Reflections

Categories Family & Friends, Reflections, Thankfulness

Luckiest girl on earth

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If I said I was the luckiest girl on earth, I wouldn’t be the first to say so. But that doesn’t change my general sense that I am indeed the luckiest girl on earth. And why might I be so lucky? What happy occasion heralds this joyous exclamation?

I began to realize it last night, when I told my family that it was official: Love Memorial Hall and AGN will be doing a bike-a-thon to raise money for Cedars Youth Services. We will be riding our bikes to the Missouri game on October 22. I mentioned that I should probably bring my bike back to the hall and start doing some serious riding before then. My mom told me that she’d gone out and gotten me a new inner tube for my bike as soon as she’d heard that I was possibly going to participate. My old tube was leaking around the stem and couldn’t be patched. My little brother Timothy put it on for me. But not only did he replace my inner tube, Timothy also prevented me from taking the bike back to the hall until he had adjusted the brakes so that they wouldn’t rub.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world because I have a family like no other. My sister offered to take me back to the hall in her new car, but took a bit of a circuitous route. First she dropped by Walmart to get me all of my little necessities–tissues, printer paper, deoderant. And not only that, she ran me by Wendy’s and got me a sandwich and a Frosty. What have I done to deserve my sister’s lavish gifts? Nothing. She works her butt off between going to school and her job as a Diet Tech, and I enjoy the fruits of her labours.

I’m the luckiest girl because for a seventh grade research paper, my dad brought me to UNL’s Love library. It was a research paper-why not go to a research library? He believed I could understand what I read and I was determined to prove him right. We wandered the stacks at midnight, searching for just the right book. We walked the stairs with crisp turns, pretending we were nerds without needing to pretend. In sixth grade, he got a book on HTML and wrote up an announcement to post on our family bulletin board. “Wanted: Web Designer. Must have at least a fifth grade education. Will train. Send resumes to…” I sent my resume in and got the job. We skipped, hand in hand, in the SAMS club parking lot on our way to get milk for the family.

I’m the luckiest girl because my mom spent five hours adjusting the bodice for a pattern I just couldn’t get to fit. It was supposed to be a simple pattern, the design of the dress would be a cinch to sew. I hadn’t counted on the adjustments–Mom patiently walked me through them. When I was in second grade, she read us The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I loved it and always will. When my fish died and she found it before I did, she flushed it so I wouldn’t have to. And when my bike had a leaky inner tube, that I didn’t even know about, she bought me a new inner tube.

I’m the luckiest girl because my sister Anna, though I once thought she was my worst enemy, is my best friend. Out of the blue, she announced to me that she was paying my car’s registration–“After all, I think you might have paid mine last year.” She’s at home because she can’t afford the hall, so she buys me everything I need to be comfortable here. She came and cooked for me on my busy day–despite the fact that everyday is her busy day. She never lets me dwell on crushes. She protects me from my own mind. To paraphrase Colonel Fitzwilliam, she takes prodigiously good care of me.

I’m the luckiest girl because I caught my brother Joshua as we were crossing Cornhusker Highway on our bikes today–going the opposite direction. I waved and shouted, and he was a bit embarrassed. But he’s my brother and it’s okay. When he’s in the middle of a deep history conversation and I break in with a piddling contextual question, he patiently answers. He lets me read his stories, even though I’ve always been a hard critic. And he took on my dish job when I went away to college.

I’m the luckiest girl because I’m always trying to one up my brother Daniel at busyness. I go to school and do a thousand piddly things. He goes to high school and works almost thirty hours a week. But that doesn’t mean he’s too busy to drive me around while the gas prices continue to rise. He’s always trying to torque me off about women’s lib, but I know that he respects me as a woman and as his sister. He started to work out and dropped fifty pounds after he scared himself at 200 lbs. And he had the grace to let me come to the gym and spot for him–even though I’d never done it before. He let me buy him some jeans for Christmas last year–even when I insisted on them being European style. And he asks me for clothing advice. He actually thinks my opinion matters.

