I was thinking about age today, and about riding the bus, and a question came to my mind that is not too relavent to me yet, but will be one day.
At what point does getting up and offering your seat to someone else on the bus become unnecessary? Or does it ever? Or is there a heirarchy? Like men get up for women; young women for older women; young women for (much) older men; everyone for pregnant women?
Just wondering.
August 08, 2008
July 04, 2008
June 21, 2008
Worship, Bronx style
June 14, 2008
Prom on a boat
June 12, 2008
June 11, 2008
June 05, 2008
Late night in the Bronx
I just want to let all my friends out there know that I love them. And by the way, I have a new phone/smartphone and a new phone number. I'll still have my old number for a month or so, so you can get in touch with me that way...or here...or by any number of ways that are now available.
May 21, 2006
Hip fellows
Two weekends ago, (I promise after this, I'm caught up!) I went to Schneeberg with the Connexxion student ministry from Jena for their spring semester retreat. God really showed me a lot that weekend, and is continuing to show me things as a result of the teaching of John Kelsey (the BSU director for OSU), our speaker for the weekend, and his wife, Jen, who also shared with us, especially with the women. I'll get into that in a minute. First, the fun stuff - and check out Deanna's post for another POV, and some great pics (you might even see me in one or two of them)!
On Saturday evening, we grilled out, Thüringen style! Thüringen men do not use utensils to grill the delicious Thüringen bratwursts. They are just that tough (the men, not the brats). They use their hands. They have a bowl of water that they use to cool off their hands and the bratwursts, and then they just turn them with their hands. It was a sight to see!
After grilling out, we had a talent show hosted by none other than yours truely (for better or worse!). There were some dancing, games, and music . We heard a didgeridoo (sp?), "Angie", a jazzy hymn, and found out who stole the coconuts (this was a song-and-dance - picture a group of people dancing around like monkeys, singing out "Who stole the coconuts?" in German). We found out that you can not buy blue socks on the third floor of the department store, but that electronics move from floor to floor, that telephone-charades are just plain fun, that when they try to make things indeciferable Germans get more educated while Americans get more ghetto (fo' shizzle), and that Chris Tomlin can be played instead of bagpipes for a sword dance ("Your Grace is Enough" - even when you haven't danced in ten years).
I always love getting to spend time with students, and this is a great group. They have great leadership, and it shows. One of my favorite parts of the weekend was small group time. It was a great time to get to know some of them better, to encourage each other, and to learn how to pray for them.
I just want to write about one thing that I really took away with me from the retreat. One of the things that Kels talked about was spiritual disciplines. As a group, we came up with a list of spiritual discipline; Bible reading, scripture memorization and meditation, worship, prayer, tithing, fasting, serving, silence, journaling. And fellowship. Fellowship. I never thought of fellowship as a discipline. I just thought it was a fringe benefit of being in a community of believers. The word "discipline" just doesn't sound fun to me, but fellowship does. So do worship and journaling, and some others, but none come close to fellowship on the fun scale for me. As some of you know, I was pretty homesick during the first few months of my time here in Germany, and I spent a lot of time on the phone with friends and family. Some people, I spoke with more often while I was in Germany than I did when I was in Knoxville, in the same city as them!
For the last few months however, maybe two or three, I haven't been calling home as much. And during that same period of time, I've sort of slid into what one of my friends calls "the funk". Not exactly a valley, but definitely not the mountain top. Not passionate. Maybe lukewarm is the word. And I hated it. But I didn't know what was causing it, and I didn't know how to get out of it. I read the Bible some, but that didn't pull me back up like it usually does. It was like I was in a fog. I had some great times, like in Willingen for WE Gather, but for the most part I was lukewarm, I saw it, I hated it, I prayed about it, but I didn't know what was out of whack. It took someone else pointing it out to me.
Martha Moore, a staff member from Connexxion drove me to the train station after the retreat was over, so that I could head back to Chemnitz, and she was asking me questions about the weekend; what I thought, what I had learned, highlights, that sort of thing. I just told her that I had a really great time being with the students just as I always do, and that I really missed having that kind of group of people to spend time with, and I really missed having those kind of friends in the same city. And she drew my attention to the fact that I am really lacking in fellowship with my peers here in Chemnitz. I hadn't really thought about it before, but she was right. I have my team mates here, but they are all have room mates, are at least twenty years older than me, and are married with children. Not exactly my peers. I realized that I've made myself a "Lone Ranger christian" (although I hate that phrase) - I'm surrounded by lost people, and not getting the support and encouragement that I need to sustain me.
A few years ago, I had heard someone say that if you could draw a graph of your walk with God, and another graph of your friendships/relationships with other people, the two will parallel each other. Well, since I've not been talking with my friends back home so much, things have gone downhill. And I realized that calling home, or blogging, or IMing isn't so much an indulgence for me as it is a survival tool (when used appropriately and in moderation). So I'm trying to get back into the swing of talking with my friends more regularly (man, it's such torture! ), and I think that I see the fog beginning to lift.
On Saturday evening, we grilled out, Thüringen style! Thüringen men do not use utensils to grill the delicious Thüringen bratwursts. They are just that tough (the men, not the brats). They use their hands. They have a bowl of water that they use to cool off their hands and the bratwursts, and then they just turn them with their hands. It was a sight to see!
After grilling out, we had a talent show hosted by none other than yours truely (for better or worse!). There were some dancing, games, and music . We heard a didgeridoo (sp?), "Angie", a jazzy hymn, and found out who stole the coconuts (this was a song-and-dance - picture a group of people dancing around like monkeys, singing out "Who stole the coconuts?" in German). We found out that you can not buy blue socks on the third floor of the department store, but that electronics move from floor to floor, that telephone-charades are just plain fun, that when they try to make things indeciferable Germans get more educated while Americans get more ghetto (fo' shizzle), and that Chris Tomlin can be played instead of bagpipes for a sword dance ("Your Grace is Enough" - even when you haven't danced in ten years).
