It's Thursday evening and I'm relaxing at home as it is finally the beginning of spring break. All I've felt today is an incredible sense of peace, a peace that surpasses all understanding. Sometimes I wonder what that actually means, "surpassing all understanding." The ironic thing is when we try to explain it; after all, it does surpass all understanding. However, in my current situation I find it to surpass understanding because it did not come from me. It came through prayer, reflection, and receiving the wisdom of others. You're probably wondering what I'm talking about and for that reason I'll back up a bit.
Last weekend was crazy as I didn't have much time for homework; I had a variety of commitments that made the weekend busy. On Saturday morning I went to a men's breakfast at my church and then spent that evening and night volunteering for a non-profit at a concert. Sunday was busy with church in the morning and a Men's Chorale concert that had me gone for most of the day. And then the week began.
I'm currently taking my writing intensive requirement, which requires a research paper that we work on in pieces throughout the semester. All my research was due by midnight on Tuesday so I spent some of Monday evening (the only time I had to work on it that day) and all of Tuesday (literally... all of it) working on it. I submitted the assignment at 11:57 p.m. and breathed a sigh of relief as I felt like I had just run a mental marathon.
Yesterday was crazy for numerous reasons. Another Men's Chorale performance required a good portion of the day, followed by class, followed by the first grief support event held on campus that I had the privilege of being on the panel for. And then there was the fact that it was "Decision Day." For those of you that do not know what that is, essentially it is a day when all decisions are announced regarding most of the leadership positions on campus. It's a great and awful day all at the same time; great because many rejoice over getting positions that they applied and interviewed for, but difficult because many others are let down that they did not get the position they applied for. I will admit that not getting a position you applied for can be difficult; I myself have been denied numerous positions on campus, most of which would have taken place this year. The first significant instance happened my sophomore year and I must admit that at first I didn't take it very well. If you aren't careful it's easy to let a position define your worth or status and not getting that position left me feeling like I was inadequate in some way. Of course that is not true and I have come far since then.
This year I applied and interviewed to be a Resident Advisor, which I did not get. What made it difficult was not so much not getting the position (though I was disappointed I didn't get it) but rather the implications of what it meant for the future: all of a sudden I had myriad things to figure out, including my living situation, classes, and other school involvement for next year. Being future minded can be beneficial in many ways, but when you are someone like me who can let that affect being present and in the moment it tends not to be a good thing.
I called a couple of my closest family members and talked with my roommates to get their input on things. I only did this because there were a couple of decisions I had to make regarding one position I was given the option to be an alternate for and another I was offered but had to decide whether or not to accept it, both by Friday. By the end of last night I more or less came to a conclusion of what decisions I needed to make and decided that sleeping on it would be best, especially considering by the time those conversations had happened it was almost midnight and I had barely started on my homework.
I woke up this morning having gotten about six hours of sleep, six hours being my nightly average for the past week or so. Of course this general lack of sleep was concerning as it makes you more prone to sickness, among other things. It also concerned me because I am going to Mexico on Saturday for a week-long mission trip and I would not want to go into the trip sick and/or tired.
I woke up today feeling an incredible sense of peace. Despite the grogginess and hours I had to spend on homework this morning it permeated my thoughts and my entire sense of being. By the time my day ended, which was around 5 p.m., I reflected on my day and thought, "It's been a really good day." Reflecting on what happened today it did not make much sense; I was sleep-deprived, had classes all day, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. When I realized this it made that peace all the more significant as I knew it had not come from me. All I could think of was how it must have been that peace from God that surpasses all understanding, the peace we are promised if we are not anxious about anything and give all our requests to God through prayer and thanksgiving. God followed through on that promise and it has given me much strength and joy.
As I go to Mexico this weekend I trust that God has prepared me for such a time as this. I trust that God has a plan, God is in control, and it is my hope that I will stay open to God's leading and the things God wants to do while 300 others and I are down there. In the least I can say that I am beyond excited for the trip; I anticipate that being detached for a while from technology, homework, life on this side of the border, and anything else familiar will be refreshing and exciting. Other than that I do not have any expectations, but even then I probably should not have the expectation that I will come back refreshed. For all I know the week may be challenging and draining. Regardless of how things go, what I am sure of is that the peace of God is going before us, with us, and after us. It is that peace that I pray we all come to know, not just on a mission trip or during times of trial but each and every day of our lives as we strive to live for a purpose that goes far beyond ourselves.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Sunday, February 2, 2014
The Aches of a Heart.
Today is Sunday, February 2nd, 2014.
Five years ago today was Monday, February 2nd, 2009. The day after the Steelers beat the Cardinals in the Super Bowl. That was the day my father died.
