Today Central Bible College is having its last classes and last chapel...ever. As though God has chosen poetic expression on this last day, it's raining. This is such a special place. For 90 years, thousands of men and women came to this place to be trained as ministers and missionaries, and left this place to take their part in changing the world.
For me, this is where a lot of the people who made a huge impact on my life had their training. This is where God showed me that my identity can be found in Him - more than a musician, more than a preacher, I am a child of God. This is where He gave me a vision for Japan. This is where I learned how to study God's Word. This is where I learned how to love, how to invest in, and how to develop people. This is where I learned how to seek God with a fervency I never knew before. This is where I learned to trust God in the midst of hard times. This is where I met my husband and many lifelong friends. I have so many incredible memories in this place. I would not be who I am had it not been for CBC. I am one of many, and I am honored to be part of an amazing legacy. At the end of this semester CBC will close its doors, but the legacy will continue for generations to come.
"Heaven will forever look different because of CBC."
How do you say goodby to a place like this?
Friday, April 26, 2013
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Sixth Month-iversary
Today marks six months since I was diagnosed with lupus. Over the last six months, I have experienced a season full of good days and hard days, times of intense emotion, moments of humor, heartaches, challenges, and victories. Most of all, this has been a season of learning:
Learning new routines and discovering the consequences for when I don't stick to those routines (like how if I miss taking my meds, I'll throw up uncontrollably the next day).
Learning to show grace when people try to diagnose me or fix me. (Oh, how creative people can be!)
Learning to function at a different pace, to slow down, to take breaks, to do less (without accomplishing less).
Learning that I must consciously choose between two extremes: I can either get depressed or be positive in everything. I can either allow my situation to paralyze me or fuel me. I can either doubt God or trust Him. I don't have the option of choosing a middle ground. And each morning, I have have to make the decision once again. (I don't think very profoundly in the morning. The way these issues manifest themselves in the morning sounds more like, "Should I get out of bed today?")
When I was diagnosed, I decided early on to believe that just because something is hard doesn't mean that it's bad. Just because life is hard doesn't mean life is bad. Six months down the road, my belief has not changed.
My life is hard, but my life is not bad.
My life is good.
And tomorrow morning, I think I'll choose to get out of bed.
Learning new routines and discovering the consequences for when I don't stick to those routines (like how if I miss taking my meds, I'll throw up uncontrollably the next day).
Learning to show grace when people try to diagnose me or fix me. (Oh, how creative people can be!)
Learning to function at a different pace, to slow down, to take breaks, to do less (without accomplishing less).
Learning that I must consciously choose between two extremes: I can either get depressed or be positive in everything. I can either allow my situation to paralyze me or fuel me. I can either doubt God or trust Him. I don't have the option of choosing a middle ground. And each morning, I have have to make the decision once again. (I don't think very profoundly in the morning. The way these issues manifest themselves in the morning sounds more like, "Should I get out of bed today?")
When I was diagnosed, I decided early on to believe that just because something is hard doesn't mean that it's bad. Just because life is hard doesn't mean life is bad. Six months down the road, my belief has not changed.
My life is hard, but my life is not bad.
My life is good.
And tomorrow morning, I think I'll choose to get out of bed.
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