I always love getting to spend time with students, and this is a great group. They have great leadership, and it shows. One of my favorite parts of the weekend was small group time. It was a great time to get to know some of them better, to encourage each other, and to learn how to pray for them.
I just want to write about one thing that I really took away with me from the retreat. One of the things that Kels talked about was spiritual disciplines. As a group, we came up with a list of spiritual discipline; Bible reading, scripture memorization and meditation, worship, prayer, tithing, fasting, serving, silence, journaling. And fellowship. Fellowship. I never thought of fellowship as a discipline. I just thought it was a fringe benefit of being in a community of believers. The word "discipline" just doesn't sound fun to me, but fellowship does. So do worship and journaling, and some others, but none come close to fellowship on the fun scale for me. As some of you know, I was pretty homesick during the first few months of my time here in Germany, and I spent a lot of time on the phone with friends and family. Some people, I spoke with more often while I was in Germany than I did when I was in Knoxville, in the same city as them!
For the last few months however, maybe two or three, I haven't been calling home as much. And during that same period of time, I've sort of slid into what one of my friends calls "the funk". Not exactly a valley, but definitely not the mountain top. Not passionate. Maybe lukewarm is the word. And I hated it. But I didn't know what was causing it, and I didn't know how to get out of it. I read the Bible some, but that didn't pull me back up like it usually does. It was like I was in a fog. I had some great times, like in Willingen for WE Gather, but for the most part I was lukewarm, I saw it, I hated it, I prayed about it, but I didn't know what was out of whack. It took someone else pointing it out to me.
Martha Moore, a staff member from Connexxion drove me to the train station after the retreat was over, so that I could head back to Chemnitz, and she was asking me questions about the weekend; what I thought, what I had learned, highlights, that sort of thing. I just told her that I had a really great time being with the students just as I always do, and that I really missed having that kind of group of people to spend time with, and I really missed having those kind of friends in the same city. And she drew my attention to the fact that I am really lacking in fellowship with my peers here in Chemnitz. I hadn't really thought about it before, but she was right. I have my team mates here, but they are all have room mates, are at least twenty years older than me, and are married with children. Not exactly my peers. I realized that I've made myself a "Lone Ranger christian" (although I hate that phrase) - I'm surrounded by lost people, and not getting the support and encouragement that I need to sustain me.
A few years ago, I had heard someone say that if you could draw a graph of your walk with God, and another graph of your friendships/relationships with other people, the two will parallel each other. Well, since I've not been talking with my friends back home so much, things have gone downhill. And I realized that calling home, or blogging, or IMing isn't so much an indulgence for me as it is a survival tool (when used appropriately and in moderation). So I'm trying to get back into the swing of talking with my friends more regularly (man, it's such torture! ), and I think that I see the fog beginning to lift.
January 23, 2006
Nine of the J
For those of you just now joining in the fun, or those folks who've been around since the beginning, here are some "Best of's". These reveal a little more about who I am, where I've been, where I am, and what God has brought me through...and there are some fun things thrown in there, too! Just to give you a heads up, these are from my Xanga blog.
1. Cream of the Crop
First Impressions of Chemnitz
Boot Scootin' Germans!
Becoming Like Christ
2. Getting to know me, getting to know all about me
Answering My Own Questions
Top 40 [Blessings] List
5 of My [Many] Idiosyncracies
3. Authoress in the Bud
I'm a Princess (short story)
Ephesians 1
On a Hill
4. God on the Move
Speaking in Jena
November Update
Winter Clothes!
5. Mountain Tops
Freizeit in Friesau
I Turned 4 Years Old Today
I Turned 24 Years Old Today
6. The Valleys in Between
Faith Course
Feeling Lonely
Pre-Birthday Sadness
7. What Was I Thinking?
Acting Like An Apostle
Smile, You're a Christian
Ramdom Rambles
8. Are We Having Fun Yet?! I'm My Own Grandpaw
More Random Rambles
Idioms and Paralanguage (read the comments!)
9. Life as I Know it in Chemnitz
How Not to Get a Christmas Tree
From Saturday to Sunday
Chili and Pumpkins
1. Cream of the Crop
First Impressions of Chemnitz
Boot Scootin' Germans!
Becoming Like Christ
2. Getting to know me, getting to know all about me
Answering My Own Questions
Top 40 [Blessings] List
5 of My [Many] Idiosyncracies
3. Authoress in the Bud
I'm a Princess (short story)
Ephesians 1
On a Hill
4. God on the Move
Speaking in Jena
November Update
Winter Clothes!
5. Mountain Tops
Freizeit in Friesau
I Turned 4 Years Old Today
I Turned 24 Years Old Today
6. The Valleys in Between
Faith Course
Feeling Lonely
Pre-Birthday Sadness
7. What Was I Thinking?
Acting Like An Apostle
Smile, You're a Christian
Ramdom Rambles
8. Are We Having Fun Yet?! I'm My Own Grandpaw
More Random Rambles
Idioms and Paralanguage (read the comments!)
9. Life as I Know it in Chemnitz
How Not to Get a Christmas Tree
From Saturday to Sunday
Chili and Pumpkins
January 22, 2006
Extra Cross
Hello, all!