It was a day like any other. I went to school, with plenty going on. Scarlet & Gold, the choir I was in, was busy practicing for the val-o-gram fundraiser that we were putting on in a couple of weeks. In physics we were building roller coasters, which was a pretty sweet alternative to homework. Everything was normal.
When I got home from school I took a nap, did some homework, and before I knew it it was dinnertime. Mom had made sloppy joe's for dinner. We hadn't heard from Dad for a while, but I figured he had been out all day working. It wasn't usual for him to be gone until late running errands or doing things for work. Mom mentioned how she hadn't heard from him since lunch, which she seemed slightly concerned about.
A little later Grandpa Gary showed up. Said he also hadn't heard from Dad in a while. Don't worry about it, I told myself. He'll come home. He always does.
Eight o'clock rolls around and I'm on the phone with a close friend from school. We were talking about all the amazing things that God was doing on campus. I was walking around the house as I was talking to her, and I happened to come to the front windows that overlooked the street. And that's when I saw it.
A cop car, with two policemen, was parked across the street. They were getting out of the car. And that's when my heart sank: the worst had happened. There was no doubt about it. I rushed to the front door, hung up on my friend, and answered the door.
"Is your mom here?" the policeman asked. Before I could even turn around to call for her, my mom came flying down the steps. She was in her bedroom, talking on the phone, but she must've been looking out her window as well. She went out onto the front porch to talk with the officers and I recall going to the kitchen. Franticly pacing because I was getting really worried. A few seconds later I heard it.
It was the wail of a woman who had just lost her husband. The wail of a woman whose world came crashing down. The wail of a woman who was incredibly strong. The wail of a woman whose strength was taken from under her. My strength went too, and my world also came crashing down.
Tears. Lots of tears. I called anyone I could think of, anyone who would care. Most people didn't answer their phones. Go figure, I thought. One of my best friends from childhood did answer, but he couldn't understand me through the emotional wreck that I was and told me to call him back later.
My first prayer: "God, I love You. God, I love You. God, I LOVE You." All I could pray, not just on that night, but for weeks. I don't take any credit for this. I can't take any credit for it. I can't take any credit for it because on my own I'm not great. I'm not some amazing superhuman who can handle anything. I'm not some righteous, better-than-anyone human being. I am just like the rest of you. I have fears, doubts, desires, needs, and everything else typical to humanity. All of this to say I can only attribute those initial prayers to the amazing grace of an incredible God.
Everything from that point on was a blur. Dana, my brother's best friend's mom, came over. Told my brother and I to stay home. All I wanted was to leave. I had to see him. I had to see the dead body of my father to believe that he was actually gone. I was sure I was being lied to. I was sure that it was all a joke. This isn't my life, I thought. This can't be my life.
Eventually my Grandpa Gary and Aunt Christine were over. All I remember is embracing them, along with my brother, and weeping. All of us. Exclamations of grief, questions asking where my dad was, hugs trying to make sense of it all. Hugs that seemed to be our only glimpse of hope.
More family came in that night. Grandma Kathy, Papa Steve, aunts, uncles, more grandparents... more and more people came. At one point our house had 30 people sleeping in it. Floors, beds, couches, and anything else one could sleep on were all taken. I barely slept that first night. Maybe five hours.
That first morning I didn't want to eat. In fact, I wanted to starve myself. I already felt so close to the edge of my humanity and life itself; what was a little more pain? Aunt Misty made me eat. I was reluctant, but did so anyways. Figured it was probably good for me. I'm thankful for people like Aunt Misty to have helped me in the little things at that time, such as eating. She blessed me in more ways than she will ever know.
My friend Lydia called me that morning. Stepped out of class after reading the newspaper. It wouldn't have been hard for her to miss. "Kennewick man dies in fatal crash," read the front-page headlines. Seeing the name "Gary S. Conachan, Jr." didn't help either for I also carry my father's name. Answering her call assured her that it was in fact my father who had passed away and not me. Not that it made it any easier.
Grandpa Ron and one of my uncles (I think?--really, it's all a blur) took me to the store with them. We picked up a few newspapers. I read the words on the page, but I wasn't reading about my own life. I was reading about the life of another 15-year-old boy named Gary. A boy who had lost his father in a terrible car accident. I felt terrible for him. What a loss that must've been. Oh, wait. That's me. Numb. I felt numb.
I didn't go to school for two weeks. I missed classes, val-o-grams, projects, homework assignments--I missed it all. But I didn't care. Nothing else mattered at that point. Friends visited and people brought food--SO MUCH FOOD--and consolations. Pastors came with the same. I've never felt more loved or supported than I did in those two weeks. It was truly amazing.
