stepping down

About a week ago I had the chance to speak at a camp for the week. Back when I started enjoying the chance to teach, I wondered what it would be like to get to do something like this. It was a great experience and awesome to get to focus on doing all the things I love, teaching and having fun with kids, while not having to worry about the stuff I hate, details of all kinds. It also felt good to get a lot of good feedback. It was a good week and I truly believe that God worked in exciting ways in many lives.

That said it was also a hard week. It is hard to live on a pedestal and know that most people do not know the real you. You can be really real as a teacher and yet even then the 'realness' that people see is carefully chosen so as to let people into your life but not to make them overly uncomfortable. Plus for that short of a time and plenty of chances to get away I had the chance to try and put on my best face.

This experience made me realize the imperative nature of true community. We all, at least I, need a place where people know the real me and despite that, love me. But not as someone on stage but as a real human who has gifts and weaknesses and who wants to love God but more often then not falls far short. Even as I write this down I realize the temptation that getting my thoughts out this way might falsely fill this need. I need other people.

Last week was awesome and I would love to get the chance again but I am pretty sure I could never do something like that full-time. I don't think I could handle it. It is good to be home.

so many babies

I am finally taking the time to post a new blog and all the ideas that went through my head that past few days now seem of little interest. I guess I will write about giving birth to my second child.

I would not call myself a runner if by some chance a person asked. I say that because runners are very strange people. They are all tall and thin and have predisposition towards being overachievers in all areas of life. These are sick people who take great joy in putting themselves through pain and for what? They are like the father in Calvin and Hobbes who sees vacations in the rain as character building and the breakfast food of choice naturally being oatmeal. This is my father as well. But I digress. As I said I do not think of myself as a runner but after a series of events I found myself running a marathon last fall in Milwaukee.

This was quite the feat for me but I must admit finishing it did not provide the sort of exhilaration that I was hoping for. Somehow I had pictures in my mind of crossing the finish line and getting the greatest adrenaline rush I have ever had. Sadly this did not happen. It was more like having a baby. Okay okay settle down ladies, you are right I have no idea what that is like and I never will. All I know is that it was a good feeling but that there was a lot of pain and that part was no fun. Then there was an emotional low afterwards as I tried to figure out what dedicate myself to next. Back in the fall I swore that I would never do it again.

Then thanks to a friend who said she wanted to run a marathon I decided to go for it again. Stupid Jon. But then she backed out about four weeks into the training but since dues had been paid there was no reason to back out now. So last week I finished my second marathon and I must say I think it was like having a second kid. This one popped out with much less pain. (note to self, I think I just hurt my chances at dating again with that last sentence) I felt better within a couple of days and the idea of yet one more does not sound all that bad. Now if only I could grow a bit and get real skinny I too could be a runner.

why cant you understand me?

I have now been back home for a couple of days and things are starting to get back to 'normal'. Coming back from meaningful trips are always hard for a period of time. You have all these great stories, at least great in my mind, and no one really cares. Not that I can caste judgment for this as I do the very same thing. "How was the trip?" which means, tell me it was good and we can move on to other topics, like how much you like my new shoes. But since this is a blog I can write my stories and toss them into the magical world known as the internet.

One of my favorite things about being in a foreign culture is all the interesting situations that arise thanks to the language difference. For example being 'yelled' at for trying to get into a women's only tea house when I speak zero Turkish. However one of the things that makes me sad about being an American is how we think we have the gift of tongues and can speak any given language. If only we speak slow enough and loud enough, any good person will understand us and know that of course we want a FREE refill of soda at the local cafe, even if that is something that country does not do anywhere. Our team and I were guilty of this sin at least a few times and to be honest it is hard not to do when not thinking. It makes sense that American's have developed a reputation of being loud and rude. It is all too often true. But I really think the truth is that we are not trying to be rude, it is just that we have not taken the time to learn another culture or speak a different language.

This then makes me think of the church. The American church seems to often act like a foreign tourist. It has something to say but it does not understand the culture it is in. It has not taken the time to speak the language. Therefore it tries to express the love of Jesus and the need for forgiveness but it comes across as loud, irrelevant and judgmental. It may not really be these things, at least at its core, but it knows no way to express the Truth in any form that can be understood by the 'locals'.

It is time for the church to be a counter culture that has a deep understanding of the culture it exists in and can speak its language. How else can we communicate the hope of the world?

Now, CAN...I...HAVE....A...CHEESE....BURGER.... PLEASE!!! Thank God I know French.