disciple now

The Disciple Now weekend in Atlanta was fulfilling.

I had the pleasure of leading break-out Bible study sessions with five great gals, ranging in age from 12 to 17 -- why yes, yes, that age gap is palpable! -- over a period of 36 hours, and cruising on oh, five-ish hours of sleep a night.

Here're my takeaways from a weekend well spent:

1. It is official: I need more than four evenings to prepare for 75 pages worth of teaching material.  My respect for teachers has skyrocketed, yet again.
 
2. It's been a long spell since I tapped into such sleep-deprived adrenaline, but glory to God, He provided.
 
3. Whirlyball is crazy.  Look it up.
 
4. The Buckhead Thriftique is organized by the Buckhead Christian Ministry in Atlanta, and its proceeds are used to provide financial assistance to people in crisis.  It's a good cause.  They hosted us for a service project that was particularly enlightening.  While I was organizing the storefront, I was surprised to see that shoppers there can purchase a pair of never-worn Armani pants for only $225, marked down from $995.  If that isn't a thrift store steal, I don't know what is.
 
5. The thousands of calories consumed in chicken nuggets, pizza, candy, and soft drinks over the weekend by all involved is impossible to know.  I do know that the grand total would be positively horrifying.

All calories and designer thrift stores aside, the young people that captured my heart this weekend are sensitive, and insightful, and impressionable.

They respect their elders, and they exercise civility and manners.

They have deeper souls than I give any youth credit for, and they crave an authenticity that shamefully, even adults aren't faithful to model.

They are fragile, and their spiritual path is narrow.  At any moment, one decision, one risk, one heartbreak could change their course forever.

While I trust for God's sovereignty and protection to be evident in their lives, I'm hoping hard for His spirit to sweep those beautiful gals right along His side, to a place of unshakable, supernatural confidence.

Goodness knows, they are fighting peer pressure that is difficult to imagine.

Our young Christians are in the minority, and their battle warrants serious attention from the body of Christ.

thankful thursday #66

I hear people say, Mm, let me pray about that, and I'll let you know.

I've said it, too.  In fact, I wanted to say it when I was approached about this weekend.

But really, it's often just the lame way that Christians fool themselves into believing that there's a more spiritually acceptable way to say "No."

Truly, there are some things that you don't need to pray about.  For example, don't ever catch yourself saying, I need to pray about whether or not to love that person today.

Or, Let me get back to you.  I'm just not sure I'm being called to care for that widow.

They're called commands, and they're all over the Bible.

I'm heading to Atlanta tomorrow to help out with a Disciple Now weekend for some youth gals from Emily's church.

Don't even ask me how this happened, but it did.  And I didn't pray about it.

I'm nervous, but we're called to invest in our youth.  We're called to be mentors.  To wrestle alongside the generation that is asking questions that are a matter of life and death.

Nope, haven't met them yet.  Nope, am not confident in my preparation.  And nope, am not qualified in any way to do this.

I'm just choosing to be thankful for the opportunity to be sretched.

We'll be going ...


 
... and if I come out alive after a weekend with youth girls, I will report back.  In the meantime, I'd covet your prayers.

I hope your weekend is giving you an opportunity to stretch yourself, and to appreciate the opportunity.  Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #65

Gosh, I love Thursdays.

This one is extra special, because my dear friend Kari is here to visit for the weekend.  I can't wait to soak up some girl time with her!

And, I had a few minutes of FaceTime with Little Man today (thanks again, iPhone).



He was in a good mood, because let's be honest, he lives the good life.

Then the meltdown ensued.  But I got just enough sweetness to make me go book a plane ticket, pronto.

Who's got you feeling thankful on this extra-special Thursday?  Go on, be grateful!

thankful thursday #64

At work, I've been using a Dell laptop for almost five years.

Five years ago, it was fantastic. 

One year ago, it had run its course.

For the past few months, it's been nothing more than an overweight piece of metal that has daily tempted me to hurl it out the window.

Tomorrow will mark two weeks since we got new computers, praise the Lord!  I wasn't fully prepared to proclaim my gratitude last week, because as you can imagine, the transition has been a challenge for all very normal reasons.

And this wasn't just a switch, this was a Big Switch.  From PCs to Macs.

I'm finally getting the hang of my new normal, and I'm appreciating the opportunity to learn a new way of doing things.

But I'm not ashamed to ask you Mac lovers out there: what're your favorite tips and tricks that I should know?  I'm thankful (in advance) for your wisdom.

And speaking of you, what're you happy about this week?  Go on, be grateful!

you're speaking my language

I am home from yet another choir rehearsal that makes me very, very bitter at the people in Genesis who thought the Tower of Babel was a good idea.

