tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-141173668686955812024-03-13T21:20:24.201-07:00Granola sentiments.Adventurer. Wanna-be-blogger. Waffle maker.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-69582201103896116932012-11-08T17:34:00.001-08:002012-11-11T19:57:49.704-08:00Hijacked JesusThese are my ponderings on the "popular issues" the church in America faces today.<br />
<br />
These days, spirituality is hot, religion is not. Community is hip, but the church is lame. Both inside the church and out, organized religion is seen as oppressive and irrelevant. Outsiders "like Jesus" but not the church. And insiders have been taught they'll do just dandy with God apart from the church.<br />
<br />
Through my 20 years of conversations I've come to the conclusion that the young tend to be the most disillusioned about religion. (If you just took offense and are about to close out this window because I used the dreaded "r" word, you're the perfect person to keep reading. So keep reading.) It is unquestionable that the youngest generation is impressionable and idealistic. I would say that the young are much less interested in church and religion. But if you think about it, this makes sense. The young have always questioned the old, big and institutional and they have latched onto the eccentric, unique and independent. So it's a natural reaction for the young to be suspect of the historic faith.<br />
<br />
<b>PeaceLoveJesus</b><br />
Over the past year I've heard the same sentence an incredible amount. I'd heard people say it before, but never this much, and never with this much angst and anger behind the words. <br />
"I mean, I like Jesus, I just don't like the church." <br />
I call <b><u>BALDERDASH</u></b>. <br />
I've heard this from the mouth of both the outsider and the one raised in the church (which is even more sad). Karen Ward, an emergent church leader in Seattle (Can I get a "what what" from my hispters!?) was quoted in a book about creating churches in the postmodern culture. She said 95 percent of the nonchurched in her area have a favorable view of Jesus. She also said, "so Jesus is not the problem. It's the church they dislike." First Karen, why are you leading a church? Second, hold the freaking phone Karen. The Jesus that those nonchurched people like is certainly not the Jesus who calls sinners to repentance, the Jesus who claimed to be the Son of the Most High, or the Jesus who died for our sins. <br />
If you think you like Jesus, think again. <br />
You've hijacked him into some hippie, whale-saving, dread-having, open-minded, spiritually ambiguous guy, who loved lesbians and preached peace. This Jesus is pretty much Bono in a bathrobe. This Jesus is more "hang out" than holy. This Jesus has simply taken a razor to the harsh edges of the gospel so that it's not so offensive to <i>you</i>. I don't want a hijacked Jesus who is openhearted and never-offending. Jesus was transcendent and personal, but He warned of judgement and demanded repentance. Sin, salvation and the necessity for new birth were what he preached. The apostles preached Christ dead, buried and raised for our justification. <br />
That was their message and the world hated them for it.<br />
<br />
<b>Despicable Me</b><br />
It's wrong when the church wears unpopularity as a badge of faithfulness. But, on the flip side, we cannot assume that we have failed because outsiders dislike us. I fear that in our self-esteem-oriented, easily offended, suffering-averse world, the church is too eager to be liked. Christianity has an image problem. Sometimes, this is our own dang fault. At other times, our lack of an image problem has been just as damning. We're indistinct from the world. Nothing sets us apart! Nothing suggests we have a transformed life or renewed thinking bound by the Word of God! We lust after academic recognition and cultural validation. We fancy ourselves fashionable and look around hoping the world will take notice of us. Paul, in 1 Corinthians 4: 3-4 says, "But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. In fact, I do not even judge myself. I am now aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me." We need to fall on our faces before the Lord Most High and beg Him to show us our sin. Where sin is, there repentance should follow. Where sin isn't, we need to keep doing church whether it makes us popular or not.<br />
<br />
<b>Insider Angst</b><br />
Ok ok ok. So I get it. Outsiders are unhappy with the church. But why the heck are Christians sick of it!? I have a couple thoughts on this. <br />
1. Church is boring. Sermons are either too long and dogmatic or too breezy and superficial. Worship has become formulaic and services are monotonous. <br />
2. They are tired of the outdated Christian subculture. Today's young adults (that 'young' populace I spoke to earlier) feel left out. The church imbibed one generation's tastes and now we, the offspring, want to spit it out like a baby who doesn't like processed spinach (but who could blame the baby?). It's one thing for the church to feel like a time warp to take you back one hundred years. It's another thing entirely when it brings you back to the 1990's with the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. The church tried too hard to be relevant a generation ago and now we are paying the price. <br />
3. Church-leavers hate the megachurch. They disdain the orange-vested parking lot attendants and the ubiquitous greeters around every corner. You show up, sing songs with a group of people you don't recognize and sip coffee from your Starbucks to-go mug. The megachurch made suburbia king and pastors godlike CEOs. This may seem harsh. It is. But this is what many have come to know as church over the past few decades. <br />
4. Disgruntled insiders feel like church is abusive. We could fill entire stadiums with people hurt by the church. Let's clear one thing: church abuse doesn't mean physical harm or even verbal tirades. Abuse for the "church-is-lame" crew is when someone claims to speak the Word of God without reference to the wider community, when difference is demonized, and when control is exercised to maintain the institution. <br />
5. The Church seems inauthentic. People are just going through the motions. The smiles are as fake as the designer shoes. Greeting-card theology passes for spiritual meat. Doubt, denial, questions and suffering are all embarrassments. The church just isn't real. <br />
<br />
All of this said, I want to caution you. I would never try to refute people's individual experiences with the church. Some people have been hurt bad. But I believe that some of the church-leavers angst may be self-induced. I think it's possible that a good deal of the problem for church-leavers rests with the one leaving and not <i>just</i> the church. I've been hurt by the church. I've been disheartened. But in the end, the biggest problems came from my own heart. I'm not discounting external pressures, or difficult situations or the many ways believers hurt each other. But I feel bad for myself. I lose faith. I doubt the Word of God. I don't want to forgive. I get embittered. I grow lazy. But these are sins in <i>my</i> heart. Others can make life difficult for me. I'm the one who can make it unbearable. But before you write off the church completely, think about this. <br />
<br />
Are you rejecting the institutional church or the <i>faith</i>? <br />
<br />
If "Christians" are interested in a Christianity free from doctrine, demands, and damnation, they aren't just sick of the institutional church and its unflattering quirks; they're tired of the Christian faith altogether. That gets real dangerous.<br />
<br />
Is a car still a car without an engine? Is a head still a head if it doesn't have a body? Is a friend still a friend if he can't stand your wife? The church is God's building with Jesus Christ as the foundation. Christ loves the church and gave himself up for her. He makes her beautiful. She is his bride. She may be a lying, no good, double-crossing poor excuse for a wife, but she's his wife. Who wants a friend who rolls his eyes and sighs every time their wife walks into the room? From what I see in this day and age, some people think Jesus wants friends like that. They roll their eyes and sigh over the church. The church we love is as flawed and screwed up as we are but she is Christ's bride nonetheless. And I might as well have a car without an engine, or a head without a body as despise the wife my Savior loves.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-14877690272778195502012-09-06T10:59:00.001-07:002012-09-06T10:59:44.752-07:00Breaking Points-Part OneI'm named after Naomi's daughter-in-law. And let me tell you. Those are some big shoes to fill. Since my name is Ruth, the book of Ruth is my go-to book when I open my Bible and feel directionless. So I've read it COUNTLESS times. And yet, this last time I read it I learned the most. <br />
<br />
It was surprising to me when I found out that some of my closest friends didn't know the story of Ruth. I didn't have judgement towards them, but because she's my namesake I figured, everybody knows about her, right? Wrong. Let's talk about Ruth. But in order to talk about Ruth we have to start at the beginning.<br />
<br />
The first people who come on the scene is Elimelech, his wife and two sons. No mention of Ruth, she comes later. The first sentence opens the book by telling us that Elimelech was a sojourner in a foreign land. The country of Moab to be specific. This is big because they were Ephrathites. This means that they were from the town of Bethlehem in Judah. So they were Israelites. They were Jewish. And they had traveled to Moab. This could only be from necessity. And we see that it was from necessity. A terrible famine took hold of Bethlehem. This is near impossible for us to grasp. "Oh yea, a famine." But you (most likely) have no conception of what the heck this means. You can definitely conjure up some commercial that zooms in on some skin and bone African kids only wearing a piece of cloth covering their privates, while some rich white guy walks through the slums and talks about how your dollar a week can feed kids in Malawi for 12 years all while Sarah McLachlan rips your heart out with some slow, sad ballad in the background. (Shoot, what did I learn about run-on sentences?....) But we don't get this. We have never experienced anything like this. Even if you've gone hungry for a while, or your family was real poor when you were a kid, we don't really, truly GET this. Even the poorest American is richer than third world countries. We have never experienced a famine. Famine is what drove Elimilech and his family from their Bethlehem home. I can't imagine how bitter and confused they must have been. Bethlehem literally translates "House of meat" or "House of Bread". I can't imagine the thoughts Naomi must have had. "House of bread my a**." Ok. Maybe not, but she was only human. Bitterness and upset had to have crossed her mind and heart at some point. <br />
<br />
Famine in Bethlehem were only the beginning of their troubles. <br />
<br />