I'm exhausted, but it's a good exhausted sort of feeling. The speaking went well tonight, I thought. I was maybe a few minutes short (probably 27 or 28 minutes - Deanna told me I could go 30-40), but I think it's better to be a little bit short than long...I've been through long at Extra Cross before, and yeah, short is better than long! I basically just shared my testimony and how I came to the decision to come to Germany for a year. I think my German was pretty good, and I think they understood what I said. I've definitely noticed how much better my German has gotten since moving here. Of the 35 students there, I think that there were several (5 or 6) pre-Christians t
here, so that's good. I had my testimony pretty solidly worked out, and had three note cards with some cryptic notes to help me through it, but I didn't have as much time to prepare the second part. I just had some general notes of things I wanted to touch on - but I wanted to give the Holy Spirit enough leeway to lead the talk. Since Deanna called me last night to ask me to speak, I've been praying that the Holy Spirit would speak through me, and I pray that the students were spoken to.
Anywho, I definitely learned how much more time it takes to prepare a message/speech in a foreign language!!! Wowza! But it was a great experience. And because I knew that I was relying on the Holy Spirit, and not on my own abilities, I wasn't nervous! That is HUGE for me! I (previously) have ALWAYS gotten nervous before speaking before a group, even if I knew them, but I wasn't tonight. Props to the Holy Spirit! He really can give the power of speaking in tongues :)
November 04, 2005
Check out the Xanga!
If you are checking this blog, and don't know about my Xanga, just go to faithful quest. That's where my most recent ramblings can be read.
Cheers!
Jay to the niner, over and out
Cheers!
Jay to the niner, over and out
October 23, 2005
Royalty
I am a beloved daughter of God! How dare the scum of the under-Earth to even talk to a princess, let alone try to mislead her! Oh, the audacity! The palace guard would never even allow him in through the castle gates, let alone into her chambers! My King has a Prince Charming ready for me, and when the time is right – when He deems that it is so – my valiant knight shall come and sweep me off my feet! And the entire kingdom shall rejoice!
But in the meantime, my King is preparing me for Himself. He is teaching me how to behave like royalty; for I used to be a servant. No, I was even lower than that. My ancestors willingly sold our family into slavery to an evil master. But my King, oh, my merciful, loving, generous King – He wanted me for Himself – He wanted me to be part of His kingdom. So He went to my slave master, and enquired as to what the cost would be to free me from my enslavement (although He already knew the cost), for He was saddened by the fact that my ancestors had knowingly and willingly made me a slave, and wanted to free me. My master, cruel and evil though he was, was also one of the King’s subjects, and – especially when face-to-face with his ruler – had to follow the law of the land. The King’s own law – which He must also follow, for He is just, and if He did not obey His own law, He would not be just – said that the only way for a slave to be freed was by death. That was the only way a contract could be fulfilled. Now, my old slave master had many slaves. In fact, the entire kingdom was under his hand, except for the King and His Son, the Prince. All people – who were once free men – became slaves. This happened at some point early in the history of the kingdom. I’m not sure when, exactly. Legend has it that there was once, long, long ago, a man and his wife who were free. But my master, who has never died, somehow convinced them that being slaves would make them more like the King, and would somehow make them happier. This story is quite strange to me, because this couple was living in the King’s palace, and the King had appointed them to high positions of authority in the kingdom. But they chose instead to be slaves. As a result, all of their children, and their children’s children have all been born into slavery. And as the King’s law states, children of slaves, born into the slave master’s house, remain slaves until death. So that is what my master told the King; the only way I could be made free was by death. My King wanted me for Himself – alive. So He asked my master (knowing in advance what his answer would be) if any death would suffice. And my master, the greedy, conniving, evil being that he is, saw an opportunity (or so he mistakenly thought) to take advantage of the King. He told the King that if the Prince – the King’s only royal Son – would be willing to be executed by him, my master, he would release all of his slaves. My master did not think the King would accept such an offer. For who would give the life of royalty for that of slaves, worth less than the dirt they slept on? But the King had foreseen that this was the offer the slave master would make, and He had, in fact, been preparing His Son since before His birth to give His life willingly to free us slaves. So the King accepted the slave master’s offer, and they arranged a time for the execution and exchange of life to be made.
At the appointed time, the Prince came out of the castle. We could see that He had been preparing Himself for this moment. The slave master was giddy with delight at his apparent impending victory. For the slave master envied the King and His kingdom greatly. He thought that if the Prince died by his hand, there would be no heir to the King’s throne, and that somehow, he would be able to take control of the kingdom. The Prince had asked His Father several times if there were any other way for us to be freed other than by His death, and for Him to choose that alternative. But each time, the King told Him there was no alternative. And the Prince, for He loved, honored, and respected His Father, and lived in accordance with His Father’s wishes, willingly walked out to the place of His execution. We were amazed, for we knew that at any moment, the Prince, by His authority as His Father’s Son, could call out His army to annihilate the slave master. I watched the scene with tears streaming down my face – for the King was letting His beloved Son be killed for our freedom!
The Prince allowed the slave master to bind His hands, knock Him to His knees, and beat Him! Oh, the audacity! He beat the royal Prince, in the presence of the King! But the King knew that it had to happen for us to be set free. The slave master beat the Prince – then he placed on His shoulders His cross – for that was the undignified, merciless way the slave master had chosen to kill the King’s Son. All men who died on a cross were considered cursed; there is no way to be killed that is less honorable. The Prince had to carry this massive structure of wood – all the while stumbling and bleeding – to the top of the hill overlooking the kingdom. And that is where he nailed Him down and hung Him up to die. After He had hung for what seemed like an eternity – for crucifixion is not only excruciatingly painful, but excruciatingly slow as well – with His last breath (and I do not even know where He found the energy to speak) He cried out, with a heart-breaking sound, “Father, why have you forsaken me?” And upon speaking those words, He died. You could feel – not just see, but feel, the life go out from Him. At that moment, our master gleefully began to laugh, and he seemed to swell with pride. But over his cackling, at the very same moment that the Prince’s bruised, bloody head fell limply to His regal chest, we could hear a heart-rending sound from the castle. It sounded like something great breaking. Others claimed it was the castle gate, and in fact the gate was cracked, but I believe the sound we heard was that of the King’s heart actually rending in two. For although He willingly offered up His Son as our substitute, and His Son dutifully obeyed His Father’s wish, He could not have paid a higher price for our freedom, though He owned all the land, and everything above the land, and everything below the land.
