I have never understood money. I know it serves it’s purpose and I like it enough when I want a pair of shoes, but when it comes to understanding how much I have, how much I need and what the best thing is to do with it is, I am hopelessly confused. I was the kid in college who, when my parents called and asked if my checkbook was balanced, I’d say, “uh… I put my card in the ATM and money’s coming out, so… I guess…?” My first “job” out of college was a volunteer gig that paid $12 a week so the next two years didn’t afford much opportunity to practice (This weeks budget: a coke, two beers and a burrito. Done). Ever since then I’ve been in denial about money, spending less or more depending on how much I guessed I had. This sometimes works, but I’m finally admitting that this is not a very mature approach to life. I’m gradually coming to terms with the fact that just because I don’t understand money, find it incredibly boring and don’t see why I need to waste my time with it, it’s still very much a reality.
My roommate came home with a logical next step. Her church, Lowcountry Community, was beginning the Dave Ramsey Financial Peace University. The website advertised skills in budgeting, investing and getting rid of debt. I could make a list of things I would rather be doing than thinking about these topics. It would begin with “getting a tooth filled” and end with “spend an afternoon at the DMV”, but that responsible voice in my head that gets ignored all to frequently won this argument, so Monday night found me sitting in a class while Dave Ramsey lectured me from a screen about investments and saving for retirement.
Hold up. Retirement? Good grief. I’m still paying off my college loans. I almost got up and left. I had begrudgingly signed up for this to learn to manage my money for now, not think forty years into the future. I can hardly get my act together enough to grocery shop for three days in advance. This was just too much.
However, when I finally stopped procrastinating and found myself sitting in my room with my bank statements, receipts and bills spread out around me on the floor, I had a reality check. It didn’t matter how I “felt” about money. It didn’t matter if I found it boring, if I’d rather be doing anything but think about it, if I’d rather plan my fall wardrobe than retirement. It was still there. (Or, as I’m realizing, not there.) And if I failed to learn how to manage it well, I would find myself at the age of retirement with a lot of problems that I could have avoided.
I’m sure most people are reading this thinking, “way to grow up, Al. Silly girl, it’s about time you started thinking about the reality of the future. You can’t just expect these things to work themselves out!”. I was foolish for many years and I’m finally being responsible. However, I would like to point out that my former approach to money is how many people approach their faith. They say that it’s boring, they don’t understand it, there’s a million things they’d rather be doing, that life is too busy to fit in things like praying and going to church. But the reality is, God is there whether we “understand” Him or not. If I don’t plan for the future, and even for retirement, I can’t expect it all to just work out.
We were all created with an eternal, immortal soul which will spend forever somewhere. Death, judgment, heaven and hell are a reality. Looking at savings spreadsheets, I’ve realized that I need to be investing in my future now because you can’t make it all up later. Similarly, you can’t expect Faith to appear by magic at the hour of your death. St. Augustine, a bishop who lived in the 400’s explained, “In order to see eventually, for the time being believe. Faith does the earning; sight is the reward. If you want to see before you believe, you’re demanding to be paid before the job.” That initial act of Faith, of believing in God and making Him a priority is an investment far more important than any account or 401k. St. Augustine explains, “What you want to see has it’s price. You want to see God; the price of such a tremendous good as that is faith.”
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
That Blessed Union...
This summer I’ve thought a lot about marriage. (Don’t worry, I only introduce myself that way in columns.). Anyways, there’s been a lot happening in the world to turn my thoughts in that direction. Some events have been positive-- the weddings and engagements of friends and family. Some have been negative— mock me if you want, but I’m taking Jon and Kate’s break up really hard, and I know none of us will ever think of the Appalachian Trail in the same way, if you know what I mean.
So marriage. “Marriage is what brings us together today… That blessed union, that dream within a dream” (props if you got the Princess Bride shout-out). But I think what we are learning is that for some, marriage isn’t necessarily the dream within a dream that the Disney princesses led us to believe. Many of the bridal shower and wedding reception conversations I’ve had with friends have drifted to all the negative press that marriage has been getting, leading us to wonder, “why are we, as a society, so bad at this? I mean, if Jon and Kate, with their organic meals and perfect hair couldn’t get it together for Aaden and his seven siblings, who stands a chance?”
I’d like to propose (no pun intended) that it’s because we’ve forgotten the point of marriage in the first place. Flipping through cards in the wedding section confirmed this suspicion as I opened to greetings that sounded more like they belonged on “get well” cards (No joke, I honestly read one that said “here’s hoping it all works out!”). Marriage seems to be in trouble. Not for want of self help books, because I think we get that men are from Mars and women are from Venus (and where does that leave us now that Pluto’s not a planet?). No, we’ve got astronomy down. To understand marriage, we need to understand God and His Church.
I can only speak for team Catholic, but marriage is a Sacrament. A sacrament is an outward sign instituted by Christ that gives us grace. I think of Sacraments as God’s answer to our ADHD society, knowing that we need tangible signs to remind us of Him and the grace He gives us to live our lives. Team Catholic has seven such signs that can be found in Scipture and passed down in Tradition from the time of Christ. All seven infuse grace into the moments of life when we need to remember that God is here (for example, Baptism to celebrate new life, Confession when we sin… you get the idea). These signs don’t replace God, but remind us of his presence in significant moments.
Although it may seem like it, Marriage was not created by Hallmark or David’s Bridal. God instituted marriage when he looked at Adam in the garden, surrounded by animals, yet realized that, “It is not good that man should be alone” (Genesis 2:18). When he sees Eve, Adam realizes that “This one, at last, is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh…” (Genesis 2:23), Genesis then tells us that this is why a man leaves his father and mother and the two of them become “one body” (Genesis 2:24). The union of man and woman began with Adam and Eve and continues throughout history.
