My generation is leaving the church in droves--leaving because of hypocrisy, because of bad experiences, because frankly they can do a better job of it than some fifty-something seminarian who has no grasp on the real world. Their pastors don't understand the generation that goes to gay bars just to hang out with friends, the generation that wants authenticity above everything (or at least the appearance of authenticity), the generation that doesn't want to be looked down on because they are young. And so we leave the church, figuring that any kind of "fellowship" we might get isn't enough to make it worth our time. We value our own ideas; we have an opinion on every topic (and I speak from experience here), so anything a pastor can give us is only stuff we could figure out on our own.

So what is to be done? For without humility enough to accept fallen brothers and sisters in a church setting, my generation is rejecting the body of Christ. Screwtape, in a letter to Wormwood, tells him to stress in the new believer's mind the irksome habits of other Christians to get him to leave the church. Satan knows the power of grace-covered people meeting with other grace-covered people, for "where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I." And so he--effectively--does everything in his power to limit the power of the church over my generation. And only if we have humility enough to realize our own hypocrisy can we begin to show grace to our fellow brothers and sisters.

My plea to my generation is, don't give up on the church. Don't expect to be an effective Christian if you're going it alone. Don't be so concerned with reaching your culture that you fail to realize your own need for spiritual humility and for the teaching of men of God.

And my plea to the generation before me: don't condemn us without understanding us. Flee hypocrisy--we'd rather know you admit your flaws than have us find them out later. Talk to us and don't turn on us, measure everything you teach us by Scripture so that we can't find error in your teaching.

I wish there was a solution. I wish I knew how to act and what to say to make my generation understand the church's need for them and the world's need for the church. As my pastor said, the church will never understand my generation unless my generation is going to church. So I'll continue to go to church, and continue to speak truth to my generation, and pray for God's healing hand upon them both.

nothing to write

It seems that the moment I step into the library with the intention of posting on my blog, all thoughts are gone from my head, my profoundness (what little of it there was) is gone, and I am left empty of ideas.

I have been poring over the Writer's Market Guide, finding a variety of publishers, and working frantically on my writing as I have been unable to do for the past six months. I had begun to doubt my writing abilities at the end of this school year, frustrated as I have been by the fact that I had no time to pursue what I love. But all my confidence in writing is restored unto me, and I have been able to spend several hours a day just writing thoughts and working on my novels.

I do sound pretentious writing all about novels and such as though I could actually presume to be an author. We shall see how it all turns out. I only know that I am not going to sit idly back and watch the world turn when my Master has called me to excellence. If these are not the plans God has for me, then he will make that evident to me in time.

I sound so confident in God's grace here, so detatched, and so able to submit. I am not really--I'm just good at faking it. Sometimes I arrogantly try to convince myself that I'm a better writer than anyone else, because that's what I want to do, and dang it--God should honor what I want to do, shouldn't he?

But I am working on having a heart of submission, a heart that desires to be used more than it desires to be on the cover of a book. I will ultimately (whether by my choice or his force) submit to the plans that he has for me--whether or not it's painful is my choice. But for now, I will keep doing what I know to do, writing what I know to write, and scribbling away lengthy and pretentious posts on my blog.

springtime

It is springtime in Wisconsin--a second springtime for me, which I am relishing. It's hot, too--eighties--without any humidity. Yet another reason I love home; it's not, as everyone assumes, cold all year round, but it doesn't have the muggy heaviness of the Tennessee air.

I just biked down the bike trail to the library and am sitting in the air-conditioning thinking of how good it is to be home. Certainly, there are broken ideals (my brother and sister still fight, and my mom still gets impatient, whatever I may tell myself when I'm fourteen hours away); and certainly I am still under an obligation to work hard (mowed the lawn, am making dinner, tried to unpack); but I am home and my mind and body are at rest.

I just learned this semester that I am an introvert; and as much as I enjoy my friendships and my good conversations, they are both draining after awhile. I had come to the point in the semester where I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I despirately needed the rest of not having to impress anyone, or not having to make light conversation every dinner time.

All this to say that I am relieved to be home at last.

waterfront director

Well, I got information on where I'll be working this summer. The waterfront director of a summer camp. Sounds prestigious, eh? And I couldn't go to sleep last night because I had so many ideas about how I'm going to run the waterfront, and how it's going to be the cleanest, most efficient waterfront ever, and I'm going to be in charge of everyone and probably won't even offend anyone, and it'll be hard but I'm up for the challenge. All these thoughts went through my head at 2 in the morning.

This summer will be hard. For all my idealism, I can accept this fact. I will have to adopt an attitude of humility toward people who are older than me that I am in charge of; and be willing to confess when my air of superiority has offended them. I will be responsible for everything running smoothly, and there will be no handing off responsibility to a supervisor. And when people come to me with their complaints, I can't just direct them to someone else. Having this kind of responsibility quickly makes me proud, but will also quickly become a burden I cannot handle on my own.

Perhaps this summer will be the start of my maturation into a woman and not just an adolescent trying despirately to look womanly. Perhaps I will realize what sacrifice is necessary for the furthering of God's kingdom, and be willing to make that sacrifice instead of hoping that others do first.

Just some scattered thoughts.