met and went over some of the details of the rental agreement. The rent will be paid in three-month increments (which is something I had specifically prayed about since most landlords require an entire year’s rent in advance), and she will pay for my cable and for a thorough deep-cleaning of the apartment before I move in. I’m meeting her at the apartment on Sunday to tell her how I want the furniture arranged (so crazy) and to sign the rental contract.<br />
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I’m really excited! This apartment is SO much more than I ever could have imagined finding in China (Jack & Shirl, you will NOT be disappointed). And as far as all of Bojun’s concerns, I honestly don’t believe that the Lord would send me here and then allow me to walk right into danger. I have many lessons to learn in China, but I don’t think that is one of them. And all the terrible things Bojun imagines could happen to me anywhere I live, even at home (minus the not speaking Chinese part). And just in case you need your mind further eased, I did ask my Chinese friend, Deanna, to come along today and her impressions of the neighborhood and the apartment were very good. She did not seemed at all concerned for my safety. Bojun has a history of overreacting to the big decisions I’ve needed to make in China, and after they are made, he usually agrees with me. I’m sure that will be the case with this one too. He’ll learn.<br />
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So barring any big huge doors being slammed on the deal, it looks like I’ll be moving in next week!!! Yayayayayay!!!!! I took some pictures, but they really don’t do the apartment justice, at all. As soon as I can, I will shoot a short video tour for everyone to see the beauty. It’s jaw-dropping.Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-17010905406152301952010-02-22T07:53:00.000-08:002010-02-22T17:34:32.188-08:00Normal LifeI don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want people in America to be awake when I get off of work. When did 4AM become too early to start the day and maybe enjoy a lovely Skype chat with a friend and/or family member who is all alone on the other side of the world (feel guilty yet)? I don’t think it has, nor will it ever be. It’s a perfectly and entirely reasonable hour for anyone to begin the day. And besides, I need my people to be available to me no matter what time it is (as long as I’m awake). Especially today…<br />
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I am bursting!!!<br />
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The day started out with very little motivation. I could barely muster the will to get out of bed this morning. I’ve been exceptionally tired the last few days (thanks to many contributing factors), and have just been feeling really distracted and mope-y and wimpy and like I have no purpose here. What am I doing in China? What was the point in coming here? I thought coming here would make me feel more spiritual and dangerous. But the truth is, I’m just living. I haven’t noticed any heightened awareness of the Divine. No angelic visitations. No voices from heaven. Everything feels so normal. Like I’m just doing here, what I did at home (except for the foreign country part).<br />
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But then the Lord shows up and reminds me in His wonderfully inclusive way, what this living in China business is all about. <br />
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When I got to work this afternoon, I noticed that I was scheduled for an English Corner Bible Story lesson. Normally I know at least a day or two in advance when I will have one, but today I was not prepared. I didn’t even have my Bible with me! Thankfully, my class load was very light and I had several free hours to plan and prepare for the lesson. This was to be my fourth lesson, so going in order from the beginning I was now at the story of the tower of Babel. <br />
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I’ve honestly been feeling a little bit discouraged about the English Corners. The first one was SO great, but the following two just felt kind of awkward and like the students weren’t interested or my heart wasn’t into it. I definitely didn’t feel confident in sharing the stories (Adam & Eve and the fall, and Noah’s Ark), I think because it felt like I was presenting a God who was constantly punishing mankind. “Oops, man messed up again… now God has to do something about it. Sorry guys, no more garden. Curses for you. Great big flood. Everyone dies.” These stories sure seemed a whole lot more chipper when I was a child. Maybe a felt board would help.<br />
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I had been asking the Lord if I should start somewhere else, but I never really got a clear sense of where else to go. I just wanted the students to know the end of the story so they could more fully understand God’s heart. The feedback I had been getting up to this point was that “God was afraid of man’s power… or repressing man from being greater than Him… or that it was all just a game to God.” I just wanted to grab people and say, “No! You don’t understand… this is only the beginning! Wait until you hear how He really feels!” All along I’ve been trying to convey the heart behind God’s interactions with man and that He’s not cruel or vengeful, but that He is merciful and just. I’ve tried to help them see His mercy in the midst of what might seem harsh, but when the teacher is struggling to find it (knowing it in my heart, but grappling with it in my head), the students probably won’t be too convinced of its validity.<br />
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It’s baffling to me how I can (truly) believe something with all my heart, but shudder at the thought of sharing it for fear of looking silly or like I’ve bought into a Fairy Tale. Really, Jaime? What ridiculous and selfish pride you have. It’s so frustrating. I’m just glad that God chooses to use me in spite of this terrible tendency. And I look forward to the day when it no longer rears its ugly head.<br />