To sojourn suggests continual travel. But in the case of this family, it became a more permanent thing. Being an immigrant isn't an easy thing. It brings a gamete of troubles and woes that I don't understand. I was born in the states, I've lived my whole life in the states and I don't foresee any major moves in my near future. (Knock on wood?) I'm a home-body. For sure. But Naomi's homesickness went unrelieved thanks to a lack of modern technology. But homesickness was minor compared to what happened next. In one sentence Elimelech is wiped off the page and out of the story. The death of Elimelech was not a milestone Naomi ever desired to cross. Naomi's heartbreak goes unmentioned for now. A women loses her husband. Many women have lost their husbands. But holy buckets. Take a second. A women loses her husband. I'm sure that Naomi was thrown into grief that would ebb and flow for the rest of her days. But thank God she still had her boys.<br />
<br />
Boys were a big deal back then. They were a big deal because they were the continuation of a line. The name carried on thanks to them. But, girls were a big deal too. They are the oven for the bun after all. Naomi's boys were her pride and joy and all that she had left. Since she was thrown into single-parenthood she had a duty to them. She had to find them wives. (We're getting closer to Ruth! Shoot, spoiler?) Now here, a problem is posed. The boys, Mahlon and Chilion are Israelites and they're in Moab. Moab was not the place to be when searching for that perfect Jewish bride. In fact, Moab was the last place any Jewish parent wanted to search for a wife for their boys. Moab was a land descendant from the incestuous encounter between Lot and his oldest daughter. They served a god who demanded child sacrifice. In short, Moabite women were a Jewish mother's worst fear. In that day and age, fathers negotiated arranged marriages. But with no father to negotiate marriage and no money, land or prospects to entice a Moabite family, the pickings were slim. To be blunt, Ruth and Orpah were not from choice families. Things just kept getting worse. After the marriages to these less than desirable women, a decade passes without any sign of a child. This, is devastating. Like I said earlier, a woman was nothing if she was unable to have children. It's heartbreaking for Ruth, Orpah and Naomi but it's also nothing short of embarrassing.<br />
<br />
That's as bad as it gets, right? <br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
The sons die next. Naomi's precious sons. Ruth and Orpah's beloved husbands. In another simply constructed sentence they disappear from our minds and concerns. We're left grieving with Ruth, Orpah and Naomi. Naomi had nothing now. Literally. She's left with no one to carry on the family line. She's left with two Moabite daughters-in-law. She's left with the epitome of a broken heart. She's left with no hope. In 24 hours, Naomi's already lacking social status hit rock bottom. <br />
<br />
I'd like to believe that Naomi's faith in Yahweh, El Shaddai, Adonai Elohim was strong enough to take these blows. I root for her. I want her to withstand famine, displacement, widowhood and childlessness. But come on. She's a human. She was lost, heartbroken and utterly shaken. Many people brush by Naomi. But I count her as Job. Her struggles were equally as earth shattering. If not more! Job lost his wealth, his children, his health. But Naomi? She lost all of that plus her husband. There was no hope of continuation of her family. That was a shame and loss that couldn't be healed. We seem to think that the more mature believers we are, the thicker our spiritual skin will become. It's a sign of spiritual failure when suffering gets the better of us. BALDERDASH. This throws us into a downward spiral farther away from the One who can take our suffering and provide hope and peace.<br />
<br />
Naomi has a choice to make. Stay in Moab or return to her hometown with some tiny hope that she would find safety and solace with her relatives. So she packs up what little she has and leaves with her daughters-in-law in tow. They get on the road and make it a small way when Naomi abruptly stops them and orders them to go home. Her determination to carry on without them is ironclad. Her words are met with astonishing resistance. I can just imagine that their cries and wails could be heard for at least a mile. Their grief and tears seem to spill onto my hands as I turn the pages. Naomi has definitely underestimated the bonds of love and grief. For the young women, Moab offers hope while Bethlehem only offers permanent widowhood. Naomi can't stifle her feelings anymore. She's overwhelmed with grief. Terrible, abundant grief. She makes another plea for the girls to return to their families. Maybe they can get remarried, have families! After all, they're still so young! There is potential in Moab. But that hope does not flow over to Bethlehem. So Orpah follows her mother-in-law's advice. She goes home. With tears and goodbyes, she returns to Moab. But Ruth, she stays. Ruth pulls up herself up by the bootstraps and tell Naomi to stop arguing. Ruth is determined. It was no halfhearted decision. It was a commitment to the grave. And it was less a decision about Naomi and more a decision about God. <br />
<br />
Ruth was a risk taker.<br />
She made a decision for God.<br />
And He would bless and reward her for her commitment to Him. <br />
<br />
I pray that I will be a risk taker like Ruth. And I pray that you will be a risk taker like Ruth, too. Take risks for God and you don't know what you'll get. <br />
<br />
But I can guarantee that it'll be good in the end.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-56891816477588489882012-07-27T13:10:00.005-07:002012-07-27T13:10:45.700-07:00"Twuuuu Wuuuuuv!"<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I watched the Bachelorette all season, baby.</div>
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Let me tell you: the finale was torturous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Literally torturous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Emily Maynard, the sweet little southern-drawling belle from
Charlotte, North Carolina, was the Bachelorette of the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">century</i></b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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She was perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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She’s blonde, skinny, and a single-mother with at least one
tattoo who has enough self-respect not to sleep with all the guys in the
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She uses words like
“blessed” and phrases like, “God-willing” which makes the Christian sub culture
love her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s got a six-year-old
daughter, which makes the feminists love her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has a few tattoos and just enough mystery that she
appeals to a surprising amount of America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus her story is just so crazy, so you immediately
empathize with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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The season started out with a dose of drama that would
entice the most traditional Amish community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the season progressed hearts were “broken”, tears were
shed by more male models than I’ve ever seen in my life and one little southern
belle “dated” 25 men at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were spectacular dates, harsh words, breathtaking views of the
places visited, and a few cold sores passed around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As guy after guy got the boot, their emotional rant in their
personal interview after the Rose Ceremony went something like, “I’m just so
confused.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or, “I don’t know what
went wrong.” Or, “She’s the love of my life.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All said with a substantial amount of tears and snot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, this really played to the guys’
advantage because they look sensitive and genuinely heart-broken on national
television and they will have a million girls with low self-esteem waiting for
them in their hometown airport ready to do anything for a chance at <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i> with this poor, rejected, handsome,
heart-broken, booty-call seeking bachelor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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It was like a car wreck all season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t look away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were times when the depth of my
soul felt embarrassed and ashamed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I didn’t feel embarrassed for the guys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heck, they did this to themselves!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unless they were truly brainwashed by our culture there’s no
way they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>thought they would
‘find love’ on this nationally televised show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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No, I felt embarrassed before the Preeminent Father of
Love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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We’ve made love a game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We made <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">love</i> a game!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How dare we!? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Love was first shown to us by our Father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How dare we make a show of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How dare we abuse it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How dare we profit from it.</div>
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My embarrassment came with a certain level of
conviction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isn’t there something
I can do to show believers and unbelievers alike that I try to love to the best
of my ability; to show them that I won’t make love a joke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I want people to think of me, “She loves well because the
Father first loved her.”</div>
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I hope Emily Maynard is in love with Jef.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope he’s a good step-dad for
Ricki.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope they make it
work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope they commit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But more than those things, I hope
Emily Maynard finds true love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
hope she encounters the love of a Father who will never leave her, never
forsake her, and never fail her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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I hope Emily finds the truest love possible.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-42629476525620166252012-06-18T14:59:00.000-07:002012-06-18T14:59:29.999-07:00Sabbathsabbath |ˈsabəθ|<br />
noun<br />
1 (often the Sabbath) a day of religious observance and abstinence from work, kept by Jews from Friday evening to Saturday evening, and by most Christians on Sunday.<br />
