Should auld acquaintance be forgot...

I can't believe that it has come around to New Year's Eve again. It seems only yesterday that I was sitting around with friends, hearing Auld Lang Syne being played and watching the fireworks from Sydney Harbour rain down from the Bridge. It has been such a big year of growth for me.

Yesterday someone asked me if I had made any New Year's resolutions yet. Normally I think these are silly, that they are just things that people say but never carry through with. But it got me thinking... why do I need to resolve to do something like exercise more or eat better, something I am never going to do? What if I resolved to do something that actually meant something to me, like commit to pray regularly for my family?

I haven't decided what my actual resolutions will be yet - I have until midnight to work it out. But hopefully whatever it is, I will be able to keep them!

The Christmas Sessions: Part 2

I was planning to post yesterday, continuing my series on Christmas carol thoughts, but I had a rather emotionally straining Christmas Day, and so I'm going to take this chance to reflect on that instead.

Yesterday was Christmas Day. It's usually considered one of the happiest days of the year, a time for family. Yesterday, I hurt someone I love deeply so much I made her cry, by my words and selfishness alone.

It seems hard to believe, but I think this has been one of the most special and meaningful Christmases of my life. Too often I forget how much it is I need that baby from Bethlehem, who would grow to be the Saviour. I tolerate a life of sin when I can't see it hurting anyone or hurting me. But when I manage to make someone as dear to me as my sister hurt so much in what should have been a joyful time, even I know there is something wrong. Because we can't do it alone. No matter how good we think we are, it is impossible to be sinless. I need Jesus and I saw and felt that more keenly today than I ever have before.

The Christmas Sessions: Part 1

Yes, the title is stolen from MercyMe's Christmas album. I chose it because I wanted to reflect a little on a couple of my favourite Christmas carols. Often, we hear carols so often they become background music to us. But they're so much more than that - they are beautiful hymns about one of the most spectacular events this world has ever seen, the night God himself came down to become human and to live amongst us.

O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant... As Christians, because of our faith in the grace of God, we can be both joyful and triumphant. Joyful, because of all that Christ has done for us to bring us home. And triumphant, not because of anything we've done, but because of the victory won for us by Christ, defeating sin. Isn't it amazing that no matter what sins dog us, we can have confidence that God has already won the war for us, and sin is no longer in control of us?

O come, let us adore Him... I know this is something I never spend enough time doing. Just loving, worshipping and adoring Jesus for who He is and what He did. Pray, sing, write, create, whatever... just try and spend some time this Christmas appreciating the child whose birth we celebrate and the Saviour he would be.

O come, all ye faithful,
Joyful and triumphant.
O come ye, o come ye,
To Bethlehem.
Come and behold Him,
Born the King of Angels.

O come, let us adore Him.
O come, let us adore Him.
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

All Over Again

It's been three weeks now since my last post. It's amazing - for me time has just flown. Two weeks away on mission, then one week at home recovering from mission, and now here we are.

There are so many things I could like to share with you, that I learnt while I was away, but I'm going to save them for a while, to process them a bit better. One thing I will share is something that has come up since I have gotten back.

While I was in Lorne, I started reading through the book of Malachi. Chapter 1 focuses on the offering of sacrifices to God, and his anger at the Israelites for presenting him with imperfect sacrifices... and not just imperfect, but their off-casts - the animals they didn't want anymore!

In the same way, we need to ensure that we are offering God the best, not the leftovers. I know for me, this often means the sacrifice of my time. Time is very precious to me, as it is to many people in this world. If this doesn't make sense to you, come and try being a full-time student, having a part-time job, doing ministry on campus and being a daughter, sister and friend as well. And I know there are many out there who would say I have it easy! But what I am trying to say is that with all these things going on, I often leave God only the dregs of my time. Whatever is leftover at the end of the day, when I am too tired to study and too grumpy to socialise. Is that what I think God deserves? Me at my worst, when I'm half-asleep and irritable?! Surely I could offer him something better?

Strangely, this isn't the point of my post today.

This isn't the first time I've looked at Malachi 1 and written these things in my journal. I studied the same thing over a year ago and came to the same conclusions, which I read last night when I was flicking through last year's journal. There are going to be lessons that are going to come up again and again in your life, just as the way I use my time to honour God has come up again in mine. Maybe I'll take a bit more away from it this time, and it won't come up again for another few years. Or maybe I'll be looking at the same thing again in six months or a year. Some things are going to take a whole lifetime to conquer. But I'm okay with that, because I know Jesus will be walking with me every step of the way.

And I say thank you...

God provides.

For the last couple of weeks now, I have been preparing for a mission trip to a coastal town, where we minister to school leavers who are at the beach to party. Part of this preparation is raising the funds to go, by asking those around us to support our ministry. I don't know if anyone else has had to raise money before, but asking people for money is scary. Particularly if you're naturally fairly guarded with money, like me.

And as one does, when you're scared about something and you're busy with other things - like exam study and honours applications - you try and push these things back as long as possible. And then you realise that the longer you put them off, the worse it gets.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I finally worked (and prayed) up the courage to approach my church for money. I'm fairly new there, not known to many in the congregation, so I thought a few friends and acquaintances might give me something, but had no idea where the rest was going to come from. Kit of little faith! I turn up to church and am greeted by people who don't even know me, but have heard about the mission trip, and want to support me, and walk out of the church at the end of service, holding almost the full amount, with promises from a couple more who don't have cash on them to give me money later.

I got home and went to my room, and for the first 10 minutes, all I could do was fall on my knees and laugh and cry at the same time, with two words the only ones I could speak. Thank you.

An answer to prayer....

You know those days were to quote my emo friend Avril "Nothing's going right/And everything's a mess"... I've been having one of those for the past couple of days.

I'm applying to add Honours to my degree, and the form is due tomorrow. In the stress of everything that is going on, I kept pushing back the fact that I needed to meet with my potential academic supervisor beforehand, to make sure I am a suitable candidate. So, with only four days to go, I email her, asking for a meeting, knowing that she is busy running exams... For two days I hear nothing and I begin to despair.

Meanwhile, I am currently trying to raise support for the short term mission trip I am about to embark on in just over a week. I still have almost $1000 to raise, and am getting only silence on all fronts.

And finally, last night, I do what I should have done in the first place. I pray. I apologise to God for trying to do it all myself, and I remember that if these things are in His will, He will see them done.

And so I sleep. And this morning, I receive two emails. One from the academic supervisor, telling me I can meet her tomorrow morning, and one from my church, telling me several people are willing to support me. Maybe not the full amount, but they will support me nonetheless.

PRAY.

Joy to the World

Well, surprisingly, as I'm posting this, I'm not actually feeling very joyful - I had this all written up, and then managed to delete the whole thing! But I've heard that perseverance is pretty good too... so I'm giving that a try. But, for the second time tonight - my thoughts on joy.

I've been doing a short study on joy recently, in particular, the reasons we have joy as Christians. So I've come up with an acronym for it...

P - Purpose
H - Hope
i [Superfluous letter to make the acronym work]
L - Love

I am rather proud of this, because I can even make it relevant to the topic! PHiLippians is the 'book of joy' in the Bible - it's a major theme and Paul even uses the word for joy or rejoice 14 times, in a fairly short book. If you want to do some investigating of your own into anything to do with joy, it would be a great place to start.

