Divided

Suddenly, I'm once again suffering that all too common division between head and heart.

As it might be gathered from the last several posts, my heart is no longer in this school, because I've learned that a decent, local church body can do what any parachurch organisation can, possibly better. So my heart is set on being involved in the church, instead. Yet my head contends that I've put money into this school, and spiritually speaking, I've committed to stay for as long as God provides. To top that off, this school is my Waukesha residence. So, if I am finding that I like Waukesha (and I do,) this is the only way I can be here.

I wish I could write it all down and balance it out, but that is difficult. I don't agree with everyone at this school, and I have found a great level of unpeace with some students. On the other hand, there are still folk who encourage me despite disagreement, and who are respectful, and I can honestly say that the instructors love God. Despite the division over things like the doctrines of grace and the lordship of the believer, (both large issues for me,) I can still respect them. The homework load is also getting to me, not because it is too much but because I have handled it unwisely, and my tendancy, when something becomes a burden, is to begin to neglect it completely.

It doesn't help that about a dozen more things have entered my life, unforeseen, that are slowly releasing me from the bubble of NTBI that I was tightly bound in a few months ago. The irony is that this is, by all means, an answer to prayer -- to find the encouragement, and the fellowship, and the wisdom, and the accountability, and the active church that I wasn't getting within the school. (A lot, but not all of this blessing, is coming through the church. Some of it is also coming through books, friends, online ministries, and soforth.) Yet altogether, the more I leave the confines of the bubble, the more I am struggling to keep up with the obligatory things while I am inside. I am, in fact, failing to keep up. I am not beyond grace, but I am certainly at a point where I might quickly fall beyond my own ability to keep up with things. Except by the continued grace of God, I cannot balance it all.

I do not think there is a clear-cut answer to my mess, except to pray and persevere. I have (half) joked that the temptation is to crawl in a hole with my Bible and maybe Spurgeon or Edwards and just read. You see, part of the problem of going to a Bible college is that you study what they would have you study. For example, they would have me study dispensationalism next semester; if I want the balanced perspective that I want to learn this with, I will have to equally walk myself through a book on covenant theology. Not only is that a large reading load, it is a great burden. Most folk don't struggle here because they are fully submitted to believing everything that is put before them. I am not. Being presented with one passionate perspective, and presenting myself with the other, is certain to be stressful. (This is why I joke that I wish I could do my studying in a hole.)

It is hard wanting to read one bible book, but being assigned to another. Hard to read one (non-bible) book, but be assigned to another (three or four.) Hard wanting to write one thing, but being assigned a paper instead. Hard to do one thing with your time, but being scheduled for something else instead. Hard wanting to give your service one place, but being obligated to another instead.

God put me here, though. God knows the balance. In the end, it's really about what God wants for me, and not what I want for myself -- isn't it? It is neither my intention to forsake NTBI nor the opportunities God is putting me in. I am not, by nature, a busybody, so even the prospect of all of this is foreign to me. Don't ask me what God is preparing me for, but pray simply that He continue to conform my heart to His and make His immediate way known to me, that I might not bear so much distress, much longer.

... But if even that is His will? God's will be done.

Heather.

PS: October 31st is Reformation Day. Take that, Halloween! ;)

Playing in the Wrong Key

A little while ago, I sat down at a piano and attempted to read some music. Now, mind you, I know little to nothing about playing a piano. I can learn some things by ear, but even most of that is unharmonised pecking. Regardless, I know that the very bottom space of the staff is "F."

I attempted to key out a hymn. Some of the notes sounded fine, but then I hit a note that was incredibly discordant. It just didn't seem to fit with the rest of the music! The Hymnal couldn't have been bad. I knew the melody; yet something wasn't right. I tried a few more notes. They seemed right. ... And then I ran into a whole slew that were just ... off. I could not understand how I could be so sure of the notes I was hitting, and yet getting it so wrong.

Frusterated, I gave up.

