This evening I was trying to explain to myself what it is about living life with Jesus. I was thinking a little about the various people I used to meet while working with Global Youth Network, who would call themselves "spiritually open" and who wanted to be involved with the organization because we didn't shy away from talking openly about faith. People always loved hearing one another's "Life Story" while living on a boat in the Amazon, or sitting around campfires in Thailand and I've never had any trouble sharing the parts of mine that include God speaking to me and me choosing to follow His guidance in my life. But tonight I was thinking about just how does a committed Jesus-follower really present what it's about and why it's so much more than just being "spiritually open".
I happened to pick up a book I bought well over a year ago that I'd only read a few chapters in and tried to figure out where I was and decided to read the next chapter, titled "Union". The book is Brennan Manning's The Furious Longing of God. Perfect chapter for my mullings and here is a quote he included from John McKenzie about Jesus:
We recognize that the person whom we have encountered speaks to our innermost being, supplies our needs, satisfies our desires. We recognize that this person gives life meaning. I do not say a new meaning simply, for we realize that before we encountered this person life had no real meaning. We recognize that this person has revealed to us not only himself, but our own true self as well. We recognize that we cannot be our own true self except by union with this person. In him, the obscure is illuminated, the uncertain yields to the certain, insecurity is replaced by a deep sense of security. In him we find we have achieved an understanding of many things which baffled us. We recognize in his person strength and power which we can sense passing from him to us. Most certainly, if most obscurely, we recognize that in this person we have encountered God, and that we shall not encounter God in any other way.
I like this.
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Saturday, 5 January 2013
Friday, 11 May 2012
Nudgings and choices in faith
This post is just a link to my contribution at the Firebowl communal blog. It is indeed kind of neat how, being asked to reflect on a topic (last month, "Joy") and reading others' reflections can serve and minister to my own heart. If you haven't already, take a read.
(Expect some awe-inspiring photos to be posted soon! Just got back from six days in Alberta!)
(Expect some awe-inspiring photos to be posted soon! Just got back from six days in Alberta!)
Saturday, 10 September 2011
Indian and Chinese food...
So trying the adapter plus the converter with the straightener resulted in the ceramic plates overheating and melting the plastic in which they are encased!! In about 2.3 seconds! I guess I won't be using the straightener again. After unplugging it, I still used it in that moment and saw my hair straight for the first time since I got it cut a few weeks ago (without any frizz and the annoying kinks it is prone to)! Sigh...too bad that will be the last time for awhile. My housemate offered me her curling iron, explaining that it can also be used for straightening. I really cannot see how that is possible: the barrel is round!! I'll keep you posted. (I know you are all very interested in this.)
So I went out on Thursday with my new friends and we, true to Beth-birthday form, went out for Indian food! I overheard my new British friends talking about finding an Indian restaurant, so I figured my birthday would be a good night for trying one out. So, upon the advice of Christèle (my housemate), we checked out Surya Restaurant. When we arrived, no one was there, so we were concerned. But yes, 7:45 is apparently too early. After 8:00, the people started rolling in. We chuckled while watching two separate couples, one old and one young, assume the same positions: both arms stretched across the tables, clutching one another's hands. And their tables were beside each other, so it looked particularly funny.
So how was the food, you ask? Different. It was good, but different from other Indian food. It had flavour, but not as strong or as spicy as I think the English girls and I were looking for. It had a sweeter taste, the curries were smaller and runnier too. But we had just the right amount of food and it was good. Everything is so much more expensive here, particularly noticeable with food, but we did a good job at keeping the cost of the meal down while having a big spread.
On the topic of food, I got to accompany Christele grocery shopping yesterday so that I could pick out some things. Really the only thing that has been a bit hard is breakfast, where they tend to eat cake-type food or very chocolate-y cereal. So I picked out some nice Muesli which I had this morning...so yummy with yogurt. At the supermarket, it was interesting to see how yogurt takes up an entire aisle. So do packages of cookies (biscuit-type cookies). It has been nice to get up every morning to a fresh pot of Italian coffee (Christèle's favourite and mine too), but I'm not in the habit of drinking this much coffee. I hope I don't have withdrawal symptoms at any point. I had some pretty bad headaches last weekend, either from that or from too much sun/dehydration.