You’re probably thinking, awh, yeah, that’s so sweet. Adam and Eve were, as we’d say in text-lingo, MFEO (made for each other). But what does that have to do with the Church? As was mentioned, sacraments are signs and in the case of marriage, it’s the sign of the union of Christ and the Church. Think about what God did for us here. In Ephesians 5:25, Paul reminds “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loves the Church…”. Christ loved the Church by offering up his whole life on the cross and continues to love us, waiting for the day that we join Him in heaven. God intends that every marriage we see be a reminder of this. Marriage is more than a joint mortgage and a minivan. It’s signifying Christ’s eternal love for the Church. When a man and a woman make vows to each other for as long as they live, Christ intended that it be a reminder to us of His faithfulness to us for eternity. Just like Christ didn’t live to serve himself in his life and death, husbands and wives look to Christ to remember that it’s about serving one another and the children that eventually come from their union.
My friend recently got married and she made spreadsheets for the ceremony and reception to clarify to her attendants who was to be present and when. When it came time to exchange the vows the “participants” column listed “Christ” above her and her fiancé to remind them, from the beginning, Who this was all about. It was her day, but she was very aware that she was about to follow Christ in a new way through being a sign of His love for the Church. Maybe not what a Disney princess would do, but a pretty incredible vocation nonetheless. When we look around and wonder what’s gone wrong, our first step should be looking to Christ’s love for the Church as the model of Love.
So marriage. “Marriage is what brings us together today… That blessed union, that dream within a dream” (props if you got the Princess Bride shout-out). But I think what we are learning is that for some, marriage isn’t necessarily the dream within a dream that the Disney princesses led us to believe. Many of the bridal shower and wedding reception conversations I’ve had with friends have drifted to all the negative press that marriage has been getting, leading us to wonder, “why are we, as a society, so bad at this? I mean, if Jon and Kate, with their organic meals and perfect hair couldn’t get it together for Aaden and his seven siblings, who stands a chance?”
I’d like to propose (no pun intended) that it’s because we’ve forgotten the point of marriage in the first place. Flipping through cards in the wedding section confirmed this suspicion as I opened to greetings that sounded more like they belonged on “get well” cards (No joke, I honestly read one that said “here’s hoping it all works out!”). Marriage seems to be in trouble. Not for want of self help books, because I think we get that men are from Mars and women are from Venus (and where does that leave us now that Pluto’s not a planet?). No, we’ve got astronomy down. To understand marriage, we need to understand God and His Church.
I can only speak for team Catholic, but marriage is a Sacrament. A sacrament is an outward sign instituted by Christ that gives us grace. I think of Sacraments as God’s answer to our ADHD society, knowing that we need tangible signs to remind us of Him and the grace He gives us to live our lives. Team Catholic has seven such signs that can be found in Scipture and passed down in Tradition from the time of Christ. All seven infuse grace into the moments of life when we need to remember that God is here (for example, Baptism to celebrate new life, Confession when we sin… you get the idea). These signs don’t replace God, but remind us of his presence in significant moments.
Although it may seem like it, Marriage was not created by Hallmark or David’s Bridal. God instituted marriage when he looked at Adam in the garden, surrounded by animals, yet realized that, “It is not good that man should be alone” (Genesis 2:18). When he sees Eve, Adam realizes that “This one, at last, is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh…” (Genesis 2:23), Genesis then tells us that this is why a man leaves his father and mother and the two of them become “one body” (Genesis 2:24). The union of man and woman began with Adam and Eve and continues throughout history.
You’re probably thinking, awh, yeah, that’s so sweet. Adam and Eve were, as we’d say in text-lingo, MFEO (made for each other). But what does that have to do with the Church? As was mentioned, sacraments are signs and in the case of marriage, it’s the sign of the union of Christ and the Church. Think about what God did for us here. In Ephesians 5:25, Paul reminds “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loves the Church…”. Christ loved the Church by offering up his whole life on the cross and continues to love us, waiting for the day that we join Him in heaven. God intends that every marriage we see be a reminder of this. Marriage is more than a joint mortgage and a minivan. It’s signifying Christ’s eternal love for the Church. When a man and a woman make vows to each other for as long as they live, Christ intended that it be a reminder to us of His faithfulness to us for eternity. Just like Christ didn’t live to serve himself in his life and death, husbands and wives look to Christ to remember that it’s about serving one another and the children that eventually come from their union.
My friend recently got married and she made spreadsheets for the ceremony and reception to clarify to her attendants who was to be present and when. When it came time to exchange the vows the “participants” column listed “Christ” above her and her fiancé to remind them, from the beginning, Who this was all about. It was her day, but she was very aware that she was about to follow Christ in a new way through being a sign of His love for the Church. Maybe not what a Disney princess would do, but a pretty incredible vocation nonetheless. When we look around and wonder what’s gone wrong, our first step should be looking to Christ’s love for the Church as the model of Love.
Father Gus
Originally published August 13
I received a text message on my way to Church last weekend that read, “Hey everybody… Fr. Gus died this morning in his sleep… pray for the repose of his soul and pass on this prayer.”
That text, or the event that it reported, put a lot in perspective that morning. Unlike most South Carolinians who to attend USC, Clemson and occasionally College of Charleston, my senior year of high school I set my sights on the small liberal arts school, Franciscan University of Steubenville in Ohio (that’s Steu BEN ville. Not “stupid ville”. Hometown of Dean Martin and most densely polluted air you’ll encounter outside of Beijing). Yes, in a switch from the norm, I loaded up a blue minivan and went to Ohio. What led me to attend college out of state and 12 hours away was the fact that this college was run by the Franciscans, an order of Catholic priests who follow the spirituality of St. Francis of Assisi.
St. Francis of Assisi, born in the early 1100’s, is famous as being the made into the only figurine to feed more birds than that “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” statue, but he is worth getting to know at a deeper level for his decision to renounce the wealth of his family and radically live all that is taught in the Scriptures, especially to serve Christ in the poor. Many chose to follow his example in the years that followed, to this day the Franciscans are some of Team Catholic’s most valuable players. St. Francis taught a life of conversion, that we’re to grow in holiness through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. This spirituality permeated my experience at college, The Franciscans taught us that following Christ, “the way, the truth and the life” meant pursuing both knowledge of God and of the world-- Faith and Reason-- to prepare us for the “real world”.
