Welcome to Te Atatu

Katherine and I went today to mark out the route for our prayer walk on Friday. Along the way, I got a little bit of a history lesson, which made me realise I guess it's time for the blog world to be formally introduced to Westside Christian Fellowship and Te Atatu Peninsula.

Westside Christian Fellowship began as Auckland International Church. As AIC, the church primarily consisted of international expatriates. In 2007, the church moved to Te Atatu Peninsula in the Waitakere region, which is west of the Auckland mega-city.

I'm just trying to be impressive with my geographical terminology here, ok? To put it simply, for those of you familiar with the Great State of Indiana, it's kinda like saying Anderson (Te Atatu Peninsula) should really be filed under the Madison County cabinet (except in this case it's the beautiful Waitakere (mountain) ranges), but it's now lumped together with Indianapolis (Auckland) as part of the mega-city.

Completely confused yet? :) Google might be able to help.

West Auckland has apparently been historically the area with the notorious reputation. Te Atatu was apparently one of the most "unsafe" areas until recently. According to Katherine, churches on the Peninsula have been prayer-walking the community and much change has come to Te Atatu Peninsula.

Westside has chosen intentionally to work very closely with the schools and families on the Peninsula. It has been an interesting few months for me, watching the subtle influence of post-Christianity play out in family life on the Peninsula. But it has been even more fascinating, watching the growing number of people in our church stepping forward to influence even more positive change in our community.

I'm excited about the things that God has in store for us in 2012. But even more so, I'm honoured that I get to be a part of this. The approval of my 2-year visa (which I just realised I haven't even blogged about!) answers a lot of prayers that have been whispered. But even more so, it affirms that the vision of bringing me here wasn't a mistake; that the dreams we've dreamt in the last few months weren't a mistake; that, just in general, we're doing ok.

2012 promises to be another year of adventure. Sure there will be more (and bigger) emotional roller-coasters--I wouldn't expect any less from a crazy God with an incredibly misunderstood sense of humour. But even through all the big disappointments and heartaches of 2011, God's faithfulness still came through in the few in quantity but massive in quality victories.

Bring it on, 2012 in Te Atatu Peninsula. I'm ready for you!

Unexpected Christmas

In all the weirdness of me, I've always secretly looked forward to my first Christmas away from the birth family.

Don't get me wrong. I love my family, and Christmastime with my crazy cousins and church family is always fantastic. But there's a part of me that feels like my first Christmas away from the birth family is another rite of passage--or perhaps another symptom of the pains of growing up.

So in all the weirdness of me, I've been secretly looking forward to this Christmas for a while. But somehow, the last month got insanely busy with trying to meet datelines to get my visa sorted so I could actually spend Christmas here. Then there was the exhaustion from trying to help plan for Christmas service and stuff while I wasn't even sure if I would be here for it.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, I forgot how much I had been looking forward to this, my first Christmas away from family.
Somewhere in the middle of puppet show rehearsals, writing newsletters and hanging out with kids, I forgot the expectant spirit of Advent.
Somewhere in the middle of trying to find stuff to fill the emptiness of being away from what is familiar, I forgot to even find time to miss the traditions that I've grown up with.

So here I am in the first hour of Christmas morning in a whole new part of the world that is now home, sitting in the home of a friend where I'll be sleeping the rest of this week because the housemates have family in town. The Christmas Eve dinner with the adopted family has long been digested, the cheesy Christmas movies and family games have been put away, and the Christmas tree in Janice's home is lit.

This wasn't at all how I had envisioned my first "grown-up" Christmas. I'm settled in to Te Atatu, but not having my own space to start my own "grown-up" Christmas traditions is creating a feeling of displacement that I hadn't anticipated.

But I wonder if this was exactly how Mary and Joseph felt. It was their first child, and they probably didn't even have the time to get ready for their own family traditions before they had to head to Bethlehem for the census. I wonder if they had themselves envisioned what the birth of their first child was going to be like, and how far it might have been from what they had expected.

Yet somehow in the midst of all the hustle and bustle and feelings of displacement, the Christ-child came. So as exhausting as this whole month has been (I barely even noticed this is the first blog post in over a month...), and in spite of the fact that it is 1 am and I have to be up in a few short hours for a long, long day of festivities, I'm taking a few moments to breathe in the Christmas air. I'll shed a few tears for the traditions that have now been broken, and give thanks for new beginnings and new hope that could only happen because of this Christ-child.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.

