Finals (aka Rapture) Week Survival Guide

While a friend and I were studying in the university library earlier this week, she asked me, “Do you ever just have a rapture moment? You know, that moment when you want Jesus to come back and take you with him? I’m having one of those.” This comment, of course, was in response to the study of Anatomy and Physiology (s/o to Mimi G. Brandon for being awesome, and killing her exam). As I looked down at my fourteen-page personal study guide for General Chemistry, I had to agree; finals week, a few semesters from now, will be the hour at which Jesus comes back.

Although I am a freshman (almost sophomore!) college student, I have learned a couple strategies for making finals week more crushable. So if you are a college student who has recently survived another round of finals, tuck this away and pull it out at the end of next semester. If you have not yet conquered all your beasts, read the following five tips carefully.

1. Time: Prioritize it (of course). Study hard, but learn to have a little fun and some laughs too. These are the crazy days of which you will have so much to say to your children! Do something worth sharing. Moreover, choose to spend some quality time with your Father. This semester, I chose to meditate on Scripture to start my day and also end it. This strategy might not work for you, but find something that does. Use your time to refocus, and intentionally remind yourself of why you are laboring so hard anyway; it will motivate and rejuvenate you.
2. Attention: In order to focus our attention on the tasks at hand, my friends and I chose to abstain from social media in the last couple weeks of the semester through finals. It has become a tradition for us. This semester, I also chose to forego listening to music. These two things combined have helped me remove distractions and optimize study time. Although any sort of abstinence isn’t fun, finals week isn’t meant to entertain; it’s meant to grow you. So choose something, even if it isn’t social media or music, to surrender with the intention of focusing your attention. You’ll be thankful you did! I promise, it pays off.
3. Sleeeeeeep: I never ever ever EVER sacrifice sleep to study. And although this habit might be tempting, it’s not a good idea for anticipation of the rapture. Say no to all-nighters. Choose, instead, to give your body and mind the much needed rest they deserve when working so hard for you. In chemistry, a substance becomes what is called a “supercritical fluid” under great pressure and temperature. So turn down the internal thermostat and barometer by sleeping. As a result, your brain will remain in the state it needs to be in to serve you! And it won’t become a supercritical fluid. Nasty.
4. Therapy: I almost called this one the “Take Five”, but it didn’t fit with the one word theme, so therapy it was. I highly suggest developing the habit of studying in intervals; do what you gotta for 30, 25, 20 minutes and then take five to relax.  In accordance with the latest trend, I color (yes, in a coloring book with colored pencils) between intervals of hard core work. It helps me rest in and endure through the studying of so much material. So find something that works to reduce your pressure! And be diligent to use that tool.
5. Eat: My mom knows me so well; she left an unopened bag of twizzlers on my bed this weekend for me to enjoy through studying. Twizzlers, for an unknown reason, are my favorite study snack. I don’t eat them when I’m not studying, and when I’m studying, I eat nothing else besides this fruity glucose-infused rope. Find a snack you can buy (or that can be included in a care package…) and have it handy. It will motivate you!

These are my top five tips: take the Time, give the Attention, Sleep much, indulge in a Therapy and EAT. I have wittingly chosen these five words to form a word: TASTE. Although somewhat strange, this word reminds me of Psalm 34:8, which says,

“Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!”

At first glance, this verse might not have much to do with finals week, or the rapture. But in choosing to look a little deeper, I see that in something as important yet trivial as final exams, we can taste of His goodness. Our grades won’t last forever. Our identity is hidden in Christ as children of God. Our hope is not in our GPA. However, these are important days filled with important tasks which will thrust us into all the good things the Lord has planned for our lives. Thus, we can find him in our studying, with our study buddies, and even during our exams. So choose to be faithful through finals week, and choose to seek the Lord above all else, and maybe even more so in this week than all the others. Choose the Lord, and you will see his goodness, and he will be a refuge for you.

Good luck! And so much grace.

Hope Sings

Today, I am thankful for newness of life, and the hope that is spring.

On my morning commute to school yesterday, I drove past my place of employment and my great-grandma’s place of residence. Friday, hospice had given her a month to live, a month of heart beats, a month to breathe. And I prayed for her as I drove past, asking for the Savior’s presence to fill her empty room and empty mind with his love and joy and peace. I drove on to school, went to chapel, took a chemistry quiz. After my first lecture of the day, I found that my mom had left me a text and had called twice. I promptly returned her call and was told through sloppy tears that Grandma had passed earlier this morning before any of the family could get to the nursing facility.