At an age where one makes decisions that affect the rest of their life (what should I do when I graduate? Should I get married? What do I actually believe? How would I look with a goatee?) Father Gus was a Franciscan on campus who lead us to focus on what was important, but with a loving example. He’d give students the coat off his back in the bitter Ohio winter, would never let a woman walk next to the road and spent hours each week in the dormitory chaplain’s office listening to students talk about anything and everything. He also had a mischievous sense of humor and would often tell everyone that no one remembered his birthday. When his fellow priests would ask why, he’s simply gesture knowingly to all the cakes that were being delivered to their house. He’d regularly put guys in headlocks and chase students down to try to trip them with his cane. He loved us and we knew it, which is why he could get away with calling us out on sin. He saw himself as our spiritual father, and knew that in the end, life was more than graduating and getting jobs and all the post college stuff we were preoccupied with. He was always reminding us that in the end, life was about getting to heaven.
When I received the text message about his death, I was overwhelmed that I now knew someone in heaven. It was like hearing that a friend had finally come home after a long trip. Everything in his life had been oriented towards this moment, when he’d leave earth and meet God face to face. I was not alone in this thought. Facebook statuses, twitters and texts shot around all afternoon from Franciscan graduates now spread out all over the U.S, saying things like, “Father Gus, put Jesus in a headlock ‘til I get there!” and “Pray for me until we meet again!”. The thought of the world minus Father Gus is sad, but as Church began that morning, all I could think was that I this was the mystery St. Paul described, “it is Christ in you, the hope for glory!” (Colossians 1:27). Fr. Gus’s life and death all reminded us what we hope for.
In college, I was encouraged to seek both faith and reason as I matured to adulthood. This is because we have all been created to be in Heaven. Forever. It’s so easy to get caught up in the minutia of day to day living and forget that this isn’t all there is. The life and death of someone like Father Gus snapped me out of my daily routine of checking facebook, hanging out with friends and deciding between a blackberry and iphone and gave me a reality check. I was reminded of what St. Paul told the Hebrews—“we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us” (Hebrews 12:1). A cloud of witnesses is watching and waiting. Are you running to win?
I received a text message on my way to Church last weekend that read, “Hey everybody… Fr. Gus died this morning in his sleep… pray for the repose of his soul and pass on this prayer.”
That text, or the event that it reported, put a lot in perspective that morning. Unlike most South Carolinians who to attend USC, Clemson and occasionally College of Charleston, my senior year of high school I set my sights on the small liberal arts school, Franciscan University of Steubenville in Ohio (that’s Steu BEN ville. Not “stupid ville”. Hometown of Dean Martin and most densely polluted air you’ll encounter outside of Beijing). Yes, in a switch from the norm, I loaded up a blue minivan and went to Ohio. What led me to attend college out of state and 12 hours away was the fact that this college was run by the Franciscans, an order of Catholic priests who follow the spirituality of St. Francis of Assisi.
St. Francis of Assisi, born in the early 1100’s, is famous as being the made into the only figurine to feed more birds than that “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” statue, but he is worth getting to know at a deeper level for his decision to renounce the wealth of his family and radically live all that is taught in the Scriptures, especially to serve Christ in the poor. Many chose to follow his example in the years that followed, to this day the Franciscans are some of Team Catholic’s most valuable players. St. Francis taught a life of conversion, that we’re to grow in holiness through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. This spirituality permeated my experience at college, The Franciscans taught us that following Christ, “the way, the truth and the life” meant pursuing both knowledge of God and of the world-- Faith and Reason-- to prepare us for the “real world”.
At an age where one makes decisions that affect the rest of their life (what should I do when I graduate? Should I get married? What do I actually believe? How would I look with a goatee?) Father Gus was a Franciscan on campus who lead us to focus on what was important, but with a loving example. He’d give students the coat off his back in the bitter Ohio winter, would never let a woman walk next to the road and spent hours each week in the dormitory chaplain’s office listening to students talk about anything and everything. He also had a mischievous sense of humor and would often tell everyone that no one remembered his birthday. When his fellow priests would ask why, he’s simply gesture knowingly to all the cakes that were being delivered to their house. He’d regularly put guys in headlocks and chase students down to try to trip them with his cane. He loved us and we knew it, which is why he could get away with calling us out on sin. He saw himself as our spiritual father, and knew that in the end, life was more than graduating and getting jobs and all the post college stuff we were preoccupied with. He was always reminding us that in the end, life was about getting to heaven.
When I received the text message about his death, I was overwhelmed that I now knew someone in heaven. It was like hearing that a friend had finally come home after a long trip. Everything in his life had been oriented towards this moment, when he’d leave earth and meet God face to face. I was not alone in this thought. Facebook statuses, twitters and texts shot around all afternoon from Franciscan graduates now spread out all over the U.S, saying things like, “Father Gus, put Jesus in a headlock ‘til I get there!” and “Pray for me until we meet again!”. The thought of the world minus Father Gus is sad, but as Church began that morning, all I could think was that I this was the mystery St. Paul described, “it is Christ in you, the hope for glory!” (Colossians 1:27). Fr. Gus’s life and death all reminded us what we hope for.
In college, I was encouraged to seek both faith and reason as I matured to adulthood. This is because we have all been created to be in Heaven. Forever. It’s so easy to get caught up in the minutia of day to day living and forget that this isn’t all there is. The life and death of someone like Father Gus snapped me out of my daily routine of checking facebook, hanging out with friends and deciding between a blackberry and iphone and gave me a reality check. I was reminded of what St. Paul told the Hebrews—“we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us” (Hebrews 12:1). A cloud of witnesses is watching and waiting. Are you running to win?
