Since I was 10, I've never wanted to do anything but write. What I've wanted to write has changed: poetry, stories, novels, magazine articles, newspaper articles.
A week ago today, for the first time in a decade, I considered doing something else. Crazier still, I think I just might do it.
I'm just as enthusiastic about newspaper journalism as ever. I love shedding light on the important issues of the world and giving citizens the tools they need to be a member of society. There's so much going on, and it would be a privilege to report it all. But I've been thinking about my lifestyle: it's busy, over-programmed, over-scheduled. I do too much.
I used to love it, but now I hate it. I'm perpetually exhausted, perpetually out of breath, perpetually way too much. I hate that I plan coffee dates with friends a week in advance, that I plan my sleep schedule, that I calculate how many minutes it takes for me to eat meals, then try to eat in less time than that. I hate that I don't do homework until the last minute, because I no longer focus well unless I'm on a deadline. I hate that I haven't been to the Rec Center in weeks, but I've been to countless restaurants and coffee shops, typically when I'm en route to some other destination.
God has given me many wake-up calls over the past several years. I listen, for about two days, but I rarely take steps to actually slow my life down permanently.
Well, God, I'm listening.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
showing up
Good news first: last time my dad was in the hospital, the Bears lost. To the Colts, of all teams. This time, the Bears won, against Green Bay. And Mizzou is now #11 in the nation, thank you very much. It's promising.
That's another thing God has taught me lately: there's so much promise in this world, but you only find it through Him. Phillipians 4:12 has two interpretations, and I'm shifting towards the second. The first interpretation is the Nike interpretation, the can-do, the slogan-on-a-motivational-poster interpretation: I CAN DO EVERYTHING through Him who gives me strength. The "through Him" aspect is a side note, an afterthought, an addendum to the real deal.
The second interpretation was revealed to me at Fall Conference with RUF. The verse isn't a pump-yourself-up verse; rather, it is a trust-in-God verse: I can do eveything THROUGH HIM who gives me strength. We're not the stars of the show. All we do is show up.
That's another thing God has taught me lately: there's so much promise in this world, but you only find it through Him. Phillipians 4:12 has two interpretations, and I'm shifting towards the second. The first interpretation is the Nike interpretation, the can-do, the slogan-on-a-motivational-poster interpretation: I CAN DO EVERYTHING through Him who gives me strength. The "through Him" aspect is a side note, an afterthought, an addendum to the real deal.
The second interpretation was revealed to me at Fall Conference with RUF. The verse isn't a pump-yourself-up verse; rather, it is a trust-in-God verse: I can do eveything THROUGH HIM who gives me strength. We're not the stars of the show. All we do is show up.
Monday, October 08, 2007
it's been a while
I haven't blogged in a while. But I've been growing. God's been using challenges and experiences and PEOPLE to make a difference.
I've learned countless things about who God is, who He has made me to be and what He wants for His children. He teaches me every day that He never throws us into battle without armor. In my case, armor is my friends. I'm so grateful, because I have the best friends I could ask for. They support me and love me and show me a real picture of God.
I'm finding the joy amidst the trials . . .
I've learned countless things about who God is, who He has made me to be and what He wants for His children. He teaches me every day that He never throws us into battle without armor. In my case, armor is my friends. I'm so grateful, because I have the best friends I could ask for. They support me and love me and show me a real picture of God.
I'm finding the joy amidst the trials . . .
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