Katie Rousopoulos

I met Katie Rousopoulos for the first time at Joe’s Montana Grill in Indianapolis. I was sitting there eating dinner with my sister, who’d come down to Indy to visit me for a weekend. She saw her friend Katie and her family sitting close to us and called her over when they got up to leave. We were introduced and I remember thinking that she was a strong, outgoing person. The following year, as I returned to Taylor as an assistant Residence Director, I got to know Katie much better. She was a senior, but was asked to be a part of the professional staff due to her tremendous maturity and capability as an RA the year before. We then spent the following two years as members of the same cohort of MAHE students.

Katie’s the kind of friend everyone needs because she’s the kind of person who will not let your friendship be one sided. For as long as I’ve known her, I’ve always seen her working to contribute to others in some way, shape, or form. For me, it’s been TONS of encouraging words. And that’s been good for me because I’m not one to necessarily take compliments very well. I usually try to avoid those sorts of situations, but she’s been so consistent in it that I’ve found myself much more open to accepting her compliments. Obviously, that’s a great way to make a person feel cared about.

Another important part about Katie is that she is Greek. I know, with a last name like Rousopoulos, that’s probably not all that surprising. Katie shares and celebrates her ethnic heritage more than any of my other friends. Two main avenues for this sharing are cooking and story telling. Whether she’s cooking or someone else is cooking, she always finds a way to share something about Greek culture through food. So Fun! Katie’s story about her family in the states and family who live in Greece are hilarious. I enjoy the subtle way that she can interject her cross-cultural experiences into conversations to add humor on the surface, but also to remind us that the way things work around me here are not necessarily the only way for things to work.

On that note, it is important to note that Katie is a world traveler. She’s obviously been to Greece, but also has spent time around Europe and China. She certainly has a passion for cross-cultural experience and how that can contribute to growth and maturity. I think her experiences abroad have fostered, in her, an authentic desire to understand others. Whether someone is older or younger, from a different cultural or social background, holds different opinions or the same, Katie genuinely wants to understand the people she’s around and what makes them different (though I am sure she’d describe us as unique; not different). What a joy it is to have a friend who I am so confident wants to know me. God Bless you Katie!

Ben Taylor

Ben Taylor is a good friend of not many years. I’ve known of Ben since my junior year of college. He lived in Morris Hall my last two years. He also led worship often in chapel. So, like many of the Taylor population, I was aware of him vaguely. However, it wasn’t really until the spring of my first year as an assistant hall director that we began to know one another personally. He was hired as one of the male PA’s for the CRAM program, of which, I was the hall director. In the three weeks of CRAM we forged a the foundations of a friendship that, though it lacks in longevity, has developed a depth and a comfort level that cannot be mistaken as anything but authentic friendship.

I would describe Ben as saying that he is equal parts theologian and goofball. This combination makes for a good friend, but also for an excellent resident director, which is his profession of the moment. Students love him because he transitions back and forth between these two parts almost effortlessly in a way that asks them to follow along. To which, I’ve seen many all to happy to oblige. And who can blame them? How many people do you know that you would consider a deep thinker? Now, of those, are there any who you would say don’t take themselves too seriously? Exactly. That’s what makes Ben such a magnetic personality.

My friendship with Ben has been characterized by arguing and laughing; challenging and supporting. Discussing things with him is refreshing, because he’s not put off by my analytical/rational thoughts. In the few years of our friendship, he’s picked me up and pulled out of one of the lowest points in my life. I think that our conversations and interactions have contributed to a higher level self-awareness. I give him a hard time about being the most ‘inclusive’ person that I’ve ever met. I’m convinced that there is not a person in this world that, if within his physical proximity when he’s about ready to go do something, he would not feel obliged to invite to come along with him. Even though I give him a hard time for it, I’ve gotten to know some wonderful people as a result of those sorts of situations.

