What happened to Christmas?

Christmas is right around the corner, but it doesn't really feel like it. Here I am in Indiana hanging out with my parents and waiting for the snow to come, for the anticipation to build, for the Christmas specials to start dominating the airwaves, for anything familiar to occur. So far it hasn't hit me. What is it I'm really waiting for anyway? Perhaps the impact of the birth of a king?

What must it have been like for the shepherds that night; the night Christ was born? I imagine they settled in for another night just like the last and just like the one before that one. Their heads were probably bobbing as they dozed and then pulled themselves out of sleep only to nod off again seconds later. How exciting can watching sheep be anyway? They probably felt a little like I do: indifferent.

Then, with the explosion of angelic chorus, their nights took an unbelievable turn. The messiah for whom they had been waiting for along with thousands of years worth of ancestors now long gone was finally there. I can't imagine the emotions roaring from the very core of their beings unparalleled by the emotions of any subsequent Christmas morning. How can I so flippantly travel through the Christmas season that commemorates God's taking on of flesh that He might reconcile mankind to Himself? God give me the grace to feel it in my core in a way that no Christmas tradition can communicate.

Perhaps sometime when I least expect it it will come crashing down on me with the weight of the event itself. Sometime, when I'm going about my business and attending to all the Christmas traditions that are often done from force of habit, I'll see it again for the first time and really understand what happened in a little town in the Middle East to make a motley bunch of shepherds join the chorus of angels and leave their sheep to see the Lamb of God with their own eyes. Oh come Emmanuel and remind this world-weary traveler of your boundless love manifest in human form!

In Loving Memory of My Grandma

My grandmother passed away on Sunday morning around 2:30, right after the time change. Mercedes Dorothy (Bloom) Wolner was taken into the arms of her Master to find peace, joy, and restoration for her body. Her parting wish was that all of us would "be happy" because she was happy to be going to see Jesus. Even while dying, her only thought was for us. This was the way she lived her life: serving her husband, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren with every fiber of her being. When she departed, the small community of St. James, Minnesota and everyone else who was ever touched by her loving heart (a heart that flowed through her soft, gentle hands) came out in droves to offer their sympathy and to honor the memory of a truly exceptional woman. With her death, she gave us all one final gift, drawing us together as a family to celebrate her life.

She was a dove. I cannot really express what she meant to me, because I am only now, in her absence, truly realizing it to the fullest degree, and my soul groans within me in the wake of this loss. Even as far away as she lived for most of my life, she still was able to express her love in powerful ways that evade description. Her smiles contained fountains of unconditional love and joyful pride in each member of her family. Her eyes twinkled with life and strength. Her arms warmed the very core of me every time she gave me a hug. Her home was always a safe haven from the troubles of the world.

The last time I spoke to her was a rain-soaked Wednesday evening last week. Though she was slipping away and seemed to know it, she focused all of her energy upon talking to me. For those five minutes, I was the only one in her universe. She told me she loved me and that she was going to Jesus soon. I told her I loved her and that she inspired me.

Saturday, I saw her again. This time for the last time. She was silent there, lying on the hospital bed in a morphine-induced sleep. I sat next to her, holding her hand in mine. Those same soft hands that had served four generations of my family rested limply in my own. A few hours later she was gone.

Wheaton and the End of the World!

It would appear that my college has become the locus of every pre-millenialist's nightmare. They could film a Left Behind film here with all the strange things that have been happening. Basically, we've been utterly hammered by what appear for all practical purposes to be plagues.

It all started with a case of the Mumps. Rumor has it that their was a fondue party in one of the dorms, and as luck would have it, one of the participants had the Mumps. Yes... the Mumps. That mythical disease that the MMR shot we all get before kindergarten is supposed to stop. That virus that sounds like it should come from a Dr. Seuss book [Mumps with lumps on frumpy teenage hephalumps go bump in the dark] or perhaps should be evidenced by some kind of painful hives [I don't know... like boils perhaps?] Yep, that disease has now infected 82 students here on campus!