Twitters from Workcamp
originally published July 15
I’m sure you’ve run into a few youth groups on trips this summer, at rest stops, MacDonalds… or hospitals… and you may have wondered what was going through the minds of the adults that are with them. I just spent a week at Catholic HEART workcamp (affectionately abbreviated to “CHWC”) with sixteen teens and two brave adult chaperones. We slept on the floor, ate cafeteria food and spent hours each day serving the community through various painting, repair and yardwork projects. We had a blast and of course I twittered the whole time since nowadays, texting people about how much fun you’re having is the only way to authenticate it. I thought I’d share the highlights for those of you who might not be up on micro-blogging and would like to see shapshots of the week, in 140 characters or less:
Saturday: prepping for CHWC camp which we jet-set off for in about 20 hours.... I'm so g-l-a-m-o-r-o-u-s.... the Fergie of youth ministry. You heard me. Fergie. I’m so 3008, you’re so 2000 and late.
Traded my civic for a minivan this week. I am a soccer mom poser. So much for being Fergie. She probably does not jet-set off in a minivan. However, Fergie does not drive 7 high school students, which I am doing. Are we there yet?
Sunday: After a week with middle schoolers... I have a middle school work group at CHWC... There's a lesson here. Patience. Lots of patience. Part of the process of this week is that they put everyone, including adult leaders, with people they don’t know. Our team is made up of sixth and seventh graders and one other adult. We’ve been assigned to an assisted living center to do yard work, painting and power washing. I have just spent a week with middle school students at Bible Camp and have witnessed first-hand their concentration abilities. I’m trying to stay optimistic about their ability to focus through landscaping two developments.
Monday: One of my teens forgot his toothbrush and asked if I would get “the cheapest guys toothbrush”. When did toothbrushes get gender specific? His friends were at the store with me. They picked out a Barbie toothbrush. He refused it. Not sure how this story ended, but he still had all his teeth by the end of the trip.
10:39 p.m. Whoever is chaperoning the boys in the next room better regulate their kid's noise levels or prepare to come to Jesus at breakfast... Come to find out they were playing dodgeball. At 10:39 p.m. The victims were lined up on the wall they shared with us. Where do youth get their energy?
Tuesday: It's taco Tuesday at CHWC which is up there with shark week when it comes to meaningless yet amazing holidays. Tacos are always served for dinner on Tuesday, it’s gone from being a menu item to an all-out holiday complete with sombreros and theme music. Never have tortillas with a spoonful of meat in them brought about such pomp and circumstance.
10:21 p.m. Two whole days into camp... And I'm only holding two confiscated phones. They’re learning. I am the ultimate fun-stealer, but I take away cell phones when the kids use them at times that they’re supposed to be paying attention to talks or programs. They act like they’re dying at first, but deep down, I think they’re finding communicating in person to be its own reward.
Wednesday: we've been at an assisted living home. Its putting life in perspective. Today, lets appreciate walking, eating and dressing independently. I stand corrected about the abilities of my team—they’ve been doing a great job power washing, painting and planting at the request of the residents. We’ve also had a chance to visit with the residents and talking to them is both inspirational and full of personal challenges. Many of them have told us some neat stories about their lives, their hobbies and the advantages of winning bingo (20 wins gets you $5). However, there have also been pieces of advice such as “use those legs while you still can… enjoy your food while you can still feed yourself… I was married to my best friend for 40 years. You kids find that too…” Being here has reminded me that we all have a terminal illness—it’s called life. How are you spending yours?
4:45 p.m. “I just used your hair dryer to dry my feet”... -one of my teens tells me as I walk into our room. I don’t know how to further elaborate. I’m not even sure why her feet were wet.
Thursday: Last day of work. You know what I've noticed? Middle schoolers wear lots of orthodontia. It makes them spit. Especially when they’re excited, which we are since it’s our last day of work! We landscaped, painted and visited but most importantly I watched kids who, despite their awkward orthodontia and initial discomfort at being in an unfamiliar place with new people, were able to be Christ’s hands and feet and love to the community they were sent to. I’m very proud of them.
Catholic HEART Workcamp is located in Jasper County this week so if you see a group of teens out doing servive projects in our community. If you see them, be sure to yell “Holy C.O.W.!” (Catholics Out Working!) and appreciate that these kids have given up a week of their summer to sleep on a floor, eat tacos and use Barbie tooth brushes… And know if the adult’s hair smells like feet… you know why.
I’m sure you’ve run into a few youth groups on trips this summer, at rest stops, MacDonalds… or hospitals… and you may have wondered what was going through the minds of the adults that are with them. I just spent a week at Catholic HEART workcamp (affectionately abbreviated to “CHWC”) with sixteen teens and two brave adult chaperones. We slept on the floor, ate cafeteria food and spent hours each day serving the community through various painting, repair and yardwork projects. We had a blast and of course I twittered the whole time since nowadays, texting people about how much fun you’re having is the only way to authenticate it. I thought I’d share the highlights for those of you who might not be up on micro-blogging and would like to see shapshots of the week, in 140 characters or less:
Saturday: prepping for CHWC camp which we jet-set off for in about 20 hours.... I'm so g-l-a-m-o-r-o-u-s.... the Fergie of youth ministry. You heard me. Fergie. I’m so 3008, you’re so 2000 and late.
Traded my civic for a minivan this week. I am a soccer mom poser. So much for being Fergie. She probably does not jet-set off in a minivan. However, Fergie does not drive 7 high school students, which I am doing. Are we there yet?
Sunday: After a week with middle schoolers... I have a middle school work group at CHWC... There's a lesson here. Patience. Lots of patience. Part of the process of this week is that they put everyone, including adult leaders, with people they don’t know. Our team is made up of sixth and seventh graders and one other adult. We’ve been assigned to an assisted living center to do yard work, painting and power washing. I have just spent a week with middle school students at Bible Camp and have witnessed first-hand their concentration abilities. I’m trying to stay optimistic about their ability to focus through landscaping two developments.
