Eve: A Desire for Knowledge

Eve is the most notorious woman in the Bible. Think about it for a moment. The centuries that women have been labelled as "temptresses" or poor decision makers aren't because of the prostitutes of the Bible or the few non-intelligent women of the Bible. No, it's because of Eve and her disastrous mistake.

Because you know us woman. We're all sultry temptresses with no desire other than to bring down the men around us. (*rolls eyes*)

So let's take a closer look at Eve's story and see if she deserves this label she's been given.

In my New American Standard Version of the Bible the versus about Eve's temptation read as follows (the break up between the versus is my own):

Now the serpent was more crafty than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made. And he said to the woman, "Indeed, has God said, 'You shall not east from any tree of the garden'?"

The woman said to the serpent, "From the fruit of the trees of the garden we may eat; but from the fruit of the tree which is in the middle of the garden, God has said, 'You shall not eat from it or touch it, or you will die.'"

The serpent said to the woman, "You surely will not die! For God knows that in the day you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil."

When the woman saw the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was desirable to make one wise, she took from its fruit and ate; and she gave also to her husband with her, and he ate.

Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings. (Gensis 3: 1-7)

Now, looking at these versus there are a couple of things that stand out to me, but let's just focus on one for the sake of brevity. How did the serpent tempt Eve?

What did he say that he knew would push her over the edge to disobey God? Was it things that might be viewed as stereotypical of a woman? No. He didn't say, "Look how pretty the tree is." Or "the fruit will make you thin and beautiful" or "the fruit will make Adam like you better."

Eve was a woman in her purist, most innocent form--the ultimate woman--and what did the snake offer her that put her over the edge? Look at it again. He says "your eyes will be opened" and "you will be like God, knowing good and evil." The snake offered her to be like God, and the aspect of God he harped on was his knowledge.

He offered woman knowledge, and that was the temptation that put her over the edge. Eve wanted knowledge.

A desire to learn, a desire for knowledge is not considered a stereotype of women. Women have, if anything, been considered stupid and without a desire or a need to learn for the past several centuries. In past centuries, people have uttered phrases like "it's useless to educate women" or "women have no use for education." But the temptation that led Eve to disobey God was not beauty or music or pleasing someone. It was a desire for knowledge.

I think this is fascinating. I think this says something about women. I'm not condoning Eve's disobedience of God at all. She should not have taken the apple. But I think its a fascinating story that the first woman ever created desired knowledge so much that she disobeyed God.

I must say the desire to know is something that definitely drives me. I'm an engineer, and you don't become an engineer without a desire to know how things work, how they operate. The world has always tried to make me feel that this is a weird desire for a girl to have, but here in the very first story in the Bible about a woman I learn otherwise. If anything, it seems to be a woman's most basic desire.

And I think there is a lesson in this. We cannot let our desire to know to overcome our faith, our following of God. We don't always need to know why He tells us to do the things he does. We must trust. We must understand that our desire to know needs to take a backseat to what God desires. We must obey him.

But we also shouldn't let people tell us it's not womanly to know or learn, that knowledge is someone not a part of who we are. Clearly it is. We just need to learn to harness it for the good side of the Force, for God's will.

Are you a woman reading this? What do you think?

The New Schedule!

So I've been thinking about what the schedule should be for a few weeks now. I've had several ideas for different series of posts but was unsure which series could be long term for the schedule. And then a couple of things hit me. So without further ado, here it is:

Monday: Writerly Thoughts

This is the day where I'll discuss topics that relate to my writing, writing in general, and books. This should be a familiar series to anyone who has read this blog for a while. Check out other posts labeled writing or writer to know what I mean.

Wednesday: Women of the Bible

We all know one of my New Year's Resolutions is to have a steady quiet time. I really suck at this sort of thing. I've had this women of the Bible book for a really long time. It's a devotional that focuses on a different woman of the Bible each week. So in order to create an accountability for myself, I will post about the woman of the week every Wednesday, my thoughts about her story like how it relates to my life or things I struggle with or more esoteric aspect of the story.

Fridays: Farscape First Watch
So tor.com has several show re-watches running, where someone watches The X-Files or Star Trek: The Next Generation and analyzes the episodes with knowledge of the entire series and society as it is now. These re-watches are fantastic--I've read the entire Star Trek one--and I would eventually like to do something like that for Stargate: SG-1, my favorite show of all time. However, I am also trying to meet a New Year's resolution of getting in shape (so I can survive the zombie apocalypse). The only time I managed to work out regularly was when I told myself I could only watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer if I worked out while watching it. This was my first watch of Buffy, so the episodes where brand new and surprising--and able to completely distract me from the fact that I'm working out.

Sometimes I like to think I've seen every Science Fiction TV show out there, but the truth is that simply isn't true. Whether its because I didn't get the channel or because I was too young for the content of the show, there are several SF shows I haven't seen, one of which is Farscape. So I've decided that is to be the show I'll watch while I work out.

I know absolutely nothing about Farscape other than the actors who play Valla and Cameron Mitchell from the later seasons of Stargate: SG-1 are the stars of the show. Because I'm coming from such a blank slate on the show, I think there is something to be said to chronicle my initial reactions and thoughts, whether they be first impressions or exclamations at how the plot unfolds.

If I only post Farscape episodes on Friday it will take us a long time to get through the entire series. However, for now it will only be Friday because I have no idea how I'll like the show and I don't want this to become the rant against Farscape blog. As I get into a blogging routine, I hope to one day expand to blogging every day of the week, except Sunday, and then I'll probably post two Farscape episodes a week. But for now, it's once a week.

So that's the new schedule! I hope you guys enjoy it! First Farscape post will be Friday, but otherwise things will start up on Monday!

Using Logic in Life Decisions

This past semester the project manager of my research project was a senior who was graduating. He was a little lost in what he was supposed to do with life. Since I was a graduate student he had been working closely with—and theoretically respected—he came to me for advice on what he should do. Like any graduating senior he was faced with a choice: do I go out and get a job or do I go to grad school? And to add extra complication for him the grad school question broke down further: do I work in the Center for Space Systems or do I work in the ASDL? (Since he had offers from both). He was feeling quite lost and didn’t know what to do. So he asked me a lot of questions like “why did you chose to go to grad school?” and “why did you pick CSS over another group?”, etc.

So one day we were discussing this as we were walking somewhere (I have no idea where we were coming from or where we were going). I made the comment that for me, staying at Georgia Tech was an extremely hard decision. It went against all my emotions and gut instincts. I had been at Georgia Tech for four and a half years and the nomad in me could not allow for living somewhere that long. This was actually a huge deal for me.

So he asked, “Then why did you decide to stay at Georgia Tech, if you had such a strong feeling to the opposite?” I responded that I had made a pros and cons list and the pros of staying at Georgia Tech far outweighed the cons. The nomadic feeling was honestly my only con. And I recognized that this feeling was my messed up nomad brain trying to freak me out and make me run, when I should stay. The pros were just too great.

The boy looked at me with a completely stunned expression. He said, “You made a life decision using a pros and cons list? Using logic?”

I was baffled by his response and it took a lot of questioning to unwrap what he was actually saying. What was he saying? Well, we were both Christians and we both knew that. In his mind, God CAN NOT possibly speak to a person through logic. God speaks through feelings. So my feeling to run MUST have been from God. And the logical choice clearly wasn’t.

I could not believe I was hearing this from someone, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that many Christians think this is true. People expect conviction to be emotional, that God will bring you to tears. They expect people to be overcome with emotion and close their eyes while singing or dance to the music. They do not expect you to be sitting in your room studying your Bible and instead of being struck by sudden tear bringing conviction, saying “Huh. God seems to indicate in His Word that I shouldn’t do this. I should probably change my ways.”

