Unguarded Earnestness

When Jesus says to “let the little children come to me,” He seems to be calling His followers to certain attractive “child-like” qualities – humility, wonder, joy and unguarded earnestness.

In anticipation of the Global Prayer Gathering, IJM staff have corporately been considering the idea of entering next weekend in a posture of Unguarded Earnestness. What does that mean? What does it look like? I think of “earnestness” as utmost sincerity, approaching something with the fullest intention of doing it well or treating someone with lavish kindness. Perhaps you’ll still mess up, but your intentions and efforts reflect a desire to give your all.

For me, “unguarded” is the scarier part. That translates to straight-up vulnerability – being totally open, able to be at best molded into a truer reflection of Christ and at worst trampled upon, left seriously hurt and wounded.

It’s that vulnerable sincerity, though, that turns prayers into true faithfulness. When we approach the Father, our prayers should not only be honest and genuine, but our petitions should be, as we say at IJM, crazy pants prayers – “big, hairy, audacious” ones that only a loving Father far more powerful than ourselves could answer. There is no way we could make that prayer happen without God, so we come to Him fully dependent, with unguarded earnestness, faithfully believing that He not only hears our prayers but answers them also.

I’ve been thinking about the way unguarded earnestness could transform more than our prayers. What about everyday life? Our actions toward others, our work, our after school activities or the strength of our relationships would all be transformed! It looks like having an “all-in” attitude, combining the belief that what you do matters and not allowing anything to hold you back from giving it your full efforts. Giving friends your full attention because they matter more than the task at hand demonstrates your value for them. Not half-assing a project because you believe that your contribution makes a difference. Believing you can break 20 minutes in your next 5K or that you can make a goal at the next game brings more diligence and purpose to your practice. Even in a relationship conflict or marital problem – wholeheartedly devoting yourself to righting wrongs because you believe that the other person is worth it. All of this from a posture of unguarded earnestness.

At the same time, we don’t want to be “childish” – foolish, immature, irresponsible, unstable, silly or naive. If I run a 25 minute 5K, just hoping that it will be 20 minutes next week would be irrational. There are nearly 30 million slaves today. Praying that injustice will be eradicated tomorrow would show a lack of analysis and reason. Just imagine Stephen Colbert and Tina Fey making fun of the Global Prayer Gathering. Right. 1200+ people are going to get together and pray, and as you stand there and worship the sky, people will be brought out of bondage. Ha!

It’s easy to be cold-hearted and have fears of judgment of being naive about very serious, big issues. But the posture changes the approach. If we approach prayer or our everyday life issues with the child-like quality of unguarded earnestness, we come knowing that prayer does work and our interactions with others will shift. We come desperately needing Jesus’ grace and abundant life. We come eager and expectant for His power, attentive to Him and fully devoted; strengthened, refreshed, fully present and utterly grateful for every good gift the Holy Spirit gives. We’re not worshiping the sky. We’re worshiping a God with an unchanging character – One who for all eternity has heard the cries of His children and longs to bring life and freedom. 

Return to Roanoke

I’ve had some important revelations lately.

1.  My first year of college would have been hard no matter where I went to school*, because I was sheltered and needed to learn to live on my own. It just so happens that freshman year was at Roanoke, so bad associations were built from the beginning.
2. I have grown and developed a lot in the last two years, and – get this – I AM STOKED TO RETURN TO ROANOKE!!! Can we just get a few really passionate hoorays over that, because it is a miracle in itself.

How did all of this come about? A few weeks ago, I headed down to the University of Richmond for the weekend and reunited with Abby, my roommate and soul sister from Italy last semester. Our Sunday afternoon together was one of those unbelievably perfect spring days – not an ounce of humidity, the perfect dose of sunshine, and the fancy free feeling that only a trashed to-do list brings. Throwing the Frisbee, an a capella group practicing fifty yards away, the whole scene felt fake. But real it was; the stereotypical college brochures of pristine campuses and a group of diverse, smiling students that flooded my mailbox toward the end of high school came to life before me.

