Mind Your Mind

Today at work, it was my turn to do the devotion.

It is not my habit to sign up, but someone was covering a college fair for me, so I took his devotion day for him.

It is also my intent to choose a day for devotions in which I am feeling particularly holy.
This is not that week.

It has been nearly 7 days of stress and frustration.
Overlapping travel planning with the final details of student move-in is a lot more work than you might think. There are also people everywhere, and my introverted self is just not used to it.

I could give a series of excuses, but the end of the story is that I'm just being short with people because I feel a little overwhelmed.

Yesterday was really bad.

Work was bad, tried to go to yoga and came across an unexpected face so I left before it started, went to a girls' night with some people I didn't know, then ended up just going out with friends.
There didn't seem to be any sources of relief for anxiety.

So I wake up, right, and I have to come up with something inspiring and holy to say.

First, I checked Oswald Chambers, but that just wasn't really apt, so I glanced through my bookshelf and found Jill Briscoe and a section in one of her devotions entitled "Doing Yesterday".

It fit.

My devotion of the morning, using her words, was about the tendency of ours to replay yesterday over and over and over again, how we could have done different and said different and all the bad things. We avoid God and just try to talk with ourselves, knowing full well we do so just to avoid the words we know are coming to us from God.

It's over.
Move on.

As a writer, I recognize the capacity of one chapter to be six different things depending on perspective. I can change the entire story just by giving it a revision of outlook.

In the same way, each day we are given the opportunity to look back on our words and actions and the words and actions imparted to us. We are given the opportunity to filter them, judge them, color them however we do so choose.

I can look back on yesterday and see the aggravations and set-backs or I can look back on the hidden pieces--like the gem of a student who appeared last-minute and, despite his financial setbacks, is going to make college happen. Or like my sweet housemates who have become to me inseparable friends and confidantes. Or like church friends who seek me out. Or my sweet boyfriend who is willing to be gracious and give me the benefit of the doubt when my hurt communicates messages I don't intend them to mean.

In any situation, there is so much good underlying.

Jill's prayer is for the Lord to help her mind her mind and for the Lord to mind her heart.
It is up to us not to forget and move on or push out of our minds but actively choose to see the world just a little differently and revise our yesterdays just a bit more constructively.

Change what you can change, apologize for any misplaced words or actions, learn what you can, then look forward.

F is for Friendship

For the past few Sunday evenings, I’ve attended Newtonbreda Baptist with my friends. And, afterward, gone out for ice cream before landing back in my living room.

Have I mentioned that I am now the sole Lady of the Manor these days? I’ve got to admit: it feels pretty good.

It also feels good to have friends to host.

Last evening, we sat around chatting and, randomly, one of the guys decided it was a good idea to have a circle of testimonies time (while I pinterested one of the girl’s hair).

It was pretty fitting, since the morning message at Vineyard was about the power of sharing stories. On 

Easter, as they did baptisms, each person had a friend read aloud the baptee’s cliffnotes spiritual journey.

I cried pretty steadily through the whole thing. The power and encouragement which comes from hearing of 

God’s good work is more than emotional walls can withstand.

So we went around the circle and shared our spiritual journey with Jesus.

Stories and handwriting are similar.

I’ve got this handwriting analysis book (no memory of where I got it or why I have it) that I used to use to casually analyse the handwriting of my friends. It’s pretty dead on, surprisingly. Or, rather, not surprisingly. Either way.

It’s part of why I miss letters. 70% of communication is non-verbal. Emails and type face just don’t get across the same kinds of things a pen can.

When people tell their story, the way in which they construct it reveals just as much about them as the content. It also demonstrates their level of comfortability with their cohorts and with themselves.

What do they include? Are they jittery when they speak? Eye contact? Tone? Do they even share at all?

For an hour or so, I got to hear the honest hearts of my friends as they told of heartbreaks and inconsistencies and screwups and the desperate knowledge of their need for Jesus. It amazed me yet again of how different we, as humans, all are. And at the same time, how very similarly we fall apart.The circumstances may all be different (or eerily similar), but all people hurt the same. We're pretty fragile things. 

