La Piazza

Brief Book Review

2008-12-01T09:51:00.000-08:00

I have recently finished reading Lost Women of the Bible: The Women We Thought We Knew by Carolyn Custis James. Needless to say, the book title caught my attention immediately and the content kept my attention throughout. Here is a brief review I published on an online book club website.

This book has had a profound effect on me. So much so that I started reading it again, just after I finished it the first time. As a woman who has grown up in the church, I have often felt that women have gotten the shaft not only in the Bible but from the pulpit as well. I was fortunate enough to have been raised in a church whose denomination was founded by a woman, but you would hardly know it if you looked at the various church directories in this very denomination. To add insult to injury, women are not only extremely neglected in sermons, but outside of the pulpit, ridiculous mythical expectations and roles are defined for us because of poor interpretations of Biblical stories.

Custis James clears all of this up as she brilliantly profiles women who have been entirely ignored, those who have unjustly been given a bad name, or those who have been put on a pedestal that they probably should not have, for the reasons that they were. I love clarity, and Custis James brings about scriptural clarity where teaching has been cloudy, at best.

Who would have ever thought that an entire chapter could be devoted to Noah's wife, or that a close, realistic look at Esther would reveal that she was actually quite the compromiser, until it came down to the 11th hour for her people?,

The lovely thing about this book is that it, in no way, has a rabid feminist tone that would be off-putting to men or would pit women against men. Rather, she simply makes a case for women in the Bible, gently reminding men about our worth and reason for being and encouraging women who may not fit the standard they have seen set for them, in whatever social circles they call home.

I put this book down with tremendous sense that God has created me equally in His image, and that my "role" as a woman is in no way as binding as society, Christian or secular, would have me believe. I'm grateful to live in a free country but am not settling for the nonsense that I can only achieve true value in ministry if I fulfill the docile, unopinionated, married mother of 5 archetype. That's just not how God created me, and I am now convinced that that view is entirely opposed to how God sees women, his ezers. Not to say most of us don't long to be wives and mothers but that is not the end point of our existence. We are fighters, supporters, helpers, and nurturers. Custis James reminds readers that those qualities just might come not come wrapped in their expected packaging.

Loss

2008-11-20T22:01:00.001-08:00

There are some people that I've always envisioned being here, in my life, on this earth. I lost one of them today. Not to sound trivial, but when the first President Bush spoke of "a thousand points of light," Joyce was a torch.

This was a woman whose mark on my life is probably far greater than even she could imagine. She was a fixture in my childhood. Just barely older than my parents, she and her husband were like an aunt and uncle but treated me more like a grandparent would--spoiling me and my friends each time when we were at their lovely and modest home. Joyce had a way of making you feel incredibly special. And it wasn't in a materialistic sense. She was so warm and inviting in her demeanor, you couldn't help but feel like one of the family. I recall many days and nights spent playing tennis at her house or swimming in their backyard, to come inside to the yummiest baked goods afterward. In my older years, she and her husband were enormously supportive of my endeavors, always supporting me as I went on missions trips and expressing tremendous joy when I reached a milestone such as a graduation.

Ironically, I feel much closer to Joyce and her husband than I do to their children. Lisa and Max aren't much older than I am, but I always loved hanging out with their mom. However, I feel a tremendous sense of sympathy and pain for them as they have just lost their beautiful, kind mother, and right before the holidays.

The worst part of this whole ordeal for me personally is never having had the chance to see her when she was ill or to say goodbye before she left us. I know that's terribly selfish of me, but I am pained beyond what I can express because I am so far away and never had that opportunity. I have no doubt that there will probably be well over several thousand people at her memorial. It hurts that I probably won't be one of them.

I know that Joyce fought valiantly and with such class. She's a model for enduring suffering. She was always optimistic and positive. I'm sure she hardly ever complained even behind closed doors. I just don't understand why God would take such a woman from us when this world is so desperately in need of Godly, loving, humble women. Yet I have to trust that He is sovereign and knows exactly what He is doing.

I honestly thought she'd pull through this, that she would beat the tumors and cancer that was so violently attacking her brain. I prayed for and believed for a miracle. And while that didn't happen in the way we all wanted, I am so happy that she is no longer suffering and that she is with the Savior she so adored. Those of us who await a reunion with her will always remember her passion for Jesus and how she so wonderfully bore His image. Now He has her all to himself.

