Stephanie and Somebody

I'm sitting here writing with one cat licking the walls and the other trying to make off with Stephanie's iPod, both signs that they are hungry. Stephanie is at work, her second shift this week. She has been doing a lot of reading most days to make up for lost time last week. She puts on her skinny jeans and faces the world like a champ. She even rocked an interview for a promotion earlier this morning.

I've been back to work as well, and was excited this week to purchase for the school a new MacPro with a 23" Apple Cinema Display, Final Cut Studio, and Adobe CS3. The computer comes tomorrow. My friend (and boss) Matt said it was an answer to prayer. I know what I would trade this computer for, but I don't think it helps anyone to say it. It's just that maybe I could have been clearer in prioritizing my requests.

This weekend I take my new student chaplains on a retreat to bond and plan for the upcoming school year. They don't know that my real desire is to follow the plan that Jesus outlines for the disciples he sent out: don't take any extra clothes, don't take any money, just go and minister and find someone to stay with in each town you visit. If no one offers you hospitality, then go on to the next town. If something goes wrong, I will certainly be fired, possibly go to jail, and the school will be sued.

I guess that's why Matt told me I couldn't do the retreat that way. At the end of our conversation about security, control, personal responsibility, and faith, I looked him in the eye and said, "So what you're telling me is that I can't take Jesus at his word."

Then, just for comic effect, I yelled, "I quit!" and stormed out of his presence, straight to my car and left for the day without another word. He has called a few times, but I have been too busy to answer. I am guessing he wants to tell me how impressively funny it all was.

The thing that was funny, really, was that when I told him, "So what you're telling me is that I can't take Jesus at his word," I don't think I was really talking to him.

It's more on the tragic funny side of comedy, now that I think of it.

Why does it feel like going back to normal is the same as acting like we never wanted this baby? And why does it feel like faith means pretending like we get it--life and why things happen the way they do? And why does Jesus say we aren't worthy of him if we don't hate our father, mother, wife, and husband?

Or child.

Maybe we're not quite back to normal.