How did this happen? How did we so disconnect God from logic? I’ll admit that God’s logic is not always our human logic, but God gave us brains for a reason. He gave me the ability reason. He gave me the ability to make decisions. And if I’m not hearing a voice from the heavens or seeing handwriting on the wall, I’m probably going to trust logic over my feelings when it comes to life decisions.

Because that nomad feeling? The feeling that I need to run and find a new place to live? That definitely wasn’t a God feeling. That was my brain. And I’m a logical enough person to realize where that feeling came from. It came from years of never living anywhere longer than four year. It came from frustration of not knowing how to maintain friendships past four years. It came from anger at the person I’d been labeled as—the person people saw me as—instead of the person I saw myself as.

And the logic? It made complete sense. And if I had not chosen to stay at Georgia Tech I would not be in this awesome job that was perfectly made for me. A job that I fit into like a hand in a glove. A job that I’m very certain God wants me to be in.

So please, do not disregard logic because you don’t believe God can use logic as easily as He uses emotions. God is all powerful. He can do anything. He can work through logic or emotion, pros and cons lists or strong feelings.

It’s sort of like being a Jedi (yes, I’m going geek on you here). Remember in the middle of the Empire Strikes Back? When Luke had that overwhelming feeling he should run off and save his friends? And Yoda was the voice of reason saying “Don’t do it!” Sometimes a Jedi is supposed to trust their feelings—just like a Christian—but this was a scenario where Luke should have listened to Yoda’s logic. Where logic would have yielded the response the Force (God in this metaphor) wanted.

So trust your feelings, Padawan. But remember that some emotions lead to the Dark Side.

Harry Potter

(Another late post. Forgive me. I'm not trying to make this a habit. It doesn't help that I live in Mountain Time now either.)

I've written about Harry Potter three times before on this website. Once, I reviewed the sixth movie. Another time I spoke about The Harry Potter Generation--how the books brought my family together and made me friends I never had before. Then I talked about how Harry Potter introduced me to even greater books--how it literally changed my life.

And today is the day it all ends. The end of an era.

But today is also Thursday, so I'm supposed to talk about my faith. But I can get away with talking about Harry Potter today, because Harry Potter has been one of the most controversial Christian topics in recent history. (You know that and gay marriage. Somehow, I feel like Harry Potter should be a more trivial concern, but that's just me).

So how do I as a Christian rationalize reading Harry Potter? Well it's actually really easy.

Harry Potter isn't real. Can I say that again? Do you get that? HE'S NOT REAL. I may have been 11 when I started reading Harry Potter, but I wasn't stupid. Kids aren't stupid. We get it. Harry Potter is not real.

Yet somehow parents, who spend years convincing their children that there is a man in a red suit who sneaks into their house once a year to give them presents, condemn something that everyone accepts as not real.

Some people argue that Harry Potter is a gateway into witchcraft, which is clearly denounced in the Bible. However, I think there is a definition difference here. Witchcraft in the Bible seems to be calling upon spirits and using dark powers to do something. Wizardry (and witchcraft) in Harry Potter is not the same.

Even if at 11, had I thought Harry Potter was real, I would never have "tried to become a witch". Why? Because it's more like being a Jedi. You can't become a wizard. You're born a wizard. I received no letter at the age of 11 asking me to come to a magical school, so obviously I'm not a wizard by the definitions of Harry Potter.

As for Harry Potter not being a "Christian book" in general, if my parents had limited me to only "Christian books", I fear for what my reading level would have been. I love God. I love Jesus. I love my beliefs and my faith. But I do not love Christian literature. Most of it is poorly written and it patronizes the reader--even the adult ones.

So if I'm allowed to read The Sweet Valley Twins and The Boxcar Children, which aren't Christian books--where is the line?

As for the argument that Harry Potter is a bad role model because he disregards the rules and has no respect for teachers--I challenge that someone who makes this argument ever read this book. Harry respects the teachers who deserve his respect. He does not respect Snape because Snape treats him so poorly and unfairly. I would not respect a teacher like that either. Yet despite his disrespect for Snape, he rarely directly challenges him. And in the end, (slight spoiler! Skip to the next paragraph if you haven't read the books or seen the movie) Harry learns that not only was Snape worthy of respect, but he was the bravest man he ever knew.

Also, I would challenge the person making such an argument to find a middle grade fiction book where the protagonists actually obeys his elders. It doesn't exist.

I am 24 years old, and I have read Harry Potter for over half of my life. And I love my God with an undying devotion, and I uphold the teachings of the Bible higher than anything else. Clearly, Harry Potter has not scarred me for life. If anything, I believe Harry Potter has made me a better person and has made me a better Christian.

You have the right to believe whatever you wish, but I believe in God. And I don't think God is upset with me for having read and enjoying Harry Potter. I think He used it as a tool to teach me about friendship, good, evil, snap judgements, and how to socialize with my peers. He could have done it without Harry Potter, but I am grateful that He chose to use Harry Potter to teach me these things.

Faith Thursdays

I know in the past, I never had a scheduled day of the week to discuss my faith, or God, or anything like that. This was for a very good reason. I didn't want to become fake or rote, or feel like I had to write something because of a schedule. It's sort of like when you close your eyes while singing. Sometimes you do it because you really feel it, and sometimes you do it because you want people to think you really feel it. I never want to be that second scenario. It's so easy to become fake, to know the Sunday School answer and so just write about it. Therefore, I never scheduled a day of the week. I only wrote about things when they came to mind.

This summer is different. Why? Well, there are a lot of things on my mind and heart. A lot of issues I'm struggling with. Well, maybe struggling isn't the right word. I feel like that conveys I'm having a hard time believing something. I'm not struggling with my faith. I'm struggling with what I've always been told to believe about issues in my faith. I'm struggling with things that people don't like to talk about. And I struggle with the role of adviser that so many of my friends give me. As someone other people respect, I have a responsibility to know what I'm really talking about, to know it and really believe it.

So this summer I plan to do some research on certain topics, research it and sort of write essays here on what I think. I'm no C.S. Lewis, but I do take the Bible seriously, and I think too often as Christians we let our American culture infect what we think we should believe. So here are a few topics on my heart that I'm going to explore:

--The American Dream: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness
--The Responsibility of the Wealthy
--Divorce and Remarriage
--Marriage and the Wife
--Marriage and True Love
--Singleness

You'll notice there seems to be a theme here, and there is. A lot of my friends have gotten/are getting married this year. From February to December of 2011, there are eight weddings. Eight. It's crazy. It really is. And essentially all my best friends now have either gotten married or are getting married. And as I think about marriage, the Bible, and American culture, I have some thoughts and questions.

And these thoughts and questions have led me to other thoughts that mainly directly correlate to happiness. I have a lot of questions about happiness and what sort of goal it should be in our lives. Clearly, American culture says its should be pretty high, but lets just say, I'm not so sure.

However, in addition to these topics, I will also write about other things I've promised in the past to write one: namely, I'll finish my evolution series, which I started and never finished due to the chaos that occurred in my life at the end of the last semester. (You know, getting a new job, moving to Albuquerque, etc). But there were be other little topics, but I'll leave those for a surprise.

And just so we're on the same page, the reason I'm doing this is not so I can show off my flashy Christian knowledge. I'm partly doing this because I have friends who ask me questions about these beliefs a lot and so it would be nice to have an essay I could direct them to do. I'm also doing it because these are topics I want to/need to study, and by mandating that I will post my results here, I'm giving myself deadlines and accountability. I really need that sort of thing sometimes. That's what happens when you've been in school all your life. You need someone to say "this is do then". And if no one gives you a deadline, you don't do it.