Monday: One of my teens forgot his toothbrush and asked if I would get “the cheapest guys toothbrush”. When did toothbrushes get gender specific? His friends were at the store with me. They picked out a Barbie toothbrush. He refused it. Not sure how this story ended, but he still had all his teeth by the end of the trip.
10:39 p.m. Whoever is chaperoning the boys in the next room better regulate their kid's noise levels or prepare to come to Jesus at breakfast... Come to find out they were playing dodgeball. At 10:39 p.m. The victims were lined up on the wall they shared with us. Where do youth get their energy?
Tuesday: It's taco Tuesday at CHWC which is up there with shark week when it comes to meaningless yet amazing holidays. Tacos are always served for dinner on Tuesday, it’s gone from being a menu item to an all-out holiday complete with sombreros and theme music. Never have tortillas with a spoonful of meat in them brought about such pomp and circumstance.
10:21 p.m. Two whole days into camp... And I'm only holding two confiscated phones. They’re learning. I am the ultimate fun-stealer, but I take away cell phones when the kids use them at times that they’re supposed to be paying attention to talks or programs. They act like they’re dying at first, but deep down, I think they’re finding communicating in person to be its own reward.
Wednesday: we've been at an assisted living home. Its putting life in perspective. Today, lets appreciate walking, eating and dressing independently. I stand corrected about the abilities of my team—they’ve been doing a great job power washing, painting and planting at the request of the residents. We’ve also had a chance to visit with the residents and talking to them is both inspirational and full of personal challenges. Many of them have told us some neat stories about their lives, their hobbies and the advantages of winning bingo (20 wins gets you $5). However, there have also been pieces of advice such as “use those legs while you still can… enjoy your food while you can still feed yourself… I was married to my best friend for 40 years. You kids find that too…” Being here has reminded me that we all have a terminal illness—it’s called life. How are you spending yours?
4:45 p.m. “I just used your hair dryer to dry my feet”... -one of my teens tells me as I walk into our room. I don’t know how to further elaborate. I’m not even sure why her feet were wet.
Thursday: Last day of work. You know what I've noticed? Middle schoolers wear lots of orthodontia. It makes them spit. Especially when they’re excited, which we are since it’s our last day of work! We landscaped, painted and visited but most importantly I watched kids who, despite their awkward orthodontia and initial discomfort at being in an unfamiliar place with new people, were able to be Christ’s hands and feet and love to the community they were sent to. I’m very proud of them.
Catholic HEART Workcamp is located in Jasper County this week so if you see a group of teens out doing servive projects in our community. If you see them, be sure to yell “Holy C.O.W.!” (Catholics Out Working!) and appreciate that these kids have given up a week of their summer to sleep on a floor, eat tacos and use Barbie tooth brushes… And know if the adult’s hair smells like feet… you know why.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
What I learned this year at summer camp: God is love, and grits are good
in the Bluffton Packet, Wed. July 1:
"Guess what's in my mouth?"
This morning, instead of my normal routine of coffee in my living room while checking news and Facebook, I had the pleasure of dining with the future of the Church -- the high school counselors at summer camp. This involved me picking at my eggs and toast and trying to pry my eyelids open while the boy across from me turned to his friend and began a new game.
"Dude, guess what's in my mouth?"
"Toast?"
"Nope."
"Eggs?"
"Nope."
"Grits?"
Ooh, we had a winner. And the boy rewarded his friend with the proof, displayed in all its half-chewed glory on his stuck-out tongue.
We're only on day one here at camp, but it gets better. Another counselor has been sneaking up on people while wearing a gorilla suit, while others engage in soda-chugging contests. Also I ended the first night elbow-deep in a broken toilet, fixing an archaic flushing mechanism.
I've written about mission trips before, but summer Bible camps are another time-honored (if not more conventional) summer youth ministry staple. Sure, they've gotten bad press from documentaries like "Jesus Camp" and various "SNL" sketches, but in reality, minus the thrilling conclusion of the mouth-guessing game, there's something about spending a week away from home, eating too many carbs and sharing a toilet and shower with eight others that brings you closer to God.
Why? It's freeing to break away from our daily routine to be in a new and unfamiliar environment. As we told the campers at their first meeting, forget what you think you know about each other. This week, see as God sees. You're meeting people for the first time, and just because you don't like to hang out with people who shop at Hollister or listen to Linkin Park doesn't mean you can't be friends with the guy in your cabin who appears to do both.
The funny thing is, while I was giving this advice to the charges in front of me, at some point I began lecturing myself.This lesson that the campers were learning for the first time was one that I had been taught over and over, yet still fail to put into practice. How often do I meet someone and, based on a first impression, think I know everything about him or her? I may be older, but at that moment am I any more mature than the teenage girl in all black who dramatically tells me that she cannot be friends with a cheerleader in pink and gingham hair ribbons? Just like our middle school campers need to be reminded not to judge their peers, I need to be reminded that God doesn't look at my neighbor and judge him based on their age, race or education. It's become cliché, but if we are truly attempting to follow Christ, avoiding judgment based on first impressions is advice we cannot hear often enough.
The Gospel of Matthew reminds us "as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you" (Matthew 7:1-2). That's not saying that we need to tolerate everything, but that we need to remember that Christ didn't ask us for a list of our skills or accomplishments before he lovingly gave His life for us on the cross. Unconditional love is just that, and if that's the way we've been loved, it's what we're to pass along to others. The ways we love change as we get older, but the lessons we learn from summer camp stay the same-- don't judge by first impressions, but pray for the grace to see those around us as God does.
When Alison Griswold is not at summer camp she can be found as the Director of Youth Ministry at St. Francis by the Sea Catholic Church.
"Guess what's in my mouth?"
This morning, instead of my normal routine of coffee in my living room while checking news and Facebook, I had the pleasure of dining with the future of the Church -- the high school counselors at summer camp. This involved me picking at my eggs and toast and trying to pry my eyelids open while the boy across from me turned to his friend and began a new game.