Love from Aotearoa,
Jael

Advent Series: The Covenant

Even though I didn't grown up in a traditional liturgical church, the years at Park Place, in Seminary, and friendships with the likes of Arthur, Ed, Kelley and Rhonda, and Carma have taught me to appreciate the beauty of celebrating tradition, liturgy and the church calendar.

For the last seven years, this time of the year begins my season of Advent. Sure, I'm waiting for the Christ-child and all the other biblical stuff, but I will be lying if I didn't also confess that my season of Advent included waiting for that time of getting to be in the birth-place home. Sure, the time to get on the plane isn't too, too far away anymore, but at the same time, it's not quite here yet.

Every year, I wait.
Anxious to get out of the ridiculous slush of the Anderson winters.
Restless to be done with academics.
Excited to see family and friends again.

This year, new traditions await.

I sit in Kathrin and Stefan's study that has been my bedroom for the last two months, watching the bamboo sway outside the window.

There is no ridiculous slush or wintry winds I want to get out of.
No academics I want to be done with.

But still, I wait.
Waiting for answers to the visa process.
But more importantly, waiting for faith.

At SupaKids (the Bible club the Beisleys, Steve and I are involved with at Matipo Primary School on Wednesdays), we've been talking about being committed. As we discussed each of the Bible stories with the kids, I was reminded of the motif paper I wrote for Biblical Foundations of Mission, where we were asked to trace the missio Dei (Latin for "mission/work of God") through the Bible. The motif I wrote about was God's covenant to relationships. Beginning from Noah and the rainbow, to Abraham and Canaan, to the prophetic calls to return to the covenantal relationship, to Jesus of Nazareth, to the letters of Paul, the consistent theme I saw was that God was most interested in relationships.

I've been thinking a lot about Isaac.
If Aotearoa was my Isaac, am I willing to leave it at the altar?
And what if God doesn't spare my Isaac?
Does that change my relationship with God?

Back when I started my Seminary journey, the covenant that God made were the words from the good old Charles W. Naylor hymn:

"When I am safe at home,
Or in a foreign land,
When on an icebound shore,
Or on a sunlit strand
...

Nothing shall separate
From His unbounded love
I am the Lord's, I know
For all eternity"


I've been asked on several occasions if my faith wasn't big enough to believe that if God called me to Aotearoa, a way would be provided for me to stay here. The truth is, I don't know how big my faith is. I only know that God's covenant to me was that Aotearoa or not, I still am the Lord's. What I get to do or where I get to be doesn't change that covenant relationship with my God.

So I'm sorry if that means my faith isn't big enough.
I don't know how much time I have with my Isaac.
I just know that as long as I have my Isaac, I'm giving all that I am and have.

That's the covenant with my God.

Editor's Note: This post kicks off the Advent series for this year.

New Plymouth Roadtrip #3: Spiritual Guardians

Wednesday saw us stopping at the Rangimarie Maori Art and Crafts Center after breakfast and a fair amount of puzzling. But more on the puzzling in a bit.

It wasn't a huge art and crafts center, but there was a fair amount of the traditional black, white, red Maori art pieces, weaved baskets and sculptures.

It was here that I was struck with the awareness that we really are a whole lot more connected to each other than we take time to think about. The weaved baskets, possibly made from harakeke (Maori for flax) reminded me of the weaved baskets I had seen in 鹤山 when we made the 寻根(literally translated as "looking for roots") trip to Grandpa's village in China two years ago. And the sculpturing brought back images of watching the workers carefully carving each buddha for the temples in Cambodia.

So much of how we communicate is done through art and music, and if so many different parts of the world find themselves communicating in similar fashions, are we really as different as we like to think we are? It made me question why I sometimes used the excuse of "differences in culture" to get away with not knowing or understanding something or someone. If I'm completely honest with myself, "differences in culture" is not, and should never be used as a lame excuse for my own laziness and fear of looking/sounding stupid when I try to build bridges cross-culturally.

Silent Guardians
"All humans are spirits only visiting this world. All spirits are forever beings. All encounters with other people are experiences, and all experiences are forever connections."
(Marlo Morgan - Mutant Message Down Under)


My favourite piece of sculpture at the Art and Crafts Center is titled "Spiritual Guardians". It was a piece that had at least four different faces, depending on what angle you are looking at it from. It reminded me of the many "spiritual guardians" I've had in my life, some of whom I didn't even realise how much they spoke into my life until years have passed since our interactions. It reinforced for me the idea that we really are more spiritually connected than we realise, and that every interaction we encounter creates in us a sense of responsibility to each other.