I’m the luckiest girl just because my brother John is alive and is my brother. Because he loves missions and is on our church’s mission team with me. Because he loves children and begged me to let him help out in the nursery–we work together so that he’s not a boy alone with them. He’s got more energy than anyone I know, and he never lets anything get him down. He loves people and he wants to do everything within his power to help them. He’s the only one of my siblings who doesn’t correct me when I sit down at the piano. And he actually begs me to cut his hair–even though I cut his ear the one time I tried.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world because I can talk to my brother Timothy about books. We started with Lemony Snicket, back when he hated to read. Now he’s begging me to read Eragon, because he thinks it’s the best thing in the world. We read Phantom of the Opera out loud together in three days. We discussed our melancholy over loving and hating Eric at the same time. Tim’s growing up and his voice is deepening, but he isn’t outgrowing his sister. He comes up to me at youth group and gives me a hug, tells me about his day. He’s gotten into fixing bikes recently, and wasn’t content until he’d gotten my seat to just the right height.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world because my little sister Grace spent the night with me on Saturday. She helped me prepare the Sunday school lesson, and tried to pick out what I wore. She asked my advice on the right kind of eyeshadow to get as her first makeup. She asked me if I thought Meg Cabot’s All-American Girl was appropriate for her. (It isn’t.) She asked me “What does eighties music sound like?” Grace sewed me a patchwork pillow that perfectly matches my decor, being careful that all the little people on the toile fabric pointed in the same direction. And she only glares at me but does no more when I call her Trixie for the thousandth time.

And that’s only my immediate family. I could go on for pages and pages about the rest as well. How my grandpa checked my antifreeze and gave me an extra jug before I came back down from their farm last spring break. How my grandma and my aunts and I always get into huge theological discussions every time we’re together. How my Aunt Martha-ma-ba took me for a drive and asked me why I was thinking about going into teaching. How my Aunt Lisa, new to the family, had my sister and me over for a week when we were eight or nine. How my Uncle Jim solemnly informed us not to drink the pickle juice out of the pickle jar until the pickles were all gone. How my Uncle Leo places coffee filters on the girls’ heads and suggests that we become Mennonite. How my Aunt Alice organized a family dance after we discovered that we enjoyed dancing together at my cousin’s wedding. Yes, I could go on forever, because I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Categories Reflections, Technology

Internet Stalker

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I have a confession to make. I’m an internet stalker. Seriously. I have a bad habit of going on blog stalking kicks. Every so often, I get in the mood to hear about people’s lives so I check their blogs continuously-multiple times a day. The more frequently a person updates their blog, the more likely I am to stalk it. I lurk behind the scenes, checking the blog compulsively several times a day, never revealing my name or giving comments.

If people knew what I did, they might wonder why I stalk them of all people. Well, anyone unfortunate enough to have added me as a friend on Facebook is susceptible. And if that person has linked another person I know on their blog–I stalk them too. And if you happen to go to my church and have a blog–I’ve added you to my list too.

Because a list is what I have. On the link toolbar of my web browser, under F, then under Friends, is a list of links to weblogs. About once a month I run through them all–those that are updated frequently, I add to my mental list of sites to check frequently. Of those, the ones that disappoint me the least when I’m running through them, are the most likely to be stalked.

The video from CAPS we watched in Health Aide class mentioned that most people with psychological disorders think that they’re alone–that no one else experiences the same problem they do. Well, perhaps I have the reverse. I want to believe that I’m not too unusual–which is why I also compulsively check my website’s webstats. I have a log of every computer that has accessed my website–organized by IP address. I ping each computer so that I can discover the name of the computer–my website was visited x times this month by UNL computer lab computers. Look, I gave that person my web address three months ago and this is their first visit–at least I’m pretty sure that I know who that person is. Be careful what you name your computer for the sake of the network. It may give me clues as to who you are. Better to keep with a generic computer name if you want to avoid my detection.

But, alas, for all my attempts to discover that everyone is indeed a blog stalker like I am, I discover that they are not. Or if they are, they do not stalk my site. I am and am likely to remain the most avid visitor of my own website–even though no one else visits it, I keep the webstats page as the second most visited page after my home page.

It’s a tumor–benign or malignant I do not know. But it grows, preying upon my time. Sometimes it divides quickly, sometimes slowly, but it keeps growing. In a life that I have made too busy for real interaction, hearing of someone’s life second hand is the best I can do. I need to do something–and quickly. Because my busyness is a disease, taking over my life.

Categories Everyday Life, Reflections

The Overwhelming Numbness of Completion

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Have you ever felt the overwhelming numbness of completion? That’s what I felt yesterday. Packing my bag for the afternoon and evening’s tasks and realizing I don’t have anything to study for. I can’t go into the office now because there’s nothing there for me to do yet. I can’t run errands because I don’t have any to do. Everything is completed.

