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Rachel's Blog |
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Name: Rachel
Year: Freshmen
Hometown: Bakersfield, California
Major: English
Recent Posts:
December 31, 2007: Through the Looking Glass
January 21, 2008: In the Image of God
January 31, 2008: Eyes Wide Open
February 12, 2008: One...two...sneeze!
February 24, 2008: Now and Then
March 16, 2008: Roses and Rainbows
April 9, 2008: Reform Me!
April 20, 2008: Nostalgia
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Through the Looking Glass
December 31, 2007
When I look back at my first semester of college, I almost can’t help but compare myself to a fictional, yet quite famous, girl named Alice. It was a scared young girl who started school in August. For a long time she had peered as through a window, with her nose pressed up against the glass and her breath forming small circles of fog, at a world that seemed so far away, she supposed she might never reach it. Yet, in the blink of an eye she found herself in the other side of the glass and caught up in a strange, new, wonderful world. I must confess, I don’t think the college world is quite as exciting as Alice’s, for we have no Cheshire cats or mad hatters (although a couple of the professors might be able to pass as one :o) Even still, I have at times found myself feeling scared, worried, and desperately homesick. With each new turn I take, however, I find myself making grand new discoveries and being forced more and more to depend fully on the faithfulness and surety of the sovereign LORD who directs my every step.
Truly, in spite of all my worries and frustrations, God has been my Rock, always guiding me and always teaching me. I’ve had to get used to sharing my room with three roommates, but it's taught me to compromise and try to be more flexible. I’ve had to get used to eating cafeteria food which has taught me that man does not live by bread alone… haha, just kidding, we have great food :o) I’ve realized you have a lot more work in college than you do in high school, but God has blessed me when I manage my time and work to glorify Him. I’ve had opportunities to go to Mexico, Big Bear, the broadway play Wicked, an inner city school in Pasadena, and a Derek Webb concert. I’ve been forced to step out of my comfort zone and see God at work. I’ve had great professors and awesome classmates. I’ve learned to do my laundry regularly and to wake up when my alarm goes off…. Oh wait… scratch the last one. I’ve gotten over my fear of bunk beds (If this is not something you’re interested in conquering, I would suggest you not be the very last one to arrive on move in day) and I’ve grown to be great friends with the library (Oh what a sad parting we experienced the day before I left for break. I know it mourned for me these three weeks). The greatest thing though was that every time I was stressed or overwhelmed, I’ve had a faithful God to depend on. Sometimes I got surprise packages of grace (like a letter in the mail) and sometimes it was just quiet, steady reassurances. In thinking about it, I’m glad I’m not Alice. I have an awesome heavenly Father and she had only a little white rabbit. At this point in my life, I’m eternally grateful God is faithful, I’m glad I made it through my first semester alive (I knew it was possible, but at times I definitely doubted), and I’m interested to see what this next semester will bring. Hopefully it will give me some good stuff to share!
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Terry’s hand grips his crayon as he concentrates on covering every sliver of white paper with shiny pink. Shirley tries the puzzle piece in a million different places, turning it every which direction until finally she finds the right spot, exclaims with joy, and pumps her fist in the air. Lee’s hand deftly moves across his paper as he writes his name in large letters, while frequently consulting his Elvis calendar for some unknown reason. When he’s done he looks up at me with his eyes lit up and a wide grin spread across his face. The funny thing is, Terry, Shirley, and Lee aren’t kids.
I just spent a couple of hours at a house that is part of Salem Christian Homes, an organization that provides homes for developmentally disabled adults. Since today is Martin Luther King day, Providence offered an opportunity for students to go serve at different homes. Ha. It’s funny. I went thinking, ok, this is a service project, you know, I’m being a Christian and serving others in need… but I just wound up sitting there talking to a really great, friendly man, while occasionally assisting with the construction of a Hello Kitty puzzle. Such simple things. I wasn’t building orphanages or sewing blankets for the homeless… I was just there. I learned all about Terry’s family, his plans for getting a new guitar, and I listened to his Elvis Christmas CD. On the way home I was thinking about the short time I had spent with these people and I felt humbled.
