The Concert

She was the most plastic fabrication I had ever seen. She was sitting there across from me, her head bobbing gently to the beat of the music. I could only see her nose and mouth, because her perfect highlighted hair, not one strand out of place, covered her eyes. Her manicured fingers curled gently around the crook of her scruffy boyfriend's elbow, her legs were crossed beneath the short skirt, and I couldn't decide if the most attention-drawing thing about her was the figure created by the push-up bra or the almost-unbearable incredibly pointy shoes that could classify as a deadly weapon.

I instantly hated her, and almost simultaneously was convicted for it. It made me angry that she would spend so much money and energy on the way she looked. What was she doing, sitting in this concert where the musician challenged us all about our materialism? Did she not get it? Was she really that clueless?

"He's talking about you!" I wanted to shout. But it wouldn't have done any good. She was hearing a different message than the rest of us were.

And then I realized that I didn't know her heart. I didn't know what God was doing in and with her. I didn't know how she was learning and growing. Maybe this was more of a message for me than for her. It spoke to me, and it told me exactly what I don't want to fall into. Ever.

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I went to a concert last night. It was a man named Derek Webb, who used to be with Caedmon's Call. It was pretty small: maybe 100 people. He sang about ethics, about American life and how we as Christians get so stuck...
"my first allegiance is not to a flag, a country, or a man
my first allegiance is not to democracy or blood
it's to a king & a kingdom"

I've never cried at a concert before, but Derek Webb made me do just that. I don't plan on often posting lyrics, but I think I need to. This man really spoke to me.

WEDDING DRESS
If You could love me as a wife
And for my wedding gift, Your Life
Should that be all I’ll ever need
Or is there more I’m looking for
And should I read between the lines
And look for blessings in disguise
To make me handsome, rich, and wise
Is that really what You want?

(chorus)
I am a whore I do confess
But I put You on just like a wedding dress
And I run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
But I put You on just like a ring of gold
And I run down the aisle to You

So could You love this bastard child
Though I don’t trust You to provide
With one hand in a pot of gold
And with the other in Your side
I am so easily satisfied
By the call of lovers less wild
That I would take a little cash
Over Your very flesh and blood

(chorus)
I am a whore I do confess
But I put You on just like a wedding dress
And I run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
But I put You on just like a ring of gold
And I run down the aisle to You

Because money cannot buy a husband’s jealous eye
When you have knowingly deceived his wife

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The idea of "putting on Christ's righteousness" is Biblical, but I never connected it with this idea of it being a wedding dress. Wow.

He also talked about loving your enemies and how incredibly counter-intuitive that idea is. He said that it helps to realize that you, with the right circumstances, all the ingredients mixed up just right, are capable of the exact same violence that anyone else could commit. "If you don't admit that, you don't really know yourself."

MY ENEMIES ARE MEN LIKE ME
vs. 1)
I have come to give you life
And to show you how to live it
I have come to make things right
To heal their ears and show you how to forgive them

(pre-chorus)
Because I would rather die
I would rather die
I would rather die
Than to take your life

(chorus)
How can I kill the ones I’m supposed to love
My enemies are men like me
I will protest the sword if it’s not wielded well
My enemies are men like me

(vs. 2)
Peace by way of war is like purity by way of fornication
It’s like telling someone murder is wrong
And then showing them by way of execution

(pre-chorus)
Because I would rather die
I would rather die
I would rather die
Than to take your life

(chorus)
How can I kill the ones I’m supposed to love
My enemies are men like me
I will protest the sword if it’s not wielded well
My enemies are men like me

(bridge)
When justice is bought and sold just like weapons of war
Tthe ones who always pay are the poorest of the poor

(chorus)
How can I kill the ones I’m supposed to love
My enemies are men like me
I will protest the sword if it’s not wielded well
My enemies are men like me
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We got to talk to this guy; he's bleeding for Africa and for the AIDS pandemic and the need for clean water. He was so kindly, really willing to share his soul with us individually. I was so glad to be able to hear his ideas, his point of view. Wow.

I gotta think about this stuff some more.

When it gets cold on the outside....