I also just need to organize my thoughts, and as a writer and engineer, if I don't write my thoughts down they're not organized.

So I hope you'll all bare with me as I stumble through the Bible and try to figure things out. And if you have any topics you would like to suggest, I'm open. I intend to use the topics as a study guide through my Bible study, so extra direction is always appreciated.

5 Billion Years, Seven Days, or Yesterday

Last Thursday I talked about Galileo and why I never out of hand disregard a scientific discovery. Today I'm going to talk a little bit about the craziness that is the Evolution versus Creationism debate.

There are a lot nuances to this debate that I don't think most people even consider, but I'm going to divide up our conversation into three topics: 1) Traditional Seven Day Creationism, 2) the Universe is 5 Billion Years Old, and 3) the World was Created Yesterday. In this post, I'm just going to talk about the first of those topics. The other topics will follow next week.

1) Traditional Seven Day Creationism
I do not disbelieve in the Seven Day creation. I think that's an important point to make. If I get to heaven and God says, "You know what Mandy? You were meant to take that very literally and the universe was actually created in seven 24 hour periods (give or take the little bit that adds up to leap year)", I won't be surprised. Now the scientists out there might cry out and say, "How can you possibly believe this is true? All scientific evidence points directly to the universe being much older!"

The apparent age of the universe is a good point that I feel like people don't discuss enough when it comes to this debate. Yes, the universe seems very old. The scientists are not lying when they say measurements point to the universe being old (I'm pretty sure I covered that in the Galileo post but I just wanted to remind everyone). So if the universe seems to be 5 billion years old how can it really be..uh...much less than that. (I'm not sure what the agreed upon age of the world is by the traditionalist view, but its less than 5 billion).

Well that's actually pretty easy to answer if you think about it. The Bible is pretty clear that Adam was created as a man. Not a baby, not a child or teen, but a full grown man. So I'm willing to bet he would seem in every sense to be grown up.

Let me put it in another way. God creates a whole bunch of trees at creation. Do you think He created a whole bunch of saplings? Or do you think He created trees at varying stages of the life cycle (so that an entire generation wouldn't die off at the same time)? So if I went up to one of these freshly made but old seeming trees right after God created them, and cut through the trunk to see the tree rings, do you think it would look like there were no tree rings or God would really have made the tree be 20 years old and have the appropriate yearly rings? So if a scientists saw those rings he would swear the tree was 20 years old, when it reality it was literally created 5 seconds ago.

So the universe seeming old doesn't have to be contrary to a seven day Creation. God is smart, and He's certainly smarter than we are. If He wants the universe to seem 5 billion years old than its because we people need it to be that old to survive in it. It's like God fastforwarding through all that pesky other stuff (or skipping right over it) to create a world that's the exact right age we need to survive. I fully believe God is capable of doing something like that.

Now I feel I should note here that some people believe in a more of "seven distinct stages of creation". This sort of merges into the 5 billion year old, evolution universe, but it doesn't have to. I fully believe God is perfectly capable of creating our universe and all the life in it in 7 nanoseconds. How do I rationalize this with the Bible which clearly states days? Well, God is outside of time, so I don't think He would need to feel constrained by a period of time He had not necessarily yet created. He could if He wanted to--I don't doubt that--but I don't think He had to. However, I also think if God had said to Moses (the usual person believed to have written Genesis), "It took be one nanosecond to create all the animals in the world", Moses' mind might have exploded. Sure, God could have explained to Moses and make him understand. Completely possible and within God's power. However, then Moses would have to explain to everyone else and that's just a hassle. God could have been just talking in terms He knew people would understand.....

Thus we segue into a discussion of evolution and the possibility of Creation taking much much longer. However, that is a post for next Tuesday.

Galileo

(Sorry about not posting this yesterday. My mom is coming to stay with me for the weekend starting today and I went into a cleaning frenzy. All thoughts of posting sort of fell out of my mind. But I'm back with the long promised science and religion post!)

Science and religion are often regarded as oil and water: two things that cannot mix. I have friends who are not religious who think believing in God is daft, to say the least. I have friends who have very strong faith who think a lot of science is completely bogus, like scientists are making information up purposefully to undermine Truth. And then there is my little sister and me, who believe in both science and religion. My sister and I are both strong (Baptist *gasp*) Christians. My sister is a Master's (soon to be PhD) student in anthropology and has no problem (faith-wise) TAing a class called "The Origins of Man" or something like that. I'm an aerospace engineering Master's student who has been known to say that the Matrix could be real and if it is please don't tell me.

So I think the most publicized science vs. faith debate is Evolution versus Creationism. Scientists firmly believe that nature, observation, and science point towards evolution. Let me assure my Christian readers that most scientists do not just make stuff up. They believe stuff based on math, observation, and experimentation. They're not stating it to mess with you. If math, observation, and experimentation could prove a seven day Creation, they would not hold back the information from the public. (Why would they? They'd probably win a Nobel Prize). Now let me assure my atheist, scientific type readers that Christians are not a bunch of blathering, head in the sand idiots. Christians believe in God because of personal experience, observation, and experimentation (though we call it "fleecing" or if we're real brave "doubt"). Christians, like any group of people, do come in varying levels of intelligence, but there are actually scientists and engineers among Christians. You can be smart and have faith.

Now that we've all put our prejudice aside and can look each other in the eye without thinking "that person is an idiot or bogus or fake" let's talk about something else: Galileo.

Galileo lived in the late 1500s and early 1600s, so think Elizabethan Era--except in Italy. He was a physicist and astronomer among other things. He was fascinated by the sun, stars, and heavens in general, as many were back then (and still are).

Now by the time Galileo lived, Copernicus had already made the insane statement that the Earth revolved around the Sun. I know, crazy right? Clearly the Sun revolves around the Earth. I mean, just watch it move across the sky. It's obvious. At least, that was very much the thought process of people back then.

Galileo and Kepler were both two dudes who wanted to figure out if this Copernican theory was real. But we're not here to talk about Kepler, who was living in Germany. We're here to talk about Galileo, who was living in Italy--which was very much controlled by the Church.

Now, I feel its very important to note that Galileo was actually a pretty religious guy. He had considered going into the priesthood. And honestly, he probably would have stayed under the Church's radar even with publishing his ideas, if he hadn't been such a religious man. You see, Galileo believed in heliocentrism (fancy word for the Earth revolving around the Sun) and God. And he went to Rome, to try to explain to the Church that one could believe in both heliocentrism and the God of Christianity, to try to convince them that those who like him believe in both were not heretics. Because of his love of the Church and science, he was banned from further defending this to the Church (though he was not banned from working on his science).

You see, heliocentrism and the Bible could not both possible be true, in the mind of the Church 500 years ago. The two things cannot possibly be reconciled. There is no way heliocentrism can be true if you believe the Bible is true. The two things directly conflict. Obviously.

After all:

"The Lord reigns, He is clothed with majesty;
The Lord has clothed and girded Himself with strength;
Indeed, the world is firmly established, it will not be moved."
~Pslam 93:1

"Say among the nations, "The Lord reigns;
Indeed the world is firmly established, it will not be moved;
He will judge the peoples with equity."
~Pslam 96:10

"Tremble before Him, all the earth;
Indeed, the world is firmly established, it will not be moved."
~1 Chronicles 16:30

"Also, the sun rises and the sun sets;
And hastening to its place it rises there again."
~Ecclesiastes 1:5

"He established the earth upon its foundations,
So that it will not totter forever and ever."
~Psalm 104:5

Clearly, the Bible indicates the world is not moving but sitting still in space. In fact, I'm not even sure the Earth should rotate according to these verses.