"Dude, guess what's in my mouth?"
"Toast?"
"Nope."
"Eggs?"
"Nope."
"Grits?"
Ooh, we had a winner. And the boy rewarded his friend with the proof, displayed in all its half-chewed glory on his stuck-out tongue.
We're only on day one here at camp, but it gets better. Another counselor has been sneaking up on people while wearing a gorilla suit, while others engage in soda-chugging contests. Also I ended the first night elbow-deep in a broken toilet, fixing an archaic flushing mechanism.
I've written about mission trips before, but summer Bible camps are another time-honored (if not more conventional) summer youth ministry staple. Sure, they've gotten bad press from documentaries like "Jesus Camp" and various "SNL" sketches, but in reality, minus the thrilling conclusion of the mouth-guessing game, there's something about spending a week away from home, eating too many carbs and sharing a toilet and shower with eight others that brings you closer to God.
Why? It's freeing to break away from our daily routine to be in a new and unfamiliar environment. As we told the campers at their first meeting, forget what you think you know about each other. This week, see as God sees. You're meeting people for the first time, and just because you don't like to hang out with people who shop at Hollister or listen to Linkin Park doesn't mean you can't be friends with the guy in your cabin who appears to do both.
The funny thing is, while I was giving this advice to the charges in front of me, at some point I began lecturing myself.This lesson that the campers were learning for the first time was one that I had been taught over and over, yet still fail to put into practice. How often do I meet someone and, based on a first impression, think I know everything about him or her? I may be older, but at that moment am I any more mature than the teenage girl in all black who dramatically tells me that she cannot be friends with a cheerleader in pink and gingham hair ribbons? Just like our middle school campers need to be reminded not to judge their peers, I need to be reminded that God doesn't look at my neighbor and judge him based on their age, race or education. It's become cliché, but if we are truly attempting to follow Christ, avoiding judgment based on first impressions is advice we cannot hear often enough.
The Gospel of Matthew reminds us "as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you" (Matthew 7:1-2). That's not saying that we need to tolerate everything, but that we need to remember that Christ didn't ask us for a list of our skills or accomplishments before he lovingly gave His life for us on the cross. Unconditional love is just that, and if that's the way we've been loved, it's what we're to pass along to others. The ways we love change as we get older, but the lessons we learn from summer camp stay the same-- don't judge by first impressions, but pray for the grace to see those around us as God does.
When Alison Griswold is not at summer camp she can be found as the Director of Youth Ministry at St. Francis by the Sea Catholic Church.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Preach the Gospel at All Times...
In the Bluffton Packet, Wed. June 17
You’re probably shocked to hear that despite being a full-time youth minister and very part-time pastor’s corner columnist, I still find myself in need of extra cash. The combination of an iTunes habit and having to replace my car last year after accidentally breaking it (note: when your engine overheats, stop driving. Immediately.) occasionally leaves me… financially challenged. Fortunately, I am multi-talented and when there are no more quarters to be found in the seat cushions, I call a generous local restaurant and beg for a few shifts. Waitressing is a profession I’ve held on the side since I was fourteen. As my father prophesied when I told him I wanted to major in Theology (right up there with art, music, and English in terms of earning potential), “Well, you can already wait tables. So you’ll never starve.”
I’d rather be playing dodgeball or leading a Bible study, but when necessary I’ve always enjoyed waitressing as another outlet for my obnoxious extrovert tendencies. And, although giving directions to Harbor Town and assuring people that alligators, as a rule, do not eat people (unless you’re from Cincinnati) can get old, Hilton Head affords a lot of neat interaction while re-filling sweet tea and delivering burgers. Plus, I went to college in Ohio, so I can usually connect geographically on some level with my guests (“Yay Buckeyes! I agree, this is the year The Browns are gonna make it…”) Serving food is far from glamorous, but it’s fun. However, there’s one aspect that drives me crazy, even more than the usual server annoyances like kids running around under your tray full of hot coffee or scraping gum off the bottom of a table. It’s the fact that every few days when I go to collect the bill or tip off a table, tucked
anonymously in the check holder is a little religious tract, explaining the steps to accepting Christ as my savior and attaining salvation.
You may be surprised to hear this coming from a professional Christian who spends most of her days (as well as many lock-in-filled nights and weekends) trying to convince teens that life’s questions can be answered in Christ. In no way am I saying that sharing the Gospel is a waste of time and high-gloss paper. However, some ways of sharing are more effective than others.
I’d like to know what tract-droppers imagine happens as they pile back into their SUV’s with their doggie bags. Do they fall asleep at night feeling that they’ve successfully followed Christ’s commandment to “Go and make disciples of all nations”? “Yes” they think to themselves. “That brochure we left for that server will mean one more soul saved from eternal damnation!” Do they imagine that I run into the kitchen, tract in hand, exclaiming “Everybody! We’re on a twenty- minute wait, running out of mashed potatoes, expecting an inspection from DHEC any minute and a guest just said we’re out of toilet paper, but I just got a piece of paper that says someone named Jesus who lived 2000 years ago loves me and died for my sins. Let’s all stop and say this prayer together!”. We then all break into a round of “Kumbaya,” hug, and bring Bibles to the Triangle after work that night. This is just not how it works.
In reality, servers take these tracts and either throw them away or shove them into the pockets that contain the Amway and MaryKay promotional materials they’re given as well. This is occasionally accompanied by a few expletives, asking if being a Christian means tipping 8%. As a Christian, this grieves me because my prayer for my co-workers is that they know that Christ is more than a product to be sold like Amway or MaryKay; He is a person madly in love and seeking a relationship with us all.
I realize that the lack of four-color printers at the time of Christ leaves us to wonder whether He would’ve saved time and effort by using tracts, but I think that despite technological differences, we can look at how Christ lived and see that He shared his message through relationships, sitting with tax collectors and prostitutes and conversing with them. Through this people came to understand that truth is more than an idea, it’s a person. Sociologist Rodney Stark set out to investigate how Christianity spread and discovered that it was primarily through personal contact. In The Rise of Christianity, Stark’s extensive research claims that “the primary means of its [Christianity’s] growth was through the united and motivated efforts of the growing numbers of Christian believers, who invited their friends, relatives, and neighbors to share the 'good news’.”
