"O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light;
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight."
This summer on my trip to the West Bank, I often caught myself humming this hymn that I had sung on so many Christmas Eves before. I found myself singing it quietly to myself in Manger Square or while walking throughout the streets of Beit Jala. This meoldy seemed to narrate my experience as I met with a pleathora of people from different nationalities, religions, and political persuasions, as I visited holy sites, and as I sat on the roof with a young family and heard their heartbreaking story of tragedy that is all too famliar to the people of the West Bank. In the short time we were there, my view of the world began to take a huge shift.
At some points while we were there, it was so hard to believe that Mary and Joseph would have wandered the same streets. The quaint, rural town of Bethlehem I had imagined wasn't there. It was busy and crowded and full of injstice and confusion. Surely, this was not the Bethlehem where Christ appeared...
Other times during the trip, the times I truly cherish, I felt as if Mary and Joseph might as well have been walking alongside me. The glimmers of hope I experienced in conversation with friends, in worship with fellow Christians, and at the sight of flowers that stubbornly worked their way through the cracks of the concrete to bloom reminded me of the God who became incarnate in that very town.
Two thousand years later, the area surrounding the place where Christ was born is one of the most tension-filled areas in the world. Surely, this is the place where a loving God would send Christ to appear.
Tonight, as I give thanks that God is not afraid to dwell among us, the last verse of "O Little Town of Bethlehem" is my prayer:
"O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin, and enter in, be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel!"
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Where the Heart is
Alright, you knew it was coming. If you know me you can only expect this to happen. You probably predicted it by the hundreds of photos on Facebook, or by the number of soapstone statues I brought home. When I bought the Sabra hummus that doesn't seem to taste as good anymore, you probably figured it out. When I insisted on wearing a scarf in May and my new Aladdin pants in front of my new coworkers, you got the message. I miss Zimbabwe, and I miss the West Bank.
This always happens. When I was in youth, I would miss mission trip. And then it was Glen Lake, and then it was Birchwood, and then McMurry, and now this. I don't think I understand. So many nights I've cried myself to sleep wishing I was back in Alaska, or shaking in excitement for the next mission trip. Now I daydream about what it would be like going to Africa University or living in the West Bank-which is almost ridiculous. I just got back a week ago, I'm not even done processing yet! I guess this is part of it....
As of now, I'm in Glen Rose for the next 2.5 months or so, and I only know two options. The first is to continue to live in this state of constantly longing to go back. A state where I weep and laugh at memories, where the people of Africa and the West Bank are close to my heart, and I think about it all the time. This option scares me. I don't think my heart can handle it all. My heart aches just thinking about it.
My second option is to recognize I'm not there anymore, and to try to live life in Glen Rose/Abilene. I know this doesn't work, that the experiences I had on this trip cut far too deep into my soul to be able to compartmentalize them. However, I'm scared this is what I will try to do, that I'll act how I did before because it sounds easier than truly missing these places.
People always say "my heart is in _____" or "my heart beats in _____." I get what they're saying. My heart beats in Vivian, in Shertz, in Gonzales, in El Paso, in Mrs. Reed's classroom, in Alaska, in Bethlehem and Jerulsalem, in Mutare, in Abilene, at Glen Lake. But my heart also beats in my chest. I carry these things with me. And while I'm still figuring out what to do with and how to make sense of all these feelings, I do know I am thankful I have them. Even when all I can do is cry, it reminds me I am connected to my friends across the world.
As our driver dropped us off at the Harare Airport he shook my hand and said "Don't forget us." And as we drove out of Bethlehem and passed the separation wall I remember reading "Don't forget the struggle." It is my prayer that I never forget my brothers and sisters. I pray that I never forget or become immune to people who are suffering just because I can't see them. And maybe-somewhat ironically, I pray God gives me peace in knowing that this uneasy feeling and tension will probably never go away.
