Why So Silent?

It's another busy day in Grantham. Rainy too. And dark. And chilly. But it is also a blessed day, don't you think? Simply because it is. I like to think of every moment as a gift. Every breath that I breathe, in and out non-stop since I was born, is really quite a privilege.

The world is a painful place. People suffer and people die. All the time. Turn on the news for a matter of minutes and you'll be exposed to more sadness and tragedy than one could possibly deal with. The BBC One-Minute World News is a prime example. It helps me to watch at the peak of my preoccupation -- with homework, errands, planning, email, work. As the dismal montage of misfortune and disaster streams across my screen with characteristic newsroom indifference, suddenly that pressing assignment doesn't seem so stressful. As I watch violent protests and floods, maybe work tonight won't be so bad after all.

Depressing? Certainly. Reality? Unfortunately.

So what? Well, this is somehow connected to my absence from the blogosphere this past semester. Let me explain.

People talk. Images flash. News comes in. People talk more. As a chapel speaker said boldly, though ironically, during a recent message, "I'm tired of all the talk." He was a Yale academic and director of some world missions research program. His message was excellent, but I especially appreciated his acknowledgment that when tragedy hits and uncertainty arises, the favoured response is to talk. Especially in Christian culture, but I feel it's a universal condition.

In my negligence of my own blog, I've become a fairly regular reader of a number of other blogs, from the New York Times, to Christian leaders, to professors. Everywhere I click, someone else has an incredibly insightful, intriguing opinion. A critique of the church here. An opinion on current events there. Maybe even a plan for changing the world somewhere. I love reading these inspiring posts, and I love engaging in the discussion that follows.

However, I've simultaneously been studying much more about society in the world at large. I've been listening to sermons on suffering as well, trying to make sense of the God I strive to know, a God of love and compassion and justice, and the horrible injustice that occurs all the time. Just a second ago someone died alone and forgotten. And another.

So where are God's followers during all of this? I just hope we're not missing our chance to take the Gospel to a world that needs its healing power because we're too busy reading about how we should be doing more.

Is the correct Christian response to talk ... or maybe to act? Obviously, in this information age a persuasive post or convicting message can go a long way to stir people's hearts. But, as Jesus himself pointed out, we're judged on how we live, not what we say.

So that's why I've been slow to blog recently. Well, that and I just haven't had as much free time. But I am simply trying to discover how my life can count for something in the world. If each moment is a gift, do I spend the available ones writing about what I should do, or just doing it?

So the obvious question now that I'm replacing all that cheap talk with heroic radical action, then, is: How many lives have I saved? How much hunger have I alleviated? To put it simply, what have I done for the least of these?

Well, you've got me there. You'll also notice how there are probably more question marks than periods in this post. That's because I'm not pretending to speak with any real authority. I'm just a seeker who has found the greatest Truth and the Eternal Way ... but I'm seeking further nonetheless.

Thanks for being here!
jmb

A Night with DC

In case you were wondering, I haven't completely forgotten.

Schoolwork has been exceptionally busy the past few weeks. That, coupled with various other changes in life, haven't really allowed much time for public reflection. But the world moves on at a rapid pace, and I continually realize that without intentional times of reflection, life will simply pass me by. Every experiences yields a thousand opportunities for reflection and consideration. Too bad there are a thousand experiences.

A group of us went to a David Crowder Band concert on Sunday. Smack dab in the middle of Bible-belt Lancaster, PA, the sold-out concert attracted an audience of youth groups, families, grandparents, children, and even a few plain-dress Mennonites (or some form of Amish). What is it, I wondered, about David Crowder's signature blend of electro-pop-dance-rock-anthemic worship music that draws such crowds? And as with all such Christian concerts, I wondered where the glory would be given -- to the performers who write music explicitly praising the God of all heaven, or to the subject of the praise, God himself.

To be sure, David Crowder and friends put on a kickin' concert. Their equipment and gadgetry alone is enough to gawk at for hours as each instrumentalist spent nearly as much time fiddling with laptops and synthesizers as playing their usual instruments. There were songs to dance to, jokes to laugh at, fists to pump, guitar solos to applaud, and even hands to raise in worship. For such a talented group, I wonder sometimes where that fine line falls between a sold-out show to applaud the songwriting skills of a goofy-goteed rockstar and a house packed with Christ-followers eager to worship God. Do we flock to David Crowder (and like artists) to glorify David Crowder or glorify God?

Or, can we bring God praise by appreciating the undeniable skills that God has blessed David Crowder with, particularly when he is using those skills to glorify God to the best of his ability?

In other news, I'm launching a full-scale investigation of the will of God for my life. Actually, I'm really just wondering what God's will is for his people everywhere. So far, all I know is that it's for something radical, and it definitely looks a lot different than what the world wants from me.

More on that later.

Okay, it's back to the books.
Love.

So What?

You might have notice that it's been a while since my last post. I sure have.

In my defense, I've been fairly busy. It's definitely a "good" kind of busy, but, then again, can any busyness that diverts my attention from my loyal readers be of any good at all? Doubtful.

Anyways, how are you? If you are reading this and haven't talked to me directly in a while (I'm lookin at you, grandparents, aunts, and uncles), please send me an email. I'd love to hear from you!

Life is good. I suppose I always say that, but then I suppose it's always true. Many recent activities, including studying the flaws and issues plaguing modern society (Sociology 101, Mass Media & Society) have certainly afforded me a new appreciation for my present situation. More specifically, I'm continually floored by God's blessings to me.

Why me? I might ask. My life, as it stands currently, is overflowing with potential. I have resources to study nearly anywhere in the world, devote as much time to leisure as I desire, and spend hours deliberating over my future.

For so many, their futures are decided before they are even born.

But I suppose mine was too, then. I was born into a world saturated in opportunities. If something impairs my pursuit of happiness, away with it! Thanks to a comfortable financial cushion and a devoted network of 'encouragers', I can do nearly anything I set my mind to.

So what about the rest of the world? By far the majority, their circumstances leave them helpless to do anything but live one day to the next. They may set their minds to all they can ever imagine, but for many this is futile.

I don't mean to be cynical, and I don't mean to generalize at all. But as I sit here on the 'precipice of potential' with a world before me waiting to be encountered and conquered, I can't help but feel sorry for all those left behind, for no fault of their own.

I find, then, that this awareness of my bountiful blessings leaves me with an incredible responsibility. I believe that we are to do our best to serve God wherever he places us on Earth. Whether it is in Grantham, PA or the slums of Mumbai, God's people are to live as Christ-like as possible. So then what do the Christians in Grantham, PA, with the world at their fingertips, do for the saved (and unsaved) in the slums, whose influence in the world seems to reach no further than their immediate surroundings?

With great power comes great responsibility. Thanks, Spiderman. Spidey uses his powers, that naturally set him apart and above his neighbours, to help those in need. And let us not forget that there is such great power in the name of Jesus as well. Perhaps not web-slinging, wall-crawling powers, but powers of a more spiritual, eternal nature.