So what does my little word play mean? It is the three reasons that Christ has given us joy... I'll explain more:

• In Christ, we have a purpose. You know those age old questions, "Why are we here? What is the meaning of life?" [By the way, I don't think 42 really covers it...] We have those answers in God. Our purpose is to bring glory to God. "For everything was created by him and for him." (Col 1:16b) So no matter who you are, your purpose is to be doing it for Jesus, in whatever you do, and that should determine what you do and how you behaviour. And that is a huge joy for me, because it means that whatever decisions I have to face in the future, I know what the underlying goal is. That all the glory goes to God and Christ Jesus.
• In Christ, we have hope for the future. As well as a God we can trust and rely upon during our time on Earth, we have a great future to look forward to if we believe in what Christ has done for us and put him as our Saviour King. We can have confidence in God's promise that we "will not perish, but have eternal life" (John 3:16) And I don't know about you, but to me the idea of spending the rest of eternity with God, worshipping him, in a place free from sin and suffering sounds like a pretty good reason to be joyful.
• In Christ, we have seen the depths of God's love for us, through his actions in dying for us. I don't know about you, but every time I see the Jesus film or The Passion of the Christ, those images of how Christ died make me almost ill thinking about how much pain he must have endured on the cross, in addition to the agony being separated from God. The cross is one of the most painful methods of execution known to man - so painful, they invented the word 'excruciating' for it. [Seriously... look at the Latin roots. 'ex-' (from or out of) and 'crux' (cross)] And Jesus went though that FOR US. "This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins" (1 John 4:10) That's how much the Creator of the Universe loves YOU. That's got to be something to be joyful about.

There are many other aspects of joy I haven't covered, but I know, especially when I'm feeling down, that it's important to remind myself of the reasons I have to be joyful - my "PHiL" of joy [Sorry, bad pun]. And you know the best things about these reasons? In Christ, they are eternal, unchanging promises. An assignment can give me purpose for an afternoon, I may have hopes for the New Year and anyone can love me for a day or even a lifetime. But the purpose, hope and love God is offering lasts forever. Now that's a reason to be joyful!

Listening Within

The Holy Spirit and his role is never something discussed in school scripture or Sunday school, apart from a brief mention as the mysterious "third member of the trinity" - the gas, to God and Jesus' ice and water (if I may use the analogy used to explain the trinity to me at school). And what I heard from the media and discussion about Christianity confused me. What the heck was "being slain in the Spirit" (a question I still have today...) or what does it mean to be "led by the Spirit"?

So the Spirit remained this shadowy background presence that my little Anglican-brought up self wasn't sure she wanted anything to do with.

After I started going to bible study, I started hearing different things, about how the Spirit lives in all Christians. And there were these fruit of the Spirit, which everyone wants to have and we need to rely on the Spirit... "But what does it all mean? How does it work?" I wanted to ask.

It's been a long time coming, but I finally feel I am beginning to understand a bit about the Holy Spirit, and how He works. He is God dwelling in us, and because of that, He changes the way we perceive the world. I think in a sense the Holy Spirit is God-coloured glasses, that every Christian puts on - often without knowing it - when they sign up to follow Christ. And while we are still looking around for 'evidence' of the Spirit in our lives - healings, tongues, miracles - we miss the real evidence of the work of the Spirit. Those moments where the Spirit has allowed us to see glimpses of God and feel joy, to reach out in love where we would have held back, the recognition of sin and turning from it - these are the real evidence of the Spirit.

But what does that mean? To me, it means I need to listen more inside. I don't think the Spirit speaks in an audible voice, even inside, or in any words - or at least, He certainly hasn't for me. But I know that it is He who brings the changes are reshaping my mind and my heart, and when I am quiet and listening, He shows me these things, and what else needs to be done.

I know there is much more I have to learn about the Spirit and his role, and that there definitely are some flaws in my understanding at present, but I feel I've come a long way from the Holy Ghost lurking somewhere in the murky depths, that I knew of in the past. And before I go, I must acknowledge a book that has helped me to articulate a lot of what I have begun to experience - Reaching for the Invisible God, by Philip Yancey (in particular the chapters "The Go-Between" and "Out of Control").

An hour of my life...

26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in
barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable
than they? 27 Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

Jesus - Matthew 6:26-27

I will readily admit that I stress a lot. My natural instinct in a difficult situation is always to worry - to imagine what could go wrong and think the worst. I don't enjoy this experience, and neither do others around me. I hate it when I can't concentrate on what people are saying because I have all my worries running through my mind. I resent the fact that it makes me look unhappy and perpetually in a rush. But most of all, I dislike the fact that it just consumes so much of my time and my energy. It takes away from my whole life - sleeping, eating, studying, relaxing... everything is affected. It certainly doesn't add anything to my life - instead, it damages my normal existence.

In the lead up to an event that has been causing me a fair bit of stress and worry, I sat down with my mentor, and she tried to get me to talk through my worrying and what its like. I came up with this metaphor - not perfect, but gives you the basic idea of what I feel worrying is like.

For me, worry is like this enveloping cloud. Each little detail is another wisp of white, and as they gather all around you, they blind you to the bigger picture until you can't see what you're doing or where you're going. It's not until you step outside the cloud, that you see what which way the wind is blowing and whether your cloud is a storm cloud or a fluff ball. We need to step outside our worries and look at the bigger picture of what God is doing, and what his purpose is in this stressful time.

Facing Fears

Yesterday at church, our speaker really confronted us with looking at our lives to examine what areas we lack faith in. He suggested areas like money or studies - that working copious hours at work or spending every moment studying is a lack of faith in God's provision. But what came to my mind is that often I fail to have faith in God's ability to overcome my fears.

I am naturally a fearful person. Ironically, last night, I watched a movie - Nim's Island - where one of the main characters is afraid of everything - germs, spiders, other people, her front door... And while I was able to laugh at Alex's silliness, and at her misadventures as she is forced to face her fears in order to help Nim, I saw a little bit of myself in her. I am afraid of so much. Now, I know the right kind of fear - a healthy respect for God's power - is essential, but the wrong kind of fear - my kind of fear - is a failure to trust God and his goodness, and that is sin.

Funnily enough, today, I got thrown in the deep end. My mother proposed we take a trip out of the city, to a rainforest about 2 hours away. Sounds lovely, yes? But then comes the tricky part. I am learning to drive at the moment, and honestly, it scares me to death. My mother wanted me to drive there, which meant winding country roads and two motorways. Then came the clincher. Since I was a little girl, I have had a phobia of heights. Winding staircases and those steel grid gangways send me into a sobbing mess. And suddenly we get to the rainforest, where Mum wants to go on a new rainforest canopy walk - an elevated walkway 20 metres off the forest floor, culminating in a 45m high tower - with an open to the air winding staircase to the top.

And I did them both.

I think God must be into practical lessons.

Protected

Both these occurrences were a few weeks ago, but I remembered both of them this morning, and I finally saw them in a different light.