This always happens. When I was in youth, I would miss mission trip. And then it was Glen Lake, and then it was Birchwood, and then McMurry, and now this. I don't think I understand. So many nights I've cried myself to sleep wishing I was back in Alaska, or shaking in excitement for the next mission trip. Now I daydream about what it would be like going to Africa University or living in the West Bank-which is almost ridiculous. I just got back a week ago, I'm not even done processing yet! I guess this is part of it....
As of now, I'm in Glen Rose for the next 2.5 months or so, and I only know two options. The first is to continue to live in this state of constantly longing to go back. A state where I weep and laugh at memories, where the people of Africa and the West Bank are close to my heart, and I think about it all the time. This option scares me. I don't think my heart can handle it all. My heart aches just thinking about it.
My second option is to recognize I'm not there anymore, and to try to live life in Glen Rose/Abilene. I know this doesn't work, that the experiences I had on this trip cut far too deep into my soul to be able to compartmentalize them. However, I'm scared this is what I will try to do, that I'll act how I did before because it sounds easier than truly missing these places.
People always say "my heart is in _____" or "my heart beats in _____." I get what they're saying. My heart beats in Vivian, in Shertz, in Gonzales, in El Paso, in Mrs. Reed's classroom, in Alaska, in Bethlehem and Jerulsalem, in Mutare, in Abilene, at Glen Lake. But my heart also beats in my chest. I carry these things with me. And while I'm still figuring out what to do with and how to make sense of all these feelings, I do know I am thankful I have them. Even when all I can do is cry, it reminds me I am connected to my friends across the world.
As our driver dropped us off at the Harare Airport he shook my hand and said "Don't forget us." And as we drove out of Bethlehem and passed the separation wall I remember reading "Don't forget the struggle." It is my prayer that I never forget my brothers and sisters. I pray that I never forget or become immune to people who are suffering just because I can't see them. And maybe-somewhat ironically, I pray God gives me peace in knowing that this uneasy feeling and tension will probably never go away.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Who are we not to be?
My name is Carly and I am not the most consistent blogger anymore. Trust me, I have a few good stories I'd like to tell that are tucked away in my journal, but the deeper I get into my coursework, the more papers I have to write, and the more tired I get of having to create, structure, and edit papers (my journal doesn't grade too harshly when I use "their" instead of "her.") Therefore, most of my exciting stories have not made my way to the world wide web just yet. And you better believe my life is full of exciting stories. I mean, I ate a whole can of Lima beans the other day.
Other than eating vegetables traditionally rejected by society, I've been interning with a special-needs Sunday School class the past two semesters. The handful of individuals that I spend my Sunday mornings with have taught me lots about God's love. We have laughed together, been sad together, and learned together. They ask every week about my family and friends, even ones they have never met. They care about people, and they never cease to amaze me.
Part of my internship entails home visitation. Just about every week I visit the group home where the ladies in the Sunday School class live. In total, there are about 15 residents who live in the home where they eat, sleep, and live life together. Most of the residents are high functioning, but aren't quite capable of living on their own. This living option allows them to live independently of their parents, while still being given any extra care they might need. They basically are at camp all year round, and I'm kinda jealous.
I've gotten the privilege to build relationships with most of the ladies there, and as soon as I walk in the front door on Saturdays I am reminded that I am loved by their warm welcome. This afternoon I happen to arrive before their talent show. Yea, TALENT SHOW! They totally are at camp all year round.
Beforehand, a few of the ladies I talked to were excited about the talent show, informing me they would be performing a George Strait or Kenny Rogers song. However, about half of the ladies I talked to had decided they wouldn't be doing anything.
We gathered in the living room and were waiting for the first person to perform. All of a sudden, Elizabeth stood up. Elizabeth is one of the members of my Sunday School class, and had told me she wouldn't be participating in the talent show. I've known her for almost 2 years, and appreciate her gentle disposition. It didn't seem out of character for her to not want to sing in front of everyone.
I was taken by surprise as she took her walker to the front and began to sing. We all watched and listened to her beautiful voice. She put everything into that song, singing from the bottom of her heart. When she was done, we clapped, and she sat back down.