Now, I'm not here to point out supposed contradictions in the Bible. I do not believe that any of these verses contradict the idea that the Earth revolves around the Sun. I think the writers (and through them God) were trying to make the point that God very carefully placed the Earth. That this Goldilocks zone we are in is special. And that God will not allow anything to move us from this zone. And that we can depend on the Sun. He put it there for us. And as long as He wants us to be here, the Sun will be there.

The point I am trying to make is that today, in the modern world, we all believe in heliocentrism (as far as I know). Christians are not protesting in the streets, not angrily overrunning school board meetings, to protest that heliocentrism is being taught. We believe in heliocrentrism. And we believe the Bible. Yet, the angry feelings and denials people had back then are very similar to the feelings Christians have about Evolution.

So maybe 500 years from now future Christians will laugh at us for disregarding Evolution as true.

In short, as Christians we shouldn't dismiss science out of hand because we think it contradicts. It doesn't always. Sometimes it just involves thinking out of the box. As for my feelings about evolution (and the Matrix), that's a post for another day. For now, I just want you to remember Galileo when your first thought is "Scientists are just making this crap up!" Galileo was a scientist and a believer and he really did believe both (as most of us now do when it comes to heliocentrism).

Faith and Work

The other day one of my friends was told by his research adviser that because of my friend's personal beliefs, he was unfit to be an engineer. My reaction to this news was three-fold.

First off, say what? Aren't we past that now? Isn't America supposed to be beyond religious persecution? If my friend thinks his beliefs don't conflict with his work, who is his research adviser to tell him otherwise?

Second, what the heck does engineering have to do with what I believe? Last I checked engineering and science were not the same thing and let's be honest--what does robotics have to do with evolution? Not much.

Third, why do people still have the ridiculously mistaken belief that science and religion are incompatible? (And I'll also admit that people have this ridiculous belief on both sides of the fence! Religious people think they can't believe in science and science people think they can't believe in religion! Ridiculous! But more on this in Thursday's post!)

I will be the first to admit that there are some beliefs that are incompatible with some job options. If you believe modern medicine is wrong, then you shouldn't be a modern doctor. Firm believers in seven day Creationism probably wouldn't make good evolutionary scientists. I get that. But no one should ever be told they can't do something because of what they believe.

Yes, I wouldn't want to work on anything that conflicts with my beliefs. But if I think something doesn't conflict with my beliefs, who are you to tell me they do?

I think this all comes back to my fundamental belief that no one should ever try to tell me what I should and shouldn't do (outside of the law, of course). That is for me to decide. If I think I can and should be an engineer, then I will be an engineer. If I think I can and should be a doctor, then I'll be a doctor. It is not an outsider's place to tell me otherwise--to tell me my capabilities or supposed place.

Yes, I'm a girl. Yes, I'm a Christian. But that doesn't mean I can't or shouldn't be an aerospace engineer, or so I believe. And that's what matters.

When you don't ask, but God answers

For those of you who have never been grad students at Georgia Tech, you may not know that its a normal state of existence that at least once a month you find yourself crying because you hate your life. Most try to make it home before they let the tears out, but sometimes a grad student finds herself sitting at her desk and about to burst into tears. It happens*.

To me it happened last Friday.

I had pulled an almost all-nighter on Thursday. For those of you who know me well, you know that I go to bed at ten pretty much every night. So staying up to 2 am is a big deal. And I was prepared to stay up all night, if that's what it took to get my homework assignment done. Luckily, I was in bed by like three.

So Friday, I got up at eight, and running on five hours of sleep, I went to my ten o'clock class. I'm still not sure what the professor was talking about, not because it was incredibly hard to understand, but because I was so tired.

After this class, I immediately went to the Flight Hardware Lab to test our Star Tracker. It's ok if that's jibberish. The important point here is that I was supposed to be testing a $25,000 piece of equipment, and it didn't work. IT DIDN'T WORK. If this thing fails, my professor is literally going to kill me. Or destroy my academic career. Pretty much the same thing.

For an hour, I unplugged and replugged. I cajoled and begged. I turned on and off. I did everything I could think of to make my star tracker work, and it just wouldn’t do it.

To top it all off, right at the end of it, my Project Manager came in and said, “Hey, you’re staying to help organize the lab, right?”

I stared at my broken star tracker, turned to look at him, and said “WHAT? You can’t just tell me last minute something’s going to happen and expect it to happen! I have plans this afternoon. I have to do my PROX-1 write-up, and I have to grade the orbital homework, and I have to finish Rocket Propulsion. I do not have time for a last minute ‘help me clean up’ thing.”

Project Manager’s response was “Uh, I sent out the email two days ago.”

Me: “Not to me. No. No. No. It’s not happening.” I then cleaned up the star tracker and left the room. Now, my response to Project Manager was a little snappier than my usual attitude. In my defense, I was running on very little sleep and very frustrated with my star tracker. And he did not send me the email, which we definitely clarified later that day. And he was all like “My bad”.
But at this point in the day, I was very upset. I went back to my desk, trying to figure out if I had time to get lunch, and just wanted to call my bestest friend. However, my bestest friend has a real life now, a real job, and I couldn’t just call in her the middle of the day.**

Suddenly I wanted to burst into tears. I have no friends, I realized. All my friends had graduated and had real jobs, and here I was at school, busting my back to make almost no money, and pretty much living the most miserable existence possible. I wanted to curl up under my desk, and just cry.***

But I told myself I would not cry in the AE building (again) and told myself to go get lunch.

So I left my office with the intention of going to a nearby Tech grill called Juniors. I knew the line would be short and it would be an easy in and out. However, when I was almost there, my walking slowed down and I thought "Huh, I really don't feel like getting Juniors. I feel like Chick-fil-A instead." There was no logical reason for me wanting Chick-fil-A. I knew the lines would be ten times longer and I would probably just get hungry and frustrated--on top of my tears. However, I changed my trajectory and went to the Student Center for some chicken nuggets.

So there I was, standing in the line of the student center, thinking about how much I hated my life and how I had know friends and how I wanted to drop out of grad school right now because it sucks****, when suddenly I heard someone say "MANDY!"

I turned and there stood one of my guy friends, who had been my friend all through undergrad, who no longer went to Tech, and who I hadn't seen in months.

I have never been so happy to see one of my friends before, and I spent the next hour eating lunch with him and realizing, I do have friends.

Then an hour after lunch, one of my local graduated friends called me and said "What are you doing tomorrow night?" To which my response was of course "Whatever you're doing!"

Friday morning was miserable. At noon I wanted to give up and wallow in a friendless world of self pity. But God heard this pitiful cry of my heart. He heard even though I didn't pray about it and saw that I just wanted to roll over and give up. And He answered. Oh boy, did He answer and I heard.

You have friends, He shouted (not whispered). Don't give up. Don't you dare give up. I love you, and this is my plan for you right now.

And that's why I love my God. Because He hears the cry of my heart. He hears my unspoken, unuttered desired, and He gives me what I need to go on.

He loves me, and He won't let me give up.

So don't you give up either. When you're at your most desperate, God will be there. When you want to just lock yourself in your office's bathroom and cry, He is there. When you're life sucks, He's there. He loves you. Don't give up.

*You may think this is only a habit of females but it's not. Especially around quals, midterms, finals, proposals, deadlines, defenses, ok...so that's like almost every day in grad school. But I've seen males break down into tears too.

**Yes, Alisha, I realized I could have because it was a Friday and you work half days, but remember, I was running on very little sleep. I didn’t realize that at the time.