<br />
On the seventh day, God <b>rested</b>.<br />
<br />
He took time to <b>rest</b>. He has given us minds and bodies and hearts that need <b>rest</b>. And He has given us a specific time in which to do so. God separated us from animals. He gave us working brains and hearts that are tender like His. In the same way we are made in His image and therefore we have a day of <b>rest</b>. <br />
<br />
The Sabbath represents delight and refreshment in the presence of God and each other. The Sabbath is a day to <b>rest</b> and relax in order to better serve God in our actions and work the rest of the week. We wake up every day to a world we did not make and a relationship with God that we do not deserve. Our need to be busy and productive takes away and invades the space God cut out for us to <b>rest</b>!<br />
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God gave us the Sabbath to say, "Stop and be refreshed in <i>my</i> <b>rest</b>."<br />
<br />
He replenishes us. He nourishes us with His faithfulness and His community.<br />
<br />
We do not belong here. <br />
This is not our home. <br />
We do not serve a kingdom ruled by the clock and the tyranny of the urgent. <br />
We serve a God who refreshes us and gives us <b>rest</b>.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-37676435244871069342012-03-13T00:16:00.000-07:002012-03-13T00:16:26.662-07:00I thank God for my piece of apple pie.<b>True statement</b>: If I just get another tattoo, a calculator watch, a new pair of shoes, and a new lens for my camera I will be SO HAPPY.<br />
<br />
I will suddenly become completely and totally content and I won't ever want another thing again. Or at least until the new Apple processor comes out this summer! Or until I see a new phone case I want. Or until I see an adorable summer dress I just HAVE to have!<br />
<br />
Hold the phone. Sounds like I need to watch Madame Blueberry's Veggie Tale episode again. Stuff Mart didn't do her any good. And it doesn't do us any good either. The culture is great at making me think I just can't live without that certain hair styling product and eye makeup. I just won't be as pretty as the girl who uses that product! And everyone knows I <i>have</i> to be as pretty as her! What would I do if I wasn't!?<br />
<br />
News flash America: tons of people survive every day without half the <b>BALDERDASH</b> you buy. So how about you try remembering that the ultimate price was paid for you. So no amount of <b>BALDERDASH</b> will ever make you happy.<br />
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Believer, you have joy, happiness, peace and contentment in Christ. So try seeking it in Christ today, rather than in the isle you just turned down as you read this on your smart phone with your cart full of <b>BALDERDASH</b> you simply don't need.<br />
<br />
"I thank God for this day/for the sun in the sky/for my mom and my dad/for my piece of apple pie/for our home on the ground/for His love that's all around/that's why I say thanks everyday/because a thankful heart is a happy heart/I'm glad for what I have that's an easy way to start/for the love that He shares/'cause He listens to my prayers/that's why I say thanks everyday."<br />
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Such a simple melody and words. But how often we forget them. There's grace for you. And thank God Almighty there's grace for me. Lord knows I need it.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-3689810050010834182011-11-28T16:36:00.000-08:002011-11-28T17:10:10.270-08:00It's Christmas, how can you say no!?GET THIS.<br />
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For you and everyone I know, I have the proposition of a lifetime!! But first let me give you a little background.<br />
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As some of you might know, I work at Ridgeview Elementary school in Olathe. It has changed my life and how I look at people. That sounds cliche, but it's SO true. I have seen more abuse, neglect, poverty, pain, suffering, addiction, and bitterness than I've ever seen in my life. The children with whom I have come in contact have absolutely stolen my heart. I didn't know my heart could feel so much love and so much hurt for children I've known for such a short time. I came into this job with the mindset I would bless these kids and I would change their lives for the better. But God blew that idea out of the water. These children have blessed and changed my life more than I ever thought possible. Let me share a couple stories and then I'll give you my proposition. <br />
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It was a regular Tuesday when I clocked into work. I wasn't on my game. I didn't have a smile on my face and I didn't really want to be there. At 3:40 when the kids are let out of school they walk down to the cafeteria for a snack and the commencement of Y-care. But this day, as I stood ready to greet the children, (I'm hall monitor) my heart was heavy. I wasn't feeling ready or feeling able to deal with the pain that loving these children brings. As the children started streaming down the hall I saw little faces light up at the sight of me. A chorus of "Hola Miss Ruuuuthi!!!" greeted and warmed my heart. I felt a little hand slip into mine. Bright little eyes met mine with a smile that melted my heart. She said, "Miss Ruthi! I have something for you!" A brown paper bag was pushed into my arms. I knelt to be on her level and look into her vibrant brown eyes. I carefully opened the brown paper bag so as to preserve the delicate wrapping. I reached in to pull out a half empty box of expired cereal. "It was the last box in the kitchen!!" she exclaimed in Spanish. I looked up to see those beautiful brown eyes. My own green eyes filled with tears. She had given me food. In her mind she was enabling my existence. She was enabling me to continue to LIVE. She was showing me love.<br />
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Another one of my favorite memories is from a sunny day in September. He and I were playing with chalk on the blacktop of the playground. He drew a heart. I said, "What's that!?" He replied with confidence, "It's a heart! Es un corazon!" He paused with a pensive look on his little first grade face. "I have a heart! And you have a heart! My heart loves you, Miss Ruthi!" I wanted to take him home and make him mine. <br />
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If you haven't at LEAST teared up, I'm tempted to question whether you have a heart.<br />
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Now after dissing you, my proposition!<br />
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In my education class at MidAmerica Nazarene University, we are collecting gifts for the kids at Ridgeview. My professor is friends with the principal at Ridgeview Elementary. So we're collecting brand new clothes, toys and books for my kids! How exciting is that!?!? <br />
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So you might be thinking, "I'm a poor college student, I don't have money for those shenanigans!" I beg to differ. If you even buy one Starbucks cup of coffee a week, you have money to buy a toy or socks or a book for children who don't get "new" things. Their idea of "new" is a coat with holes in it. If you have ever looked at a person in need and recognized it and thought, "Wow, I'm blessed", then think that now! Buy a new book for a kid! Buy a new shirt! Buy a new toy! You don't realize HOW MUCH you will bless these children! You will put radiant little smiles on their beautiful faces! You might not be able to see their joy from this, but rest assured I will tell you all about it! And I'll probably cry when telling you!!<br />
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So don't think about it. Don't think it's a nice gesture that you should probably do. Follow Nike's advice and "JUST DO IT!" Bless a kid a stone's throw away from you! Please my dear friends, please, join me in blessing these kids.<br />
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If you join with me in this I am MORE THAN HAPPY to come pick up the items you buy! If you go to JUCO, bring them to school and I'll come pick them up! If you go to MNU, I'll walk over to your dorm, if you live in Kansas City I WILL DRIVE TO YOU! <br />
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THE DEADLINE FOR THE GIFTS IS THE 15TH OF DECEMBER. HAVE THEM TO ME BEFORE THEN!<br />
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But even if you don't buy a toy, clothes or a book: PRAY. <br />
Pray for my kids. <br />
Pray that they would see believers in their lives. <br />
Pray that they would feel the love of our precious Jesus Christ. <br />
Pray that they would love Him.<br />
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Merry Christmas, my dear friends. God loves us more than we can fathom. How fantastic is that?<br />
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P.M.S.<br />
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. I love these kids. They stole my heart. Thank you for praying for them, and loving them well.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-59657494622984177642011-10-25T18:09:00.000-07:002011-10-25T18:09:53.874-07:00Worshipworship |ˈwər sh əp|<br />
noun<br />
the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity<br />
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Worship is the articulation of admiration for something or someone. Worship is often a word that is associated with religion. However, I would contend that everyone worships. If it's not God, or a god, than it's a something or someone. For some it could be money, sex, acceptance, success, or a myriad of other things. These are idols. Whether we are willing to admit it or not, they are idols. Worship is found in the lives of secularists, agnostics, believers and atheists alike. Worship reveals the somethings and someones we value most. <br />
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How do we truly worship Christ if we so clearly are torn and broken beings who worship somethings and someones? True worship of our Abba Father happens when we put God first. <br />
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Worship is often mistaken for emotion and feeling. But overwhelming emotions we can't explain aren't worship. Just like fuzzy feelings aren't love. Feelings come and go. The joy of the Trinity remains true for all time. In light of the Trinity's beauty and loveliness we everything else on the horizon of our attention takes its proper secondary place. Above and before all other good things remains the Pearl of great price, the King of kings and Lord or lords.<br />
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Brothers, worship Christ. He has loved the unloveable. He has forgiven the unforgivable. He has redeemed you. Open your eyes to His mercy and grace and worship!Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-19871507217510425102011-10-10T21:49:00.000-07:002011-10-10T21:49:57.263-07:00Holy Communioncommunion |kəˈmyoōnyən|<br />
noun<br />
1 the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, esp. when the exchange is on a mental or spiritual level<br />