Immediately after that, a few of the ladies ran to their rooms to go get their own CDs so they could sing. They had also originally chosen not to participate, but now they were inspired. One by one, each of the ladies got up and performed some sort of dance and/or song. From that I was reminded of the quote by Marianne Williamson;
For those 30 minutes, I got to experience the joy of people living into their full potential. By letting their light shine, they created a space that allowed others to do so as well.
In a world where we focus on the age, stature, financial status, criminal records, and IQ of a person, today I am thankful to have the opportunity to see people through a different lens. I am thankful to have participated in celebrating what gives the world light. I am thankful to have been reminded no matter how inadequate I think I am, I do have a light to shine.
This experience intrudes my soul and beckons me to ask myself the question posed by Marianne Williamson later on in her poem;
Other than eating vegetables traditionally rejected by society, I've been interning with a special-needs Sunday School class the past two semesters. The handful of individuals that I spend my Sunday mornings with have taught me lots about God's love. We have laughed together, been sad together, and learned together. They ask every week about my family and friends, even ones they have never met. They care about people, and they never cease to amaze me.
Part of my internship entails home visitation. Just about every week I visit the group home where the ladies in the Sunday School class live. In total, there are about 15 residents who live in the home where they eat, sleep, and live life together. Most of the residents are high functioning, but aren't quite capable of living on their own. This living option allows them to live independently of their parents, while still being given any extra care they might need. They basically are at camp all year round, and I'm kinda jealous.
I've gotten the privilege to build relationships with most of the ladies there, and as soon as I walk in the front door on Saturdays I am reminded that I am loved by their warm welcome. This afternoon I happen to arrive before their talent show. Yea, TALENT SHOW! They totally are at camp all year round.
Beforehand, a few of the ladies I talked to were excited about the talent show, informing me they would be performing a George Strait or Kenny Rogers song. However, about half of the ladies I talked to had decided they wouldn't be doing anything.
We gathered in the living room and were waiting for the first person to perform. All of a sudden, Elizabeth stood up. Elizabeth is one of the members of my Sunday School class, and had told me she wouldn't be participating in the talent show. I've known her for almost 2 years, and appreciate her gentle disposition. It didn't seem out of character for her to not want to sing in front of everyone.
I was taken by surprise as she took her walker to the front and began to sing. We all watched and listened to her beautiful voice. She put everything into that song, singing from the bottom of her heart. When she was done, we clapped, and she sat back down.
Immediately after that, a few of the ladies ran to their rooms to go get their own CDs so they could sing. They had also originally chosen not to participate, but now they were inspired. One by one, each of the ladies got up and performed some sort of dance and/or song. From that I was reminded of the quote by Marianne Williamson;
And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fears, our presence automatically liberates others.You could see the joy on their faces as they spun around the room or swayed back and forth. Busting out Elvis, Reba, or a song about Columbus, it didn't matter if someone sang more in tune than someone else- we weren't comparing. It was understood that each person had something equally important to contribute. As they took turns, they spurred one another to share, until almost every person, even the ones who were shy at first, were given a time to sing. Every time someone would get done singing, we would all clap and cheer as if to say "that was great! You're so special!" Then they would sit down and clap for someone else as if to say in return "hey, you're special too!"
For those 30 minutes, I got to experience the joy of people living into their full potential. By letting their light shine, they created a space that allowed others to do so as well.
In a world where we focus on the age, stature, financial status, criminal records, and IQ of a person, today I am thankful to have the opportunity to see people through a different lens. I am thankful to have participated in celebrating what gives the world light. I am thankful to have been reminded no matter how inadequate I think I am, I do have a light to shine.
This experience intrudes my soul and beckons me to ask myself the question posed by Marianne Williamson later on in her poem;
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are we not to be?How will you let your light shine?
Friday, May 25, 2012
North to Ninevah
Let's talk about the fact that I'm going to Alaska this summer, because it sounds pretty ridiulous. I guess if I told you I was working at a United Methodist camp, it sounds a little less ridiculous... but not much.
