I went to the library yesterday to do some research for my cultural competency paper on Native Americans. It took me a little while to figure out the library. Yes, I must admit that I’m a bit of a new-bee to the book section of the library. [You can feel free to laugh at me.] After reading a bit I decided it was a time for a break from the “entertaining” textbooks stacked before me. I wandered on up to the third floor and sat before a card-catalogue computer. “Martin Luther” was typed into the Author Search. Then I was off for the BV section of the third floor to hunt down a text that sparked my curiosity. Page 257 contained the lines that spoke volumes to me that afternoon.

Here’s a helpful little peep for all you men of the Lord out there…
[Coming from a girl who’s dating a Godly guy, I just wanted to help you all out.]

If you are looking for, at any point in your life, a responsible woman who has a God-fearing and serving heart and who, possibly, you may find yourself spending the rest of your life serving and growing with…

do not at any time refer to her as the animal pictured above.

Respect goes both ways.

And Godly women out there?
Don’t allow yourself to be referred to as the animal pictured above. Why? Because you are worth more. Besides, is it really a compliment to be called a fuzzy, soft, peeping, hopping, big-footed, defenseless, worm-eating, pooping animal? Like, it may be just me feeling this way but umm… can anyone explain to me how that is in any way a compliment?

I was filling out a youth ministry opportunity at the Attic [a hang-out for youth] and I wanted to share this with those of you who have a little Curious George inside of you.

Walking into the room last night I was feeling a bit strange about missing Crosswalk. I really enjoy filling my week with “church” activities, or at least activities that put me in close relation to the Body of Christ (the true Church). But last night I found myself surrounded by familiar faces from a different crowd, not to mention the plastic friends who also accompanied us. That’s right; it was a good ole four hour CPR class.

I looked about the room, studying the familiar and vaguely familiar faces. My eyes were met with smiles. I have to jump off on a tangent here and tell you, it’s so neat to work at a church. Yeah the kids are just as crazy (if not crazier, I tell ya) and I seem to have no hope of free time from 8am to 6pm because every hour I’m not in class and our center’s open seems to be on the market for the BCLC. But despite the minor complaints that I am very good at over dramatizing into life crisis (I really need to work on that), I really do enjoy my work much more than my previous job.

So I had this CPR class instead of attending my campus ministry meeting. There was the regular dramatized film about proper CPR technique, compulsion and breath rates, and such. Then after taking a state test of our newfound CPR knowledge, Sheila, our instructor, shared a story with us on the importance of knowing our stuff.

Last year Sheila suffered from a series of heart attacks. No words that I could ever write would ever be able to reproduce the extent of her struggles with medical staff in order to prove that she was indeed having a heart attack. EKGs and other such heart testers that are designed for men’s bodies and not women’s continued to turn up negative results. So, the medical staff kept sending Sheila home with various pulmonary (lung) infection medications, but refused to believe that Sheila was dying. Sheila, being well qualified to detect life-threatening situations (having been a registered nurse for well about 50 years) told her husband one morning after three weeks of heart attacks, trips to the hospital, and returning home with pulmonary infection meds, “This is my last day. I’ve heard people tell me time and time again in the hospital that it was there last day to live, but I never knew how they knew. But now, I know. This is my last day.” Her husband took her to the hospital and demanded to have an angiogram (or however you spell it) test on Sheila. While the test results were in process, a cardiologist from out of town who knew Sheila drove all the way in from his vacation, took one look at Sheila and said, “This woman is having a heart attack!” The tests came back. Sheila’s main artery to her heart was 98% clogged.

She was rushed into open heart surgery, where after opening her up, the operator came over to Sheila, who had refused sleeping meds during the procedure, and said, “I am so sorry, Sheila. [The front section of her heart had stopped beating all together at that point.] I am so sorry. What do you want me to tell your family? Is there anything you want to say to them?” It was at that moment that Sheila realized that nothing she said now would ever be enough. If her family did not know by now how she felt about them, it was too late. “Tell them I love them. But they already know that,” she responded. “Is there anything I can do for you?” asked the operator in sympathy. “I want you to pray with me.” Sheila spoke.
The doctor looked around uncomfortably because he was Jewish. Regardless, the whole operating crew got together and Sheila prayed. To this day Sheila has no idea what she said in prayer, but she does remember ending the prayer, “in Jesus’ loving name.” and thinking to herself, that’s funny, this Doctor doesn’t even know Jesus. He is Jewish. “Just maybe that’s what he needed to hear” She later commented.