Today, before I left for my afternoon biology lab, we received a phone call that another almost-really-great-grandma of mine had past as well.

And I think of their lives and the little pieces of them I know.

My great-grand claimed to be a Christian, but she often reacted in ways which told a different story. And for so long, we lamented as we watched the disease take her mind, cell by cell. We prayed Jesus would shine the light of his grace through her walls and he did. Through a conversation with my aunt, she asked for forgiveness of all her sins and proclaimed Christ as King in her life. And even through her disease, we saw the effects of this change in her heart–and mind. In the last night we spent with her in consciousness, she would anxiously say, “Heaven, heaven, heaven, heaven. Faith, faith, faith,” and she affirmed she was ready to go and be united with her husband and the Savior himself.

The other beautiful woman–the almost-really-great-grandma of mine– and I had a conversation one weekday morning this semester. As I was getting ready to leave for the day, she asked me, “Christianna, do you know any Bible verses that talk about hope?” I thought for a moment and told her I couldn’t think of any specific references. She walked on to her room to do her “daily Bible reading” and I packed up my bags. Before I reached the door, she walked excitedly out of her room and held up her devotional book. “Read this!” she exclaimed. The title indicated it was all about hope. We smiled at one another and said our goodbyes.

Now, these ladies are both realizing the hope to which we cling. They are dancing, with new bodies, new hearts, new minds. They are dancing with fluidity and energy because they have been face to face with the King, and they are finally satisfied. They have found their home in him, and he is enough for them.

With hope, we, too, look forward to the day when we will be reunited with them. But ultimately, we look forward to the day when we will also see Jesus, our home and our hope, and be satisfied in him. All the tears, all the pain, all the disease, will finally be washed away in Him. He will be enough for us, and no cares of this life will be separating us from his love. We will stand face to face with the King.

And so today, and in the coming days, we will cling to him. The psalmist David said, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and he rescues those crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). Death may be close, but He is closer still. In him, we have eternal life. Now. Today. Because we know him, have been washed of our sins, and follow him. Jesus Culture, a worship band, recorded a song in which they sing, “Heaven is here now. He’s all around us. Heaven is Jesus.” 

He is eternal life. Jesus brings newness of life and he is our Hope. Today, I am thankful in him.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” Romans 15:13

 

A Dusty World

There are a six things in life of which I will never tire:

1. the music of John Mark McMillan
2. WORDS (of yellowed paper & ink & love)
3. my home & my family
4. diagrams outlining photosynthesis
5. plants & all things green
6. dust.

Dust everywhere. Dust in my shoes and dust in my hair and dust in my pores and dust in my mind. Although this obsession with dust may seem strange, it’s been slow growing, as dust often does, in layers over my heart for nearly eighteen years.

I think this dust-love story began when I was around the age of five. After hearing about the plight of orphans in Eastern Europe, I crafted an offering box out of disposed cardboard and collected change wherever I went. In total, I raised a little over two hundred dollars and whole lot of love to send over the ocean. Around this time, my mama went on a mission trip to Mexico, and her travels sparked an interest in my heart to go and share in person. I began saving my pennies, putting them in the bank and labeling them for a future trip to Mexico like my mama had done. Although I didn’t realize this movement toward dust was significant (I just thought these were ordinary things any American kid would do), my parents recognized this other-worldly love story beginning to unfold in my life.

The next bit of flirting between me and the dirt of the earth is a little unclear to me. Around the age of twelve, I know that I was friendless and seeking. Through my prayers out of loneliness, God revealed to me that “missionary” was something I could be.

And in July of 2013, I went on my first trip to a foreign land of dusty roads and dusty cheeks and dusty soccer balls. I remember waking up early early early on the day of our departure, and knowing I was realizing the biggest dream of my life, a dream so big I hadn’t even bothered to give it a bullet point on a bucketlist.

And wow, I can’t even begin to describe the joy and peace and grace I experienced on this first date with dust.

July 25, 2013 was the last day our team was on the field. I’ll never forget that day; it was perfection. God’s joy and presence was tangible around us as we kicked up dust with our tennis shoes, running and jumping and kicking. I think I fell into a love that day of which I will never escape. It was a love dressed in dust, a love of a Savior and his precious children, a love that supersedes any love we can understand in human terms.

