Losing focus of Purpose vs. Losing focus of Task

       

I spent the weekend thinking about purpose vs. task. You see, I realized Sunday night that I had lost my focus. But did I lose my focus on a task or my purpose? What happens when the two get blurred? These two things can present themselves the same way, yet be miles apart. And that difference can be a matter of hopefulness or hopelessness; living abundantly and losing things most dear to you.

Kind Solomon had a task and a purpose. At various times in his life, he lost site of both. I’d argue that Solomon had a purpose to love God and make His name known; his task: to rebuild the temple. The umbrella for which Solomon’s life fell under was to fulfill God’s will. And it is the under this umbrella that all tasks come under.

At times, Solomon lost focus. His task was confused for his purpose and once the task was completed, he wasn’t sure what else to do. After he built the temple (his task), sometimes I get the picture that he reclined in his lazy boy chair, threw his feet up on his Ikea desk and twiddled his thumbs in boredom, asking “What to do now?” Maybe, just maybe, for a minute he lost his focus on his purpose. And soon, all the riches and pleasures of life and the women, oh the women, eventually turned his heart after other gods. In fact, this is made him different from his father, kind David, whose heart remained devoted to the LORD right up until his death. This could be a case where task was mistaken for purpose. Remembering to Love God and make Him known (his purpose) may have led to him getting out of his lazy boy chair, getting down on his knees and lifting his hands up to the heavens asking the LORD, “What now shall YOU have me do?”

I spent the weekend thinking about purpose vs. task. I felt that over the course of 4 days, I had majorly lost focus…on a specific task that has been put before me. I had allowed certain wants and desires to shadow that task. And at the end of the day, I realized that regaining focus was a matter of remembering my purpose: To love God and make Him known. And it was at that point that I stopped twiddling my thumbs and asked the LORD, “What now shall YOU have me do?”

Dusk is Divine.

A long walk can usually relieve tension. I had a lot on my mind today and decided to take a walk in a beautiful garden in the cool of the day.

I spilled my heart out to God. I'm just so glad He can take it.

I used to walk in a certain park in Columbus often while I was in high school. It was a place I knew was safe; where I could walk freely, pray honestly, and leave my cares behind. It's a place I can go to try and solve the worlds problems (as if THAT were possible). It is good to know that some things never change.

Do you have a lot on your mind? Are you carrying around burdens that seem unbearable? Try heading to your local community park and/or garden and talking with God about what is going on. If you don't hear anything the first time, try it again. Find a safe place where you can walk freely, pray honestly and leave your cares behind.

Blessings, Janara

The Language of My Generation

In history, languages are created and left behind. Which ones to we hold onto in order to preserve them and their meaning? Which ones do we let go or forget in order to make room for new ones?

I wonder.



ipod, iphone, ipad, icloud (whatever that is), twitter, facebook, email, gmail, ymail, fumail (ok, I made that last one up)...the list goes on and on.

Generally, this is the language of my generation.

I once needed to share a very important big of information with my family and decided to email them all. What's the big deal? Apparently that was NOT ok with my adult family members who felt I should have picked up the phone and called every one of them to share the information. I thought "are you kidding me? Who the heck talks on the phone anymore?". I certainly do not prefer to talk on the phone unless I really, REALLY have to do so. And even when I really, REALLY have to, I prefer not to.

But I'm beginning to get a bit worried.

After spending the last 6 years working with children in various capacities (most recently, with the middle school youth group at Vineyard Columbus), I'm beginning to worry about how the next generation is communicating.

Don't get me wrong, I speak the language of iphone, email, blogs, and facebook (haven't ventured to twitter quite yet), but I am also able to hold a conversation, communicating freely in person. I actually prefer spending time with people over all the above mentioned.

My concern for the next generation lies in the fact that they are falling away from that ability to clearly communicate outside of the above mentioned.

Example: I am friends with a middle schooler on facebook who often expresses copious amounts of emotions and feelings via facebook status update. I don't have a problem with that. But when I see this middle schooler in person (or any other middle schooler in general) on any given Saturday or Sunday, they don't seem to have the ability to clearly communicate their feelings face to face or hold a conversation (at their own cognitive level). That is a HUGE problem.