Last fall I went to a conference in Missouri called Exploration. While I was there I, by chance, met someone that had worked with a few of my friends at a camp in Alaska. At the end of the weekend he casually invited my friend and I to also apply to work at Birchwood. I laughed it off, telling him I already had a camp where I worked. Besides, why on earth would I care to go to Alaska? But as I walked away that morning, for some reason I thought "man, that'd be weird if that's the way God was calling me to go to Alaska."
Turns out, He was.
After that encounter, I couldn't get Alaska out of my mind for some reason. And it didn't help that the subject casually came up in conversations daily...I mean seriously, who talks about Alaska? I tried to push aside the notion just like Jonah tried to push aside the call to go to Ninevah. I busied my mind, as if I was sticking my fingers in my ears and saying "Sorry God, I can't hear you." After all, I was suposed to work at Glen Lake, that's what made sense. I had come so far the past 3 years; from not liking camp at all, to working in the kitchen, to being a Junior Counselor. Surely, God had worked on me this far to lead me to the glorious job of being a Senior Staffer at Glen Lake... I mean, that's the curveball I wasn't expecting! In fact, when I first started working at Glen Lake I told myself I would never be on Summer Staff. So, it would make a nice, ironic plotline if that's what God had been trying to do all along, right? In fact, that's what I had caught on to and come to terms with in the past year. I was ready to be a full-out Senior Staffer, so Alaska would have to be a no-go. What was wrong with Tarshish anyway? I was Carly Payne, the Glen Laker, and that's all there was to it.
However, God kept working on my heart and softening my ears to the "A word..." but my heart was pretty hard. I recently found a journal entry from the end of last year where I expressed that I didn't want to work at Glen Lake just because it was familiar. I wanted God to use me in whatever way He needed me, I wanted to glorify Him in whatever I did. I prayed He would stretch me and lead me wherever I needed to be, but that I was scared. I was sacred that after I prayed and listened and was lead, I would still hear the world "Alaska."
I'd like to think Jonah didn't instantly know he was in a whale. If you've seen Veggie Tales, you might understand my ligistical reasoning. Jonah was just swimming, and suddenly everything he had been running away from caught up with him in a big, dark hole. One day I was driving home from Weatherford and I couldn't stop singing "The Summons." It's one of my favorite hymns, but I'll admit that I don't have all the verses in order (so if anyone knows a good version on iTunes, let me know.) Over and over the words "Will you go where you don't know and never be the same?" pounded on my soul. Breaking down in tears, I prayed to God. I told Him how much Alaska ruined my plans, and how much that scared me. I told Him how it didn't even make any sense. I had tried to ignore the fact I was running away from my Ninevah, and at that moment I realized I couldn't anymore. I told God I would go if He wanted me to, but He would have to really show me that He was calling me. I prayed He would give me a peace about going, and about not being at Glen Lake. Even if God was sending me there just to stretch me and make me trust Him (as if those were little things,) I was going to make an effort to go.
"...I called out of my distress to the LORD, And He answered me. I cried for help from the depth of Sheol; You heard my voice." -Jonah 2:2
I feel that this was the part where God heard my cry and told the fish to spit me up onto dry land, which was great. This is the part where Jonah and I finally start heading towards Ninevah, which is also great. But let's not forget that we're heading towards Ninevah covered in metaphorical whale vomit in the desert heat. That's gross.
I spent my Christmas break in a lot of prayer. I seemed to go back and forth every minute about wanting or not wanting to go. I actually had to fill out my application twice because I purposely didn't fill it out well the first time (if I didn't get the job, God couldn't get made at me for not going, right?) I can't pinpoint an exact moment, but when I returned to McMurry, my attitude towards Birchwood had changed. Granted I still had days with doubts, but I was generally hopeful and excited about what God had in store for me.
The more I talked to people about Alaska, the more they encouraged me.
Standing in the kitchen of Pie Peddlers telling Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Cagle about this crazy idea, I was first encouraged to even really consider the idea as legitimate.
I was encouraged by my friends Matt, Marianne, and Ethan as they jokingly reminded me about the dream Marianne had a few years ago about all of us working at a Methodist camp in Alaska.