Rest in Jesus, Joyce. Until that glorious day when we will see you again, we will miss you terribly.

Who is Portia and what's a piazza?

2008-10-29T22:56:00.000-07:00

About five years ago, I ventured into the blogosphere. "Portia" has always been my pseudonym as she is my favorite Shakespearean character, even one I'd venture to say I'd like to emulate (minus the silly deception of her husband). I thought I'd take a second to explain to those unfamiliar with Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice who Portia is. Also, a piazza is a square, in Italian.

Here's my explanation, written approximately three years ago:

Who is Portia? Portia is quite possibly one of the most brilliant of the Shakespearean heroines. In Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, Portia is a beautiful young woman in search of a husband. Her father has just passed away and had certain stipulations about the process by which a suitor would become her husband. Being a woman with a deep sense of duty and honor, she abides by her father's rules, but with a certain flair that only she could possess.

In the play, Antonio, a friend of Portia's finds himself in debt to a Jewish money lender named Shylock (you probably know him from his famous "If you prick us, do we not bleed" speech). Shylock is technically entitled to a pound of Antonio's flesh if Antonio cannot come up with the money, which, of course he cannot due to some unforeseen nautical issues. Portia masquerades as an attorney and begins with an argument full of pathos, appealing to the court and Shylock to show mercy. However, when that doesn't go over too well, she bends the law to such an extent that the court has no choice but to forgive the man's debt. Mercy didn't work, so she gave them the law.

In case you hadn't read it, her famed beckon for mercy:

The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.

This all begs the question, is this site named Portia's Piazza because the site owner fancies herself her modern day archetype? Not one bit. But it's a noble pursuit. I love great writing, brilliant arguments and beautiful things. Portia seemed like a good fit. But you can be the judge of that.

Celebrating Manners

2008-10-27T10:39:00.000-07:00

Today is Emily Post's birthday. She has certainly been a social hero of mine, not just because we have the same name, but because she is largely responsible for the popularity of manners in American society. William Wilberforce was responsible for revitalizing British society, and I think it's safe to say that Post had a hand in cultivating it on our soil.

But we've come a long way from those days. I'm continually horrified at the lack of manners in our society. The area I now call home is full of very nice people, so I'm blessed in that regard. But as a whole, and the more I travel, the more I realize how uncivilized much of our society can appear. Just go to any sporting event if you doubt me.

In part, this can be attributed to a positive change in society. Once strict classes were somewhat dissolved, and there was no marked difference between upper middle class and upper class, things became less formal and people behaved by fewer rules. The positive here is that there aren't caste-like social strata in the U.S. like there used to be. Of course there's the rich and the rest of us, but nothing like it was even 60 years ago. We no longer need heavy guide books like Ms. Post's to even communicate with those well above our station. In fact, most wealthy and prominent figures today act about as low class as one could imagine (see: nearly every celebrity).

While the shift in America's social economy is nice, it is too bad we threw the baby out with the bathwater and rid ourselves of most formal rules of etiquette. Rather than viewing manners as posh and only for the fabulously wealthy, it should have been taught to the masses to promote a more civil and classy society, regardless of economic standing. But that's just my humble opinion.

Read more about Ms. Post and how truly classy she was here. And for an entertaining read on manners, its history and present status, I highly recommend Lynne Truss' Talk to the Hand: The Utter Bloody Rudeness of the World Today, or Six Good Reasons to Stay Home and Bolt the Door. It's a marvelous book, and probably funnier in audio book format. I've "heard" both her books and found them all the more engaging with her snobby English accent.

Spiritual ADD

2008-10-26T20:23:00.000-07:00

Authors throughout antiquity have wrote of their pension for wandering from the fold. I am certainly less articulate and not the last writer to put pen to paper on the subject...

"I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you by the grace of Christ" Galatians 1:6a

Paul was astonished, and so am I. Countless times, God has explicitly given me direction and often has physically moved me to limit distractions from that direction. And I am still able to find ways to veer from the path He's set before me. My friends and I call this "The Shiny Syndrome." If you've ever put something shiny in front of a fishbowl, it's amusing to watch certain fish stop what they are doing to chase the shimmer. The same with laser pointers and dogs, or cats. Not only are they fascinated by this light, they must catch it. And the same can be said of my nature. I can be hot pursuit of God and His will for my life, and then this little devil on the side of the road flashes some shiny, cheap object in my peripheral vision, and bam! I'm caught in wonder of this elusive object and must chase it.