So what do we do with our power?

Climb the corporate ladder? Get rich? Hide behind white picket fences until Sunday morning?

I can't help but feel like we have a greater purpose. Something that drives us to live radically. We are united with the Creator of the universe, soveriegn over all things. Shouldn't that set us apart?

That's all for late night rambling. Austin is back so now I can go to sleep.
Peace,
jmb

Tuesday Talk

I like writing in public places. Or just sitting in public places, for that matter, in a position where I can observe. It's fun to watch the interactions of large groups or the dynamics of an intimate conversation between close friends. Like right now in the Union.

It helps me get more work done too. I might even say the quiet rhythm of students coming and going and the gentle din of conversation are soothing. When your mind is contemplating things far beyond your own little world, the visual distraction of people embracing the present is quite comforting.

I had the wonderful privilege of volunteering twice last week. At Bethesda Men's Shelter I helped with the soup line and met a few very interesting people. Then the next day I went back into Harrisburg to help teach ESL. Both experiences were incredible for so many reasons, and also only the firsts of many similar opportunities.

There was a remarkable young man at Bethesda who I had the immense privilege of chatting with for 20 minutes over steaming chili and pre-packaged sandwiches. If every conversation I had in a day was as inspiring as that one, I don't think I could handle it. After hitting "rock bottom" only a month ago, the man found his way to the shelter where he accepted Christ within a couple days.

With a grin that didn't disappear for the entire duration of our talk, he told me all about where he'd been and where he's come. Interestingly, he barely spoke at all about his life before being saved, as if it didn't even matter in light of the hope he had know found. And what hope and joy he has! "It's so beautiful," he muttered between mouthfuls.

As expected, it got me thinking. It is beautiful. Why do we forget that so easily? God is beautiful. Creation is beautiful. The story of our redemption is as beautiful as it gets. My new friend knows this. He shows it. So should I. This guy really isn't that different from me. Despite the fact that he's been in and out of prison multiple times, been caught up with all sorts of substances I couldn't even recognize, and now lives in a men's shelter, we serve the same God and have been saved from the same certain death.

That's the body of Christ for you -- bringing the most unlikely of acquaintances together in the most glorious and eternal unity.

I'm off to help with ESL again tonight. It's interesting how I go to teach but intend to learn. Because that really is where you learn: in the world beyond your own. In the eyes of a capitalist society, these people we work with don't have much to offer, but in God's eyes (and consequently the eyes of his followers) they have so much worth.

There's a world out there in need of God's love. As I was reminded during an evening service I help with on Sunday, there is always more love to be shown. We will never fill our quota, and thank God he won't either. Let's not be satisfied.

JMB

p.s. I'm published!
p.s.s. It'll get better. You have to start somewhere.

Untitled

The tiny town of Grantham, PA is once again coming to life. Students and teachers alike are bustling about with greater activity, already feeling the weight of deadlines and obligations. Classes are becoming interesting but not yet overwhelming. Best of all, extracurricular activities are getting underway.

Let me just say that I love extracurriculars. Between the recent opportunities fair and ice cream social for community service, I’ve signed up for more than I can remember. It’s unfortunate, really, how obtrusive classes become when there are so many other valuable options for our time. . . This year I’ll be doing the following things on a somewhat regular basis: writing for the school paper (The Swinging Bridge), working again for Phonathon, leading common chapels, working a few hours a week doing set-up and tear-down for chapel, helping with an evening church start-up on campus, volunteering with an ESL program in Harrisburg, and being a casual member of Psych club and Human Rights Awareness group. Now, I don’t say any of that to boast, but to inform you so you can be excited with me. It’s going to be a good year. I know it. And right now I’ve still had plenty of time for tossing Frisbees in the sunny September air.

I’m also looking forward to some of my classes. Mass Media and Society is exactly what it sounds like, but we’ve already had some good discussions and read some really thought-provoking articles. Principles of Sociology, although it starts at 8 AM, is also really fascinating already. Between the two of them, I’ve already been forced to think a lot about societal trends and norms; what defines them and how do they impact us?

Here’s a thought. Is truth ever defined by culture? So many things that we in the West take as common sense fact are not seen the same way around the world. For instance, let’s take a look at romantic love. It’s a completely different concept for us than it is for a lot of the world. We stress finding your true “soulmate” and fighting for love at all costs. We decry arranged marriages and weep for women with such bleak destinies; if only they could experience the freedom we have – a freedom that all are yearning for. The reality is, however, that millions of young women are married off every year to men much older than them, often as nothing more than transactions for business partnerships. As our jaws drop and our fists clench ready to defend the cause of these oppressed women, we need to remember that it was in this exact cultural context that our Bible was written.

All I’m saying is that often I feel like we need to distance ourselves from our own cultural understandings – a difficult task if we’ve never known anything different. Many people see aranged marriage as the ultimate injustice; how could anyone find happiness in such circumstances!? In our minds, in our understanding of truth, arranged marriage is bad. It impairs our pursuit of happiness. Well, millions of women do live in such circumstances and, dare I say, they probably aren’t completely miserable.

On another note, we had a discussion in Mass Media yesterday about different forms of technology. The conversation rapidly declined into another debate about the iPhone versus Blackberry. As I sat between the heated exchange with my trusty stone age phone in hand, I just couldn’t help but think, It doesn’t matter!

Honestly, I find it very interesting how these pieces of technology that were mere prototypes in a lab only a few years ago are now seen as necessary. Do we forget that for the last, oh, 6000 years of human history nobody even had email? The horror! And yet civilization trudged on, fueled by a few clever thinkers in a population of dejected citizens yearning for the day that they would be able to check their email on the go. Thank goodness for those inventors who shook off the shackles of their technological ignorance to strive for that glorious light at the end of a dark tunnel, that day when we could bring Facebook with us in our pockets. Oh, how miserable they must have been.

It’s quite relieving, actually, to not be caught up in the technology race. Well, actually I suppose we’re all in it to some degree. Let’s just not let it consume us. Especially as Christians.

I played in chapel this morning for the first time. It went really well. I got to play a djembe for this fun African-style song we did, and then just sand and played for the others. One interesting thing, though, I had a ton of people approach me throughout the rest of the day to say, “Good job this morning!” To be honest, that makes me a little uncomfortable. I’d rather hear them say, “Thanks for leading us in worship,” or something to that effect. The last thing I want to do up there is make a praiseworthy “performance.” Oh well. What can you do.

You’ll hear from me again soon. I promise.

jmb

Reflections on the Past and Future

Dear world,

Summaries are a difficult thing. Especially when, say, you encounter a friend you haven't seen in three months and your first verbal exchange is, "How was your summer?" Similar to pre-summer interactions with home friends, post-summer interactions with college friends must also be crudely reduced. I've found a simple "incredible" to be a sufficient (and truthful) response to such questions. Life, as it should be, is a daily whirlwind of challenge, growth, experience, and change, not something that can be aptly recapitulated in a brief word. The complexity of a human mind and soul is so deep that we can often barely understand ourselves, so think for a moment about the vastness of a God that can see and understand billions of minds simultaneously. ... Phew, this is getting deep.