It is easier to hide behind a computer screen or smart phone. It is easy to create a false sense of deep intimacy that way as well.

I try to keep up, but at times I cannot keep up with the information super highway. I'll be the one going 55mph in the slow lane as the next generation speeds up along side of me with their middle finger protruding from the passenger side window.

Caught up in the Rapture

If you are into music, you'd recognize those lyrics. However, I don't believe Anita Baker was talking about the biblical concept of "Rapture" when she came out with "Rapture" in the 80's. Great song though.

Joking aside, I've been tossing around this whole Harold Camping, end-of-the-world biz for the last couple months. Whenever I looked at the calendar for the month of May, I always joked with friends about being ruptured on May 21st. I wasn't the only one to joke around about it. In fact, almost all of my friends on facebook decided to participate in the joking, regardless of whether they were Christian or not. I'll admit, some of you had some pretty funny one-liners about it all, no doubt.

As May 21st came and went, I also did my fair share of reflection and investigation. The facts: I am a believer and follower of Jesus Christ. I believe the bible to be truth. I believe Christ will return....someday. I believe the Bible is very clear about no one knowing the day or the time of the world ending.

It is pretty simple.

Since nobody knows the day or the time when the world will end, it could end anytime. Am I supposed to sit around and just wait for it to happen? Am I supposed to twiddle my thumbs? Am I supposed to "scare" people about the end of the world?

Simply put: No.

There are many things I don't fully understand. But from a biblical standpoint, when it comes to Harold Camping and other Doomsday predictions, I rest in Matthew 24:11-14, which states:

¹¹ and many false prophets will appear and deceive many people. ¹² Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, ¹³ but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved. ¹⁴ And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.

It is pretty simple.

As a follower of Jesus, I was created in the image of God. And because of God's grace, I am to be a resemblance of Christ while I'm alive. So until Christ returns, I am going to continue to do all I can do share the gospel, feed the poor, care for the widow, immigrant and orphan. I will love God and love others as myself.

Nothing too complicated about that.

What do you believe? Although the end of the world didn't come on May 21st, what do you believe about such a concept and why? Even though I completely disagree with Harold Camping and all other Doomsday groups, I think such people and predictions do get people thinking about spiritual things--even if it is all one big joke.


Be well,

Janara

The Death of Public Enemy #1

Turn on your t.v. The families of 47,000 dead soliders and an entire U.S. Nation have been waiting to hear the announcement that Osama Bin Laden is dead.

That moment has come.

Facebook is off the hook right now. People cheering, speculating, rejoicing...


I can only imagine the furry stirring in the hearts of those who followed Osama. So tonight, my prayer is for those who may come in contact with the furry...including all of America.

[If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.]


I think NOW is as good of time as any, in light of Bin Laden's death, to start praying and if you've been praying, to KEEP praying.

God have mercy on our Nation.

Donald Miller Contest: I took a Stroll

The clock rang; I heard 5 chimes of the bell. It's was 5pm and downtown was bustling with gaiety over Red, White and Boom. I had just woken up from a nap. Laying there, I rubbed my eyes, sighed and debated whether or not I wanted to join the hoopla known as the greatest fireworks display in the Midwest. Normally, I'd avoid it at all cost unless there was a well plotted out game plan--I'm talking strategic itinerary, for the festivities. The heat, the traffic, the overwhelming crowds—I could get a birds eye view on the local news channel! However on this occasion, the conditions were perfect: 75 degrees, little humidity, partly cloudy, house sitting for my friends who lived three blocks from downtown...



I packed my life bag (I must now take this time to inform the reader that my life bag is nothing shy of a large purse. I carry it around with me almost everywhere and fill it with my "life" which consists of: my bible, my journal, a most current reading book, cellular phone, Ipod w/ghetto blaster headphones, pens, money, ID, lip gloss and tums), curled my hair, put a dash of perfume on my pressure points, and slipped into my nicest summer dress and flip flops. As I closed the door behind me, I stood on the front porch and listened; I watched where the masses were heading. I could hear music and decided to follow it to see where I ended up.