I do not anticipate this ever letting up. Sometimes, I am impressed with my focus. I simply bat away the shiny distractor and keep moving. Other times, and more recently, I can't resist it. And I wander, leaving my Savior behind me while I chase low grade, temporary experiences.

Again, to defer to an author far superior to myself, C.S. Lewis (my favorite Christian thinker) said in The Weight of Glory,

Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

All I can do once I realize the pathetic nature of the distraction is simply run back to the path I was on, plead for my Savior to forgive me and set my gaze upon Him. If only He'd give me permanent spiritual blinders. Life would be all the easier for that, yet probably not nearly as rewarding that He was receiving the love of followers who loved Him in a passively forced manner. What a God we serve--He trusts us enough to walk along the path with all manner of billboard distractions and lies vying desperately for our attention. And He trusts the Word He's implanted in our hearts. That, in the end, we will not depart from it. And when we don't, how much sweeter is our love for Him. It is a choice made, knowing the counterfeits offered to us by the spiritual con men at the side of the road.

I'm back on the road, determined to keep my eyes affixed on the One who sacrificed far more than my little mind could ever imagine, so that I may have a life more abundant than the one presented by the shrill, unceasing voices off the road less traveled.

Though I fall, I know He's there to catch me. Though I wander, He's faithful to pursue me and woo me back to the life He's intended. And I am in utter awe of His faithfulness and patience with His attention deficit riddled little girl. What a God we serve.

Dangerous Prayers

2007-07-25T19:19:00.000-07:00

You know those days that start off beautifully...literally beginning the morning exclaiming, "Good morning, Jesus!" followed by a whole laundry list of things you're thankful for, most of all who God is and always has been? And isn't it amazing how a matter of hours can shatter that whole mood and grateful heart?

Yeah.

This morning was that morning; and this afternoon was just that very afternoon. The day began with the above scenario. I prayed my whole commute, thanking God for loads of things, people, opportunities. I prayed scripture verses, thanked Him for who He is and that his plan is to prosper me and not to harm me, etc, etc, etc. I prayed for pastors, friends both saved and not yet saved, countries, and the list goes on. Then I get a phone call that just does me in. And the downward spiral of events continued from then on out.

I told the Lord this morning that my faith in Him was based on who He is, not what he does or can do for me.

Big mistake. :)

I should have anticipated that only hours after that a whole onslaught of events would transpire to test that very statement, that very truth in my life--testing to see if it was another empty utterance. And maybe it was. Because right now I'm not super happy with the One whom I was praising not that long ago.

The worst thing about being human is the inability to foresee events. At least, that's my opinion. Abraham had to lead his only son up a hill to sacrifice him not knowing if there would be any provision in place of Isaac. He couldn't see the ram on the other side of his circumstance. And neither can we. Or at least I can't. I have faith enough for my friends' lives, but when it comes to my own life and whether or not God truly has it out for me or will work things out for my best, it's questionable.

When it comes down to it, this is all my fault. If I hadn't prayed that silly prayer, this would never have happened. :)

But in all seriousness, dangerous prayers are exactly what we need to pray if our desire is to truly and more deeply know the character of God for who He is, not what we perceive or desire him to be. And that is what I really want, though I flinch when he begins the process of letting me in on all of it.

So while most of the time my faith does rest in his works, his providence, that is not what I want. I want my faith to be based in "God is God and I am not," and all the other attributes that are so far beyond my understanding that, in moments of revelation, put to rest any and all possible fears that He has my best in mind. Of course He does; he gave His only son so that he could be with me. What else do I need to know?

Unfortunately, more.

I await the day when my fickle, finite nature is exchanged for one of faithfulness and understanding. In the meantime, I'll keep inching my way toward the One in whom I know deep down I can always trust, who does indeed have the best for my life, which often looks nothing like what I had planned. Probably why it's the best.

Over the water

2007-07-22T22:20:00.000-07:00

I have just returned from a solo beach trip. I was unable to secure any companions for my mandatory beach trip (and by mandatory, I mean that there was absolutely nothing else I wanted to do today but find one of my more favorite secluded beaches and just park it). So, I went by myself.

