Doing the Dishes

Jesus called them together and said, ‘You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.’ Matthew 20:25-28

I do a lot of dishes here. I sometimes feel that a good eighty percent of my time is spent washing dishes. Dishes at home (since we have no electric dishwasher,) dishes at the WAVE Centre (despite their electric dishwasher,) dishes at church (no dishwasher,) or dishes at Youth Club (again, no dishwasher.) I have a permanent case of dish-pan hands, and I must admit that many times washing dishes is about as exciting as watching paint dry. I don’t quite loathe it, and I’d still rather wash dishes than, say, clean the bathroom, but it’s definitely on my top ten list of ‘Things I Prefer NOT to Do.’ It’s one of the least-challenging things I do—well, except for scrubbing hot chocolate and fruit smoothie residue from the bottoms of cups I can’t get my hand into—but it definitely doesn’t make for much mental stimulation.

However, it’s been interesting to see that, while there’s next to zero mental stimulation, the art of washing dishes spurns quite a lot of spiritual stimulation. In one of his many over-their-heads enigmatic illustrations of the Kingdom, Jesus tells his disciples that whoever wants to be great must be a servant. Whoever wants to be first must be last, a slave. Whoever wants to lead must follow. In our winner-take-all, dog-eat-dog capitalistic Western society, this makes about as much sense as torching your own home in order to ensure that it never gets struck by lightning. (Exactly, no sense at all.) But Jesus didn’t come to Earth to make sense, he came to speak truth. And while I don’t presume to know exactly what he was talking about in this passage of seeming conundrums, I have figured out that I don’t have to figure it all out in order to put it into practice. (As Jimmy Buffett said, ‘If you figure out that you don’t have to figure it all out, you are finally getting your s**t together.’ And yes, I did just quote Jimmy Buffett to make a point about Jesus.) Anyway, if service is what it takes then service is what I can give. And if that service is doing the dishes—for the first time or for the millionth time—then I can do that.

Because it’s not really about the dishes. In order to wash the dishes, I have to be in the kitchen, and just like at home, sooner or later, everyone passes through the kitchen. Whether I’m at home and Phen or Nathaniel comes in to grab a bite to eat or make a cup of tea or even to help me in drying the dishes, or whether I’m at the WAVE Centre and one of the dozens of staff members comes in or one of the dozens of members is there or one of the several other volunteers is making lunch for a group, the kitchen is rarely a quiet place. I think I can count on one hand the times I’ve done dishes completely on my own. We talk about our day. We talk about our challenges at work. We talk about the weather. We talk about politics. We talk about religion and how, as an American, I view the Catholic/Protestant ‘issue.’ We talk about programming and the community we serve and the Bible and beer and books and home and health and family and food and tea versus coffee and football versus football and what taxi company is the cheapest and where to get the best Ulster Fry and what airline has the best deals to Paris and somehow God is present in all of it. Because it’s not really about the dishes. It’s about the relationships.

My family is one of those ‘hang out in the kitchen’ families, much to my grandmother’s chagrin. She loves us, but her kitchen is (was—they moved) tiny (now it’s even smaller) so she constantly has to navigate around 4 or 5 family members at any given point while trying to make dinner and catch up with everyone because she hasn’t seen us in 6 months. It’s a great circus to be part of. We like being in the kitchen because for us that’s where it’s the liveliest. The food is there, the people are there, and cooking is a family tradition. Recipes are passed down from generation to generation along with the stories that go with them, and, oddly enough, even some cookware is passed down. It’s while washing out the 5-gallon stock pot that was my grandmother’s that I get the story of why it has a deep groove in the bottom as though someone smashed it with a stick. (It actually fell off the peg where it was hanging in the garage and landed on the runner of a Flexible Flyer snow sled.) It’s while washing the wooden spoons that my mother uses that I learn that they weren’t always that shape, but she’s worn them down after decades of use. (They were wedding presents, and I was 23 when I accidentally snapped the handle of the largest spoon. I thought they were a testament to my parents’ marriage since they’d been used in the kitchen for 33 years and was nearly distraught, but my mom just told me to buy her some new ones so she could start wearing those down, too. She figures her grandkids will break the next set.)