My walk to High St. was pleasant. I passed newly renovated condos, duplexes and souped up town homes; gentrification at it's finest. As I made my way to the Short North, murals seemed to dance on walls, mom and pop art and coffee shops do-wopped on every street corner. Then there were the people: the occasional family and Mennonite church group would wonder around—they were the ones with a permanent smile plastered on their faces, wondering aimlessly back and forth; content to do so.


I decided to make my first stop at Jeni's Ice Cream. This little treasure of an ice cream shop wasn't as crowded as it normally was, so I decided to swing by for a Salted Caramel and Belgium Chocolate ice cream cone. The young man who waited on me was jovial; it was as if the spirit of the 4th infected everyone from the greatest to the least—from those who got the day off to those who had to work all day and night long. His smile and spirit was infectious and I joyfully walked away with my ice cream cone in search of a place to sit and enjoy my sugary goodness. To my delight, not more than a block away I spotted a pleasant bench surrounded a bushel of radiant flowers.


Delighting in my ice cream cone, I marveled at the sundry of people that passed me by. I saw a cute couple walk by—they seemed to soak in the very presence of the other like a sponge soaks up water. Their faces shared a story of thankfulness to simply just be together, walking hand and hand. I'd get the occasional "hello" from those casually strolling in no particular hurry—probably the Mennonites. A man stopped and parked his bicycle in front of me. He was an older gentleman; he wore a very colorful coutoure-like dress shirt that was blinding, jean shorts that went down to his calves and dress shoes. Although it wasn't overtly sunny, he had to keep it fresh and sport sunglasses. After he was finished with what I eves-droppingly heard as a pointless cell phone conversation, he decided to include me in his day. He told me all about how large his kitchen was; how he had to get home and prepare 15 racks of ribs. He went into great detail about all the herbs and spices he jam-packed into each rack. My mouth watered. Blessing me as he returned to his parked bike, I bid John goodbye and safe travels as he took off, returning the magical kitchen of racked ribs.


Content, I continued to enjoy my ice cream cone, making sure to catch every drip warmed by the sun. I was soon joined by another man. His rustic, frazzled appearance gave the impression he was homeless. Although he carried a cell phone and had better tennis shoes on than I did, he decided to sit on the bench next to mine and shamelessly begged every person that walked by for some spare change. He looked over at me...



"Hi sweetheart"

"Hi sir. How are you today?"

"[with a deep, weighted sigh] Oh, I'm ok..."

"Why just ok?"

"Times are rough...I don't have job—I lost it two months ago. I don't have hardly any money. I hate not having money in my pocket!"

"You too?? I hear ya, sir! But you know what? I don't have much myself, but today is a beautiful day, so I decided to put on my nicest summer dress and just enjoy walking around. It would be great if you sat with me for a bit before you went on your way."


We shot the breeze for a bit. He went into minimal detail about losing his job at the steel mill. He couldn't pay his bills and was shocked that people weren't giving him any money that day. And he was right. I watched him as he'd break conversation with me to ask a hard working passer-byer for spare change. He'd desperately attempt to make eye contact before he gave his line: "How you doin brotha? Can you spare me some change"—the person hardly had a chance to actually answer his question because he was so desperate to hear them say they'd give him money.


I then shared with him that I worked at Vineyard Community Center, with a program called Ohio Benefits Bank that helped people easily apply for a sundry of public benefits. I proceeded to list every homeless shelter I could remember from my previous work as a social worker that flooded my mind, as well as food pantries. Selfishly, I hoped he would take the resources I gave him and continue on his way. But he didn't. He continued to sit and beg. As I watched him, I felt that there was maybe one more thing I could offer him. Sheepishly, I asked him if I could pray for him. To my surprise, he accepted. Almost instantly, he reached out for my hand. It was rough and callous, worn by the years. As I took his large hand in mine, I asked Jesus to provide every physical and spiritual need in his life. Amen.


Rob continued to sit there on the bench after I had gotten up. While he spoke with a man who asked him where he could find drugs, I fished around in my life bag for a couple of dollars to give to him. I knew it wouldn't solve the problem of being homeless, but it was all I had. Handing it to him, I bid him farewell and continued on my way, on my own journey.


As I continued to follow the distant sound of live music, I kept remembering that the poor will always be with us. I continued to pray for Rob, hoping God would hear it. Selfishly, I also prayed that Rob wouldn't follow me—afterall, I hadn't included a gun, knife or mace in my life bag to protect me, should some psycho decide to take advantage of me.