Life had to go on. If we didn't let it, we'd debilitate ourselves and die of hopelessness. So we got up. We chose to fight, to push on. With whatever fragment of strength and will we had left, we moved forward. It felt awkward. It didn't feel right. But what choice did we have? Time pushed us along; we didn't have any say in the matter.
Losing my dad wrecked me. I lost one of my best friends, the one man who understood me more than anyone. I lost a man who loved me unconditionally, no matter what I did or said. We laughed and joked around, sometimes making him seem like the "third child." We did so much together growing up. He truly was a man with a big heart. He was extremely loving, had a gentle spirit about him, and had one of the greatest smiles--if only he'd smiled with his teeth more. Anyone that knew him knows he hated to do so; but he smiled a lot anyways. The funny, quirky things about my dad that I miss deeply.
Over the next five years I went through a lot. I overcame condemnation, a self-hatred rooted so deeply that it debilitated me. Not only did I not match up to others but I felt like I was far beyond saving. I felt like no one cared. My self-esteem was incredibly low. I was a mess.
I doubted my identity. I doubted my manhood, for if my father was the only sense of manhood I'd had to hold onto, what else did I have? Thus began the search for the thing that was within me all along. The search driven by a perceived lack, telling me that I wasn't enough and that I would only be "enough" via things external to me. Thus began a long and painful struggle. Somehow God was present through it all. Somehow God held onto me. I didn't understand it, but God knew what God was doing. God was in control and that was all that mattered; it's all that's ever mattered.
I stand here today, five years after my dad passed away and I'm a little more pieced together. I'm still broken. I've still got many struggles and things I deal with on a daily basis. But things are getting better. Little by little, things are improving. It doesn't mean that I have to fake it--though it's tempting and I have succumbed to it often--or be perfect. I never will be perfect. But I do have the power to be real. I can be authentic to everyone around me. And so I strive to be.
I also strive to find all my security and affirmation in Christ alone. My identity doesn't depend on the affirmation of others nor the amount of Facebook or Instagram likes I receive. (You laugh, but how many of us subconsciously think that?! I know I have!) Encouragement from others is edifying and taken seriously, but it's not the lifeblood from which I live. I say this more out of faith than anything. I want it to be true in my life. I so desperately want it to be true in my life.
God loves each and every one of you.
We don't understand tragedy and we probably never will.
The One we can always trust in is God.
God is always faithful and always in control.
Whatever happens in life, we can always move forward. We can always pick ourselves back up and choose to live for a purpose so much greater than our own. It's not a life of faking it or having to be strong all the time, no; in fact, it's a life that requires being real and honest, both in the good and the bad, admitting your strengths and your struggles, and depending on God and others. God comes first and is our everything. But we're also called to live with each other. We're to carry each other, sharpen each other, and support each other. If there's anything you get from this post I hope you know that there is hope. Trust and believe that there is hope. You are loved and valued more than you may ever know. Live for God's purposes and God's Kingdom and everything else will fall into place. Again, it doesn't mean life will be easy or perfect--in fact, it most likely will be the opposite--but Christ is the Solid Rock on which we stand.
And it is on that Rock that I share my story.
To GOD be all glory.
Five years ago today was Monday, February 2nd, 2009. The day after the Steelers beat the Cardinals in the Super Bowl. That was the day my father died.
It was a day like any other. I went to school, with plenty going on. Scarlet & Gold, the choir I was in, was busy practicing for the val-o-gram fundraiser that we were putting on in a couple of weeks. In physics we were building roller coasters, which was a pretty sweet alternative to homework. Everything was normal.
When I got home from school I took a nap, did some homework, and before I knew it it was dinnertime. Mom had made sloppy joe's for dinner. We hadn't heard from Dad for a while, but I figured he had been out all day working. It wasn't usual for him to be gone until late running errands or doing things for work. Mom mentioned how she hadn't heard from him since lunch, which she seemed slightly concerned about.
A little later Grandpa Gary showed up. Said he also hadn't heard from Dad in a while. Don't worry about it, I told myself. He'll come home. He always does.
Eight o'clock rolls around and I'm on the phone with a close friend from school. We were talking about all the amazing things that God was doing on campus. I was walking around the house as I was talking to her, and I happened to come to the front windows that overlooked the street. And that's when I saw it.
A cop car, with two policemen, was parked across the street. They were getting out of the car. And that's when my heart sank: the worst had happened. There was no doubt about it. I rushed to the front door, hung up on my friend, and answered the door.
"Is your mom here?" the policeman asked. Before I could even turn around to call for her, my mom came flying down the steps. She was in her bedroom, talking on the phone, but she must've been looking out her window as well. She went out onto the front porch to talk with the officers and I recall going to the kitchen. Franticly pacing because I was getting really worried. A few seconds later I heard it.
