Table of help

A conference table sits in the center of our one-room office here in Birmingham. In its heyday, the table was a deep chocolate brown color; now it has more than its share of caramel-colored scratches. The octagonal table (whose sturdy legs have a knack for collecting dust bunnies) is broad enough to hold the sprawl of a region's worth of sitebook binders, big enough to invite all six of us to gather 'round (on the rare occasion that all six are here), and strong enough to hold up innumerable prayers. Throughout the school-year, this was where we came to pray - sometimes daily, sometimes weekly, always with hearts humbled by a gracious God who allows conversation with himself to be a significant part of our workday.

Now that summer is here, the old church building that houses our office takes on a different look. While I am in town, I am sleeping here, showering here, eating my meals here. Every nook and cranny of this building is open to me now, yet when we take time for devotions each morning, it is to the old faithful office conference table that I am drawn.

This table has been an altar at which we've offered so many prayers throughout my time in this office. We have prayed for professional things - the hiring of staff, housing in our communities, opportunities to serve these communities well - and personal things - broken relationships, the needs of our families far away, friends whose mid-day calls make us stop in our workday tracks and cry out to God.

And the people of Israel said to Samuel, "Do not cease to cry out to the LORD our God for us, that he may save us from the hand of the Philistines." And Samuel cried out to the LORD for Israel...

Today, I sit at this table in awe of the way that God has answered these prayers. I picture the sixteen staff whose names, faces, and stories are on my mind today. I think of the churches and schools they are beginning to turn into their summer homes. My mind wanders to the friends they are meeting in their communities, whom we have lifted up in prayer in times of hurricane, financial need and poor health. I envision the churches who will soon be arriving at these YouthWorks sites, and am reminded that each of them is an answer to prayer. All year long, we have prayed; all year long, God has been preparing, orchestrating, responding, teaching us to hang on to him for dear life and trust him to provide.

... and the LORD answered him... Then Samuel took a stone and set it [there] and called its name Ebenezer [stone of help], for he said, "Till now the LORD has helped us." I Samuel 7:8,9,12

Till now the Lord has helped us. Sitting at this table I call Ebenezer, I am convinced that he will continue to do so, for his glory.

Here I raise my Ebenezer
Hither by thy help I'm come
And I hope by thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
(from "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing")

Here's to a new summer

This past week was one that I had been anticipating and working towards since last August: training our YouthWorks summer staff and finally sending them out into their communities. It was with great joy and excitement that I met each one of my sixteen staff, knowing that they are on the brink of something great: a ten-week encounter with God unlike anything they've ever experienced before. What a humbling privilege it is to be called to teach and lead this diverse group of individuals, in whom I see pieces of the magnificent collage that is the image of God.

As we went through our training week, sent our staff on their way yesterday, and as I've tried to get back into summer Area Director mode over the past 24 hours, I have been nagged by a constant desire to check myself against last summer. How were my staff feeling last summer at this time? Have I connected with this new staff as well as I did with the previous one? Did I tell these staff all of the same things I told last year's? What was I thinking and feeling and doing last year at this time? I had a phenomenal (sorry for the YW buzzword) experience last summer, so if I am using that as a standard, I've raised the bar pretty high. But I find myself frustrated by these questions and comparisons, not only because I find myself lacking answers, but also because I start to wonder if I am comparing snickerdoodles to brownies.

This is a new summer. Of the sixteen people in my area, fifteen are almost completely new to me and one is an alumni of last summer's area who has grown and experienced much since last year. I have two communities in my area unlike any I've served with YouthWorks in the past. And I myself have changed in the nine months since I said goodbye to the summer of 2005. How could I possibly try to fit this summer into the nebulous - yet precious - mold of last summer?

I cannot. I should not.

... Neither is new wine put into old wineskins. If it is, the skins burst and the wine is spilled and the skins are destroyed. But new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved. - Jesus Christ, Matthew 9:17

It strikes me that the preservation of the wine is as important as the preservation of the wineskins. Not only does Jesus offer this admonition to protect the new, but also to preserve the old. The old is not damaged until you try to put the new into it.

Lord, grant me creativity and wisdom so that I may lay aside last summer's wineskins and welcome in the fresh new wine of these four new staff teams. Allow me to celebrate - but not dwell on - the lingering sweet taste of last summer's wine. At the same time, help me to savor the complex taste of this 2006 vintage. May all of this work together to help me see and glorify your goodness.