I've been longing for the chance to write here for a while now. It's my arena for exploring the world around me and making sense of change external and internal. As always, I'm very grateful that you are reading this; I don't pretend to have anything new or profound to say, but I hope you can learn from what I've been learning. So now, as I sit in a new chair at a new desk in a new room in a new building on the same campus for the start of a new year, I'm going to write some more sounds of settling. (Clever, eh?)

The past summer was spent in part working at North Toronto Christian School and then back at camp. Throughout it all, as I always hope, I learned a lot. My responsibilities at NTCS were as diverse as possible. In any given day I might lead junior praise time in the gym, help the Junior Kindergarten class with paper mache, take the grade 2s out for extended recess, teach grade 6 gym, spend a couple hours cutting grass, collect and move garbage, mark standardized tests, and end the day selling popsicles. But I loved (nearly) every minute of it.

I returned to Camp Ke-Mon-Oya for my fourth summer as a counsellor. It was definitely the best so far. There is little I can say now to do justice to such an experience, but I can say that what really made it great was seeing God work in, around and through me. I went into the summer with strong resolutions to be devoted to the Word and prayer even in the midst of such a busy and tiring evironment. With that as a central focus, I was hoping I would find myself with more energy motivation to really impact the kids' lives. Ultimately, I wanted to be more selfless, and in hindsight I really felt like I was empowered to be just that.

Cabin devotions are every afternoon. Some quick math tells me that I've led nearly 80 since I became a counsellor. Some quick remembering shows me that very few of those have been as effective as they could have been. I was really struck this year (much thanks to Tyler for this) by how important it really is to share the Gospel. In my knowledge of God and his plan of salvation I hold the greatest gift the world could ask for and only truth it needs. How can I keep from sharing such a thing everywhere I go? Additionally, I get campers every week who have never heard the Gospel message and who do not come from Godly homes. What an opportunity! So I began to share the Gospel (as well as I can) to all my campers, young and old. Long story short, I saw three 10-year olds (two from non-Christian homes) commit their lives to Jesus and 8 or 9 teenagers really delve into the Scriptures and explore their faith like they never had before.

The latter example saw me scrambling for answers to some really tough questions, but it also showed me that God desires those kids' hearts more than I can even understand. So often we find ourselves acting ashamed of the Gospel, not because we don't believe its message, but because we simply don't know what to say. Well, let us never forget that we are not alone, especially when we are sharing God's truth. He wants to speak through us and He does. I actually found myself learning just from the things that were coming out of my mouth in my discussions with some of my older cabins. One powerful example concerns a 15-year old that I had for two weeks. His only sister is a third-year philosophy student at U of T who completely renounced her faith last year and has since been harrassing him nearly non-stop for the family faith that he still clings to. In the midst of our discussions, God prompted me to share the story of Stephen martyred for his faith, where I stumbled across Acts 6:8. "But they could not stand up to his wisdom or the Spirit by which he spoke." We were both encouraged and reminded that we are not defending an empty faith or textbook list of arguments, but that the God of Heaven and Earth is on our side, empowering us with wisdom and a Spirit that cannot be defeated.

So from the riding lawnmower to raising 15-year old believers, I'd say I had my share of memorable experiences. And if a summer (or any amount of time for that matter) can be judged by what you learn and experience, then I'd say this was a good one. You could even say, "incredible."

All of this concluded, then, only a week ago. Since then, I've moved countries once again, exchanged one set of companions for another, and embarked once again on another life-changing journey through my sophomore year.

All the growth and learning I've experienced lately has got me asking, "Now what?" Everything I learn about God and the challenges I endure will be evidenced only by visible growth and change. My biggest question, then, is what does the life of a college sophomore on fire for God look like? The life of a Christian anywhere must be markedly different from the world surrounding, but even on a campus full of believers, there must be a difference between those who profess faith and those who live a faith that is alive. My faith is alive, because the God I have faith in is very much alive.

I watched a Paul Washer sermon the other day on being a man of God. As Christian men of God, he said, we are not made to live like other men. We are conquerors who must not rest while there remains a place that God is not worshipped. We were not made to sit in front of a television set. We were not made for passions of the world. We are to have a singular passion for Christ, and being made into his image.

I'll be listening to (and reflecting on) many more sermons in the next few weeks probably. It's going to be a good weekend, reuiniting with old friends and observing the freshmen in all their awkwardness, huddling together for social comfort and scouting every crowd for potential new friends. Oh, how I remember the day.

Anyways, I should move on to other things now. I've been working on this more or less all afternoon, constantly interrupted by a steady stream of new arrivals with vans ready to be unloaded and arms to be embraced. As always, there is much more to be said and much more to learn. I pray for time for both.

Be blessed, all.
jmb

Still Joshing

Greetings, oft-neglected realm of the blog.

I've been putting this off for too long. To be honest, I've thought about writing a new post nearly every day for a couple of weeks now, but I just haven't made time for it. Not that I've had a lot of time, though. Well, I have had a lot of time, but it's been filled with work at North Toronto Christian School, time with Katrina and family, church commitments, catching up with old friends and trying to stay in touch with new new ones, etc.

Writing this blog feels different now. The incredible blur of growth and experience that was my first year has come and gone. I can't help but wonder if the readers that frequented this page to glean insight into a life unfolding will still stop by for a peek. Will those who loved to "read the sounds of settling" still humour the profound and petty musings of an adolescent mind?

Perhaps. Not to worry, though, because I write here as much for my own enjoyment as anyone else's. As usual, I've had plenty of shockingly insightful thoughts lately but my own selfishness has prevented the world at large from benefiting. Ha.. just kidding, but I do miss writing here, my personal repository of thought. Oh well. Enough of the regretful ramblings.

Life is grand. It was tough to adjust to life back at home at first. After a year of gaining independence and growing spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and a few other "ally's", it was a strange feeling to slip right back into the same routine I left. I drive to "work" with Emily and Sam, spend the day at the same school surrounded by many people I grew up with, come home to the same evening routine and dinner, then go to bed and do it all over again. Obviously there are a few major differences, but I sometimes feel conflicted trying to frantically "prove" to the world that I've changed, I really have! I feel like my perspectives, concerning both my faith and just life in general, have been enriched and widened in so many ways and it's discouraging to feel like it never happened.

That's all for now. Regardless of whether or not anybody reads this, I'll likely write another post soon. I have a lot of thoughts on facebook I've been meaning to "publish." It's fun to organize your thoughts in a public forum like this. It's encouraging to think that people care about your thoughts.

Oh. One thing quick. I changed my major from Communications to Psychology (Bachelor of Science). I'm just way more interested in people and why we do what we do than I ever was in Communication Theory.

Thanks for everything!
jmb

Tomorrow, Tomorrow

Tomorrow it all ends.
The first year of the craziest adventure of my life comes to a close.
Am I sad? Definitely.
Am I eager to be home and greet all that awaits me there? Absolutely.