And it’s the most uncomfortable sensation I’ve ever experienced. Nothing to do. Nothing to avoid doing. I’m always either running to do or running away from doing something. This, this is something new. I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t understand leisure, only avoiding work. I don’t understand relaxation–only the collapse of exhaustion.

I’m a workaholic without a job, addicted to deadlines, to hurrying, to busyness. If I have a free moment, I fill it. If I’m crunched, I add just one more thing. My heart is thrilled with the challenge of twenty-nine things to do in twenty-four hours. My schedule doesn’t affect my to-do list. Heaven forbid I do less because I’m gone more. No, I must stay busy.

And so the dull ache of Elijah, mission accomplished, now sitting alone under the terebinth tree. Addicted to busyness, I’ve forgotten that the goal was completion. Now I’m done, and when I should be celebrating-I’m begging for another buzz.

Categories Reflections

Coming home

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Returning from retreats is always melancholy for me. So much has changed in a brief amount of time–Now I must see how much of that change will last.

I meet new people, develop relationships. At the end of the week or weekend or whatever, we feel as close as any two pals can be. But now we’re back. Now the context is completely different. We all have our own sets of friends; we all have our own schedules, our own worries. All those things that, set aside, enabled us to have a relationship on a retreat, are now back at full force.

Walking around campus, I spot a familiar face surrounded by a group of unfamiliar faces. Do I smile, wave, go up and say Hi? I’m nervous. This is a new context. I’m not sure what to make of it. What f I’m an embarrassment in front of their friends? What if they’re too busy to talk with me? Now that they have their own friends, their own schedules, their own lives, maybe I’m not needed anymore.

Don’t mistake my words, there are plenty of people I’ve grown close to on retreats that I’m still friends with today. Week in the Word was a prime example–anytime I see girls from there or they see me, we rush across the room to say Hi. We ask how it’s going, sit around and chat for awhile. We’re still friends, not uncomfortable around each other. Still, it’s not the close-forged friendship of mutual experience that was formed on the retreat. Instead, we’re catching up on each others’ lives, lives we haven’t been a part of for a while.

I’ve always been somewhat of a loner, but I keep busy enough that I rarely recognize loneliness. Retreats, however, bring that out. It’s when I get back from a retreat that I long for a girlfriend that I can bare my soul to and she to me. It’s when I get back from a retreat that I long to have friends I can just call up and hang out with. It’s when I get back from a retreat that I wish I could count guys as everyday friends.

But I’m back and it’s busy again. Awkwardness keeps me from following through on what I want. Inertia kicks in and I do nothing to develop those friendships. I don’t even know how to develop friendships–and learning takes work. So returning from retreats can be melancholy for me.

Categories Faith, Reflections

On Leadership

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J. Oswald Sanders, in his book Spiritual Leadership, says “Spiritual leadership requires Spirit-filled people. Other qualities are important; to be Spirit-filled is indispensable.” Last night, I had a revelation of just that.

I was a bit depressed at the lack of interest for God that I was seeing in my girls at youth group. Few were even singing during worship, much less showing any emotion. I think a whole two brought their Bibles and only one was taking notes. Then a line from Remember the Titans popped into my head. “Attitude reflects leadership, Captain.” As soon as the thought came, I dismissed it. The sponsors were singing, even raising their hands. The sponsors had their Bibles and a couple were taking notes. We were doing fine-it didn’t have anything to do with us.

But as the service continued, I began to contemplate my life as a youth sponsor. I thought of our last meeting, where I’d urged more and more student involvement in leadership as a way of allowing the kids to gain ownership of Z-360. I thought of all the ideas I’d jotted down in my notebook–games to do, things to teach on, activities to do together. I realized I’d been applying human answers to a spiritual malady. The kids aren’t excited-let’s have more games. The kids aren’t involved-let’s give them more opportunities to get involved. The kid’s aren’t in the Word-let’s do a teaching on the importance of the Word. But none of those are the answer we need.

When one of the sponsors mentioned at our meeting that the real problem was our students’ spiritual state, I brushed it off. After all, what could we do about that? That’s an easy way out, a pat Sunday School response. It’s a fatalistic response-if the problem is that our students are spiritually dead, then what can we do?

Back to Remember the Titans–“Attitude reflects leadership, Captain.” I thought about it and realized I can’t remember the last time I sat down with the other sponsors and prayed for Z-360. I can’t remember the last time where we sat down together to testify of God’s greatness or to share in our struggles. I don’t remember the last time we opened the Word together. I don’t remember the last time we ate a meal together. I don’t remember the last time we played a game together. We’ve been leading in a fleshly, carnal way. It’s only natural that our student’s attitudes be fleshly and carnal. Attitude, after all, reflects leadership.