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Communion. The table where we come to remember Christ's ultimate sacrifice for us. God's radical rescue of mankind and the Old Testament sacrifices of blood are tied together in this beautiful Supper of remembrance. Jesus was the innocent lamb who came for us. How could any human turn away from that gift? Christ opened a door from death to life, from disobedience to relationship, from detachment to unity. How lovely is the gift of His love for us. Communion invites us into relationship with Christ. This sacred table nourishes us and strengthens us with heavenly food. It is the table of eternal union and communion.<br />
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Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again. Christian, delight in that fact. He will come again. He will come for you.<br />
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Participating in the the Lord's Supper is a lovely reminder for me. A reminder of the sacrifice my God has made for ME. He came to earth in human form to die for MY life. He died to save ME. Every time I take communion my heart breaks with joy for His ultimate gift to me. The only thing I could hope to receive from the table is what I do receive. Hope for a better life. Hope in Christ. Hope in Heaven. He gives me hope in Him. I receive Christ at His table. <br />
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<b>The Lord of light stepped forth and said, "This is my body broken for you."</b><br />
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Christian, hope in Christ. Commune with Christ.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-11437105887753689722011-10-09T12:20:00.000-07:002011-10-09T12:20:42.421-07:00Gratitudegratitude |ˈgratəˌt(y)oōd|<br />
noun<br />
the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness <br />
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How many days do I fill with complaints? How many minutes and hours and days do I waste thinking about the things I don't have? Too many. Every minute we have on this beautiful earth is a blessing. Even when it feels like a curse. God has given us everything. We owe Him our praise and adoration! But what do we do? We complain. Let's remember all we have today that we can be glad and have joy!<br />
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Think of this life as a quilt. Let's sow together all of the sadness and happiness, sickness and wealth with the thread of thankfulness. Let's create a beautiful quilt of joy from gratitude. Gratitude to our Savior who owes us nothing and yet so graciously provides us with all things! How lovely is His mercy. How thankful we should be! Gratitude is not because we have perfect lives and nothing goes wrong. Gratitude is because the Spirit of God is within us. He is ever present in our lives! That is reason to have gratitude!<br />
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Dispositions often influence our attitudes toward or against gratitude. For me personally my disposition is a huge indicator of whether or not my heart wants to be thankful. But why does what you want win over what you should do!? I should be thankful for all my Savior gives me. And yet, I complain. So many people are addicted to criticism, analysis and negativity; me included. Our world gives us a constant view of how things should be, what we should say, how we should look and if we're not up to their standards, we are criticized. Our outfits are analyzed and many times the first thing out of our mouth is not positive. Brother, change this. Be the example of Christ to which we are called. Be full of gratitude and thankfulness. Let it flow freely from your heart.<br />
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"Vocatus atque non vocatus, deus aderit." - Erasmus<br />
"Bidden or unbidden, God is present." - Erasmus<br />
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BIDDEN OR UNBIDDEN OUR GOD IS PRESENT.<br />
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Christian be grateful! Have gratitude to your Lord and Savior for He is present! Always.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-87925103876621798922011-09-29T18:59:00.000-07:002011-09-29T18:59:35.102-07:00CelebrationCelebration |ˌseləˈbrā sh ən|<br />
noun<br />
the action of marking one's pleasure at an important event or occasion by engaging in enjoyable, typically social, activity.<br />
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God invented delight. Has that ever crossed your mind? He came up with the idea of delight, joy and celebration! When we celebrate in the Lord, we are a part of the divine life of the Trinity. Celebration doesn't have to be happy. It doesn't bank on our emotions and feelings. Celebration can be solemn or exhilarating, formal or spontaneous! But no matter how you feel, celebration enlarges our capacity to enjoy and serve our wonderful Father! Perfect circumstances and happy feelings are not a necessity for joy and celebration. <br />
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Everyday we are plagued with reasons to be downcast. But God's joy is an unbroken pulse. We are blessed people. We can be freely sorrowful. We do not have to have sorrow like the world's because we have the blessing of a sorrow with HOPE! We have a hope in Christ Jesus that overcomes all else! We are NOT alone---that in itself is reason to celebrate. <br />
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Brothers, CELEBRATE!<br />
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Two people in my life are phenomenal examples of celebration: my mother and my Aunt Jill. Both of them have a joy in Christ that is not matched by many. They exult in the Lord in everything they do! They are true Proverbs 31 women. They find joy in the dark. They find hope in sorrow. They know they have hope through the sorrow. How wonderful to live a life of hope through the sorrow?<br />
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Christian, exult the Lord. Be joyful! Celebrate!Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-85415120172539357762011-08-12T15:37:00.000-07:002011-08-12T15:37:29.139-07:00Of vagabonds and vagrants and rest.<div style="text-align: center;">Vagabonds.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Those vagrants and derelicts. They inhabit our very souls. Something about them draw and allure us. Though we deny it, they are at our very core. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh the life of a drifter. To be tossed to and fro through life. To live without care of time or place, status or the implied caste system that engulfs the subconscious of all cultures. Oh to be free. Free of the judgement, the worries, the stresses. The ramblings of such people, when they unleash the inner vagabond, is a beautiful freedom and release. The liberation of that part of the depraved mortal soul and heart, pouring out in various and sundry outlets is a beauty that cannot be matched or compared to any other. The intricacy of those wandering desires and intentions is irrefutable. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The human heart is an organ unique and utterly necessary to human survival. With that simple fist-sized organ, our very existence relies. It literally pumps life through our veins. It "stimulates" feelings even the most composed of mortals cannot always deny and repress. It causes pain unimaginable to any beast without a soul. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Humans.</i> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Mortals</i>. </div><div style="text-align: center;">The beings who are known as little glimpses of the Father due to being made in His image. We have been pronounced blessed creatures in the Potter's hands. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Blessed with the gift of emotions. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Blessed with a function we often wish to extinguish. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Blessed with the ability to praise with our gifts and talents. Such gifts! Such a blessing we so often mistake for cursing. Oh Creator. Thank you for such a function. Thank you for the ability to express our deep love in a way dumb beasts cannot comprehend. Thank you for worship!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So what will it be? Continue to repress the amazing beauty that is creativity and feeling? Or give way to the terrifying truth that seeps into our souls? </div><div style="text-align: center;">Let out the vagabond! </div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Embrace the vagrants and derelicts. Rejoice! Worship! Seek the Lord!</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">And when you have found a peace that passes all understanding: rest. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Enter</i> <b>His</b> rest.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I dare you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-74163335282822129742011-08-11T15:47:00.000-07:002011-08-11T15:47:26.914-07:00Keep asking.I've been asking a lot of questions lately. <br />
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I'm learning that questions aren't a sign of weakness due to lack of knowledge; rather they are an indication of growth, development and maturity. <br />
Growth doesn't end. Especially not spiritual growth. With spiritual growth we become more mature Christians, but we never reach a climax where we know all the answers, and comprehend everything Jesus has left for us in His word. I fear that if we do not feel the need to ask questions, we are in danger of giving ourselves much more credit than we deserve in regards to our salvation and our Savior. <br />
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Christians tend to be arrogant people. We tend to be arrogant people. We act like we somehow deserve the salvation that was given us. We act as though we are better than those unbelievers forever wallowing in their sin and self-pity. <br />
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As a Christian there is only one thing of which I am completely certain. <br />
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Jesus. <br />
His redeeming love. <br />
His never ending grace. <br />
And his atonement that leaves me beautiful and shameless in His eyes.<br />
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We are forgiven. Why then, do we not act as His forgiven children? We are blessed with His favor. Remember that.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-35008097611894990822011-07-05T13:55:00.000-07:002011-07-05T13:55:42.000-07:00To do list.There are so many things that I want to do.<br />
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1. I want to start a bakery called the "Pie Hole". I want it to be in the inner city and I want to love the community. <br />
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2. I want to be a jazz singer. I want to sing for weddings.<br />
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3. I want to pick up and move to Boston. I'll live in a one room apartment with a make shift wall separating the bathroom from the rest of the room. I'll have paints, one suitcase of clothes, a few make shift canvases, and maybe even a piano I found on the side of the road. It will be right on the harbor so every morning I'll wake up to the sound of the fishermen and the market and the smell of fish. EW.<br />
