As I mentioned several posts ago, my next hard thing is this thing called “Revive.”  

And, with a new challenge comes a new blog; check it out at http://asierramist.blogspot.com/.  I mean, if you want to. 

This means that I’ll be posting on that site instead of this one, at least until I enter another new chapter.  So, I bid The Sierra Paige a find adieu, for the time being. 

Be seeing you!

I’m really sorry to all of you who have come to this site hoping to find information about the television show, “England Idol.”  If that’s what you’re looking for, allow me to redirect you here, the the homepage for “Britain’s Got Talent”.

I learned, long ago, that Jesus should not only be your first priority, but should be the very center of your life, so that everything else you do is oriented around Him–His will, His plan, His word.  Then, according to this model, as long as God is at the center, everything else in your life will radiate from this; in other words, whatever’s at the center of your life influences–nay, even dictates–everything else. 

This morning, I was reminded of this model and its implications, and I had to ask myself a hard question:  what dictates my life?  What determines my next move?  Is it God?  Or something else?

I’m ashamed to say that, recently, it has been something else.  Instead of asking myself, when I make important decisions, “Is this what God would have me do?”, I’ve been guilty of asking, far more frequently, “Will this further my cause to eventually return to England?”

Making this realisation has also prompted me to establish the definition of an idol.  Until now, I’ve generally considered an idol to be something you prayed to, usually a statue.  (I mean, honestly, isn’t that what most of us think of when the word comes up?)  But I discovered, just today, that idols are not limited to objects; an idol is anything that takes the place of God at your life’s center–anything that usurps His throne, in theological terms.  Whatever dictates your life, if it is not God, is an idol. 

Once you’ve found it out, however, you may have to do something about it–cleanse the temple, if you will.  For me, this meant removing anything in my room that reminded me of England:  the British flag Beanie Baby, a London bookmark, my map of England, even my tea and electric kettle, all had to go–for a time.  I changed my Internet homepage from the BBC to Revive; my desktop no longer displays a picture of Kingston, but WinterJam; and my screen saver is no long Wallace and Gromit, but some of the lyrics to “Healer” (“I believe You’re my portion.  I believe You’re more than enough for me.  Jesus, You’re all I need.”)  It’s up to you, in the end, to decide to what extent your life needs cleansing.  But I urge you, if you recognise any idols in your life, do not delay to take action against them!  God wants only what’s best for you. 

He IS my portion, and MORE than enough for me.  Jesus is all I need.

I bet you’re looking at the front, with the presidential portrait of George Washington and the treasurer’s John Hancock.  Turn it over, if you will, and note the banner, top-and-centre.

How ironic that it reads “In God we trust”!

And how fantastic!  What a timely reminder!  Because so often I find myself guilty of forgetting God and stressing over money.  I worry about fulfilling God’s plan because I don’t see the funding becoming available.  I worry about groceries for the last few weeks of school because I find my bank account dwindling at an alarming rate.  I worry about a summer job because I feel it necessary for my future financial security.  And I worry about Revive because I find that the cost of doing it well definitely exceeds the college student budget.

In short, I find myself focusing on the problem and forgetting the Provider.  But, thank God, He reminded me this morning of that tiny, monumental phrase printed on the very paper that constitutes so much of my concerns; He reminded me of the dollar bill. 

“In God I trust.  I will not be afraid.”

On a completely unrelated-to-anything note, I realised just this morning (afternoon, rather) that Josh Groban’s album, Closer, is undoubtedly my soundtrack to spring.   

This is not to say, exactly, that every time I listen to it, I think of spring; but, when I do listen to it in spring, it fits perfectly.  I attribute this phenomenon to the spring of my junior–or was it my sophomore year?–in high school, when it was first released.  That was the year we were painting our kitchen, and what better music to paint to than Josh Groban?  I especially enjoyed painting to the Italian songs, because one could imagine that she was in Italy painting a masterpiece–not that that’s ever been a real goal of mine, but when painting one must somehow occupy the mind. 

At least, I think this all happened in the spring. 

Whatev.

Something like this would sure be neat.  Maybe someday…

I’d have to say that the last really hard thing I did was to study abroad.

And, really, it’s taken me this long to get over it.

But now, I’m ready to move on to the next hard thing: leading Revive’s Media/Creative Team.

Never heard of Revive? Well, then, friend, allow me to explain: Revive is the brainchild of Aaron Peters, a college friend of mine who felt a calling last semester to create a summertime event for middle- and high-school students which they could attend for FREE (that’s key. ) with the purpose of evangelising the cities of Greensboro, High Point, and Winston-Salem. So, in the summer of 2010 we’re hosting three week-long conferences during the day which will include small-group breakout sessions and large-group worship experiences. One week in each city. For free. Check it out the website.

This is my next hard thing. What’s yours?

