we don't need no education

S-C-H-O-O-L. See, I know how to spell school, but apparently I didn’t on Sunday morning. I’ve been in the education system for two decades, and I have learned decidedly less than what one is supposed to. At least that is the story the teens will give you.

You see, this weekend we took a group of teens up to Graves Mountain Lodge this weekend for a retreat about leadership, finding, and following God’s will for both our lives and our ministry. It was a great retreat with some amazing young leaders. On Friday my vocabulary was on FIRE man, I had to check myself a couple of times for using words the teens didn’t know (transubstantiation being the highlight of the day). We returned to FXCC Sunday morning at about 9:15, and I was supposed to teach class at 10:30-ish. At this point I am so freakin’ tired I can barely stand up – I had worked till 12:45 Thursday night/Friday morning and was back at the church at 8 on Friday morning to leave for the retreat. So there I stand, imparting a wealth of knowledge to a classroom full of eager jr high and high school students. And I mention school (some of them started back yesterday, while most of them start back next week). I get the usual response of groaning paired with phrases of “why’d you have to mention that” or “we have another week, don’t remind us.” So I feel the need to get the class moving out of the “complain about school” mode – so I say, and this is a direct quote, “I’m sorry I mentioned that ugly word that starts with a ‘C’ and ends with a ‘chool’.” (In case you didn’t know ‘chool’ is pronounced just like ‘cool’, which is something I am not.) The kids immediately laugh, and say, “Jessica, it starts with a ‘S’ not a ‘C’.”

I have been to graduate school, and still can’t spell it. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a spelling bee champion. I’m sure I will be reminded of this stellar teaching performance daily for a while. (Thank you Chris) The reality of the situation is that I was just trying to show the teens that I too am flawed, because I don’t think that they see that side of me enough. Who am I kidding, I make a mockery of myself in front of them daily – and I get paid to do it. I have the chool-est job ever!!!!!!

we are the champions

"When two hearts race, both win." - This was the message that I found staring at me from my dove chocolate wrapper during our poker game on Friday night. Hannah and I immediately burst into fits of hysterical laughter.
It just invokes a rather funny mental image. Picture two hearts, not the lovey-dovey valentine kind, but the kind with valves and chambers and stuff, both of which are decked out in 80's workout gear, complete with too-short shorts, sweatbands, and leg-warmers (if hearts like this had legs, of course). They are racing down the beach and in the background the Chariots of Fire theme song is wafting through the air. They both stumble across the finish line and immediately collapse from lack of oxygen, seeing as how they are unattached from the lungs and can't properly function without them. What an inspiring mental image. It's not exactly the humor that the writers at dove had in mind I’m sure, but when you write something as cheesy as that - mocking must immediately ensue.

On a slightly different note: Those of you who are expecting a seriously funny post about a certain guy who has been known to sport a mustache circa-1979 Magnum P.I. will have to wait at least one more week. He is going to the event tonight - but I've been replaced as the ever-mocking life coach. It is my personal mission to find out the identity of this new character in this comedy of epic proportions, so I am offering the following: a Best Buy giftcard to whoever discovers the new person's identity and lets me know so that i can restore order to this new found state of chaos.

girls just wanna have fun

A friend and fellow-blogger posted about our alma mater’s new “Minister’s & Wives Day”. So, after reading his post (you can catch it here) and getting all fired up, I decided to host a ranting session of my own.

Harding, which resides in the county seat of the largest meth-producing county in the nation (Urban legend or not, white county does produce a lot of meth), has decided to host a day for ministers. Well, I’m a minister, and I’m not married – and even if I were, can you imagine the look of horror DDB would have on his face if I showed up with a wife. Yeah, that would be a disaster like none other, and I’m gonna have to rule that entire scenario out with a “big fat negatory”.

Why can’t Harding join the rest of us and realize that God doesn’t give spiritual gifts based on gender, and that several women, myself included, have left institutions of higher learning within our fellowship and have gone on to actively pursue a life in full-time ministry.

At first, I was mad, not the upset kind of mad – but the hoppin’ mad that makes me want to go down there and physical hurt the Harding powers-that-be (or whoever is responsible for this fiasco). I was mad that they were alienating a group of women who, despite their lack of Y-chromosomes, have dedicated their lives to serving God. I was mad that they were alienating men who are single and in ministry, because they are single doesn’t make them any less qualified to minister the word.

Then it hit me… I shouldn’t be mad, I should want to cry. There are people out there who think like this, who are stuck in this mindset. I got out and realized that there are realms of thought outside of the Harding-approved theology that validate and welcome a questioning of the status quo. These people are responsible for the lives of students who are coming into their own faith and this isn’t theology I want them receiving. This runs deeper than a Minister’s day with a poorly chosen name. This is the core of their theology. With all of those upstanding men of God who are paid theologians, you would have thought that one of them would have said, “Hold up, is this the message we are really trying to send?” Either this is the theology they want to spread to their corner of “the brotherhood” (which is becoming more like Freed everyday) or they just are not thinking (which scared me more, seeing as how they claim to be an institution for higher learning).

