Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Resting While Moving Forward

"Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary, and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:28-31 (NIV)

Everyone who has done a La Vida expedition should be familiar with this Bible passage; it's written on the plaque they received at the very end of their hiking/canoeing/kayaking trip. And it is this passage that my co-leader and I based this past May trip's theme: "Soar- Resting While Moving Forward."

At the time, I was extremely busy. I had just completed what was likely my most difficult semester in college, finished a year-long program involving intentional community living (#EPIX), was faced with the reality of saying goodbye to many of my graduating senior friends, and had to jump from all of that straight into leading a two week backpacking trip. I chose this for myself...and honestly I loved it. Which is kind of scary. I know it has been a temptation for my friends and I to find value in a busy schedule, and even brag about it, or compete with others to be the most busy. But I was sacrificing much needed opportunities for rest.

While it was difficult to find moments of rest the past nine months, now that I am into my summer schedule I've found the pendulum has swung the opposite way. With so much free time on my hands, I have sunk into a state of resting that is, I'm ashamed to admit, mostly an indulgence of laziness. I'm not using the time I have to my full advantage; I'm not moving forward with my resting. I could do so many things with my free time: write creatively, spend time in God's word, play my violin, read books, etc, etc. But when I'm not at my internship or hanging out with friends I find myself mostly lounging in the sun, eating, and watching movies or shows on Netflix. Even just forcing myself to read the Bible for 15 minutes is suddenly a big accomplishment.

If God wasn't my priority in the busy times, then how could I expect that would automatically change now that I have entered a period of rest? Yet I need Him; He is the one who gives purpose to my life, and He is the one encouraging me to rest when life is hectic, and pushes me to form and pursue goals when life is quiet. If I were perfect, maybe I could try harder or be a better person and thus find this ideal balance through my own strength. But the passage in Isaiah states that it is those who put their hope in the Lord who will find their strength renewed. This is a strength that through rest continues on when life gets tough, and moves forward when resting turns to laziness and gluttony.

So I press on into Jesus, searching for the mysterious truth that is soaring- resting while moving forward.

Monday, June 2, 2014

Humbled by His Goodness

Once again, I've finished another semester, and year, at Gordon. I've packed up my room, taken down the years' worth of letters and notes from my walls, turned in my keys and let out a satisfied sigh at having made it through finals.
Giant- This past May
Giant- One year ago
But I also just finished leading another La Vida college expedition. Twelve days of hiking, little opportunity for hygiene, and feet calloused so much that I can't feel the ground on parts of my toes as I walk barefoot through my house. Last year I thought that was due to frostbite, which would make sense considering the weather during that trip (snow).

It's been tempting to want to compare this most recent La Vida trip to last year's, especially since I did the same hiking itinerary. The weather this year was immensely better, confidence wise I felt much more of an able leader, I had such a great relationship with my co-leader (co-Sherpa), and we were able to complete our entire itinerary with very little disruptions. And, to top it all off, I had an amazing group of students. I always thought there had to be at least something that was not as good; either the community would be great but the weather awful, or vice versa. But over all this May I had an amazing trip.

Yet I noticed that even with everything going so well, I felt more distant from God this year, maybe even because everything was so perfect. It was much easier to forget to pray in the morning, or before meals, or just in general. There weren't stoves breaking and awful weather conditions that forced me to remember to rely on God. And I've come to realize that when I have more and more to be thankful for it becomes more and more difficult to remember to give thanks. Last year I was forced to rely on God  for my strength, forced to put all my hope in Him because there was no way I could have led that trip through my own strength and wisdom. But this year...it was tempting to forget that I still needed Him, and that the fact that everything was going so smoothly was not because of me but still because of Him. As I came to realize that spiritually I wasn't as much the leader as I wanted to be, I became discouraged and worried that perhaps my participants weren't growing as much or taking advantage of the full potential for spiritual maturity that La Vida offers, because I wasn't the example I hoped to be.