It was the wail of a woman who had just lost her husband. The wail of a woman whose world came crashing down. The wail of a woman who was incredibly strong. The wail of a woman whose strength was taken from under her. My strength went too, and my world also came crashing down.
Tears. Lots of tears. I called anyone I could think of, anyone who would care. Most people didn't answer their phones. Go figure, I thought. One of my best friends from childhood did answer, but he couldn't understand me through the emotional wreck that I was and told me to call him back later.
My first prayer: "God, I love You. God, I love You. God, I LOVE You." All I could pray, not just on that night, but for weeks. I don't take any credit for this. I can't take any credit for it. I can't take any credit for it because on my own I'm not great. I'm not some amazing superhuman who can handle anything. I'm not some righteous, better-than-anyone human being. I am just like the rest of you. I have fears, doubts, desires, needs, and everything else typical to humanity. All of this to say I can only attribute those initial prayers to the amazing grace of an incredible God.
Everything from that point on was a blur. Dana, my brother's best friend's mom, came over. Told my brother and I to stay home. All I wanted was to leave. I had to see him. I had to see the dead body of my father to believe that he was actually gone. I was sure I was being lied to. I was sure that it was all a joke. This isn't my life, I thought. This can't be my life.
Eventually my Grandpa Gary and Aunt Christine were over. All I remember is embracing them, along with my brother, and weeping. All of us. Exclamations of grief, questions asking where my dad was, hugs trying to make sense of it all. Hugs that seemed to be our only glimpse of hope.
More family came in that night. Grandma Kathy, Papa Steve, aunts, uncles, more grandparents... more and more people came. At one point our house had 30 people sleeping in it. Floors, beds, couches, and anything else one could sleep on were all taken. I barely slept that first night. Maybe five hours.
That first morning I didn't want to eat. In fact, I wanted to starve myself. I already felt so close to the edge of my humanity and life itself; what was a little more pain? Aunt Misty made me eat. I was reluctant, but did so anyways. Figured it was probably good for me. I'm thankful for people like Aunt Misty to have helped me in the little things at that time, such as eating. She blessed me in more ways than she will ever know.
My friend Lydia called me that morning. Stepped out of class after reading the newspaper. It wouldn't have been hard for her to miss. "Kennewick man dies in fatal crash," read the front-page headlines. Seeing the name "Gary S. Conachan, Jr." didn't help either for I also carry my father's name. Answering her call assured her that it was in fact my father who had passed away and not me. Not that it made it any easier.
Grandpa Ron and one of my uncles (I think?--really, it's all a blur) took me to the store with them. We picked up a few newspapers. I read the words on the page, but I wasn't reading about my own life. I was reading about the life of another 15-year-old boy named Gary. A boy who had lost his father in a terrible car accident. I felt terrible for him. What a loss that must've been. Oh, wait. That's me. Numb. I felt numb.
I didn't go to school for two weeks. I missed classes, val-o-grams, projects, homework assignments--I missed it all. But I didn't care. Nothing else mattered at that point. Friends visited and people brought food--SO MUCH FOOD--and consolations. Pastors came with the same. I've never felt more loved or supported than I did in those two weeks. It was truly amazing.
Life had to go on. If we didn't let it, we'd debilitate ourselves and die of hopelessness. So we got up. We chose to fight, to push on. With whatever fragment of strength and will we had left, we moved forward. It felt awkward. It didn't feel right. But what choice did we have? Time pushed us along; we didn't have any say in the matter.
Losing my dad wrecked me. I lost one of my best friends, the one man who understood me more than anyone. I lost a man who loved me unconditionally, no matter what I did or said. We laughed and joked around, sometimes making him seem like the "third child." We did so much together growing up. He truly was a man with a big heart. He was extremely loving, had a gentle spirit about him, and had one of the greatest smiles--if only he'd smiled with his teeth more. Anyone that knew him knows he hated to do so; but he smiled a lot anyways. The funny, quirky things about my dad that I miss deeply.
Over the next five years I went through a lot. I overcame condemnation, a self-hatred rooted so deeply that it debilitated me. Not only did I not match up to others but I felt like I was far beyond saving. I felt like no one cared. My self-esteem was incredibly low. I was a mess.
I doubted my identity. I doubted my manhood, for if my father was the only sense of manhood I'd had to hold onto, what else did I have? Thus began the search for the thing that was within me all along. The search driven by a perceived lack, telling me that I wasn't enough and that I would only be "enough" via things external to me. Thus began a long and painful struggle. Somehow God was present through it all. Somehow God held onto me. I didn't understand it, but God knew what God was doing. God was in control and that was all that mattered; it's all that's ever mattered.