Every day here I all more in love with Jesus and this country and these friendships.

And there’s a part of me that wonders how and why I didn’t have these people 8 months ago when I was so desperate for them. At the same time, I maintain that I would have been incapable of engaging in their friendship. Emotionally unavailable, as someone once told me.

Day by day, I come more alive and my spirit more free. There’s still that voice and my calendar which remind me of the tick tick ticking of my countdown here, but I refuse to live inhibited by the fear of that. I serve a God of anomalies and impossible things. What I have right now is what I thought was an impossible thing. I’m gonna revel in it.

Ain’t that good? Isn’t he just so good?

Vim: Flipping Christians

Do I believe in the possibility of instantaneous change?

Do I believe in change at all?

Sure, it's possible for me to change, and sure it can happen for people in the Bible, but now? In others? It just isn't rational or sensical to think so.

We make people serve some sort of trial period before we are willing to believe that what they claim as change is true, has really taken hold, not just a phase or passing fancy.

In treating them and speaking to them as the "old self," though, are we not perpetuating old thoughts and behaviors from no-longer-applicable identities and, in so doing, pouring acid rain on the seeds of their new life?

And all this, in the name of wisdom and the "test of time."

What would happen if we acted out in faith and chose to join with them in speaking character revolution into existence and allowing ourselves to foster the steps (both backwards and forwards) of its growth? What would happen if we delighted with them?

Saul, though he tortured countless Christians and lived his ugly life just stuffed full with sin, turned completely around and faced up to it when God dropped the scales from his eyes.

That was his moment.
And it stuck.

3 years ago February, a heartbroken, skinny, mind-tortured anorexic girl looked in the mirror in the English Department hallway bathroom at John Brown University and finally saw a sliver of what Jesus saw in her.

Seven years of eating disorder exoskeleton fell to the floor and she walked out free.

That was my moment.
And it stuck.

When Jesus sparkles through that crack in the door for the first time, everything changes, and it is not one single person's place to doubt the credibility of that experience.

Even if "time tells" that your change isn't for always, it doesn't alter the possibility that it could have been.

I ran into a very sweet older lady from my church community group this morning who saw me at my very worst--the end of last semester: broken, shaking, vampire pale, sleepless, and thin.

Today, she greeted me by taking hold of my arms and shaking my whole body: "You've come back to use alive! Alive! Full of vim!"

It was very Irish.

It's true. I have come back to life. I doubted and struggled all last semester and most days I was back in The States, to the very week of my departure back here, but every day of February I seemed to resurrect more and more, if progressive resurrection is possible.

When she said that, though, even if it hadn't been the case, I think I would have believed her and been given the stamina to keep on fighting for my life and seeking joy.

Oh lovers of pathos, can you not hear God's heart for his people?
Oh lovers of logos, can you not hear the empirical evidence?

The Lord seeks to ransom his people in full.
It has happened and will happen again!

Positive personality flips are part of our Christian history and our Christian present.

Why then can we not widen our minds enough to see Jesus shake up our brothers and sisters in Christ?

Why cannot we call out and CHOOSE to have faith in that glimpse of vim, of electric Jesus energy in their eyes and voices?

We serve a seemingly nonsensical Father.
One for whom I choose to expect nothing and risk everything in order to trust in his unreasonable works simply because he loves us and delights in twist, shocker endings.

The God who moves mountains deals also in hearts.
Close-mindedness is safe; faith is infinite.

Hold Up, Wait a Minute; Put a Little Love in It

Missed last evening's post because I was pleasantly detailed by excellent banter. I'm sure you understand.

Well, I see fit to fill you in on the true highlights of the past three days. 

Friday and Saturday, I reached the end. Not like I was on suicide watch or anything (I hope), and I'm not entirely certain what I even mean consequence wise. The best way I can explain is there wasn't a single area of figurative skin left that wasn't bruised to the bone. 