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So, today… I decided that rather than just plan to tell the story and let students ask random questions (believe me, they get real random and off topic), I would come up with some discussion questions to go over afterward. This was a very good idea. Telling the story only took about ten minutes (the tower of Babel account is only nine verses long). I had crafted the questions to intentionally lead the students toward questioning the character of God. Questions like, “Why do you think God confused man’s language? Was it cruel or merciful of Him? What does this story tell us about God?” Something else that was different this time was that I didn’t “have all the answers.” I would throw the questions back at the students and when they would express an opinion about God’s “threatened-ness,” I would ask them to expand and explain why they thought that (I think I learned this from watching Joe Slawter – he’s a master at this kind of stuff). This proved to be a really great way to get the students talking and to delve into territory outside the direct story, but still well within the context of God and His character. It was awesome.<br />
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Somehow (no doubt by divine providence), the subject of the Trinity came up again. I briefly touched on the three members of the Godhead and listed them on the board. Students seemed to really grasp the roles of the Father and the Holy Spirit, but they struggled with understanding Jesus – who He is and what His “role” in the Godhead is exactly.<br />
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Oh! Well, let me tell you!!!!!!!<br />
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From that point on, I was able to share the entire Gospel story with the class. The whole thing!!! I talked about the “death” Adam & Eve introduced to mankind and how since then man had been making effort after futile effort to regain relationship with God. I shared about the life and ministry of Jesus. Why God sent Him, what the prophets said about Him, what He did on earth. I told the students how He was perfect and blameless and how He became our sin. Faces were very solemn when I described His arrest and crucifixion – I didn’t spare the gruesome reality of what He suffered. I explained the holiness of God and how Jesus took on the punishment of our sin so that we could approach God and stand blameless before Him. I told them how when He rose on the third day He conquered that same “death” that was imposed upon mankind at the fall. We’ll still die, but we no longer have to be separated from God. I explained salvation and how Christians believe people are saved. I shared the simplicity of “believing in your heart and confessing with your mouth…” Scripture was pouring out of me. It was so incredible. I would have given an altar call if I could’ve! <br />
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Every ounce of insecurity went running as I shared. I felt bold and confident and SO completely aware of the Lord’s presence. I wasn’t overly eloquent. I stumbled and stammered my way through the story, but I was certain of what I was saying. I was confident in the truth. I can’t really even explain it… it’s like nothing seemed more believable than what I was saying. I knew it was true and I wanted everyone in that room to know it too!<br />
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After I shared about Jesus, one student asked why, if He was perfect and if He was God, didn’t He defend Himself or make them stop. That’s when I got to share about His love; about the “joy set before Him,” and how we were that joy. He didn’t defend Himself, He didn’t make them stop because He wanted us. He wanted relationship with us and He knew the cross was the only way. It was so powerful. Even the students who seemed less than convinced hung their heads in humility. It was all I could do not to cry. <br />
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And this, my friends, is why I am in China. <br />
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I guess this “normal” life I’m living here isn’t so normal after all – at least not in the conventional way.<br />
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<em>“We must redefine ‘normal’ Christianity so it lines up with God’s idea of normal… The normal Christian life begins with the realization that we were put here to do the will of God on earth as it is in heaven – and what joy it is to participate in that.”</em> (from The Supernatural Power of a Transformed Mind by Bill Johnson)<br />
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I think I did a little bit of that today. And the thing about it is, I didn’t feel exceptionally “spiritual” leading up to this incredible hour. I had simply submitted the time to the Lord and asked that He be present. I lent Him my voice and He took care of the rest. I want this to be my normal.Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4049823633552529052.post-64656676044903622522010-02-14T12:33:00.000-08:002010-02-14T12:35:18.549-08:00Xīn Nián Hǎo!Happy Chinese New Year! It’s the Year of the Tiger and I’m really hoping to get one this year! That’s why they give years animal names, you know. So you can meet and adopt them as pets. I’m really glad it’s not the Year of the Snake or Rat. That would be terribly unpleasant.<br />
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My friend, Bojun and his mother invited me to spend the first day of Spring Festival with them at their home yesterday. The festivities began at noon, so I made my way there (eggs & milk in hand) ready to see how this important holiday is celebrated. Apparently, it’s primarily celebrated by eating <em>nonstop</em>. From the moment I walked in the door, I had plates and plates of food set before me. It started with dried fruits and nuts of all kinds: pecans, dried dragon’s eye (I was told this was fruit, not real dragon’s eye… but one can’t be too sure), macadamia nuts, sunflower seeds, dried figs soaked in honey, and pumpkin seeds. This was all the precursor to lunch: fried pork, giant shrimp (completely intact), stir-fried veggies, soup, other things I can’t remember, and of course… jiǎozi (gee-ow-dza). Otherwise known as dumplings, jiǎozi is absolutely required for a proper celebration of the Chinese New Year. And it’s so delicious! Bojun’s mother made it from scratch and stuffed each little one full of different meats and vegetables. It was divine.<br />