Last Sunday was a Bradérie in the downtown. Many of the streets were open only to pedestrians and it was basically like a big street flea market/clearance sale. The items for sale were very random, some as though the vender had emptied the contents of his attic. Then the shops were having street sales and there were lots of food vendors. Unfortunately, I picked the first one serving kebabs (like shawarmas) without checking out the proper food area where there was a large variety of food, including traditional food from Breton (crepes, cider, etc), Spanish paella, mussels...and what I had wasn't very good and was overpriced. Boo, I should have known better!
That morning, I attended one of the few Protestant churches in Tours (I think there are only 5). Although there is one within walking distance, I decided to go to the largest one, downtown, Eglise Evangelique de Tours. There were about 200 people there, the majority of African decent I would say. It was great! I was well-greeted and welcomed; I loved how people prayed out during the worship-time and during communion and I felt quite "stirred in my spirit" (for lack of a better expression). I knew some of the songs and the ones I didn't were easy to learn. I was even able to follow the sermon! It was interesting to me that it was based on Psalm 84 and about the House of God, since I had wavered on whether or not I was going to intentionally attend church while here. Reading the text in English, I have always interpreted it to be about living in God's presence, about spending time with God personally (like that song, Better is One Day), but hearing the pastor speak about it from the French version, I was hearing how good it is to belong to a community of believers. Isn't it interesting how easy it can be to focus on making one's faith so personal and independent, when it cannot be that alone? Even just now, doing a search for the word "dwell" in the Bible, the idea of "God dwelling within" is a communal thing! And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit. Yup, together. It is always a beautiful thing to observe and to even be a part of such a community in places away from home; to observe how they worship, how they share the bread and wine (or grape juice...here, it was wine :) and how they demonstrate God's love. I'm looking forward to attending again tomorrow.
I completed a week of a 4-hour French class that was a type of orientation. Apparently I didn't do that well on my level-placement test, so in two weeks time, when the French-for-foreigners classes start, I'll be in the second level (there are four). The first week was a little too easy, so I hope those classes are ok. (Some people were surprised about some of the placements.) I don't mind if I'm in a lower level if I can do well, but I think I'll mind if it's too much review. For example, we were going over passé composé on Friday...something a lot of us started learning around grade 7 or 8! The main thing I'm concerned with, is that I am not allowed in a certain class I need because I'm not at a high enough level. I've convinced them to let me try, but that is pending if there is space. That class doesn't start until October and I figure I'll have improved by then anyway. I can already tell that I'm improving with my oral and comprehension! (Now to work on writing well under a time constraint and without a dictionary...like what was on the test I guess I bombed, AND on the exam from my summer course that I didn't do that well in.)
Figuring out courses is a bit mental! I finally have it together, but there is a conflict. I have to make up a certain amount of credits to satisfy my home university, but I am asking them if I can be a few short because of this conflict. AND because, I already have to take 11 courses! These 11 make up 16 hours of class per week. I think that's just a little bit more than at Laurier. These classes are Spanish and Portuguese and they start on Monday. We basically just show up and THEN register. Something like, we just introduce ourselves to the prof and ask to be in the class! We have until November to have our classes all figured out and decided. Pretty funny! I learned this week that university in France costs students on average 400 Euros a year!! I'm wondering where all of my tuition money is going!
Friday's last class included a bit of a scavenger hunt around the city where we learned some things and saw some neat things. I think I will pass on some of those interesting bits and photos in a future blog as this one is getting quite long! Thanks for reading!
Oh I forgot. Last weekend, I also went to a Chinese Buffet where there was karaoke in French (of course). It was huge and people were quite into it and singing along while they ate.
I also got a homemade chocolate cake, card and "Joyeuse Anniversaire" song (yes, different than "Bonne Fête" like in Québec) last night from my housemates (mom and daughter) for my birthday. C'était très gentil.
So I went out on Thursday with my new friends and we, true to Beth-birthday form, went out for Indian food! I overheard my new British friends talking about finding an Indian restaurant, so I figured my birthday would be a good night for trying one out. So, upon the advice of Christèle (my housemate), we checked out Surya Restaurant. When we arrived, no one was there, so we were concerned. But yes, 7:45 is apparently too early. After 8:00, the people started rolling in. We chuckled while watching two separate couples, one old and one young, assume the same positions: both arms stretched across the tables, clutching one another's hands. And their tables were beside each other, so it looked particularly funny.
