Habakkuk? Really?

In my mission team meetings we've been talking a lot about who we are, who we should be to the Lakota, and who we should be in Christ. Team Leader said that after the last trip he had a girl decide she wants to do teen suicide prevention. This girl is an English major. In the words of Team Leader, "English majors aren't supposed to do things like that! Redford majors are supposed to do things like that!" (Redford is the ministry majors here, FYI). Later he was talking about some things he was dealing with in his personal life and he said that God sent him a verse. In Habakkuk. Of all places. I think his mind was kind of blown, because he sounded incredulous. He said that he was headed for Romans, but God just cut him off and gave him something totally different. Which I think is totally cool.

The other day in small groups we were talking about how we tend to think that we don't need to give of our time and money NOW. We plan on it, just as soon as life slows down a little, or once (in our college student cases) we get jobs and steady paychecks.

I think both of these situations lead to an interesting place. So many times we think that someone need to do something, to change the world. Someone other than us. We can't do anything. We are ministry majors. We don't have high paying jobs and steady salaries. Someone else is going to have to do it for us. We'll stand on the side lines and cheer, we'll make a Facebook group/event to show our mediocre support, we may even casually mention it to a few friends. Just as long as we ourselves don't have to get in, get involved, and get messy.

Guess what? There are more non-ministry majors than there are ministry majors. Guess what else? The disciples were fishermen. Some of the prophets were farmers. Matthew worked for the IRS. Rahab was a prostitute. Every person God has ever used has been nothing but a human and a screw-up. Some of them were "ministry majors," and many of them weren't. Some of them were bigger than others.

Our majors, jobs, salaries (or lack thereof), familes, etc. should not determine our usefullness to God. It doesn't matter what stage of life you're in. You still have something to offer. You have something to give.

We expect great things out of people like Abraham and Paul.

Maybe it's time we started expecting great things out of people like Zephaniah and Habakkuk as well.

Maybe we should begin to expect it of ourselves.

Read and React

I love alliteration. I was told that titles should always be capitalized. There you have it. Last week stunk. In just about every way, shape, and form. I honestly spent just about the whole time wallowing in the depths of dispair. I also contemplated quitting my major and becoming a librarian? Why? Because surely even I could handle a job like that. On second thought, I'd probably just catch the library on fire. I KNEW I should have just become an NFL referee. Speaking of which, boys like you a whole lot more when you agree to play Fantasy Football with them. Just saying. They probably won't like me as much once I start beating them. Assuming that there's a season this year. :( Ok, that was waaay off topic. All this to say that once I actually stopped to pray about the project I was working on (redoing for the fourth time, actually) it went fairly well. And I felt a whole lot better about myself and my life. But why didn't I do that in the first place? Because I had never had problems with this before. Because it had never been a big deal. Because I thought I was awesome and could handle it. Because I didn't think God would really be that interested in my temporary, stressed-out, college student problems. Then I was reminded, I'm kind of supposed to talk to Him about this stuff all the time. Because He does care, and He does have time. He is God, after all. Maybe if instead of freaking out, planning to run away to Brazil, or dragging my friends down with my negativity, I should just let Him take care of it. You'd think I'd know this by now. Apparently not. Which is a disappointment. But I guess...live and learn.

Why must blog posts always have titles?

Titles are ridiculous things. They work for book and magazines, but that's as far as it goes. What if I have a super awesome blog, but my title ends up being horrific, people decide not to read it as a consequence, and I never become famous? That would be tragic! So please, read the blog regardless of the title. It probably won't be super awesome, but hey, I can try can't I?

So. English class. Simulation game. Apparently the earth is about to be hit by a meteor, and everyone will die. Drat. But! We have a space ship. We also have a distant planet that is apparently capable of sustaining human life. One problem. It's one of those two door models that only seats five. So out of the whole entire world, the world being the class, only five get the esteemed privelige of living next week. I am a 17 year-old punk rocker. That's right. You heard me. So, why should I get a seat on the space ship? I really don't know. I wouldn't vote for myself. However, we are required too, so I had better come up with something, eh? The rest of the world is composed of: An Amish wagon maker, a car salesman, a homeless person, a televangelist, and astronaut with herniated disks, a McDonald's employee, a poet who grows orchids, a 12 year-old genius with diabetes, a nurse with arthritis, a parent with three children, a sterile doctor, a geneticist with a criminal record, a prostitute, a college freshman, an unemployed inventor, a high school science teacher, a janitor, a high school sophomore, a supermodel, and a CEO. ...and five of us are supposed to get together and start a colony? Riiight...at least we get credit for it, I guess. Although, if you think about it, the prof won't be on the space ship, therefore she won't be on the planet, therefore she cannot grade us, therefore our lives in English have been wasted. Stink. We tried suggesting to her that we should just call Chuck Norris and he would take care of the meteor, but she said no. I have a feeling I shall remain on earth to die. Maybe I'll call Chuck anyway.

On a totally nonrelated note, I have eaten nothing but sandwiches, chips and honey buns today.