Remember that?  The Bible tells us that at this particular time, the whole earth had one language, and the same words (Gen. 11:1).  Over time, the people decided to build a city and a tower that would "make a name for themselves."  In other words, they wanted to bring glory to themselves and their accomplishments.  They wanted to be like God. 

And that did not go well with the Lord.

Ultimately, God confused the people and their language, so that they could not understand each other's speech (v. 7).

In Colla Voce, we regularly delve into musical lyrics that are written in languages foreign to me.  Latin, French, German, Italian, Slavic.  They're all (un)fair game.

It's frustrating in the beginning, when the words on the page mean nothing, and when you can sense the native speakers around the world collectively cringe.

I regularly feel the curse of the Tower of Babel.

But God is so gracious to slip me subtle reminders, even while I'm banging my head against the wall, repeating over and over the Slavic texts of Psalm 103.

See, the Holy Spirit is the universal language of believers.  But not everyone understands it.  It's frustrating, and foreign, and it makes people crazy while they learn to discern what it sounds like.

I'd be wise to remember that.  I was there once, struggling and learning to recognize the language that although I've come to know, I still wrestle mightily with from time to time.

And there's more.

In choir when we are fortunate enough to sing a piece in English, (and you can believe I do a happy dance), I'm reminded that the pronunciations of words in my native language are sometimes even harder than those of a foreign language.  We take it for granted that we all know the language.  We're lackadaisical in our execution of our native language.

And that's bad news, because did you know, that if all the voices don't sing the words with exactly the same diction, it is impossible to sing in tune?

It's why we spend hours perfecting our vowels, especially in English.  Aligning our voices to each other.  Otherwise, it's a lost cause.

Is that resonating with you?

As believers, too often we take for granted what we know as the language of the Spirit -- it should be, after all, familiar and recognizeable to us -- but we're just plain lazy when it comes to using it.

We might just barely be off in our execution, but we are severely out of tune with God and with his voice.

As it goes in Colla Voce, even when we're speaking a language that we use every day, we have to be intentional in its execution.  We have to work at alignment and diction.

We can't afford to take the Spirit's language lightly.  Too much is at stake.

one giant party

There's nothing about the NFL that really fires me up.

To illustrate, when my group of friends gathered tonight to watch the big game, we collectively decided to cheer on the Giants as a sort of default, because Tom Brady has some past relational indiscretions that we couldn't support.

We weren't exactly grace extenders here.  Nor, obviously, did we really care about the game.

But when (my foodie friend) Lori and I throw a party, we can get fired up about some good eats.

Last year, we unknowingly began a little tradition, serving up some team-themed dishes.  There were only three of us then, but while intimate, it made the Super Bowl more than bearable.

This year, we took it to a whole new level, co-hosting 13 friends in my little ol' apartment.  I said to someone when the RSVP's were rolling in, "I might have over-extended my space."

But I'm so glad we did!

And the food?



Food was coming out of our ears.  So fun, though.

The year of hospitality continues!

On a side note, don't judge me, but I was a fan of Madonna's half-time show.  Did anyone else love her "Like a Prayer" number?

thankful thursday #63

I do not pretend to live a hard life.  I am not out working fields, or hauling garbage, or anything else that's physically taxing.  Truly, I am blessed beyond what I could have asked or imagined.

And although I do not live a hard life, my muscles are seriously tense these days.  Mostly, this is a direct result of torture at the gym by dead lifts, lunges, and squats beyond what my body can tolerate.

The chest presses and dips and what-have-yous are taking their toll.  Combined, these exericses induce a soreness that is literally debilitating, to the point that my boss asks me when I limp out of my chair, "What happened to you?"

Let that soak in.

With that said, I've gotten a massage twice in my life, I think.  For whatever reason, I enjoy a facial, a haircut, a manicure or pedicure more often than I probably should, but pass on the massages.

I was transparent about my not-so-hard-knock life, was I not?

But this weekend, a massage it is!  Nikol and I are indulging in a day at a local spa, and I could not be more grateful.  I have high hopes that a 75-minute massage will work out some tension.

We will go first to the gym, and make ourselves feel splurge-worthy.  Sweat out any residual feelings of regret about the money we're about to spend.

After our massages, we'll have a girly lunch and hang out in the "quiet room" for who knows how long.

I just can't wait!

I hope you have something special planned this weekend.  Something relaxing, or rewarding, or something low-key with a favorite friend.

But whatever you've got planned, I hope you'll exercise a spirit of appreciation.  Go on, be grateful!