I stand here today, five years after my dad passed away and I'm a little more pieced together. I'm still broken. I've still got many struggles and things I deal with on a daily basis. But things are getting better. Little by little, things are improving. It doesn't mean that I have to fake it--though it's tempting and I have succumbed to it often--or be perfect. I never will be perfect. But I do have the power to be real. I can be authentic to everyone around me. And so I strive to be.
I also strive to find all my security and affirmation in Christ alone. My identity doesn't depend on the affirmation of others nor the amount of Facebook or Instagram likes I receive. (You laugh, but how many of us subconsciously think that?! I know I have!) Encouragement from others is edifying and taken seriously, but it's not the lifeblood from which I live. I say this more out of faith than anything. I want it to be true in my life. I so desperately want it to be true in my life.
God loves each and every one of you.
We don't understand tragedy and we probably never will.
The One we can always trust in is God.
God is always faithful and always in control.
Whatever happens in life, we can always move forward. We can always pick ourselves back up and choose to live for a purpose so much greater than our own. It's not a life of faking it or having to be strong all the time, no; in fact, it's a life that requires being real and honest, both in the good and the bad, admitting your strengths and your struggles, and depending on God and others. God comes first and is our everything. But we're also called to live with each other. We're to carry each other, sharpen each other, and support each other. If there's anything you get from this post I hope you know that there is hope. Trust and believe that there is hope. You are loved and valued more than you may ever know. Live for God's purposes and God's Kingdom and everything else will fall into place. Again, it doesn't mean life will be easy or perfect--in fact, it most likely will be the opposite--but Christ is the Solid Rock on which we stand.
And it is on that Rock that I share my story.
To GOD be all glory.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Confessions of a Junior.
Ahhh, junior year. The year that was least liked in high school (from the few opinions I've heard) and definitely has a peculiar vibe to it. The hype of freshman and sophomore years (yes, sophomore year included--at APU at least, the hype definitely does not wear off by that point) is gone. College has a sense of normalcy to it, a sense that I personally am not too fond of and have struggled to be okay with. Yet it's not quite the end of your college career; you have a little less than half of your undergrad ahead of you, so you can't fully prepare to move on yet.
As it goes with any relationship, friendship, or anything else for that matter--as you get to know someone or spend time somewhere the honeymoon phase eventually comes to an end. You begin to see the flaws and are left with a choice to make: you can bail because you don't want to deal with the imperfections or you can choose to stick it out.
When life reaches a sense of normalcy it is then that we need to be the most careful. Complacency is quick to follow normalcy if one is not aware of it. Normalcy is one thing--in and of itself it is not necessarily bad. Complacency, on the other hand, is a bad thing. It can make you content with where you are at, cause you to quit pursuing growth, and make you lazy.
This morning I went to Foothill Church and the lead pastor preached a message concluding "The Church is..." series that they have been doing. The title of the message was, "...on a mission." Preaching out of Matthew 28:18-20 where Jesus calls the disciples to "go forth and make disciples of all nations", the point was that we always have purpose wherever we go. My previous blog post touched on this topic, the idea that God's purpose for you is the reason you're alive. Pastor Chris's sermon, however, focused more on the fact that our lives are our ministry. It's funny how we're willing to go across the world to some third-world country and do "crazy things for God" yet when we come home to the culture and country that is familiar to us we all of a sudden become complacent or are afraid to do "crazy things for God". We even find a way to justify it: "I can't do those things here, Americans aren't the same...", "Americans aren't as accepting...", "I'll be judged...", "I'll lose what means most to me...", etc.
Let me be the first to say that I am completely guilty of this. I myself struggle to live differently in the States yet I know that I can go abroad and (it is much easier to) live simply, lovingly, and selflessly. I am not saying that going abroad isn't a good thing--it is definitely a good thing and many are in fact called to the nations. What we need to quit doing, however, is separating the two. God is as present in America as He is anywhere else. God's Kingdom can be here, there, and anywhere! There should be a fluid continuity between the two; the life I live in Africa shouldn't be any different from the life I live in America.
As a fellow struggler amongst the majority I give you permission to keep me accountable of this. Don't be afraid to ask how things are going. I want that kind of accountability and I think we all need it.
Live counter-culturally.
Live Kingdom-minded.
Live your life as your ministry, 'cause it is.
As it goes with any relationship, friendship, or anything else for that matter--as you get to know someone or spend time somewhere the honeymoon phase eventually comes to an end. You begin to see the flaws and are left with a choice to make: you can bail because you don't want to deal with the imperfections or you can choose to stick it out.