I tell you these stories partly because they’re amusing, but mostly because they’re about something bigger. They’re about the relationships. Whether it’s at work or with family or with housemates who are slowly becoming family, somehow serving them, doing the dishes with them, is what builds the relationships. It’s the little, everyday things that lays the foundation for the big, spectacular things. So I’ll continue to serve, and it will most likely be by doing the dishes. Lots of dishes. I’ve gotten pretty good at it. But, Mom? If I could have a week or so off of dish duty when I get home, that would be great!

Monetary Update

As of February I will have been in Belfast for 5 months! This also marks the half-way point for my year in Northern Ireland (if you can believe that!) It’s also been nearly 5 months since I last gave you a monetary update. Thanks for your patience on this.

I can happily report that I am ahead of schedule on my fundraising! Thank you all so much for your prayers and donations. As of January 15 you have helped me raise over $5,600. This is incredible! My deadline of $5,000 by February 15 has clearly already been met. However, the year isn’t over and my support raising isn’t finished. My next deadline is $7,500 by May 15, with the overall goal to have raised $9,000 total by July 15. I know this is possible, as God has already seen to it that my previous goals have been met. I thank Him for working through you all. It’s great to see what can be accomplished with just ‘a little bit here’ and ‘a little bit there.’

A donation of any size is deeply appreciated (and is tax deductible.) The easiest way to make a donation is to simply go to the PC(USA) YAV website at www.pcusa.org/yav. Click on ‘Support A YAV,’ find my name and follow the instructions. Every little bit helps, and small pebbles make great mountains so together this can happen!

Above all, I still need your thoughts and prayers. I’m learning so much here and am really enjoying my time. Thanks for reading my blog; I hope you enjoy the stories and pictures. Thank you all again so much for your continued support.

Peace...

Oswald's Wisdom

On about day 3 of my/our Belfast YAV journey, I found an old, somewhat tattered copy of Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest. It was sitting on the bookshelf of one of the other houses, so I asked to borrow it, and have, from that point, read it nearly every night. I'll admit some of his stuff is over my head, while some of it gives me the impression that he's completely off his rocker. However, more often than not, he has really good stuff to say. This is one of those times. (My friend and fellow YAV Maddie is also enamored with our friend Ossie. She speaks of him often in her blog, along with her adventures of serving in Cincinnati.)

January 14th.

Called of God

'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, "Here am I; send me.'" Isaiah 6:8

God did not address the call to Isaiah; Isaiah overheard God saying, 'Who will go for us?' The call of God is not for the special few, it is for everyone. Whether or not I hear God's call depends upon the state of my ears; and what I hear depends upon my disposition. 'Many are called but few are chosen,' that is, few prove themselves the chosen ones. The chosen ones are those who have come into a relationship with God through Jesus Christ whereby their disposition has been altered and their ears unstopped, and they hear the still small voice questioning all the time, 'Who will go for us?' It is not a question of God singling out a man and saying, 'Now you go.' God did not lay a strong compulsion on Isaiah; Isaiah was in the presence of God and he overheard the call, and realized that there was nothing else for him bit to say, in conscious freedom, 'Here am I, send me.' Get out of your mind the idea of expecting God to come with compulsion and pleadings. When our Lord called His disciples there was no irresistible compulsion from outside. The quiet passionate insistence of His, 'Follow me,' was spoken to men with every power wide awake. If we let the Spirit of God bring us face to face with God, we too shall hear something akin to what Isaiah heard, the still small voice of God; and in perfect freedom will say, 'Here am I; send me.'

New Year Musings

I went on a spiritual retreat over New Year's and spent a lot of time writing. I thought I'd share some of my thoughts with you all. Hope you enjoy!

December 30, 2009; 16:30

Boy can I pick ‘em. I got this bright idea to go away for a few days over New Year’s. Dealing with things here and things from home and life and work and having to start thinking about what I’m doing when I leave Belfast—I decided I needed some time away. I was describing it to Evan—just some time away from my house and people and distractions and blah—and he said, ‘It sounds like you need a Sabbath.’ Exactly. A Sabbath. So I get online for places up on the North Coast because I know it’s beautiful with few distractions away from the city yet easy to get to, and I find this hostel in a little village called Ballintoy just outside Ballycastle called Sheep Island View. Within my price range and where I want to go. Perfect.