That is where God has humbled me. Despite my feeling distant from Him, despite the countless times I've forgotten to seek his help and guidance, or give thanks, He still used me. Because of my obvious flaws and shortcomings in my faith, I finally realized that the growth my students were experiencing was not due to me. Yes, God may have used my devotions or my words to prompt that growth, but He is the only One who can initiate that change. I am just a simple clay pot, a tool for His will, and that is all I could ever desire. While I strive for deeper intimacy in Christ and development of my personal faith, God is not dependent on me. And I am so, so grateful for that.
My La Vida kids...I guess

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Pine Trees, Poetry and Faith

   It has been very busy these past couple of months! Which doesn't mean I have not been writing, or thinking about writing, but I have definitely channeled all my energies towards academic pursuits.
But, while having all those (often) pesky assignments can be frustrating, they have their perks. And while this is not how I have conventionally used this blog, I'm hoping to attach an audio podcast I recorded and edited for a literature class, reflecting on the connections between Romanticism and environmental literature, and on the greater tension between science and art, in a NPR-esque fashion.
**Warning, it is 12 minutes long, so listen at your leisure. But I promise, it won't feel that long (or, at least not in a bad way.)
Enjoy!!
video



Thursday, February 27, 2014

Self in Community


According to Strengths Quest, a popular personality test for college students, one of my top strengths is Adaptability. And it shows. Not only can I be strangely calm in the midst of uncontrollable chaos (a helpful trait as a college student), but I have also found that I will take on the traits of those around me. Suddenly I find myself stealing my roommates’ phrases, or mimicking the gestures and expressions of my friends and family. The more I think about it, the more I realize that nearly every little mannerism I do or say I have borrowed from someone at one point or another.

The more I’ve considered this topic of “self,” the more I have been overwhelmed by the questions that arise from such self-analysis. What aspect of myself is integral to my being, rather than being merely an adaptation to a particular situation? Most importantly, how do I remain true to my self while living and interacting within a community?


I keep thinking about the summer I went to South Africa. Amidst the hut-to-hut evangelism and missionary work, there was a day in which I found myself rolling around in the dirt with all of the refugee children. This was the same dirt I saw the kids peeing and bleeding in— a composite of questionable trash and unpleasant smells. But we were singing their favorite bible school song, and that meant dropping down and rolling on that ground. Somehow, by being a part of that community, I became more of myself. Overcoming my initial hesitations and misgivings, I embraced a shared joy and gladness that was more integral to my being than my learned etiquette on cleanliness. I was more than just a wealthy outsider infiltrating their village; I was, and am, a person who desired to share in the joy of others.

It was only through that shared experience as a community that I came to realize that I don’t care if I get dirty or act undignified. Through further reflection and experience I have concluded that personal comfort and preference are less integral to my being than is my desire to serve others. How could’ve I known that about myself except through community?

But that’s the paradox. It is through community that I am learning to find my true self, the self that looks ever more like Christ. The old self, the one that is self-absorbed, shallow, and manipulative, while easy to slip into, does not make me feel whole like when I am serving others— making dinner for my housemates or praying with my friends.

However, the people in our communities are not always so easy to love. Sometimes I need the encouragement and model of others to know how to reach those who seem unreachable.


Like the family of the young man who was killed by the cops in my hometown. There was uproar from the city upon his death, and a rehashing of the hatred between the poor neighborhoods and the local police. My brother took me to the grocery store where I picked out a single flower, clutching it in my hand as we drove into the inner city and parked across from the small house. I couldn’t help but stare at the bullet holes in the walls, at the expressionless faces, at the shrine of candles. I wanted to be anywhere but there. But my brother walked up to the young man’s mother and talked to her, so I did my part, giving her the flower and whispering the only words I could think to say: “I’m sorry.”