To put it in a more Christianese way, every interaction we have should be an opportunity for us to be the Light and Love of Christ. We have the responsibility to community to help each one discover our spiritual connectivity in the love of Christ.

In The Blackfield
She wants to stay and talk all day
So I remark when it gets dark
All the pale things under the earth
Will reverse
(Blackfield - Blackfield)


The backpacker we stayed at while we were in New Plymouth brought us into close proximity with a few really cool folks from around the world.

Laura, a young artist from Germany, here trying to get an internship to add to her portfolio for admission to university back in Germany.
Ann-Sophie, from Quebec, French Canada has been hitch-hiking through New Zealand with Laura ever since they got acquainted a few weeks ago.
Julien, a medical/information systems professional from Germany, here for a one-year break from working closely with cancer patients the last couple of years.
Tomoko, a surfer-dudette from Japan, temporarily working at Seaspray House, the backpacker where we met.

As we shared kitchen and dining space or sipped wine and worked on puzzles together, I found it refreshing to simply be sharing space with people who could simply be. Each one brought to that place our own baggage, whether it was fatigue, a thirst for adventure, the need to escape, or whatever other stories there might be. But in the space of that lounge area, nothing mattered more than simply putting our brains and hands together to work on a puzzle, to laugh and to simply be in each other's company.

It was one of the moments that made me miss being in Berlin. Whether we were having sushi parties, hanging out at the park with neighbours, we were meeting new people not just from all walks of life, but from all parts of the world, and each one with a different story, as we were trying to figure out what it means to live the XZ (Christ-centered) life in those communities.

Julien would join us for a few meals here and there. When he shared the story of what brought him to New Zealand, the same thing that tugged at me when I heard "Justin's" story when I was in Berlin came back. "The story isn't over..." Even though these were two completely different stories, something tugged at me to want to know how the next chapter would look like for Julien. I only wish I had managed to get his contact information before we left.

Our last night in New Plymouth, Steve and I stayed up with Laura, Ann-Sophie and Julien, working on our last puzzle, laughing, trading stories, and simply being. Laura showed me some of her art work, and I was blown away by the stories she shared about what inspired her. And then we proceeded to play some of the games we used to play as kids... which, as it turns out, are fairly universal :)

But it came back to the same thing. The simple act of simply being, and simply living in community because we shared space with each other for the few days.

All encounters with other people are experiences, and all experiences are forever connections.

New Plymouth Roadtrip #2: Rainbow Through the Rain

We were on the roads somewhere on Tuesday when Steve came up with the annoying brilliant question, If you could identify your personality as any one thing, what would it be and why?


Allow me to introduce the crew of this roadtrip with the answers each of us gave:

Kathrin, the Cat: dear friend, big sister and housemate
Emily, the Ostrich: Steve's friend from Ohio, here for a visit
Steve, the Tree: friend, "pricker" (Seminary friends, think Dr Froese) and youth pastor
Jael, the Cactus

Amanda once described my personality like that of a cat's, but I decided to go with the cactus this time. A few good friends once used it to describe the personality of someone who really means well deep inside, but keeps their pricks out so you're not really sure what to do with them.

While the other three made their way up Paritutu Rock which I avoided because of my phobia of heights, I took the time to think a little bit more about the Cactus.

The cactus is almost always a solitary figure in the desert. In my driftings around the world, it's easy to feel like I'm alone in the desert, struggling to sink roots deep enough to tap into the source of Life deep below the surface of the desert. The struggle to sink roots represents both my wrestling with questions of faith, and the thirst for Life in community every time I'm uprooted. Because of the struggle, the pricks that develop keep others at bay, and they'll have to work past the pricks to find the source of Life.

On the flip side, I once read somewhere that potted cacti are gifts of friendship the way flowers are gifts to lovers. The potted cacti reflects my friendship with the world, and my desire for community that is unlike the solitary experience of the desert cacti.

Oh Love That Will Not Let Me Go
Tell me now where was my fault
In loving you with my whole heart
(Mumford & Sons - "White Blank Page")


Monday morning saw us leaving Auckland a little after 10 am. We weren't too far into the journey when Emily shared something that she was reading that morning that included the line, "I trace the rainbow through the rain," familiar words from one of my favourite old, old hymns, Oh Love That Will Not Let Me Go.