Book Report #1* and SWF

I'm reading a book entitled Revelations of a Single Woman by Connally Gilliam. I'm normally quite wary of books on the subject matter of single women - I have found too many that are fluffy and empty, in which the author portrays herself and her readers as ditzy, boy-crazy, and shallow. Though Gilliam lacks the tempered wisdom of Elisabeth Elliot and makes a few too many references to sitting around talking over cups of coffee, her work provides a refreshing, even challenging take on the single life of a Christian woman living in today's culture.

One chapter of the book is devoted to female friendships. This caught me by surprise - given what I knew of the book, and judging by other books I've read or browsed in this genre, I figured every chapter would somehow revolve around the opposite sex. But, reading her chapter on both the joys and challenges of female friendships in general, and friendships among single females in particular, brought me to my own revelation: being single is about more than being unattached. The single life consists of more than the pursuit of eventually not being single. The state of singleness can not be compartmentalized - one does not stop being single when one is alone, with family members, with friends of the same gender, or with non-eligible members of the opposite gender. Singleness touches every aspect of one's life and relationships and influences the needs and expectations of those relationships. That is neither bad nor good; it just is.

Beyond all of that, I have found in Gilliam's words a mirror for my own life. As she writes about guys, girlfriends, family, work and dreams I find myself agreeing with her wholeheartedly, sometimes wondering how snuck in to my mind without me noticing. That makes me wonder how many other women in this position have the same questions and fears floating around in their heads. Questions of when and why, worries about whom and how and what to do with the waiting time remain unarticulated in order to maintain an appearance of calm, cool confidence, or to avoid becoming a pariah - "Surely I'm the only one who doesn't have this figured out. What would they think if they knew?" Even as I write now, I hesitate to delve into the topic (and don't plan to delve much further in this venue); singleness, to me, is inherently linked to vulnerability, and I just can't go there in cyberspace.

Where I can go is to the One who is strongest when I am most vulnerable. He is the one who will meet every need perfectly, fulfill every hope beyond my wildest dreams, and sustain me in this dry and weary land. He is the one with the answer to every question: "Make Me your first priority, and I will take care of the rest." He is the one with the plan and purpose for each and every day of my life, single or otherwise.

I write this with the desire to broaden my view of the season I find myself in right now, with the conviction that I need to do some re-orienting to make sure that He is the center of my universe, and with the hope that God will enable me to be a good steward of this gift of singleness - in all aspects of my life.

* I have no current plans for future book reports - but maybe this will be the start of something.

Finishing

They say it ain't over til the fat lady sings. In this case, I'm thinner than I've been in years, and I'm typing rather than singing, but it seems my half-marathon experience won't be over til I write about it.

A couple of months ago, when two of my co-workers and good friends suggested that I join them in training for a half-marathon, I laughed, and shot them down swiftly with the words "that's a ludicrous idea." I was not a runner - I was barely even in shape. The very thought of running filled me with dread and brought back memories of being forced to run the infamous MILE in elementary school. How on earth could I even consider running 13.1? But then, the more I told myself that I was not a runner, the more a little voice in my head started asking, "Why not?" Finding no good answer, I decided to lace up my shoes and give it a shot. I did a few laps around the track at the gym, and it didn't kill me. That night, I decided I would train.

And train I did. For eight weeks, I ran five days a week, rolling out of bed early, putting in more and more miles each Saturday, running in Alabama heat and Minnesota cold. Then, on the morning of April 29, I joined 22,000 other runners and walkers on the streets of Nashville for what I will look back on as one of the most fun and memorable experiences of my twenty-four years. Bands played, people cheered, little kids awaited high-fives along the route as each of us pushed ourselves, each step taking us closer to the exact same finish line, but each step taken for so many different reasons.

For me, each step was a celebration. I celebrated making it to race day. I celebrated the discipline I had mustered - solely by the grace of God - that brought me to that point. I celebrated the health of my body, and the fact that I had the means and capabilities to run in such a race. I celebrated the excitement of uncharted territory. I celebrated the freedom that came with refusing to listen to the experiences of my past, telling me what I am not and what I cannot do. My last few steps over the finish line were a proclamation: "I can! I will! I DID!"

DID has never been such a powerful word. Looking back on what I did - diligently sticking to my training program, going farther and harder than I ever imagined possible, and finishing what I set out to do - makes looking ahead to what I could do so enticing. There is now no denying that I am capable of being, doing, and achieving more than I tend to think that I can. Praise the Lord for revealing that to me through this process. I hope that the next time another "ludicrous idea" comes my way, I'll once again be willing to lace up my shoes and take that first crazy step.