***Honestly, the only thing stopping me was that such a display of emotion might freak out my French fellows who I share an office with. Probably more because they're guys than French. Guys rarely know how to react when a girl cries.

****This wasn't really a serious thought. Nothing short of divine intervention could make me drop out of grad school. I want my Masters degree really really really bad.

I feel famous

My dear blog readers, today something completely unbelievable has happened.

A guest post I wrote is being featured on Stuff Christians Like.

*passes out*

I promise I'm not quite as funny as the blog post. The blog writer, Jon Acuff, did change a few things. He's a little more in touch with pop culture than I am. BUT I would say 95% of the text was written by me.

OMG.

I'VE BEEN FEATURED ON STUFF CHRISTIANS LIKE.

So please go read it. The link is here.

Which means someone thinks I'm funny. Odd. Usually not the adjective people use to describe me. But still VERY EXCITING.

And I do really love handbells. And I am totally the mercenary.

A Departure from Schedule

My apologies! I interrupt your regularly scheduled Engineering Tuesday post with something pressing in my life.

My first/only boyfriend just got engaged.

For those of you who know me personally, be assured that there is nothing in the way of jealousy in this comment. I am very happy for Sean and Christine, and I think they will do very well together. I wish them all the best of luck in their journey together, and I am sure they will manage to be ridiculously happy. I have known Sean for nearly ten years now, and I know he loves Christine and is very happy to be with her. And he's also lucky to have her. She is a fantastic girl!

So - if I'm not jealous, why am I interrupting the schedule to post about this?

Because my first/only boyfriend just got engaged, and I still haven't had a boyfriend number two.

Sean and I dated during Freshman and Sophomore year of college. I then broke up with him. (It was very mutual - but I initiated it, so I get to say I broke up with him). Since then I've been on maybe two events I would call dates, but I have never actually "dated" anyone since Sean. (Those two dates were not with the same guy).

I'm not really looking for a guy. I'm not desperate by any means. It's just weird that Sean is getting married and I'm still single.

When I was young, I never imagined I would get married out of college. That idea did sort of sneak up on me when I was in college but I brushed it aside. I know that if I marry someone it will be on God's time and not mine.

But I've watched several of my good friends get married recently. And it hurts a little.

All these people are moving on in their lives. They're going on an adventure I can't participate in.

They're leaving me behind.

What will I do when all my friends are married? What will it be like when I'm the only one without a significant other? It means I'll only be able to hang out with my female friends on designated "girl's nights" or "Sci-fi nights" (depending on the girl). And forget hanging out with my guy friends alone ever again. Anyone will tell you that's not appropriate. So I had better be friends with their wives if I ever want to see them again.

In this bleak vision of my future, if I want to go to a movie, I'll probably have to go alone. If I do call up my married friend and ask, they'll probably say something like "Oh, I'm going to see that with my husband or kids..."

Good Lord! What will I do when my friends start having kids?

As I said earlier. It's not that I'm desperately seeking a guy or even want one right now. It's just that I don't like getting left behind. I don't like looking at a future where I have to attend movies by myself. Where I spend my birthday alone.

Because believe me, if all my friends get married, I will spend my birthday alone. Who would choose me over their spouse on Valentine's Day?

So on occasions like the engagement of my first/only boyfriend, I think I'm warranted this moment of self-doubt, this moment of looking at a bleak and desolate future where I am alone.

But I know that I have to trust God. And I have to have faith that my friends won't simply dump me when they get married. And I can't let this vision of the future overwhelm and blind me.

If I'm meant to get married, God will bring someone into my life. If not, God will give me the strength to be a single woman in this romantically paired world.

And I guess I'll always have my little sister. Plan B is always the two of us living together like Jane and Cassandra Austen. Old maids, having a grand time in the world together.

And that will be fun, as long as she learns to cook at some point. I'm not cooking for her for the rest of my life.

Why Baptists Don't Dance or Drink

A long time ago in a small American town not that far from your own, there were three churches: a Methodist Church, A Presbyterian Church, and a Catholics Church. The congregations lived in harmony, enjoying community and fellowship without allowing their doctrinal differences to interfere.

They held dances in which all the members would exuberantly praise God. They held dinner parties where people sipped wine, remembering Jesus' miracle with the drink. All was right and good in the town.

Then one day, a Baptist Church opened its doors.

The other three churches had no prejudice against this new member of their Christian fraternity. They invited the new denomination to a prty to welcome them. As usual, the party involved dancing.

The Baptists arrived to the party bearing casseroles and crock pot stews, but the other denominations overlooked the oddity (and carefully did not try the mystery casserole). Then the fiddler began to strike up a tune and the people of God began to dance.

At first, everything seemed normal. Some people danced better than others, but in general all seemed to be going well. Until the three original churches saw their Baptist brethren get on the dance floor.

The Baptists danced exuberantly, meaningfully. They meant to glorify God with their dancing, and it can not be doubted that God saw their good intentions. However, what the Methodists, Presbyterians, and Catholics saw was the most awful dancing ever. Children cried at the sight of the awful performance. Elders ran for cover, trying not to be hit by awkwardly moving limbs or stepped on by ill timed steps. In general, there was weeping and gnashing of teeth by everyone except the Baptists, who thought all was good.

As usual, alcoholic beverages were offered at that party. As the Baptists drank (as little as it may have been), their dancing got worse. The others had not thought it was possible. Some wished they were blind rather than witness the horrible spectacle.

So the next day, after everyone had sufficiently recovered the heads of each church except the Baptist Church met in private.

"That was the most horrible thing I have ever witnessed," the Methodist pastor turned pale as he remembered the spectacle.

"It cannot be allowed to happen again," the Catholic priest agreed. "But I do not know how we can stop it without stopping our own parties. We don't want to make the Baptists feel as if they are not part of our brethren. We don't want them to feel slighted when we don't invite them to our parties."

"Unless we make them think it was their idea," the Presbyterian preacher said. "The Baptist pastor seems a decent fellow and I have a plan." The other two listened in silence as the man explained.

Later that day the three went to the Baptist pastor. They explained what weeping and gnashing of teeth the dancing and drinking had caused among the other denominations and how they did not want to hurt the feelings of the Baptist. Then the Presbyterian preacher explained his idea.

"You should convince your denomination that dancing and drinking are wrong," the Presbyterian said.

"They won't like the drinking idea," the Baptist pastor pointed out.

"Yes, but if they drink they'll dance and we can't handle that," the Catholic priest pleaded.

"And we can Biblically support the no dancing or drinking," the Methodist preacher explained eagerly. "You can talk about the temptation, and how dancing leads to other things, and drinking leads to drunkenness. It's not wrong, just a little more strict."

The Baptist preacher was dubious, but eventually he was made to see the light. The next Sunday and subsequent Sunday's afterward, he preached about the tempations that lay in dancing and drinking. Slowly, the Baptist congregation began to decline invitations to the others dance parties. Or they accepted and brought the food, but did not dance.

The other congregations were filled with relief. No more would there be weeping and gnashing of teeth. All would be right in the world.

So remember, my fellow Baptists out there, there is a reason why the original Baptists forbade us from dancing and drinking. It was imposed upon us, because our dancing was so horrible.

[This idea came upon me after attending several Baptist dances. No one got on the dance floor until after the electric slide was played and I have never seen so many people - including myself - mess up the electric slide. Good times]

Thirst

So I have this problem. A drinking problem, but not the sort of drinking problem you are thinking of. I don't drink alcoholic beverages (this is not a judgment of those who do, just a fact of my life). No, my problem is probably just as troubling but very different.