The journey to Auckland has felt like a dream, almost too good to be true. But with the visa dateline getting closer and closer, the feeling that I'm about to wake up and realise this has all been a dream is getting stronger and stronger. At one of the many lookouts where we stopped for photos, I found myself confronted with the possibility that this could well be my last trip around New Zealand for a while, if things with the visa don't end up the way we hoped. Deep inside I knew this was a worst-case scenario, but I found myself asking the question, if this was the end of the road with Aotearoa, will it be ok? The truth was, there's still a rainbow that I could trace through the rain because of the love that will not let me go.

Has the past couple of weeks here been challenging and discouraging? Yes. But having to wrestle with the possibility of this all coming to an end soon made me realise that as many challenging and discouraging moments there have been in the last two months of being here, I wouldn't want to be anywhere but here right now.

Two months ago, the eight hours I spent at BNE led to learning the lesson that as long as I'm not living life here with complete abandonment; as long as I'm not giving my heart away freely and completely to this land and this people, I'm still living in fear and not trusting enough that the the Source of Life will be enough. Two months later, I realised I've fallen in love with the land and the people.

Tell me now where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart...

New Plymouth Roadtrip #1: Soul Journey

I've been reading Marlo Morgan's "Mutant Message Down Under," a book recommended by Jen and Miriam. The book had pretty crappy reviews on Amazon, but I'm really enjoying the book so far, and not because it's good historical fiction or anything like that, but because of the narrative of the spiritual journey to appreciating the complexities of the simple things in life.

This roadtrip that Kathrin, Steve, Emily and I just came back from has been a little bit of a spiritual journey for me as well. The journey to Aotearoa itself has had its mystical elements in making me feel even more connected to the earth (thank you Caity Stuart), but this roadtrip was a soul journey of a different kind.

To begin, I carried with me a heaviness from the last couple of weeks as we started the roadtrip. As much as I tried to be present for the trip, the fact that the visa business was still not taken care of made it difficult. Do I begin to withdraw, simply out of the possibility that this could well be my last travel around New Zealand for a while?

Ironically, just before we left that morning, Kathrin and I had a brief conversation about something Michael posted on Facebook by Thich Nhat Hanh:

"In the United States, I have a close friend named Jim Forest. When I first met him eight years ago, he was working for the Catholic Peace Fellowship. Last Winter, Jim came to visit. I usuallyy wash the dishes after we've finished the evening meal, beofre witting down and drinking tea with everyone else. One night, Jim asked if he might do the dishes. I said, 'Go ahead, but if you wash the dishes you must know the way to wash the.' Jim replied, 'Come on, you think I don't know how to wash dishes?' I answered, 'There are two ways to wash dishes. The first is to wash the dishes in order to have clean dishes and the second is to wash the dishes in order to to wash the dishes.' Jim was delighted and said, 'I chose the second way- to wash dishes to wash the dishes.' From then on Jim knew how to was the dishes. I transferred the 'responsibility' to him for the entire week.

If while washing dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as if they were a nusiance, then we are not 'washing the dishes to wash the dishes.' What's more, we are not living during the time we are washing the dishes. In fact we are completely incapable of realizing the miracle of life shile standing at the sink. If we can't was the dishes, the chances are we won't be able to drink our tea either. While drinking the tea, we will only be thinking of other things, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus we are sucked away into the future-and we are incapable of living on moment of life."

- The Miracle of Mindfulness, Thich Nhat Hanh, pgs, 6-8.

It was then that I realised, I was leaving Auckland and had already decided to stay disconnected from the real world. Fretting about the real world stuff wasn't going to change anything anyway, but I couldn't get my mind off the possibility that this roadtrip might well be my last for a while.

Human-ness. What are we to do with that?

I proceeded to try and get my thoughts organized so that I wouldn't dwell excessively on one thing or another. But you know that Voice, the one that I hate sometimes? The voice said, "Let the past sweep over when it sweeps over, rather than try too hard to control the flow of your thoughts."


And so the soul journey began. I'll write more eventually, but my brain is about to combust. 

Happy Guy Fawkes Day

Happy Guy Fawkes Day, friends.

Tonight, Doug and Danette hosted a thank-you barbecue for the folks who helped out at the Holiday Programme. This get-together happened to coincide with Guy Fawkes day, a celebration of the day this guy, Guy, tried to blow up the parliament (at least, according to the few people who tried to explain it to me).

