10 Things I Know to be True

Sarah Kay, a spoken word poet, has an amazing TED talk, "If I Should Have a Daughter" in which she describes how she teaches kids to write poetry. She has them write lists, one of which is "Ten Things I Know to be True."

In my Strategic Management class, we watched this video and then were encouraged to write such a list reflecting on what we have learned from grueling semester we have nearly completed. Here is my list:

1. All-nighters are still overrated. 
2. Tea is wonderful. So are coloring, naps, and playing with play-dough.
3. Being proactive and getting done early instead of the last minute is a beautiful feeling.
4. Trust and communication are hard, but they are vital. Teamwork does not exist without them. 
5. Ideas matter and have incredible value. 
6. People are complicated. So having FIVE people on a team is really complicated.
7. Time is precious, so use it well. 
8. I can do hard things if I choose too. Stop freaking out and DO something. 
9. To-do lists help me keep my sanity.
10. I have way more appreciation for smartphone apps and small businesses. Just because it looks simple and well-designed on the outside does not mean that it was easy. 

My classmates shared some of their reflections, too: 

• "You can do more than you feel but less than you think." ~Jeff
• "Asking for help isn't being ignorant, it shows a desire to learn." ~Rachel
• "People will always see things from a different perspective than you do." ~Nick
• "Be open to good things coming from hard things." ~Danielle 
• "Attitude is everything." ~Libby
• "Time is a crucial, limited resource."~Josh
• "Pushing forward is sometimes the wrong thing to do." ~Nadia 

My strategic management team. We created an app called
 ShareDat that is designed to make sharing items between
neighbors easier and safer. 

This class has been one of the hardest things I have ever done. In fact, I cried and got angry about it again today. But looking back at this list I see I really have learned some good things from the class. And, in addition to my 10 things, I grew in my business knowledge. We took five random people and made ourselves a team and a respectable business plan. I know more about smartphone apps and writing business plans and working with people and accounting and strategy than I ever knew was possible. I have overcome hard things and am better off for it. 

Questions at the Cross

Yesterday in Integrated Theology, we were talking about the Contemplative Tradition of the Christian church. Focusing on spending time alone to grow to be more like Christ is one of the things that makes this stream of Christian life so special. The problem is that I stink at it! I'm talking about stinking to the point of frustration. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to be quiet? And when I am, usually the first thing to pop up is either snores or to-do lists. Yet, here we had to sit for 20 minutes in class with Psalm 22 and a little painting of Jesus and contemplate. I could type for another five minutes and explain to you all the reasons why I can't do this kind of thing, why I don't like it, why it's hard for me, why I think other people do it better, why it doesn't feel like I have gotten anywhere or done anything at the end of the time, and...and.... Excuses abound. I was angry and frustrated with having to do this exercise. 

But eventually I chose to do something I do know how to do. I wrote. And in writing I learned something about the picture and the psalm. I slowed myself down enough to study the details in both. Why is everyone turned away from Christ? How does the psalm describe what is physically and spiritually happening to Christ?  

I was still frustrated with myself and even slightly at my professors afterward. But I also had a bit of reflection scribbled down in my notebook. That bit of prose, produced as a coping technique for my frustration, is what I now present to you: 

I remain solemnly wrapped in my robe, my eyes and heart filled with deep sorrow. I stand at the feet of a man in agony and dying. Jesus, my friend and teacher. I cannot even begin to imagine the brutality and pain he endures. I can hardly look at his face because of the pain etched there. His breathing grows heavy, far apart, and weak. He pushes up for a gulp of air, and works his mouth as if he cannot help but cry out the words shoving up from his very soul. “My...God,” he cries. “My...God.” He gasps for air again. “Why...have...you...forsaken me?” he groans. Alone. He is surrounded by people, yet utterly alone. 