And then, things changed. 

My first stop was the French Village where my friend Lynsey works. 

Lucky for me, the place was about empty. She took one look at me, assessed my emotional state, hugged me, and gave me a cupcake. And I said my friends here don't get me...

Next stop was home. Elaine had some missionary friends over. I had been pretty heavily rained on, so I ignored them to go dry off when I got home, but when I came out, it was to the most delightful family. They were so bubbly and welcoming and warm and just easy to be around. I weirdly felt as though I were the guest. [Elaine I think had forewarned them about me...Don't you love when you're the worrisome child?] 

While I was hiding in my room, I was looking at flight changes. Not encouraging. The prices for every single way out of here were unbelievably high. Then, I clicked on Tuesday. Tuesday, my friends, was fractional. Miracle miracle miracle and mercy. 

Cue explosive weeping. 

Then I went out and, like I said, bonded with the family. That, and danced about like a freaking fool. I don't think I've ever felt such a pure form of gratefulness and joy. 

While Sunday afternoon Christmas shopping:

 I knew I liked rugby...

Sunday night was "Carols and Candles." 

I was late. Very. ha. It was dark and cold and wet outside, and I wasn't doing so well on the self-persuasion that being on time was all that important. Besides, I was sitting next to a heater and enjoying a conversation and contextual beverage. 

Received call: 

"Ruth? Where are you?" 

"...home...I'm leaving now, though!" 

"No you aren't. Stay. I'll be there in two." 

Two minute later, a car containing Lauren, Lynsey, Lauren's Mark, and Kiera as driver. Thought for a moment they'd been on their way into town. Nope! They just all wanted to come along to fetch me. 

Candles and carols was lovely. Candlelit (duh...) with mulled juice and whole families and hymns and stories of struggle and grace. Jesus is very present in Belfast City Vineyard, let me tell you. 

Had to leave a bit early to make sure I was actually at my home when Naomi showed up, so I scampered out, only to receive a text within moments from Megan (last week's friend from after lifegroup) asking if I were okay. I hadn't even seen her at the service. Little things, my friends. 

Ran into the driveway as Naomi and Craig (the boyfriend? or boy friend?) pulled in. 

Despicable Me 2 was in store for us at her home, surrounded by her housemates Josh and Allen. I don't know if it was because I was seeing the world with rosy glasses or so encouraged by my unexpected liberty that I was silly and myself. Also, that movie is hilarious. 

Today was class: I finally figured out how to work the wifi network of Queen's (4 months later...), so I spent it phone out and taking creeper shots of my classmates to keep me awake. I've been time-zoning myself, so the sleep thing has been very off. 

Meet Eamonn! 

Paddy. (Eyes match that shirt)

Philip, Amy, and Emma. They did a really nice job of making this picture look staged.

 Amy and Johanna.

Tonight was the last lifegroup of the semester. I've never actually enjoyed small groups of any kind, but I can't imagine my life here without my NewComers' LifeGroup. It's the highlight of my every week.

Tonight, as our wee ice breaker, we were asked to reintroduce ourselves (everyone chimes your name back like an AA meeting) and tell about our most favorite anticipated Christmas gift.

Then it was my turn. My answer was home. I have spent the past three and a half months answering the question: "Are you going home for Christmas or what are you doing?" with an out of nowhere choked throat. My family drives me up the attic insane. But they're my family. And I've never wanted them more. This Christmas, I get the gift of going home and into the arms of people that truly and unconditionally love me.

Touchdown Turnaround

Today's morning could be described best by one of my favorite lines of poetry: "I wake to sleep and take my waking slow." However, the rest of the day was characterized by a different line from that same poem: "I learn by going where I have to go."

Despite the three alarms I set for myself and the fact that I was actually outside my bed on three different occasions, I did not make it awake and alive until nearly 11. Shoot. All those big plans of research and productivity went as dim as the pathetic attempt at daylight outside.