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4. I want to be a writer. Maybe someday I'll publish a book of stupid things I did with morals at the end. It would be funny, of course. Or maybe I'll just have a blog that people all over the world read. It will be heartfelt and funny. I will write the type of things I like to read.<br />
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5. I want to go to Nashville and work with Charlie Peacock. I want to learn about loving Jesus and how he incorporates that with music. I'll learn about recording and studio stuff. I'll record an album. NBD.<br />
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6. I want to direct a movie. Preferably the Spirit Flyer Series, by John Bibee. I have a vision for those undiscovered books. Just lemme at 'em.<br />
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7. I want to be a wife and mother.<br />
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8. I want to be a wedding photographer. I'm not competitive enough to ever really do this. But I would love to capture their special moments!<br />
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9. I want to open a coffee shop. I want to love the community where it's located. Coffee as a profession? Yes please.<br />
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10. I want to be a teacher. I want to teach elementary school in the inner city and love people to the best of my ability so that I can make a difference in my kids' lives.<br />
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11. But right now more than all of those things, I want to go back to Guatemala.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-32967916635809337382011-06-24T22:50:00.000-07:002011-06-25T01:15:48.431-07:00Maybe my life just changed....<a href="http:/Users/RuthJeff/Music/iTunes/iTunes%20Media/Music/John%20Mayer/Continuum/01%20Waiting%20On%20The%20World%20To%20Change.m4a"></a><a href="http:///Users/RuthJeff/Music/iTunes/iTunes Media/Music/John Mayer/Continuum/01 Waiting On The World To Change.m4a"></a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't seem to get Guatemala off my mind. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fireflies dance and blur my vision as I sit on the back patio, thinking. Just thinking.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You hear the cliche, "It was life changing" phrase a lot. And you wonder how much of that is true. You ask them, "Really? Wow! What made it so great!?" And oftentimes, they give you a shody, cop out answer. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I felt a lot of emotions when I got home last Friday from Patanatic, Guatemala. I stepped off the Boeing 737 into the heat of the Houston terminal. The shock of the heat was paralyzing to the lungs. I was used to 60's and chilly mountain weather. Not humidity that made my lungs want to die. We made our way to the baggage claim so that we could hurry through security and customs in order to wait four hours for our connecting flight from Houston to Kansas City.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had no idea Guatemala would effect me like this. I had no idea those people would get a hold of my heart the way they did. I had no idea those children's smiles would be engraved in my memory. I had no idea that my bracelet would remind me to pray for them every time I look at it.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A couple of things really struck me in the airport. 1. You could flush your toilet paper. You might have just chuckled. But I'm serious. The water pressure in Guatemala was horrid. If you flushed toilet paper there was a good chance it would end up on the bathroom floor shortly thereafter. 2. You could literally buy anything in the Houston airport. Need a watch? Fossil'll cover you. Hungry? You have your choice of any kind of food! How about your shoes? I think they need a little shining....</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Americans are always going somewhere. We have a schedule to keep. We have to get where we're going without interruption so that we can move on to the next item on our to-do list. We are frivolous with our money. We buy silly things. How much do we buy and think, "I need this!" Malarky, you do! I've seen people live with the necessities. I've seen them live with </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>less</u></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> than the necessities. It puts a spin on how I view our culture to say the least. And it puts a spin on the word necessities and what that actually means.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But despite the drastic differences between their culture and my own one things rings true: people are people. They still have maternal and paternal instincts and they fiercely care for their own. Humans are incredibly similar. I think it's our cultures that set us apart from each other. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At first I had all of these emotions and feelings of frustration for our culture and people. I was so angry that we could have so much and waste so much when people outside of our country are living under such difficult circumstances. They don't have all the technology we do. They don't have all the fashion distractions. They don't have the worries that my culture tells me I must have. They're happy. They have nothing with which to compare their lives. I go there and I think, "How can they live in these conditions!?" But they aren't coming from my background where I have indoor water that's completely drinkable, and internet access, and my own laptop that cost more money than they might see in a year, and any kind of food I want within a five-mile radius. God put us each in different situations. I did not choose to be born in the United States to the amazing family that I have. God put me there. Or here, rather. I didn't know how to deal with our wealth. Do I get mad? No. Do I sell all my possessions? Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe I just need to love. Maybe I just began to open my eyes. Maybe that trip was more of a blessing to me, than it was to them. Maybe God used Guatemala to pull the cloth from over my eyes. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe my life just changed.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My desire is to go back. My desire is to love. My desire is to bless and teach. I can't imagine my life without those things. And right now, all I </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">can</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> imagine is all of those things in Guatemala. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have much praying to do.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe my life just changed. Correction: my life just changed.</span></div>Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-60278151560000511122011-06-05T16:51:00.000-07:002011-06-05T16:51:15.103-07:00With my luck Guatemala customs won't let me leave and I'll have to walk 127 miles to the American Consulate.Big red suitcase. Check.<br />
<br />
Nalgene water bottle. Check.<br />
<br />
Passport. Check.<br />
<br />
Bible and notebook. Check.<br />
<br />
Gameboy. Check.<br />
<br />
Camera. Check.<br />
<br />
Anti-diarrhea medicine. Check.<br />
<br />
Well folks. It's here at last. June 6th. The day I fly internationally for the first time EVER. I'm heading to Guatemala! I'll be there for two weeks with four girls from MidAmerica Nazarene University. We'll be changing water filters, working in the clinic, teaching children English ( :) ) speaking a butt ton of Spanish and just loving the people!!<br />
<br />
It's really quite pointless to try to tell you how excited I am. I. Am. Stoked.<br />
<br />
There are a few things you could do for me if you think about it.<br />
<br />
1) PRAY FOR ME. And my team. Maybe this is selfish but I really don't want to have to use that anti-diarrhea medicine. Pray we have servant hearts. Pray I don't lose my Spanish words. Pray the people feel our love. Pray that Jesus will be glorified.<br />
<br />
2) Send me an e-mail. This isn't so imperative. BUT, I would LOVE to see your name in my inbox. Any sort of encouragement would be wonderful. (I get homesick easy....) (rmjeff123@gmail.com)<br />
<br />
3) Safety. Eh. I'm not too worried. Yea, third world country. Yea, maybe a little dangerous. But we have Jesus! As long as we're not stupid, I'm pretty confident we'll be okay. (That was not supposed to be as arrogant as it sounded....)<br />
<br />
<br />
I am so excited to go praise Jesus in Guatemala. I'm also very excited to come back and report on my adventures. <br />
<br />
Peace out, Olathe. See you in two weeks. <br />
Peace.Love.Gap.<br />
Ruth. Jeff.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-71141731807300828512011-05-21T16:05:00.000-07:002011-05-21T16:05:26.125-07:00Faithless Bride<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Ezekiel 16. Read it. And see yourself as His bride. Let the sweet gospel wash over your heart and soul.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Israel. The Lord's Bride. You.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You were unwanted.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You were despised and rejected.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Covered in blood, my heart had compassion for you as you struggled for your next breath.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You were covered with blood, no hope of a future, abandoned little wretch, thrown away in the trash.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">But my heart fell in love.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">When I saw your pathetic form.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I breathed my breath of life to fill your lungs.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I loved you.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The years flashed by as you grew to be a beauty.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The world stood in awe as you simply took a breath.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I was in love and I took you to the alter.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Jewelry and silk, crowns and anointments. None could compare to your unmatchable beauty.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">But my heart fell in love.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">As I vowed to you my whole heart.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Forever yours, you became my queen and love affair.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I loved you.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Then one day you stood gazing too long in the mirror. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You trusted in your beauty.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You became a whore.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You stripped yourself of respect, beauty, even true love.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You became what you wanted.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My faithless bride.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">But my heart fell in love.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">When I saw you in the Brothel.