After a few months of my “grown-up” life in DC, with grocery shopping and cooking and commuting and eight hours in front of sedentary computer use, my outlook on college began to shift on U of R’s back quad.  I hadn’t been on a campus in nearly a year, and I realized what a privilege it is to be in college, particularly at a small, liberal arts school like Richmond or Roanoke. Returning the Frisbee to Abby, it was like I relinquished the negative feelings I’ve held against Roanoke for the past two years – the stress of piling on classes and striving for As, of hundreds of pages of reading and long nights cranking out papers, the deep loneliness of friends two states away. It wasn’t all bad, but something isn’t right when you dread returning to school after every break.

Throwing that Frisbee without any lingering papers or deadlines, though, I realized just how awesome and easy a college student’s life is. Not only do I have three delicious meals provided for me every day, but it’s my job to learn. Sure, it can be stressful and challenging. It certainly stretches one’s abilities, but that’s far better than mindless monotony. I get to go to class. I’m required to dig into questions through deeper research. I have countless professors who know me personally and care for me. Everything is in one spot. We’re showered with opportunities to attend lectures and participate in fun, free weekend activities. I’m encouraged to join clubs I like and spend time with friends. What a life!

The night before, we stopped by a frat party for a few minutes*. I’m comfortable enough in these environments now, but I certainly wasn’t comfortable with sticky, beer-spilled floors and hammered people as an impressionable 18-year-old. I steered far clear and never even went to one party freshman year. Inevitably, a divide developed between my classmates and me freshman year, and I was labelled the goody-good, albeit silently and without hostility. I’m still good, but I’m also 21, and alcohol and Greek life don’t scare me like they used to.

Nor do Yankees. While we’re at it, let’s just lay it all out on the table. Richmond and Roanoke’s student body both have a strong draw from New England. Few people say “y’all” and even fewer hold the door. I have amazing friends at home, and I had a tough time connecting with people who held different values and came from a variety of backgrounds freshman year. After my time in Cambodia and Italy, anyone who is American seems like me. The differences just aren’t that significant anymore.

After a few weeks to digest the realizations I had in Richmond, I made it down to Roanoke this past weekend, primarily to visit my best friend Kayla. Sadly, Kayla is a senior and I won’t have her around next year, but I’m still looking forward to returning for one more year of learning. My visit was kind of a litmus test to prove if the lessons from Richmond held true, and indeed they did. I have never been more excited to eat the prepared endless supplies of food brunch offered in Commons – Omelettes! Bagels! Waffles! A salad bar!!

There was also a folk duo playing that evening (one of hundreds of events sponsored by the school), and Saturday night I danced for hours downtown at a live performance of Folk Soul Revival. Top that off with a long hike, and I was reminded of one of the main reasons I chose Roanoke to begin with – it has the rare combination of a thriving city and the backwoods draw of Appalachian Mountain culture and adventure. Next year I will be setting aside the homework for the festivals and trails. I want to be Contra dancing, flat footing and enjoying bluegrass folk at its finest, and also mountain biking, white water rafting, skiing, backpacking, and rock climbing every chance I get.

Even though Kayla won’t be around, I still have plenty of community at Roanoke. I saw loads of friends, worshiped at Restoration, and hung out with my favorite adopted family, the Yertons.

By the grace of God and a lot of growing experiences, I will be returning to Roanoke as a transformed individual this fall. I am so thankful for my professional DC experience, and I'm thankful it's not over yet, but I have the rest of my life to be a grown up. I have one more year to be in college, and nothing – not a heavy class load, not an Honor’s thesis, not the loss of a best friend’s presence – is going to stop me from appreciating every moment.

---

*With the exception of perhaps Clemson, where I likely would’ve stayed in a comfortable bubble

**Disclaimer: I write this to be honest and also prove a point, but I’d like to throw out that this was officially only the second frat party I’ve been to in my three years as a college student. I’ve decided this is a good thing. If you are a senior in high school, I strongly recommend that you check it out from the very beginning of college, realize that your time is likely better spent elsewhere, and revert to movies and slumber parties on a calm Saturday night, confident in your weekend choices.

