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
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
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
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
Friday, May 1, 2009
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
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
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