I was sitting in a lecture a while ago, and most of my friends were talking, while I was off day-dreaming (as normal). When they all burst out laughing, I returned to Earth and asked in my normal nosy fashion what they were talking about. One of the guys was about to relate the joke to me, when my friend stopped him. I looked at him in surprise, and he could obviously see that in my face. So he said very carefully, "You don't want to hear this joke", and I could tell from the expression on his face exactly what kind of joke it had been. This guy is a good friend, one of the few other Christians in my course, and I trust his judgement (most of the time) but at the time I felt quite... well, babied - as if I wasn't responsible enough to make my own call on what I should hear. And also a bit of "Well who are you to have a say in what I listen to? You're not my boyfriend or my family."

Then a couple of weeks later, a similar thing happened. I was walking through one of the buildings on campus, when the guys I was walking with (who is normally VERY talkative) stopped talking, and said, "Kit, I just want you to look at me, and not at the walls". Yet again, my face must have said it all, because he explained straight away. "There's some new 'art' up that you probably don't want to see." Again, at the time I obeyed, but more out of humouring my friend than out of believing he was right. In fact, I think my thought at the time was "Oh, it's probably just pictures of naked people. That wouldn't bother me; I've studied anatomy."

This morning brought a whole new light on these incidents. Instead of feeling patronised or resentful, I started to feel thankful for what these guys had done for me. In a world that seems to do everything it can to strip young people of their purity, these guys had put themselves out to protect MY purity. Not their own, but mine. They cared enough about a sister (who didn't care herself) to step in and hold her back from harm. And while I know these certainly weren't horrific dangers to my purity, what means something to me is that they cared. Think about, sisters - true brothers will want to protect your purity, even as the world tries to take it away.

I'm With You

"Isn't anyone tryin' to find me? Won't somebody come take me home? Cause
it's a damn cold night, tryin' to figure out this life. Why won't you take me by
the hand, take me somewhere new. I don't know who you are, but I, I'm with you."
I'm With You, Avril Lavigne

I don't think the song has a lot to do with whats on my mind, but it was one of my favourite songs a few years ago, and so I thought it was worth a mention. What I have been hit with tonight - not literally, obviously and thankfully as I bruise easily - is the fact that Christ is ALWAYS with us.

He even says it, at the end of the Great Commission. On campus, we get very excited about the Creat Commission, and we refer to it a lot, and so I assume I know it, and my eyes begin to glaze over when I hear it again. But today I actually heard it, and I had a few thoughts.

I think we often ignore or forget the last part of it. "And surely I am with you aways, to the very ends of the age." It's hard, or at least for me. Know Jesus has authority -check. Go make disciples - check. Baptise and teach them - check. But believe that Jesus will always be there, walking beside you and carrying you through the tough times - that's a lot harder.

I have been given a new role in my ministry that is quite differnt from my last one, which was a an admin one. This new one is more a leadership role, and I still feel quite daunted about taking it on. But knowing that Jesus is walking with me each step of the way - that is is the truth I will have to learn to depend on. I need to learn, sort of like Avril, to be saying "I'm with you" to Jesus and trusting in God's faithfulness.

Being Pretty

Bible study times are fun times, but also times when I learn the most. I was doing a study a couple of days ago with two other girls. We were looking at purity, which can be a fairly hectic topic for young people, when one of the girls managed to breaj the tension completely. We were looking at a verse in 1 Peter 3, when my friend suddenly announced, "I like this chapter. It teaches you how to be pretty." Both I and the other girl stared at her for a moment, before she amended "In God's eyes." At which point we all promptly burst out laughing, because she just sounded so cute saying it. Later, apart from appreciating the irony of the comment - as the girl who said is physically very beautiful and could probably get work as a model if she wanted it, her comment started me thinking.

Not so much what true beauty is, but rather how to obtain it. My friend used the word "teach", which isn't what society would normally associate with beauty, is it? In the world, you are either born beautiful (too late on that one... joking. I'm perfectly happy with how I look :) ) or you buy beauty (not on my wages...). So that brings us back to learning, and I would dare to add growing or developing, as ways beauty can be produced.

And how do we learn to have "a gentle and quiet spirit"? Peter gives us one source - by looking at the lives of the women of the Bible, and I would add, by emulating the faithful Christian women in our churches, friends and families. I know I learn best when something is modelled for me to follow. The other way I think we can learn beauty is the one I know I need to pay more attention too, and that is growing through my mistakes - looking back on when I have failed to demonstrate this and examining my attitude and motives in that situation.

I know being quiet adn gentle is counter-cultural in a society that is rewarding women for exposing themselves adn celebrates "bitching" as a freedom. Interesting, I think. Freedom in envy and anger? Give me serenity any day, thank you.

Tolerance, Passion and Facade

This issue has been on my mind for a while, after a discussion with a friend at uni. It's about the way we worship as Christians. Now, I don't want to rehash the whole issue of how worship is a lifestyle and not just an event, which is one major problem I have (personally and culturally).

What I have been thinking about is a little less deep, and more to do with how we worship as a church body. I don't want to get into one of those debates that always seem to come up between denominations on what is acceptable and what is not. I am certainly not saying that the way my church does it is right and another is wrong. I definitely don't have the theological knowledge to make that kind of call. But my friend was saying she found her current church passionless in worship, compared to her previous church.

I want to prefix my thoughts on this topic by referring you to Romans 14. It's a passage Paul has written to the Roman church about food laws, and whether or not to follow them, but I think the same principle applies here. The underlying message is that on more trivial issues like what we eat or how we sing, we shouldn't judge others unnecessarily, but let them do what they require to help them cling closely to God. (Note: This doesn't mean 'do whatever you like in the name of getting closer to God'.) So I think it's vital that we not only tolerate, but appreciate, that others connect with God differently than we might.

Passion is a tricky thing. It can be contagious and explosive, but it can also be patiently simmering - like in the expression, still waters run deep. I tend to feel quite deeply about this issue, because I am a fairly shy person by nature, and I don't always like sharing things that are close to my heart. (No, I am not saying this is a good thing - it can lead me try and carry my burdens myself too often, and it sometimes drives my discipler nuts!) So what I am saying is what may be perceived as a lack of passion may actually be a lack of physically expressed passion. And while I have no issue with those who are physically expressive in worship (raising hands, jumping etc), I feel no need to do so myself. I connect with God best when I am still. If I am moving, I always aware of my movements and my surroundings. I can't "lose myself" in movement, only in stillness.

I was once told "Passion is energy that moves things". I have always believed this statement, and it has greatly shaped my concept of 'passion'. To me, passion is not an emotion, it is a force. It is a driver and director and a creator, not just a feeling. And because I don't see it as a feeling, it is not something that can be expressed on a face or a movement, but in a word or a deed or a choice. Again, I think we come back to the main problem - worship is a lifestyle, not an event.

Finally, I think we can put too much emphasis on the appearance of passion, when the reality of it is sadly lacking. During my final three high school years, I toyed with a range of beliefs, Christianity being one of them. One of the factors that pushed me away from it was - as usual - not a problem with Christianity, but with Christians. There were a number of girls at my school who attended a large church in my area, and who organised a Christian music event at our school and stood at the front with their arms raised. One month later the same girls were suspended for consuming alcohol underage on a school camp. The seeming disconnect between their behaviour and their professed beliefs gave me an easy way out to say 'Christianity must not mean much, after all'. This is the danger of facades - when they are broken, people's faith is shattered too.

So what's my conclusion? Show it through song if you want to, but more importantly - mean it and live it!

Broken

"I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into better shape."

Estella, Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.

"If I try and bend that far, I will break."