These adults who might look completely abnormal to some were made in the image of God. He formed them in their mother’s womb and he wrote every day of their lives before the foundations of the world. I have been blessed with a mind that matures and a family who cares for me, but we were all created by the same God, in the same image. The people in the home weren’t scary or weird. They were children in adult bodies. And humans. It’s so frustrating to think that people abort babies because they won’t posses the same “quality of life.” It hurts to consider that people abandon children because they are disabled. For some, they simply have no value. Why? Because they don’t see their intrinsic value. They are treasures because the Almighty considers them precious. He made them. In His image.
I hope I have more opportunities like this and that I don’t shirk from them. I pray God gives me an open heart so I might reach out and love others as I am called to do. May fear never hold us back from those who were molded by the hand of Yahweh.
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January 31, 2008
We were sixteen students standing cloistered together in the dark parking lot, casting fascinated glances at the old building that loomed in front of us. Dr. Swanson’s voice rang out and our group moved in unison towards the doors of the unknown. Inside, men with beards and yarmulkes were scattered around the room, and I almost laughed because I had forgotten how cute those “little hat things” were. We all filed into the pews in the sanctuary, filling two rows. I looked down at the book in my hand that I had been handed at the door and felt instant confusion. The book was printed backwards. Someone pointed out that Hebrew is read right to left, and some of my confusion dissipated, although I still found it odd. I turned around to look behind me and saw all of the guys from my school sitting there with little yarmulkes perched on the crowns of their heads, which absolutely just made me smile. Then the service began.
The 4-W (Weekend of Work and Worship in the World) I was experiencing was Jewish Awareness – a week of learning about, and even being immersed in, Jewish culture. It was definitely a surprising 4-W for me. Right away, the Shabbat service we attended Friday night dissolved the doubts I had been harboring about this freshman requirement. Sitting in the pew that night I realized that I had never even attended anything besides a Christian church service and here, all the sudden, I was – watching the lighting of a Menorah, listening to a man with a tambourine walk up and down the aisle leading songs sung in Hebrew, and straining to see the Torah when they opened up the ark. The music was the best part though. Even though I couldn’t for the life of me figure out the pronunciations of the words that swam on the pages in front of me, I loved clapping along and listening as the voices around me sang praises in a totally foreign language (complete with throaty, gravelly Ack sounds).
Two days later, we were up bright (ok, dreary) and early, ready to tour the Wilshire Blvd. Temple. Thankfully, my heavy, sleep-laden eyes did not prevent me from enjoying its majestic beauty. I stood in awe, with my head tipped back as far as it could go, staring up at the high dome ceiling covering the temple. Stain glass windows permitted whatever small amount of light could make its way through the gray clouds outside to shine through, huge gold doors held a commanding presence at the front of the sanctuary, graced by the presence of a small red lamp hanging over them, and on the walls was a beautiful mural documenting the history of the Jews. It was one of those things pictures could never capture. After lunch, we went to the Museum of Tolerance. In appearance, it held no comparison to the temple we had just visited, but in content, it was just as important. It was the missing portion of the history, for the mural on the wall told nothing of the Holocaust. We saw it though, even if it was just glimpses of the reality.
Sometimes I find myself amazed at how little I know and how little I have experienced. One of my favorite things about this college is that it forces me to step outside my comfort zone and into the complex world that surrounds me. In the course of just one week I experienced the lives of disabled adults and Jewish culture. How different these two things seem, yet they both hold something very much in common: they’re not me. I tend to walk around thinking everyone is exactly the same as I am, that everyone has led exactly the same life. I forget that there are people who find joy in graham crackers and others who don’t know the saving blood of Christ. No, I take that back. I don’t forget. I choose to ignore it. I prefer blindness. I choose not to take the time to understand cultures, circumstances, beliefs, and struggles. It’s shaming. I feel as though I am so enlightened right now, but I know I have barely even scratched the surface. An hour in a Jewish synagogue doesn’t make me an expert, and it doesn’t even come close to giving me the confidence to reach out to them with the truth. I’m grateful for experiences like these though. I hope they will continue and will be used to awaken me. I can’t walk through the rest of my life squinting and turning away. I have been called to awareness and action. May God open my eyes so I may see.
