Post-Basileia Story: The gift of an image

It's been another hard year, but Basileia was so good and refreshing that I nearly forgot all about how hard it was.

One of the reasons is because of a significant moment for me during chapter time.  While I had been leading these sessions earlier in the week, I decided to step back and give control over to the new Servant Leadership Team (SLT, student exec board) to get some practice.  So I kept my mouth shut as much as I could and let them run with their ideas.  They started off by posing the question, "What does vision mean?" to the group for discussion.  Then Marian spoke up.

"Well, I like to think of vision as a picture of an island," she said, in her usual light-hearted manner.  She went on to explain how we are standing on an island, looking out and seeing another island across the water, and how it looks so beautiful and wonderful that we just can't stay on this island any longer - we must get in a boat and go to that other island.  Vision is the picture of getting to that other, better island.

via Unsplash

To you, it may seem silly or insignificant, but let me tell you a little bit about who Marian is.  Marian was one of the very first students I started working with when I switched campuses to RIT.  My official capacity began at Basileia the year Marian was one of my new student leaders.  It was a crazy year of learning about the campus culture and learning how to lead in the midst of that learning.

One of the ways I led was by teaching the new team what vision was and how it described the current state of the chapter.  The image I used was that of an island.  I said that some students were in the boat, ready to go to that wonderful island but just didn't know how, and some students were back on the shore, confused about why we needed to leave this perfectly good island in the first place.  I often exhorted the SLT to lead other students in such a way that invites more students to come on board the boat, and invites the students who are already on board to have greater clarity around the direction in which we're going.

It was such a distinct image for me that I even journaled about it.

So hearing Marian share about this image was a rattling moment for me in bringing the past 3 years of staff to the present.  It was a moment of experiencing God's presence, with Him saying, "I have been and still am doing a good work in you and through you."  It was a concrete, tangible way to hold on to Jesus in a time where not many of those moments come around.

What a gift from the Lord!

--From "The Living Reminder" by Henri J. M. Nouwen

The minister, as a living memory of God's great deeds in history, is called to heal by reminding people of their wounded past and by connecting their wounds with the wounds of all humanity, redeemed by the suffering of God in Christ.

But what are the implications of such a viewpoint for the personal life of the minister? 

The temptation is strong to ask the "how" question:  "How do I become a living memory of God; how do I accept and connect; how do I lift up the individual story into the divine history?"  These questions are temptations insofar as they avoid the more basic question:  "Who am I as a living memory of God?" 

The main question indeed is not a question of doing, but a question of being.  When we speak about the minister as a living reminder of God, we are not speaking about a technical specific tool, techniques, and skills, but about a way of being which embraces the totality of life:  working and resting, eating and drinking, praying and playing, acting and waiting.  Before any professional skill, we need a spirituality, a way of living in the spirit by which all we are and all we do becomes a form of reminding. 

One way to express this is to say that in order to be a living reminder of the Lord, we must walk in his presence as Abraham did.  To walk in the presence of the Lord means to move forward in life in such a way that all our desires, thoughts, and actions are constantly guided by him.  When we walk in the Lord's presence, everything we see, hear, touch, or taste reminds us of him.  This is what is meant by a prayerful life.  It is not a life in which we say many prayers, but a life in which nothing, absolutely nothing, is done, said, or understood independently of him who is the origin and purpose of our existence.

Washing students' feet.

John 13:1-6 The Message (MSG)

Washing His Disciples’ Feet

13 ^1-2 Just before the Passover Feast, Jesus knew that the time had come to leave this world to go to the Father. Having loved his dear companions, he continued to love them right to the end. It was suppertime. The Devil by now had Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot, firmly in his grip, all set for the betrayal.

^3-6 Jesus knew that the Father had put him in complete charge of everything, that he came from God and was on his way back to God. So he got up from the supper table, set aside his robe, and put on an apron. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the feet of the disciples, drying them with his apron. When he got to Simon Peter, Peter said, “Master, you wash my feet?”

Earlier this week, I attended our Upstate Team Meetings, a semesterly spiritual formation retreat with the northern half of our NY/NJ region.  During one of the days there, we studied this passage (John 13) together. 

(Yes, it's the Message version.  You're not reading the link wrong.  A rare happenstance in InterVarsity, I know.  Don't worry, we still encountered the Lord.)

One of the big things that stood out to me was the fact that Jesus' identity and authority were not dependent on whether or not the disciples understood what he was saying or doing.  He knew His relationship to God and the authority He had been given to carry out His mission.