However, by noon, I was washed up and out the door with a chunk of banana bread in my hand and a Translink journey router on my phone.

DRUMROLL PLEASE

I had to take a bus and a connector and go to a different side of town and I DID NOT GET LOST. I did make friends with two bus drivers and a handful of strangers, though.

My destination was in East Belfast, across the river. I've talked about the danger of East Belfast before, but perhaps I should explain better what I mean. They aren't as much dangerous as they are paranoid. East Belfast is mainly Catholic Nationalist populace.

They're angry and bullied. Like the kid who was made fun of and beat up so much as a kid that he eventually goes crazy in a school shooting or ends up as the exec of a major business and wrecks eternal psychological damage on others forever in retribution for his own past.

They were made into who they are. It's actually pretty beautiful, their anger, in a way. The murals, their sheer passion, the fact that what they're fighting for (brutally) is a united Ireland; it's admirable.

I wasn't there for anthropology, though, I was there to help in the Vineyard church office stuffing newcomer packets.

After a few hours of my methodical, independent task (I truly love methodical, independent tasks), I took the bus and my connection back, got off at Queen's, and read another chunk of my homework.

The book I need, Stepping Stones, is only in the special collections room. I had the brilliant realization that I don't actually need to buy my school books. I get them all from the library. Then, if I really like it or need it for research, I buy it online off the American Amazon, and have it shipped to my home in Oklahoma. That way I won't have 40 pounds of books when I travel back.

Merry  Christmas from Queen's!

Rushed home, made myself a bowl of soup and another yummy quesadilla, and then went for coffee with a lovely woman from my church named Lynne. She's one of those ladies that the word "dazzling" fits well.

She's got this wee blonde pixie cut, bright white teeth (a real anomaly here), and a sparkly little personality and person. Her whole self just glitters. You want to be around her.

So she asked me out to coffee. We had a very nice talk. Not so surfacey that I wanted to claw my eyes out with small talk fever and not so depthy that I felt as though I was prostituting my personal stories for the sake of conversation. A winner of a coffee date, I'd say.

Lynne also gave me this!

 

Holiday ice trays! The snarky packaging could not have been more dead on. I really have been craving ice. I think  I've had it all of once since moving here. They just don't do ice. Her husband got them random free from his company, and she thought I'd find it funny. Didn't expect me to be so exuberant. Like the year my grandma ree gave me a sham wow for Christmas. Man, aside from the forever lazy she gave me last year, that sham wow was the best gift. Practical but whimsical. 

Last but not least, I made an important life change today. 

Those, ladies and gentlemen, are burn-on bracelets. 

Not just any burn-on bracelets. 

Bracelets I've been wearing for 8 years. 

My wrist is actually slightly bent in from how long I've worn them. The time-worn tan line that's left behind is actually a little embarrassing now that I've cut them and stopped wearing a watch. 

The purple one is my Staff bracelet from New Life Ranch, and the blue and green one is from my first year at NLR as a Nehemiah. Nehi was the year I met Kira (my best friend from day one) and, in many ways, the year that I really took ownership of my walk with Jesus. 

NLR's motto verse is 2 Corinthians 5:17: "Behold! I am a new creation! The old has gone; the new has come!" 

I wore them for so long (except for the exceptionally dramatic time when they were forcibly cut from my wrists at a swim meet and I openly wept. and later burned them back on) not just because I loved my memories of camp and meeting Kira, but they were a daily reminder of the moment my life really started to change, that I was the start of a new creation. I didn't think I'd ever take them off. 

Not quite sure why today was the day, but it finally seemed like the right time. I am thankful that God used camp and Kira to shift my life toward him, but I am no longer that girl anymore. I no longer identify with who I was then, but she's been stuck to me for so long. She was absolutely wretched in so many ways and she's who the devil forces me to remember, claim, and be burdened with when I struggle, that I'll never succeed or be forgiven or whatever it is because I am ____, _____, and ____ and always will be. That is not the truth. 