Kiwis celebrate Guy Fawkes day with fireworks. I'm becoming increasingly convinced that the universal code for holidays is that if they aren't big enough to celebrate with a ton of food or fireworks, they aren't big enough of a deal.

The strange thing is, as I watched a bunch of the youths light the fireworks on the Beisleys' front porch, my mind drifted back to Fourth of July in St Helen's. I know I'm not a US citizen, but there's just something about how things become a tradition that transcends nationality or political boundaries. Kinda like how I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving with the American community here, or how the Chinese New Year steamboat reunion dinners became a tradition with the Chinese community in Anderson.

I've had a few interesting conversations recently about roots and what those mean. A big part of my story comes from having deep roots in many places, and having the permission to celebrate the traditions that come with those roots. As much as I try not to stick out in the dominant culture every time I move to a new place, I'm still not much of a conformist. Truth is, there are some things about tradition that I'm uber nerdy about.

Like, if I could go back in time, I would have convinced my dad to work with me more on my Chinese calligraphy, even if my siblings weren't interested.
Or contextualizing the Eucharist to today's society. Unleavened bread and wine? How 'bout pita bread and olive oil? (Thank you, Ralf Schwarz)
Or learning the proper native way to pronounce words in every new language/dialect I learn (I'm still working on the Kiwi English. Give it some time.)

Point being, I'm noticing again how much beauty I find in tradition. Sure, go ahead and be skeptical or cynical about everything we can possibly be skeptical or cynical about. But there still is a lot of beauty in tradition, if we can dig through all the cynicism to find it.

Happy Guy Fawkes Day, y'all. I don't know that this will become tradition in my story, but who's to say no?

October Update: Eggs in the Microwave?

Dear friends,

About seven years ago, I learnt a very important lesson in the dorm room of Martin Hall at Anderson University: Never try to boil an egg in the microwave. My roommate came back that evening and observed that the room smelled like really good food, not realising an egg had just exploded in the microwave. The next day, we had to air out the room so that the "yummy" smell that is now foul wouldn't linger too long.

Fast forward seven years. I was on dinner duty tonight because Kathrin (one of my housemates) was away at a conference. When the eggs that were supposed to be hard-boiled were still a bit runny, my immediate thought was, "Microwave! But just for a few seconds without the shell on so it doesn't explode." (I did learn my lesson... Sort of.) If not for Stefan (other housemate who is married to Kathrin) pointing out it still might not be the best idea, we'd have another egg-splosion.

It's a funny story to tell now, but it makes me reflect on the fact that there will always be lessons to be learnt -- and some to be re-learnt.

There's still much to learn about living life here. Like the fact that running around barefoot is generally acceptable in Kiwi-culture (CGM staff - yes, I'm fitting in quite well here ). Or that chickens that are to be eaten are called "chicken," and chickens that are pets are called "chooks." Or that rugby is a big, BIG part of Kiwi-culture, and not just because the All Blacks just won the Rugby World Cup last Sunday.

I was recently reminded that what I learnt from XZBerlin, the team I interned with in Germany, is not applicable only in Berlin. The truth is, being Xristo (Greek for "Christ") Zentrisch (German for "center") is something I can take with me regardless of what part of the world I might find myself in. I'm still learning the "hows" and "whats" of being XZ (Christ-centered) in Auckland looks like, but I'm most thankful for the Stefans who help avoid egg-splosions.

Holiday Programme
It seems strange to think that our holiday programme (VBS for the folks in the States) was two weeks ago. The majority of my time in my first month here was spent working with Danette Beisley to get things ready for that week, and all of a sudden we were done. Even though it got increasingly stressful closer to the week, watching the adult volunteers work together with the youths to get things set-up and running was fulfilling enough. Getting to spend some time with the kids that we had gotten to know through our involvement with the Bible Clubs in two of the primary schools made it even more worthwhile.

Prayer Requests:
Visa Update: This week, I had to call the FBI (something I never thought I'd do, but that's another thing to check off my bucket-list!) to check on the process with the background check from the US. I was informed that the current processing time for background checks is 8 weeks, and they won't have information for me until next week at the soonest. As frustrating as this process has been, the track record has shown that things will fall into place at the right time. Will you pray with me that this process will go smoothly?


Visioning: In the weeks since the holiday programme has ended, the church leadership has spent quite a significant amount of time in conversation about what next year will look like. Pray with us that as we transition and cast vision for the next year, we will really hear who God wants us to be in our community, and how to live that out.