When life reaches a sense of normalcy it is then that we need to be the most careful. Complacency is quick to follow normalcy if one is not aware of it. Normalcy is one thing--in and of itself it is not necessarily bad. Complacency, on the other hand, is a bad thing. It can make you content with where you are at, cause you to quit pursuing growth, and make you lazy.
This morning I went to Foothill Church and the lead pastor preached a message concluding "The Church is..." series that they have been doing. The title of the message was, "...on a mission." Preaching out of Matthew 28:18-20 where Jesus calls the disciples to "go forth and make disciples of all nations", the point was that we always have purpose wherever we go. My previous blog post touched on this topic, the idea that God's purpose for you is the reason you're alive. Pastor Chris's sermon, however, focused more on the fact that our lives are our ministry. It's funny how we're willing to go across the world to some third-world country and do "crazy things for God" yet when we come home to the culture and country that is familiar to us we all of a sudden become complacent or are afraid to do "crazy things for God". We even find a way to justify it: "I can't do those things here, Americans aren't the same...", "Americans aren't as accepting...", "I'll be judged...", "I'll lose what means most to me...", etc.
Let me be the first to say that I am completely guilty of this. I myself struggle to live differently in the States yet I know that I can go abroad and (it is much easier to) live simply, lovingly, and selflessly. I am not saying that going abroad isn't a good thing--it is definitely a good thing and many are in fact called to the nations. What we need to quit doing, however, is separating the two. God is as present in America as He is anywhere else. God's Kingdom can be here, there, and anywhere! There should be a fluid continuity between the two; the life I live in Africa shouldn't be any different from the life I live in America.
As a fellow struggler amongst the majority I give you permission to keep me accountable of this. Don't be afraid to ask how things are going. I want that kind of accountability and I think we all need it.
Live counter-culturally.
Live Kingdom-minded.
Live your life as your ministry, 'cause it is.
Friday, August 16, 2013
A Life Entwined with Purpose
God's purpose for you is the reason you're alive.
Such a simple statement, yet one that literally turned my day around. After spending the first few hours of my day gardening with my brother for our grandma and lounging around for a bit, my family and I went to the mall for a couple of hours. The last store we visited was one called Fireworks, a quirky little shop with all sorts of gadgets and goodies and other random things. Having barely stepped into the store I noticed a book titled, What You Need to Know Going into College. So, being a college student myself, I had to pick it up to see what it had to say (even though I'm already halfway through college--there's always room to learn, right?!). It offered a lot of advice from how to deal with your parents to how to live on your own to how to be financially responsible. To my surprise it included a small section entitled, "You Need to Know Not to Leave Your Faith at Home" and these were some of the tips I came across in the pages that followed:
944. You need to know to let go of your preconceptions about how things will work out. God has a plan too.
955. You need to know to volunteer a couple of hours a week. At a homeless shelter or a soup kitchen. It will take your mind off you.
957. You need to know to be open to a real encounter with God.
958. You need to know it takes spiritual strength to face adversity. Going to church on a regular basis helps.
966. You need to know to pursue more than a degree. Pursue a purpose.
It was the last one I stumbled upon that really made an impact on me. In a list of one thousand things you need to know before you go into college, it was number nine-hundred and sixty-seven:
You need to know God's purpose for you is the reason you're alive.
Tell me this doesn't give you an incredible amount of hope and purpose. Really think about it.
This summer hasn't been an easy one for me--in fact, it's been one of the craziest summers I've ever had. I got back from South Africa on May 14th then spent a month at home before my mom got married on June 15th. After that I spent roughly six weeks at my university running an English-intensive, American-experience program for 26 international students from Taiwan and Brazil. Once that was over I spent a week and a half traveling around Southern California visiting friends and family I don't get to see very often and now I find myself on a two-week vacation (if I can even call it that; hasn't this entire year been vacation?) in the Pacific Northwest visiting even more family before the craziness of my junior year begins.
Up until recently, whenever I was asked about how I felt about going into my junior year of college, all I could muster up for an answer was, "Ehhh... I guess I'm excited." Feeling like I had no purpose and was even going through a sort of mid-college crisis (if such a thing exists), I couldn't say I was excited for the year to come. And then God began to work on my heart. And then I stumbled upon an encouraging piece of wisdom that I apparently "needed to know" as a university student: that God's purpose for me is the reason I'm alive. That God's purpose for you is the reason you're alive. That God's purpose for us is the reason we're alive.
You see, it doesn't matter whether or not we feel like we have purpose or not--the truth of the matter is, we do. We do have purpose. Emotions are fleeting and always changing and cannot tell us otherwise. No thing or human being can tell us otherwise. We have purpose. It is God-given and bestowed upon us the moment we enter this world.
I challenge you to dwell on that for a while. See what it is God may be speaking to you about.