I’m so glad that I have found a church that can look beyond marriage and gender, and an eldership who sees the importance of utilizing your spiritual gifts, and that the possession of those gifts isn’t directly linked to your reproductive system. But what do I do now? How do I help those women coming behind me see that it doesn’t have to be this way? How do I help places like Harding see that they are making women in ministry (and single men for that matter) feel like second-class members of God’s kingdom? Can I do anything at all, or am I destined to watch Harding alienate women and marginalize itself from the rest of the world?

Back to life, back to reality

So, this is what the real world feels like. I’ve spent the past two decades in school (scary thought, eh) and now it has officially ended. Well, I guess it officially ended in May, but it didn’t feel real…until yesterday.

In the hotbed of diversity that is the FXCC office, I will soon be the youngest person by OVER a decade. When the other Jessica makes her way back to college in a week, I will be the lone twenty-something. Graham made like Michael and Bolton-ed (Okay, Graham if you are reading this – your phrase only works in the present tense “I’m making like Michael and Bolton”). And as of 5-ish EST, Adam had entered Texas and was 160-something miles from the Dallas area. Jen should be headed back to Abilene any day now, and C.Shock and Kat (yea, Metallics) have been in Abilene for most (if not all) of the summer. And as for me…well, I got up this morning, got dressed, looked for gray hairs, and went into the office in what has now become my new routine.

Sidenote that had potential to be it’s own blog post, but I’m too lazy: I found my first gray hair on Friday – talk about FREAKING OUT – I almost had a heart attack. I immediately plucked it, and here’s to hoping that is a melanin-absence anomaly of the follicle realm of Jessica’s head.

Continue original train of thought here: This is now my life, and I’m coming to grips with the fact that, at least for now, this is my home. This is the first time in twenty years that I haven’t bought school supplies (How I miss fun colored mechanical pencils, color-coded binders – okay, so I’m a tad-bit of a dork) and I think I’m okay with it. I haven’t left reality; I have entered a new reality. Yes, I’m sad that my friends are all going to be back in the same general geographical location, but I’ll be in A-town in about a month. However, all is not lost, I have discovered an amazing group of young professionals who are on fire for God. Maybe reality isn’t all that bad.

clouds in my coffee

I have an addiction to coffee. In NoVa there is a Starbucks on just about every corner, and I can tell you which ones make the best coffee, which ones have the friendliest partners, and which ones have the best seating/learning environment. I have become a connoisseur of the rich, thick aroma and bold taste of a great cup of coffee. I press my own often, but sometimes I just feel the need to go inside and enjoy the experience. A hot cup of coffee (or Vanilla Skim Latte, depending on the mood), a good book, and the loop of the same music are what make Starbucks the booming success it is. I have a theory that Starbucks is to music what Oprah is to books. They package what might not be seen as mainstream music (Frank Sinatra, Etta James, Alanis unplugged) and market it to the herds of thick-walleted, upper-middle class consumers that bombard them to fulfill their caffeine addiction by purchasing over-priced coffee simply because that tan cup with the green mermaid is a status symbol among working people across America.

I digress, the caffeine addiction and love/hate relationship with Starbucks, while a central part of my life, is not the point of this post - it is the cup. As most of you know, Starbucks has "The Way I See It" on the back of their cups - I am usually too busy enjoying my sweet nectar of the gods to worry about what the cup says, but today I read my cup - and received a pleasantly thought provoking surprise.

"Everywhere, unthinking mobs of 'independent thinkers' wield tired clichés like cudgels, pummeling those who dare question 'enlightened' dogma. If 'violence never solved anything," cops wouldn't have guns and slaves may never have been freed. If it's better that 10 guilty men go free to spare one innocent, why not free 100 or 1,000,000? Clichés begin arguments, they don't settle them." - Jonah Goldberg (editor-at-large of National Review Online)

We do say that violence isn’t the answer. We teach little kids that it’s not okay to bite or hit, that the best way to solve a problem is to go to the teacher – one should always try to attempt to resolve an issue diplomatically instead of physically. These are the rules we follow in offices and malls (even Starbucks) around the country, yet these are the rules we throw aside in situations that we view as the exceptions to the norms.

If violence isn’t the answer, then why do we send thousands of troops Iraq to solve a problem? We view it unacceptable to resort to violence when you don’t get your way through the ‘traditional’ methods of diplomacy in any other situation. However, when it comes to international politics and police/FBI/CIA work – violence is ALWAYS an option and if often viewed as the best answer even when there are other options available.

I say all of this to say that I think we get ourselves into trouble by teaching our kids these clichés, and telling them that they are the standard for life. They, like the golden rule, are applicable in all areas of life, yet this is not the message that we send in our everyday actions. People across America see their government behaving in manner that says, “Screw diplomacy, I want what I want when I want it. And if I can’t get nicely, I’ll use force if necessary.” Maybe, just maybe, this attitude of our leaders has/will pass down to the masses, and people are emulating their government. What irony it would be if the leaders of the free world were role models for their own citizens, and the message they were sending was one of violence and using force to get what you wanted.

I say all of this, but the kernel of wisdom on my tan paper cup remains the same: “Clichés begin arguments, the don’t settle them.”