“Spiritual leadership requires Spirit-filled people. Other qualities are important; to be Spirit-filled is indispensable.” When the other qualities become our only focus and the Spirit is pushed to the back burner in our ministry, the only logical outcome is loss of vision, loss of momentum, loss of souls. Without the Spirit’s action in our ministries, we cannot excite, we cannot grow, we cannot do anything of eternal value. The Spirit is absolutely essential to Spiritual leadership.

Categories Everyday Life, Faith, Reflections

A Bit of a Nag

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I have my doubts about the oft heard statement that “the Holy Spirit is a gentleman.” Instead, I rather think He’s a nag. LESTER retreat was marvelous–but a little bit redundant. It seems that God is into driving things home.

On March 6, I wrote on this website that God had been speaking to me about not being consumed with serving others. Instead, I should be focused on sitting at Christ’s feet. This Saturday, Mike Jordahl shared from Isaiah 52:13, which begins, “My servant…” Mike asked the question, Whose servant? God’s servant, of course. While being a servant of God will inevitably lead to serving men, the role of the Christian is not to please men. It is to serve God and walk in relationship with Him.

On August 27, I wrote of my desire for greatness and of what I want to accomplish with my story. Sunday morning Darin Durand spoke about greatness and the difference between earthly and spiritual greatness. In small groups, we discussed how difficult it is to die to selfish desires in the pursuit of greatness–the same thing I have struggled with over the past few months.

Then on Sunday night, Lauren Libby gave a teaching on leadership. One of his points stuck out to me particularly because it has been on my heart for a while now. He said, “The leader transforms strategy into action by empowering others.” This only confirms what God has been speaking to me about empowering others to do much of the work that I am currently doing within the church–allowing them to serve in an increased way and giving me more time to focus on what God is calling me to directly.

While the teaching was a highlight of the trip, it was by no means the only one. I enjoyed taking a dip in the “Punch bowls” in my pajamas. The water was colder than cold, but I didn’t feel cold until I’d been out of the water for fifteen minutes–then I was freezing. The hike up and back was beautiful. All around I was impressed by the greatness and majesty of God.

Another big highlight of the trip was developing relationships. In a way, I felt like I was talking with someone almost constantly ;-) From the gals in my room to the folks I had dinner with to those that I ended up spending time with during odd hours of the day, I was constantly surrounded by opportunities to fellowship and to grow in relationship. Of course, when talking about relationship building, you can’t discount the ride up and back. I can see that despite my rocky start, the maxim proves true: “God doesn’t make typos when He writes the story of our lives–even when we, like children, are sitting on His lap pounding on the keyboard.” Even though I didn’t pay attention to exactly which parking garage I was supposed to be at and wandered around–God worked all things together for good. It was this “mistake” that allowed me to get to know several people that quite possibly I would not otherwise have gotten to know. God is faithful to arrange all things according to His purposes.

Categories Books, Reflections

The Stories of our Lives

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I’ve loved stories for as long as I can remember. I’ve read thousands upon thousands of books in my life, which is yet young. I read the newspapers, devouring the “public interest” pieces. I watch movies and plays. I enjoy opera, poetry, lyric dance. I love stories.

Some of the stories reduce me to tears; some cause me to stand in anger. Some stories confuse me; while I identify with others. Some stories change my thinking; some reinforce what I already believe. Some stories raise questions in my mind; others lead to answers.

But there are some stories that do something else altogether. I often finish a biography claiming “Abigail Adams (or whoever else I was reading about) is my hero.” But after reading Corrie ten Boom’s autobiography The Hiding Place, I went away proclaiming that Corrie ten Boom’s God is my hero. Many books make me rise up inside–Francine River’s And the Shofar Blew spurred me to do all I could to promote the church as God has called it to be. Many accounts of true life events make me exclaim “That’s too bad” or “How exciting!” Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire made me fall on my knees in prayer. Many musical pieces inspire me with their beauty, but Listz’s Christus, telling the story of Christ’s birth, death, and resurrection, made me share its refrain with everyone I met–“Christ conquers, Christ rules, Christ commands all eternity.”

II Corinthians 3:3 says, “You are our epistle written in our hearts, known and read by all men.” As Christians, we have a story that every person who comes into contact with us reads. What do our stories say? What action do they evoke? To whom do they point?