I forget to drink. Water, tea, kool-aid, coke, you name it, I will forget to drink it. I can carry a Nalgene full of water around with my all day and not take a single sip. I can eat three meals a day and the only one I guarantee I'll drink something at is breakfast when I drink a full glass of milk.

As I'm sure you can imagine this is problematic. Every evening for the past week I've gotten a headache that practically made it impossible for me to function. I went to bed early and hoped that would make it go away. I did not know what the problem was. The headaches kept coming earlier, until on Wednesday I got a headache at 3 pm. By the actual evening I could barely function and I just simply went to bed. I could not figure out why until I talked to my parents and they mentioned "Maybe you are dehydrated".

It hit my like a ton of bricks. I probably drink about one and a half glasses of some sort of liquid a day. That's it. And that's not enough. It's not enough to function. I person needs way more than that.

So Thursday I made myself drink all day. I actually drank half of a nalgene. And yet I still forgot to drink anything at dinner.

Now a person might ask how does this happen? Don't you get thirsty? Don't you crave that liquidy goodness that is the only thing that can quench your thirst?

This is where the problem lies. I don't feel thirsty.

At least, I don't think I feel thirsty. I think the problem really is that I have been so thirsty my entire life that I don't know what it means to not be thirsty. I have ignored that thirst for so long it no longer means anything. It's normal. It's the way I am, all the time. So unless my thirst gets really extreme (which is rarely does and usually involves a lot of salt intake), I don't notice it.

I think my spiritual life is like this sometimes too. I'm living in such a state of thirst, such a state of need, that I don't even know it, because that is the status-quo. It's the way life is and I simply can't feel the need, the thirst. I don't know how to fix the spiritual headaches that come up, the debalitating doubt, because I don't know why its happening. I don't see that they are a symptom of my spiritual dehydration because I don't feel thirsty. I don't know I'm dehydrated.

Sometimes you have to make yourself drink. You don't feel the thirst, you don't feel a need, but you have to make yourself do it anyway. That's my only solution to my physical dehydration and my only solution to my spiritual one. I must make myself read my Bible, spend time with God, go to Bible Studies, and Church. I may not feel like it, because I may not feel thirsty, but I have to do it.

I'm not sure its possible to drink too much water (though too much makes my throat hurt - go figure). It is certainly not possible to have too much God in your life.

So quench your thirst.

Grab a bottle of water and your Bible and start drinking.

Lice and Faith

I have had lice twice in my life.

The first time I was three, and I don’t really remember it. My family was living in Hawaii, and it was common for us little ones playing in the sand to get those itchy little head bugs. I don’t remember much of anything, but my mom had to cut off all of my hair. It was a sad day.

The second time I was in fifth grade. This time I remember vividly. My head had been itching for a while, but I was afraid to tell my mom about it. Whenever I thought of lice, I thought of dirty children playing in the streets. I thought it somehow made me dirty and unclean. I was afraid of the consequences: having to cut off all my hair, using the lice killing shampoo, having to miss school, etc. I kept the itching my head, because I would rather suffer through the pain then deal with it. However, eventually the itching became too much. My scratching picked at my scalp, and my fingernails came away covered in blood. I knew I had to tell my mom, or things would only get worse. I confessed.

My mom, being a teacher, took it in stride. She checked my head, saw the tell tale signs, and immediately began to take action. My sheets went in the wash. My stuffed animals went into bags. All of my hair was chopped off. The bug killing shampoo was scrubbed into my shorn hair. I spent several hours sitting in my mother’s bathroom while she picked nits out of my hair. (That’s where the phrase ‘nit picking’ or ‘nitpicky’ comes from by the way. Nits are very small, and take a long time to get out). It was a long unpleasant experience.

However, a few weeks and several reapplications of the bug killing shampoo later, the stuffed animals came out of their bag and my head no longer itched. I suffered for weeks, but now all was right with the world. I could crawl into my bed with my favorite stuffed animal, and my head was gloriously free from itching. I was far better off free of those nasty bugs then I ever was with them, and the process of removing them turned out to be worth it.

Now over twelve years later, any time I read something about lice or someone says the word “lice”, my head starts to itch. Even now typing this, I scratch my scalp. I fear that I might have lice, though I have been in no situations where I could get lice. My cubicle is lice free. I don’t share hairbrushes, hats, or other hair touching things with strangers. I do share a hairbrush with my sister, so if I had lice she would too (which she doesn’t). However, despite how bad that fear can get sometimes when I hear a news report about lice breaking out in a local school, I never ask anyone to check my head. I’m too afraid.

What if they actually found lice?

The stigma of lice overwhelms me (though it should be noticed that lice like clean hair, not dirty). The idea of being subjected to that horrifying process sends fear through my heart. I can’t afford weeks of nit picking. I don’t want to deal with the consequences. So rather than admit that my head is itching, I suffer in silence, afraid of anyone ever hearing of my lice filled fears.

I have discovered in the past few years that I treat many problems in my faith in a similar way.

As an example I will take something that I feel I’ve struggled with for a while:

I can’t discern God’s voice, His will for me. I can’t feel Him in my life.

This is something I should deal with, preferably with the help of friends. It’s something I should confess to someone and have them help me struggle through it. However, I’m afraid. I’m afraid because people say things like “God pressed this on me the other day” or “I felt God saying this to me”. When people say things like that it makes me feel like they must be super holy and that there is something wrong with me. It makes me feel dirty and lice riddled.

I am afraid to go to my friends or my Bible study and say, “Hey, I really struggle with hearing God’s voice in my life.” I fear they will look at me with judgmental glances and think, “She’s not really a Christian. She’s not as holy as us. She’s so low, so unworthy, so dirty.”

I also fear the process of fixing it. I fear the shampooing, the putting things away in bags, and the nit picking. I don’t want anyone to nitpick my soul. I don’t want anyone to reveal that I actually am dirty and unclean. I don’t want anyone to push back my hair, see the nits, and begin to tear them from my head.

So rather than confess my problems and fears with my faith, I stay silent. I suffer in unsure silence, feeling dirty, unclean, and unworthy. I feel like a worse Christian. Without anyone pointing fingers, I point fingers at myself. Only, by myself I can’t fix it.

I know if I seek help for my problems in my faith, then I will be able to fix them. I know that afterwards I will feel much better. I know that without the lice my head won’t itch, and I will no longer have to worry about scratching myself until I bleed. I know I will be far better off and happier once I admit it.

Instead I sit here and itch.

Maybe I’m alone in this. Maybe I am not worthy and I’m not as good a Christian as the rest of the world; however, I think this is a problem we all struggle with. We’re afraid to admit our real problems, the problems that are causing us to itch until we bleed, because we’re afraid people might look at us and say, “She has lice.”

This year I make a pact with myself to admit when something in my faith does not feel right. I will go to my best friend, my mentor, or my Bible study and I will say, “I think I have lice.”

I believe my friends won’t judge me. I believe I will discover I’m not the only one who struggles with Faith Lice. And I imagine this will occur:

“I think I have lice,” I admit in a low tone to my Bible study.

“Lice? Oh dear, let me check!” one girl exclaims, rushing to my side. She checks my head. “You definitely have it, Bittersweet. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you. We’ll need shampoo…”

“No worries, I have some,” another girl says, digging in her purse. “I struggled with this a few months ago. I know exactly how you are feeling. Don’t worry, Bittersweet. I am with you on this.”

“Where are the plastic bags?” asks a friend from the kitchen, searching through my cabinets. “I’ll bag your favorite stuffed animal for you.”

“I think I might have lice too,” admits another friend, emboldened by my confession. “Can you check me too?”