This didn't change when Peter clearly didn't understand what Jesus was doing, nor seemed patient enough to wait to understand later.  His identity and authority from God didn't change when Judas betrayed Him.  Jesus continued to love and serve them.  He pressed forward into the tension and confusion.  He didn't compromise his actions.  His authority didn't diminish with the disciples' comments or actions. 

This made me think about two things:

1. While I hunger for a deep sense of joy and compassion for this ministry at RIT, I wonder how much of my lack in those areas is tied to my belief that my authority is determined by how well people understand what I am doing.  It's a belief I know in my head isn't true, but I certainly act on it more than on the truth that my identity and spiritual authority come from Jesus.
   
2. What would it look like to 'wash the feet' of RIT students?  How can I serve them in such a way that would point them to the love of Jesus?

They are still things I am pondering over.  Would you pray with me as I continue to reflect on these thoughts and bring them to Jesus?

Confessions of a staff worker.

Honestly, I don't really like meeting new people.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I like people.  I love having good conversations and getting to know an individual's hopes, dreams, and learning about what makes them tick.

It's the approach and carrying on the conversation I often have issues with.

I don't like inserting myself into people's time and space.  I want to leave people well enough alone.  And I am perfectly content with being around a lot of wandering people without feeling the need to interact with them.  I don't want to be an interruption or burden or source of awkwardness for anyone.

Speaking of awkwardness, my fear of awkwardness is what tests my ability to sustain a conversation with someone.  I'm afraid we won't have anything in common for me to jump start our interaction, or that something I say will make the other person feel uncomfortable or trapped.  I'm afraid I won't know what question to ask next or what to do if the other person answers too briefly.

Also, I just want people to like me.  Who doesn't want people to like them?

That's what makes New Student Outreach (NSO) events so intimidating and draining for me.  I'd much rather just set up shop and wait for people to approach me.  Be there for people when they call.

But that's not how Jesus loved people.  He didn't stay in one place and wait for people to come to him - he left all that was comfortable and familiar and went to them.  He moved past potentially awkward situations.  He wasn't afraid to go deep really fast.  He crossed cultural boundaries.  He didn't lose focus from His purpose.  He boldly challenged others.  He invited people to join Him.  It was all worth it, to Him.  People in need are worth it to Him.  

So when NSO comes around, I work hard to step up and introduce myself to people despite my fears and discomfort.  I ask the Holy Spirit for courage.  I try really hard to be assertive but genuine at the same time.  I am reminded that not all of my attempts will bear fruit.  Rejection and failure should be expected.  But that doesn't mean I should let it paralyze me.

Meeting new students is not something that comes naturally to me, despite what some of my students may think.  It is something I discipline myself to do for the sake of the gospel.  God's love for me gives me the capacity to love others - even strangers.

It is tempting to be lazy or leave it to the "socially gifted" and "extroverts" of the group around me.  But we are all called to love God and love others, and that means we are all called to seek out the needs of others and to meet them where they are.

When it comes to loving people, Jesus always said, 'Go and do.'  When did he ever say, 'Sit and wait'?

Commanding voice.

By the time I was a senior in high school, I was a commander - a captain, in fact - in the JROTC program in my high school.  I participated in the JROTC program for all four years at Francis Lewis.  Not too many of my college peers, nor my current IV students, or even fellow IV staff, know about this little fun fact.  And for those who do know, I wouldn't be surprised if they have a hard time picturing me in it.

Maybe they have a hard time picturing me giving out orders.  I don't think I give off a typical Army-like vibe most people would have in mind.

Or maybe it's the idea of me in an army uniform?

Well, believe it or not, I did it.  And while I did my best to be a good leader and not abuse my power, I did enjoy being in charge.  Part of being in charge meant sometimes giving commands to cadets, and giving commands meant using what we called our 'commanding voice.'

I felt like an entirely different person using my commanding voice.  Most of the time I felt confident because I knew what I needed and wanted to do to lead those cadets well.  I felt brimmed over with authority because it didn't make me a bossy person and this was the position and responsibility I had been given to steward.   I also knew many of them wanted to follow me.  I appreciated their encouragement and respect, and was humbled by their desire to learn and grow.

As a staff worker, I have not yet found my commanding voice.