Tevye, Fiddler in the Roof.

Bending and breaking - something I feel like I've been doing a lot of lately. It's strange how well Dickens - who was fairly anti-religion - captures one of the hardest parts of Christianity - the fact that there will be hardship and suffering, but that it's ultimate goal is to create a better shaped - more Christ-like - person.

Too often, I think we adopt Tevye's point of view, that if we continue to take more and more strain, we will eventually shatter, never to recover. But we forget, I think, that we do not need to carry the world's burden anymore - whatever that may look like for us - study, work, financial pressures. Instead, Jesus asks us to walk with him, do as he asks, and he will carry our heavy load for us. The other thing to consider, as Estella points out, is that we assume breaking to be a bad thing. But I think those really dark and hard times in my life is when I have known myself best. I have seen what I am capable of, for good or evil, and I have glimpsed the good that God can do, though anything.

Do I wish there was an easier way? Yes, of course. Would I choose not to go through those times if I could? No, I woul do it again, and I will do it again, as I learn all the lessons that God has planned for me, and the flames of the crucible continue to burn off the charf.

L'Affaire de la Coeur

Excuse my bad French to begin with - I think that's how it's spelt, but I can't remember.

Anyway, the point of this entry is a follow-up to one of my previous entries. If you haven't read it, it's not necessary - it was just me acting very angst-ridden about the state of my relationship with a friend, most of which is probably in my head.

So, I have been thinking a lot on the issue of romance and love, and I finally heard a very down-to-Earth sermon today that really seemed to drive the point home. As I have blundered about in the romantic arena, many wiser women have reminded me of the Song of Solomon's verse that talks about not awakening love too early. This all seemed very esoteric to me. How was I to know when was the right time? If I always think its too early, will I miss the person I'm meant to be with?

This sermon phrased it somewhat differently though, and I think that is what helped me understand. It said very bluntly that, as Christians, the goal of dating is marriage - not sex, not a good time, but marriage. Therefore, if you are not ready to get married, there is no point in dating. It seems harsh, and there are some people who it probably doesn't apply to - the kind of people who can continue a relationship at the same level for long periods of time. I am not one of those people; I don't have that kind of perseverance. But for me, a relationship that is not going to progress would be toxic, and I know I'm not available for that kind of relationship yet.

So I'm going to be kissing dating good-bye, to use the popular phrase, at least for the moment. At the moment, uni is my excuse. This may change as I grow and mature (hopefully!), and before my time at uni is over, I might be ready. But for now, no dating. Until it can be dating that can lead to forever.

Honesty in Mentoring

I have had the privilege of being mentored (or discipled, the word we use on campus) by an wonderful older Christian, and have recently been given the responsibility of doing the same for another girl. Meeting up with her has been a great experience for me, not only in being able to pass on some of the things I have learnt, but in the amount she teaches me - or God teaches me through her.

Today was a great example. This was the first time we've met up since university has resumed after the winter break, and so I didn't plan a lesson, but instead decided we'd spend some time discussing how our holidays are, and then praying. (As an aside, I don't know if anyone else finds this, but holidays can be a really hard time for faith, as you're away from all the normal ministry activities...) I'd also giving her the homework of writing out her testimony over the holidays, and we talked about that.

But my revelation came right at the end. We were discussing some things to pray about before we parted, and the usual things came up - balancing uni with life, praise for a good start to the semester, as well as praying for a friend who is having a tough time at the moment, when I realized there was some problems - sin - in my own life, that I'd been struggling with that morning. After much hesitation, and some vague attempts at prevarication, I told this to the younger girl. Expecting to see a bit of disappointment or even judgement on her face, I was surprised by her response. "You struggle with that, too?" she said. "Kit, that's such a relief for me."

We haven't really covered this particular area before, and I hadn't known it was a problem for her either. Now, it will be something we can work on together, and hopefully keep each other accountable to. So I hope I have learnt my lesson, that it is vital that we be honest with our disciples, and let them know when we are struggling.

Unity

We had a great talk today at uni from the campus co-ordinator of the Christian group I attend, and I just wanted to share what I took away from it, even though I'm sure you've heard it before.

Following the hype of World Youth Day here in Sydney, our talk this week was "Catholic, Protestant, Christian?". We looked not at any one specific denominations, or any particular issue of contention between the denominations, or at any reasons to support one over the other, but thinking about what we all believe and how we all need to be coming back to the central truths Christ taught.

Although the talk covered things like how we should go about choosing what church (not what denomination) we should attend, what I really liked was the focus on unity. If people from different denominations who all believe Jesus is their Lord and Saviour can't get over the difference they practice what is often essentially religion rather than faith, what kind of witness is that to the world? Why should anyone be interested in any church who can't agree with the other churches around it? If we show disunity as Christians, people will focus on that hypocrisy, rather than on Christ.

Unity is one of the things I love about campus ministry. Several of the Christian groups on campus are non-denominational, and I think this is great. Not only do you get exposed to other teachings and sources of input that you may not know about through your own church, but you are able to acknowledge that in such a secular environment as a university, all the more superficial differences fade away in the face of presenting a united front as Christians. Today, I was sitting with two other girls - one attends a Catholic church, the other a Uniting church. I attend an Anglican church. I think it is great when we are reaching out to the campus, that not only are we showing unity, but we are a unified group, despite our different backgrounds.

Fairytale?

I was listening to a great talk by Mark Driscoll, the pastor of Mars Hill Church in Seattle, on joy (from Philippians) and I was really struck by this question:

Why do we want the fairytale life?

This may seem an odd thing to ask - I'd never questioned it before. Of course I want - even expect - a good home and a happy family and the right job and a loving husband. I believed God would give them to me (in his timing, of course) because I wanted them.

But that isn't right, is it?

Think about it. Who is the person we are supposed to be modelling our lives on as Christians?
Jesus. That's an easy one.

Here's the crunch. Did Jesus have any of those things that go in my vision of 'the good life'?
No.

Jesus was poor. He came from a humble carpenter's family from a backwater town. Later, he was an itinerant preacher, relying on the support of others. Jesus didn't always have happy relationships with everybody. His friends abandoned and betrayed him. Jesus wasn't married - he didn't need an 'other half' to make him complete. And his job certainly wasn't stress free.

So if that is what kind of life Jesus, my Lord and Savoiur led, why do I think I deserve anything else? Why should I want anything else?

Haunted

Some of my university friends and I - two guys and two other girls - really enjoy watching movies together and eating a lot of junk food. So we've developed a holiday ritual of crashing at someone's house, hiring three or four movies and lazing on the couch all day. Now, particularly because of the influence of the boys, we tend to watch a lot of thriller and horror movies.

We had such a movie day last Wednesday, and I have been haunted ever since. The first movie the group decided to watch was Wolf Creek, which is an Australian horror movie. It has an 18 plus rating in most countries and it definitely requires it, because it has haunted me since.

And I only lasted for half the movie.

Most of the first part of the movie is spent setting it up, but when it starts to get gory, it goes all the way and very quickly. After 10 minutes of this, I was crying, shaking and completely nauseated.

One of my male friends, who regularly watches this kind of movie, was surprised by my strong response to what I was watching and hearing. He made a remark that seemed to imply he thought I should be able to seperate reality from the make up, effects and acting that is on the screen. I was unable to answer him at the time, and at that point, the other guy (whose house it was) stopped the movie to escort me to somewhere I could sit and entertain myself for the rest of the movie, as he could see I wasn't enjoying it.