“We’ll get this put right, Bittersweet,” the girl by my side says with a smile. “We are your friends. We will help you struggle through this. We are here for you, and we love you.”

A Confession: Apathy

My grandfather was riding his bicycle and was hit by a car. He has a broken neck and blood in his brain. It sounds awful, but that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that I don’t care.

Sounds horrible, doesn’t it? I know it’s terrible. I should care. I should feel something other than apathy at the fact that my grandfather is in critical condition. But I don’t. I feel nothing.

Some of you might attribute this to numbness. You’ll say I’m in denial, but give it a few days and I will feel something. But I guarantee you that it won’t happen. If he died today, I would not care. I just don’t care.

My grandfather is not some fuzzy teddy bear who I have fuzzy warm memories of. Nor is he some evil man who filled my life with horrible traumatizing memories. I don’t feel either extreme about him. I feel nothing. I acknowledge the fact that he’s my grandfather, but that’s about it.

You see my grandfather and I never had a close relationship, probably because my father and grandfather don’t. My grandfather isn’t “evil”, but neither is he a very nice guy. He cheats on my grandmother; he always has and everyone knows it. Seriously if you look at their wedding photo you think: “What a lovely bride, but look at that sleezeball she’s marrying.” It’s true. My grandfather just looks sleezy.

He’s also a multi-millionaire and a miser. No one sees a dime of that money, not even my grandmother. We’re lucky if we get anything for our birthdays or Christmas. My grandfather has never even attempted to buy his way into my heart. If he died about the only thing I would think is “I wonder where all that money is going.”

Growing up I only spoke to my father’s parents once a year on my birthday. It was the most dreaded phone call of the year. It was basically like being forced to talk to a complete stranger for fifteen minutes. I did not want to talk to them, and I knew they were only really talking to me to appease my father.

So my grandfather is in serious condition, and I don’t care. But I do care that I don’t care. I feel like I should care more. I mean God calls us to care in that whole love your neighbor thing. But I guess my grandfather falls into that large category of people I just don’t care about. It’s the people I don’t view as my neighbor or my enemy, since we’re called to care for both. I pray for and care about my sister-in-law, even though she is my “enemy”. I pray for and care about the international students at my school, because they’re my “neighbors”. But my grandfather? We’re not enemies. We’re not neighbors. I haven’t spoken to him since my older sister’s wedding, which was four years ago.

There are vast amounts of people I feel completely apathetic about. They’re not in my view. They’re not near me; they don’t hate me. Why should I care about them? But I feel guilty for not caring, because I know I should.

He’s my grandfather. I should be making efforts to love him. I should be putting him in my definition of neighbor. I should care that he’s injured. But I don’t. Like hundreds of other people.

My friends will say things like they have such a heart for the city of Atlanta, that they feel for the people, and feel called to love them. I on the other hand feel no such compulsion. I don’t feel for the entire city of Atlanta. I feel for small pockets I view as my neighbors and enemies. I don’t feel for the city as a whole. I don’t care about the city as a whole.

People in Indiana? I just don’t care.

People in Portugal? I barely know you exist.

People in the neighborhood down the street from mine? You don’t fall into my definition.

Kid who sits in the back of my class? I never even look back there. I have no clue who you are.

It’s as if my heart has limited area, so I define my definition so small that I don’t have to care about people. Caring is difficult. Loving? Impossible. How am I supposed to love all these people?

I suppose I don’t really think that God wants me to love and pray for the people of Portugal. Nothing against you Portugal. I just don’t know anything about you. I wouldn’t know where to begin. However, I feel guilty about my grandfather, because I’m pretty sure he falls into God’s definition of my neighbor or possibly the whole honoring your parents thing.

God has to care that I divide the world up into my black and white “neighbors and enemies” and anyone who doesn’t fall into that definition, anyone gray, I just don’t care about.

I know this is something wrong with me; I know this is something I struggle with. I even struggle praying about it. And if I don’t pray about it, how can God help me with it? But if I don’t pray about it, I’m ignoring the problem. And I’m really good about ignoring the problem.

Maybe praying for my heart to break over the world is too much right now. I think I’ll start small. I think I’m going to pray that God would help me to love my grandfather. I’m going to pray that God will help me care. Because my grandfather needs prayer. I know that. I am 99.9% sure that if he were to die today because of his injuries that he would not go to heaven. I should care about that.

God help me to care!

"But the flocks!"

I have mentioned previously that I'm reading Ben-Hur. It had been slow going, but on the airplane during my trip I managed to read a ton.

The first part of Ben-Hur is about the birth of Jesus. It mainly follows the wise men on their journey, but in one chapter it deals with the shepherds who were watching their flocks. The shepherds see the angles and here is their reaction:

"'There is but one place in Bethlehem where there are mangers; but one, and that is in the cave near the old khan. Brethren, let us go see this thing which has come to pass. The priests and doctors have been a long time looking for the Christ. Now he is born, and the Lord has given us a sign by which to know him. Let us go up and worship him.'

'But the flocks!'

'The Lord will take care of them. Let us make haste.'"

This passage struck me as soon as I read it. These shepherds had just seen a multitude of angels proclaim the birth of Jesus. One of them is like "Hey, let's go" and in response one of them says, "And just leave the sheep?" At first I thought this dutiful shepherd absurd. Really? Jesus is born and you're concerned about sheep? God is made flesh and you don't immediately go running to him?

Then I was struck by how many times I do this.

God will call me to do something and I will say, "But my work, God! I can't just leave it. I'll go later, when the work is done." Could you imagine if the shepherds had done that?

"Jesus is born? Oh, well, someone has to watch the sheep. Sorry, angelic messenger. We'll go see the Christ when the sheep are taken care of."

The very idea of such a response is ridiculous, but it is the response I give every day. Every time God asks me to do anything I point to my work and say I can't. If I had been a shepherd I would have waited until someone else could take care of the sheep. If I had been Peter or Andrew, I would only have followed Jesus after my fishing was done.

Notice neither of the stories work that way. No disciple said, "After I take care of the fish, my lord."

Jesus even tells that one guy he can't follow him because the guy says, "I'll come back after I bury my father."

This has led me to a thought.

Maybe I'm not supposed to be so dutiful to my wordly life. Maybe God wants me to sometimes throw the sheep, fish, and other responsibilities to the wind and just follow Him.

Maybe God wants me to take risks.

It's a scary thought. I'm not much of a risk taker. I'm Martha, busily setting things up and preparing dinner. But Jesus did not praise Martha. He praised Mary.

I struggle with this thought, with this idea. How do I become Mary, sitting at the feet of Jesus? How do I set aside the responsibilities and fears that have been engrained inside of me and just follow?

I don't know the answer. If you do, please share it with me. For now I can only hope that if I see a burning bush or a multitude of angels, I won't be the one says, "But the flocks!"

A Wrinkle in Time

A Wrinkle in Time has been one of my favorite books, since the 4th grade, if not before. My mother read it aloud to me when I was much younger, for it is one of her favorite books as well. I have read the book at least once every year since the 4th grade, and I own three copies of it: my mom's original paperback copy, my older sister's paperback copy, and my own hardback copy. Ender's Game is also one of my favorite books, but it will never be able to take A Wrinkle in Time's place in my heart for one very good reason. I am Meg Murray.

I don't mean that literally. I was not even alive when Madeleine L'Engle wrote her book, so I could not have been the inspiration. However, when I read A Wrinkle in Time I find that Meg Murray and I are ridiculously similar. Every time I read it I find different ways that I am like Madeleine L'Engle's protagonist.