So how was the food, you ask? Different. It was good, but different from other Indian food. It had flavour, but not as strong or as spicy as I think the English girls and I were looking for. It had a sweeter taste, the curries were smaller and runnier too. But we had just the right amount of food and it was good. Everything is so much more expensive here, particularly noticeable with food, but we did a good job at keeping the cost of the meal down while having a big spread.
On the topic of food, I got to accompany Christele grocery shopping yesterday so that I could pick out some things. Really the only thing that has been a bit hard is breakfast, where they tend to eat cake-type food or very chocolate-y cereal. So I picked out some nice Muesli which I had this morning...so yummy with yogurt. At the supermarket, it was interesting to see how yogurt takes up an entire aisle. So do packages of cookies (biscuit-type cookies). It has been nice to get up every morning to a fresh pot of Italian coffee (Christèle's favourite and mine too), but I'm not in the habit of drinking this much coffee. I hope I don't have withdrawal symptoms at any point. I had some pretty bad headaches last weekend, either from that or from too much sun/dehydration.
Last Sunday was a Bradérie in the downtown. Many of the streets were open only to pedestrians and it was basically like a big street flea market/clearance sale. The items for sale were very random, some as though the vender had emptied the contents of his attic. Then the shops were having street sales and there were lots of food vendors. Unfortunately, I picked the first one serving kebabs (like shawarmas) without checking out the proper food area where there was a large variety of food, including traditional food from Breton (crepes, cider, etc), Spanish paella, mussels...and what I had wasn't very good and was overpriced. Boo, I should have known better!
That morning, I attended one of the few Protestant churches in Tours (I think there are only 5). Although there is one within walking distance, I decided to go to the largest one, downtown, Eglise Evangelique de Tours. There were about 200 people there, the majority of African decent I would say. It was great! I was well-greeted and welcomed; I loved how people prayed out during the worship-time and during communion and I felt quite "stirred in my spirit" (for lack of a better expression). I knew some of the songs and the ones I didn't were easy to learn. I was even able to follow the sermon! It was interesting to me that it was based on Psalm 84 and about the House of God, since I had wavered on whether or not I was going to intentionally attend church while here. Reading the text in English, I have always interpreted it to be about living in God's presence, about spending time with God personally (like that song, Better is One Day), but hearing the pastor speak about it from the French version, I was hearing how good it is to belong to a community of believers. Isn't it interesting how easy it can be to focus on making one's faith so personal and independent, when it cannot be that alone? Even just now, doing a search for the word "dwell" in the Bible, the idea of "God dwelling within" is a communal thing! And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit. Yup, together. It is always a beautiful thing to observe and to even be a part of such a community in places away from home; to observe how they worship, how they share the bread and wine (or grape juice...here, it was wine :) and how they demonstrate God's love. I'm looking forward to attending again tomorrow.
I completed a week of a 4-hour French class that was a type of orientation. Apparently I didn't do that well on my level-placement test, so in two weeks time, when the French-for-foreigners classes start, I'll be in the second level (there are four). The first week was a little too easy, so I hope those classes are ok. (Some people were surprised about some of the placements.) I don't mind if I'm in a lower level if I can do well, but I think I'll mind if it's too much review. For example, we were going over passé composé on Friday...something a lot of us started learning around grade 7 or 8! The main thing I'm concerned with, is that I am not allowed in a certain class I need because I'm not at a high enough level. I've convinced them to let me try, but that is pending if there is space. That class doesn't start until October and I figure I'll have improved by then anyway. I can already tell that I'm improving with my oral and comprehension! (Now to work on writing well under a time constraint and without a dictionary...like what was on the test I guess I bombed, AND on the exam from my summer course that I didn't do that well in.)
Figuring out courses is a bit mental! I finally have it together, but there is a conflict. I have to make up a certain amount of credits to satisfy my home university, but I am asking them if I can be a few short because of this conflict. AND because, I already have to take 11 courses! These 11 make up 16 hours of class per week. I think that's just a little bit more than at Laurier. These classes are Spanish and Portuguese and they start on Monday. We basically just show up and THEN register. Something like, we just introduce ourselves to the prof and ask to be in the class! We have until November to have our classes all figured out and decided. Pretty funny! I learned this week that university in France costs students on average 400 Euros a year!! I'm wondering where all of my tuition money is going!