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My tears fell freely as my heart shattered 'round my feet.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I loved you.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You were a whore, you were a tramp, you were a slut, you had betrayed me.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You adulteress wife.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You faithless bride.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">But my heart fell in love.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">That's why I have to crush you. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I must strip you bare before you see your own despair.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I loved you.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I beat my breast.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I tore my robes.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">How could I harm you whom I love so much?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">It is for your good.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Because I loved you.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I devote myself to you, my bride.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Your shame still brings tears to my eyes.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My covenant with you is strong and will hold fast.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Faith love, is all you need to get somewhere.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Put your past behind you and take my hand---</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">As we walk, let us walk through the Promised Land.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Now my heart falls in love every day.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">When I see your shining face on the pillow mere inches away.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You faithful bride.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You loving wife.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My heart is yours.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My love, you are my pride and joy.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">As your husband, as your head I devote myself.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">To you forever.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I love you.<br />
<br />
<br />
He will keep His covenant with you.</div>Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-14456386417235958632011-04-24T19:54:00.000-07:002011-04-24T19:54:51.948-07:00The Stall Seat Journal: 1st Edition<div style="text-align: center;">Today I became a germophobe.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I began an endeavor I don't plan on repeating in the near future.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I attempted to replace the wax seal under the toilet. You know, the one that ensures no leakage. The one you don't even think about as you sit on the throne, doing your business. The one that should never ever ever ever need to be replaced. But alas, the brokenness of the world ensures that it will indeed br<span></span>eak, and some poor soul will have to replace it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Before I continue, I would like to send up a prayer that you NEVER have to go through the nasty process that is anythin<span></span>g to do with plumbing and sewage systems.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;"> <i>flushed</i></span> with excitement to get this blog started! Time's a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;"><i>waste</i></span>ing, so <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;"><i>water</i></span> we waiting for?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So, we began the dastardly deed by draining the toilet. I reached down to turn the water off and flushed the toilet. Most of the water drained out of the tank. But as I leaned over to check the progress it was soon evident that not all of the water would drain. Sigh. And so the nastiness began. I got out two sponges. And yes. You can see what's coming next. I <i>hand</i> sponged the rest of the water out of the tank. That's right. I physically plunged my hand into the murky water to empty it of the remaining water. I thought the worst was over. HA. Oh, how naive. I lifted the lid of the toilet. My father leaned over, handed me the sponge and said, "Got for it." Sigh. So, I went for it. I had to sponge the water out by <i>hand</i>. The thing that got me through? Kittens and puppies. They're all so cute. Kittens! My goodness, litters of kittens are SO cute! But alas, having your hands in water where poop has been? It'll tear down even the most disgusting human being on an episode of Fear Factor. It is <i>nasty</i>. So I then proceeded to get out this weird metal lamp thing that got hot in about .234 seconds. It shone brightly as I began to unscrew the two bolts that hold the toilet to the ground. Then lo and behold, one of the screws doesn't unscrew. Did you hear? It didn't unscrew! Therefore, I am reduced to cutting the bolt. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Crap. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I have to cut the bolt. </div><div style="text-align: center;">So I put the project away for Easter weekend and I will attack it again on Monday.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That does it! All bets are now off. </div><div style="text-align: center;">The next time I finish and fix the toilet, I will indeed reach into my back pocket and pull out a bird-flu mask. You know, the kind that only allow the sun to reach my eyes! Now hear me out, I didn't always used to be the person who kept a bird-flu mask in their back pocket. No no! Indeed I used to ignore the vestiges of illness and even on occasion was the type who might extend an acknowledgement of blessing should someone sneeze in my company! But never again I tell you! A toilet, when the lid is left open during a flush can discharge as many germs into the air as a full-on open-mouthed cough by a snotty-nosed-five-year-old directed in your face! The foul lung discharge when not accompanied by a preventative barrier can be as repulsive as the toxicity of a freaking land fill! You might as well be standing next to Typhoid Mary in an elevator! <i>Do</i> be terrified. It is their germ mission to land on and find any means of entering your body.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've almost completely ruled hand-shaking out of the question. I will say, "Nice to meet you!" And I might even blow them a kiss for good measure! And public doors!? Are you kidding me!? Handrails? Escalators? We're pretty much talking about a conveyor belt of pestilence and filth! It's pretty much a buffet of maladies that would rival any petri dish in any scientists lab! You're pretty much toying with unleashing the apocalypse if you touch one of those things!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm considering investing in a haz mat suit.</div>Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-77131255440778865012011-04-21T17:07:00.000-07:002011-04-21T17:07:34.941-07:00The-unnamed-nobody-cares-I-sure-hope-you-don't-read-this-post.I clicked the new post button.<br />
<br />
I don't know what I'm going to write about.<br />
<br />
Starbucks. You have this effect on me. To write...to write...to write. WITH NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT.<br />
<br />
Me and my venti hazelnut misto are bonding over my indecisiveness. I was sure I wanted the misto. The rest was cloudy. Just like the weather.<br />
<br />
I am determined to be a good writer someday. Someday. Maybe that someday will include the pacific northwest, some mad musical skills, and a bakery/coffee shop that I own and manage. <br />
<br />
Maybe.<br />
<br />
Maybe someday.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-50766991587284908752011-03-31T14:57:00.000-07:002011-03-31T14:57:38.110-07:00Birthday BlissHow loved can one person feel?<br />
<br />
Incredibly.<br />
<br />
As all....eleven....of my followers know, my birthday was last Sunday, March 27th. Nineteen years ago on a cold Friday morning in March my Momma heard my loud, unforgettable cry. She had a baby girl with more dark hair than you can imagine. My mother and father like to tell me about how I kept them up ALL night long. My poor, poor mother was in labor all night. And so, my life started out with a hassle. haha. I wasn't even breathing air and I was already a nuisance. Just wait till I started talking and having opinions!<br />
<br />
For nineteen years I have been more loved than I can fathom. <br />
My friends love me and for some odd reason put up with me. <br />
My brothers love me and tease me and feel the need to protect me from the male side of population.<br />
My sisters love me and taught me the delicacies of coffee and will stay up at ungodly hours of the night talking with me.<br />
My parents love me. There are too many things my parents do for me to list. They have always and will always be my biggest supporters. I have no doubt that my parents will be behind me, building me up in Christ, urging me to love Him more daily. <br />
<br />
I have a blessed life. Yea, so there are day-to-day struggles. But I wouldn't have any character or back bone if God didn't give me strife. (Although my Pop would say I'll always be a character. Ba doom ching.)<br />
<br />
I love my friends.<br />
I love my family.<br />
I love my life.<br />
But most importantly, I love my maker.<br />
<br />
Open your eyes. See how blessed you are.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-67050941955603675822011-01-17T21:11:00.000-08:002011-01-19T15:09:58.056-08:00Trendy Jesus and His Hipsters<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> </span></i></b></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Be forewarned: I might come across as offensive, or too opinionated. That’s the beauty of a free nation, baby! I can think whatever I want. So can you. Feel free to disagree with me. I won’t mean to offend anyone, but if it happens, skip to the bottom and read my last sentence. Also, this is a long post. So hunker down. Preferably with a drink in hand. Maybe even a writing utensil and paper? Yea, I knew it was too much to ask.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br />