Well, there are certainly no distractions. There’s not much of anything. About 30-some-odd houses, one wee shop (called ‘The Wee Shop’,) 2 pubs, 2 churches, this youth hostel and several hundred sheep. I said I wanted time away with my thoughts and God and I’ve certainly got it. I admit when I first got here I went to the Wee Shop for some odds and ends, and then went to one of the pubs for a plate of chips (interesting experience walking into a small pub at 2.00 on a Wednesday afternoon in a town where everybody quite literally knows everybody and they clearly don’t know you) and then I took a nap. I’m just now getting to the part that I came here for because I’ll admit I’m a little scared. Time alone with God can be scary. And he’s certainly here. I guess I’m also scared because I don’t really know where to start. Do I do what I’ve always done (read, journal, pray) but with more intensity and for longer? Or do I try something new? (Like what, I don’t know.) I think regardless I need to spend much more time listening for God. I know I don’t do that nearly enough. But that in turn begs the question, ‘How do I listen for God?’ I’m not sure I know how he speaks to me. I know he has and he does, but I’m not that well practiced in waiting for, and listening to, or indeed hearing the still small voice.

December 30, 2009; 18:00

I just spent some time doing today’s Solo devo and—providentially—it was about talking with God. For the prayer it suggested laying face down on the ground and talking to God like that. It said to ask for direction on something in your life and to not get up too soon. Maybe I got up too soon, I don’t know, but ultimately I feel like God is being very quiet. This is very frustrating as that leads me to think that God wants me to figure it out for myself or that there’s no real right or wrong way to go. That’s nice, but I don’t trust myself. I want him to tell me, to lead me, to let me know that I’m on the right track. I would like specifics and if not specifics at least an idea or a direct thought. And yet even if an angel appeared right before me to answer all my questions from the mouth of God himself, I feel I know what the answers would be.

‘What should I do with my life?’

‘Honor God and enjoy him forever.’

‘What should I do with all the things my heart’s been burdened with?’

‘Know that they are also a burden on God’s heart. Give them to him. He can handle it.’

‘What should I do about work?’

‘Submit to authority and trust God to work in their lives, too’

Wonderful answers and no doubt true, but in my current mindset maddeningly unhelpful. So I should probably change my mindset. Stop being to analytical to the point of inaction and unhelpfulness. If all I ever do is think about what God might want me to do I’ll never actually do anything, and that would definitely be bad. Also, trust God in his timing and in his reasons. If he is being ‘silent’ I’m sure he has a very valid reason and it’s probably one I’d never understand anyway.

Quotes for the day from Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell:

‘Your job is the relentless pursuit of who God has made you to be.’

‘What happens is our lives become so heavily oriented around the expectations of others that we become more and more like them and less and less like ourselves.’

‘If we don’t know who we are or where we’re trying to go, we put the people around us in an uncomfortable position.’

December 31, 2009; 11.20

I’ll sit here and do some journaling while finishing my ‘coffee’ before heading out. I say ‘coffee’ because it’s instant, but it has caffeine and it’s the only thing to go in hot water besides a spoon. (Seriously! No tea! Where am I?) Anyway, was doing my morning devo and it was on Samson, more specifically the death of Samson. After Delilah cuts off his hair, the Philistines capture him, gouge out his eyes and enslave him. A long while later, once his hair has grown back some, the Philistines are having a party. They bring out Samson to the m idle of the temple and say, ‘Dance, monkey! Dance!’ (Or words to that effect.) Samson, while leaning against the 2 central columns of the temple, cries out to God to give him strength this one last time to avenge himself of his eyes. And God does. Two things struck me about this passage; 1) even in his selfishness (‘avenge me my eyes’) Samson commits the ultimate act of selflessness (he killed himself along with all the Philistines;) and 2) God never actually speaks to Samson. He gives Samson what he needs whenhe needs it and lets that suffice for an answer. (Which is really more than enough.)