It is ridiculous that I’ve gotten this far without mentioning that Ben Taylor is a musician, and I’m not talking about some high school punk rocker or college aged emo kid. Ben Taylor is legitimately, a musician. His affinity for music is contagious. Whether listening, playing, singing, or writing music, Ben embodies this artistic expression in a way that I can only dream about. I am instantly excited when I get a new song recommendation from him, which I, without questions, immediately buy off of iTunes. Ben went on a Farewell concert tour last spring, but I’m hoping that the band will get back together and start doing some shows around here one of these days. I mean, there’s only about a million coffee shops around here… Let's make it happen Ben.

Friends Profiles

In the weeks to come, I'm going to be having quite a few visitors. I'm very excited about seeing some old friends in the near future. Thus, in my time either preparing for their arrival or basking in the glow of good time recently spent with them, I think I'll write a blog post about each. This weekend Ben & Katie are coming to visit. Sometime in the following two weeks I plan on getting together with the Shorbs (they don't know this yet, but I'll let them know soon enough). I'm hoping that my dad comes to visit me for a long weekend thereafter. There's a big Fall Break road trip from Indiana out here to PA which will include, among others, Polly, Tower, and Missy. Finally, I am working on getting Barnett out here sometime in early November. So, let the friend profile posts begin.

Church 'shopping'

One of the few frustrating things in my life right now is finding a church to attend, often referred to as 'Church shopping'. I can't stand the term mostly because it alludes to a terribly consumeristic approach to church. Just like at the mall, we look for a church with a trendy pastor or where all the cool Christians are going or with a hip website. We can stop by, peruse the isles to see what they're selling and if it fits your style. If so, you can casually associate yourself enough to be cool too. If not, then you can peace out and look for somewhere else. No commitment necessary. Now, I know this could just be semantics. But I can't help but feel like I am doing exactly this. It's extremely frustrating!

At the root of the problem is that I simply cannot figure out what I'm supposed to be looking for. I think before I moved out here I felt confident about what I was looking for in a church. But now, I would be hard pressed to feel confident about any answer I would try to give you. Am I supposed to look for authentic worship? Expository preaching? a thriving congregation? a bunch of people my age? an active community? a comfortable environment? a focus on evangelism? missions? social justice? a place where I feel welcomed? challenged? encouraged? supported? a place where i can use my gifts? where my gifts are needed? Someone tell me just what it is that I'm supposed to be making my church decision on? I think the thing I’ve been looking for the most is preaching that is challenging and full of conviction. Whether this is right or wrong, I don’t know, but what I’m sure about is that none of the teaching I’ve sat under while I’ve been here has been anywhere near what I would call full of conviction. It’s made me wonder whether I should lower my expectations for fear that I’ll look forever without finding it.

At the end of the day, I’m confident that the pastors I’ve heard are disciples of Jesus, that the worship has been an honest offering to God, and that the congregations are likely full of followers of Jesus. Who knows, whether the week I attended each church was actually representative of what the church is or not. Maybe I’ve had a poor approach to my church attendance, which may have affected my ability to feel drawn to that particular body of believers. In no way am I trying to exact any judgment on any of the churches I’ve visited. I’m critiquing to whole process by which I’ve gone about all of this. I’m pretty sure I’ve gone about it all wrong, which is discouraging. Even more discouraging is the sense that if that’s true, then I’ve wasted about 2 months of Sundays trying to find a Church to plant myself in. And I’ve got no idea how I should go about doing things differently.

The times they are a Changin'

I graduated.... again. I now hold a Masters Degree in Higher Education. I realized just a few weeks ago that this makes me sound far more educated than I feel I am most of the time. All in all, I am content with how I ended things at Taylor. Spent a lot of quality time with quality people. Made a lot of intentional effort to put words to thoughts and feelings for people who've said and done so much for me. To tell the truth, I'm pretty pleased with myself for this. I think I would have expected to have foregone that sort of thing in the past, leading to regret and frustration later. But, hey, I guess I'm learning.

CRAM came and went for the 3rd year. This was a particularly challenging year, as human depravity and unbridled selfishness made themselves more clearly felt than in previous years. Though, learning happend. Students were challenged. And growth occured. Also, I made a bon fire out of my couch. Yes, finally (RIP), my mother can sleep more peacefully at night knowing that her baby boy is not being somehow infringed upon by her old sectional couch.