Really, they can all be summed up in one word:  live.

I’m not the first person to consider this point, of course.  Philosophers and deep-thinkers have been mulling it over long before I was born.  And I probably wouldn’t even mention it if I hadn’t seen an advertisement in the lean-to of a bus station overseas.  It was obviously aimed at young folk, and it read “Don’t die before you’ve lived.” 

I like it.  I appreciate the fact that someone is reminding young folks not only to be careful and not do anything irrevocably stupid, but that they really could do great things with their lives.  I could just feel the high-school teacher welling up inside of me as I seconded that message.

But, one of the tricky things about “living” is that most people don’t know what they’re living for.  Even if they’ve had a career chosen for them since they were four years old, they just don’t get the point.  And, sometimes, even if you know exactly what 10 things you feel that you have to do before you die, it’s not enough.

Case in point:  I have always been fascinated by the horizon.  It’s pretty much my favourite part of any beach.  And I remember, even years before the idea of studying abroad in England had crossed my mind, looking at that elusive horizon and desperately wanting to see what was on the other side. 

(Pretend with me, for a moment, that directly across the ocean from North Carolina is not Spain, but England, and you will know some of what I felt.  Though Spain is probably a lovely place, too.)

And I said to myself, “Self, if you could just see what the land across the ocean is like, I think you’d be happy.”

Well, friends, I have seen it, and I really am happy–but not completely.  Because, you see, the horizons don’t end here.  Instead, England has its own horizons, and sometimes one thinks that if she could just see what’s beyond that hill, or that corner, or that building–then she’d be happy.

The world is round.  There will always be more horizons to chase, no matter where you go.  Because living is not about going places and seeing things; you can go a lot of places and see a lot of things and never have lived, see.  If I may risk sounding cliche, living is all about dying.  Not in a physical sense, of course–but yes, I mean spiritually.  Until we have completely surrendered ourselves to Jesus Christ and allow Him to live through us, thus dying to our old, sinful selves, we will never live the abundant life that He desires for us.  Because, until that happens, we’re still trying to live by a set of rules–whether Christian or not–in order to be “good.”  Once we begin living in the will of Christ, however, the rules no longer matter because Christ’s will is perfect–so we’re free to really live. 

I don’t pretend that I have yet achieved this goal.  Yes, I live a blessed life, certainly, and there are certainly times when I feel abundant indeed!  But there’s still that sinful nature inside me that battles with the Christ in me, and I am far from perfect.  But I strive for the goal that is ahead and seek to glorify my God with my imperfect life, because I don’t want to die before I’ve lived out His purpose in it.

The other day, I was reading through Genesis 12, which happens to be about Abraham (still Abram at this point) and his calling.  Many of us have heard how God told him to leave his family and go to “the land that I will show you,” which most of us would consider vague instructions at best.  And we’ve heard how it took great faith for Abram to do so, and how he left behind his family and his position and everything familiar to wander around until God gave further instructions. 

“Wandering” might not be the best word to use, though, because verse 5 gives a direction to their journey:  Canaan.  Perhaps he went that way because his father had begun the journey some years earlier, but had stopped in the land of Haran and died there (11:31-32).  Whatever the reason, once they got there, God announces that the land of Canaan will belong to Abram’s offspring–which I thought nothing of until I reached the next chapter, where in verse 15 God gives land not only to Abram’s offspring, but to him as well–the same land, mind you.  This caused me to wonder why He hadn’t mentioned Abram in the first place.

Of course, I may never know for certain the real reason, but based on what the Bible says I can make an educated guess based on Genesis 12:10:  I suspect that God did not immediately give Abram his land because of the famine.  God knew that Abram wouldn’t be able to stay there indefinitely right then.  So He made a promise for the indefinite future:  “your descendents will have this land.”

It’s only after the famine has ended, presumably, and Abram has returned to his descendents’ land, that God makes his share implicit:  “this land is for you and your descendents.”  Abram just had to wait out the famine.

So I’m thinking that sometimes we have to do the same.  Sometimes we receive a calling on our lives that doesn’t come to fruition immediately, and usually God doesn’t tell us just how long it’s going to take for the famine to be over.  The good news is that God keeps His promises, and if He’s leading you somewhere vague, He’ll get you there eventually.  You may just have to wait out a famine.

How dare I say that something is impossible?

I discovered the gross error of my ways the other day when I was lamenting ever seeing my British friends again.  “Why, it’s impossible that I shall see them again,” I said to myself.  Almost immediately, I realized that that’s not what God claims, and by believing such a thing I have been, in effect, limiting God.

Granted, that is but a small matter, especially compared to things like world peace and curing cancer.   But my mind sometimes works better on a small scale.  Funny, I wonder if that’s why I sometimes pray small.

What seems impossible in your life? 

And how would your life be different if it were really possible?