He's always speaking.
We're just not always quiet enough to hear what it is He's saying.
Such a simple statement, yet one that literally turned my day around. After spending the first few hours of my day gardening with my brother for our grandma and lounging around for a bit, my family and I went to the mall for a couple of hours. The last store we visited was one called Fireworks, a quirky little shop with all sorts of gadgets and goodies and other random things. Having barely stepped into the store I noticed a book titled, What You Need to Know Going into College. So, being a college student myself, I had to pick it up to see what it had to say (even though I'm already halfway through college--there's always room to learn, right?!). It offered a lot of advice from how to deal with your parents to how to live on your own to how to be financially responsible. To my surprise it included a small section entitled, "You Need to Know Not to Leave Your Faith at Home" and these were some of the tips I came across in the pages that followed:
944. You need to know to let go of your preconceptions about how things will work out. God has a plan too.
955. You need to know to volunteer a couple of hours a week. At a homeless shelter or a soup kitchen. It will take your mind off you.
957. You need to know to be open to a real encounter with God.
958. You need to know it takes spiritual strength to face adversity. Going to church on a regular basis helps.
966. You need to know to pursue more than a degree. Pursue a purpose.
It was the last one I stumbled upon that really made an impact on me. In a list of one thousand things you need to know before you go into college, it was number nine-hundred and sixty-seven:
You need to know God's purpose for you is the reason you're alive.
Tell me this doesn't give you an incredible amount of hope and purpose. Really think about it.
This summer hasn't been an easy one for me--in fact, it's been one of the craziest summers I've ever had. I got back from South Africa on May 14th then spent a month at home before my mom got married on June 15th. After that I spent roughly six weeks at my university running an English-intensive, American-experience program for 26 international students from Taiwan and Brazil. Once that was over I spent a week and a half traveling around Southern California visiting friends and family I don't get to see very often and now I find myself on a two-week vacation (if I can even call it that; hasn't this entire year been vacation?) in the Pacific Northwest visiting even more family before the craziness of my junior year begins.
Up until recently, whenever I was asked about how I felt about going into my junior year of college, all I could muster up for an answer was, "Ehhh... I guess I'm excited." Feeling like I had no purpose and was even going through a sort of mid-college crisis (if such a thing exists), I couldn't say I was excited for the year to come. And then God began to work on my heart. And then I stumbled upon an encouraging piece of wisdom that I apparently "needed to know" as a university student: that God's purpose for me is the reason I'm alive. That God's purpose for you is the reason you're alive. That God's purpose for us is the reason we're alive.
You see, it doesn't matter whether or not we feel like we have purpose or not--the truth of the matter is, we do. We do have purpose. Emotions are fleeting and always changing and cannot tell us otherwise. No thing or human being can tell us otherwise. We have purpose. It is God-given and bestowed upon us the moment we enter this world.
I challenge you to dwell on that for a while. See what it is God may be speaking to you about.
He's always speaking.
We're just not always quiet enough to hear what it is He's saying.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
The End of an Unexpected Journey
It is now Wednesday, May 22nd, and I've been home for just over a week now. It's crazy how fast the semester flew by, including my extra time in Cape Town!
On Friday, May 10th, we spent a good chunk of the day at Camps Bay, an internationally-recognized beach on the side of Table Mountain (a little ways out of the city). The weather was perfect and could not have been any better! That evening Jess and I went on a sunset sailboat cruise, which was so beautiful! Definitely the perfect ending to our stay in Cape Town. That night we had our last "final dinner" at a restaurant called Mama Africa; to be honest, I think the name explains it all! Think African music, African decorations, and delicious, quality African food. Overall... great experience.
Jessica flew home on Saturday and that's when Luke and I caught a taxi and a train to Fish Hoek, our former home when the program was still going on. My former home stay family picked us up from the train station and we stayed with them for our last two days in South Africa. As it was for our home stays during the program, we watched TV, visited other home stay families, and played soccer with my family's 11-year-old son, Xavier. It was a nice, relaxing ending to an incredible four months spent in South Africa.
We flew out of Cape Town on Monday, May 13th, getting home about 24 hours later (according to the clock; we gained nine hours coming back). I totaled 33 hours of travel and 25 hours of flying; I was so over flying by the time I got home! Coming home was great though as I had family and friends awaiting my arrival at the airport. That night we went out to dinner at a Mexican restaurant, which was just what I'd been craving all semester! Mexican food is non-existent in Africa and was dearly missed by myself and everyone else on my team.
Being home has been great so far; in fact, it's been a lot better than I expected. I expected it to be pretty rough as we'd had a reorientation the last day of the program and several emails from the study abroad office, all telling us of the hardships we may go through once we got home. Since being home I've been hanging out, spending a lot of time with friends and family--just what I've needed and missed so much!