Thanks for bearing with me through it all. My time for reflection will be unfortunately brief this summer, but I'm sure I'll have plenty to say at some point.

Necesito estudiar para mi examen final de espanol. (That probably wasn't even correct.)

See you on the other side!
God bless you all,
jmb

Divinely Disturbed

It's like God took an eggbeater to my ambition.

What was, only a few days ago, an evolving blueprint for college and beyond has become a disorganized mess of dreams and desires. All my self-guided plans for the next few years were finally starting to make sense, when God reached down with a divine finger and gently disturbed the calm that was finally beginning to settle. The funny thing, though? I'm more certain than ever of what I want.

It's all started with this book, you see. It's called Red Moon Rising, written by Pete Greig, one of the 'founders' of the 24-7 prayer movement that has been sweeping through colleges and churches around the world. It's part memoir, part devotional, part historical, but it's ALL inspiring. He recounts his own meaningless wanderings through Europe, as an ambitious and skeptical university grad -- a trek that finally led him to the cliffs of Portugal at the most southwestern point in Europe. There he encountered God in a way he never thought he would through a vision of thousands of young men and women around the world praying with arms outstretched. The book is the story of the fulfillment of that vision (a process that is far from ending), from the moment it was birthed almost 20 years ago to the present.

I found the book when I impulsively decided to swing by the campus prayer chapel a few weeks ago with a couple friends. We prayed about the issue of conflict diamonds in West Africa and then separated to wander around the room. The dimly lit basement room is sparsely furnished and small, but I love it. To me, it feels alive. It's like an underground cavern where busy college students can retreat from their hectic lives for a moment of quiet before the cross. There are papers for scribbling prayers, a kneeling bench, lamps, chairs, an miniature prayer wall, paintings hung on the walls, and, best of all, a table with a few scattered books and Bibles.

The first time I picked up the book to read, I was transported. I wrote a blog entry, actually, that very same night after reading and praying for nearly an hour. I never published it, though. It reads more like a journal entry, but I might post it sometime in the future when enough time has elapsed that I can look back with the wisdom of age and lightly mock the frantic musings of my youth. Anyways, I've ventured back to the prayer room a few times over the past couple weeks to read more. Drifting out of a group of friends to go read, I feel like a child sneaking to the cookie jar after the lights are off and Mom and Dad are asleep. I'm alone with only time for God to speak to me. And he has. What can I do, but offer this heart, oh God, completely to you?

Recognize those words? Nestled within one of my favorite worship songs, riding on a ponderous melody supported by clever rhymes, these words are finally starting to mean something to me. I can't recall how many times I've sung them, with never more than a passing thought to the signficance. Now, however, they seem to echo my own thoughts with profound clarity.

Honestly, what can I do but offer my heart to God. He is not just a crutch when I'm weak, a chum when I'm lonely or a doctor to heal me, he is quite simply the God of the Universe. Without him there is nothing, absolutely nothing. The Milky Way Galaxy, for all its billions of stars, is a speck in the universe. What am I, then? Physically speaking, I am a sack of flesh with opposable thumbs and inflated ego (as Dr. Schenk would say), but in God's eyes, for whatever unknowable reasons, I am somebody. I am a cherished child of God who finds all my hope and strength and being in him.

I struggle to really articulate these things, because this is really something developing within me: something that cannot be formulated or defined. All year long, I've been struggling to make sense of what God wants from me. 'Everything,' my upbringing tells me. Fine, but what does that look like?

It starts within, God's been telling me. It starts with a heart so in love with God that prayer is not a chore, it is a joy. Reading the Word of God is not a part of our daily checklist, it is our glorious opportunity to delve into God's heart and hear him speak. How often do we cry out to hear God's voice when we have a book of his own words gathering dust on our bookshelves?

I've felt simultaneously discouraged and encouraged at times this year to hear of the growth and spiritual maturing taking place in some of my friends lives, often in the midst of great hardship, as my own life glides forward and a wonderfully comfortable pace. Where are the results in my own life? I've asked God.
"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing," he tells me. So I'm a branch and I would like some fruit. God's the vine and he can supply the nutrients for more fruit than I can handle. What does he require? For me to be connected, not by a few dangling threads or periodic devotion, but solid and unmovable.

I hope that you don't think I have all the answers from reading this. On the contrary, even my own writing is challenging me. All I'm really certain of right now is that God is stirring something within me. He used a half-hearted visit to a prayer room and a book I'd only heard of to begin to shake me up.

My peers and friends have challenged me too. The stories and faith of some inspire me, while the apathy and spiritual complacency of others spur me to be more radical. For example, the other day I woke up for chapel that was not required of me. At breakfast, people asked why I was going, and when I told them it was just because I wanted to, I was met with quizzical stares and skepticism: "Oh.. really? Why?"

Personally, I don't see what is so terrible about gathering with other believers to worship and be fed from Scripture and teaching. Sure, it may be boring at times, but if I learn even one thing, or sing one word and mean it, or hear one Bible verse in a different light, is it not worthwhile? I'm not trying to spiritually elevate myself above my peers, but I hope that maybe my own enthusiasm for corporate worship and fellowship might encourage someone else.

If you came to this page looking for a factual update on my activities and are, as of yet, still not satisfied, I partially apologize. I would not and cannot change what has been happening in my heart, and am powerless to prevent such things from overflowing. I will, however, try to update briefly.

School is wrapping up. My first year of college is sighing its last heavy breath before a tidal wave of obligations fills the void. (I hope you enjoy reading my confused metaphors as I enjoy composing them.) This past week has actually been pleasantly light in comparison with the previous few weeks, at least in the homework department. The Spitfire Grill (the musical on campus for which I was playing the in the pit band) ended on Tuesday night amidst many bittersweet tears. I really had a blast participating and I'd love to do it again. However, as disturbed as my plans currently are, I still doubt I will be around for another musical until senior year.

I realized I never really explained myself earlier. Let me try to do so briefly, although I will undoubtedly revisit the topic soon. I've always really longed to travel. Admittedly, I haven't done a lot of it outside North America, but I've always fancied myself to be the fearless travelling type who will someday play with orphans in India before disappearing like Aslan to emerge alongside indigenous tribes in the Amazon. Though this is highly unlikely, it's something I can't really ignore. I feel like many people have a desire to travel and experience other cultures and they do ignore the urge, living the rest of their days in regret.

Well, now more than ever I feel that call, and now more than ever I have the capacity to respond. There's a budding excitement in my heart about one place I've never been and will probably never have the chance to go again: China. Stay tuned.

As you can see, my attempts to explain myself as if from a third-person perspective never work. I've been busy, but not too busy. I've been learning a lot. I've been challenged. And this, as always, is only the beginning.

Love and thanks,
jmb

A Brief Report

An update...