The beach I settled on is not nearly as popular as its neighboring, huge state beaches, which makes for a more relaxing time. This particular beach has huge rock formations, caves and really beautiful nooks and crannies, if beaches can have such things. The weather was fantastic and the water was actually warm.

There is almost nothing like sitting in the sand and staring out at the water, its character so much like God's--unending, beautiful, terrifying and inspiring.

I was born near the water and have always been drawn to it. The ocean is a permanent fixture in my life. And yet, as familiar as it can seem, it never ceases to amaze me. I can gaze for hours at it, play in it, and stand in awe of it. I can run in with abandon and in an instant, when something foreign brushes my leg, be reminded that there is so much I don't know of it.

Today the weather changed quite often. One minute the haunting presence of a cloud would settle over the water, the next it would burn off and the sun would warm me as I read. It is on days such as these that I am reminded of why I've never really had any desire to leave Los Angeles. The siren call of the waves gets me every time.

Rebecca, and Twenty-seven other reasons why I refuse to pick up romantic novels

2007-07-20T20:09:00.000-07:00

I used to blog. A lot. It lost its appeal somewhere between February of 2004 when '08 hopefuls started announcing their intent to run for president and the movement of the blogosphere as a whole to facilitate premature predictions as to who would win. Political blogging is so one-dimensional and all-consuming and I just couldn't take it anymore. Plus, it's really no good for one's blood pressure. Mine is now safely back at 88/58.

While I was a blogger, I frequently interrupted my usual, brief political commentary with something personal. One such entry referred to my remedy for road rage. After much experimentation, I found that one of the most effective cures was an audio book. Losing oneself in classic prose seemed to be the perfect escape whilst sitting on the never moving 10 freeway hoping to dodge the accident demons running amuck at 7 a.m. PST.

In my quest for new material, I decided that catching up on classic books I had never read would be a smashing idea. I took French Literature in high school and had my fair share of Descartes, Hugo, Voltaire, Dumas, Rousseau and the other men who shaped literature, philosophy and ethics as we know them today. However, my foray into French literature meant that I missed out on many the Anglo or American authors that most of my peers have known and loved, or loathed.

My future sister-in-law chides me endlessly for never having read any of Charlotte or Emily Bronte and other such authors. The women, sometimes men, who penned classic romance novels, the Bronte women tragic romance novels.

I actually hate these types of books, to be quite honest, with the exception of Austen, whose books I do enjoy. I hate Gone with the Wind. I absolutely loathe Rebecca, so much so I couldn't even finish it, I felt it such a waste of my time. And I am generally not a fan of any story that ends with infidelity or the untimely death of a beloved. No thanks. Life is hard enough; I don't need to be wrapped up in grief over fictional characters.

I wholeheartedly believe that God made women to love romance and mystery and beauty. I know that as sure as I know I am a woman. It's a deep and profound part of our make up. However, novels that exploit such desires and/or ruin them with tales of woe are of no interest to me, as I believe they "pull a fast one" on our psyche. It's hard enough being a Christian female in Los Angeles, where chivalry died the minute Reagan left office. And possibly even before that. (There is something unusual and telling about a midwestern, turned California cowboy leaving office to be succeeded by a Berkeley man.) I don't need to be flittering about town wondering why none of the eligible bachelors approach me with such lines as, "I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul." And to be fair, that line is a Hollywood adaptation of Austen.

I am comfortable enough in my femininity to admit my love of overtly masculine novels and their authors. These novels are not without their love stories. Male authors generally incorporate three main thematic elements: adventure, battle and love. This I enjoy. Gossipy, pining love stories make me physically nauseous. (This also might be why I enjoy Austen more than others. She had strong female archetypes who tended to fall hard due to their stubborn resistance toward their love-sick counterparts' vain pursuit of male attention.)

So, what's next on the list of to-be-heard novels, you ask?

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky and Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy.

It's the Soviet invasion of my Japanese car. Who knows. I might go crazy and even get Boris Pasternak's Doctor Zhivago or Nicholai Gogol's Dead Souls.

Apparently I'm still avoiding American and British literature.