Talking with my friends at McMurry who had worked at Birchwood, the vision became more concrete in my head and I began to picture myself canoeing on Psalm Lake.
Being told by my boss at Glen Lake she would write my recommendation letter, I began to realize that God's call transcended my own norms.
I was comforted by a cross I found in a box that my grandpa had brought back from a mission trip to- you guessed it- Alaska. 40 years ago, and I'm sure long before, God was weaving this plan for me.
Speaking with former campers, parents, and fellow staffers, I realized that the good memories I had of Glen Lake were because God had brought me there the past 3 summers. I began to realize that God was calling me somewhere new, with just as many good memories and experiences in store.
And now, a few months later, I'm sitting on my couch wondering what my mom's going to say when she finds out I was blogging instead of packing since I leave in two days. I'm so excited I feel like throwing up. I still don't know exactly what God has in store for me, or what working as an intern at Birchwood will mean for me. I know some things I'll see right away, and some will take years to come to the surface. God has bigger plans for myself than I do, and He has a nice way of doing things like adding snow caps to our Ninevahs so we realize that too.
Last fall I went to a conference in Missouri called Exploration. While I was there I, by chance, met someone that had worked with a few of my friends at a camp in Alaska. At the end of the weekend he casually invited my friend and I to also apply to work at Birchwood. I laughed it off, telling him I already had a camp where I worked. Besides, why on earth would I care to go to Alaska? But as I walked away that morning, for some reason I thought "man, that'd be weird if that's the way God was calling me to go to Alaska."
Turns out, He was.
After that encounter, I couldn't get Alaska out of my mind for some reason. And it didn't help that the subject casually came up in conversations daily...I mean seriously, who talks about Alaska? I tried to push aside the notion just like Jonah tried to push aside the call to go to Ninevah. I busied my mind, as if I was sticking my fingers in my ears and saying "Sorry God, I can't hear you." After all, I was suposed to work at Glen Lake, that's what made sense. I had come so far the past 3 years; from not liking camp at all, to working in the kitchen, to being a Junior Counselor. Surely, God had worked on me this far to lead me to the glorious job of being a Senior Staffer at Glen Lake... I mean, that's the curveball I wasn't expecting! In fact, when I first started working at Glen Lake I told myself I would never be on Summer Staff. So, it would make a nice, ironic plotline if that's what God had been trying to do all along, right? In fact, that's what I had caught on to and come to terms with in the past year. I was ready to be a full-out Senior Staffer, so Alaska would have to be a no-go. What was wrong with Tarshish anyway? I was Carly Payne, the Glen Laker, and that's all there was to it.
However, God kept working on my heart and softening my ears to the "A word..." but my heart was pretty hard. I recently found a journal entry from the end of last year where I expressed that I didn't want to work at Glen Lake just because it was familiar. I wanted God to use me in whatever way He needed me, I wanted to glorify Him in whatever I did. I prayed He would stretch me and lead me wherever I needed to be, but that I was scared. I was sacred that after I prayed and listened and was lead, I would still hear the world "Alaska."
I'd like to think Jonah didn't instantly know he was in a whale. If you've seen Veggie Tales, you might understand my ligistical reasoning. Jonah was just swimming, and suddenly everything he had been running away from caught up with him in a big, dark hole. One day I was driving home from Weatherford and I couldn't stop singing "The Summons." It's one of my favorite hymns, but I'll admit that I don't have all the verses in order (so if anyone knows a good version on iTunes, let me know.) Over and over the words "Will you go where you don't know and never be the same?" pounded on my soul. Breaking down in tears, I prayed to God. I told Him how much Alaska ruined my plans, and how much that scared me. I told Him how it didn't even make any sense. I had tried to ignore the fact I was running away from my Ninevah, and at that moment I realized I couldn't anymore. I told God I would go if He wanted me to, but He would have to really show me that He was calling me. I prayed He would give me a peace about going, and about not being at Glen Lake. Even if God was sending me there just to stretch me and make me trust Him (as if those were little things,) I was going to make an effort to go.