Though he will probably not see it, here is my answer to why I think I responded so strongly to the scenes in Wolf Creek. One is that, in Australia, this story of kidnapped and tortured backpackers is not so far-fetched. We have had two high profile cases in my lifetime of backpackers or stranded tourists picked up off the highway and killed, sometimes in very brutal ways. The second is that this film is really confronting in the fac that it gives no excuses for the cruelty and sadistic inhumanity of the villain. In the other thriller/horror films we watched that day, we saw violence and death blamed on haunted houses, on curses and hoodoo, on alien invaders, and on schizophrenics who believe they're God. The killer in Wolf Creek was none of these things. He simply... killed and raped and tortured because he found pleasure in it. He found pleasure in evil.

I fear this. I fear it, because I know there is a tiny bit of this madness in every soul on this Earth. My own included, for certain. Because when we're left alone, in the wilderness, and all the rules seem to go out the window, this is what can come out. Maybe not to the same degree, in the same gruesome way, but it is there.

I certainly won't be watching horror movies anymore. It scares me too much, but not in the way most people think. I am not afraid of blood; I am afraid of people.

Words, words, words...

Words, words, words
I'm so sick of words
All I get all day through
First from him, now from you!
Is that all you blighters can do?

I don't know about you, but I get very sick of words and talking in general. One of the things I hate the most, is listening to the drivel that comes out of my own mouth. My mother has tapes of my sister and I talking when we're little, because she wanted to record our baby voices. She thinks they're cute; I cringe when I hear them, becuase what I am saying is such nonsense. The problem is, I've never grown out of it. Half of what comes out of my mouth is time-wasting rubbish. If you were to record me now, I would probably be in agony within minutes of playback, wondering why on Earth I thought it was necessary to utter many of the things I did.

So I undertook a project this week. Before I spoke, I was to think about what I was about to say. And more particularly, how is saying this serving God's kingdom on Earth?

We say things for many reasons. One obvious way of building God's kingdom through speech is speaking to God, in prayer and praise. Others are usually more indirect. It could be counselling a friend, encouraging someone, helping someone out, or just the words needed to plan an activity.

But we also say things that aren't kingdom building too. These are things that aren't loving. You know, the snide comment about someone we find unattractive and have to poke fun of; the whinging complaint because we feel we've been hard done by; the joke that tears down other people. Even the disruptive chatter when someone is trying to achieve something, and we hinder them.

This is what I plan to go to war on.

I have to say, that I haven't been entirely successful so far. I've still let out quite a few "catty" comments, joined in some highly criticising conversations at work and done more than my share of complaining. This is going to be a long term project, becuase it's not only a change in what comes out of my mouth, but also altering what the words are expressing - my thought and my attitudes that underly my words. And any change in us is only going to be through the power of the Spirit and through prayer.

Cause I'm a copykit...

Because I only have a few hours left to pack, until I need to sleep before heading off on one of the most awesome (imho) camps all year... I really wanted to post something though, so I've copied this quiz from my dear Nica at About a Girl. So, may I present, the Three Quiz (insert flourish here).

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:- Kit, Kitty and Trini

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:- Space of Flowers, Marauding Snowflake, Magenta Lee Hope

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:- My eyes - they can change colour!, my increasing curly (no longer frizzy) hair and my double jointed thumbs.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:- Multitude of scars from variuos surgeries and accidents, small veins which collapse when having blood taken and very acne-prone skin.

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:- Australian, Scottish and German.

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:- Heights, the concept of me driving a vehicle unsupervised and health care professionals who are in the 'business' for the money.

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:- God, writing in my journal and tea

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:- Black trackies, red hoodie and ugg boots

THREE OF YOUR FAVOURITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS:- Rebecca St James, Leeland and MercyMe

THREE OF YOUR FAVOURITE SONGS:- Iris, More Than It Seems and Comptine d'un Autre Ete.

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:- Love (which must first come from God, and is reflected in the love for one another), shared values and being able to serve one another.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE PREFERRED SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:- Expressive eyes (i.e. where you can see what that person is thinking or feeling by their eyes), arms suitable for giving good hugs and a smile that charms you into smiling back.... (No, of course I'm not picturing anyone in particular as I'm describing this....)

THREE OF YOUR FAVOURITE HOBBIES:- Knitting/embroidery, writing and sleeping.

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:- Hug Nica, sleep, do more knitting

THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING/YOU'VE CONSIDERED:- Pharmacist, foreign aid worker, chemical engineer

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON HOLIDAY TO:- Europe as a whole, Central and Eastern Canada/USA and anywhere in Asia

THREE NAMES YOU LIKE:- Jonathan, Felicity and Simon

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:- Become a wife and mother (in that order :P), finish strong in faith and see my parents (re?)commit to Christ.

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:- I don't usually consider putting on makeup before leaving the house, I think the hoodie is one of fashion's greatest achievements and my culinary expertise only extends to instant noodles and boiled eggs.

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A GIRL: - I classify gymnastics as a sport, I like to sew and do craft-y things and I love wearing pink.

Where I am from...

This is the speech I gave at my 21st birthday, which was last week - you may have noticed I had to change my header quote from Elizabeth Bennet's "not yet one and twenty" because I now am! It is a sort of poem - I got the idea from Elizabeth at The Merry Rose, who published hers a few momths ago now. There is also a website which explains how to write your own here. There are some explanatory notes at the bottom.

I am from the warmth of a crotcheted blanket, from vegemite on Sao biscuits and from Cruskits smeared with honey, eaten with my grandmother, hearing stories during breakfast in bed.

I am from the fragrant lavender and gardenias along our front path, the heavenly scented wisteria that drooped overhead and the weeping cherry who sways gracefully in the wind and blossoms in the spring, outside my bedroom window. I am from the creek where tadpoles were captured and from the mint and tomato plants that grew intertwined in my grandfather’s garden, sweetening the sea air.

I am from Scotch pride and from stories reported differently with every telling, some tales older than the hills and maybe a little overgrown with fiction. I am from the farm at Harry’s Creek, the post office in Yackandandah and those lost buildings of Old Tallangatta. From the little house where Grace lived and read her Bible every night and the street where bones were broken riding into a parked truck in the dark.

I am from Elizabeth’s prejudice and Mr Darcy’s pride, from Anne at Green Gables and her diamond bursts and marble halls, from Rebecca and her fairy story of Sunnybrook Farm. I am from worlds inhabited by dragons and dryads, where fey moons rise over emerald forests and epic quests for magic lions and magic rings unfold through the unlikeliest of heroes.

I am from long conversations on instant messenger programs and hours spent viewing the world through a computer screen. I am from a life with many cables attached, that yearns for the simplicity of the hand-written and the handmade.

I am from the sherry trifle for every special occasion, always with that extra dash of sherry for good measure, and from rich warm casseroles on the coldest of nights, straight out of the oven and soaking into toast.

I am from my father’s answers for a child never satisfied with not knowing why or how or when or what; from my mother’s arms around me, sacrificing her sleep when I could not, holding my hand through each time of stress or sickness or pain. I am from the games I played with my sister, the songs that we would sing, jumping of beds in our pyjamas and those old clothes we would dress up in when we were princesses or witches, nurses or brides.