And this dust-love continued to grow from that day to the present.

I went to Peru in February of the following year, and found that Peruvian dust is my favorite of all the varieties. Four months after leaving Peru, I traveled to El Salvador and further developed my love for mountains and green things. As I continued going and growing, God continued to move me deeper into his love, a dusty sort of love that involves grace and truth and the Gospel.

But somewhere between the volcanic lake of El Salvador to the gorge of Cedarville, Ohio, I forgot about my dust-love. I don’t think the dust layers of Latin America on my heart had been washed clean by the abundance of the States. But I think the lure of a career and success and pretty things did cloud my vision more than free-flying dust particles in Nicaragua ever could. So I pursued other passions, like nitty-gritty concepts in biology such as photosynthesis and prokaryotic gene regulation.

As a college freshman and bible-believing girl, I tried to fit all the things I liked into a box–a box labeled “The Life and Future of Christianna”. And I found that not everything could or would fit into this box. In pursuing a life of knowledge, I found I hadn’t left much room in my box for living in dust with a people of dust. I felt uncomfortable inside my box, and over Christmas break, I began to feel anxious about my box.

The beginning of this semester was then characterized by anxiety. “What in the world am I going to do with my life? What do I want to do with it?” and other questions which were difficult to answer kept me up at night. I asked my parents, and mentors, and other persons of wisdom, and of course the Father, many questions about life-planning. But an uneasiness rested over my dusty heart.

God said nothing specific about my future, but emphasized the word “wait”. I didn’t want to be patient, though. I wanted to have a goal, make a plan to reach it, and execute said plan. So I kept asking, and asking, and asking.

And I keep asking, and asking, and asking. I haven’t found complete peace with my future yet, but God has still been faithful to me.

One Sunday morning, God reminded me of the dust, and my earthy love of which I had forgotten. He reminded me of July 25, 2013, bringing to mind the smells and the sounds and the sights which I processed through dusty lenses that day.  I remembered the love and the joy I experience in obeying the Savior–living in and for him. And I knew, regardless of my vocation, I wanted to be his child, and to fall deeper into dusty love with him.

And so I am continuing in patience, in waiting, but also in seeking. My dusty heart has a home south of the equator. But my mind is stuffy and prideful and greedy. I know the Lord will uphold me, even if I find myself disappointed in my life’s trajectory, on the status of my box. I am in the process of removing some selfish dreams from my box to make more room for dust-collecting. Maybe someday I’ll have a mind saturated in dust, rather than just a heart covered in it. I’ll trust God to be the refiner of that especially rebellious organ, but I know he’s upholding me. He certainly holds the whole dusty world in his hands.

(Look at photos of the dusty places here –> VSCO journal)

“The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand.” Psalm 37:23-24

Worthwhile

It is November 9, 2016—the eve of my eighteenth birthday. This milestone in age is generally considered a leap from childhood into adulthood, and the more I consider its implications upon my own life, I must agree. Interestingly enough, I have been practicing the habits of adults, also known as “adulting”, for some time now. Responsibility is nothing new. What is new and somewhat foreign, however, is the thought of independence from family, specifically independence from parents. Most young adults find this idea liberating and thrilling. Although I am thankful they can no longer establish a curfew for me, I do feel rather…lost. I am not sure what life looks like when living on my own. Gratefully, I am still under the influence and care of my parents while I remain a student, at least as an undergraduate. Their house is the one I call home.

Thoughts such as these, as well as others, have made me reconsider past hopes and dreams. Without ever explicitly stating it, I have wanted to be independent from the responsibility of others. I have wanted to be free to travel and to learn and to grow as an individual. However, the more I consider what is important in life and determine the areas in which I want to grow, I long to establish a family of my own. I want a husband. I want children—many, many, many curly-topped kids with hearts for the wild outdoors. I want to hug and laugh and eat and dream and sleep together as a family unit. Most of all, I want the assurance that I will someday be granted this blessing, even if I receive it years from now.