It might seem somewhat contradictory to delve into Russian literature, which is almost always tragic. However, I find it far less cloying than du Maurier's depiction of a spineless, obsequious young wife tormented by the memory of her husband's late (somewhat mythical) wife. Or the self-centered brat Scarlet O'Hara who, at the end of all her trials, vows to set looking after herself as her number one priority.

Give me real tragedy; the stuff I should cry about. Give me thought provoking, inspiring premises, not something that makes me want to throw my car over an embankment.

So, here's to the Ruskies. I'll make my way west after the 60 logged hours of listening time it will take to get through the aforementioned novels.

And I thought last night was bad

2007-07-04T23:16:00.000-07:00

I have absolutely no clue when I'll actually be able to get to bed. It sounds like I'm in the middle of the Sunni Triangle. Except at the tail end of the first pop is a fizzling sound. Oh, and no one is being gunned down.

But still....really guys? Really? Some of us did become grown ups and do have to leave the house before 7 am.

I think that before any sale of fireworks, people should be subjected to a rigorous test assessing their knowledge of the American Revolution and the events preceding and following it that contributed to the significance of the "Fourth of July." If they score less than 80%, they will not be allowed to purchase fireworks of any kind.

That'd separate the wheat from the chaff. :)

If only...

Independence Day Eve

2007-07-03T22:43:00.000-07:00

In the last week, it has come to my attention that my neighborhood likes fireworks. I've gotten over the "duck and cover" reaction I initially had upon hearing rapid fire in this, the southeastern region of Los Angeles. Some of them have been a bit fun to watch from my window. But the issue I now have is not that they're keeping me awake (in fact, I've almost gotten used to the sound) but the pesky sirens that follow them. (For my one out of state reader, fireworks of any kind are illegal for civilians in Los Angeles county. Something about brush fires and whatnot.)

Despite the anticipation of a long evening, it is with much pride that I wish everyone a Happy Independence Day! Don't do anything I wouldn't do. ;-)

May God continue to bless and guide this country.

"Take me now, God!"

2007-07-03T06:29:00.000-07:00

I have been battling an awful illness for over two weeks now and I'm sick to death of it. I am one of those people who "doesn't get sick, ever." It appears that my physical being now wants to make up for that.

There's really no point to this post, other than to rant about how tired I am of avoiding swallowing because it hurts so bad and the coughing...oh, the coughing.

That's about it. I don't have roommates to gripe to any longer, so tag, you're it. :)

Happiness is...

2007-06-30T11:06:00.001-07:00

Drinking coffee on a Saturday morning while listening to Dennis Prager podcasts.

Bittersweetness

2007-06-28T23:14:00.000-07:00

Life is so full of joy and sorrow. And often at the same time.

These past few months have seen great highs and lows. I have been presented with a number of incredible opportunities, found a wonderful place to live and am supporting my brother and his fiancee plan their wedding. At the same time, two people I love and admire have been diagnosed with brain tumors, another friend of mine is grieving the loss of her friend to a brain tumor, my childhood friend's mom has breast cancer, my mom's dear friend just had heart surgery and today my best friend told me she has skin cancer.

Meanwhile, my cousin and his wife welcomed their first child into the world, I finished my research proposal and many of my close companions who do not yet know the Lord are voicing greater interest in my faith.

It is a strange place, betwixt and between the two extremes. I thank God that He is my rock. This would all be far too much to handle without Him.

Ideas a la carte

2007-06-21T10:13:00.000-07:00

I'm in forced bedrest mode, suffering from a horrendous case of strep throat, which is common among children. I work with children, or little carrier monkeys as we affectionately call them. As such, they're perfectly healthy and I'm stuck at home. I like relaxing and taking time off work. But I prefer doing that on vacation when I'm not battling a fever of 102 and coughing my lungs up. But I guess I'll take what I can get. :)

In the meantime, a random assortment of ideas streaming through my heavily medicated mind:

~I just watched Pirates of the Caribbean (the first one) and found myself criticizing certain unlikely aspects of the movie, such as Ms. Swan letting herself down the side of a ship conveniently into a dinghy. And then I thought, "You're criticizing that detail in a movie about pirates searching for the blood of a traitor to undo a curse that makes them virtually undead beings?"

~I live in an all black neighborhood. I love the street I live on and the neighbors are really sweet. But as I was sick as a dog the other day and since I live alone, I had to drag myself to the store for soup and such. I had the most horrifically unfriendly demeanor because I wanted to die. And I felt so bad that I was the only white girl in the store looking like I'd eat someone if they talked to me.