I am from a second birth, a new creation of God, changed by grace and love, given yet wholly undeserved; from the Potter’s hand, which took an uncertain and unwilling heart - claimed it, reworked it and gave it purpose.

I am from a past of plenty – many smiles and tears, memories and photographs and stories. And I am from a future that will be far richer, in joy and in suffering, in wonder and in sadness and in hope, and always in love, as I discover who He made me be...


Notes:

Stanza 1: My maternal grandmother passed away when I was in Year 8. I miss her greatly, though I have strong and treasured memories of sitting up in bed with her each morning. My aunt would always bring Grandma her morning tea and the decribed biscuits (with extra ones for the little intruders) and Grandma would tell us stories of when she or her daughters were little. All the time there would be much fussing as to whether my sister and I were bundled up warm enough.

Stanza 3: The places listed as of historical significance to my mother's family. Grace was my dad's grandmother, and was something of a family matriarch. She was also the last 'born-again' Christian in my family before me. It seems doubly ironic to me that as well as inheriting her faith, I also inherited her name. (It's one of my middle names, for any one confused.) My dad broke his collarbone riding his bike down his street in the dark.

Stanza 4: Yes, in many ways, I am a 21st century girl - I love MSN, Blogger and my iPod! But I also love the satisfaction of knitting my own cushion covers, embroidering a brithday present for a friend and am looking forward to the challenge of learning to crochet this winter!

Stanza 8: A few people have questioned my use of suffering and sadness in my list of things I'm 'looking forward' to in the future. I'm not saying that I'm excited for the sad times or pain. I just know that God has a life planned for me that is going to challenge me as much as it is going to be joyful and beautiful.

How does she know?

From Disney's recent film "Enchanted", performed by Amy Adams...

Giselle: How does she know you love her?
How does she know she's yours?

Man: How does she know that you love her?

Giselle:How do you show her you love her?

Both: How does she know that you really, really, truly love her?

Giselle:It's not enough to take the one you love for granted
You must remind her, or she'll be inclined to say... "How do I know he loves me?"
"How do I know he's mine?"

Well does he leave a little note to tell you you are on his mind?
Send you yellow flowers when the sky is grey?
Heyy! He'll find a new way to show you, a little bit everyday
That's how you know, that's how you know!
He's your love...

Man: You've got to show her you need her
Don't treat her like a mind reader
Each day do something to need her
To believe you love her

Giselle:Everybody wants to live happily ever after
Everybody wants to know their true love is true...

Well does he take you out dancin' just so he can hold you close?
Dedicate a song with words in
Just for you? Ohhh!

All:He'll find his own way to tell you
With the little things he'll do
That's how you know
That's how you know!

Because he'll wear your favorite color
Just so he can match your eyes
Rent a private picnic
By the fires glow-oohh!

All:His heart will be yours forever
Something everyday will show
That's how you know
He's your love...

[I've edited it a bit, to remove all the pointless repeated lines, but I've kept any 'new' ideas]

I put this song in, because it in some ways reflects my struggles as a modern day young woman, and in others is the cause of those same struggles.

Before I became a Christian, I did think a guy's opinion was the be all and end all of my existence. I was head over heels for a guy, who probably had only one thing on his mind, and it wasn't discussing literature and music over coffee. It sounds harsh, but umm... Let's just say he moved on very quickly when I ran away scared of jumping in too fast. Because like most girls at the moment, I was torn between wanting the fairytale romance as described above to some degree and wanting everything "now", becuase that would make me whole.

Through a whole series of wonderful events, I finally got to know Jesus as my Lord and Saviour, and I forgot about most guys for a while (save one :P) - particularly because my youth group tends to seperate girls and guys in their younger years. But recently, it's been popping into my head more and more how much I would like to be in love and get married. Not because I need a guy to make whole - there's only one who can do that, and I've already fallen for Him - but because I would love to be a wife and mother. Yes, I want to have a career too (but pharmacy is a great profssion for working part time as a mother :P )

Now comes the crux of the issue. I had a crush on a guy last year, and of course it all came to nothing, once I was away from him for the summer. It was merely an attraction based on shared interests and a desire on my part to be "crossed in love" as Mr Bennet puts it in Pride and Prejudice. But this time it's a bit more serious. The guy I like is a very good friend to me, and I'm so confused as to whether I'm liked in return, or if I'm just a friend to him. Hence the song. How does one know if they are loved?

Now the song lists a whole stack of signs, most of which are very silly but the problem is that I find I start to look out for such ridiculous things. We take normal gentlemanly behaviour and think we're being singled out, or perceive a normal hug or kind word meant for affection or comfort to have romantic undercurrents attached to it. We begin to look for hidden meanings in things that didn't have any meaning in the first place.

But this friendship is too special for me to betray like that. So I'm going to be praying about this, but I'd love any thoughts or advice anyone out there has.

Whatever you do?

I was really challenged last night on what I do each day and the way I use my time.

"And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him." (Colossians 3:17)

I spend my week doing many things, some of which are dedicated to the glory of God, but much of which is not. I am not saying I go out and intentionally sin in this time, or at least I try not to. Rather, I tend to think of the time as being neutral, and as being my own.

But we are told "You are not your own; you were bought at a price" (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). And what a price it was. But what this means, is that my time is not my own, but rather, all God's, and everytime I go off to do my own thing, I'm stealing that time from Him. And I think we can all agree that theft is a crime, or a sin if you like.

God cares about everything we do, like the watchful parent of a young child. And we are commanded in Col. 3:17, that whatever we do is to be done in the name of Jesus. I'm not sure I want to place the beautiful name of Jesus up against all the deeds I do in my day. It doesn't give thanks to Jesus when I stand around doing nothing at work when I could be serving my patients and co-workers, or when I put off uni group assignments because I "have more important things to do" that I usually don't do anyway. Or when I lie in bed whining about the cold and refusing to get up. It's an enormous and scary challenge, but I want to be saying to myself, with each thing that I do, "How is this serving God and giving Him thanks and glory?"

Any thoughts, people?

Tears for this world

I can't watch the news, you know? It's not just that I won't, which wold be far more typical of people of my generation. But that I can't. Because more than half the time when I do, I end up in tears. Sometimes it's just a few tears rolling down my cheek - leaking out of the corner of my eye. But other times, the surging sobs I feel welling up in me mean I have to get away from the television immediately, or completely breakdown.

You don't have to be Albert Einstein to realise it probably shouldn't be like this.

No, you may say that I am obviously some overwrought, emotionally delicate child. That may in part be true. But that doesn't take away the fact that something is causing my tears.

Or you might say, most other people can watch this and not cry. But then I would have to say, is that a flaw in them or a flaw in me? If there is violence on our television screens, shouldn't it be making us scared and angry and sick? Or are we now completely desensitized to it, that it simply washes over us like water in the shower, but instead of taking away the dirt, it is stealing the feeling of our souls?

I am not claiming innocence in this desensitization process by any means. I have watched violent movies, and enjoyed them. I have seen images of people shot dead in cold blood and regarded it as entertainment. But when this nonchalance about sin in the fictional world begins to bleed intohow we see the real world, I have a problem. That is where I want to say stop, and look at what you seeing. Think about the implications of what you're seeing.