I started the change as a Nehi, but I needed the daily reminder because I didn't get better for a very long time. I'll always be journeying, but that person I was in high school especially and the strands of her that survived through college was a miserable and mean creature. She needed to be cut off. Literally. 

So now I lay her down to sleep and free myself from her. 

I am not who I was. By the grace of God, I am what I am, and, by the grace of God, I am not finished yet either. 

I wake to sleep and take my waking slow. I learn by going where I have to go. 

Give me this day, my banana bread.

It's kind a fad among Christian young adult women to use the phrase, "I think I'm just supposed to be single right now. You know, focus on my relationship with God and all."

Probably at the root of that statement, they know it's the truth of what they need to be doing. Like, ya know, figure out who the heck they are outside of their definition and value found in a man. However, and guys listen to me on this, she is trying to find a way to let you down easy.

More than likely, her little self-vow will last just as long as it takes for somebody super hott and perfect-seeming comes along and shows her a little interest. Then it's all, "Oh my gosh, I'm so glad I was single for those 89 hours. God like totally prepared my heart for so and so!"

It's a typical Christian girl move.

I'm a little different. Go figure.

I don't think I've ever used that phrase. I have no problem owning the value of being single or being assertive when I just don't want to go out with you. There's no need for me to use God as a cover-up.

However, I will now use a phrase very close to that line. I don't think it's all that important for me to be single as much as I recognize the value and necessity of me being alone.

I found myself praying a couple weeks ago not that God would "use" me, but that he would occupy me. It's funny because that would be so completely the opposite of the point.

Regina Spektor (one of my absolute favorite music artists. such good Trifecta memories) has this fabulous line (all her lines are fabulous) that says, "your ears in your headphones to drown out your mind."

I have literally had my ears in headphones since I was an early teenager. I'd stick them in the moment I got in the car (with my sweet Walkman), so I didn't have to engage in the car chatter around me. I have them in when I study, when I drive, when I'm baking, when I'm getting ready in the morning (necessity. you can't toothbrush dance without a good jam), on the bus, walking to the bus, in the shower, all the time.

I listen to music or I'm on social media or I'm with friends or I've busied myself with meetings or classes.

And now, it's just me. With the music off and the friends far away and the boyfriend gone and the family far away too and my old life, which I really really liked, is gone.

The old self, however wonderful or terrible she was, is gone.

I don't know how I'd respond if someone were to ask me what I'm learning. I don't necessarily feel like I'm learning. I'm not even sure how I'm different. I just am. There are small, surface-level things that are changing, but they're just indicative of something more. I'm just not entirely certain what that something more is.

Who am I going to come home as? What am I going to come home to? Or what am I going to come home to do?

Those answers, I suppose, will show themselves in time. For now, I am choosing to learn something: to accept that feeling known by The Lord is enough.

That aspect has been the most difficult for me. I miss feeling known. I've made some lovely friends here, both from the JBU team and around Belfast, but they don't know me.

Skype and texting and letters are great, and I am so thankful for the way they've been able to help keep me in contact with my loved ones for the most part, but just being in the presence of someone who knows me, who I don't have to explain myself to...that cannot be replaced by a screen.

There doesn't even need to be talking or hugging (hugging would be really nice, though), but just to be in one another's presence. Immeasurable worth.

So there's one thing I've learned, and one thing I'm passing on to you.
-Take out the earbuds.
-Shut up with those petty angers and remarks. Patrick Kavanagh once said, "When we--or I at any rate--speak impromptuously, we tend to speak on the surface, expressing surface irritations of the moment. Out of repose the truth speaks." Amen, brother.
-If the only thing between the two of you (or between you and however many people you're pissed at) is your own pride, let it go. Your bitterness will only hurt you, and you're keeping yourself from so much love.
-Be present. So present. Don't check your watch. Don't check your emails or texts. They can wait. The person you're with is of infinitely more importance.