~Research proposals...what's that all about?

~Interviews are a funny process. I endured a three hour interview recently and thought I did quite well. The balance between being too confident and over eager and too modest is very difficult. I thought I managed it well, but we'll see. I'll keep you posted because if that works out, I'd have one of the most kickin positions ever. And by "you" I mean my mom and Dave. :)

K. That's all my worn out, drugged little brain can manage. At least for now.

S.O.S

2007-06-13T20:23:00.000-07:00

I would consider myself a pretty motivated person, but for the life of me I cannot work up enough desire to write/finish my research proposal. I suppose part of it's because:

a.) it's summer
b.) the seminar class is credit/no credit. This one's heavily motivated by letter grades. No letter grades, no good.
c.) it's summer

I even have a wicked topic that I'm fairly passionate about. Still nothing.

Need fire. In belly. Not working.

Ugh.

I can't get no...

2007-06-13T06:11:00.000-07:00

Unrest is everywhere. It's hugely evident in our culture, with the over medication of kids and adults, the steady rise of juvenile crime, constant protests. People are not at rest. Nor will they ever be.

Paul admonishes Christians to find contentment in all situations, but he doesn't mean this as an excuse to live a life of blissful lethargy. (I think we all know what he means.) As believers, we have the peace of God that surpasses all understanding. We have abundant joy and the hope of spending eternity with our Creator. But we are still not at rest because this is not our home. While we have peace, we are possibly more painfully aware of the fact that our earthly surroundings do not align with God's original intent.

But the unrest we experience can spur us on to serve our world in a greater capacity to see an invasion of God's original design for his creation. Our unrest should motivate us into a deeper relationship with God, as this world is just not livable without that. Our dissatisfaction with the world is a good thing--it means the worlds isn't good enough, and it's not.

I am not a runner. In fact, land activity isn't natural to this one. I'm a water sports girl. But yesterday I ran and you know that place you hit when all your joints and muscles are finally warmed up and you could run and run forever, or so it seems? I hit that place and ran and ran. But then I realized I wasn't pushing myself so I hauled for a quarter mile to cap off the two mile run. (And yes, this is huge for me. Remember: swimmer.)

As I was running I was thinking about satisfaction, contentment, and unrest. If athletes were wholly satisfied and content, they would never improve nor win anything. Their discontent pushes them because it's the realization that "I'm here but could be here."

It's the same with us. We're here in this messed up world with messed up people. And soon, we won't be. But while we are, our understanding of how things ought to be should act as a catalyst which brings about God's will on earth.

Now hold on a second

2007-06-11T05:55:00.000-07:00

Having grown up in the church and heard whole messages preached on verses such as, "No, in all things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us," (Rom 8:37), I've not ever fancied myself a victim. In fact, when I was a teenager I left team sports for individualized sports so that I couldn't blame someone else for a loss.

And yet, in matters of my faith I find myself freaking out about certain issues, either things that have not come to pass, things I am hoping will, or something to that effect. I found myself doing this last week after I had invested myself in a situation I had hoped would bear fruit. Rather than praying, asking God to bless the situation and protect it from the adversary, I freaked out. Super productive. And...the behavior of a victim.

If there is one thing I have loved about growing up in the Foursquare church that I have is that they don't allow you to be a victim about much. You're generically depressed (not clinically)? How's your prayer life? How much time do you spend in the Word? Are you taking time to personally worship Him?

Things not working out with a friend? How much have you prayed and asked God to reveal what you might have done to contribute to the situation? Have you prayed and asked God's blessing on the person who hurt you? Have you apologized and asked forgiveness for your part?

Honestly, those questions are the worst thing ever when you're in a situation. It's the voice of your mom when you don't do well on a test (which, of course has never been me) saying, "Well...how much did you study for it?"

But I appreciate such questions and that nudging toward personal responsibility now that I'm older and wiser (cough, cough). I don't care to be friends with professional victims, I loathe victim mentalities and yet, in some situations I'm a big, fat hypocrite because I tow that party line.

Not anymore.