I realize the security of someday creating a family is not something guaranteed to me. Although I am frightened to think of living life on my own, I am not discouraged; hope grows within my bones. The Father, the One who created the universe, has called me his own; I am his daughter, and as such, I will always be included in his family. I have a seat at the table. And this place of belonging is secure because it rests on his grace and mercy, and not upon anything I am or can be or will be, not upon anything I do or can do or will do. I am a child of God because he has called me his own, by the blood of Jesus Christ his Son, and in this righteousness through faith I humbly stand.

In the months since I have been at college, my plans for young adulthood and beyond have slowly been carved into an image which is more clear. However, the delicate details are being formed each day that I live. My convictions have grown stronger; regardless of my vocation, I desire to glorify the Lord with every breath given me. I want to grow in boldness for sharing the Gospel; it is the hope in me. I wish to grow and be shaped in character through the trials I face. I long to develop greater joy. With my whole being and above all other pursuits, I want to cultivate a deeper relationship with the Creator of all things. To know him is to find abundant life.

When I envision an abundant life at the age of (almost) eighteen, I see a garden. It’s late summer—August maybe. The sun is bright and hot and glittering. Rows upon rows upon rows of fruit-bearing plants rise from the softened ground with leaves of deep green. The harvest will be bountiful; it will be abundant. With dusty palms and ruddy arms, I will carefully pluck the fruits of my summer’s labor. When I sit down to taste of the harvest, I will remember the winter and the spring and the summer. I will remember the careful dedication required for each day’s task in every season: the careful planning of winter, the ground-breaking of spring, the rigorous cultivating of summer. And I will remember the sweat and the muscle of digging into the hard crust of the earth, planting seeds of hope and joy and love. I will remember flooding the wasteland of drought with life-giving water. Although the work had been laborious and lengthy, I will taste and see that the goodness of harvest is worth the constant toil.

In all things, then, I want to be faithful. When God gives me a garden to tend for his table, I want to meticulously and fervently work the ground until I reap a harvest worthy of him. In relationships, in vocation, in giftings, in sharing the Gospel, in daily devotion, I want to be faithful to my God the King regardless of the difficulties and loneliness I may encounter. This one dream I have conceived: that I will be able to testify that being faithful is more worthwhile than being extraordinary.

She Stands

With brown roots shallow,

And green stems thin,

She stands.

She stands,

Green leaves glowing,

Sun filtering in.

Rooted and rising,

She stands.

She stands,

Dwelling where she lives.

“TRUST in the Lord,

and DO GOOD.

DWELL in the land,

and befriend faithfulness.”

Psalm 37:3

Peace

I waken early,

Before the sun creeps through the trees.

I rise, eat breakfast, pack lunch,

Soak in the silence of a still morning.

I leave,

Driving away from home

As the sun’s warm light pierces through the clouds,

Illuminating the sky.

I turn off the highway, slow to a stop, gaze at the heavens.

They are pink and blue and orange and gold.

I press on, breathing deep.

The fields through which I drive are covered in a light fog.

They are blue and green,

Soft and hard shades of cool colors in varying degrees.

I arrive at my place of employment,

Ready for the day,

Ready for one more chance to spread the love and light of the Creator,

Whose mercies are new every morning.

And I remember, I am exactly where he wants to be,

Following in his footsteps,

Allowing him to lead me.

The decisions I have made have not been easy.

There have been difficult days.

I have failed.

But God is still so faithful to shine in my darkness,

Awaken me from sleep,

And illuminate the way forward in his golden rays of grace.

I am at peace.

Upward Growing

I am a green and growing thing,

Wanting life,

Needing to breathe.

I seek the sun,

Bright,

And warm,

And empowering.

In clouds I am hidden

From rays of grace.

But I am unafraid.

Although I cannot see them,

Invisible waves of light

Are enveloping me.

And I grow,

Becoming evergreen.

I grow,

Becoming me.

the fullness

The air was full: hot, and heavy, and humid–just the way I liked it.

Without hesitation, it enveloped me like a warm blanket in winter. A comfort. A joy. A security. I breathed deeply, letting the heat and the smells of Iquitos, Peru saturate my lungs, permeate my veins. The air and the smells and the word “Bienvenidos” welcomed me to a familiar place, full of peace and grace.

With wide smiles and grateful hearts, we returned to seven eighty-one Jr Libertad. The doors were opened, the light was pouring in. And although I did not yet realize it, I had come home.

…

It had been a full day.