"...I called out of my distress to the LORD, And He answered me. I cried for help from the depth of Sheol; You heard my voice." -Jonah 2:2
I feel that this was the part where God heard my cry and told the fish to spit me up onto dry land, which was great. This is the part where Jonah and I finally start heading towards Ninevah, which is also great. But let's not forget that we're heading towards Ninevah covered in metaphorical whale vomit in the desert heat. That's gross.
I spent my Christmas break in a lot of prayer. I seemed to go back and forth every minute about wanting or not wanting to go. I actually had to fill out my application twice because I purposely didn't fill it out well the first time (if I didn't get the job, God couldn't get made at me for not going, right?) I can't pinpoint an exact moment, but when I returned to McMurry, my attitude towards Birchwood had changed. Granted I still had days with doubts, but I was generally hopeful and excited about what God had in store for me.
The more I talked to people about Alaska, the more they encouraged me.
Standing in the kitchen of Pie Peddlers telling Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Cagle about this crazy idea, I was first encouraged to even really consider the idea as legitimate.
I was encouraged by my friends Matt, Marianne, and Ethan as they jokingly reminded me about the dream Marianne had a few years ago about all of us working at a Methodist camp in Alaska.
Talking with my friends at McMurry who had worked at Birchwood, the vision became more concrete in my head and I began to picture myself canoeing on Psalm Lake.
Being told by my boss at Glen Lake she would write my recommendation letter, I began to realize that God's call transcended my own norms.
I was comforted by a cross I found in a box that my grandpa had brought back from a mission trip to- you guessed it- Alaska. 40 years ago, and I'm sure long before, God was weaving this plan for me.
Speaking with former campers, parents, and fellow staffers, I realized that the good memories I had of Glen Lake were because God had brought me there the past 3 summers. I began to realize that God was calling me somewhere new, with just as many good memories and experiences in store.
And now, a few months later, I'm sitting on my couch wondering what my mom's going to say when she finds out I was blogging instead of packing since I leave in two days. I'm so excited I feel like throwing up. I still don't know exactly what God has in store for me, or what working as an intern at Birchwood will mean for me. I know some things I'll see right away, and some will take years to come to the surface. God has bigger plans for myself than I do, and He has a nice way of doing things like adding snow caps to our Ninevahs so we realize that too.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
When the Heart Aches
The more I come into an intimate relationship with Christ, the more my heart aches. I've heard someone say that since they became serious about Christ, they've wept more than they ever did before.
My heart aches as I look around into a broken world. I hate to see those effected by poverty, disease, tragedies, or broken homes. However those circumstances don't compare to when my soul weeps when I see those who don't know Christ. I ache not because I long for the gain of putting more people in the pews, but because I long for my brothers and sisters to know the joy Christ brings.
I hate to see people so turned off by a God that doesn't understand them, because that's not the God I know. I long for the day where science and politics aren't a construct that keeps us from living in unity with God and one another, but points to our magnificent Creator.
My heart aches for this broken world, and on this Holy Saturday I remember that it was my sin that made it so. I caused the only good thing that ever happened to me to be nailed to a cross, and sealed Him in a tomb. Today is the day I cry out to God, asking for forgiveness as I sit and wait in the broken world I helped to create.
My heart aches as I look around into a broken world. I hate to see those effected by poverty, disease, tragedies, or broken homes. However those circumstances don't compare to when my soul weeps when I see those who don't know Christ. I ache not because I long for the gain of putting more people in the pews, but because I long for my brothers and sisters to know the joy Christ brings.
I hate to see people so turned off by a God that doesn't understand them, because that's not the God I know. I long for the day where science and politics aren't a construct that keeps us from living in unity with God and one another, but points to our magnificent Creator.