Does that mean you can’t share Christ with the person serving you coffee or chicken finger basket? Of course not! But research and the example of Christ himself shows us that this is done best through a relationship-- asking someone’s name, if they have kids, personally inviting them to a program or service at your church. The encounter with your joy will speak much louder than any nameless tract ever will.
Alison Griswold can be left a tract at St. Francis by the Sea where she is the Director of Youth Ministry, or at a Hilton Head Island restaurant.
You’re probably shocked to hear that despite being a full-time youth minister and very part-time pastor’s corner columnist, I still find myself in need of extra cash. The combination of an iTunes habit and having to replace my car last year after accidentally breaking it (note: when your engine overheats, stop driving. Immediately.) occasionally leaves me… financially challenged. Fortunately, I am multi-talented and when there are no more quarters to be found in the seat cushions, I call a generous local restaurant and beg for a few shifts. Waitressing is a profession I’ve held on the side since I was fourteen. As my father prophesied when I told him I wanted to major in Theology (right up there with art, music, and English in terms of earning potential), “Well, you can already wait tables. So you’ll never starve.”
I’d rather be playing dodgeball or leading a Bible study, but when necessary I’ve always enjoyed waitressing as another outlet for my obnoxious extrovert tendencies. And, although giving directions to Harbor Town and assuring people that alligators, as a rule, do not eat people (unless you’re from Cincinnati) can get old, Hilton Head affords a lot of neat interaction while re-filling sweet tea and delivering burgers. Plus, I went to college in Ohio, so I can usually connect geographically on some level with my guests (“Yay Buckeyes! I agree, this is the year The Browns are gonna make it…”) Serving food is far from glamorous, but it’s fun. However, there’s one aspect that drives me crazy, even more than the usual server annoyances like kids running around under your tray full of hot coffee or scraping gum off the bottom of a table. It’s the fact that every few days when I go to collect the bill or tip off a table, tucked
anonymously in the check holder is a little religious tract, explaining the steps to accepting Christ as my savior and attaining salvation.
You may be surprised to hear this coming from a professional Christian who spends most of her days (as well as many lock-in-filled nights and weekends) trying to convince teens that life’s questions can be answered in Christ. In no way am I saying that sharing the Gospel is a waste of time and high-gloss paper. However, some ways of sharing are more effective than others.
I’d like to know what tract-droppers imagine happens as they pile back into their SUV’s with their doggie bags. Do they fall asleep at night feeling that they’ve successfully followed Christ’s commandment to “Go and make disciples of all nations”? “Yes” they think to themselves. “That brochure we left for that server will mean one more soul saved from eternal damnation!” Do they imagine that I run into the kitchen, tract in hand, exclaiming “Everybody! We’re on a twenty- minute wait, running out of mashed potatoes, expecting an inspection from DHEC any minute and a guest just said we’re out of toilet paper, but I just got a piece of paper that says someone named Jesus who lived 2000 years ago loves me and died for my sins. Let’s all stop and say this prayer together!”. We then all break into a round of “Kumbaya,” hug, and bring Bibles to the Triangle after work that night. This is just not how it works.
In reality, servers take these tracts and either throw them away or shove them into the pockets that contain the Amway and MaryKay promotional materials they’re given as well. This is occasionally accompanied by a few expletives, asking if being a Christian means tipping 8%. As a Christian, this grieves me because my prayer for my co-workers is that they know that Christ is more than a product to be sold like Amway or MaryKay; He is a person madly in love and seeking a relationship with us all.
I realize that the lack of four-color printers at the time of Christ leaves us to wonder whether He would’ve saved time and effort by using tracts, but I think that despite technological differences, we can look at how Christ lived and see that He shared his message through relationships, sitting with tax collectors and prostitutes and conversing with them. Through this people came to understand that truth is more than an idea, it’s a person. Sociologist Rodney Stark set out to investigate how Christianity spread and discovered that it was primarily through personal contact. In The Rise of Christianity, Stark’s extensive research claims that “the primary means of its [Christianity’s] growth was through the united and motivated efforts of the growing numbers of Christian believers, who invited their friends, relatives, and neighbors to share the 'good news’.”
Does that mean you can’t share Christ with the person serving you coffee or chicken finger basket? Of course not! But research and the example of Christ himself shows us that this is done best through a relationship-- asking someone’s name, if they have kids, personally inviting them to a program or service at your church. The encounter with your joy will speak much louder than any nameless tract ever will.
Alison Griswold can be left a tract at St. Francis by the Sea where she is the Director of Youth Ministry, or at a Hilton Head Island restaurant.
It May Take A Village, But Only Two Are Permant Residents
originally published in the bluffton packet:
The more parents I meet, the more convinced I am that parenting is the most challenging and unappreciated job in the world. If there are any teens reading this, stop rolling your eyes or they’re going to get stuck that way. Mark my words, someday you’ll thank mom and dad not just for keeping you fed and clothed but also for the rules and the “no’s” and the lectures about “life lessons”. But note that I said you will thank them someday, not now. Only very precocious teens realize what’s best for them now. The rest of you are not going to like what follows so save your angst for your micro-blogging and skip this; it’s a pep-talk for mom and dad.
“Parents: the anti-drug.” There’s a reason that millions of dollars are being invested in this advertising campaign. Studies have shown that teachers, coaches, friends, and even, ahem, youth ministers having a really good hair day are not as influential as are parents in the lives of their teenagers. A speaker I heard said it best when she reminded youth ministers that “Parents are the heroes… you are just a tool in their tool belt.” The best classes, programs, and ministries in the world cannot replace parents in the lives of teens. In the end, parents spend the most time with their kids, set the rules, and enforce consequences. It may take a village, but only two people have established residency. The rest of us are tourists that provide some seasonal support and will eventually move on. Like good tourists, we should do all we can to ensure that the locals are receiving their proper due.