I hunger to be remembered, to have done something worthwhile. I hunger that my name be remembered after I die, that somehow I have made some indelible impression on the earth. I hunger that somehow the earth will be a different place, a better place because I lived here.

As I look at the stories that impacted my life, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt what I want my story to accomplish. I want people who hear my story, who read my writings, who meet me and talk to me–to see Christ. I want people to hear my story and proclaim, “Rebekah’s God is my hero.” I want people to read my poetry and share the refrain of God’s greatness with everyone they meet. I want people to hear my message and be driven to their knees in Christ’s honour. I want those who weep at my grave to glory in God’s greatness.

Categories Faith, Reflections

The Church–past, present, and future

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As I look at the variety of books on church growth, church organizational patterns, church trends, and church management, I see an unsettling trend. Either the book is focused on maintaining the past–reliving the traditions and experiences of the past–or it is focused on continuing what is currently working–maintaining forever today’s models–or it is focused on pressing past everything that we have known to find an entirely new way of thinking. You may ask, “Well, doesn’t that cover all the bases? One of them should be right.” But my fear is that in the press of conversation about the church, we lose balance.

A church that is focused on the past cannot be a living church. Instead, it is a re-living church.

Just as a person with Alzheimer’s can waste away while reliving the experiences of the past, a church that focuses on reliving the past will die. This church may be living off of fat stores for the present, but it does nothing to ensure for itself a future. This church will die.

The church that is focused on the present is a selfish church. It is the narcissist church that insists upon forever maintaining itself as the star–not realizing that as the context changes, it must change to be effective. This church is forever keeping up with itself–never looking forward with dreams, never looking backward to correct mistakes. It is rudderless–directionless. This church will fail.

The church that is focused on the future is a pointless church. In its quest to be church of the future, its only definition is in rejecting past and present. This church dreams but does not accomplish, plans
but never executes. How can it, when the moment the future arrives it becomes nothing more than the present, and swiftly the past? This church is anchorless–having nothing to keep it from being blown about by every wind and wave.

What then should the church look like? How does a church avoid these pitfalls?

One of the most common injunctions throughout the Scriptures is to remember. Exodus 13:3 gives a stirring command to remember: “Remember this day in which you went out of Egypt, out of the house of bondage; for by strength of hand the Lord brought you out of this place.” In Exodus 20, the people were told to “remember
the Sabbath.” Throughout Deuteronomy, the injunction to remember brought with it both a warning and an encouragement. Remember God’s judgment and fear. Remember God’s mercy and obey. Remember what God has spoken. Remember God’s greatness. In the New Testament, we are told to remember Christ’s words. We are given the rite of Communion “in remembrance” of Christ. The church can not and must not disobey what is so obviously a part of the Christian life: Remembering the Past.

Paul’s life and letters clearly demonstrate the importance of the church being within the present. Paul’s epistles were not so much letters of remembrance or letters of vision casting than letters grounded in the current events of the church. Paul was busy dealing with the contemporary needs of the church–II Corinthians 8 refers to the physical needs of the church in Jerusalem and how the Corinthian church was going about meeting them. Galatians
addresses the immediate theological needs of the church of Galatia. The words of Christ also portray this present tense activity of the church. The teaching of Christ is not merely stories of the past nor prophecy of the future. Christ commanded concerning the present. “Love your neighbor as yourself.” “When you bring your gift to the altar…” “Strive to enter through the narrow gate.” These are not injunctions of the past, nor dreams for the future. This is a present day command. The church can not and must not stray from what is so obviously a part of the Christian life: Being relevant in the Present.

One cannot read the Bible without gaining an overwhelming sense of the future. The prophecies of Daniel and Revelation put shivers down spines, but even without getting into “end time theology”, the future is an integral part of Scripture. Jesus’ prayer in John 17 is directed not only at the current believers, but at those who would come. The Great Commission, while being a present command, conveys a heady promise of the future. “And Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Paul preached of the greatness of the inheritance that will be revealed. Romans 8:23-25 says, “Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body. For we were saved in this hope, but hope that is seen is not hope; for why does one still hope for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for
it with perseverance.” The church can not and must not fail to possess what is so obviously a part of the Christian life: Hope for the Future.

As a church, we must press past a time frame or a verb tense. We must refrain from arguing opinion. We must lay aside the idea that progress comes by throwing out the old, or that continuing the old is progress. We must recognize the value of God’s progression of history–how the past shapes our present, which in turn shapes the future. We must recognize our role as facilitators of the narrative of God’s story. We are not the author of the story, we are merely participants in a chapter of the story. We cannot break out of the narrative to begin a new story. No, we must take the chapter we
have been given and continue the story on.