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By Chinese standards I am an incredibly slow eater. This works for and against me on days such as yesterday. Eating slow means I realize when I am full before I’ve absolutely stuffed myself, which is awesome, but it also means (to my Chinese hosts) that I have not eaten enough (a half-full plate of leftover jiǎozi is absolutely unacceptable). If I could just eat really fast and stuff myself before my brain realizes how full I am, then I wouldn’t be forced to eat until I start gagging from fullness (this may have happened yesterday). I honestly think they gauge my appetite by my outward, not inward, size – an unfortunate misconception I often try to combat by using my hands to show how big my “inside” stomach actually is. The fullness and gagging was taken to the next level when the post lunch plates of fresh fruit were served. <br />
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Please forgive me in advance for this next little bit of information. I only share this to fully convey my experience yesterday.<br />
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Soooo… I’ve been a little bit “stopped-up” lately. Not sure why or what may have caused this problem, but it was the source of much anxiety going into yesterday’s festivities, especially as I anticipated eating a lot of foods that promote regularity. It wouldn’t have been a problem, except that the facilities situation at the Liu residence is less than ideal. At some point during all the food consumption, Bojun informed me that I shouldn’t eat too much (even though he was the one practically force-feeding me) because going #2 would require a special trip to the #2 bathroom. You see, their bathroom is outside next to their house, and it isn’t actually a bathroom. It’s a shower - a tiny little cement shower that you squat down and pee in (which is extra trixy at night when there’s no light to help you see whether you’re peeing on yourself or not). So had I needed to go “big potty” it would have necessitated Bojun escorting me to the “special” bathroom in the main house, or to the 4-star hotel down the street.<br />
Nothing like discretion. <br />
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Thankfully, my fervent and effective prayers spared me. I did not have to take any special trips nor did I experience any painful side effects from yesterday’s mass consumption. I literally ate for eight hours straight. After the fruit plates, the dried fruit and nuts were reintroduced … and then came dinner with it’s succession of courses. Not to mention all the tea and milk and juice. <br />
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Overall, the day was really enjoyable. The hospitality extended to me was exceptional, and at times a little bit awkward. Bojun’s house is small… just one room with a kitchen, and a little loft that you get to by climbing up a bamboo ladder through a hole in the ceiling. The “living” room doubles as Bojun’s bedroom, so his bed is right in the middle of everything. By late afternoon, he and his mother were insistent that I take a nap. I really didn’t want to. His mom kept making up the bed and telling me to lay in it, so rather than fully lay down I’d go and sit-lay… this went on for a couple of hours. Finally, I gave in. I didn’t nap or fully recline, but I “cozied” in a bit more, which gave Bojun’s mother the go-ahead to tuck me in. She grabbed a blanket, tucked me in tightly and threw a hot water bottle in under the covers to make sure I’d stay warm (I actually really liked that). It felt very odd to be sit-laying in someone’s bed right in the middle of their living room. I felt like the grandparents from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Except I was the only one in bed. <br />
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I was surprisingly emotional yesterday and at points I really, really just wanted to go home – not to my hotel. Home to America. To the familiar and comfortable where I’m known and understood (both as a person and when I speak), where someone will understand why I think something is funny without having to explain it, where I can have a normal flavored potato chip (not kiwi or shrimp), where I can <em>fully</em> express my thoughts and opinions in unbroken English. I can’t really even tell you where it all came from. My hosts were lovely and inclusive and hospitable. Maybe it was just watching their family dynamic and realizing how much I miss my own. I don’t know…<br />
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It got better when we all gathered (around the bed with me in it) to watch the national New Year’s production they do every year in Beijing. It was so fun! The production is four hours long leading up to midnight and includes performances of all kinds: dance, song, comedy, magic, drama. Bojun interpreted enough of what was happening so I could keep up (at least for the speaking acts). The night ended with an invitation for me to spend the night (which I politely declined) and a shared cab ride back to my hotel. But not before Bojun’s mother whipped out a measuring tape and began taking my measurements (over my puffy winter coat)!!! I do not know why or what for, and I couldn’t ask her because she doesn’t speak English. So who knows what I might be receiving! A tiger costume to ring in the New Year?<br />
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I hope so.Jaimehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09357742261120480498noreply@blogger.com1