After the Prince died, we slaves found ourselves in an unusual position. There are a few days of which my memory is quite foggy. I do know that the cage in which we were enclosed was suddenly removed, but other than that, it was as if my memory has been blacked out. I do remember coming to and viewing an unbelievable sight. If the King Himself had not assured me that it was real, I might still not believe that what I saw existed. Some of the other slaves (they are still slaves now, in fact) said that I was foolish to believe such a sight. For what I saw was the Prince! He was alive! I always knew that the King was powerful, but I never could have imagined that He could return the dead to life! Yet this is what my eyes beheld! The dead Prince brought back to His glorious life! All of us slaves were standing together in a group, for although the cage had vanished, we had not moved from the spot where we had stood to witness the execution of the Prince. The Prince, now very much alive, approached us, and spoke to us. He told us that the King had purchased our freedom. All that we had to do was take the Prince’s hand, and walk with Him up to the castle, and the King would adopt us as His own children, on equal standing with the Prince, for when He was brought back to life, He was also restored to His rightful place at the King’s right hand. This was too good to believe for some of my fellow slaves. They did not believe their eyes or their ears. They were so accustomed to their lives as slaves, and so instead of taking the Prince’s hand and walking with Him to the castle, they walked back to the slave master, and asked to be slaves again! I could not fathom it! The slave master all to readily welcomed them back, and reclaimed his slaves. It was rather odd, however, to see how much he seemed to have shrunk, and to hear how much quieter he was now that the Prince had returned to His Kingdom. For I was beginning to see things as they really were.
After the Prince appeared to us, I know that I felt an undeniable pull in my heart. I do not know how long I stood there after I found out that my freedom had been purchased. It was all so very hard to believe! And the Prince, whom I had seen killed – executed – before my very eyes stood before me once again, declaring freedom. To someone who has been a slave her whole life, the gift of freedom, especially at such a cost, is next to impossible to believe. And yet I did. I stepped forward, and took the Prince’s hand. His grip was strong, yet gentle. He smiled at me, and we stood there for just a moment. It was so strange: there were many slaves who returned to captivity, but there were also many who stepped forward with me. Although there is only one Prince, it was as though He took each of us by the hand individually.
As we began our walk to the castle, the Prince began to tell me what it meant to be free; for a slave cannot know what a life of freedom entails. As He spoke, I began to understand that choosing freedom from slavery meant choosing to be part of the kingdom. In fact, the King had adopted me! I was to be part of the royal family! This meant also, though, that as His daughter, I was expected to obey Him. The King didn’t remember – and this is still a mystery to me – that I was ever a slave. He would treat me as His own flesh and blood. As such, He loved me, for no other reason than that I was His daughter. In fact, the Prince told me, they had both always loved me, and that was why the King had asked the Prince to die to set me free. Because of His great love for me, the King had many gifts for me. I could hardly believe this! The King, the ruler of the whole kingdom, with all of its wealth at His command, wanted to give to me! The Prince explained to me that although the King would not remember that I had been a slave, He would train me and teach me to be a proper princess. For many of the things I had learned as a slave, things I thought were part of me, I would have to give up. But the trade of my old life for this new one as a princess seemed more than generous! The Prince said it would not be easy, but that the King had a special Teacher that He had sent, just for me, who was part of the royal family, too, who would tutor me in the ways of royal living.
And so, for the past several years, I have lived in a castle. The King is now my Father. My Teacher is with me all the time. I think, sometimes, that I know better than my Teacher how I should be taught, for one of the not-so-royal things I learned as a slave was pride. As a result, sometimes I ignore my teacher. For it is hard work to get rid of all my memories of slavery. I was so accustomed to being dirty and cold that sometimes I think that is how I would rather be. So I start walking away from the castle, and smearing mud all over my beautiful, pristine ball gown. But my Teacher, He is right there with me, telling me to stop and turn back. If I am feeling really obstinate, I will put some mud in my ears, and His voice begins to fade away. If I decide to listen to Him, I remember how great the King is, how much He loves me, and how wonderful life in the castle is; and I walk back with my eyes on the ground and a heavy heart in my chest. For if I lift my eyes, I am reminded of that other time I stood outside the castle, in a cage, and saw my Prince executed, so that I could be adopted. Somehow, no matter how far I have strayed from the castle, my Teacher always manages to get my attention. Sometimes it takes pain to wake me from my stupor. When I turn around, and arrive at the castle gates, I must admit my mistake. Oh, the pain that causes me, for I know that each time I decide to go outside of the King’s house, I break His heart. Yet every time I return, He welcomes me back with a royal hug and kiss, and gently lifts my chin with His hand, cleans me off, warms me up, and dresses me in an even more beautiful gown than before. And it always seems as though if I bring up one of the times I left, He has no recollection of it; I am the only one who remembers.