In middle school I felt a connection with Meg because we were both awkward, not pretty girls with glasses and braces. I felt like the outcast she was. Granted, I never got into fights with boys or was called to the principal's office for being smart mouthed in class, but I could relate to her feeling of not belonging. Meg looked at her mother and saw someone beautiful, successful, and brilliant and wondered how she could be the offspring of such a woman. I looked at my older sister, who was popular, had a string of beaus, and was a girly-girl and wondered how we could possibly be related. I felt like I did not belong in the same room as her, not to mention the same family.

Now that I'm older, not so awkward, ridiculously beautiful (at least - in God's eyes), feel comfortable with glasses, and lost my braces, this connection is not quite the same it had once been. I still feel the outcast sometimes, but now when I read A Wrinkle in Time I feel a different connection.

At work today I was listening to A Wrinkle in Time on my iPod to combat the silence. It's great to listen to because I've read it so many times that I don't have to listen. It's just background noise but then when I need a distraction and hear the phrase "Really Mrs. Which you might have killed us", I know exactly what's going on (Mrs. Which tried to tesser them onto the 2D planet, forgetting that the children are well...3D). It's really quite pleasant.

As I was half listening and trying to get my work done, I was reminded of another way Meg and I are similar. We want everyone else to solve our problems for us. If you are not familiar with the story you may have a hard time understanding, so let me explain. Meg Murray is a middle school girl who is swept away on an adventure with her little brother, Charles Wallace, and a friend, Calvin O'Keefe, to save Meg's father who was been missing for over a year. The people who swept her away on this adventure are Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which. They are not quite people, more like angels, and they take the children on an adventure into space.

Meg expects these three somewhat heavenly beings to solve her problems for her. She expects them to take her to her father and save everything. She expects them to set her life right. So when the three ladies drop her and her friends off on a strange planet, where they say her father is, she is quite distressed that they weren't going to solve all of her problems for her. However, she still has Calvin and her genius little brother. She expects they will be able to find her father and set everything right.

However, they aren't able to. Charles Wallace, in a sincere but arrogant move, gets essentially possessed by the enemy. Meg is left only with Calvin, who she pleads with to save Charles Wallace. Calvin, however, is unable to reach Charles Wallace because he doesn't know the little boy that well. Calvin and Meg do manage to get to Meg's father, and Meg expects her father to be able to sweep in and save Charles Wallace. However, last time Mr. Murray was home Charles Wallace wasn't even talking yet. The man doesn't know his son well enough to save him. Calvin and Meg escape the planet with her father, but at the cost of her precious little brother.

Meg is furious. The three heavenly beings weren't able to save Charles Wallace. Calvin wasn't able to save Charles Wallace. Even her father, her dear father who she had been pining after since he disappeared, was not able to save Charles Wallace. Meg was expecting everyone else to save him, and no one else could. This is when she realizes that only she can save Charles Wallace. Knowing its her dear baby brother's only chance, Meg goes back to the enemy planet alone - without Calvin, without her father, without the three ladies. Alone, she must save Charles Wallace or get taken in by the evil herself.

I expect everyone else to solve my problems for me. Meg and I are the same in this respect. I get frustrated when my parents can't give me the advice I need on my career path, because they don't know. I don't want to take risks and try to do it myself; I want them to tell me what to do. I want to give all my problems to God and let Him magically fix them, refusing to even contemplate that God gave me a brain to think with. Yes, He wants me to bring my problems to Him, but I don't think He wants me to treat Him like magic. God wants to give me peace and assurance, not solve my problems for me.

But I want Him to make my life easy, though He never promises that His path is easy.

I want someone to solve the problem for me, but then I realize that God made me to solve the problem, just like Madeleine L'Engle made Meg the only one who can save Charles Wallace.

I must save Charles Wallace. God wants to help me walk down the road in Camazotz. He might even direct me to go to IT instead of stopping at CENTRAL Central Intelligence. He will stand by as I face the evil IT, but He will not let me sit in the caring arms of Aunt Beast and magically bring Charles Wallace to me.

My problems are my problems. Others can help me. God can be there for me, and He is perfectly capable of divine intervention should He wish. But most of the time, He wants me to solve my problems. He wants me to stop expecting everyone else to fix it for me.

Meg alone can save Charles Wallace, and I alone can make the decisions that fix my problems.

The Great Flood

I had a strange dream the other night. In this dream, the world was flooding. The entire world. The waters were rising, and we were desperate to find a way to stop it.

I don't remember the particulars of what happened exactly; the dream has faded away. I do, however, remember the feeling of despair and hopelessness that overcame us when we realized we could not stop it. Nothing we mere humans could do was going to stop these waters from rising up and drowning us all. We could not escape high enough. We could not travel far enough. The waters were coming, and we were all going to die.

We did not die because I snapped myself out of it. I did not exactly wake up, but I pulled myself into the half awake half asleep state. I was still terrified. Part of me was convinced I was going to die. I was going to drown in these flood waters that I could not escape. Then in my half asleep half awake state I reminded myself of something,

"God promised He's not going to flood the entire world again. That's what the rainbow means."

As childish as that may sound, I repeated that to myself over and over again until I fell into a dreamless sleep. God's promise calmed me. I knew God would never break His promise, so in His promise I could rest and sleep well.

(Here is where I segue into something deeply spiritual, right? Or maybe I'm just going to start talking about skate boarding monkeys....No you're right. We're going to talk about God.)

God never breaks His promises. Ever. The world has never completely flooded again like it did during Noah's time. I can overcome a basic and primitive fear of drowning by a world sized flood by reminding myself that its not going to happen. God won't let it. Maybe where I live might flood, but the entire world? Not a chance.

This world flooding promise God made is one I learned probably in Sunday School when I was two. We probably colored pictures of Noah's ark and drew rainbows. It is a promise that has been ingrained in me since before I knew what God's promises meant. I never have to fear a world flood, because I know God promises He won't let it happen.

I wish I was just as familiar with God's other promises.

I wish all of God's promises were engraved on my heart because I had studied them so many times. I wish that when I woke up in the middle of the night from some other scary dream I could pull one of God's promises out of my repertoire to remind myself that God will never let it happen. But I can't. I don't know all of God's promises. My Bible literacy is very low on the grand scale of things. Do I know all the stories? Yes. Could I probably describe the whole new testament to you? Yes. Have I ever just sat down and read the entire thing? Well....the answer is probably no. And forget the Old Testament. Read the entire Old Testament? Are you crazy? Have you ever tried to read Numbers? Good luck.

The fact that I "know" all the stories is a stumbling block to actually reading them. The boring counts in Numbers and the laws laid out in Leviticus cause me to close my Bible and pull out a more "exciting" book. But what can be more exciting than reading God's word? Than seeing His promises to His people and to all of Mankind? Why can't I make myself read the Bible when I can make myself read the Hunchback of Notre Dame (I don't recommend that one by the way. Talk about a bitter ending. No sweetness at all).

I always start out convinced that this time I will read all four gospels in one month, but then I realize how busy I am. And though I'm never too busy to read Brandon Sanderson's new book, I am just too busy to read the Bible.

I wish I knew the answer. I wish I knew how to overcome my lack of Bible knowledge. Part of me wants to go to seminary and take Bible classes so that they have to make me read it, just like my professors make me read every aerospace book written by John Anderson. But I want to want to read it. I want to be filled with a burning passion that mere human boredom can not overcome.

Maybe that starts with making myself do it. Maybe if I set aside time each day just to read it - like I did for Hunchback of Notre Dame - eventually I'll find myself engrossed in it. Maybe.

It never hurts to try, and maybe I have just never tried hard enough.

Maybe this time I'll focus on God's promises, and maybe this time I'll make it through Numbers.