While at CRAM, I also got a job. From the end of school to CRAM I actually ended up being called in to 3 interviews. I went out to William Jessup in California, Indiana Wesleyan, 15 minutes down the road, and Eastern University, in Philadelphia, PA, which is where I am writing this post from. Never before have I experienced God's great providence at work so personally in my life than through this job search experience.

So, I packed up my crap into a U-haul on July 7th and drove the 11 hours out here with my parents to drop everything off, then jump back in the car and drive home so that I could attend Phil's wedding in Indy a few days later. That's right!!! PHIL GOT MARRIED! It was quite an experience and I'm so glad that I was able to push off the start date for my new job until after the wedding. There were lots of memories flooding my head as I sat through the wedding rehersal and the rehersal dinner. Phil is someone who will always hold a special place in my heart and it was great to see him so happy. At a time in my life when I get a front row seat to lots of guys getting married whom I'm incredibly skeptical about, Phil is a man whom I know will love his wife for the rest of his life in as close a fashion I can think of to how Jesus loves us all of our days. So, I shipped out to Philly directly after the reception. Needless to say, there were a few tears in my eyes.

And now here I am, sitting at the front desk of my building, Eagle Hall. We're the newest building on campus, which is nice. I've got 170 students. 2 floors of women and 1 floor of men. 8 RA's who have been another one of God's great blessings in my life recently. More about them later, I'm sure. Now, I'm gonna call it to a close so that I can go play ping pong with Zach, one of my RA's.

'bumps in the road'

Certainly Abraham was not expecting that God would command him to make a burnt offering of his son, Isaac (Genesis 22). I doubt that Joseph expected that, when he ran out to find his brothers that they would throw him into a cistern and then sell him into slavery (Genesis 37). Don’t you think that Moses was pretty surprised when he returned from Mt. Sinai, having spent time in the presence of Yahweh, to see that his people had created an idol to worship (Exodus 32)? We know that Job had no reason to believe that his life was about to be put to a supernatural test (Job 2). Or Shadrach, Meshach, & Abednego, did they see a fiery furnace in the cards for them (Daniel 3). Hosea must have been caught off guard when God directed him to love his adulterous wife again (Hosea 3). Habakkuk the prophet is exasperated by the idea that God would allow a godless people such as the Babylonians to decimate the Israelites, God’s chosen people (Habakkuk 1). The people of Israel were expecting a political revolutionary as a messiah, not the baby of a carpenter (Luke 2). Certainly this was a bit of a fiasco; a bump in the road you might say.
Here’s the thing about these accounts in the Bible, we see them all playing out well in the end for the characters involved and for the glory of God in the end. However, this is not the case for these people in the moments following their trials. Moses didn’t know that his potential sacrifice of his son Isaac was a prelude to Jesus’ death on the cross. The three still go tossed into the furnace. The Babylonians captured the Israelites. I doubt there was much consolation or perspective on a greater purpose for those that died in Babylonian captivity. We read that the disciples were out of sorts as to what to make of Jesus’ death. We have the luxury of looking at these individuals’ circumstances, not only of their whole lives, but as they fit into the entire narrative of God reconciling humanity to Himself.
And so it is with our lives. We have certain ideas and expectations about how it will all play out, probably not to the smallest detail, but definitely broader themes. Generally, we have life aspirations that, we hope, attach us to God’s greater plan for reconciliation. However, these are likely on our terms. They incorporate a measure of our own confidence, comfort, and choice. What then, are we to do when the unexpected happens? When God’s plan for how my life will attribute to His great plan? Maybe I thought I would be married. Maybe I thought I would find a certain kind of job. Perhaps I was expecting that I would live a life of sufficient financial means. When these things don’t go as we’d planned, it is easy to feel that God has somehow forgotten us and that our lives are careening off the tracks. And maybe they are (Romans 9:22-23)! But let us not forget that our lives, too, fit into a much bigger narrative than what we can see or understand. And the ‘bumps’ in the lives of believers in Jesus are likely the things that define us as His.
What then should be our mode of operation? Hebrews 11 recounts many saints in Christian history who were so because of their faith in God. The chapter ends with this. ‘These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.’ Let this not be a trite offering of ‘just have more faith’ to any who are experiencing the unexpected. Rather, may it be a call to remember that your life is glorifying to God in as much as it fits into the entire narrative of God reconciling humanity to Himself. In that sense, may all of us encountering life’s unexpected bumps respond by anticipating nothing more than God’s will be done with our lives.