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February 11, 2008
I must confess, I’m surprised AirBorne has yet to come out with a college student version of its product. If they were smart, they would’ve jumped on the market a long time ago. Not that this college version should be any different – no, it should stay exactly the same, it should just be sold in bulk. Someday though, I’m sure someone will figure it out. Maybe I’ll write them a letter…
For now though, I am kept pretty busy doing homework, hanging out with friends, and keeping tabs on all the sick people so I can make sure to dodge them. It’s nothing personal you know, just a small desire for self-preservation. And I’m not alone. The other day in prayer club, someone mentioned they were feeling a little sick and the whole room parted – away from her. Then all faces looked sympathetic and nodded saying, “We’ll pray for you.”
No matter how hard you try to avoid it though, it seems like you’re going to wind up getting sick, and lo and behold, it’s going to be the day before you have a paper due or a mid-term to take. At the end of last semester I went to one of my last finals wearing bright blue sweats, with my hair wiggling in an odd bun thing on top of my head, and a box of Kleenex in my hands.
The worst part about college is that when you get sick, all you want is your bed back home, a few hundred hours of sleep, and your mom to bring you cups of Sprite. Unfortunately, college is somewhat about independence, so when you are lying there feeling like you’re about to burst into flames, your nose looks like a bright red cherry tomato, your head feels like it had your grandfather’s safe dropped on it, and swallowing is about as big of a chore as climbing Mt. Everest, the only people you have are your roommates. And they’re pretty into the whole self-preservation thing too.
Now, this piece of writing wasn’t supposed to be completely depressing… haha although reading back over what I’ve just written it sure doesn’t seem like it has a happy ending. But, I think it does. Because… Nyquil was invented! Ok, just kidding. Let me share what was actually on my mind tonight. I happen to feel kind of lousy tonight, and was pretty much wallowing in misery. A couple of things helped pull me out a little though. First, I prayed for a while. Second, I wrote my sister (I know she loves listening to me cry through email :o) Third, I listened to some great praise music. These things just reminded me: I’m not alone. Even when I think I would rather just spontaneously combust, I realize my strength doesn’t come from myself. It’s extremely comforting knowing that even when you’re no longer a little girl who’s mom comes and takes her temperature to tell her if she’s really sick, there is a Healer, a Comforter, and a Supporter who is greater than all else. He doesn’t mind listening to you pour out your soul and His hand is always there to wipe away your tears. College, in spite of its frustrations and challenges, is rewarding because it teaches me that I have to continually rely on Someone besides myself, my friends, and my family. I have to just keep reminding myself – there’s lessons to be learned even from a fever and a box of Kleenex :o)
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February 24, 2008
I love chapels. They are probably my favorite times of the week. I mean, our school gathers together to worship our LORD – how much better can it get? Not only do we get to sing, which I adore doing, but chapels are amazing to me because they are basically interruptions of my week. They are times, right in-between classes even, when I can stop and refocus by turning my attention to One far greater than myself. My worries always seem so much smaller when my eyes are trained on the glory of God. Really, this could be said about my devotions or church, but I sat down to write about chapel, so that’s what I’m going to stick with :o)
You see, it’s spring – the decision making season. One year ago I was sitting at home talking to my parents, making pros and cons lists, and praying with feelings of utter confusion and frustration as I sought to figure out which college to attend. That’s over with now, but my worries haven’t vanished. People on campus are trying to figure out if they’re coming back next year, if they’re transferring, what their major is going to be, what they want to do with their life, even shorter term things like what kind of providential job is going to appear. There’s worries and stress, as we all try to trust God, yet continually fail. Last week we had a chapel that really stuck with me though. The speaker spoke about the hidden things of life – all the things that lie in the future, unknown and unseen. He pointed out that there’s always going to be hidden things in life. We’re not going to figure out which college God wants us at, or what major will be finally stamped on our diploma, and WHOOSH! Our lives will be laid out before us. It’s kind of going to be like this the rest of our lives – trying to see enough to take just one step forward and while straining to see what lies ahead in the dark abyss. The question is: what do we do? And here’s what really stuck with me: the speaker said our job is to be obedient to the things that have been revealed to us now and to trust God for the future.