 His words pierce my heart like the nails pierce his hands. Out they flow from his mouth, with more power than the blood—the holy, cleansing blood—that flows from his hands, feet, and side. His wounds pour forth blood like water from a spring. He is so thirsty that vinegar looks like a welcome relief from his desert-dry palate. His joints come out of socket. His heart literally ruptures from the strain of death put upon it. The death caused by my sin, MY sin, is killing my Savior before my very eyes. Once more, with final and wrenching breaths He declares, “It...is..fin.ish..ed.” Suddenly the air is still. His agonized lungs falter and halt. His broken body sags from the crude wooden cross.

I begin to wonder, as the soldiers laugh and gamble for my Lord’s clothes, why His Father, who was supposed to be known as Love, let this happen. What good will come from the death of one so amazing, loving, kind, powerful, wise, succinct, inspiring, intense? He is like none I have ever seen. My Jesus did not deserve to die. I am the sinner, the one who should be condemned and dead.

Why God? Why do you not answer Him? Why are you so silent and far away? Why must one so good die so soon? God, you know it has not even been four years I have walked by His side, yet I cannot imagine life any other way. Why must he be taken from us now? There was so much left to do.

Unexpected screams fill the air. People cower in fear as the earth trembles and shakes, as the sky grows dark. Does the earth shut its eyes and weep? Is that which we feel under our feet the trembling sobs of a collective sorrow as old as time? It seems as though even God and the angels hide their eyes from his death.

Why God are you so far away? Why do you hear and not answer our cries?

Lessons I'm Learning: Psalms of Life

The Lesson: My boyfriend (Ryan) and I have been reading through one of the Psalms together each week for the past few months. Every week, a common theme runs through my head—the Psalms are so much like real life!

 We see that David’s life, especially in his mind and spirit, was not an easy one. He has much to say about how his enemies surround him and he feels like God has abandoned him. He was often discouraged. In fact, if David and I were Facebook friends today, he might have had a slew of those posts that I tend to just scroll past and think, Dude, l know your life feels hard and all, but can you stop complaining about it already?  Yet, other times I think I might come across this amazing poem he wrote about how powerful and loving God is, or how beautiful nature is if you just stop and look at it, or about the marvelous phenomena of childbirth. Those days I might stop scrolling for a moment and think, Wow, David. You really get it. Thanks for the moment of inspiration and the encouragement toward worship of God.

Then I think about my own life, my Facebook posts, my text messages, my chats with my mom, and my occasional journal entry. Suddenly, I start to sound a whole lot more like David. I am perfectly capable of complaining, expressing frustration, and walking (or dragging myself) through hard times. Then there are the other days, when I cannot help but just stop and marvel at how amazing God and His creation are, and thank Him for the plans he laid out for my life before time began.

Lament and love. Whining and worship. Sadness and surprise. This is the stuff that real life is made up of.

Reading Psalms has really pushed me in one particular area: coming back to how great God is, and praising Him even when I don’t feel like it. Here’s an example, and then I will explain what I mean:

Psalm 13 (NIV)

For the director of music. A psalm of David.

¹ How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
² How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
    and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
    How long will my enemy triumph over me?

³ Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
⁴ and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
    and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

⁵ But I trust in your unfailing love;
    my heart rejoices in your salvation.
⁶ I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me.

We see that David’s life feels pretty rough at the beginning of this psalm. He’s even accusing God of forgetting him forever. (And FOREVER is a really long time!) In the middle, David asks for an answer, trusting one will come. Finally, he expresses praise and trust in God, looking back to how God has been faithful in the past, and hoping for His faithfulness to hold true once again.

The challenge: I’m challenging myself to pray and think more like David did. Will you join me? Like David, we can tell God just how much life stinks and how much it feels like He’s forgotten us down here on planet earth. But DON’T STOP THERE! Ask God to answer, and praise Him even in the midst of the struggle. Look for His past faithfulness, and ask Him to demonstrate Himself once again in our lives. Ask God to bring Himself glory by working through us. Let’s look past the moment of hardship and trial to the eternally good and great God who promises to never let us out of the palm of His hand. Let’s pray big, bold prayers. Let’s praise God no matter what. You never know what might happen!