I feel like a bible-study Snob...

I went to a bible study Tuesday night and felt like I was in fifth-grade Sunday school. We were talking about prayer, working through a booklet that had chosen cartoons, captions and verses to help aid the discussion. Psalm 62:8 “Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.” What “key’s” to prayer can you find within this verse? The leader tried to pull answers out of us. I knew what he wanted to hear, that we should trust God at all times, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. It was so painfully simple and dumbed-down, so I sat in annoyed silence. We moved on to Philippians 4:6-7, where we learned that we should not be anxious about anything, but give God our worries. I’m not sure how took us ten minutes to discover this “prayer key,” maybe because I wasn’t helping. Snobby, I know. Trust me, I felt terrible later that night, who am I to say where or how Gods truths can be shown? Sometimes simplicity holds the most truth. Our deep conversations and thoughts may only lead us into more confusion and complication, potentially steering us farther from what God is trying to teach; yet Tuesday night I sat in silence. Maybe it is because of the way I have been experiencing God since I have been here. It has been so radically different, unable to put into a form or drawn out by a question. It has been much more abstract, yet more present than ever. I have discovered that I no longer find time to think/pray/study God, but without realizing it, I am constantly. Maybe it is because my days are less busy, mind less full and I’m living within an adventure, but God has seemed to flow into the spaces I have opened up and flooded my soul.

After experiencing God so abstractly and without form for the last two months. Friends here, and I have discussed how there has been no place we have walked into a room with Christian music playing and “entered into worship,” but instead, worship has seemed to effortlessly flow out of us as we stand humbled by nature, giving us a genuinely divine experience.

I honestly do feel terrible about my attitude Tuesday night. Each person I was with was wonderful and honestly did reveal to me Christ, just not in the ways they thought. I saw God in the way she was earnestly seeking, within the stories he told that focused and enjoyed every detail of life, among his lighthearted energy and the way they so openly brought me into their group. I just have a complex: I don’t know if I am a snob, needing to be humbled and an attitude adjustment, or if that place wasn’t really for me right now. God, what are your thoughts?

Legolas Sighting

Last weekend we ventured down south to the Routeburn Track, a famous three-day hike through rouged mountains and jaw dropping scenery. The trail is also know as being located in “Lord of the Rings Country” and there were various cliffs that we expected to see Legolas and Aragorn come riding boldly over the horizon. Strangely enough we never did (so I guess my title is a lie), but we did a little reenactment of an epic battle scene. Our three day-two night tramp was amazing and very soggy. It rained the entire time, but there was something about the rain that felt authentic. Mountains are not made for sunshiny paths and whistling tourist, but are wild. They trap clouds around their tips, swirl wind through rocky ridges and change harmless drops into frigid flakes. Hidden within their wild weather and untamed landscape is beauty only able to be experienced by humbling entering at the mercy of the mountain. Pictures are unable to capture what is seen through the drops but it only leaves the sights more of a treasure for those who venture inside.

Scribbles

Age five, Crayola’s in clenched fist, I discovered how to maneuver the waxy blue-greens and magentas. Carefully I would ensure each color remained within the thick outlines of Cinderella’s slipper or Pooh bear’s honey pot. It wasn’t long before I had moved from simple coloring to tracing, tracing to coping and finally, the training wheels were removed. I was given the Crayola multi-set; the kind with the fold-down top and more colors than a five year old knew existed. I was turned loose with blank page before me, inviting me to create.

I don’t know if my five-year-old hand drew scribbles, stick figures or sunsets, but I know my mom let each picture proudly hang on the refrigerator, treasuring my scribbles more than cookie-cutter colorings. As I have aged, I have fallen back to coloring between the lines. I have spent the last three years of college drawing lines for myself-scheduling. Clubs, teams, school, sorority, church, friends, even God, were arranged neatly into my week with each activity in its own color-coded section. As long as I stayed within the solid black lines of my busy schedule, my life seemed to create an aesthetic image.

I have since left that image behind, bringing with me snapshots and memories. A friend asked me how life is different in New Zealand, “less stress and more adventure” I have discovered. We both determined that this is the way life is supposed to be, yet there are so many more activities, bible studies, lunch dates, relationships, clubs, teams, service projects and homework that I left behind when I crossed the ocean. Now I have no commitments, busy schedules are replaced with choice. Old habits tell me to draw myself lines again, but a color-by number life no longer appeals. I realize have been given the opportunity to be five again, Crayola’s by my side and New Zealand as a blank page before me. I am unsure of what lines to draw, or how to funnel my passions into purpose. The vastness of the empty page and fact that crayon can’t be erased means I'll need to give myself room to make mistakes. My drawings may look no better than my five-year-old scribbles, but I hope they will be received with just as much grace.

stunning sunrises, soaking sleepingbags and St.Patty's surfing

All you need is a destination and the details will work themselves out. And that is how our adventure began. We headed for Queenstown, two cars full of four boys, five girls, three loaves of bread, one bottle of peanut butter and a large bag of oatmeal. Off to a late start, we decided to camp by a lake that was between Christchurch and Queenstown. The sun had set hours ago, and we drove along the lake, pulling over and by means of a headlamp, attempted to scout out a flat, grassy area in which we could camp. At 1:30am, the wind began to pick up and we were ready for bed. We saw a large hut off the side of road, Erik ran out and the large living room area was unlocked, we decided to camp out and see what happened in the morning.