I have learned that spending time in any capacity with a person who gets you is the greatest gift you could ever be given.

God is teaching me to allow that person to be him, even if I can't see him or be with him like a best friend. He is my daily bread.

But if I get hungry...

Mama's banana bread recipe. :)
Like the awkwardly long pan? Me too. Sure beats mussing two different bread pans.

Also, Belfast moment here:

I call it, "Parallel parking is for weanies."

And with that, goodnight Belfast.

Games

Abbi and Shelby leave us two days from now, so our little friend group (minus lauren) went out for a girls' night on the town! (and finally snapped a picture with Kiera!)

Stop one was Benedict's for dinner. They have a super cool deal there where meal prices change depending on the time you get there. So if you order at 5:45, your meal is 5.45. It makes dinner like a game. Also, it's delicious.

From there, we went on to Cuckoo's pub. It was loud with this terrible alt music, but that added to its charm. We played make it or break it, would you rather, and gave each other dares like ten year olds.

My two dares were to get up and dance by myself for a full minute (this was not an empty pub) and to tell the bar tender that I fancied his ponytail. The second led to a nice wee talk with him about hair care and just how hard it is to make a good messy bun these days. He seemed genuinely pleased that someone appreciated his hair artistry. ha!

We rounded out our evening of games with speed charades. There's this app that is a combination of catchphrase and charades, and you put your phone on your forehead, it flashes a word, and your friends act it out while you guess. The cultural struggle was real. Pop culture (any culture) references went way past our heads or their heads without much overlap in knowledge. It was hilarious.

We chose hot drinks instead of cold and I was reminded of a game night with my family playing Things. The category was "things that make me feel stupid." Chon wrote "Ordering at coldstone." Coldstone Creamery is a posh ice cream shop in Tulsa whose sizes are "Like it," "Love it," and "Gotta have it."

My drink was called, "Apple pie or die." He couldn't understand my accent, so I had to say it twice, and I felt so stupid. It did not taste like apple pie, but it was warm. :) In Ireland, many times that's all you really wish to for.

Poppin' Lewis

Yesterday, we attended church at St. Mark's. Usually, I don't attend with the students and go to Vineyard, but we we went to St. Mark's because it was Remembrance Day.

Remembrance Day is similar to Veteran's Day except, and this is maybe due to the size of NI, but everyone gets involved, not just certain families. I don't know. It felt much more widespread and made a big deal of. 

Everyone wears a poppy. 

Feel free to ignore the fact that my skin is so white it glows in sunshine. Focus on the poppy. 

Women wear it on the right; men on the left. The leaf sits at 2 o clock.  Poppies are the symbols of Flander's Field. 

During the service (which was Church of Ireland or Anglican), there was a ceremony. 

First, a robed figure walked down the aisle with "the book" (not the Bible). 

Then, two veterans representing WWI co-carried a poppy wreath to the front. Following them were two vets representing WWII carrying another poppy wreath. 

The wreaths were laid at the altar and the carriers stepped to the side. 

Then, "the book" was opened, and the name of every soldier who died in each war from that particular parish was read aloud in memory. 

When the names were all read, there were bagpipes and bugles followed by a time of silence and prayer. 

It was all very moving. 

Construction, but this is the church. Yes, I took it from the bus. Don't judge. 

This is not a church. This is Little Lee. Did I not mention that St. Mark's was the homechurch of C.S. Lewis? Oops. Well. You know now. And Little Lee, pictured here, was his childhood home. His birthhome no longer exists. Just after Little Lee was purchased by a non-Lewis some years back, it was vandalized. Because of that, the owner is a wee sensitive about trespassers. You may see the house, but you may see it from outside the gate alone. 

What a Soaking Web We Weave

It started out as a beautiful morning here in Belfast City. So beautiful, in fact, that when the three staffers set out for church, they were donned in dresses and left their coats at home.

The walk to church is a lovely downhill .6 miles. 