Today was Messiah's annual Service Day. There are no classes, and students are encouraged to join an on- or off-campus service project. I helped out with the Special Olympics, hosted here at Messiah. I was "buddied" with a little boy named Byron. He was a bundle of energy and a lot of fun to be with all day. His parents were around too and were incredibly nice. If I get a chance, I'd love to write more.

Tonight is also the opening night for the Messiah Spring Musical, The Spitfire Grill. I am playing acoustic guitar in the pit band. We've had three dress rehearsals this week and there are six performances ahead, every day until Tuesday.

The day after our closing performance is the night of the Men's Ensemble concert. This afternoon will be our last practice, right before my call time for the show at 7.

Going in the other direction, Friday night was the Relay for Life here at Messiah. It was 12 hours (7 pm - 7 am) of walking and deteriorating coherency. By morning, even the notion of breakfast got us into furious fits of giggles. Thank you so much to all of you that donated. I raised over $100 dollars!

Saturday night The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was playing on campus. It was a vast departure from F. Scott Fitzgerald's original short story of the same title. A highly romanticized tale as much about the emergence and decline of Brad's beauty as the tragic story of a man utterly alone, it definitely worked wonders on me. Cate Blanchett is amazing.

Classes are going well. I was really busy with schoolwork the past two weeks, but this week, finally, is not too bad.

What I have been missing, however, is sleep. I'm practically dozing at the screen right now, so I'm going to hop in bed and have a quick nap before my busy evening. Opening night, here we come!

Thanks for reading. Sorry for the irregularity.
jmb

April Showers...

I used to think that April showers brought May flowers. Then I moved to Central Pennsylvania. Here, showers and flowers appear simultaneously. What do you know!?

Anyways, the rain is pattering on the window, birds are chirping gleefully, and some malfunctioning alarm is screaming across the parking lot. I'm writing, in part, to give myself a break from the unfortunate amount of schoolwork I've been subjected to this week. I was about to write a post on Sunday, but I made a list of upcoming assignments/tests instead. As the list grew longer, the Sunday blog faded further into oblivion. Since then I've been chiseling away at the list little-by-little, and I finally have a moment to relax a little.

If your interested in seeing the fruits of my labour, check this out. I've been working on this website for the past few weeks, but it was due on Tuesday.

Music In Toronto -- A Website Designed by Josh Boden

Modest, I know, but I don't profess to be gifted technologically or artistically. I also had a short Magazine piece due Tuesday, an essay and a large Spanish assignment due this morning, another Computers assignment for tomorrow, and lastly, like icing on the cake, I have two major tests on Friday.

Why do I write all this? Why, so you will shake your heads and click your tongues in sympathy, of course! Actually, I'll confess that I really don't have much else to write about this time around.

*(Hold on. I'm running down to put my laundry in the dryer.)

Life is tough sometimes... especially when you're on your own. Moms help. Everything is better with moms. They're free too. Around here you have to do things yourself and pay for them. God bless mothers.

Work at Phonathon is going pretty well. To be honest, I don't much look forward to going to work, but every time I get there I enjoy myself. When I'm not cordially coercing alumni and parents into donating, I'm chatting with the other callers over the repetitive drone of rings and answering machines. There are some calls that can be quite unsettling, though.

Last night I called a gentlman by the name of Bruce Hoyer. He picked up sounding tired and disinterested, immediately causing me to assume he was either going to politely decline my first ask or just hang up before I got there. As it turns out, his wife was on her deathbed in the next room. She'd been suffering from severe esophageal cancer and her throat was closing up. The man was one of the most kind and sincere people I've talked to, but his heart was just broken. He politefully answered all my questions and explained his situation as I stammered condolences and affirming sighs. Near the end of the call he actually started praying: for his wife, his daughter, and me. Suffice it to say that when it came time to ask for a donation, I asked quickly for any possible support and then hastily explained that he shouldn't feel obligated. Surprisingly, he said he'd think about it and asked me to call him back tonight. I told him I'd pray for his wife; by all means, you can pray too. Her name is Shirley Hoyer. I'll let you know what happens.

Ahem.. so, shifting gears here:
On Saturday I went to New York City again on an honors trip. Why is it significant that it was an honors trip? It's not, actually.

Tangent:
In fact, I find this whole "honors" label to be problematic. There's this silent distinction between 'honors' kids and everyone else. At honors meetings, you run into people who will say things like, "I had no idea that you were an honors student! Wow!" I have yet to figure out what that means, but in the meantime I've felt like the label can produce some form of intellectual snobbery. In reality, I know many people who work harder and arguably seem more intelligent than an "honors" student. I've even heard a few honors kids saying things like, "I know I'm more intelligent than most of my class, so I'm not too worried about this test." Give me a break. Many people asked me why I was going to New York and why they hadn't heard about the trip. Gingerly I explained that the trip was for honors students only, soliciting responses as diverse as a soft sigh and look of admiration or a bold, 'So you're one of them, huh?' The only distinction, as far as I can tell, is a slightly higher SAT score and much more pressure to succeed.

Resuming post:
So this trip was really fun. I spent the day with a few guys that I don't often hang out with, but they're all really great guys. We wandered through Times Square and surrounding area, ate in Little Italy, bought sunglasses in Chinatown, wandered through Soho and NYU, strolled through Central Park, browsed the massive gift shop at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and ate at Applebees in Midtown Manhattan. Yours truly was the trip guide. Beats my why you would trust a Canadian for directions in New York City, but I sure enjoyed it!

Friday, after my two tests, is the big spring dance (aka. Spring Fling). On Saturday our floor is hosting a big party (just for the heck of it) open to all students. We're not sure how we'll fit 200 people (or more) in our lounge, but if you're planning on making an appearance (yes, all of you are invited), dress lightly and remember it's "A Black and White Affair."

Okay, it's time to get back to work. I'm sorry if you found this sort of dull, but my striking brilliance and witty charm will only go so far when the fodder for my post is bland. You can really only write well about things you experience, so when you're experiences are limited to computer labs and textbooks, your writing takes the hit.

Alright, take care everyone.
Love you all dearly.
jmb

p.s. I'm growing quite fond of my personal following of nitpicky copy-editors. I didn't look over a single word of this post. Happy pickings!

Here It Goes Again

Not too long ago, I was sitting here responding to some emails and laboring through some homework when I was suddenly overcome with nagging guilt. I really need to update that blog, I thought to myself, but I'll do it... later.

I began to mentally revisit all my experiences of the past month, burying myself deeper beneath heaps of shame. I thought remorsefully of you, my loyal loved ones, eagerly checking the page for a new post, but as the days turned to weeks, your fingers seldom brought you back. My life has blasted onwards, but nothing of it has remained for you to read. I regret that the days of my blogging bliss are long gone, when I could write two posts in a week on even the most mundane things!

As with all my hobbies, such feverish devotion cannot last. You, however, mean more to me than any pastime. So here it goes again.

Okay. Enough rambling. Here's what you came for.

The month of March has been marvelous. As with all of you, I'm sure, there has been plenty to keep me busy. Friends have been friendly, teachers have been teaching, and schoolwork has been steady but not overwhelming. I've played in a few chapels (more on that later) and been challenged in a number of ways.