Then, a week ago Tuesday, we had the flood of the century. An article in our school newspaper quite aptly said it almost turned us into "the Atlantis of evangelical Christian schools." Several cars were totaled, the BGC parking lot was four feet deep in water [that's enough to swim in! which a lot of people did.], an entire floor was evacuated and still hasn't been made suitable for the guys to come back yet.

Yesterday morning, it snowed! It snowed on October 12th! When has it ever snowed on October 12?!!!! But it sure did yesterday morning in broad daylight. [Kinda reminded me of another miracle. Gee... perhaps the hail with fire. O.k. so maybe it's a stretch, but gimme a break, I'm trying to build my case here!]

On top of all this, the electrical system has been on the fritz for the last few days. Coming on for five minutes only to go back off again. Soon we're gonna be immersed in utter darkness for several days like the plague!

When talking with one of my friends about this whole thing, I discovered that someone on campus actually has the CPO box # 666 and she's a transfer no less! I'll just leave you to make the inferences.

So basically, Wheaton College is Armageddon. Forget all you heard about that battlefield in Israel, it's gonna happen right here, and soon! Be Afraid! Be very Afraid! Where is Kirk Cameron when you need him!!! Wait... Sam? Don't you know Kirk personally? Maybe you could send him our way for a couple weeks, huh?

Then again... maybe it's just global warming. ;-)

Zambian Orphans Choir

Chapel today was sobering and uplifting. A group of AIDS orphans from Zambia came to share their story and to sing for us. It is hard to put into words what I felt, because it was so overpowering. Each of them came from a broken background of loss, yet their outlooks were so positive and they were able to rejoice in their Heavenly Father's providence through their circumstances. Their voices had such a harrowing passion as they cried out to the One who had become their parents in the wake of their tremendous loss.

I have never heard the song "He Knows my Name" sung quite like one of the small boys sang it. From the depths of his soul, bursting forth from a well that had been emptied of the brokeness of his plight and filled with the Love of God. Imagine these words spilling forth in earnest with a lilting sorrow-forged joy:

I have a maker He formed my heart,
before even time began My life was in his hands

He knows my name He knows my every thought,
He sees each tear that falls and hears me when I call

I have a father, he calls me his own
He'll never leave me, no matter where I go

He knows my name He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls and hears me when I call
He knows my name He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls and hears me when I call

He knows my name He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls And hears me when I call
He hears me when I call

Words cannot do it justice, so I will draw this to a close. Only know that God has taken the overwhelming, incomparable sorrow of these AIDS orphans and has transformed it with the blood of His son that they may call Him father and rest securely in his arms of love! We should do likewise.

Power of Music

I wonder what gives music it's unique power over the human soul. It is one of those cross-generational, cross-cultural things that appeals to everyone. True, our tastes are often as varied as could be imagined, but there is something about the blending of melody and harmony that can capture us like nothing else.

I just read an article in the Chicago Tribune about surgeons who play music in the operating room. It has been proven to help calm the surgeon's nerves during the surgical procedure and seems to contribute to the healing process for the patient. Something about it resonates with the human soul.

Music often makes or breaks a movie depending on how it is utilized. Imagine a movie without music. A few directors have tried it and the result is usually a minimalistic effect that lends a cold, gritty feel. The opposite is also done with horrendous result, i.e. music that forces the viewer to feel a certain emotion when it is not merited or earned by what is displayed on the screen. Awful coercion that is to art like a frying pan to the face.

Yet when it's done right, it can be so incredibly powerful and gripping. My mom often tells a story of her pregnancy with me when she watched the Natural starring Robert Redford. If you have never seen it, it is basically the story of the redemption of a baseball player as he matures through the mistakes of his youth. Anyway, the climatic moment is a homerun with wonderful, crescendoing music that rises with the ball and truly augments the action on the screen. My mom was so into the moment that she must have gotten a shock of adrenaline, which startled me in the womb. She says I really kicked her hard. Would that scene have had the same effect without the music? Probably not.