All my extremities are numb. I can't feel my fingers or toes or nose. My ring is sliding around my ring finger as it does when the cold sets in. I have to take it off to type or it just keeps getting in the way.

My application for the school where I'll be teaching came through today. That means I'm pretty much in. It's a scary thought. It's been a long week... and it's not over yet. I just wonder if next week will be as consuming.

I'm taking classes this upcoming spring. Photography, Guitar, and my required Health Ed. I want to take a dance class. My roommate really wants to as well. It's funny. I was all burned out with school not six months ago. Now I miss it. I guess I'm good at it and I like being good at something.

I'm finding it tempting to want to overload myself. I just want to gather as many skills as possible before going to Africa. But I can't do everything, I suppose.

The guys are missing me. I find it so encouraging that they enjoy my company. I wish I could really be one of them, but somehow I always end up being the mom/sister that they left at home.

It's late. I can hardly think anymore.

Dear Auntie Em, Hate You, Hate Kansas, Taking the dog. -Dorothy

I feel like I need a good long cry. But I'm a big girl.

I led prayers this morning. I had it all planned out and on my computer. And then it crashed. I had to wing it. It worked out okay though, and everyone liked it. Now that I really think about it, I really planned and worked hard. But in the end, God still did His thing. He was in charge. He guided my time. It was a blessing.

I'm supposed to be working on my testimony, but I feel stuck. I feel like I've got no story to tell. "Your life, little girl, is an empty page..." Rolf sang to Liesl. That's how I view myself. Sure, I've had nearly 22 years of life. But that's just the binding. The story has yet to be written.

So when someone asks me to share my testimony, I'm not sure how to react. "What's God doing in my life? I don't know! He's still doing it!"

I've been drinking a lot of tea. It has a soothing quality that I like. I've gone completely caffeine free for the last week or so.

My thoughts are very disjointed. I'm not thinking linearly, which makes it nearly impossible to write. Should I quit while I'm ahead? Can I communicate in brief random phrases?

Years ago, if you had asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have said, "a paleoanthropologist". Now, I'll give you a list of things I want to do, but if you ask me what I want to be, I might just say, "I want to be Kathy."

Spiders and Mushrooms

It's funny how God uses the banal things in life, the things you don't even like to teach you lessons.

After a long day of class and information being poured onto me, I took a walk in the woods behind the residence yesterday. It was so loud! People from the South don't appreciate the noise. Their brains drown out the cicadas as background noise. The birds, the frogs, the bugs are always chirping here. There isn't a moment's rest. When the diurnal animals cease their songs, the nocturnal ones pick up on the same key.

The trees are so fascinating. Photos can't express the beauty of the autumn. The tree in front of my window is changing from the outside in. It looks as if it's been dusted with a blood-red snow. Some trees are yellow. Some are vibrant red. One, my favorite, had leaves all colors of the rainbow, from bright scarlet to deep regal purple.

I looked at the brook, skipping happily over the rocks and listened to its joyful sound for a while. So constant, so honest. There was a spider spinning a web directly over the water between two spindly branches. He kept going in circles, weaving his trap, despite the fact that the speed of the river below him would be equivalent to us trying to rig a net over the Colorado. He kept at it and finally he sat behind a leaf. And waited. So sometimes God calls us to dangerous places. He keeps us safe. But we have to keep doing his work until we've reached the end of our abilities. The rest is up to Him. We wait.

Open fields randomly pop up between the rather tightly-knit trees. A field of grass where no trees grow in the middle of a forest. Strawberry plants grow as a weed here. They're insistent on having a hold in the ground. They viciously take over and cover area like an army sweeping through. In the middle of the field, though, stands one stubborn mushroom, poking its round head above the violence. It's a staunch example of peace and perserverance despite its circumstances. It's as if it was saying, "Hey! Strawberry! You don't have to conquer the world! You have your place, too. And if you stay there, where you're intended to be, you won't get ripped out of the ground."

The forest here feels like the one in The Village. I was constantly looking behind me expecting to find a red-clad beast standing there stalking me. It was a bit cloudy yesterday, so the woods were darker. But isn't that life?

It's funny how amid Christians and constant feeding and encouragement, you can become so discouraged.