When we got to church, however, the gate was locked and there was a car with two men out front. We'd already had a very confusing time change struggle that morning, so we thought it was a possibility we'd completely missed church. 

Nope! Apparently, church was relocated due to electrical work on the school it's held in. They told us to hop in. Not knowing what to do, we stared at one another thinking, "Who are these men? Are we going to be taken? Where exactly is church?" 

Sensing our trepidation, one of the men turned a large sign toward us, informing us of the venue change. So, we hopped in and they took us the distance they claimed was a 10 minute walk. It was NOT a ten minute walk. 

During church, it began to rain. 

We decided against waiting it out because of yesterday's downpour. 

And that, is when we began our journey. 4 miles, uphill, in the rain, with broken umbrellas. 

It could have been disasterous, but we spent most of it laughing at how absolutely ridiculous it all was. That, and I started narrarating (in a strong German accent) our walk as though we were filming a  survival documentary. 

A mere hundred or so yards away from our home, we got stopped and laughed at by some locals for our attire and general state of bedraggle. 

We made it home an hour after our start time, drenched but happy and very ready for tea. 

Storehouse Citings

Storehouse:
A huge part of my church is a ministry or, rather, ministry chain, called Storehouse. Everything from food to clothing to debt management to job hunting strategies to Friday church to New Christian small group. Everything. And I'm sure there's stuff in there I don't know about yet either. Either way, the whole network is incredible and it's picking up steam around the city. Where at one point they used to have to call up churches and businesses to try to find partners, they now receive those phone calls.

Well, last night, Shelby and I went to the "family meeting." All the different branches come together at the City Centre Storehouse building to share stories, drink tea, pray, and worship with one another.
It was also an opportunity to listen to Pastor Alan's heart and perspective on the ministry.

A few quoteables/paraphraseables:
"Our ministry is less about the alleviation of poverty and more about the restoration of dignity. I don't want to lead something that's functional. I want to lead something that celebrates others."-Pastor Alan

The team believes in honoring one another. Honoring under the definition of, "treating someone as specially uncommon. Finding their uniqueness and calling it out."

The ministry, while Christian, isn't out to make new Christians. It's not a "pound for a prayer" kind of deal. Instead, they seek ways to build relationships, hoping that in those interactions, those who come will see Jesus in the ministry workers and want in on the secret.

Pastor Alan: "Jesus didn't call us to pray a prayer. He called us to make disciples."
And, shortly after stating that, Alan continued with a thought I've been munching on. He reminded us that even though he's been a Christian for 25 years, he still screws up. But we forgive him. We give him grace. Because being human and being Christian is hard. However, when we see a new Christian back at the bar or back in their respective sin, we're discouraged; we're disappointed.

Why?! "If after 25 years, I'm still not getting it right, how do we expect new Christians to have broken countless years of sin habitudes overnight?"

We can't, is the answer. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try to hold one another accountable, but that does mean, in the words of Tom Harrison--Pastor of Asbury United Methodist--that we should rather "lower our expectations and raise our commitment."

//

Meanwhile, in Research Methods...citations.
No, not the naughty kind that I could get a good story from or have to pay a ticket for. Internal citations and work cited pages.
Today, the English and Languages MAs had a little get together over a heart-warming powerpoint and three hours worth of manual citations. We paired off into groups (have I mentioned lately my sentiments toward the words "break off into groups"?), were given sheets of paper with information, and set free to cite, cite, cite! On foreign keyboards that type "/e" every time you want to have "E" and where the heck are the quotation marks?!
My partner? Could smell my American-ness from a mile off and claimed to be from "Michigan." I honestly thought she was joking and told her so by way of accent evidence (I'm actually getting pretty good at accent naming). I could focus on nothing else until she said the words "Russian boyfriend" about an hour in. Zingo.
They did, however, give us coffee and biscuits. It's hard to hold a grudge against someone handing you a cookie. Or three.