I started crying last time because of a story about modifying ambulances with stronger restraints. I think most adults would think "Good" and move on. But I kept thinking - what has brought us to this stage, where we have to be so concerned about the safety of our emergency workers, because the very people they are trying to help are wanting to kill them, in the mania of their methamphetamine induced psychosis. Who are these people, who are causing this massive damage to themselves and others? Did I go to school with them? Are they some of the people I see in class now? What do their families think? And how do the ambulence officers keep coming to work each day in the face of all this?

Commitment to Loveliness

This is an idea from... I can't really say a friend, cause I don't know her ( I haven't even commented on her blog!)... let's say a fellow blogger, whose journalling I have been following for a while, and which may have inspired me to take up the practice myself. Anyway, she has this thing - I don't know what you'd call it - called A Commitment to Loveliness, where you choose 5 things to make your life and that of those around a little bit more beautiful, and complete them during the week. Here is her list below:


http://charmingthebirdsfromthetrees.blogspot.com/2008/05/may-18th.html

So, here are my five things to make life that little bit more beautiful:

1. Clean up my bedroom - to the degree that I can vacuum and there is no clothing not in a drawer or the wardrobe!
2. Make fairy bread for the exec team and for my university friends!
3. Do the ironing this weekend, so my mum doesn't have to do it.
4. Catch up with the friends I haven't seen all week, and treat them to coffee/hot chocolate/any kind of chocolate.
5. Find old cross stitch projects and start finishing them off.

Hopefully those things will contribute to making life that bit better for us all. After all, what's life without a few glimpses of beauty and loveliness?

A Fairy Story

This is an extract from Kate Douglas Wiggin's novel, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. This is one of my favourite children's books, and I hope one day to read it to my own daughter (or son, but I tend to picture a daughter). While I love the whole book because of the beauty of the story and the charm of the characters, this 'story' written by Rebecca as her entry for her school essay contest touches my heart and my spirit. It's beautiful analogy of the earth bound princess having her burdens lifted by the command of "the King" (God) and her growing awareness of Him, and the joyful return of the "Fairy Godmother" (a servant of God - a believer) to His presence. When I go to God's presence, I hope that He will say to me that He heard me on the road to doing His work and be pleased.

A FAIRY STORY

There was once a tired and rather poverty-stricken Princess who dwelt in a cottage on the great highway between two cities. She was not as unhappy as thousands of others; indeed, she had much to be grateful for, but the life she lived and the work she did were full hard for one who was fashioned slenderly.

Now the cottage stood by the edge of a great green forest where the wind was always singing in the branches and the sunshine filtering through the leaves.

And one day when the Princess was sitting by the wayside quite spent by her labor in the fields, she saw a golden chariot rolling down the King's Highway, and in it a person who could be none other than somebody's Fairy Godmother on her way to the Court. The chariot halted at her door, and though the Princess had read of such beneficent personages, she never dreamed for an instant that one of them could ever alight at her cottage.

"If you are tired, poor little Princess, why do you not go into the cool green forest and rest?" asked the Fairy Godmother.
"Because I have no time," she answered.
"I must go back to my plough."
"Is that your plough leaning by the tree, and is it not too heavy?"
"It is heavy," answered the Princess, "but I love to turn the hard earth into soft furrows and know that I am making good soil wherein my seeds may grow. When I feel the weight too much, I try to think of the harvest."

The golden chariot passed on, and the two talked no more together that day; nevertheless the King's messengers were busy, for they whispered one word into the ear of the Fairy Godmother and another into the ear of the Princess, though so faintly that neither of them realized that the King had spoken.

The next morning a strong man knocked at the cottage door, and doffing his hat to the Princess said: "A golden chariot passed me yesterday,and one within it flung me a purse of ducats, saying: 'Go out into the King's Highway and search until you find a cottage and a heavy plough leaning against a tree near by. Enter and say to the Princess whom you will find there: "I will guide the plough and you must go and rest, or walk in the cool green forest; for this is the command of your Fairy Godmother." ' "

And the same thing happened every day, and every day the tired Princess walked in the green wood. Many times she caught the glitter of the chariot and ran into the Highway to give thanks to the Fairy Godmother; but she was never fleet enough to reach the spot. She could only stand with eager eyes and longing heart as the chariot passed by.Yet she never failed to catch a smile, and sometimes a word or two floated back to her, words that sounded like: "I would not be thanked.We are all children of the same King, and I am only his messenger."

Now as the Princess walked daily in the green forest, hearing the wind singing in the branches and seeing the sunlight filter through the lattice-work of green leaves, there came unto her thoughts that had lain asleep in the stifling air of the cottage and the weariness of guiding the plough. And by and by she took a needle from her girdle and pricked the thoughts on the leaves of the trees and sent them into the air to float hither and thither. And it came to pass that people began to pick them up, and holding them against the sun, to read what was written on them, and this was because the simple little words on the leaves were only, after all, a part of one of the King's messages, such as the Fairy Godmother dropped continually from her golden chariot.

But the miracle of the story lies deeper than all this.

Whenever the Princess pricked the words upon the leaves she added a thought of her Fairy Godmother, and folding it close within, sent the leaf out on the breeze to float hither and thither and fall where it would. And many other little Princesses felt the same impulse and did the same thing. And as nothing is ever lost in the King's Dominion, so these thoughts and wishes and hopes, being full of love and gratitude,had no power to die, but took unto themselves other shapes and lived on forever. They cannot be seen, our vision is too weak; nor heard,our hearing is too dull; but they can sometimes be felt, and we know not what force is stirring our hearts to nobler aims.

The end of the story is not come, but it may be that some day when the Fairy Godmother has a message to deliver in person straight to the King, he will say: "Your face I know; your voice, your thoughts, and your heart. I have heard the rumble of your chariot wheels on the great Highway, and I knew that you were on the King's business. Herein my hand is a sheaf of messages from every quarter of my kingdom.They were delivered by weary and footsore travelers, who said that they could never have reached the gate in safety had it not been for your help and inspiration. Read them, that you may know when and where and how you sped the King's service."

And when the Fairy Godmother reads them, it may be that sweet odors will rise from the pages, and half-forgotten memories will stir the air; but in the gladness of the moment nothing will be half so lovely as the voice of the King when he said: "Read, and know how you sped the King's service."

Rebecca Rowena Randall

Text copied from Project Gutenberg. You can read the whole book free there (or copy it to wherever you like), as this work is now out-of-copyright.

Semi-Charmed Kind of Life

I've just been reminded tonight and this morning (it's very early morning here, believe me) about how truly blessed I am...

I've just come home from seeing the most fabulous production of Phantom of the Opera, held at the Lyric Theatre in Sydney. It was wonderful, the beautiful singing, the passion of the acting, the incredibly effects, and just the magic of the whole atmosphere - plus I got to share it with someone as dear to me as a sister, as well as 11 other awesome friends and acquaintances. We were talking about musicals afterward, and the comment of a friend made me realise how lucky and indulged I was as a child, that I have experienced so much of the theatre and its magic. How many kids nowadays get taken to at least 5 musicals before the age of 9? My parents have been very good to me, and it's only now I realise just how incredibly blessed I was.