I find so often that I wait for an audible voice from God telling me what to do and where to go, and I completely miss the ways God ‘speaks’ to me otherwise; through my heart, through other people, through music and books, through the Word, through devotion, through nature. God is so much more than an audible voice!

December 31, 2009; 15.45

Wow! I never thought I’d see anywhere as beautiful as my Appalachian Mountains, but the North Coast is a close, close rival. (Click link for pics.) That breathtaking kind of savage beauty that you know would just as easily kill you as embrace you. The kind of majestic beauty that speaks to something so much bigger—that takes your breath away and leaves you speechless. And all the while I can hear God saying, ‘I love you.’

December 31, 2009; 16.20

Rob Bell debriefing moment: he’s talking about how we are made new in Christ. How the old is dead and the new is here. This is the truth, that we are in Christ, that we are made new in him. I am made new in him. My old self is dead. Dead, dead, dead. And the issue then is identity. Do I continue to tell myself I’m an old sinner or do I believe what Christ tells me about being newly holy? I do this all the time. I realize that all of my worry and anxiety and analyzing stems from a belief that I am not forgiven or that I am not good enough, that I am trying to make up for something. And I fall short every time because it’s just not true. None of that is who God made me to be and none of that worrying and trying is glorifying to him. Bell puts it this way quoting the verse from Romans: ‘”Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” None. No shame. No list of what is held against us. No record of wrongs. It has simply been done away with. It is no longer an issue. Bringing it up is pointless. Beating myself up is pointless.’ Brilliant. How often do I do this? How much time do I waste beating myself up over something that God’s already forgiven? Every time I come back to an issue begging forgiveness on it, God’s response is, ‘What are you talking about?’ It’s rather insulting to God to not believe in forgiveness. It’s like saying Christ’s death wasn’t good enough. Of course it’s good enough. It’s the only thing that’s good enough. I can’t earn what I already have. Yes, I’ll stumble, but that’s when I need to confess it and then move on! It’s this moving on that I’m not so great at. Yet. I will learn.

Bell also uses the story of the prodigal son to illustrate this. Yes, we are forgiven just as the younger son is forgiven, but we also fill the role of the elder son who complained when Dad threw the party for the other son’s return. ‘I never got a party!’ he complains. To which the father says, ‘Because you were always with me and all that I have is yours.’ Bell says, ‘The elder son’s problem isn’t that he doesn’t have anything; it’s that he’s had it all along but refused to trust that it was really true. We cannot earn what we have always had. What we can do is trust that what God keeps insisting is true about us is actually true.’ Called out. This is me. I am forgiven. I am new. I am in Christ. I am a daughter of the King. I have the blessings of God right here, right now. I have the love of God right here, right now. I even have the voice of God right here, right now. My choice is to believe it.

January 1, 2010; 14.45

Well this is interesting. I’m currently sitting in the Coleraine train station and will be here for another 2 and a half hours. Lovely. I called yesterday about the bus from Ballintoy to Belfast and was told it would come at 1.00. So at 1.15 I called again to be told that since it’s a holiday there are no buses to Belfast. But there are trains from Coleraine. So I got a taxi to Coleraine (for £20, by the way) and was 60 seconds too late to get the first train to Great Victoria Street. I literally watched it leave. Ugh. So the next train isn’t until 5.10. Wonderful. I keep telling myself this is part of the adventure, but I did go into the bathroom and cry for a minute. Foreign girl traveling solo, struck in a train station while on holiday. Ha! There are movies about this. (It’s called The Terminal.) Oh well. I’ve got my iPod and a deck of cards if I get really bored. My own fault for trying to travel on a holiday and not looking into beforehand. Live and learn.

January 1, 2010; 19.00

Spending all day in a quiet train station gives you ample time to re-read your journal. The whole thing. All 3 ½ years. Several things strike me: 1) I must do this reading thing more often; I really do have good ideas. 2) I will do something relating to social justice as my work. This is my passion. This is my calling. 3) The only ‘person’ who deserves this amount of emotional energy and anxiety is Christ. Period. Starting now I will give it to him.