I would have preferred to ignore the fact that I was a member of this same city that is full of injustice, of murders and bribery and violence. Who wouldn’t want to escape back into the safe little communities of family or church or school, ignoring the other ones closer in proximity but more difficult and uncomfortable? But God did not call us to live in safe communities. In fact, it was only in those more “unsafe” ones that I grew, and came to understand the real Lauren Berg, the one that is less of me and more of Christ.

It is only with the presence of others that my adaptability becomes a strength. The qualities I strive to adopt, the ones that reflect Christ and his love, are the ones I am modeling off the people and communities in which I find myself. 

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Community: But Honestly

I've been meaning to write a blog post all month long, but every idea I considered did not seem good enough. And then this thought seemingly came out of nowhere, "But honestly, who even wants to read about my life?"
Now that is a whole other issue. Is my blog merely trying to cater to the appetite of my readers... whoever they may be? I have to admit, I tried that before, with disappointing results. Rather, I've found that the blogs that have received the most positive feedback were the times when I wrote passionately about matters for which I was genuinely concerned.

So let me be honest: there have been plenty of rough times this past semester, and year even. Of course, I experienced the typical college struggles of love interests and time consuming academic work, but by far the biggest hurdle I faced this past semester was my disillusionment with community.

As much as I love each one of my housemates and members of my Elijah Project cohort, this community has been hard work. Don't get me wrong, I was being honest when I wrote about the Dexter house back in September. The house offers a great opportunity for relationships to grow and develop into deep friendships, and I certainly have experienced many joyful, fun moments and good conversations in this community. But with growth comes growing pains. As this past semester started to pick up speed, my expectations of spontaneous dance parties and weekend outings were quickly replaced by the difficult realities of conflict, misunderstandings, and compromise. We have all experienced hurt and discomfort in this house. It's pretty easy to spot the reason: we are all broken and sinful people living under the same roof.

Yes, there are times when I wish it was easier. But the reality of a house of thirteen people with differing expectations, personalities and backgrounds is that creating a good community will take hard work. Personally, I find it rather humbling. Even the brightest, most attractive (well I'm a little biased) and most intentional group of people such as are in our house cannot attain perfect harmony through sheer might. We need the help of the Holy Spirit. No matter how hard I may try to be good, loving, considerate, and so many other virtues, I know how easy it is to say or do something hurtful. Often it is the ones we care about the most that we hurt the most. And to be perfect merely through my own efforts is a futile thing (not to mention emotionally draining) because it is impossible!

Yet Jesus calls us to do the impossible. Love and pray for your enemies? Love God over money? Wash and put away your dishes without complaining? Yes, yes, and [implied] yes. The struggles of creating a community that serves God and each other may seem impossible to overcome, but God promises that it is not impossible through Him.

I am hopeful. As we collectively humble ourselves and seek God and pray, I hope that we will see healing, restoration, and peace in our community.

"A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." Ecclesiastes 4:12

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Name the Ugly monster

I name you...Rejection.

It has been trying to creep back in my life. I found it in my church, among my friends, and even within the sanctity of my Dexter House.

Where did it come from? I remember why I felt it in high school, but when I resolved things with my friend, it seemingly went away. Yet when I finally recognized its presence in my life this past month, it did not seem to have gone far away. I tried to remember when I first felt rejected. Childhood held no traumatic memories, and high school seemed to be an isolated incident.

But then I remembered 8th grade.
I remember being uncomfortable and worried the days when I didn't order the hot lunch, but brought a boxed lunch to my tiny Christian private school. We would leave class and walk ten steps to the gymnasium where five round tables were set up, though my class of 16 could fit around two of them if we wanted. Everyone else would go through the hot line, and me and the few others, the "uncool" would walk in first and have to choose a table. I remember being antsy, not wanting to sit down at a table first.

Because no matter which table I chose, it was always the wrong one.

I would pull out a chair and sit, slowly unzipping my navy blue lunch box and emptying its contents with care and deliberateness as if I was dismantling a bomb. I would anxiously look up to see if any of my friends were coming out yet. Nope, not yet.

Inevitably, the guys would come out with their food first.

