I've never been very good at time. I experience three times-- past, present, and future-- and these are never broken down into smaller units. If it happened in the past, then it's in the past and I can't be any more specific than that. I just literally cannot place it in the grander scheme of time. Ask anyone who's been friends with me ever. "Hey Kels, do you remember that book you were telling me about last week? Maybe the week before?" True story. But even though I'm not great at time, it was certainly different in college than it is now. In college, time moves very quickly. There's so much packed into every day, that it seems like everything couldn't possibly fit into just one Friday- but it does. You have so much control over your own time; you can do your homework whenever you schedule it, socialize when you want, or even combine the two. The only obligations you have are 1) a part time work schedule and 2) classes (but even then we choose whether to go to class or not). The largest block of time you measure in is semesters, which are mere months. Time is not like that after college. Time moves slower. Multiple years replace a single semester. And this is the reason I now hate this question "So, what's God teaching you right now?" In college there was always an easy answer to this question. When in doubt, cite last night's Bible study passage. In the midst of relationship drama, friend group troubles, and essay deadlines, who wasn't learning a million little lessons in every tiny moment? It's easy to learn new things when every moment contains a new thing, when your life is a big, constantly-in-flux scramble of hectic.
But if you ask me what God's teaching me now... um, sorry, but how should I know? I haven't learned it yet. You know what I do every day? I wake up. I go to work. I come home. I apply for jobs. I read. I go to sleep. Sometimes I even eat and/or shower. There is nothing new, there are no surprises. Time is constant, and therefore so much longer. The metaphorical seasons of my life don't line up with neat little semesters anymore, and neither do the lessons I'm learning. We don't tend to know what we've learned until, well, after we've learned it. It's after we overdraw on our bank account that we learn to budget. It's after the heartbreak that we learn how to better guard our hearts. It's always retrospection that allows us to say, "yes, I see what God was teaching me. I see how I've grown." We are never able to do this in the moment. My moments are longer now. But just because I can't answer your question, doesn't mean God isn't working in my life. Rachel Fruit and Labor
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A wonderful band called "The Brilliance" has a new album dropping on February 17th. But you can listen to the entire thing by streaming it here (it's legal so relax). They've got a mix of new songs, and new versions of old songs. I just need to highlight one new lyric added to the song "Does Your Heart Break?" When the man said, “You are choking me.” And he cried out, “I can not breathe.” Does your heart break? For those unfamiliar, this lyric is very clearly referencing Eric Garner, a man who was killed this past year on July 17th. He was put in a chokehold by police officers who suspected him of selling cigarettes. He repeated "I can't breathe" 11 times before dying. Despite the facts that :
(1) the use of chokeholds is not allowed by the NYPD (2) medical examiners ruled that he died as a result of a chokehold (3) He was not physically threatening the officers in any way so that the use of lethal force would be justified (4) The entire thing was caught on tape A grand jury decided not to indict. This was just yet another death, and yet another case of racism aborting justice. Much of the white-church has been silent on the struggles of our black brothers and sisters; I'm grateful to The Brilliance, for using their musical platform to recognize what happened. I've loved these artists for their musical ability. And now I can love them for their stark honesty. Rachel Fruit and Labor I really like this other church in my town. I still do. I think. But I'm definitely feeling a mixture of sadness, anger, indignation, and disappointment. With maybe a tiny zest of betrayal on top. Two weeks ago the pastor did an entire sermon on biblical masculinity. I really appreciated the way he approached the entire subject, and heard him present a new take on gender I hadn't heard before. It was very deep, and gave me a lot to think about. Last week I was out of town and missed the sermon on biblical femininity, so I listened to it online today. I can say this-- it mostly got better as things went on. Kind of. Maybe. It was a pretty wild ride, to be honest. I'm still processing all my emotions and thoughts on this sermon regarding biblical femininity. Here are some of the bigger ones:
Overall, it was still probably the best sermon I've ever heard in a church regarding women. Which is pretty sad, I think. Maybe that's what makes me even more despondent. Rachel Fruit and Labor |
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