This is my new life. The King has adopted me. I am His princess. The longer I spend in the castle, the less I remember my old way of life. The King does not seem to even remember that I was a slave. My Teacher is always with me. He is my constant companion, and my best friend! He guides me through life in the castle. He keeps me focused on the gift that enables me to be here, living as royalty. Royal life has its responsibilities. Whenever the King asks something of me, I must obey. Often, I do not understand His requests; but He is the King, wise beyond my feeble understanding. I know that He always has my best interests at heart. Sometimes, my old slave nature rears its ugly head, and I disobediently decide to go wandering. But those times are growing fewer and farther in between. Each day, I wake up, and listen to my Teacher’s instructions. It is not always easy to be a princess, but I would not exchange my new life for anything!
But in the meantime, my King is preparing me for Himself. He is teaching me how to behave like royalty; for I used to be a servant. No, I was even lower than that. My ancestors willingly sold our family into slavery to an evil master. But my King, oh, my merciful, loving, generous King – He wanted me for Himself – He wanted me to be part of His kingdom. So He went to my slave master, and enquired as to what the cost would be to free me from my enslavement (although He already knew the cost), for He was saddened by the fact that my ancestors had knowingly and willingly made me a slave, and wanted to free me. My master, cruel and evil though he was, was also one of the King’s subjects, and – especially when face-to-face with his ruler – had to follow the law of the land. The King’s own law – which He must also follow, for He is just, and if He did not obey His own law, He would not be just – said that the only way for a slave to be freed was by death. That was the only way a contract could be fulfilled. Now, my old slave master had many slaves. In fact, the entire kingdom was under his hand, except for the King and His Son, the Prince. All people – who were once free men – became slaves. This happened at some point early in the history of the kingdom. I’m not sure when, exactly. Legend has it that there was once, long, long ago, a man and his wife who were free. But my master, who has never died, somehow convinced them that being slaves would make them more like the King, and would somehow make them happier. This story is quite strange to me, because this couple was living in the King’s palace, and the King had appointed them to high positions of authority in the kingdom. But they chose instead to be slaves. As a result, all of their children, and their children’s children have all been born into slavery. And as the King’s law states, children of slaves, born into the slave master’s house, remain slaves until death. So that is what my master told the King; the only way I could be made free was by death. My King wanted me for Himself – alive. So He asked my master (knowing in advance what his answer would be) if any death would suffice. And my master, the greedy, conniving, evil being that he is, saw an opportunity (or so he mistakenly thought) to take advantage of the King. He told the King that if the Prince – the King’s only royal Son – would be willing to be executed by him, my master, he would release all of his slaves. My master did not think the King would accept such an offer. For who would give the life of royalty for that of slaves, worth less than the dirt they slept on? But the King had foreseen that this was the offer the slave master would make, and He had, in fact, been preparing His Son since before His birth to give His life willingly to free us slaves. So the King accepted the slave master’s offer, and they arranged a time for the execution and exchange of life to be made.
At the appointed time, the Prince came out of the castle. We could see that He had been preparing Himself for this moment. The slave master was giddy with delight at his apparent impending victory. For the slave master envied the King and His kingdom greatly. He thought that if the Prince died by his hand, there would be no heir to the King’s throne, and that somehow, he would be able to take control of the kingdom. The Prince had asked His Father several times if there were any other way for us to be freed other than by His death, and for Him to choose that alternative. But each time, the King told Him there was no alternative. And the Prince, for He loved, honored, and respected His Father, and lived in accordance with His Father’s wishes, willingly walked out to the place of His execution. We were amazed, for we knew that at any moment, the Prince, by His authority as His Father’s Son, could call out His army to annihilate the slave master. I watched the scene with tears streaming down my face – for the King was letting His beloved Son be killed for our freedom!
The Prince allowed the slave master to bind His hands, knock Him to His knees, and beat Him! Oh, the audacity! He beat the royal Prince, in the presence of the King! But the King knew that it had to happen for us to be set free. The slave master beat the Prince – then he placed on His shoulders His cross – for that was the undignified, merciless way the slave master had chosen to kill the King’s Son. All men who died on a cross were considered cursed; there is no way to be killed that is less honorable. The Prince had to carry this massive structure of wood – all the while stumbling and bleeding – to the top of the hill overlooking the kingdom. And that is where he nailed Him down and hung Him up to die. After He had hung for what seemed like an eternity – for crucifixion is not only excruciatingly painful, but excruciatingly slow as well – with His last breath (and I do not even know where He found the energy to speak) He cried out, with a heart-breaking sound, “Father, why have you forsaken me?” And upon speaking those words, He died. You could feel – not just see, but feel, the life go out from Him. At that moment, our master gleefully began to laugh, and he seemed to swell with pride. But over his cackling, at the very same moment that the Prince’s bruised, bloody head fell limply to His regal chest, we could hear a heart-rending sound from the castle. It sounded like something great breaking. Others claimed it was the castle gate, and in fact the gate was cracked, but I believe the sound we heard was that of the King’s heart actually rending in two. For although He willingly offered up His Son as our substitute, and His Son dutifully obeyed His Father’s wish, He could not have paid a higher price for our freedom, though He owned all the land, and everything above the land, and everything below the land.
After the Prince died, we slaves found ourselves in an unusual position. There are a few days of which my memory is quite foggy. I do know that the cage in which we were enclosed was suddenly removed, but other than that, it was as if my memory has been blacked out. I do remember coming to and viewing an unbelievable sight. If the King Himself had not assured me that it was real, I might still not believe that what I saw existed. Some of the other slaves (they are still slaves now, in fact) said that I was foolish to believe such a sight. For what I saw was the Prince! He was alive! I always knew that the King was powerful, but I never could have imagined that He could return the dead to life! Yet this is what my eyes beheld! The dead Prince brought back to His glorious life! All of us slaves were standing together in a group, for although the cage had vanished, we had not moved from the spot where we had stood to witness the execution of the Prince. The Prince, now very much alive, approached us, and spoke to us. He told us that the King had purchased our freedom. All that we had to do was take the Prince’s hand, and walk with Him up to the castle, and the King would adopt us as His own children, on equal standing with the Prince, for when He was brought back to life, He was also restored to His rightful place at the King’s right hand. This was too good to believe for some of my fellow slaves. They did not believe their eyes or their ears. They were so accustomed to their lives as slaves, and so instead of taking the Prince’s hand and walking with Him to the castle, they walked back to the slave master, and asked to be slaves again! I could not fathom it! The slave master all to readily welcomed them back, and reclaimed his slaves. It was rather odd, however, to see how much he seemed to have shrunk, and to hear how much quieter he was now that the Prince had returned to His Kingdom. For I was beginning to see things as they really were.