</span></span></div></i></b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Dig this.</span></span></b></span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Too many Christians these days seem to think that the only way to bring the lost to Christ is by being cool. </span></span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Helloooooo hipster nation! Why do we need to give Christianity a vintage makeover? Why does it have to be cool to be accepted? These are my questions, and my sassy observations.</span></span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>1. Of congregations, labels and denominations.</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You know the place. The big church building on the corner. The one your grandma has gone to her whole life and her parents before them and their parents before them and the only reason the parents before them weren't a part of the church was because the town wasn't established yet (but don't worry, that brings you to a fifth generation __________). The church where bingo meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The one where you're pretty positive you're the only person who has ever even </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">considered</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> voting democrat. The one where all the old women from your grandma's quilting club call you by your older sibling's name. The one where they sing all traditional hymns and use an organ and you are for </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">sure</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> the only person to be reminded of the Phantom of the Opera by organ usage. </span></span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This church isn't cool by the new standards. No true Christian hipster would step foot in one of these places.</span></span><span style="color: #262626; font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Methodist, Lutheran, Presbyterian. Labels. The </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">dreaded</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> labels. It's not cool to go to a denominational church. The Emergent movement is sweeping America (which is really a whole other blog in and of itself). I guess my biggest comment on this topic is, why is it SO uncool to be a part of a denomination? I understand that some people are turned off by denominations and church in general. But, my thought? I can't harden or soften the heart of an unbeliever. God can.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>2. Calling oneself “progressive” rather than “liberal’.</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The word liberal (like evolution and sex) carries a negative connotation in the Christian subculture. It is often used in the context of play-by-play accounts from pastors or Sunday school teachers about the dangers of competitive slippery slope sliding. Is progressive better? The hipster Christians sure thinks so. People like Jesus and Donald Miller are considered progressive. Progressive communicates the fact that we’re not headed down, but forward…and a little (slash a lot) to the left. Or you can just be like me, and be blatantly conservative.</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>3. Assuming our daily fair-trade latte from our trendy locally owned coffee shop, makes us committed to social justice.</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> I may drive a gas-guzzling clunker from the 80's to Wal-mart to buy a trunk full of fruit and veggies from the good ole U.S. of A. but I’m certain that the steam pouring off of my free trade Chai Tea Latte is a sweet aroma to God. Revocup, Bluestem Bistro, Radina's. Don't deny it. You know the places. Starbucks? Please. We like the trendy, hole in the walls.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>4. Thinking the only way to bring people to Jesus is by being cool.</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Why? Why is this the case? Why is it that we have convinced ourselves that only the cool, trendy and hip will draw the unbelievers into community with Christians? Why is it that we are working so hard on our image so as to intrigue the unbeliever? </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We, as Christ followers, believe in the power of the Lord of the universe. He seeks. He saves. If we speak this truth, we speak love. We act love. (The last two sentences might be the most hipster sounding sentences of my life.) Through our lives, the Lord changes and calls, softens, and pulls the unbeliever's hearts to Him. </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We freak out way too much. What was I thinking about earlier today? What I would wear. Who would see me. What they would think of me. I want desperately to be liked. To be accepted. To be "in". Don't </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">EVEN</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> try to tell me you're not the same way. </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But Christian, it's time you heard this news! If you've been reading the Bible at all you'll know this: Jesus was </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">not</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> cool. Isaiah 53, people! He was "despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, familiar with suffering." Ya hear? Hated. Despised. Rejected. Does that sound fun? Or cool? Or trendy? More proof? The Old Testament is full of examples and times when God the Son was treated like poop. I said poop. (Kudos if you get that reference.) Do we need to talk about the douche bag Pharisee's? Or better yet, have we forgotten about the Jews (His own people) who killed him? He definitely didn't win the popularity contest.</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I almost envy believers in countries with significantly less freedom than our own. I fear the persecuted believer might know the personality and character better than the hipster nation Christian. People were drawn to Jesus because he loved them passionately and fiercely, not because he was cool. In the end, we need to realize that we are not the ones doing the saving. Jesus is, and we are the ones who are supposed to show others what living life for him is to look like. I hate to break it to you, but it's not always cool, but instead real and true and fulfilling. Let's try some authenticity on for size. </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Don't misread me. I like hipsters. I like their style. They aren't by any means bad people. I might even consider myself mildly hit with the hipster stick. What I don't like is where our nation and generation seems to be taking Christianity. I strongly believe the Lord calls us to be strong men and women who will take up His cross. But if we're too concerned about how used our keds look, or how many people notice our Hebrew tattoo that of course means something spiritually significant, or contemplating if your new dress is even vintage considering you got it from American Apparel then when will we find time to be concerned with the Lord? When will we adore our Creator more than the life that is a gift to us? We are so blessed. The preeminent Father of all, loves us. Let's start acting like it. </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Now an excerpt from a note my dear friend Candace wrote, "I would not be surprised if some churches have a 'cool team' consisting of people wearing chunky Rob Bell glasses who discuss how to make worship sound more indie-rock. I can almost see them sitting in a coffee shop drinking americanos, with at least one of the guys hoping the barista they think is cute will ask him what his tattoo means, which is of course spiritually significant, and he will be able to invite her to church, and hopefully later, a date!"</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I want us to value our beliefs and love of our Maker more than our style.</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">That's what I want you to get out of this blog. Just take this one thing. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind. Love Him fully with the life He gave to you.</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 200%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> To finish off, I want to tell you something else my dear friend Candace once told me. "If you're offended by this, I sort of want to say sorry and sort of want to tell you to grow thicker skin."</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-14618898786605490912010-12-18T13:22:00.000-08:002010-12-18T13:22:16.465-08:00Revo CupYou pull open the heavy door. Hear the jingle of the bell announcing your presence.<br />
<br />
It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. You can make out tables and chairs; a couple sofas. You take a couple of steps into the room and feel the heat flood over your frozen body. The wind is icy outside! What a relief to have a warm place to relax.<br />
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There's a blonde boy/man with a mustache working the register and making the coffee. Just another Saturday. Nothing to write home about. He looks up, smiles, keeps your eye contact for a moment. But not too long, otherwise it would be socially awkward. He goes back to making the coffee for the frumpy lady in front of you in line. She turns, looks you up and down and you can tell she's labeling you in her mind. Eh, no big deal. It's Saturday. And you decided that it was going to be a good day. She can't ruin your day. Nobody can. They can only ruin your day if you let them. <br />
<br />
The frumpy lady goes on her way with her double shot mocha frappe deluxe with fat free milk half caffeinated chai americano latte.<br />
<br />
The blonde boy/man makes eye contact, smiles, and asks, "What can I get for you today, miss?" You crinkle your nose and think. Decisions, decisions. Maybe a mocha, or a hot chocolate! Anything hot sounds wonderful. No. You take that back. Today is most definitely a chai latte day. Here's to hoping the blonde boy/man doesn't make a crappy one. Even a crappy chai wouldn't ruin your day!<br />
<br />
You pay the blonde boy/man, make chit chat, you can tell he thinks you're pretty. Then he gives you your drink, apologizes for the nonexistent wait and waits for you to look away. <br />
<br />
Now comes the hard part, choosing your seat. This takes much thought. You don't want to sit too near the door or you will be blasted with cold air every time a customer enters. You can't sit too near the register so that the blonde boy/man doesn't think you are suggesting further conversation. You don't want to sit at a large conference table, you'll feel all alone. But the sofas and lounge chairs are suggestive that you want someone to sit and converse with you. You decide upon a small table, three chairs, with room for your computer and a book. Then you unpack. You scope out the rest of the room; one old Indian man reading a paper. That's it. Light Christmas music is playing in the background. Perfect. <br />
<br />
You pull out Mary Poppins. P.L. Travers was such a great guy. The story comes alive in the depths of your imagination. You can see Julie Andrews flying down the street, the constable giving you a tour of Cherry Tree Lane, Jane and Michael in their dirty nursery, and Bert drawing chalk wonders on the side walk. <br />
<br />
This is a good Saturday.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-22851281667537053962010-12-09T17:48:00.000-08:002010-12-09T17:48:09.075-08:00Humility? No problem.So what's with all the humility talks lately?<br />
<br />
Do they think college kids are too proud or something?<br />
<br />
I went to Christian Challenge (a campus ministry) for the first time last week, then to Faith Evangelical Free on Sunday morning. I swear, all the pastors in Manhappenin' are conspiring together to talk about humility. But really, who needs it? <br />
<br />
Obviously, I'm being sarcastic. The sermons have been really good; really convicting.<br />
<br />
Christian Challenge had a talk I especially appreciated. He discussed a true worshiper. What a true worshiper looks like. So check this out. It's worth your time.<br />
<br />
1. A true worshiper is humble.<br />
<br />