The other thing, which is even more special, is knowing that I am blessed by God. I had an exam two weeks ago, that was incredibly hard. I was certain I was going to fail. And not just a "Oh, I don't think I did incredibly well and I don't want to lose face" but a "I had know idea what they were asking in that question, and I hadn't even studied that material" kind of fail. But God "saw me out of the corner of his eye" and He carried me through. I can only say that the wisdom that ended up on that paper must have been heaven sent, because I certainly didn't take it into the exam with me. So, here's to God, for carrying me through this exam and giving me another chance.

Fashion... Yeah, right...

I am very sorry to all those fashionistas out there, but I can't stand the current fashions! There are just some looks out there at the moment that I think are either too ugly, too impractical, or just plain wrong, wrong, wrong.

1. There is no logical reason to wear shorts and thongs with a scarf wrapped tightly around your neck as if you are traversing Antartica. Either it is cold enough to wear the scarf, in which case you should be wearing clothes, not accessories, to keep you warm, or it is warm enough to wear your summery stuff without the scarf. Make up you mind, people!

2. If you are cold, put your jumper on. If you are hot, take it off. I'm sick of seeing people walking around with their arms through the sleeves of the jumpers, but not bothering to actually put the jumper on. Come on, take a look at yourselves! You look stupid!

3. Gumboots are not ever to be considered 'in fashion'. Full stop. I don't care who makes them, or what print they have on them, they are a type of footwear intend for gardening and wading though streams when fishing. They are not a fashion item!

There are other things that annoy me about the 'look' many people seem to be sporting nowadays, but those are my top three nitpicks for the moment.

He likes what?!

Despite this journal having a readership of one... although maybe it will become more eventually, or possibly I have a secret stalker I don't know about... but that is beside the point. In spite of the fact that no-one beside myself views this sad little corner of the internet, I would like to promote to you all a little piece of silliness that restores my sanity just by looking at it. I wish to present to you the website "I firmly believe that Mr Tulkinghorn likes muffins", generally found at http://www.loggods.com/pestilence/tulkinghorn/home.html. It is a delightful piece of whimsy (and you know how much I like whimsical things!) and it is just so funny.

Granted, it takes a fairly extensive knowledge of "Bleak House" to fully appreciate it. Not to much a sense of the ridiculous. But since I have the latter in spades, it is matters very little whether I have the former or not. But how can you not be amused by such a line as "Perhaps you missed the subtleties of what occurred during each jam-packed (strawberry jam, I assume) episode." I grant you in isolation, it is merely amusing, but in the context of the whole website, it is hilarious. In fact, the whole site is hilarious. I mean, a website dedicated to the idea that one of Dickens' most despised characters could have a secret yearning for good muffin is incredibly amusing, is it not?

A Little Comedy of Errors

Every week I send out an email newsletter for a club that I am part of. And every week, without fail, there is something that goes wrong - a piece of information that is missing, a late submission, an mistake in a time or a date... There's always something.

This week there were two things...

• Despite contributing to the newsletter almost every single week, there is one guy who always manages to update the website at the exact time that I am sending the newsletter off. This frustrates me immensely. I can't keep checking the website all night for updates and I send this newsletter at the same time every single week. Yet, every week I feel guilty, feeling certain that if I had just checked the website one more time, the late change could have been included.
• This week, there was a document to be attached to the newsletter. Unbeknownst to me (being merely the secretary), one of the senior club organisers had promised several people the registration form would be attached to the newsletter. When I came to attaching it, however, I found it wouldn't open properly on my computer without crashing my Word program. So instead of emailing the organiser back and letting him know the problem, I just ignored because I have an assignment due tomorrow and this crashing Word business was scaring me. So I sent the newsletter off without it.

One small newsletter. One of the many millions of emails some people may receive in the inbox each week. But every issue has its own story.

Breaking the Habit

It's always hard to kick a habit - or in this case, an obsession.

I am a Fanfiction Addict. I admit this, freely and openly. However, from now on I am hoping to say I will be a Reformed Fanfiction Addict.

I love to read. From the age of about 3 or 4 - I think - obviously my conscious memory isn't particularly good on this stage of my life - I began to read. And I would read everything. By age 6, I was practically devouring books from my school library. Anytime I could, I would read.

In high school, however, I began to find myself a bit short on time to sit down and read a whole book. At the same time, unfortunately, I discovered the internet, and the treasure trove of reading material available here - long, short, fiction, non-fiction... anything I wanted to read, right at my finger tips. And soon enough, I discovered that Holy Grail of FF on the net, the originally named 'Fanfiction.net'....

Hours upon hours of my time during the last few years have been consumed reading creative genius from all around the world. I've helped critique it, edit it and even write it. I've branched out from plain old FF.net to some of the more specialised sites out there - too many to name, though the Derbyshire Writers Guild (DWG) and Longbourn Loungers deserve a special mention as my favourite haunts for the past couple of years. But my addiction to fanfiction has grown to a point where I feel that it is seriously impinging on my life, in several areas.

Worst of all, is that I know that I sometimes place feeding my habit over really important things, like spending time with God. I don't know who will be reading this, but let me explain. I believe that the most important thing I possess on this Earth is a relationship with God, the creator of all things. And I want to invest time in this relationship, by seeking to know God, through prayer and reading the Bible. (If you disagree or agree with my beliefs, feel free to comment, but do so politely. Please treat me the same way you want to be treated when discussing your beliefs.)

There are other relationships that suffer too. I wonder sometimes if I am a stranger to my parents. Do they miss me, when I am at my computer, giggling away at a witty line in a story written by someone halfway across the world? I send her encouragement and ask her how she is. Have I asked them yet?

I know my work suffers, as I slip off into daydreams of the latest land I have just read about, or sneak onto the net for another fix, even when I know I shouldn't. And my health, as I spend hour upon hour of precious sleep time trawling the net for 'just one more story, before I go to sleep'.

I am not saying fanfiction is a bad thing. It is wonderful that so many young people are writing and reading, in a generation hooked to the audiovisual. It gives young dreamers like myself a creative outlet - a place to fly free and invent (although still safely tied to the canon of whatever world you are writing in...) But like almost everything, it must be done in moderation. When it begins to feed upon your life, you know you need to break free. And breaking free for me has to mean breaking all ties. Or that one story will lead to another, and then another, and another...

Welcome to the Land of Blog?

I'm not even sure why I am starting a new blog... It is completely unnecessary - a downright waste of time, in fact, as I have too much to do as it is, without even spending more time pouring out my soul into the vacuum that is the internet.

Oh dear. I've begun to sound quite depressed.

You may be surprised to learn, wide world, that I am not actually depressed. In fact, I am quite the opposite. In the past two years, I have discovered even more joy in my life than I knew was possibly. I have found the love of community of people united by a common hope and faith, and friendships that run deeeper than I thought possible.

And now I've decided I'm going to grow up a little bit. Not that I'm going to stop having fun. But it is time for me to start taking a lot more responsibilty for how my life is lived - and who it is lived for. And I want to be able to keep my promises to myself and to Him. It's very easy to keep promises to other people, you know. If you don't, you know you'll be wracked with guilt and shame for days afterward, and they may never speak to you again. But a promise to yourself? Who cares?? We don't respect ourselves enough to keep these kinds of promises. And promises to God? Well, at the time of fulfilling the promise, He always seems a long way away, doesn't He? But He's not, is He? And He sees and He knows. Thank goodness for grace.