I went to an alternate chapel a few weeks ago in which we watched a movie entitled, The Day My God Died. Depressing, you think? Pretty much. The movie was an International Justice Mission production documenting the stories of girls trapped in brothels in Bombay (Mumbai), India. In essence, it was the same terrible story I've heard many times -- young girls kidnapped by family friends, sold to traffickers in Bombay, housed in unbearable conditions separated from all friends and family, beaten into submission, and forced to "serve" dozens of men a day. The girls in these brothels (there are thousands of them) refer to the day they were abducted as 'the day my god died.'

After the movie and short discussion, I waited until the auditorium had emptied and approached the man who had been leading it. I didn't really have anything to say to him, but I just couldn't bring myself to enter into the lives of these girls, talk about the hopeless existence of millions of women, and then saunter back outside to my friends and comfortable bed. I feel like now, more than ever, I have the opportunity to do something or get involved somehow. So I did, to an extent. Right now I'm on another mailing list, waiting for more information. But what else can I do?

I mean, is it wrong to live as I always have when I am very much aware of the conditions that others are trapped in? I don't know. Probably not. But I do think it's wrong to pretend that everything is okay. These girls are abducted as young as 8 years old, raped until they agree to cooperate, and cannot escape because they have nowhere to go. If they get pregnant, they endure hasty and unsanitary abortions and head right back to work for the next customer. They either die in captivity or are rescued and ostracized by their former communities.

And I get upset when I'm out of laundry detergent...

I have no conclusions to draw from all of this. I'm pretty convinced that God doesn't want these girls to be living like that, but he has yet to extend his mighty hand from the heavens to alleviate their pain. That, I believe, is where we come in. Somehow.


Oh boy. Everything else I was going to write now seems trivial and trite. Bear with me.

Well, on March 8, I went to New York City with a few friends on a school-sponsored trip. It was a college kid's dream excursion: we paid only $15 to get there, ate bagels stolen from the school cafeteria, and entertained ourselves feeding ducks in Central Park. Who says you have to spend money to have fun!?

As previously mentioned, I've been asked to play in chapels more frequently as of late. Any of you familiar with the Contemporary Christian Music scene might know the name Charlie Peacock. He's a producer and artist who has worked with everyone from Switchfoot to Amy Grant to DC Talk. He came to Messiah as a guest speaker/worship leader and yours truly got to play with him! Here's the best part: my favorite DC Talk song is In The Light, Charlie Peacock wrote the song back in the 90s, and he performed it at a Messiah chapel service with me on guitar! Thank you, thank you very much.

In other news, I just returned from Spring Break in Florida with my lovely family. We spent 5 days at Disney World doing everything the park has to offer and a few days at Grandma and Grandpa Goodman's house. We ate copious amounts of delicious food, walked many miles, and even kayaked 7 miles down the Weeki Wachee River. Anyone interested in more information should talk to Mama or Papa. They were there too... and they have lots of pictures!

My favorite part was, oddly enough, doing my homework. Now, before you gasp in shock (or swell with pride), let me explain. My final article for Magazine Writing is supposed to be 2000 words on something completely unrelated to Messiah. When I told Dr. Larry Lake that I wouldn't be going home until Easter and had absolutely no leads in Grantham, PA, he asked me what I was doing over Spring Break. From there, I developed a proposal for an article on the "faces behind the magic." At Epcot's World Pavilion, I interviewed four international employees to explore what it's like to work for America's largest theme park, and how/why they travel around the world to represent their countries to tourists in Florida. I talked to a Canadian, Norwegian, Japanese, and Morrocan. I left with an incredible appreciation for the diversity and culture found in this corner of a theme park, eager to write my article. I'll keep you posted on how it turns out.

There was more I wanted to say, but I have to head to an "All Callers Meeting" for Phonathon. I have no idea what it will be about, but it's absolutely mandatory. I'll keep thinking of things and add to this post as I remember.

Thanks for everything.
Out of time to edit.
jmb

Spell check?

I am a Martin Scholar.

I am a recipient of the Lloyd and Lois Martin Multicultural Scholarship, awarded to those who exhibit significant leadership and service in their communities and who promote ethnic diversity and reconciliation.

The requirements for those who receive this helpful financial support are somewhat ambiguous. I have heard next to nothing about the status of this scholarship since I arrived on campus, and I have, on occasion, felt slightly anxious that dear Mr. and Mrs. Martin had forgotten me.

Thankfully, the dreadful silence was finally broken when I was invited to visit a nondescript boardroom to write and sign a Thank You card for the Martins this afternoon. After classes and a hearty lunch (no use writing a card on an empty stomach), I descended into the depths of Eisenhower Campus Center to locate the appreciation party.

Upon entering the room, a jolly middle-aged woman approached me and asked me my name. She then handed me large envelope and explained its contents. "These are the instructions for writing the card and some information on the scholarship. This is a reminder about the Martin Scholarship Dinner in April. This is the card itself, and this is a blank piece of paper."

Before I had a chance to inquire about the presence of scrap paper in such a neatly organized packet, she winked at me and laughed, "Spelling counts!"

Needless to say, I was somewhat surprised with her lack of faith in my writing skills. Where did she expect me to err? "Um, excuse me, Miss. How do you spell 'thank you' again?"

Nevertheless, I took my seat next to a number of fellow "Scholars" already in progress and began to write. Admittedly, I actually found the scrap paper quite useful as I painstakingly crafted what I hoped would be the most eloquent expression of gratitude Mr. and Mrs. Martin would ever receive.

A short time later, I heard some whispering to my right. I looked up to see one girl leaning over asking another, "Umm... is "truly" spelled "t-r-u-e-l-y" or "t-r-u-l-y?"

As the first girl stammered between nervous laughing that she is a "really bad speller" I listened for the correct answer. To my dismay, the second girl paused for a moment and leaned back in her chair to think. "Um, no. Yeah I think it's the second one. Right?"

I mean, I can understand that some people are naturally bad spellers, but "truly"?

Oh, wait. There's more.

After resolving the first great dilemma, the second girl smiled meekly and said, "I'm really bad too!" A pause, and then, "Um, does completely end in 'e-y' or just 'y'?"

At this point, I was staring shamelessly; though, I doubt they would have noticed, so intently were they thinking. Of course, the other girl didn't know either, so the two of them, relieved to have found a friend with similar 'disabilities', began to chuckle softly. The girl who asked stared into space, clearly trying to picture the word with all possible spellings and evidently getting nowhere. Her partner-in-literacy-crime was scratching away furiously on her (now essential) scrap paper, but also gaining no ground.

Finally, I could take no more. Out of the goodness of my heart, I reached out and rescued them from their soon-to-be spelling purgatory. For all I knew, they might sit there for eternity, guided only by whatever modest and rudimentary spelling education they had received. I could not let them suffer so.

"It ends in a 'y'." They both looked up, their expressions a mixture of shame and intense gratitude.