Later on, I saw my friend Lily and asked her to play the hymn for me. She played, and it sounded fine. So, I asked her to play it again, and I watched more carefully. She played again: just fine. I eventually realised that she was hitting different notes completely.

Then I showed her what I was doing, and she saw my error right away. See, I had been making a false presumption from the very beginning, and it was throwing my entire key off. Because of past experience, I had assumed that the piano started with a "C" note, and so I was counting up from there thinking that after exactly 7 keys above it was another "C." The problem, then?

The piano started with "A." I wasn't simply hitting the wrong notes; I was reading the entire score wrong.


... I have the right sheet of music in front of me, and the right instrument, but I've been reading it wrong. Tonight, I was able to sit down with the pastor of the church I have been visiting for the past month, just to speak about these things -- particularily certain anxieties and differences that I have come into while in Waukesha. And through our discussion, I came to realise something with better clarity than I could ever quite recognise before.

I have gone to churches and never being too sure of certain doctrinal issues (until about the past year,) I have never truly been committed to one place. It was always my concern that membership were a mechanism for numbers and so I felt no need to commit. I saw church as a meeting place for fellowship, worship, and edification, but as such, I didn't see any need to commit to any particular one. It was just a "part" of the Christian experience. So, this entire time, I have been attempting to go at the Christian life in a solo manner, expecting to feed a little from this church here and that organisation there, this believer here and that book there. Now there is nothing wrong with gleaming experience and insight from other parts of the body, but to never have any true grounding ... can a tree with roots stretched so far be well nourished for long?

The trouble obviously follows because I am studying at a school that is, essentially, part of a parachurch missions organisation that I do not even expect to be working through. I have attempted to go about my walk in light of a certain intended "destination" [missions,] and as a result, I have been working toward every "in between" that I thought to be a neccessary predecessor of missions work. My focus for going to a Bible college, for instance, was to learn about the missions field and about scripture, since, at the time, I felt I really needed to learn these things; ironically, I had already, by simply being a disciple of Christ, learned a fair amount about scripture before even coming here. I had underestimated the power of the church and ultimately of God through His Church.

Because, the truth? A good, local church body can do all of these things. She can disciple, build, comfort, rebuke, equipt and send. Not to shift the blame, but what is it about this American culture that has given me the impression, for the past two years, that I could not simply come to God's through the discipleship of a local body? Why have I felt the need to map out my own plan? If God would have me to be a missionary, then can He not move even His smallest church to build me to become one?

To be quite honest, the entire prospect makes me nervous. It has been in the back of my mind for months -- in fact, I almost believe I "knew" it before I left Pittsburgh -- that I would need a true home church, a solid ground, so to speak, in which I ought to be immersed. But recognising this now, and the urgency of it, I am beginning to wonder what to do? At least for the immediate future, I will remain in Waukesha for as long as the Lord provides. However, I also know that this might not be for too long. For all I know, I may not so much as be able to return after December. If I cannot remain here, then what? Do I go back to Pittsburgh to live indefinitely until the Lord moves me? Go elsewhere, entirely? (I have entertained the thought of joining the church that hosts HeartCry, because it is so in line with my percieved calling and conviction.) ... Can I be sure that wherever I go will be sure enough place to begin to grow with a local body, there?

I express these questions as an insight to my human mind and not as an actual, trivial matter. Because the truth is, God is omniscient and in control of all things. This is the very way that faith plays out.

So I emphasise again: It isn't a mistake that I am where I am, this moment. God knew this, too. I do not take back the notion that God directed me to NTBI, at least for this semester -- but I am quickly seeing that God's mind in purpose this was far from where mine was. I came here thinking that this was the major catalyst to my calling. Yet I am seeing that I am still a much younger Christian than I realised.

All of this time, I have been seeking to follow God on some sort of solo-mission, step by step, instead of allowing the His church to truly adopt me and take me in and be the waters that carry me. I was attempting to play a C score in A. The tiny build-up of discordant annoyances have hinted to me that there was something of a larger matter out of whack. (In fact, a friend suggested this outright a few weeks ago and I did not want to listen.) But you can't correct the smaller issues until you correct the main issue, you know?