So, here I sit in a dark hallway (haha literally), remembering and being encouraged. God has hidden aspects of life from us, but has revealed many things in His Word. The things I know, I am to obey. The things I don’t know are in His hands. As easy as it is to worry about and live for the future, we have been given the present. And there is no time better than now to live as God has called us to. So, I hope this is encouraging to you, as it has been for me. May the “Spring Stress” be overwhelmed with the grace of God, and may you seek to live in obedience to God now, even as you trust Him with what will be then.
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March 16, 2008
Last night after the basketball game, a plethora of students gathered in the lounge to watch the movie Enchanted. After a time of laughter, looks of incredulity (from the guys), and chimed in singing (from the girls), I walked down my hallway singing the catchy, can’t-get-the-stinking-thing-out-of-your-mind song: That’s How You Know (it’s cute, but it really can get quite annoying…although this might be partly due to the fact that I only know two lines). As this song continued to roll around in my head, I started contemplating the lyrics a little (yes, unbeknownst to many, I do think occasionally). One of the lines of the song says, “How do I know he loves me?” and then it proceeds to talk about the sweet little things a man should do so the woman he loves knows he loves her. Well, since I don’t have a boyfriend, this song seems fairly inapplicable to me. But this morning the thought just popped into my head: How do I know God loves me? And I started thinking about yesterday and the 4-W I took to the Huntington Library and Gardens and I realized I might have learned something after all.
Basically, I love flowers. I love them pale and bright, delicate and bold, small and large. I love sticking my nose up in them and breathing in their aroma (the smell of roses is pretty much tied with the smell of books for me). So, yesterday, a day of meandering through gardens was a heavenly day. As I walked through the gardens I couldn’t help but think how awesome it is that God planted such exquisite things on this earth. You look at the budding flowers and they’re just small tokens of God’s love. Each one shouts, “Do you see my beauty? Do you see the hand of God in my perfectly carved petal, vivid color, and pleasing fragrance?” Matthew 6 tells us that we can look at the flowers and see how God cares for them and know that His provision for us is even greater. Garden after garden of flowers just serve as testimony after testimony of the love of an awesome Lord.
Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better, especially after leaving such a wonderful place, we were driving home and there in the sky was a gorgeous rainbow! I honestly do not think I have ever seen such a bright and vibrant rainbow before. And it just got better! As we kept driving, the rainbow grew and grew until we could see the entire thing… whole – from beginning to end – one stunning arc of color. I sat there just thinking about Noah and God’s covenant with him. It’s hard not to smile when God has given such beauty as a sign of His faithfulness. Just one more large representation of His love.
So today, as I’m about to start a new week, anticipating going home for Easter and many papers and finals, I’m grateful for this weekend and a pretty amazing 4-W. In the midst of a world of uncertainty, there is one thing I do not have to question. I do not need to question the perfect, unchanging, eternal love of Yahweh, for He shows me every day in a million ways. I know He loves me. |
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April 9, 2008
When I started looking at colleges, I had a pretty good idea what I wanted. I knew 1) I wanted to stay in California, 2) I wanted to attend a smaller Christian college and 3) I wanted that college to be non-denominational, Reformed, or something not too crazy. I can only laugh at myself now, because as much as I feel like my list keeping helps me at the time, in retrospect I can see that I don’t honestly know what I’m doing and God is the one who is completely in control of my life. This was made pretty clear to me when I was home for Easter a couple weeks ago and my pastor asked me how college was going. We started talking and it wasn’t long before I proclaimed, “I had absolutely no idea what a blessing it was going to be attending a Reformed college!” My pastor laughed and nodded his head as though he had known this would be the case all along.