Categories Faith, Reflections

Made great by each other

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I’m a woman. I love stories of strong women, of brave women, of women who made a difference, of women who achieved some level of fame. Occasionally, the question enters my head–Would any of
these women have reached the status they have if it weren’t for their husbands? Maybe they just married into fame. Their marriage made the difference.

Now, before you get scared that my espoused feminism has gone down the drain, let me describe a few truths that I have come to when thinking about this question.

After God made Eve from Adam’s rib in the Garden of Eden, Adam woke up. Just as he had named every other living creature, he now named Eve–“She shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.” (Genesis 2:23) There is no doubt in my mind about the implications of this Scripture. No woman can claim that she does not need man. No, in the beginning, we were named by a man–called
Woman, because we came from man. We cannot forget our origins. In the same way, man can never claim that he does not need woman. He must remember our origins. “And the Lord God said, ‘It is not good that man should be alone; I will make him a helper comparable to him.'” (Genesis 2:18) God saw that man was incomplete, lacking a helper. And so God made a helper–not the same as him but comparable to him, his partner but not his head.

A woman I have admired for years, studying her life and yearning for her influence, is the Proverbs 31 woman. But listen to what the Bible says about her and her husband. “The heart of her husband safely trusts her; so he will have no lack of gain. She does him good and not evil all the days of her life.” (Proverbs 31:11-12) And again: “Her husband is known in the gates, when he sits among the elders of the land.” (Proverbs 31:23) This woman is not great because of her husband–not to say that her husband isn’t great. Instead, these verses seem to say that her husband is great, at least in part, because she is trustworthy and she does good. “They” say that behind every good man is a great woman–and I have little doubt. The Proverbs 31 woman by her actions and words has made her husband great and respected. I find it almost ironic to read the last few verses: “Her children rise up and call her blessed; Her husband also and he praises her: ‘Many daughters have done
well, but you excel them all.’ Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her
in the gates.” (Proverbs 31:28-31) This woman who by her deeds has paved the way for her husband to have a place in the city gates, now is praised in the city gates by her husband. “Let her own
works praise her in the gates.

Great men and great women, they go together hand in hand. Which one creates the other I cannot say. But I must say that the greatness of a great woman brings her husband honor, and the greatness of a great man gives his wife praise. That’s the way God made it.

Categories Faith, Reflections

The beauty of the church

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I know, I know. I didn’t actually post this on the 20th. But I wrote it then with the intention of posting it. That’s got to count for something.

Walking through campus today, I saw two young boys following their dad, looking about with amazement at the wonders of a college campus. I was struck by the amazing way God put this world together.

A college campus is a fun place to be. Students walking about, milling, talking. Parties and concerts and benefit bashes. Gatherings, projects, classes. But the college campus isn’t complete. It’s too homogeneous to be so.

The majority of college students are single, childless people in their late teens or early twenties. There is very little variation. It’s understandable that a college campus should be so; but if
college is the extent of your relationships and involvement, you are missing out.

I think the same thing when I visit nursing homes. There’s something missing here. It’s too homogeneous. Yes, there are younger workers in addition to the older residents, but just like professors and students on a university campus, they are separated. They belong to different classes, different positions, and very few meaningful relationships are formed across these barriers.

This is one of the reasons that I so love the church. Church is a family affair. It encompasses a wide variety of ages and roles. Everyone has their “position” but this does not limit their relationships.
Elders hang out with those who clean the church building, teachers with pray-ers. Young children relate to retired members and young adults to 40 somethings.

Go onto any college campus and observe the modes of teaching and learning–lectures, projects, papers, reading, discussion. But the teaching method most universities lack is relationship. Life on life.
Discipleship. This is a great strength of the church. Walk into any nursing home and you will see a variety of ways the nurses and service staff help their patients. But the serving method many nursing homes lack is relationship. Life on life. Iron sharpens iron. Listening and encouraging. Serving out of relationship. This is a great strength of the church.

You see, friendships within the college campus are good. There’s nothing wrong with having relationships with people who are the same as you–going through the same life experiences. But if your only relationships are with a group of people homogeneous with yourself, you miss something powerful.

If you aren’t already connected with a local church, I encourage you to do so. And don’t just get involved with their college groups–get to know the families: children and parents; introduce yourself to the young couples; become friends with those who are “older and wiser.” Take the opportunity to experience the power of the church through relationship.