"Ha ha. Is it? Alright, thanks!"

I finished my card shortly after and went on my way. I guess the skeptical assistant-lady really knew what she was talking about after all. Who am I to think that college-educated Americans should be able to spell with nothing but a pen and paper? Stripped of our self-correcting word processors and online dictionaries, can we really be held accountable for whatever atrocious spelling errors we commit?

I don't mean to sound too negative. I'm sure those two girls are wonderful people, and, for all I know, they could be excellent writers. I just think something is wrong when we become functionally illiterate in the absence of our gadgets.

Somehow, I don't think Lloyd and Lois would be impressed.

How to Read the Sound of Settling

Some of you have inquired about the new title, so let me explain. This most mysterious of monikers is, in fact, a clever concoction of my own loaded with multiple layers of meaning... sort of.

One of my favorite bands is Death Cab for Cutie. One of my favorite songs of theirs is called The Sound of Settling.

I am a poor and lonely college student stranded in a foreign land, forced to fend for myself and forge my own path in the world. Well, it's not quite that dramatic, but all this new-found independence leads me to ponder some of life's biggest questions: What am I doing here? How can I make the most of these "best years of my life?" Why do I feel pulled in so many directions? What does God want from me in the midst of this safety and fun?

This blog, therefore, is simply my personal-yet-public thought-receptacle. I'm trying to "settle" into this new environment and ... adjust to a new life, if you will. All the confusion and rambling that results could be described as "the sound of settling."

As for the reasoning behind the full title, I just figured that in visiting this blog you are "reading the sound of settling." Ha, but of course it's impossible to "read a sound" -- that part is just a product of my brilliant wit.

Anyways, there's the story. I'd also like to post a little heads-up that I will probably be writing about things outside my mundane daily activities. Expect to find a plethora of trivial musings and rants, a few responses to noteworthy experiences, and perhaps the odd tidbit of insight.

While I'm at it, I might as well give you a little update on some things.

So I haven't had any tests all Spring semester. Great, right? Sure, until I have two big tests on the same day. Ever wonder why work seems to cluster and attack in waves? I do. Tomorrow I will write a Spanish unit test, sit through an hour of riveting Philosophical discourse, and then take our first of three CCC exams. If you get this in time, I'd appreciate a quick prayer! Or even if you don't get it in time, I suppose you can still pray about it, seeing as God exists outside of time and all that.

In other news, I had a great weekend. I watched a movie or two, hung out with friends, ate a lot, made $40 at work on Saturday, did plenty of homework and studying, and got caught up on some sorely missed sleep.

On Saturday night two friends and I went to a virtually empty on-campus theater to watch "Bigger Faster Stronger" -- a documentary on steroid use and American perceptions of male body image. A shockingly depressing two hours later, I left in silence, scratching my head and thanking God that I'm not American.

Ha, well that's not entirely true. Clearly the problem is with the West in general, and it is a grave problem indeed. The film aimed to present the use of Anabolic Steroids not as a problem in itself, but as a 'side-effect' of American culture. There was cause for laughter at everything from ridiculous Hulk Hogan commercials telling kids to "eat your vitamins and say your prayers" to the juxtaposition of G.I. Joe in the 1960s with the unrealistic, strapping beast that he became in the 90s. What are kids supposed to do when their lifetime heroes are bodybuilders and pro-wrestlers that spend most of their adult lives pumping iron and steroids (often in equal proportions)? And what are they to think when those heroes shamelessly admit that they use performance-enhancing drugs and still rise to the top? (Case in point: Arnold.)

But why do steroids receive such a negative reputation? What about Tiger Woods and his laser-eye surgery that boosted his eyesight to 20/15 in both eyes? Is superhuman eyesight in golf any less of a performance-enhancer than anabolic steroids in body-building?

In conclusion, the whole thing got me thinking about body image in general. I can't stand another Bowflex infomercial, with their professional body builders and highly doctored "before and after" photos. Even more appalling is the fact that these ridiculously contrived advertisements are somehow effective. People still drop hundreds of dollars and hours on gym memberships and the latest and greatest "legal" enhancers. The film profiled a 50-something "gym rat" living in his van and spending everyday at the legendary Gold's Gym that was once home to Arnold the Great, and a 30-something weightlifter who has sent dozens upon dozens of audition tapes to the WWE waiting for his contract and his shot at "happiness" -- he is rejected every time. For these two men, all they know is muscle. They have no means of defining themselves apart from their benchpressing records and dreams of stardom. Unless something changes, they'll die even more miserable than they already are.

I guess I'm just glad I have something more to base my life on. I have a shot at a great education and a chance to make a difference in the world. I have a family and friends who care about me and want what's best for me. Best of all, I have a relationship with the God of the universe -- a God whose love for me has nothing to do with the size of my biceps (thank goodness for that). It's a depressing thought for me to think that people spend their entire lives obsessing over how they look on the outside, when God has given us so much depth and beauty to enrich our "insides." I have no problem with people who like to work out or lose weight, but just how much of our time and energy should be spent on something that will turn to dust one day anyways? How much more valuable is the beauty of God's creation -- in the arts, music, knowledge, nature itself, and, most importantly, in each other?

There is an unending amount of knowledge out there, and more beauty on earth than any one person could ever lay eyes on. I get so excited about the potential of all I can accomplish and experience if I just turn my focus off myself. With eyes on things above and outside ourselves, I think God can really use us to impact and restore the world.

That's all.
jmb

You Found It!

Welcome!

Well, this is it, folks. How do you like it?

First off, I'd like to apologize for my inexcusable negligence the past two weeks. Actually, I have excuses, but I should have made time for this... no, I should have made time for you.

But to make it up to you, I've completely changed everything! Haha, like it or not, I figured the time was ripe for some modifications. Additionally, I felt pressured to appear more technically savvy and "virtually hip" in order to maintain the interest of my readers. I know you all have very high standards when it comes to reading blogs -- you don't read just any old thing!

Unfortunately, I do not have a lot of time right now to write a lengthy update, but I will try to skim over some recent developments in the ever-exciting life of me.

Two weekends ago, my swimming season culminated to a grand finale. It was bittersweet, to say the least. I had a blast, only swimming one event on Friday morning and spending the rest of the weekend cheering and becoming better friends with all my teammates. It's sort of funny, I realized, that after an entire season, I still didn't really know my teammates very well. Ha I guess that's the inevitable consequence of a sport that requires you to spend all your time with your face in the water. But we all had a ton of fun bonding and it was surprisingly painful to wish the season farewell.

The Men's team placed 5th out of 10 teams -- an excellent finish for a first-year team! My race was pretty awful, but I was just really grateful that I could go. I definitely missed a lot at Messiah, but the change of scenery was great. That said, coming back to school I was actually sad to the point of considering swimming next year too. Sure, the practices are painful and pervasive, but it's just so fun to be a part of a team. However, I waited a few days to let the sentimentality dissolve and now I've decided that I won't be rejoining the team. Part of my reasoning is that I am planning on going to Philadelphia campus next spring... and then there's the fact that I want my time back. It was a great experience, but I never planned on being a varsity athlete for four years at college. Moving on...