Friday's last class included a bit of a scavenger hunt around the city where we learned some things and saw some neat things. I think I will pass on some of those interesting bits and photos in a future blog as this one is getting quite long! Thanks for reading!
Oh I forgot. Last weekend, I also went to a Chinese Buffet where there was karaoke in French (of course). It was huge and people were quite into it and singing along while they ate.
I also got a homemade chocolate cake, card and "Joyeuse Anniversaire" song (yes, different than "Bonne Fête" like in Québec) last night from my housemates (mom and daughter) for my birthday. C'était très gentil.
Monday, 4 August 2008
Faith...
So I've realized that my faith is a lot smaller than I thought. As I anticipated, my 17 days in Brazil this July were perfect in that they put me back in a place where I could hear lots from God. And speak and nudge he did.
I remember that at the new year, I didn't feel like looking back on 2007 with much happiness and sadly, I've felt the same way about 2008. It has been hard. And sad. And depressing. And I am so tired. So when my mom ended up in the hospital just before I was scheduled to go to Manaus (for my fourth time), I must admit that I felt a blow at the possibility of not being able to leave--I was so looking forward to a time of refreshing away and in a beautiful, familiar place. Thankfully, I was still able to go and have indeed returned somewhat refreshed. Not necessarily any happier and still tired, but with some things to mull over and with the knowledge that God is out there and is speaking to me.
So yeah, I have realized that I have no trouble believing in God for provision--I have seen it so many remarkable times. But I have discovered that my faith is small in believing that God wants to heal and wants to see people happy with their heart's desires fulfilled. I am NOT seeing these. In my own life and in the lives of those closest to me. And I'm not particularly happy with God about it.
After a week at the YWAM base outside of Manaus, our group took off on the YWAM boat for a 6-hour trip up river to visit 3 river communities. Sleeping on the boat in a hammock is something I really enjoy and getting away from the mosquitoes at the base was a nice change. In the days, as the boat was docked, the group would walk into the communities and visit families. The dentist on the team ended up pulling out many teeth and every day, I ended up going off in a motor boat with just a few others, doing my best as the translator. We would visit families who lived on their own tucked away up various tributaries. I must admit, taking a group who wanted to pray and read the Bible to people is something I have become unaccustomed to, since working mostly with young Canadians who are not necessarily Christians. But this team had an average age of 50 and they were all from an evangelical church. The suggestion to pray and share God's word with the families came from our Brazilian YWAM friends anyway, and the village people all knew them personally. We were not unwelcome whatsoever. I needed to swallow my young Canadian tendencies and get into it.
So there was one family of 6 or 7 who all lived in this one room and in the house, there lay an old man on his hammock. They told us, he hadn't been up or eaten for 14 days. He looked horrible. Skin and bones. Our YWAM friends offered our prayers and asked the man if he believed God could heal him. (Actually, I don't know if she said, "could" or "would".) And Francisco spoke out, clear as day, "Eu creio." (I believe.) In that moment, I was overcome with emotion. I felt compelled to lay my hand on him. I felt compelled to pray for his healing, although I had no words to say. I just stood there, crying and touching him while listening to Portuguese prayer. Then we left.
Later that evening, Newton, our boat captain came to me to tell me that Francisco was up out of his hammock, feeling better and eating. This was the third person that our group prayed healing for and then later heard (or even saw) an improvement. The next day, we went to take him some soup, but he and his family were already en route to Manaus to seek treatment now that he was well enough to make the long journey. I found out that Francisco's sickness was cirrhosis of the liver from drinking too much. This struck me even more: that this man could believe so strongly in God's ability and desire to heal him, even though it was his own shortcomings that caused his sickness. Oh yes, how small my faith is.
Through conversations with DTS students, through morning team times and Bible reading, through Brazilian church songs, through a sermon given by a team member and through stories like this, God has been nudging me (or maybe hitting me over the head) to press in and actually pray. To not give up. To consider the hard things joyous and a chance to grow my faith.