There's much more to the experience and the things we went through, but for that, I'm afraid we'll have to talk in person. Hopefully these updates have been thorough enough, giving you a good glimpse of South Africa! Ideally, it's given you the desire to go and visit South Africa, or even Africa itself!--a continent rich in culture, languages, people, and much, much more! I know I will take my experiences with me for the rest of my life and I can only hope that others will experience the same!
The remaining week or so in Cape Town included miscellaneous adventures, including visiting a Muslim shrine, visiting Muizenburg (a small surf town that was deserted when we visited due to poor weather), another "final" dinner (most of our group left on the 9th), standing outside of Cape Town Stadium and listening to the Justin Bieber concert (my friend Jessica's idea!), and even more hanging out and relaxing.
The last two days in Cape Town were probably my favorite. On the 9th, Luke, Jessica, and I (the three of us remaining) went to a couple markets to finish up our souvenir shopping. We then spent the rest of the day at the waterfront, getting dinner and seeing "Iron Man 3", which we really enjoyed!
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| On a sunset sailboat cruise in Table Bay |
On Friday, May 10th, we spent a good chunk of the day at Camps Bay, an internationally-recognized beach on the side of Table Mountain (a little ways out of the city). The weather was perfect and could not have been any better! That evening Jess and I went on a sunset sailboat cruise, which was so beautiful! Definitely the perfect ending to our stay in Cape Town. That night we had our last "final dinner" at a restaurant called Mama Africa; to be honest, I think the name explains it all! Think African music, African decorations, and delicious, quality African food. Overall... great experience.
 |
| Camps Bay, with Lion's Head in the background |
Jessica flew home on Saturday and that's when Luke and I caught a taxi and a train to Fish Hoek, our former home when the program was still going on. My former home stay family picked us up from the train station and we stayed with them for our last two days in South Africa. As it was for our home stays during the program, we watched TV, visited other home stay families, and played soccer with my family's 11-year-old son, Xavier. It was a nice, relaxing ending to an incredible four months spent in South Africa.
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| Four boarding passes = lots of flying! |
We flew out of Cape Town on Monday, May 13th, getting home about 24 hours later (according to the clock; we gained nine hours coming back). I totaled 33 hours of travel and 25 hours of flying; I was so over flying by the time I got home! Coming home was great though as I had family and friends awaiting my arrival at the airport. That night we went out to dinner at a Mexican restaurant, which was just what I'd been craving all semester! Mexican food is non-existent in Africa and was dearly missed by myself and everyone else on my team.
 |
| Mmmm... Mexican food |
Being home has been great so far; in fact, it's been a lot better than I expected. I expected it to be pretty rough as we'd had a reorientation the last day of the program and several emails from the study abroad office, all telling us of the hardships we may go through once we got home. Since being home I've been hanging out, spending a lot of time with friends and family--just what I've needed and missed so much!
 |
| My and my friend's families |
There's much more to the experience and the things we went through, but for that, I'm afraid we'll have to talk in person. Hopefully these updates have been thorough enough, giving you a good glimpse of South Africa! Ideally, it's given you the desire to go and visit South Africa, or even Africa itself!--a continent rich in culture, languages, people, and much, much more! I know I will take my experiences with me for the rest of my life and I can only hope that others will experience the same!
Thanks again for your prayers and support--it's you that have made this experience possible!
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
No Longer Studying Abroad... Vacationing Abroad!
The day finally came. The day when the South Africa Spring 2013 semester ended. The day when 33 of them went back to the States and the remaining 20 of us stayed behind in Africa. And so the adventure began.
A couple of taxis hauled all our luggage and most of our group (the rest walked, caught the train, then walked some more) to Long Street Backpackers, a hostel on Long Street in downtown Cape Town. To put it simply, Long Street is where everything's happening in Cape Town.
I'd try describing what the past week has been like but I always find myself having trouble doing so. In stead of my words, here are some pictures in an attempt to sum it up (if you click on the pictures you can view them full-screen!):
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| The hostel we're staying at |
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| The inside of our room in the hostel |
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| Watching the soccer game |
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| Professional soccer game, Kaizer Chiefs vs. Ajax Cape Town |
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| The Thursday Market |
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| Walking through the Company Gardens (Lion's Head in the background) |
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| The Castle of Good Hope |
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| My friends and I crossed paths with a "Legalize Weed" march |
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| Visiting Hillsong South Africa |
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| On our way to Simon's Town |
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| Wine-tasting in South Africa--definitely on the list of things to do! |
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| Bunny chow for lunch |
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| Visiting a Muslim shrine in the Bo Kaap |
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