After the Prince appeared to us, I know that I felt an undeniable pull in my heart. I do not know how long I stood there after I found out that my freedom had been purchased. It was all so very hard to believe! And the Prince, whom I had seen killed – executed – before my very eyes stood before me once again, declaring freedom. To someone who has been a slave her whole life, the gift of freedom, especially at such a cost, is next to impossible to believe. And yet I did. I stepped forward, and took the Prince’s hand. His grip was strong, yet gentle. He smiled at me, and we stood there for just a moment. It was so strange: there were many slaves who returned to captivity, but there were also many who stepped forward with me. Although there is only one Prince, it was as though He took each of us by the hand individually.
As we began our walk to the castle, the Prince began to tell me what it meant to be free; for a slave cannot know what a life of freedom entails. As He spoke, I began to understand that choosing freedom from slavery meant choosing to be part of the kingdom. In fact, the King had adopted me! I was to be part of the royal family! This meant also, though, that as His daughter, I was expected to obey Him. The King didn’t remember – and this is still a mystery to me – that I was ever a slave. He would treat me as His own flesh and blood. As such, He loved me, for no other reason than that I was His daughter. In fact, the Prince told me, they had both always loved me, and that was why the King had asked the Prince to die to set me free. Because of His great love for me, the King had many gifts for me. I could hardly believe this! The King, the ruler of the whole kingdom, with all of its wealth at His command, wanted to give to me! The Prince explained to me that although the King would not remember that I had been a slave, He would train me and teach me to be a proper princess. For many of the things I had learned as a slave, things I thought were part of me, I would have to give up. But the trade of my old life for this new one as a princess seemed more than generous! The Prince said it would not be easy, but that the King had a special Teacher that He had sent, just for me, who was part of the royal family, too, who would tutor me in the ways of royal living.
And so, for the past several years, I have lived in a castle. The King is now my Father. My Teacher is with me all the time. I think, sometimes, that I know better than my Teacher how I should be taught, for one of the not-so-royal things I learned as a slave was pride. As a result, sometimes I ignore my teacher. For it is hard work to get rid of all my memories of slavery. I was so accustomed to being dirty and cold that sometimes I think that is how I would rather be. So I start walking away from the castle, and smearing mud all over my beautiful, pristine ball gown. But my Teacher, He is right there with me, telling me to stop and turn back. If I am feeling really obstinate, I will put some mud in my ears, and His voice begins to fade away. If I decide to listen to Him, I remember how great the King is, how much He loves me, and how wonderful life in the castle is; and I walk back with my eyes on the ground and a heavy heart in my chest. For if I lift my eyes, I am reminded of that other time I stood outside the castle, in a cage, and saw my Prince executed, so that I could be adopted. Somehow, no matter how far I have strayed from the castle, my Teacher always manages to get my attention. Sometimes it takes pain to wake me from my stupor. When I turn around, and arrive at the castle gates, I must admit my mistake. Oh, the pain that causes me, for I know that each time I decide to go outside of the King’s house, I break His heart. Yet every time I return, He welcomes me back with a royal hug and kiss, and gently lifts my chin with His hand, cleans me off, warms me up, and dresses me in an even more beautiful gown than before. And it always seems as though if I bring up one of the times I left, He has no recollection of it; I am the only one who remembers.
This is my new life. The King has adopted me. I am His princess. The longer I spend in the castle, the less I remember my old way of life. The King does not seem to even remember that I was a slave. My Teacher is always with me. He is my constant companion, and my best friend! He guides me through life in the castle. He keeps me focused on the gift that enables me to be here, living as royalty. Royal life has its responsibilities. Whenever the King asks something of me, I must obey. Often, I do not understand His requests; but He is the King, wise beyond my feeble understanding. I know that He always has my best interests at heart. Sometimes, my old slave nature rears its ugly head, and I disobediently decide to go wandering. But those times are growing fewer and farther in between. Each day, I wake up, and listen to my Teacher’s instructions. It is not always easy to be a princess, but I would not exchange my new life for anything!
October 08, 2005
Ephesians 1
I was chosen by God to be one of His children before the foundation of the world. Since God is omnipresent and omniscient, He has known, for all time, the sins that I have committed and will commit. I do not surprise Him. So I think that there is something wrong with the idea of trying to maintain my status as His child. For if He already knew of the worst sin I will ever commit, and yet adopted me, even wants to bless me, then there is no act that I can commit that will result in the loss off my status as a child of God. I was adopted because of the good pleasure of His will. It pleases Him to call me, “daughter.” His grace – an undeserved gift – He has freely given to me through the death of His Beloved – Jesus. He sacrificed His perfect, holy, blameless child so that I could be His daughter. He has lavished His gift upon us. How can I but respond in love? He loves me – not despite my sin, for Jesus has redeemed me, no, I think He loves me because I am His beloved Janine, His darling daughter. He glories in my creation! My Father in heaven thinks me wonderful! He loves me!
He was wise and insightful when He showed me that His will was for me to be in right relationship with Him – and it pleases Him.