Eighth grade was that awkward time when the guys and girls wanted to sit together, but only the cool ones could take the initiative without being judged. I was not cool enough, so the boys would go sit at another table. Then the rest of my girl friends would come out with their food, and drawn to that intriguing opposite sex, would join the boys at their table. Eventually I would abandon my table to join them, or the girls would see me and say "Come join us at this table, Lauren!"

But one day I didn't. I was mad at this repeated embarrassment, even though my girl friends never really saw the boys do it. They could have thought that I had chosen to sit separately from the boys, though my boxed lunch made it evident who sat down first. So when my friends said, "Come over here and join us Lauren!" I said no. "Why don't you come over here?" I responded. My one friend left her lunch and walked over, asking if anything was wrong. "I sat down here first" I stubbornly responded. Eventually I may have moved, to keep the peace. Or I may have stayed with a few of my other lunch-box friends and held out. Either way, the rest of that lunch I was uncomfortably burning with anger, shame, and rejection.

How could such a silly memory hold such weight, and reflect such a burden on my life? How could this seed of a thought, that I am undesirable, or less desirable, have grown to such monstrosities as this monster, Rejection?

I reject you Rejection. What you felt, 8th grade Lauren, and sometimes still feel, is not what God thinks of you. God has not rejected you. God finds you desirable. And God calls you His, His child.
Rest in that.
The real reason why they might have
 not wanted to sit at my lunch table...

Thursday, October 10, 2013

The Dexter House


Convivial (kənˈvivyəl)
adjective
1.) (of an atmosphere or event) friendly, lively and enjoyable.
-from the Latin con (with) and vivere (living), literally meaning fit for a feast; festive.

I still remember my first morning in the Dexter House this past August. Despite an overwhelming and exhausting day of moving everything out of my apartment in Beverly, driving 15 minutes, and then moving everything again back into Dexter, I found myself waking that next morning to the 6 am sunshine shedding light through my bedroom window. I looked out at the tall pine trees lined against the blue summer sky, and was filled with joy and gratitude. For three months I felt like I had to fight for my happiness, to fight for my community. But within the course of 24 hours I transitioned into a house where I was now surrounded by a community of twelve people I loved, and quickly learned, loved me in return. It was so exciting and wonderful that I couldn't sleep.

It was three years ago when I first visited Gordon College. I went on a tour, where I heard of La Vida for the first time (which I was convinced I would not do), I admired the chapel's elegant steeple and many chandeliers, and met up with a Gordon student, who was also one of my friends from home, Melissa Sakow. Melissa was a junior English major in the Elijah Project at the time (sound familiar?). At the end of the day she brought me back to the Dexter House to hang out with other people from her group. We considered grabbing blankets with thermoses of hot cocoa and walking to the beach, but instead we gathered around in the living room and talked. The conversation ranged from our celebrity look-alikes to strange talents/things about ourselves (did you know that my one pinky finger is noticeably longer than the other?). As the night went on, we also discussed deep questions and topics, listening to each other's perspectives. I say "we," but mostly I sat back and observed, soaking in that convivial community.

That night I felt at home. The combination of being in a warm house full of good conversations and laughter, smelling the pine trees from the parking lot remind me of nostalgic camp days, and the extraordinary people I met all confirmed it: Gordon was where I wanted to go to college.
Now, here I am again. Melissa's room in which I spent my first night at Gordon became Theresa's room, then Sarah's, and now currently Monica's, as each new group, new legacy, has passed through. Now, here I am, gathering in the living room laughing and talking with my own convivial house of people. I am feasting on the good dialogue, community, and positive interactions I am having with a group that I whole heartedly love and call my family. The Dexter House is not merely fun or enjoyable; it is a place where I am thriving and growing as I spend more and more time here. My heart is full of gratitude, overwhelmed with the joyous idea that I have only been here one month, and that I have many more months left to enjoy the vibrant, life-giving community that makes the Dexter House so special.