The morning came quickly as we found half a dozen adults fixing breakfast for the fifty high school girls sleeping in a smaller cabin, who had come to the lodge for a biology field trip. The sun began to rise, we looked outside and realized we had driven to the base of Mt. Cook National Park, home to New Zealand’s tallest and most stunning peaks that were embraced by passionate crimson as the sun began to crawl up their snowy peaks.

We left the lodge, continually impressed by the friendly and generous nature of all the people we have met in New Zealand. We found a picnic table, ate oatmeal, then hiked across swinging bridges, alongside glaciers, feelings as small as pebbles beneath the awesome peaks constantly spilling waterfall into the icy river below.

(This story is a prime example of life down here, if you just going with the flow, a million crazy things are bound to happen...)

After our hike, we continued on to Queenstown, the “Adventure Capital of the World” where you can get your adrenaline rush over a dozen ways (bungy, skydive, canyoning, river-surfing, whitewater rafting, the worlds largest swing, etc..) The stunning city is placed alongside a lake at the foot of mountains.

Our first night in Queens- town, the worst night of camping of my entire life. Huge wind and rain storm that lifted the side of the tent off the ground and soaked us all. I moved into the car, were I heard the rain pounding on the roof and was just waiting for the girls in the tent to surrender. They never did, but if you were keeping score; wind and rain-one point, five girls (with wet sleepingbags and two hours of sleep)-zero.

Our St. Patrick’s Day looked up quickly. Our adventure of choice was River Surfing, a "pro-active" adventure invented in New Zealand. It involves a wet suit, buggy board and two guides that led us down beautiful river, barral- rolling of the tops of waves, taught us to surf a standing wave, beneth the worlds first bungy jump, alongside film sites from Lord of the Rings and through Class 3 and 4 rapids. It was a BLAST!

St. Patrick’s Day continued as we dressed in costumes, went out to dinner, then dancing in the town. We ended up getting invited to a Brazilian birthday party, free cake, drinks and even some dance lessons! The city was alive and dancing! It was another random night, with unexpected new Brazilian friends, and lots of new memories!

We surrendered to the weather and forked out the funds to stay inside for the night, we stayed at the backpackers part of a beautiful lodge, meaning we paid little, but got to use the Lodge spa, deck that looked out over the city, sleep in sheets, flush toilet, warm shower and, best of all, hot delicious breakfast in the morning.

(we then headed back on Sunday to Christchurch and, surprise, surprise, I have been sick all week. I guess my sleepless nights and jammed-packed weekends have caught up to me...)

Chocolate Worms,Tall Bridges and Pancake Rocks

Weekend of March 9^th, 10^th and 11^th.

Hokitika, along the West Coast, was the destination (details unknown). We got dominated by gigantic wave that would carry you on their powerful backs, then scrape you along its rocky floor. As we recovered, we watched the sun set, shattering the water into a brilliant pallet of color and I saw my first dolphin jumping beneath the falling sky.

Hakatika, sound familiar? There is a famous Wild Foods Festival, (as seen on the Food Channel) were the worst and best of wild foods are devoured- and often spit back up… we ate breakfast on the beach, ate some bugs (worm chocolates) and napped on the sand. Then a Kiwi friend took Jenna and myself to the Hokitika River Gorge, were went bridge jumping (13meter high and scared the begeeses out of me) but was an awesome adventure and a fear conquering quest.

We then camped along the beach, went hiking through jungle beneath the limestone cliffs, ate peanutbutter and jelly on the beach and saw the famous “pancake rocks.”



It is incredible how different the scenery is in New Zealand. All these pictures are taken within twenty miles of each other. New Zealand has a little bit of everything beautiful. It a gorgeous beach, divided by enormous mountains, lush forests, turquoise lakes and crystal rivers.

and I stand in awe...

Aurthur's Pass 4 day trek during the first weekend. 44 km climbing over mountains, across rivers, through forests and fields. Enjoying most beautiful scenery in the world.

learing to glide

My first few weeks in New Zealand were jam-packed with crazy adventure. I was sprinting from one side of the country, to the next. As the memory making marathon continued, I began to lose steam. When I finally took time to breath, I realized just how exhausted I was. Two ideas began to come together. The first was "listen!" when my body was worn out, eyes hardly staying awake-that is not code for keep pushing, its code for rest. When my soul is weary, that doesn't mean watch a movie, it means read the Word, worship and refuel. Listen to myself, listen to others, listen. As I began to listen, I began to hear.
The second idea was an analogy from a talk I heard by Joe Springer. It was the idea of taking time to glide between swim strokes, instead of franticly moving your arms as fast as possible, and how the time between strokes actually sends the swimmer further, faster and allows them to go for longer. This same idea of "gliding" can be used in my life. The idea of taking a moment, a minute or an hour to pause. Taking time to rest, pray and reflect. Pausing is something I have began to include in my life and it has began to transform bits and pieces of my time here. Everywhere I look, I am in awe and amazed by the beauty of a bold mountain, turquoise gorge, thick forest. I have also began to be amazed by the beauty in people, the way my flatmate bought a tablecloth and flowers for our front table, or another cleaned up my milk that spilled all over the floor, two Canadians who drove an hour out of their way to take us to our car, the way someone authentically pursues someone of another culture, encouraging words, invitations, risks in conversation and laughter. I feel like my life is no longer just a series of events, but has become a seasons of celebration.