Sheila remembers looking at the clock at five minutes till 9 and knowing inside of her that she would be meeting God in 5 minutes. That is when a wave swept over her (tears filled Sheila’s eyes as she told this part of the story). “But, Lord,” she remembers speaking to God, “I have nothing to lay at your feet. I am dirty filth.”

“Now I don’t care what anyone says to me,” Sheila spoke boldly through her tears to our class, “But I know what I heard and God spoke the loudest I have ever heard Him before and His voice filled my head, ‘But Sheila, I AM WORTHY!”

Sheila’s story ends as she watched a miracle before her very eyes as her heart, not once being touched by any Doctor’s hands, began filling with blood once again and started beating. [She was watching on the monitor that the operator looks at because she had asked him to turn it so she could see it too.]

“I told you this story for two reasons,” Sheila explained to us. “Number one, to tell you women to have an advocate for you if ever you get into a situation that you cannot speak for yourself in and number two,” She said with tears in her eyes, “to give Honor where it’s due.”

Little did I know that in going to a CPR class I would be flooded with the Holy Spirit. CPR Church was awesome last night with the Body of Christ.

Praise be to the Lord on High…

All Glory and Honor to the King.

So, Coretta Scott King died yesterday. She actually passed away at 11:25 on Monday night after battling ovarian cancer, but the family officially announced it on Tuesday. For those of you who did not know, Coretta was the wife and widow of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. And it wasn’t odd how after picking up the paper this morning on my way to class, I found myself fascinated by Coretta’s story of a lifetime of devotion and grace. See, I began to feel a connection to Dr. MLK back in elementary school due to the fact that our birthdays (or at least his “nationally recognized birthday”) tend to fall quite near each other. In fact, every seven years, I get my birthday off from school because of MLK. So, thus began my curiosity of MLK. Now, with this internal seeking of justice, which molds my character, I realized that I have a similar drive and passion as MLK, though I’m sure it’s not even close to what used to be his full intensity. Regardless, with news of Coretta’s death and in light of “growing up” a bit in my character since the last time I really sat down and thought about MLK, this morning I found myself in not only a sense of awe at Coretta’s strong character, but also a challenge to my own character.

Recently I have been quite challenged to memorize scripture. Thanks to Dawn, my discipler’s, constant nagging (I truly am grateful); I am finding myself, once again, stretched academically for Christ. It’s funny how easy it is to separate academic work and Christ. You know, like in the past I’ve so easily assumed that my walk with the Lord will be nothing but ease with no real requirements out of me. When I bounced back to reality, I found that my walk would be a constant battle over my morals. But even now in my walk, I am finding that the intensive studying, memorizing, and regurgitating information (as I refer to it) which school seems to require of me can also be applied to my walk with the Lord. I don’t know why I was so naïve to separate hard academics from the Lord who desires ALL disciplines, not just a few.

So how do these two relate? Excellent question. They connect in my mind on the basis of character. Who do you want to be? Coretta may not have woken up one morning and thought, “Today I am going to be Martin’s wife, mother of four, advocate of peace, supporter of equality, demander of justice…” and the list could go on. But the fact is, she got up each morning and accepted the tasks that the day gave. She rose to the challenge. She did not give in. Why? I don’t know what fueled her. But I do know Who fuels me.

I don’t need my name in the paper or my picture on a magazine. I don’t need an interview with Oprah or even a world-famous name. But what my heart does thrive upon is staying true to the way I was made. I must rise to the challenge. I will overcome. Because it’s not me, but Christ within me that has triumphed long ago on a cross. I was made to thirst for a challenge and hunger for growth. The Lord created me to seek to be less, all the while being more in Christ. I have not stirred this within me, I am incapable of doing such, but it is the Spirit within me that promotes my reckless pursuit of Christ. I will not succeed every day at remaining a living sacrifice because many a day I find myself crawling off of the altar, but this remains true… “I can do all things through Christ who gives me the strength I need.” (Phil. 4:13)

In His name alone do I find the motivation to rise to the challenge of growth.

O Praise Him.