While I am confident about God's call on my life and am clear about the mission He has given us as an InterVarsity chapter, my temptation is to doubt the spiritual authority God has given me to lead His people.  While I know I have that spiritual authority in my head, I don't always feel it in my bones.  More often than not I step 10 feet out of my comfort zone when I lead RIT students, and with continuously seeing how far we need to go, it's hard to feel confident that my leadership is effective, or that I have any spiritual power to do anything helpful.

What I am confident about is my trust in the power God has to work in me and through me despite my doubts.  There's still time to learn how to embody the spiritual authority God has given me in the work I have been entrusted with.

Counting the costs.

Believe it or not, InterVarsity staff workers, just like any missionary, can get discouraged.  And lately I've been discovering that when I am discouraged, it creates a vulnerable space where I pull out all the things I've sacrificed for this mission, list out each one before God, and complain to Him in this self-righteous, self-justifying tone, saying, "Look at everything I've given up to be here.  Why aren't things getting better?  Do you know how hard I'm working?"

It's terrible, I know.  But trust me, God's been pushing back.

There's a church that supports Nathan (which subsequently indirectly supports me) and hosts a missions weekend each year.  It's a whole affair where they work hard to invite all of the missionaries they support locally and globally together with the church to celebrate what God is doing.  It provides an opportunity for the church members to get to know the missionaries, learn about what God's doing through them, and for both church members and missionaries to encourage and exhort one another in roles we all have in Jesus' commission.  They have tons of food, activities, and even a whole flag ceremony.  Quite the shindig.

Well, it certainly was a notably encouraging experience for me.  People whom I had just met and barely knew wanted to talk to me and Nathan because they were curious about more specifics of what our job entailed or wanted to express genuine interest in praying for us specifically.  Others took the time to ask about what was going on and listen to the praises and struggles we were currently experiencing.  Still others went out of their way to make sure we knew that we could come to them for absolutely anything that we needed, whether it was specific prayer requests or ways to physically serve.  I felt so cared for and loved by these people who knew so little about me.  I was struck by the beauty of being connected through the body of Christ.

It was a message given by the keynote speaker for the weekend that particularly challenged me that weekend on a different note.  Norm Poehlke spoke about Matthew 13:44-46, which says:

"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field.  When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.  Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls.  When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it."

Norm unpacked verse 44, saying, "If finding treasure provokes a radical response and we have not made a radical response, then we have not found the treasure."  While this reminded me of the radical response I made in following Jesus to InterVarsity staff, it also reminded me that I found the treasure and that I needed to re-examine what that kingdom of heaven means to me now.

Then Norm continued, "So what's the pearl?  The Sunday School answer would be, 'Jesus,' right?"  We all chuckled.  "But that's not what the text says.  Jesus' death is not the pearl - it's the price he paid for the pearl."

It was as if God was saying to me, "I see everything you've given up.  I hear your cries and frustration.  But have you forgotten everything I've done for you?"

Finally, Norm left us with this challenge:  "Whose kingdom are we pursuing?  Are we saying, 'Jesus, come and sit on the throne of my life'?  Or are we answering Jesus' challenge to us to, 'Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me'?"

I think God has been saying, "Yes, Tammy, you've given up a lot of things to come and follow me.  But have you given up everything?  What are you still holding on to?"

Urbana then and now.

Urbana 2009

At Urbana '09, I had no clue what to expect.  I had just finished the busiest school semester of my life, made some tough decisions about my priorities and responsibilities, and committed to another year of serving on the E-board of my InterVarsity chapter.  I was tired, I was nervous, but I was as ready as I could have been.

At Urbana '09, my mind was blown just by being there.  There's something amazing about being in the presence of thousands of other people attending Urbana who desire to see God's kingdom come to this earth.  The mission to make God's vision become a reality wasn't just for me, my chapter, or the other chapters in my region - it was for anyone who was willing to say 'yes' to Jesus.

At Urbana '09, I was a student.  I was figuring out what life could be like after graduation and where God was leading me next.  I was learning to be faithful with the things I had learned through my college experience thus far.  In being obedient in those small things, God would help lead me to whatever my future may be.

Urbana 2012

At Urbana '12, I knew what to expect...for the most part.  I had just finished my first fall season as a married woman living in the Rochester area and working a tough semester on RIT's campus.  I was excited to serve at Urbana and ready to go.

At Urbana '12, I was excited to serve the thousands of students who were being convicted and called, challenged and invited to take part in the work God is doing around the world and in their very own backyards.  I was looking forward to the stories that were to come - whether that would be a few days upon our return to campus, or even the many years down the line as students step into what it means to say 'yes' to  Jesus every day.