I don’t know when the media began their vendetta against parents, but it’s clearly present and affecting us all. Consider this: as a child, my favorite thing to watch was “The Cosby Show.” Remember how Dr. and Mrs. Huxtable were portrayed as involved parents who dealt with real-world issues but always had the respect of their kids and the final say? They were pretty cool. I would’ve loved to have been BFF’s with Rudy for a chance to hang out with her mom and dad. Contrast this with the popular T.V. show “Family Guy” which portrays parents Peter and Lois as inattentive, self-absorbed, and often modeling immoral and illegal activities. This is a glaring example but not the only one. Network television, MTV, advertisers and even Nickelodeon and Disney are on a mission to make mom and dad look really lame and completely undeserving of honor. This parody, coupled with disrespect from their kids must make parents wonder if all this
grief is really worth it.
As the season of proms, graduations, summer camps and teen nights approach, I encourage parents who know that the aforementioned activities mean not just fun for their children but also a lot of heated conversations about curfews, rules, and standards. I took an informal poll of my peers and we all agreed that we gave our parents the most grief for rules that kept us happy, healthy, and holy. As teenagers, we were mortified when our parents called to check if our friends’ parents would be home when we spent the night, dropped us off at youth group and came in to meet the adults in charge, and made us change when we tried to leave the house wearing a skirt only slightly longer than the belt holding it up (and then the skirt would mysteriously get lost at the dry cleaners… what was up with that?). We all can remember the tearful accusations of, “I can’t believe you don’t trust me to make good choices when I’m out, alone, with a boy four
years older than me who likes me for my mind and wants to show me what a full moon looks like on a deserted beach.” Ten years later we look back and are so grateful that our parents were parents when we needed them to be, despite our declarations that we hated them for ruining our lives.
So as this season of warmer weather, later nights and teens pushing the limits comes round, remember that even Jesus gave Mary and Joseph a few sleepless nights. When Christ reached the age of twelve He disappeared for three days, causing Mary to exclaim, “Why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety!” (Luke 2:48)- surely words that all moms and dads can relate to. Know that Christ “grew in wisdom and age and favor before God and man” (Luke 2:52) and while it might not always seem that poetic, it’s parenting, and someday, you will be thanked. It will be later than and never as much as you deserve, but you will be thanked.
The more parents I meet, the more convinced I am that parenting is the most challenging and unappreciated job in the world. If there are any teens reading this, stop rolling your eyes or they’re going to get stuck that way. Mark my words, someday you’ll thank mom and dad not just for keeping you fed and clothed but also for the rules and the “no’s” and the lectures about “life lessons”. But note that I said you will thank them someday, not now. Only very precocious teens realize what’s best for them now. The rest of you are not going to like what follows so save your angst for your micro-blogging and skip this; it’s a pep-talk for mom and dad.
“Parents: the anti-drug.” There’s a reason that millions of dollars are being invested in this advertising campaign. Studies have shown that teachers, coaches, friends, and even, ahem, youth ministers having a really good hair day are not as influential as are parents in the lives of their teenagers. A speaker I heard said it best when she reminded youth ministers that “Parents are the heroes… you are just a tool in their tool belt.” The best classes, programs, and ministries in the world cannot replace parents in the lives of teens. In the end, parents spend the most time with their kids, set the rules, and enforce consequences. It may take a village, but only two people have established residency. The rest of us are tourists that provide some seasonal support and will eventually move on. Like good tourists, we should do all we can to ensure that the locals are receiving their proper due.
I don’t know when the media began their vendetta against parents, but it’s clearly present and affecting us all. Consider this: as a child, my favorite thing to watch was “The Cosby Show.” Remember how Dr. and Mrs. Huxtable were portrayed as involved parents who dealt with real-world issues but always had the respect of their kids and the final say? They were pretty cool. I would’ve loved to have been BFF’s with Rudy for a chance to hang out with her mom and dad. Contrast this with the popular T.V. show “Family Guy” which portrays parents Peter and Lois as inattentive, self-absorbed, and often modeling immoral and illegal activities. This is a glaring example but not the only one. Network television, MTV, advertisers and even Nickelodeon and Disney are on a mission to make mom and dad look really lame and completely undeserving of honor. This parody, coupled with disrespect from their kids must make parents wonder if all this
grief is really worth it.
As the season of proms, graduations, summer camps and teen nights approach, I encourage parents who know that the aforementioned activities mean not just fun for their children but also a lot of heated conversations about curfews, rules, and standards. I took an informal poll of my peers and we all agreed that we gave our parents the most grief for rules that kept us happy, healthy, and holy. As teenagers, we were mortified when our parents called to check if our friends’ parents would be home when we spent the night, dropped us off at youth group and came in to meet the adults in charge, and made us change when we tried to leave the house wearing a skirt only slightly longer than the belt holding it up (and then the skirt would mysteriously get lost at the dry cleaners… what was up with that?). We all can remember the tearful accusations of, “I can’t believe you don’t trust me to make good choices when I’m out, alone, with a boy four
years older than me who likes me for my mind and wants to show me what a full moon looks like on a deserted beach.” Ten years later we look back and are so grateful that our parents were parents when we needed them to be, despite our declarations that we hated them for ruining our lives.
So as this season of warmer weather, later nights and teens pushing the limits comes round, remember that even Jesus gave Mary and Joseph a few sleepless nights. When Christ reached the age of twelve He disappeared for three days, causing Mary to exclaim, “Why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety!” (Luke 2:48)- surely words that all moms and dads can relate to. Know that Christ “grew in wisdom and age and favor before God and man” (Luke 2:52) and while it might not always seem that poetic, it’s parenting, and someday, you will be thanked. It will be later than and never as much as you deserve, but you will be thanked.
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