Convicting right off the bat. How bothersome. Exodus 34:18 is the Lord talking about when He delivered the Israelites from their bondage in Egypt. He is seeking to teach the Jews humility by remembering when He so graciously led them from captivity. He rescued them. They were stuck. There was so exit. He rescued them. He commands them to remember that. <br />
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2. A humble worshiper grieves and confesses their sins and failures to God.<br />
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Exodus 33:4, the Lord sternly rebukes the Jews. They show their grief by abstaining from wearing jewelry and fine clothes. They confess to the Lord. They spend time grieving their humanness to the Creator of the world.<br />
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3. A humble worshiper remembers his first love. (Possibly the most convicting. Watch out.)<br />
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Exodus 33:12-15. I love this passage. So much. God tells the Israelites they will soon go to the Promised Land. Moses inquires about who will lead them. God tells Moses not to worry, the Lord will be with them. Moses then has the balls to say, "If you don't personally go with us, don't make us leave this place." Do I have that kind of courage? Do I have the guts to say, if God isn't with me, I won't go. Or I won't do this. Or I won't marry this person. The Lord is the only One that matters in the world, yet the hesitance I feel is my sin nature coming out. Could I and would I straight up say to the Lord, "if you're not, I'm not." That's what my namesake did. Ruth was super kick-butt. She was all like, "Naomi, monkey-see, monkey-do." She chose God. Ruth chose God. I want to choose God. I want you to choose God.<br />
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4. A humble worshiper looks to the needs of others.<br />
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Exodus 33:15. Moses asked the Lord, well really, he pleaded with the Lord not to make the Israelites go if the Lord was not accompanying them. Moses cried out from the depths of his heart and pleaded that the Lord not forsake them. This might have been partly selfish on his part, but then again, can you blame him? The man saw God's back. The man shone with the radiance of God. Moses looked to the needs of those around him when he pleaded with the Lord. <br />
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5. A humble worshiper values how others bring glory to God.<br />
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Exodus 33:16. Now Moses starts playing lawyer. He's convincing God to go with them. He pretty makes a pros and cons list. Brothers and sisters, we were created to bring glory to God. We were created to praise His name. We must hold each other accountable that our actions are pleasing and glorifying to Christ the King. We must value the glory we as His people bring Him. Father give us awareness.<br />
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6. A humble worshiper reflets the glory of God.<br />
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Exodus 34:29-30. So this is crazy. Moses comes down after a nice chat with God. Is specifically says that he was unaware that his face had become radiant because he had spoken to the Lord. Because of this, the Jews were afraid to come near him. How crazy! The Lord pretty much, rubbed some glory off on 'Ole Moses. I pray that the Lord would bestow upon me a joy that shines and radiates the love of Christ. I also pray that He would bestow the same joy to my fellow brothers and sisters. I pray that He would make it evident to unbelievers that there is a difference about me. The Holy Spirit lives in me! I must live my life to honor Him! Let us glorify the Lord and reflect His greatness!<br />
<br />
I'm falling in love with Exodus. And I might name one of my son's Moses.Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-68979939983201462432010-10-11T16:48:00.000-07:002010-10-11T16:48:47.876-07:00Dearest.Dear Husband,<br />
<br />
Will you love all of the freckles that spring up on my face in the summer?<br />
Will you love people as much as I do?<br />
Will you be able to embrace my outbursts of musical renditions?<br />
Will you help me to love the Lord more and more every day?<br />
Will you wash my feet just to show me the Father's love?<br />
Will you pray for me now, even before we've met?<br />
Will you give me flowers just because it's a Tuesday?<br />
Will you give me flowers just because it's a Tuesday, 35 years into our marriage?<br />
Will you open your arms to the needy with me?<br />
Will you stand side by side with me to further the Kingdom?<br />
Will you love me even though I sweat more than any human being should?<br />
Will you still think I'm beautiful even when I sweat that much?<br />
Will you hold my hair back when I'm throwing up at three in the morning?<br />
Will you hold me when I'm scared?<br />
Will you help me love Jesus to the best of my ability?<br />
Will you love Him more than me?<br />
Will you be excited to face the future with me?<br />
Will you be humble enough to admit you were wrong?<br />
Will you help me be humble enough to admit when I'm wrong? (Don't worry, it won't happen much.)<br />
Will you laugh at my quirks?<br />
Will you know how I like my coffee?<br />
Will you love every hair cut I have, even if I come home crying because I hate it?<br />
Will you make dinner with me?<br />
Will you go grocery shopping with me!?<br />
Will you promise to help me laugh when I make the worst dinner in the history of the world and all I want to do is cry?<br />
Will you let me buy 2% milk even if you like skim?<br />
Will you smile and rub my back when I speak Spanish in my sleep?<br />
Will you accept that I am not a morning person, but that I am in fact a night owl?<br />
Will you watch infomercials with me at one in the morning when I can't sleep?<br />
Will you love me despite my mistakes?<br />
Will you sing songs with me?<br />
Will you sing me to sleep when I can't stop crying?<br />
Will you go on walks with me in the middle of the night!?<br />
Will you make me mix CD's for my car rides to work?<br />
Will you encourage me in all my endeavors to seek first the Lord?<br />
Will you have nicknames for me?<br />
Will you go to Guatemala with me and volunteer in an orphanage?<br />
Will you take me out to jazz clubs and ballets and concerts?<br />
Will you parade me around like a prize that you won?<br />
Will you be SO proud that I am yours?<br />
Will you go on adventures with me!?<br />
Will you get pumped for Christmas with me!?<br />
Will you know how I like my name spelled?<br />
Will you know which flower is my favorite?<br />
Will you buy me a Magic Bullet?<br />
Will you laugh at my jokes even when they aren't funny?<br />
Will you say forever and mean it?<br />
Will you love me even when I'm the most stubborn women with whom you have to come in contact?<br />
Will you make me hot tea, buy me the most chocolate ice cream you can find, plug in the heating pad for me, and watch Mary Poppins with me when I have horrible cramps?<br />
Will you buy me tampons?<br />
Will you know which tampons I like best and be able to pick them out with ease when I'm not there?<br />
Will you love me to the best of your ability?<br />
Will you stick with me through thick and thin?<br />
<br />
Dearest, I'm waiting for you. And although I'm not altogether pleased with God's timing, I am confident you are worth the wait. I'm praying for you, love. You will have my devotion and affection when you finally show up. But until then, I must trust the Lord with my heart. Look to Jesus, dearheart. Wait for me. And be a man like David. I pray your heart is fashioned after God's. I love you. And I miss you. I can't wait to be man and wife.<br />
<br />
I love you.<br />
<br />
Your wife,<br />
<br />
RuthRuthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-31862262661174108772010-10-06T16:41:00.000-07:002010-10-06T16:41:20.514-07:00Weddings ShmeddingsJuly 4th 2010.<br />
Carolyn and Matt got married and became Mr. and Mrs. Jensen.<br />
I was a second photographer for their lovely wedding.<br />
That day I held three cameras at one time, I pulled bobby pins out of my hair for the bride, I took tons of pictures, and I witnessed so much love. <br />
<br />
I hope my wedding will be half as unique and amazing as Carolyn and Matt's.<br />
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These are some of my pictures from the beautiful day.<br />
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Thank you so much for letting me be a part of your special day!Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14117366868695581.post-79035591211061656522010-09-12T20:17:00.000-07:002010-09-12T20:17:32.172-07:00I hate doing laundry.I hate doing my laundry. It is one of the many indulgences I truly miss from being a child. I miss the way your clothes just magically showed up in your drawers clean and then you played in the dirt with no cares that they would inevitably get dirty. So here I am, sitting on the washing machine, missing the simplicities of childhood.<div><br />
My dear friend Erin Niles sent me a lovely letter today. In our handwritten correspondence, we ask each other questions. For instance: "If you could have dinner with anyone, living or dead, who would it be and why?" And, "If you ruled a country, which country would it be." And now my favorite for which I will spend most of this blog discussing, "What does the perfect day look like for you?"<br />
<br />
My perfect day?<br />
<br />
I wake up at 7:00 perfectly rested and wide awake. I take a shower. Pull on a freshly dried pair of my favorite Gap jeans. Fix my hair, put on my favorite Fossil t-shirt and yellow cardigan and head to work on my bicycle (which I made). I show up to work on time and ready to go. I start working as a barista, making coffee for the locals. Oh, did I mention I'm in Guatemala, speaking Spanish fluently to all who enter? Seeing as it's a pretty relaxed joint, I get to play whatever music I like. Naturally, I play some Dave Bruebeck, Melody Gardot, Miles Davis, Jamie Cullum, Madeleine Peyroux. You know, that jazzy stuff. I then get off work around 2:30 and take a nice ride across town on my bike, to the orphanage(Or Boys and Girls club. This part is subject to change). I change into more fitting apparel and am greeted by dozens of children after school. I then play until I'm joined by a handsome young man, who can't be much older than me. He and I continue to play with the children until just after dinner time, all the while unabashedly flirting with each other. We share dinner with them, tuck a few of the younger ones into bed, help the older ones with their homework and then proceed to leave the building. We both get on our bicycles which are parked next to each other. Then I take a nice, leisurely ride home with my husband; side by side, ready to take on the big adventures of the next day. <br />
<br />
That's my perfect day.<br />
<br />
So, as I sit here, waiting for my laundry to dry, I realize I have a <i>horrid</i> stomach ache and a hurting back. But I was so lost in my make believe story of my perfect day, I quite lost track of time.<br />
<br />
This blogging thing is really growing on me.</div>Ruthy Jeffreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04432945648733401473noreply@blogger.com3