Since I am God’s daughter, the child of the master of the universe, I have been given a heavenly heritage. Whatever unpleasant family history and inheritance I thought was mine – is no longer. Instead, my family is God’s, and my siblings are His children – Christ is my Brother. And it does not matter where I fall in the family line, because my Daddy has more than enough to go around!
I became His daughter, and will always be His daughter, because when I heard the Truth of the Good News, I believed in my heart that God raised Jesus from the dead, so I was sealed in Jesus with the Holy Spirit. God pours out His love into my heart by the Holy Spirit. He is patient, kind, not jealous, not bragging or arrogant, does not act unbecomingly, does not seek His own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices in the truth, covers all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things, never fails.
I pray, along with Paul, that my Father would give me a spirit of wisdom and of revelation of the true knowledge of Him. I want to, and ask to, have the eyes of my heart opened, for I know that I do not fully see the hope that He has called me to as His daughter, the riches of the glory of what He has in store for me as His adopted child, and the power that is so surpassingly great, that He uses for me, His beloved daughter. His might, which He used when He raised Jesus from the dead and placed Him in His proper seat in the kingdom, that same might He will use for me, who He picked out before the creation of the world. I ask that the Holy Spirit will open the eyes of my heart, so that I will fully understand the extent of God’s love for me, and the extent to which He has gone and will go in demonstration of His love – for I am His daughter! He loves me! I am part of the body of Jesus – I make up part of the fullness of my Jesus, who fills in all.
He was wise and insightful when He showed me that His will was for me to be in right relationship with Him – and it pleases Him.
Since I am God’s daughter, the child of the master of the universe, I have been given a heavenly heritage. Whatever unpleasant family history and inheritance I thought was mine – is no longer. Instead, my family is God’s, and my siblings are His children – Christ is my Brother. And it does not matter where I fall in the family line, because my Daddy has more than enough to go around!
I became His daughter, and will always be His daughter, because when I heard the Truth of the Good News, I believed in my heart that God raised Jesus from the dead, so I was sealed in Jesus with the Holy Spirit. God pours out His love into my heart by the Holy Spirit. He is patient, kind, not jealous, not bragging or arrogant, does not act unbecomingly, does not seek His own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices in the truth, covers all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things, never fails.
I pray, along with Paul, that my Father would give me a spirit of wisdom and of revelation of the true knowledge of Him. I want to, and ask to, have the eyes of my heart opened, for I know that I do not fully see the hope that He has called me to as His daughter, the riches of the glory of what He has in store for me as His adopted child, and the power that is so surpassingly great, that He uses for me, His beloved daughter. His might, which He used when He raised Jesus from the dead and placed Him in His proper seat in the kingdom, that same might He will use for me, who He picked out before the creation of the world. I ask that the Holy Spirit will open the eyes of my heart, so that I will fully understand the extent of God’s love for me, and the extent to which He has gone and will go in demonstration of His love – for I am His daughter! He loves me! I am part of the body of Jesus – I make up part of the fullness of my Jesus, who fills in all.
October 07, 2005
Fall leaves
I wrote this in a journal at about noon today. Thought you might enjoy it! You can see more of the pictures I took today on my photos page.
Can I take back what I said about Germans being unfriendly? I have been overwhelmed by how friendly the people I've run into lately have been. Maybe it's just been the run of beautiful weather we've been having this week - sunny, clear, crisp, beautiful fall days - what October should be like. It's been in the mid- to upper-sixties the last few days. This is why fall is my favorite season. The temperature is cooler and more comfortable (I love to wear jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt) and most of the flowers are still in bloom, with the brilliant addition of the changing leaves. You can sit outside in the sun and drink a cup of hot tea or a glass of sweet tea.
I think that I just experienced my favorite moment since arriving in Germany (and maybe since longer). I am sitting on a bench on the backside of the castle, in the shade. The Schloss is on a hill, so I can see the rooftops of the city
Have you ever really watched leaves fall? If given the chance to fall from a tree without a gust of wind driving them downward, they don't merely 'fall.' Fall is perhaps an adequate verb to describe the descent of chestnuts or acorns from their lofty perches. 
Walking
Today I ended up walking to the Brubakers' for English class. It was such a beautiful fall day! I love the colors of the trees, the rays from the sun low in the sky, and the smell of the fallen leaves. Here are some pics I took. Click on a photo or go to my Yahoo! photos to see some more. Enjoy!
October 06, 2005
Siedler von Catan
The Brubakers are back (thank you Lord!). They returned on Tuesday, and yesterday we did our weekly prayer walking through Alt Chemnitz. We will start going through Lutherviertel, the section of the city where I live, next week.
After prayer walking, they invited me over for dinner, which I naturally accepted. After dinner, Celeste and Zach were doing dishes, Sarah was reading, and Steve was up on the computer, so I just assumed (especially since it was a school night - the kids have to leave for school at about 6:30) that the evening was over, so I put my shoes on, and (sadly) got ready to go catch the bus back to my apartment. Then I noticed that Zach was looking at me sort of strangely, so I asked what was up. He said he was hoping to play a game of Siedler von Catan (see above - pictured is one of the expansion sets for the game, not a book; click on the link to find out more). Oh Happy Day! Siedler is AWESOME!!! I immediately took my shoes back off, and went to go set up the game.
To give you a little bit of info about the game - it's like Risk, only funner! (jk - more fun) I don't even know how to explain it. It took us two hours to play a game last night. It takes a lot of strategery and is very complex. The board is set up differently every time (the pieces of land or water are movable), so each game is a new challenge. It's just good, clean fun! Check out Wikopedia's sites about Settlers from Catan, and the expansion set of Cities and Knights, which we play with, for more information. The second weekend I was in Chemnitz, the city set the world record for the biggest Siedler game.