At Urbana '12, I was an InterVarsity staff worker.  I'm still figuring out what life could be like and where God is leading me next.  I missed a lot of sessions, Bible studies, and performances.  I missed a lot of opportunities to sit with my students in order to welcome late-comers registering, set up for a major join-in event, or count the very decisions students were making.  But I came to serve, not to be served.  I was fulfilling the roles I had so admired when I first came to Urbana as a student.  I am still learning to be faithful in the small things, and what it means to say 'yes' to Jesus' invitation.

Striking the flint rock.

When I thought about how I'm doing recently in this season of ministry, I thought of a quote from the movie, It's a Wonderful Life:

Clarence:  You sent for me, sir?
Senior Angel:  Yes, Clarence.  A man down on earth needs our help.
Clarence:  Splendid.  Is he sick?
Senior Angel:  No, worse.  He's discouraged.

I'm going to be honest, I think I subconsciously try everything I can to beat around the bush of admitting that I'm discouraged.  That's probably because my temperament likes to lean towards the image of having it all together and being super positive all the time.  It's also probably because I know the truth in my head:  I have a God who is stronger and greater than any obstacles or issues I may face.  How can I be discouraged if our God is for us?  What can ever stop us or stand against, right?  That's how the psalms and songs go.

Also, it's bothersome that my attitude tends to bend with the weather.  I find that it can sometimes be harder to see the exciting things God is up to through the pelting sheets of rain and depressing gray sky.

But there's this one thing that has been coming back to me again and again ever since I spotted it during one of the sessions at Expedition, our InterVarsity Upstate NY Fall Conference.  I was in the Map & Compass Track, where students were equipped with tools and skills to dig deep into God's Word by studying the book of Jonah with the inductive, manuscript study style.  I noticed that even though Jonah went out of his way to flee God and go in the opposite direction of where God wanted to send him, God drew people to Himself.    God worked through Jonah's disobedience to bring the sailors on the ship Jonah was taking to flee the presence of the Lord came to faith in Him.

That's pretty amazing, especially to a young woman like myself who tries so hard to "do the right thing" and go in the "right" direction.  It's a deep, freeing reminder of how God is in the business of drawing people to Himself in His time and His way and that it doesn't rest alone on my own abilities or power.

I'm realizing I need to spend some time reflecting deeply on the vision I have for RIT's campus and its students.  I'm not as excited as I once was because the vision I once had is leaking and getting fuzzy.  I need to practice some self-leadership and do well to uncover and steward the vision God graciously offers me for the sake of the gospel.

If I don't cultivate the vision for myself and for others, how can I expect my student leaders to do the same?

A new chapter

Whenever I think about the craziness of this past year, I realize I've had to muster up a lot of faith and courage to say, "Yes," to Jesus time and time again.  I didn't know where I was going to end up, and I still don't.  But here I am, in the city of Rochester, in a new apartment with a new husband and a whole new chapter of life from which I've started to turn the pages.

I guess saying yes to Jesus can sometimes feel like you're Rip Van Winkle waking up from a 20-year-long nap that felt like 20 minutes, only to find that you've moved, you're married, and your job re-located to some place you know absolutely nothing about.  You're disoriented.  You think it's a little crazy to be in this position at this age, but the dizziness from sitting up too fast has worn off and the facts just haven't changed.  You rub your eyes but you're still where you are even though you've begun to regain balance.  That's what it sort of feels like right now.

At the same time, there's been this undeniable peace with me the whole time.  I'm happy, too.  I know happiness doesn't last that long, but I try to embrace it (though lightly) when that particular wind blows my way.

Besides a new chapter in life, there's also this new InterVarsity chapter to embrace.  Honestly, it's very difficult for me to make plans for a chapter I know very little about.  But it forces me to pray and trust in Jesus.  And while I keep asking Jesus, "I want to know more," He keeps saying, "I want you to trust more," in return.

This year's NY/NJ Regional Staff Conference theme was called, "Abiding, Bearing Fruit, and the Art of Self-Leadership."  And while I'm still processing some things, one thing that has stuck is the importance of abiding in Jesus.  Honestly, I still don't know what that looks like for me...or what it looks like to have a husband alongside of me in this journey.  But as I seek knowledge, hope, direction and the comforts of structures and routines, Jesus seems to keep reminding me, "You'll find all that you really need in me."