Thus, I will remain at this school for as long as God provides, but I am prepared to shift my focus. Since school is a time-consuming ordeal, I do not expect a shift of focus to be easy. Yet I find it biblical and I find it important, if I am going to go at this properly. I expect to learn a lot at this school, and truth be told, I love a lot of aspects to this school, including all of the instructors that I have. But it is a burden lifted to know that this is not quite my preparation, but that there is something different yet awaiting me.

Keep me in prayer. I have so much to learn.

Mixing Comfort and Discourse

I am finding quickly that I am on a proverbial rollercoaster.

I simply cannot write everything that I would like to, because people may actually read this, heh. It is not to say that these are things that shouldn't be thought or spoken; rather, they are things that should largely remain between God and myself alone, at least until He should grant me the wisdom to handle them or deal with them in a right way. Of what I do write, I hope that I regret saying nothing.

... Call it harmony. But there is a strange balance between discourse and comfort in my life. I am finding a lot of struggles in places I never thought find it, and I have found rest in places I did not expect that I would find, at all.

To an extent, some of it feels like a repeat of High School, (though a lot of that may be my own fault.) Some of it is disappointment, brought about by standards that were set too high. Some of it is true, spiritual exhaustion. There were folk in Pittsburgh who constantly pursued opportunities to serve God and disciple and witness and grow in holiness, and I loved it, and fed on it, and eventually took it for granted. It consumed my lifestyle, in a very good way.

... But there are days here, when classes end, and many rush off to fulfill nothing but the desire to be entertained. Seldom since I have been here have I sat with folk who have spoken enthusiastically of what God has done in their lives, who have sought to sit and pray with authenticity, who have desired to serve Him beyond the obligation of their classes and campus requirements. And I am disheartened.

There is also a fear, possibly one that I shouldn't have, of the passionate opposition of certain others. There is a problem of differing on opinion with many, particularily on whether a believer will certainly produce fruit. I believe that at some point, every true believer will show some sign of God's work and that it will progressively show throughout his life. But some have found this view judgemental in their eyes, and rash, because it might call someone to question their salvation if they are living a life that pursues and loves sin. (I am not sure, in that situation, that questioning such a thing as salvation would be a terribly bad idea.)

... But I digress.

All of this makes me appreciate, that much more, the small body of believers that the Lord has brought me to by His divine providence. I see them one day out of seven, (and only a fraction of that day,) but it has become a true sabbath for my spirit, I think. And knowing of God's sovereignty is a great and dire reassurance. For I know that before I encounter anything that has grieved me, God knewabout it. I know that He may even use me to deal with it if He finds it fit to; He may not. Either way, He already has a plan.

On that note ... I don't know what God does have for me. I truly do not. I at least strongly suspect that He has called me as a tribal missionary, but God has the divine right to my calling -- not me. This is one of those times when I've just got to keep on obeying Him in every circumstance and rely on Him despite my lack of sight, trusting that He will get me to His intended destination. I won't lie -- it is hard not knowing where you will be in a few months' time, or whether you will be able to continue to know the folk that you love, or whether you might be taken from them and placed in a different place altogether. It is (I'm speaking of my emotions) hard not knowing this.

But I didn't enter into this ignorant of the fact that this may, could, would happen. In a human way, it is very frightening. Yet somehow, the Christian perspective makes all of these anxieties seem very insignificant.

I do wonder, though, whether I am making the mistake of subconciously hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel on this side of the eternity? If this world is akin to a dark box, then it may be that there will be many more tiny holes poked for breathing, and they will shed some light, but the true flood of Truth and Light will not come until Christ Himself returns.

Not to say that there won't be highs with the lows. I did say that this was a proverbial rollercoaster. But I wonder at the future things. Things I just, can't, possibly know at this point.