That's a lot of class time and a LOT of papers. But I get to be a student.

Folk Duo Friday night

Look at all those things happening at Roanoke!

Kayla, one of the best gals around

WHAT?!! Tinker Cliffs and the Shenandoah Valley

St. Patty's Day festivities

Meet Eric the bagpipe player. One of our goals was to take a picture with a man wearing a kilt. Success!

Folk Soul Revival

BRUNCH!

Love this church

Tessa Yerton is the cutest. Nothing like a family away from home.

This is what a 90-year-old Southern grandma sounds like...

My grandmother, Mary Ellen Cain Compton, is a force to be reckoned with. Nicknamed "Sugah Cain" in her early years because she was so sweet, she is more commonly known simply as "Sug" now. She grew up in Sumter, South Carolina; raised five children in Summerville; and after being widowed over thirty years ago, found retirement community at the Presbyterian Home. She is Southern as Southern gets, and as she climbs into her nineties, an increased love for wine and an irrational, yet pleasant and endlessly entertaining humor has replaced the strict manners and stubbornness she was infamous for in her earlier years.

Kizzy, one of her fantastic round-the-clock caretakers, passed along one such incident.

Sug:     Call my mom so I can tell her goodnight.
Kizzy:  Ms Sug, your mother is in Heaven.
Sug:     Myyyyy mom is not in Heaven. She's in Sumter. You don't know what you're talking about.
Kizzy:  Ms Sug, you are 90 years old, so it would be impossible for your mom to be alive...So if you are 90,            how old would that make your mom?
Sug:    94. Now get out of my blessed room.

Oh, my dear grandmother. As long as you're on her good side, you can't help but love her.

Lenten Season

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry.

Matthew 4:1-2

Often times, Lent becomes a shortened, more attainable version of New Year’s Resolution Round 2. I am certainly guilty of this. Even if my small sacrifice is a genuine offering to God, it is rather convenient to be “giving up sweets” just before the weather warms up and the bathing suits come out.

For forty days, we deny ourselves just as Christ did. We are tempted, just as He was, and in our fasting, we call upon Him for strength and sustenance. We prepare our hearts for the greatest miracle of all time – the God of the universe rising from the dead. The point is not to have an excuse to shed three pounds. We give something up that we are attached to, that we value. In its absence our focus not only turns back to the Lord, but is also sharpened and clarified.

Living in a state in which my community has been shifting just about every three months, I have become far too connected to social media. Facebook and Instagram allow me to stay in touch with people I can’t see in person – kind of (Phone calls are much more authentic and effective). They’re also my go-to distractions when I’m bored or procrastinating. I’ve even resorted to watching TV, something I’ve rarely done in the past. These are not bad things, but, minor as they may seem, they have become idols in my life. Most of the time I don’t even realize it, but I use them to fill a piece inside of me that I should be allowing God to fill.

Tonight I spontaneously joined some interns for an incredible few hours of worship at National Community Church. I’ve been planning on giving up Facebook for Lent, but this time of prayer allowed me to really consider the value and meaning of Lent. “You deserve all my worship. You deserve all my praise,” one song went, and I really sensed a call to deeper sacrifice and discipline. Along with Facebook, I will be fasting from all forms of media entertainment this year. I’m also going to be spending an hour in scripture every day – 30 minutes when I first wake up using the 40 Days of Lent study, and another half hour during stillness at work meditating and memorizing the Sermon on the Mount. We’re still talking first-world sacrifices here, but I will certainly need the Lord to help me through this Lenten season. Jesus was hungry in the wilderness, and then He was tempted. I will have urges both to log on to Facebook and to skip out on a devotional. I hope these days leading to Easter will be ones of deep spiritual growth, and for that to happen, the idols still standing between my Redeemer and me must be cleared away.