Four very busy days later, I woke up on a sunny Friday with a huge smile on my face and a bounce in my step. Why, you ask? Well... because Katrina arrived at Harrisburg International Airport at 2 pm! Wooohooo!! Although she was sorely separated from her luggage, it was so nice to have her here! The weekend that followed was better than I even imagined it would be! We spent two and a half days meeting/hanging out with all my friends, eating a lot, doing all campus had to offer (on-campus movies, museum, mini-concerts, etc), talking, eating tons of cheap and delicious ice cream, shopping, enjoying the Central PA sun, an awesome church service at CLA, a wonderful afternoon of playing/praying in a practice room, and the list goes on!

You want to hear a joke?
Q: What do you get when you cross Josh's favorite place with his favorite person?
A: More fun than any weekend can handle!

ha.. I guess that wasn't very funny.. or even a joke at all...sorry...
Anyways, you probably get the picture. It was pretty crummy to say goodbye again, but I'm so happy she could come! As expected, everyone here loved her and can't wait for her to come back! :]

Ahem.. moving on.
All the freshmen recently completed their Created and Called for Community (that mandatory course) Creation Projects. It was really fascinating to see how everybody has a different way of expressing what God's glory and the vastness of creation means to them. Chris Dodds and I did an "instrumental reflection" on the Creation story. It's just this messy ambient song with a bunch of different layers, added with each of the seven days. Ha we were pretty proud of it. I'm going to put it on a site for you to listen to if you want.

Last thing: I got a 98% on my final Theology paper, with a raving accolade along the lines of "theology needs you!" Suffice it to say I was surprised, but I'm not complaining! :] I'll find a way to get that to you if you care to read it.

Alright, I'm off to work.
I'll probably write another post to fill in all the gaps this weekend.
Thanks for... everything!

Love love love,
jmb

The Start of Something New

Que Pasa?

This might seem odd, but the only way I could aptly title this blog was to borrow from one of the great musical classics of our time -- High School Musical. No shame.

Anyways, my reasoning is two-fold. Firstly, this week was a tough one to get through at times with all the major changes taking place, and secondly, your favourite website, yes, the one and only "Just Joshin'" will most likely be going through some significant changes. We at "Just Joshin" headquarters are just getting a little weary of the juvenile moniker and simplistic layout, so we're looking to revamp the image. After all, what's an internet persona without some 'cutting edge' personality?

But don't worry, I'll keep it all very easy to find and user-friendly... that is, if I can figure out what to do. (We're still at the drawing-board.)

So. How was this week, you ask? Well, like I said before, it was tough. I find myself to be partial to routines, so adjusting to an entirely new one can take some getting used to. I'm pretty excited about most of my classes, but the workload is going to be much greater than last semester. For every Mon-Wed-Fri, I have a Spanish textbook assignment, a Philosophy reading, and a Created and Called for Community reading/reflection. And then there are all of my magazine writing major projects (which will inevitably seem a little overwhelming) and my Computers assignments. But, I guess that's college for you. Last semester was a walk in the park -- a smooth, gentle introduction to college. We aren't messing around any longer.

My Philosophy class should be a good one. My professor is your typical absent-minded genius. He shows up to class in a T-shirt and sneakers everyday, and, like clockwork, walks into class huffing and puffing five minutes late. He's always in need of a shave (and maybe a little less coffee) giving the impression that he was up all night wrestling with the Problem of Evil. But all idiosyncrasies aside, he's actually a really good teacher with a brilliant mind and a great sense of humour. I'm looking forward to this one.

My other classes are nothing special in themselves. The Magazine Writing class is composed of English majors and upperclassmen, of which I am neither. It's a good thing I like a good challenge, because I've found one in this class. But I know I'm going to learn a lot. Although these blog entries are not exactly magazine feature articles, I'll try to incorporate what I learn. Let me know if you notice!

Spanish is a LOT better than last semester. My teacher is an American lady, which makes her a lot easier to understand. We have way more homework, but I guess that's a much better way to learn than cramming for tests. Pretty soon I'll be writing entire blog entries in Spanish for my Costa Rican grandparents! (haha.. not any day soon, though)

So those were my classes. But this week was busy because of much more than new academic obligations. I was asked last-minute to play acoustic guitar for Common Chapel on Tuesday morning -- something I'd never done before. So Monday night I had practice for chapel, then I went to bed, then I woke up, ate breakfast, and went to chapel, then I went to Mag. class, then from Mag to Computers (all with a guitar and a backpack on my shoulders), then from Comp to the lunch to the room where I did homework for 30 mins, then I went to swimming, to dinner, then finally back to the room to finish homework and, at long last, relax. Thursday was more of the same... except that I overslept and ran to chapel in a tizzy -- not a good way to start a very long day.

I hope you like run-on sentences as much as I do.

This will be the last time I talk about swimming for a while (except to mention results next week), because we have our big Conference meet this weekend. We leave very early Friday morning and then swim all day Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The funny thing about that, however, is that I'll only be swimming for a total of 24 seconds in a 3-day meet. Oh well. We don't arrive back on campus until late Sunday night with a few hours to sleep before classes on Monday. So I regretfully must inform you that there will not be a blog entry next weekend, although if I get a chance to type it up and then post it later in the week, I will. Stay tuned!

There's only two more things I wanted to mention, and I'll do so briefly. I met for lunch on Friday with an acquaintance of mine (he's a senior); we've chatted briefly around campus a few times, so he suggested that we meet up for lunch sometime. He's a really nice guy and when I first met him back in October he said he'd be happy to help me out as I got connected around campus, recalling how hard it was for him to adjust to college life when he was a freshman. Anyways, so we finally got to sit down and talk, and it was one of the best lunch conversations I've ever had. Seriously... I'm starting to think that my ideal career would be one where I just sit down and talk with people, preferably over food. Journalism? PR? That could work... Anyways, I learned a lot from this guy, and I can tell you more if you're interested (just email me) but let's just say that he really gave me a new perspective on certain theological doctrines.

The last thing is that Katrina and I celebrated our BIG two-year anniversary on Thursday. I sent her a little something, and she's bringing me a little something when she visits (in less than two weeks!!). I also recorded a couple songs and I felt like posting them for you to enjoy. There's no simple way to do this, so I've posted a link to all the songs I've recorded with people. The first two "Hallelujah" and "Open Eyes" I just recorded, but the others are all with lovely friends and family of mine. Feel free to check it out!

Well, I guess that's all! It's currently 50 degrees outside (er... 12 or 13?) and wonderfully sunny. People are outside in shorts! Ha.. but here I sit, loyal to those who are so loyal to me. Thanks again!

I'll be back with more soon!
jmb

(CLICK ON THE LINK TO THIS BLOG "THE START OF SOMETHING NEW" TO FIND THOSE SONGS)