Good music is a blessing akin to a gorgeous sunset. It infuses the soul with a shot of transcendant espresso and carries us off to a world where each note finds its place in the tapestry of the song where it caresses the ears with liquid beauty. Then there are the songs that cannot be heard without an accompanying foot tap or full body swerve. What other essence can make one act like a fool and not care what others think for five uninterrupted minutes? What other thing can unleash the real person who often hides behind a thick facade?

I don't know about you, but I feel like busting out some moves!

Seniority

Recently, I woke up and discovered I was a senior in college. Not only that...I am almost 22. The year 2007 once seemed so far away, but now it has come screaming in upon me like a runaway roller coaster, and I am left to ponder this new, mysterious place where I have been jettisoned. Could you expect anything else from a blog with the title "Musings?"

Many of my closest friends are now dating, engaged, married, or pregnant and I can no longer delay the unfolding of my own personal bildungsroman, (i.e. "coming of age" story for those uninitiated into the secret world of English majors). I have to chuckle as I try to keep the sand of my childhood from trickling out between my clenched fingers only to see it spill faster. I catch myself looking at a new batch of freshman and grining inwardly at their wide-eyed observation of their surroundings, like infants fresh from the womb taking in a new world. Wasn't I just one of them?!

Even now I must smile at the saccharine angst of this post. How funny I must sound to the weathered adults reading this post with so much more life experience behind them, trading knowing glances about the budding adult whose life has only just begun, If he only knew...
At the same time I have caught a glimpse of reality that feeds my hungry curiosity and tells me more than can be expressed here.

What of the girl on Wheaton in England whose path crossed mine for a brief span and then blinked away to a separate part of the universe like a comet circling the sun?...

What of the death of cultural icons, having braved countless jaws of crocodiles only to be silenced in the enveloping deep by a startled sting ray?...

What of carefree days where the only thing on the calendar was an afternoon of playground football?...

What of greying heads that once carried the world on broad shoulders giving way to a new generation of the young who rise and dip falteringly on new-formed wings?...

What of vibrant imaginations and dreams sobered by the contracting influence of adult reality?...

What of fears that no longer have a place and are quieted out of necessity, weaned by responsibility?...

Life is made up of changing seasons carrying us on in the current of time. There is much joy to be had and much sorrow to be weathered. Life is a gift we are given; it is ours to hold like a delicate snow globe, carefully between two hands, but never with reservation.

Oxford is Where it's at!

Made it to Oxford today, and to ready internet access. So...I thought I might scribble alittle. England has been wonderful so far; a lifetime of experiences bundled into two weeks to the degree that I am beginning to understand what the Psalmist meant when he wrote "My cup runneth over." London brought me all the sights I expected and introduced me to true theatre. You haven't seen one until you've seen one in London. Then there was the Southern Excursion which brought me what Dr. Ryken loves to call the "archetypal sublime." Tintagel (pictured to the left), the legendary birthplace of King Arthur, blew Lake Superior out of the water and gave Hawaii a run for its money. I have never seen such a beautiful sunset nor hiked such lush hills to look out over the Atlantic Ocean or on a small English oceanside town with a castlelike Camelot Hotel perched on the cliffs. Simply breathtaking. In short, I was undone. Now I am in Oxford, the archetypal college town with its grand buildings and glorious past. I am so thrilled that I went on this trip and look forward to the things to come.

three days 'til liftoff

Well here we are. Three days and counting until I jump the puddle and begin my tour of England. Between then and now I have a toast to write (for my roomate and his wife), clothes to wash, packing to do, a paper to put the finishing touches on, and various other odds and ends. I am incredibly excited about the possibilities for this summer!