Mandatory

Most people, including myself, are not fans of being forced to do anything. What you would have happily completed voluntarily all of a sudden becomes a chore - an obligatory hassle - that must be done by a certain date. Just consider a book in high school that you had to read for class. For your 17 year old self, practice and movies and friends are all much higher priorities. You skim through the book, rely on Sparknotes, BS the paper, and make it through the test. The following summer you're hanging out with a childhood friend and on the bedside table is the same book. He loves it. Why? He's reading it by choice, and that makes all the difference. The joy is usurped by the requirement to read.

There is a reason rules and mandatory obligations are put in our lives. Most of the time, they really are in our best interest. I have found that to be particularly true this semester. LCWS has quite a few requirements for students to accomplish by the end of the semester. Along with our weekly field trips, we also must complete 12 hours of community service as well as attend a committee hearing and a protest or demonstration. I'm a go-getter, and I like to seize the day, but I know I wouldn't be doing these things otherwise. I probably wouldn't even be making time for service, which is something I am quite passionate about doing. The reality is, by the end of the workday, I'm wiped. All I want to do is scavenge for some dinner and chill.

But alas, I am rarely vegging on the couch. Though I may gripe beforehand, I have typically found myself enjoying these outings and learning a lot. Yesterday, I observed my first protest. Hundreds of young environmental hippies marched from Georgetown University to the White House to oppose the Keystone XL Pipeline. Though they chanted "Hey Obama we don't want no pipeline drama," but they were certainly creating a social movement ruckus themselves. If constructed, this underground pipe would carry over 830,000 barrels of crude oil from Canada to the Gulf Coast. According to the protesters, it would have detrimental effects on the environment.

I'm not a very political person, but it was really fascinating to watch all of this play out. Regardless of one's leanings, the fact that Americans have the right to gather and speak out against the leader of our country is pretty astounding. I heard it was the largest protest in front of the White House in years. What's more, hundreds of them also zip-tied themselves to the White House fence in protest and were then arrested. Actions like that, where a real sacrifice is required, speak louder than the rhetoric of the speeches and chants like "President Obama just say no, XL Pipeline's got to go," catchy as it may be. They practiced civil disobedience at its finest, and for that, I admire them. I even think the president may be influenced by their actions. Also, most of the time I am so ill-informed about current events. It's a neat feeling to see something unfold in front of your eyes that will be on the news later that night.

Here was another not-so-admirable observation, though. Many of the protesters dawned grungy clothing and were a few days overdo on a shower. Others were smoking pot throughout the march. During the civil rights movement, African Americans donned their finest church clothes to march. At work, we're required to professional suits, our "costume of credibility." I acknowledge that this look  is part of the stereotypical culture of this green demographic, but their appearance detracted from their message.

Intimidation factor

Then, there are the mandatory weekly field trips. For my Global Agenda class this past Wednesday, we went to the Heritage Foundation to listen to a lecture titled Fighting Terrorism under the Rule of Law: The Israeli Experience. You can imagine how excited I was about this. But once again, it was absolutely fascinating. Israel is the only democratic nation in its region, and it is faced with some serious military strategy challenges when fighting against countries who do not play by the same rules.

Colonel Eli Bar-On
Deputy Military Advocate General, Israeli Defense Force

Later on that day, the whole group visited N Street Village. This kind of thing actually does excite me. People are able to love, serve, and empower those in worse circumstances than themselves. That is awesome, and N Street Village does it well. Cheery and bright, the walls were decorated with crafts made by the women who visit or live there.

Then there is plain old mandatory school. I wasn't quite as enthralled researching and writing about workers' rights and consumer empowerment this past weekend, but even here there were some pros. It was the first legitimate paper I've written since, oh, last April, so it was rough going at first. I confess, though, it was kind of nice to grease the academic wheels and really learn something new.

 So I encourage you, at your own pace, go back and find that high school book. If you are anything like me, you just might enjoy it after all.

Post-Script: That is snow, again. I think I have mild Seasonal Affective Disorder. I am sick and tired of winter, and Virginia officially has its own bipolar issues. Seriously. It is March. In Charleston, it is currently 66 degrees, over double the current temperature here. I'd like to walk outside on a pleasant day, please.