My Day of Writing Essays

As it turns out, a good night's rest, a well-balanced breakfast, prayer, and little bit of yoga was exactly what I needed to get me into essay-writing mode this morning. With the day off from work and the whole house to myself, I utilized the time to the fullest, stopping only for a tiny lunch (I didn't want digestion to interfere with cognition) and to occasionally pace back and forth, attempting to work through my thoughts orally before transcribing them to paper.

Okay, in all honesty, I was not quite that dedicated. It's amazing how, in a time crunch, activities that normally slip under my radar--things like peeling dead skin off of my sunburned legs or finally getting around to figuring out how to use Twitter--suddenly seem to be of the most urgent importance. But nevertheless, with perseverance and the help of a very smart friend who knows me well and is good at proofreading papers, I completed my application and submitted it, two days before the deadline.

Now all I have to do is wait for the wonderful people who have agreed to serve as references for me to submit their online recommendations.

Though I was happy with the way that both of the essays came together, I was especially pleased with the form in which my thoughts found expression in the first essay. I'm happy to share it below:

Traveling—my experiences living, working, serving, and visiting abroad—has had a profound influence on shaping my spiritual life. It is impossible to imagine what my relationship with God would look like today if I had never gone on a short-term missions trip to Kenya, studied abroad in England, or taught English for two years in Japan. My experiences overseas, varied and uniquely meaningful as they may be, have corporately pointed me toward the awareness that God is present and at work in every culture and corner of the world. They have alerted me repeatedly to the fact that God is beyond the limits of my personal worldview, which, incidentally, has been expanded greatly on account of all that I have witnessed and participated in in other countries.

Of all the people I have met, the one who impressed me as best exemplifying the teachings of Jesus was a Muslim woman living in a Nairobi slum. Her cramped little house, smaller than my own bedroom back in the U.S., was home not only to her and her two children, but also to five orphans, unrelated to her, whom she had taken it upon herself to provide for. Though this woman had almost nothing, she gave freely, joyfully, and without fear to those in greater need than she. The impact of her example made Christ’s words in Matthew 25:35-40, “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat…” more relevant to me than ever before. This encounter continues to influence me in my job, in my volunteer activities, and in my relationships, as I am reminded to choose love rather than fear and generosity before self-interest.

While living in Japan, I was blessed with a situation that led me to a deeper love and appreciation for the Church. Though I mostly grew up going to church, I later became disheartened by the constantly conflicting personalities and opinions in my congregation. I felt compelled to participate in church leadership, but my frustration at fellow members for not sharing my passions and perspectives often drove me away from attending church for a month or longer. In Japan, however, without the close presence of a supportive group of fellow believers, I became aware of just how vital community is to Christian life. I began to attend a small Japanese church and, despite linguistic barriers, was comforted by the communion of saints who, like me, loved Jesus and were trying to discern what it means to live as a Christian. Now that I am back in the U.S., I have a renewed sense of purpose and gratitude for attending my church. The former frustrations still arise, but I know that our love and togetherness will always be, in the words of Thomas Merton, “the resetting of a Body of broken bones.” With confidence that God’s grace is sufficient for all situations, I am grateful to bring my creativity and the unique worldview my experiences have given me into my role of service within that Body.

Words of Encourragement

An eventful day. I went kayaking on the bay with Chris, a current CouchSurfer from England, and, on the way back home, was involved in a little scrape between my dad's Jeep, which I had borrowed to transport the kayaks, and another car. It was my fault.

But tomorrow morning I am scheduled to offer some Words of Encouragement during the church service, and, having thought of a topic which I can hopefully wedge into my alloted time of "under three minutes," I'm going to have a go at organizing these thoughts in writing.

It begins with a story:

When I was in the ninth grade I was not a good student. I got mostly C's, and I was pretty much okay with that. I had always been a "C" student and rather apathetically assumed that I would always be a "C" student. In my mind, trying hard in school just wasn't part of who I was or who I identified myself to be.

In the ninth grade, I was sure my English teacher hated me; and, even now, looking back, I don't think I was too off the mark. She often made it very clear that she was disappointed with me and my lack of consistency in completing my homework. But one day, after class, she pulled me aside and said, "I was talking to Mrs. Anderson today"--Mrs. Anderson was my History teacher, whom I was also convinced hated me--"and we both agreed, 'That Meghan Janssen sure knows how to write an essay.'"

It was a simple comment, made by a teacher whose projected dislike of me I certainly reciprocated. But it changed everything. If I was really good at writing essays, then I was going to be good at writing essays. After that, my grades began to make a drastic turn-around. I had always liked to read, but now my favorite school subject was English. In college, I studied English, and, after graduation, I went to teach English in Japan.

What my ninth-grade English teacher did for me is something we all have the capacity to do for one another. Each of us has the ability to affirm and positively influence those around us by speaking words of truth and encouragement into their lives. Because when someone genuinely affirms you--when they really listen to you and are willing to extend themselves in order to show you something about yourself that is good and special and unique--it doesn't just make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It also implicitly calls out a responsibility for you to be a good steward with what you have been given.

We have been called the beloved of God. God affirms this love in so many ways. And if we truly believe that--that we are absolutely loved, not in spite of who we are but really as we are, then, sure, that makes us feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy inside, but it also calls out a great responsibility. A responsibility to live, not as what we previously apathetically assumed ourselves to be, but to live as the beloved of God.

Doing

We are very much concerned with doing The Right Thing. Yet, in our present society, so often characterized by intellectual one-upmanship and relentless rationalizations that drive us incessantly further into ambiguity, The Right Thing is ever elusive. I look around and see many of my friends and others my age in the same condition as I: stagnant, without any especial sense of confidence about where we are or where we are going. If we look to national lawmakers at the moment, we are given little reassurance of our capability as humans to move beyond a battle of thoughts and into any kind of real action. Republican Representatives may have gotten elected for the ideals that they promised to hold firm to, but they were also elected to do a job, and right now doing that job effectively requires that they adhere to the desires of the majority of the American people, and compromise on a plan to raise the debt ceiling. As Theodore Roosevelt once cleverly put it, "In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing."

For me, this is a year that has been characterized by indecision and inconsistency. The person I have become, or rather the person I have shown myself to be, is far from embodying the simple Christian practice to "Simply let your 'Yes' be 'Yes' and your 'No,' 'No'" (Matthew 5:37). When I came back from Japan, I had some ideas of things I'd like to do, but I hesitated to pursue any of them. I created this blog, announcing my intention to update it daily, but quickly relinquished that discipline. Around November I sketched out a grand Plan and announced it to those closest to me, but allowed it to disintegrate less than two months later. And even now, as I type these words, I am tormented with uncertainty over whether decisions I've made in recent months have been the right ones, and I consider whether, for the sake of my own comfort, it would be alright to go back on my promises.

Writing specifically about the time I spend in prayer would seem too personal, too open to misinterpretation by those who read it. I have always found it impossible to express to others the things that I feel God has been "placing on my heart," at least as far as they are understood as such. But I do believe, with utmost certainty, that God speaks to us in ways beyond our normal capacity for perception. And, despite the uncertainties and ambiguities of this last year, God has been persistently building in me an awareness of a Love that persists and prevails through all situations and all time. But it is a Love that, in its very essence, demands response. The grouchy acquiescence to inactivity into which it is often so easy to fall is not only incompatible with the Gospel message, it is impossible if I, in the core of my very being, truly believe that God is Love. But to live with that kind of knowledge, we must relinquish the fear that holds us immobilized by the shackles of "what if?" and step forward in the confidence that Love will be there to greet us.