I found my way to the corner of Park St. and Goodale. My ears had finally found the live music--a local alternative acoustic band was covering pop music. Kiosks, hot dog venues and a man giving away free nacho chips and salsa were lined up on both sides of the street. A bench sat right across from the Patio Bar where the live music was filling the air and across the way was Goodale park, green and lovely; full of life. Behind me was a beautiful Orthodox Church; it's Latin inscriptions, enclosed floral gardens and architecture seemed enchantingly out of place. Nonetheless, I soaked it all in as I listened to the acoustic band cover Kanye West's "Heartless".


Columbus isn't anything to rave over-unless you look carefully. Almost as spectacular as the fireworks were that night was the variety and diversity of people that lived here. I have often daydreamed of far and distant lands; of people and places of different ethnicities and cultures and races. But park yourself on the corner of any Columbus metropolitan area and that is exactly what you'll discover.


I know. You might have just read this and thought, "Does this even qualify for the contest?? Did this chick not read the directions? Does she not know that we want to know what she wants her life to be and look like over the next year of 5??" Ah yes, I have read the rules and knew immediately that over the next year, I have found myself NOT overseas, but parked in Columbus as an AmeriCorps VISTA with the responsibility and delight of serving those in need. I hope that everyday, over the next year, can look a little like this. I hope that I can wake up not sure of what adventures lay in store for me; not sure of what beautiful human being I may come across that possess both a need and a gift to the world. I hope that through it all, I can still see life as something worth giving and sharing.


Lastly, I'd love to attend the seminar (www.donmilleris.com/conference) to learn how to communicate my life a bit better; to tell a better story. I am writing a book, documenting my first year experience as an AmeriCorps VISTA. Just logging what I do on a daily basis would be boring--so boring that I should just stop and burn what I've already written. I have a lofty idea to write my experience in a way that has some purpose for future VISTA's, giving them a fun way to look at their first year experience. Who am I kidding? Who will want to read it at all? To be honest, I just came across this contest TODAY, August 19th, 2010 as I was taking a "breaking" from my AmeriCorps job and reading about the lives of my 1000 facebook friends. So I decided to submit this "blog" on an outdated "blog" I started years ago and occasionally write on. Here goes nothing that could lead to anything!!

http://vimeo.com/12011394

<object width="400" height="300"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=12011394&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=1&color=&fullscreen=1&autoplay=0&loop=0" /><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=12011394&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=1&color=&fullscreen=1&autoplay=0&loop=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="300"></embed></object><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/12011394">Living a Better Story Seminar</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/atcpodcast">All Things Converge Podcast</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p>

Jesus Knows...

My job stresses me out to no avail. I think the stress has manifested itself physically as I have a hard time sleeping at night, constantly have a headache and my lower jaw is tight. I'm falling a part and I'm only 25!

Today I had 4 kids scheduled to see in the afternoon. Today, only two showed up. Productivity was missed again.

In my frustration, I ran to a safe place; a quiet place; a place of refuge; My church. Over the last two months, I usually find myself at the church at least one afternoon a week. Sometimes I'll just go and walk around; sit in the lobby on one of the couches or chairs; find a quiet corner or go in the prayer room. There, I'll sit and share my frustrations and hopes with God. Usually my frustrations revolve around my current job and purpose in life.

Today's scenario: Both kids I pay a visit to, in some passive or blunt way, tell me my job is not helping at all; that I'm wasting my time with them. One of the kids I have seen for a year,the other, 5 months. I just walked away feeling like a failure. In my mind, I have given them tools to equip them to do better in life...job applications, references, a listening ear, etc. Yet they don't take any of it and their lives don't ever seem to change. I honestly don't know if they ever will.

As I shared this with God today, I felt like God was listening and sharing his heart with me. He pointed out Ezekiel 33. He pointed out a passage in Luke chapter 9...I left feeling encouraged that God even cared about my heart. He, too, knows what it feels like to be rejected despite giving His children love and discipline. I thank God for His compassion on me today.

It can be so easy for me to get down and discouraged, especially working in this field. But I am encouraged to keep walking by faith and listening to hear God's sweet, still voice speak. Amen!