The minute I realized I had much more power than that, maybe not necessarily over the situation itself, but over my attitude and prayer life for the situation, I felt so much freer. (That was a horribly constructed sentence and I apologize to my four readers. Yes, I have four now :) I could list the scriptures that coincide with this post, but that would make this a ridiculously long post. To sum up, we are more than conquerors who needn't go around worrying about situations "beyond our control." We can pray and ask God to soften hearts, open ears and keep the enemy from messing with those whom we love and care about.

Well, maybe I will list one longer passage as back up for my post. These are the verses that should revolutionize your thinking as well as prayer life. I mean, just think about this...

Ephesians 1:18-23 (NIV),

I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title that can be given, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.

The same power that raised Christ from the dead is available to us every day. It's impossible to be a victim when one understands that.

What not to do

2007-06-09T18:38:00.000-07:00

Things to avoid before writing a significant paper with an imminent deadline:

1. Work out

2. Work out really hard...so hard you can't think straight or move your arms.

Just a few pearls for you.

City of Angels

2007-06-09T16:27:00.000-07:00

John 15:2: "He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful."

When I began applying to graduate schools, I had my mind set on moving to Orange County (which is actually where I originally hail from). I had been accepted to a good school out there, the area was beautiful, but then I got an acceptance packet from a school I've always wanted to attend. Massive wrench in plans. For days and days I deliberated and sought God's direction. I went on long runs just asking the Lord to speak to me about where I should go. In the end, I chose the school in the heart of Los Angeles.

I had no idea what I was getting into :)

There is something truly amazing about leaving the comforts of home and well established positions and intentionally starting new. I left friends, family and a secured position in ministry at my home church. It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. But I've gotten to know the Lord in ways I never would have had I not left. The Friend and Provider, the Counselor and Defender I've found in him have so enriched my life and deepened my walk with Him.

But the process of intimately experiencing these traits of God has not been easy. It's been an exercise in faith, which, of course, I swore I had enough of before moving out here.

I come from a family that loves the outdoors and has a passion for making a garden beautiful. My mother has a fantastic green thumb. Every year she dramatically prunes her rose bushes, which is really not the most attractive process. Without an awareness of the rules in tending to a garden, it's almost depressing to see pruned bushes. But what I've found is the more dramatic the pruning, the more abundant the plant is when it blooms.

How much more does this prove true in our lives? The more the hand of our Redeemer cuts away the things that don't please Him, the things that won't bear fruit, the more fruitful we will be in due season. It's not necessarily cute to look at while it's happening and it can leave a once prideful rose bush feeling more vulnerable than she'd like, but the results are always the same: evidence of a faithful God who knows what He is doing in our lives. No home or position could ever bring that kind of comfort.

The Simple Things

2007-06-06T06:45:00.001-07:00

Three people really did read my first post! This is thrilling!

Paradox Part Deux

2007-06-05T22:22:00.000-07:00

(How often do you see the letter x two times in a three word title?)

I am blessed with fantastic friends. Most of whom I greatly admire for their witty sense of humor. This wit, in turn, brings mine out and often one phone call can turn into an hour-long round of one-liner after one-liner.

As a meta-cognitive human being, I am always catching phrases that don't make sense or simply don't fully encapsulate my intended meaning. One such phrase uttered tonight was:

"I'd be a vegetarian if I didn't love meat so much."

And there it is.

Apprehension Anonymous

2007-06-04T13:23:00.000-07:00

It is with tremendous hesitation that I am picking up my proverbial blog pen to begin writing again, in this format. Being an "all or nothing" type, blogging can quickly become too invasive a presence in my life, which is exactly why I suspended the activity when I began my master's program. See...all, or nothing. Can't devote too much time to blogging? Ditch it. :)

Who knows...I may even delete this post and pretend nothing ever happened.

A little about me. Or, more than the "About Me" section of this page, as it really reveals nothing, which is sort of the point of having a nom de plume. Of course, my picture's there. I'm full of contradictions. There's one thing about me.

Another thing about me: I love that I just used so many contractions in the last few paragraphs. I was forced to abandon such grammatical shortcuts when I began "scientific writing," which is also known as extreme torture.

I love to write, though that love may not be entirely apparent in my quick posts. But I love the English language and admire and respect those who use it well. I'm a grammar nerd, but don't hold me to too high a standard on this thing. I'm sure I will be guilty of drive-by writing.

That's enough for now.

To the three people who will read this...don't be surprised if this post is gone in the morning. ;-)