Sometimes lowering my expectations has to extend to my academic life.
I raised my commitment (to WB Yeats and Flann O'Brien) here today:

The McClay Library. Second floor. Shelf PR 8899.O and I are becoming quite close. 

Chips, Chinese, and Church People

After much deliberation and much persuasion by my church (which I do consider my home church here), I attended The Newcomers' Dinner.

By an equal amount of persuasion, I got the two cooks to join me, and together we ventured through city centre to locate Storehouse, the venue for the evening.

Allow me to say, attending tonight may be the most positive choice I've made since showing up here in Belfast. You're thrown in a smaller room, given food (yummy Chinese food and, naturally, chips (french fries)), and sitting among a bunch of other people who are just like you: newcomers to the church in search of friendship and community and Jesus.

While there, the head pastor's wife, Harmony, and I chatted for a long while. Not only was she kind (a very admirable quality but a wee stifling if not attended with a dose of sass), she was fun. She is the kind of lady that genuinely comes off as wanting to take care of and get to know you. In the first few questions, she asked me why I was here, how long I was staying, and if I'm headed home for Christmas. Queen's, a year, and no.

Immediately, and without any sort of entreaty on my side, she responded to my no with, "You'll not be alone on Christmas, don't you worry. We'll all take care of you. If not with us, someone in the church will want you with them." Even if I make school friends or Belfast friends who adopt me for the holidays, the gesture was enough to make me want to cry.

The rest of the evening, we listened to Harmony and Andy share the vision of the church and a bit of their own spiritual journeys. The most memorable bit to me was that they explained how very non-competitive Vineyard Church is. "We're not the only church in Belfast. Vineyard may not be for you. If it's not, let us help you find a church body." I think that's beautiful. There's no begrudging of "sheep stealing," it's a recognition that everyone's spiritual life and church background is different and that's okay.

Finally, I made friends. Like, friends I could actually see myself hanging out with in real life. In fact, I decided to join a community group that meets on Mondays in lieu of taking a french class. And, I made arrangements with a couple of the girls to carpool there.

This feels right and good. Engaging--not just observing--the body of Christ tonight gave me energy and filled me up. It's very easy for me here, with my slobbery amount of time and lack of real relationships, to start feeding myself negative self-narratives, and those are straight up from the devil. Digging in is awkward and uncomfortable and totally outside my comfort zone, but I think that's kind of how I know it's the right thing to do. Step one in the right direction.

The Spirit of Newness

Welcome to Belfast City Vineyard church, a lovely place for Jesus worshipers conveniently located a mere .6 miles away from my front door.

I've been plotting attendance at this church since I visited last summer. I don't know what denomination to call it, since it doesn't seem to fit with any I know. It's got worship like JBU, sermon style like First Presbyterian, and the presence of the Holy Spirit like Woodlake Assembly. Except also not.

I have found that in the States, there are many kind of churches, but there seem, to me, to be two distinct groups: those who emphasize the Holy Spirit and those who don't. It's perhaps because I grew up very, very charismatic that I notice the difference so strongly, but it's true.

Either the church is ALL about the power and gifts of the Holy Spirit (healing, tongues, etc) or they attempt, in a holy manner, to pretend as though he doesn't exist. Either way, I've only experienced the trinity extremely out of whack.

This church (judgement based off more than just today) is different. They seem to me to have been mentally blank slated and straight read through the New Testament and decided to live and believe accordingly. The church doesn't push the Spirit, try to convince people of His power, or try to hide it, it's just straightforward about His existence. It's very refreshing.

Additionally, since I do not have independent transportation for the first time since I turned 16, I walk to church. Good Jesus time, I tell ya what.

So, after not attending church for an entire summer, I am now reengaging. It's super awkward, I am unbelievably shy (did not talk to a single person aside from my one chat with "Kathy" during mingle time. Hate mingle time.), and breaking into a new community will be hard by myself, but I've a feeling that such experiences will occur with some frequence in my near future.