Also, I have new contact information. Send me a message if you would like to have it.

Thank you all for your love, prayers, support and encouragement.

Love you all.

If Home's Where My Heart Is...

With the "honeymoon" phase wearing thin, homesick is starting to sink in a little bit. So yesterday, while sitting outside the Beisleys' home, I made a list of things that I'm homesick for:

* City lights at midnight
* Freshly-picked cherry tomatoes, sweet corn and strawberries
* Beading and solving the world's problems till 2 am
* Smells and smiles from Schwarze Olive
* Watching people line up to board planes
* Hymns and liturgy
* Reading Pride and Prejudice on the bus/train home
* Driving through acres and acres of cornfields with healing music, my emotional roller-coasters, and the Creator
* Popping bottles into the machine at Kaiser's and getting groceries with store credit from the recycling
* Community dinners
* 2 ams with the BFFs saying, "I don't understand yet why the heck you do what you do. But simply because of friendship, I will support and encourage you, and I will push you to keep walking when you're tempted to give up prematurely. And if necessary, I will arrange a boycott if you try to run home when life doesn't seem to go the way you'd hoped."

The list ended there for the day, but there was so much more I could have added.

For years now, I've wrestled with the idea of home.
My first TCK friend Will once explained it as, "home is where I lay my head that night."
My friend Nichele has never set foot on the African continent, but because that's where her ancestors came from, a part of home is in Africa.
My friends John and Jodie may have been born in the States and still return there every summer, but home is Haiti.
My friends Kathrin and Stefan moved to Auckland a few years ago, and home has been New Zealand ever since.
My friend Steve says home is in his pocket. It's what happens in community.
My friend Ian has made the cruise ship he's been working on for the last couple years his home.
My friend Laura once said home is wherever her parents are--no matter which French-speaking country it might be.


Tonight, it hit that home is all that and more.

Home is roots. Roots that go beyond Singapore, to the ancestral homes in China.
Home is blood. Lay a finger on one of the blood-kin and I'll pray fire and brimstone.
Home is together. Coffeeing, eating, laughing, crying... together.
Home is possibilities. Possibilities of roots that give wings to dreams.

Home is nowhere, anywhere and everywhere all at the same time.

And all is well and good until trouble hits too many homes at one time.
And then we wonder how the heck to explain that one part of our world is crumbling even while the rest of it still appears intact.
And then we take a deep breath.
And pray.
And cry.
And (eventually) let go.

I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now
- MercyMe

P.S. Finally posted photos from our Holiday Programme on Facebook. Click here

Jars of Clay

So here I am again

So full
Yet so empty

So much to say
Yet so wordless

So much restless fighting
Yet so much peace


Today I stood and stared at the ocean
Waters from the past reminding me of things I used to love
Things I used to be passionate about

Things that set me free
Things that taught me about Love


And then I wonder...
There's a whole world of water out there
Why am I sitting in a little sampan again?

Sampans aren't always bad things
Trouble is which sampan,
And what oars do I use to keep from drifting to dangerous waters?


They gave me books to read
Manuals to study
Flashcards even

But they all became sampans too

There's still a whole ocean out there


How do I dive deep
But not drown?


Someone told me recently
Forces are coming together
To bring congruence between my head and my heart

How?
When?
And until then, what?




And then...
"For right now... I don't know what the ans. is so just keep being the best you. When you can't take it... write me e-mails. I will read all of them and respond to them first thing (even tho I have e-mails from 4 weeks ago I need to get to)"

"Therefore, since we have this ministry, as we received mercy, we do not lose heart, but we have renounced the things hidden because of shame, not walking in craftiness or adulterating the word of God, but by the manifestation of truth commending ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing, in whose case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelieving so that they might not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not preach ourselves but Christ Jesus as Lord, and ourselves as your bond-servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, “Light shall shine out of darkness,” is the One who has shone in our hearts to give the Light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.


But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves; we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. For we who live are constantly being delivered over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death works in us, but life in you.


But having the same spirit of faith, according to what is written, “I BELIEVED, THEREFORE I SPOKE,” we also believe, therefore we also speak, knowing that He who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and will present us with you. For all things are for your sakes, so that the grace which is spreading to more and more people may cause the giving of thanks to abound to the glory of God.


Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal."


And suddenly I'm thankful Dr Majeski made us memorize this for our NT2 midterm.