The fiesta for fifteen older men and women was splendid. It had been a celebration of life, of all the birthdays through all the years. It had been a celebration of new friendships and an expanding community. Many left with tears, alligator tears, in their soft eyes. They left grateful and thankful. I think they were praising the King.

In excitement and satisfaction, I relayed the day’s events to my parents in Ohio. We were laughing. “Instead of adopting babies, you’re going to adopt older people!” my dad had commented. My face was aglow, maybe with a tiny fraction of the light Moses experienced on the mount, the light that had illuminated his face for days.

After talking to my folks, I joined Fran, my mentor, and sat on the patio. We were reveling in the peaceful afternoon which followed the full morning. I smiled, telling her about the conversation with my folks. And when I mentioned adopting the elderly, Fran stopped rocking in her rocker, fixed her eyes upon mine and said, “Christianna, I have always seen this house on Libertad as a potential nursing home. This was one of the things God laid on my heart before the trip that I have not yet mentioned to you, waiting for the right time.”

I took a breath. Leaning back in my slow rocker, gazing at the blue sky above me, I smiled. God had plans, big plans, for me and this city and these people. But even so, I doubted the gentle voice inside me, afraid that I was mistaking my own voice for his.

In grace and truth, he met me in my doubting, in my quiet fears. And in his quiet way, he gave me a promise: 

“When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place” (Jeremiah 29:10).

I was content. I was at peace. God had brought me to the jungle of northern Peru to experience him. His grace. His people. His heart. And I was so privileged to soak it up–all of it–and let it water my soul.

…

My remaining days in IQT were spent assimilating the Peruvian atmosphere–all the sights, all the sounds, all the smells. And as we went into the marketplace, the Amazon, the hospital, the church, and the streets of IQT, an overwhelming and simple peace rested in my heart and mind. He had made known to me the path of life, and in the presence of the King there was fullness of joy. I was enveloped in His fullness.

“For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.”

John 1:16

The Motokar

Put both feet down,

Flat on the floor of the Motokar.

Feel the vibration of its little motor.

Let it swell in your legs, your chest, your throat.

Let it enter your soul.

Move you, change you, shake you.

And when the vibrations cease,

The echoes of its rattling will keep you

Until you return,

Feet flat, hair down, heart full.

#cavaliernation

I am thankful for my story.

I am thankful for every microscopic particle of it. I am thankful for the good days, the okay days, the I-am-so-upset-about-life-I-just-want-to-be-alone-and-cry days. Each of them has been important and influential. Each of them has been necessary in shaping me.

I hate change.

I hate change and I love my comfort zone, as most of us humans do. But sometimes, oftentimes, all the times, God has better adventures for us than those we might find in our comfortable places. For Christianna Hines, the most secure setting was home and the most fearful was public school. And God knew that. So he called me to Chillicothe High in my junior year. And it was the best worst experience I have yet known. I characterize it as the best worst experience because last year was incredibly difficult, creating and uncovering many insecurities in me. But senior year has been insanely incredible; it has been my reward. Because of the memories and friendships made this year, I am content and confident.

At Chillicothe High School, I was given a space in which to learn as a student and grow as an individual. For this gift, I can never say thank you enough to Mr. Fisher, GP, Mad, Ms. Houts, X, Shelbywilburn, @Kelpie_c, Giraffe, and so so so many others. Thank you. Thank you for being my coaches, cheerleaders, champions, comrades. Thank you for encouraging me to grow tall into the light of God’s grace.

And to my Father.

I am pretty sure all you could do was shake your head two years ago when I was kicking and screaming about public school. I think you were saying, “Girl, if you only knew the great big plans I have for you on the road ahead; you wouldn’t be fighting so hard.” I was unaware of the people and experiences I would find at Chillicothe–all of which you made possible. Thank you for not allowing me to give up and run back home. Thank you for being faithful and good when I was faithless and angry.

I am a better person because of the best people on planet earth. They are the students, teachers, and staff of Chillicothe High School. I was recently reminded by one of them that being the “best” doesn’t mean “perfect”; it just means these people are pretty awesome at being human. I am thankful to have grown into and occupied a space in the Class of 2016 these past two years. God is so good and so faithful, and for that, I am grateful. Thank you, #cavaliernation, for giving me citizenship, and a high school experience that changed me for the best.

“I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart;

I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.

2 I will be glad and exult in you;

I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.”

Psalm 9:1 & 2