I grew up attending a Presbyterian church, and in high school I really started to embraced Reformed doctrine. But when it came to choosing a college, while I figured a Reformed one would be nice, it was definitely not that big of a deal for me. But I got to college last semester and one of the first classes I had to take was Reformed Perspectives. I remember reading the books for that class and contemplating the lectures and calling home and excitedly telling my dad all about it. I’ve only been here almost two semesters and already I feel like my whole understanding of the implications of the Reformed faith has been expanded. Our belief of the sovereignty of God and the total depravity of man is seen in our 4-W’s, our chapels, and definitely in our classes. In fact, I’m just about to write a paper where I have to trace a theme through a book of the Old Testament and then relate it to the Reformed faith.
So, now that I’ve kind of rambled on here, let me try to reach some sort of conclusion :o) Basically, while I don’t think a non-Reformed education is wrong, if you hold to the Reformed faith, attending a Reformed college can pretty much be one of the most amazing blessings ever! I guess I’m realizing that if I’m going to be educated, and if I’m going to be educated from a Christian perspective, I might as well be educated from a perspective I am passionate about. It has caused my knowledge and my faith to grow in ways I really wasn’t expecting. Just one of God’s many surprise packages of grace :o)
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April 20, 2008
I love that word. Nostalgia. I like saying it just to hear it roll off my tongue. And then I like just letting it float around in my mind with my dreams and wistful thinking as I remember…Nostalgia is a state that turns pretty much any memory into something pleasant. So today I use that word because, as school is coming to an end, I’m letting my mind wrap around events, places, and people and remember the marks they have left on my life.
Sunday mornings are always memorable. There lies one counter, three sinks, two blow dryers, three curling irons, four straighteners, and about ten girls wandering in and out at some point or another, contemplating strategy in an attempt to get ready for church on time. We bump into each other, open cupboard doors into each others legs, drag cords across each others arms, flick our mascara wands, ask for opinions on jewelry or shoes, and resignedly relinquish our spots when we feel we look presentable. Today I stood in the bathroom and let the picture impress itself into my memory.
Saturdays are also interesting. I like to think of them as laundry days. Yesterday I finally climbed out of bed, went to get dressed, and found myself facing a mound of clothing that had somehow been subtly accumulating, and now held most of the wardrobe I was interested in wearing. So I stumbled into the laundry room and beheld two hot dryers, two shaking washing machines, and a bunch of overflowing laundry baskets sitting there, staking their claim. I could just hear them mocking me. “Ha! You fell for that trick again. You believed that Saturday morning were meant for sleeping in, hit your alarm clock, and now you have to wait your turn.” Seriously, not until your sleep deprived body sees such a depressing sight do you discover the pompous nature of laundry baskets.
Now I slowly bring myself around to the week. The times we’ve stood in chapel and bobbed our heads back and forth in order to see the words on the screen in front. The times I’ve sat at the dinner table and laughed until I could barely breathe. The times I’ve meandered slowly up and down the aisles in the library running my hands over the books, stopping every once in a while to pull one out, breathe it in, and flip through the pages. The times everyone heads up to the office to check their mail, even if we know we don’t have any. Good and bad, irritating and pleasant, I have a fond place for pretty much everything that’s happened this year. I want to savor it all. I want to laugh. It may be random. It may be stupid. But it’s a piece of a great puzzle: my freshman year of college. I have entered a period of nostalgia.
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