My heart aches for this broken world, and on this Holy Saturday I remember that it was my sin that made it so. I caused the only good thing that ever happened to me to be nailed to a cross, and sealed Him in a tomb. Today is the day I cry out to God, asking for forgiveness as I sit and wait in the broken world I helped to create.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
The Blog Post About Your Last Midwinter
To all of my Student Leadership Seniors approaching their last Midwinter,
It's hard to see something end when you've invested so much of your time and so many of your years into something that holds a special place in your heart. And this weekend, your fears are manifesting, the place you never thought you'd be is actually approaching quicker than you can make sense of it. It's real, this is your last Midwinter.
First of all, any of those feelings you are having are perfectly legitimate. You don't have to pretend to be happy if you're sad, and you don't have to be sad if you're happy. If there's anything you've learned after being on SLT, please let it be about leading in the way God made you, which is living an authentic Christian life.
Maybe you're looking back at your first Midwinter, or thinking about how much you've changed because of what happened there. Friendships were made. Your idea of God was stretched out of the box. Somehow, God impacted you to live in a new way. Don't forget where you started. When you're frustrated about how something is going terribly and you feel like you're useless and of no help, remember where you used to be.
Do God's work. He has given you this wonderful opportunity to shine His light for ALL to see. I regret all the times I tried to look cool instead of working to advance the Kingdom. Even after only a year, I already don't remember what games we played, all the people in my group, or who one the ridiculous YSF contest. Those things have all faded, and the thing I remember is that Jesus showed up. It sounds cheesy and like a good Christian answer, but becomes more and more the way I feel. THAT was what changed my life. Don't miss the opportunity for a memory like that.
Receive the grace that God has bestowed upon you, it's a wonderful gift. This weekend won't be great because of you. Actually, the more of you there is, the more it will suck. Allow yourself to create a space in your heart where God can work. He's going to do great things.
I love all of you guys, and not being with you this year somehow let's me step back to see how incredibly blessed I am to have you all in my life. I once heard former SLTer Molly Nason tell a senior not be too bummed about the last Midwinter because God has even better things in store for you. It was weird having someone tell me it wasn't the end of the world. At the time I wasn't sure how that would play out in my life, but one year out and I can assure you He does. Jeremiah 29:11 reminds us of this wonderful promise.
It's such a blessing to see all the wonderful ways you all are sharing God's love.I'll be praying for you all, and I love you guys and can't wait to hear about it!
In Christ,
Carly Payne
Hebrews 10:24-25
It's hard to see something end when you've invested so much of your time and so many of your years into something that holds a special place in your heart. And this weekend, your fears are manifesting, the place you never thought you'd be is actually approaching quicker than you can make sense of it. It's real, this is your last Midwinter.
First of all, any of those feelings you are having are perfectly legitimate. You don't have to pretend to be happy if you're sad, and you don't have to be sad if you're happy. If there's anything you've learned after being on SLT, please let it be about leading in the way God made you, which is living an authentic Christian life.
Maybe you're looking back at your first Midwinter, or thinking about how much you've changed because of what happened there. Friendships were made. Your idea of God was stretched out of the box. Somehow, God impacted you to live in a new way. Don't forget where you started. When you're frustrated about how something is going terribly and you feel like you're useless and of no help, remember where you used to be.
Do God's work. He has given you this wonderful opportunity to shine His light for ALL to see. I regret all the times I tried to look cool instead of working to advance the Kingdom. Even after only a year, I already don't remember what games we played, all the people in my group, or who one the ridiculous YSF contest. Those things have all faded, and the thing I remember is that Jesus showed up. It sounds cheesy and like a good Christian answer, but becomes more and more the way I feel. THAT was what changed my life. Don't miss the opportunity for a memory like that.
Receive the grace that God has bestowed upon you, it's a wonderful gift. This weekend won't be great because of you. Actually, the more of you there is, the more it will suck. Allow yourself to create a space in your heart where God can work. He's going to do great things.
I love all of you guys, and not being with you this year somehow let's me step back to see how incredibly blessed I am to have you all in my life. I once heard former SLTer Molly Nason tell a senior not be too bummed about the last Midwinter because God has even better things in store for you. It was weird having someone tell me it wasn't the end of the world. At the time I wasn't sure how that would play out in my life, but one year out and I can assure you He does. Jeremiah 29:11 reminds us of this wonderful promise.