Never matter. God knows. After all, He is my author, is He not? :)

Please keep me in your prayers. That in all things, God might be glorified, that I might have the pleasure of being a part of those things, that through whatever circumstance I am in, I can continue -- if even rarely -- to have the true growth and fellowship with the body of Christ that is so satisfying to Him and His beloved. I would take even the crumbs of the bread of life before any grand feast this world has to offer, but God is full of grace and does not starve His children.

The God Who Preserves

When my friend Rachel and I left Pittsburgh for New Tribes Bible Institute in Waukesha, Wisconsin, my friends had literally written their love all over the mangy car. Things like "We will miss you" and "Honk if you love us" remained for weeks on the windows and everything else. Not long after into our arrival, the ritual spread to other New Tribers' cars, and our own car gained the phrase, "I AM WASHINGTONIAN!" on the back passenger window. (This was a reference to Rachel's home state.)

Classes were going well for us, and between Evangelism, and Hermeneutics, and all of the various biblical history courses, we'd gained so much knowledge and wisdom. Unfortunately, one of our other roommates, Shelby, had some complications and had to leave us early. So, Shelby spent the past week packing up and saying her goodbyes. Friday night came, and I lent her my car so that two of my roommates could escort her home weekend. This included my friend Rachel, and also a girl named Rebecca. I was asleep when they left.

I woke up on the couch in the study room early the next morning, with a beautiful, deep red sunrise blaring in my eyes. But as I stumbled across the room and read a message on my cellphone, a certain news came to me that I wasn't expecting. I read it and had to read it again, for my heart had nearly jumped and I wanted to make sure that I was understanding it correctly.

It wasn't long before I realised that Rebecca, who should have been at Shelby's, was asleep in the bedroom. Not sure whether I should wake her, I covered her morning kitchen work as I had promised. When I came back to the room later that morning, she met me at the door. There was a moment of silence; I looked at her. There was a deep bruise across her neck, hair that was slightly singed, and a red mark across her nose. It was evident that something had happened.

"I got the text ... Are you ok?" I asked her.

She nodded. And in the conversation that followed, she gradually cleared up some of the confusion that had been clouding my mind that morning. So, to the best of my understanding, this is a summary of what she told me:

The three of them had thought about going to a football game, but they decided against it. They were heading home around 10 PM, with Rebecca driving (Rachel was too tired,) Shelby in the passenger seat with her iPod, and Rachel in the back. The back window was rolled down partially, and since gas prices have been rather impressive, lately, they had just filled the tank.

About ... Thirty minutes into the ride, give or take, they were approaching a rural intersection at about 50-55 MPH. Also approaching that intersection -- from a different road -- was a Semi.

Rebecca pressed on the breaks, but they failed. Before the airbags could even be deployed, the engine had burst into flames. The impact into the side of the Semi was head-on. The entire front end was crushed and incinerated within moments. Anyone who would have seen the wreck would have been certain that it was fatal.

But God ... Is a Mighty God. He is merciful. Who can slip through His fingers before their time? To whom has He given a purpose that He has not given also a life long enough to fulfill it? Though it should not have been possible that any survived the wreck, all three escaped in time.

By the grace of God, the windshield did not shatter (though it was broken in by the fire department.) By the grace of God, the door that often stuck did not remain stuck, (for Shelby had to kick it, and it was not uncommon for that door to have problems.) By the grace of God, seatbelts that were not on 15 minutes before were remembered just in time. By the grace of God, they all made it out with their lives.

It is a characteristic of the Lord to take dire circumstances and cause unbelievable results. You will find this theme repeated again and again in scripture. All things work together for His glory. Do you not realise this?

... As I mentioned, the back window had been rolled down -- just partially. Rachel had proudly once wrote, "I AM WASHINGTONIAN!" ...



But, as visible in the shots of the aftermath, it reads but one thing:

"I AM."

New Blog Site

I have, and hope to mantain, my blogs on MySpace and DeviantART.

... Unfortunately, both of those sites are blocked from school. So, in the meantime, I have relocated here. Hopefully I will continue to hear from my folk. :)

Heather