I spoke with my dad last night for over two hours. It was really nice. I told him some stories and some of this as well as talked to him about light-hearted things like native issues in Canada. :P I was impressed as he talked about his own struggles with everything, yet I could hear his strong faith in it all. And even a strong belief in a physical miracle. It is so good for me to be at this end. Far too many times do I feel like I am supposed to be the strong one, but here now is my dad demonstrating to me a strong, strong faith. And a strong endurance (he told me a difficult story from his life that I'd never heard before).
(I gave up being strong a couple months ago, by the way.)
I remember that at the new year, I didn't feel like looking back on 2007 with much happiness and sadly, I've felt the same way about 2008. It has been hard. And sad. And depressing. And I am so tired. So when my mom ended up in the hospital just before I was scheduled to go to Manaus (for my fourth time), I must admit that I felt a blow at the possibility of not being able to leave--I was so looking forward to a time of refreshing away and in a beautiful, familiar place. Thankfully, I was still able to go and have indeed returned somewhat refreshed. Not necessarily any happier and still tired, but with some things to mull over and with the knowledge that God is out there and is speaking to me.
So yeah, I have realized that I have no trouble believing in God for provision--I have seen it so many remarkable times. But I have discovered that my faith is small in believing that God wants to heal and wants to see people happy with their heart's desires fulfilled. I am NOT seeing these. In my own life and in the lives of those closest to me. And I'm not particularly happy with God about it.
After a week at the YWAM base outside of Manaus, our group took off on the YWAM boat for a 6-hour trip up river to visit 3 river communities. Sleeping on the boat in a hammock is something I really enjoy and getting away from the mosquitoes at the base was a nice change. In the days, as the boat was docked, the group would walk into the communities and visit families. The dentist on the team ended up pulling out many teeth and every day, I ended up going off in a motor boat with just a few others, doing my best as the translator. We would visit families who lived on their own tucked away up various tributaries. I must admit, taking a group who wanted to pray and read the Bible to people is something I have become unaccustomed to, since working mostly with young Canadians who are not necessarily Christians. But this team had an average age of 50 and they were all from an evangelical church. The suggestion to pray and share God's word with the families came from our Brazilian YWAM friends anyway, and the village people all knew them personally. We were not unwelcome whatsoever. I needed to swallow my young Canadian tendencies and get into it.
So there was one family of 6 or 7 who all lived in this one room and in the house, there lay an old man on his hammock. They told us, he hadn't been up or eaten for 14 days. He looked horrible. Skin and bones. Our YWAM friends offered our prayers and asked the man if he believed God could heal him. (Actually, I don't know if she said, "could" or "would".) And Francisco spoke out, clear as day, "Eu creio." (I believe.) In that moment, I was overcome with emotion. I felt compelled to lay my hand on him. I felt compelled to pray for his healing, although I had no words to say. I just stood there, crying and touching him while listening to Portuguese prayer. Then we left.
Later that evening, Newton, our boat captain came to me to tell me that Francisco was up out of his hammock, feeling better and eating. This was the third person that our group prayed healing for and then later heard (or even saw) an improvement. The next day, we went to take him some soup, but he and his family were already en route to Manaus to seek treatment now that he was well enough to make the long journey. I found out that Francisco's sickness was cirrhosis of the liver from drinking too much. This struck me even more: that this man could believe so strongly in God's ability and desire to heal him, even though it was his own shortcomings that caused his sickness. Oh yes, how small my faith is.
Through conversations with DTS students, through morning team times and Bible reading, through Brazilian church songs, through a sermon given by a team member and through stories like this, God has been nudging me (or maybe hitting me over the head) to press in and actually pray. To not give up. To consider the hard things joyous and a chance to grow my faith.
I spoke with my dad last night for over two hours. It was really nice. I told him some stories and some of this as well as talked to him about light-hearted things like native issues in Canada. :P I was impressed as he talked about his own struggles with everything, yet I could hear his strong faith in it all. And even a strong belief in a physical miracle. It is so good for me to be at this end. Far too many times do I feel like I am supposed to be the strong one, but here now is my dad demonstrating to me a strong, strong faith. And a strong endurance (he told me a difficult story from his life that I'd never heard before).
(I gave up being strong a couple months ago, by the way.)
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