It's such a blessing to see all the wonderful ways you all are sharing God's love.I'll be praying for you all, and I love you guys and can't wait to hear about it!
In Christ,
Carly Payne
Hebrews 10:24-25
Thursday, February 9, 2012
The Tower
If you've come into contact with me in the past 5 months or so, chances are I tried to push a green bracelet on you and told you about Tower Youth. I might have even physically restrained you until I could show you some pictures of the students or tell a story that you probably didn't care about that I thought was hilarious. Let's face it, I'm an 18-year old grandma. However, for the sake of blogging.
This summer my camp friend Whitney messaged me about helping with a youth group in the fall when I would move to McMurry. She said they were looking for more girl sponsors and that she thought of me, and I was honored. But at the time she asked, I had just gotten back from my last mission trip AS a youth, and quite frankly I thought I was burnt out. Even as a participant, I was weary of going right back to a youth group. And I certainly didn't want to do it just because "that's what you do when you're in college." I told her I'd think and pray about it, but my mind was pretty well made up.
The rest of the summer I wrestled with the idea. I'll admit that I thought a lot more than I intentionally prayed about it. I didn't want to miss out if that's what God was calling me to do, but at the same time I didn't think He was.
Okay, here's the cool God part.
That Sunday when I got to McMurry they had a special service at Aldersgate UMC across the street from campus. All the UMCs in Abilene had people there to support the students and to help connect them with a church. That morning I met Wanda, who hooked me up helping teach the Special People's Sunday School class (It's only two of my favorite things, Jesus and special needs people, no big deal. That's for another post.)
My friend and I walked in late for the service. There were probably 14 million people there. I know Abilene is bigger than Glen Rose, so I'm sure my estimate is logical. Out of those 14 million people, guess who we sit by? You guessed it, Jared, Jordan, and Ryan (aka Special K, Smelly, and Cheerleader,) three of the Wylie UMC Youth workers. They invited me to come to the back-to-school youth pool party, and from there I was hooked. There's no way I could fit everything that God has done through this youth group into one post, but hopefully now you'll be a little less confused now when I tweet that I'm "going towering."
By no will of my own did I end up at Wylie UMC, but I'm sure glad I did. God has a way of vomiting us out where we need to be.
This summer my camp friend Whitney messaged me about helping with a youth group in the fall when I would move to McMurry. She said they were looking for more girl sponsors and that she thought of me, and I was honored. But at the time she asked, I had just gotten back from my last mission trip AS a youth, and quite frankly I thought I was burnt out. Even as a participant, I was weary of going right back to a youth group. And I certainly didn't want to do it just because "that's what you do when you're in college." I told her I'd think and pray about it, but my mind was pretty well made up.
The rest of the summer I wrestled with the idea. I'll admit that I thought a lot more than I intentionally prayed about it. I didn't want to miss out if that's what God was calling me to do, but at the same time I didn't think He was.
Okay, here's the cool God part.
That Sunday when I got to McMurry they had a special service at Aldersgate UMC across the street from campus. All the UMCs in Abilene had people there to support the students and to help connect them with a church. That morning I met Wanda, who hooked me up helping teach the Special People's Sunday School class (It's only two of my favorite things, Jesus and special needs people, no big deal. That's for another post.)
My friend and I walked in late for the service. There were probably 14 million people there. I know Abilene is bigger than Glen Rose, so I'm sure my estimate is logical. Out of those 14 million people, guess who we sit by? You guessed it, Jared, Jordan, and Ryan (aka Special K, Smelly, and Cheerleader,) three of the Wylie UMC Youth workers. They invited me to come to the back-to-school youth pool party, and from there I was hooked. There's no way I could fit everything that God has done through this youth group into one post, but hopefully now you'll be a little less confused now when I tweet that I'm "going towering."
By no will of my own did I end up at Wylie UMC, but I'm sure glad I did. God has a way of vomiting us out where we need to be.
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