Last night was fun - and it's SO good to have the Brubakers back in town!
Cheerio!
After prayer walking, they invited me over for dinner, which I naturally accepted. After dinner, Celeste and Zach were doing dishes, Sarah was reading, and Steve was up on the computer, so I just assumed (especially since it was a school night - the kids have to leave for school at about 6:30) that the evening was over, so I put my shoes on, and (sadly) got ready to go catch the bus back to my apartment. Then I noticed that Zach was looking at me sort of strangely, so I asked what was up. He said he was hoping to play a game of Siedler von Catan (see above - pictured is one of the expansion sets for the game, not a book; click on the link to find out more). Oh Happy Day! Siedler is AWESOME!!! I immediately took my shoes back off, and went to go set up the game.
To give you a little bit of info about the game - it's like Risk, only funner! (jk - more fun) I don't even know how to explain it. It took us two hours to play a game last night. It takes a lot of strategery and is very complex. The board is set up differently every time (the pieces of land or water are movable), so each game is a new challenge. It's just good, clean fun! Check out Wikopedia's sites about Settlers from Catan, and the expansion set of Cities and Knights, which we play with, for more information. The second weekend I was in Chemnitz, the city set the world record for the biggest Siedler game.
Last night was fun - and it's SO good to have the Brubakers back in town!
Cheerio!
October 05, 2005
Reading...
Sorina asked me what else is going on with me besides idiosyncrasies, so I promised her another post tonight. Well, there isn’t anything too exciting going on today. I read a bunch today, prepared for and taught English class, and will probably read some more before going to bed. I’m currently working on Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis, Waking the Dead by John Eldredge, Conformed to His Image/The Servant As His Lord by Oswald Chambers, On the Threshold of Hope by Diane Mandt Langberg [note: I'm reading this at the request of a dear loved one, to help understand her struggles], Let Me Be A Woman and Through Gates of Splendor by Elisabeth Elliot, The Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan, and Ephesians by Paul, and I just finished Quest for Love by Elisabeth Elliot. That I love to read is an understatement. I used to read on the bus to school, and sometimes would finish a book a day as a kid.
I guess I’ll write about something from Waking the Dead. In the second chapter, Eldridge writes about how we need to open up the eyes of our heart to the spiritual war that is going on all around us. He uses Daniel 10 as an example. Go and read your Bible to get up to speed, but what happened was that Daniel was troubled, so he fasted and prayed for three weeks without seeing a result. Eldridge proposes that if most of us were in that situation, we’d come to one of two conclusions – that either “I’m blowing it, or God is holding out on me” (31).
Daniel, if he’s like most of us, “might try confessing every sin and petty offense in hopes of opening up the lines of communication with God. Or he might withdraw into a sort of disappointed resignation, drop the fast, and turn on the television. In an effort to hang on to his faith, he might embrace the difficulty as part of ‘God’s will for his life.’ He might read a book on ‘the silence of God.’ That’s the way the people I know handle this sort of thing.
“He would be dead wrong.” p. 31
After the three weeks of fasting and praying, an angel shows up. God sent him out on the first day Daniel started praying, but he was delayed because of having to fight a fallen angel. Eldredge makes his point that we are in a world at war. There is more going on than meets the eye.
I don’t feel like I’m really communicating this well, but regardless, God spoke to me through this section. I had a mini ‘ker-plunk’ moment.
Random link of the day - my brother and his trebuchet
Idiosyncrasies
What - me?! Idiosyncrasies?! Surely you jest!
After thinking long and hard (two minutes), I managed to scrape together a few. Thanks for tagging me, Sally!
1. When I eat ice cream out of a bowl, I add milk, and mix it together to form a sort of thick milkshake-type substance. And the bigger the ice crystals, the better.
2. I add peanut butter to my hot chocolate.
3. I don't untie my shoelaces unless absolutely necessary.
4. I have a favorite number. It is 24. My birthday is on the 24th, but beyond that, 24 has an uncommonly high number of divisors for so small a number - 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 12, and 24. Math Geek in the Hizzouse!!! Whaaaat!!! I could rock some arrow roads back in the day...and don't get me started on number circles, Eli and his magic peanuts, and number boards!
5. Oh, I almost forgot - I put lemons in my Dr. Pepper. Drives waitresses crazy! ("Could I please have a plate of lemon wedges to go with my Dr. Pepper?")
6. Just kidding on there being more than five...what, you don't believe me? Ok, I'll just say that I found a few others...
Tag: Amy, Amy, Maryah, Peter, Nathan, Sorina
After thinking long and hard (two minutes), I managed to scrape together a few. Thanks for tagging me, Sally!
1. When I eat ice cream out of a bowl, I add milk, and mix it together to form a sort of thick milkshake-type substance. And the bigger the ice crystals, the better.
2. I add peanut butter to my hot chocolate.
3. I don't untie my shoelaces unless absolutely necessary.
4. I have a favorite number. It is 24. My birthday is on the 24th, but beyond that, 24 has an uncommonly high number of divisors for so small a number - 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 12, and 24. Math Geek in the Hizzouse!!! Whaaaat!!! I could rock some arrow roads back in the day...and don't get me started on number circles, Eli and his magic peanuts, and number boards!
5. Oh, I almost forgot - I put lemons in my Dr. Pepper. Drives waitresses crazy! ("Could I please have a plate of lemon wedges to go with my Dr. Pepper?")
6. Just kidding on there being more than five...what, you don't believe me? Ok, I'll just say that I found a few others...
Tag: Amy, Amy, Maryah, Peter, Nathan, Sorina
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