'Jesus comes to us in skin. He looks like your neighbor.'
-Dr. David Allen
Taylor University chapel speaker

Lent

For the first time in my life I’ve observed the Lent season. Neither my family nor my home church, while I was growing up, has ever observed the Church calendar aside from Christmas Eve/Day and Easter Sunday. I don’t fault them for not exposing me to this, though I think the evangelical church could stand to incorporate more liturgy into its faith practice. Lent is a season of 40 days preceding Easter Sunday which focus on fasting and penance, usually in three areas: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Today, a common approach is to give up a vice, add something that will draw one closer to God, and to give charitably.

Six weeks ago, the Sunday before Ash Wednesday, Ben, Caleb and I were studying together when conversation began about Lent. We all shared that we had minimal knowledge of it and had never observed it. So, after a little research, we decided, at approximately 11:50pm Tuesday night that together we would do it. We’ve abstained from caffeinated beverages and we’ve committed to reading through the four gospels during Lent.

No Coffee for YOU! ‘If it doesn’t cost you anything in the beginning, what’s it going to be worth to you in the end?’ Many students have heard me challenge them with this mantra, usually when they’re thinking of chickening out of asking a girl or boy to go on a date with them or something of that nature. However, as we were thinking about what to give up, this mantra came to mind. I am not addicted to coffee. Let’s just say there’s nothing on the menu that will satisfy me quite like a cup of black coffee. I have worked at a coffee shop for the better part of 9 years. So, it’s a highly integrated part of my life. Call that what you want.
Giving it up has been very challenging. One of the most challenging has been all of the comments and strange looks I’ve gotten from people when I either don’t order a coffee, or turn one down when it’s offered to me. People have come to expect certain patterns in my behavior. Certainly this is not bad, but I think I’ve realized just what a creature of habit I am. Another obvious challenge has been the cravings, though not in the form of headaches or the shakes that come from caffeine withdrawal. Rather, there are two circumstances which I’ve craved coffee the most.
First, has been when I’ve not gotten much sleep and I think I need help to stay alert. Just writing that makes me cringe at the unhealthiness of such a thing. I’m not saying it’s wrong to have a cup in the morning or late at night to help you that way, but when it becomes the primary vehicle for such things, then I don’t think you’re treating your body as a temple… at least, I don’t think I am.
Second, has been when I’m sitting down to talk with someone personally. A social lubricant, it is not. However, I have been surprised at how uncomfortable I’ve been sitting down with students or friends without a cup of coffee. Maybe it’s an environmental thing. Maybe it’s a security blanket. Maybe it’s something else. I don’t know. It concerns me that there are things I feel I ‘need’ to have in order to comfortably talk with others. So many of those conversations with others are framed in the context of openly and honestly sharing my life with them. Though having a cup of coffee during that process is not impeding my ability to be authentic with others, I wince at the idea that in some small way I may need to have my ‘armor’ with me.

The Gospel: ‘Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out His hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”’ – Matthew 14:29-31
In reading the Gospels again, I’ve felt I’ve looked upon Jesus’ parables, especially, with fresh eyes. Parables can stand alone and are good for teaching. Reading through them all in such proximity, for me, has been an opportunity to consider that the message in each fit together so succinctly. It has also been especially challenging to consider each of these without Bible study notes, or specific points to grab out of the passages. Reading through the Gospels in a sermon or a Sunday school class can be a dangerous thing for me, as I’ve read through them many times and have herd many speakers pull specific points out of parables. It’s very easy for me to come across something like the passage about the wise and foolish builders and think: Wise guy believes in God = sturdy house, Fool doesn’t believe in God = flimsy house. I.e.: Let’s be sure we believe in God. But in that process, I’m not reading critically enough to catch that this is not at all about belief. It’s about an appropriate response to belief; application and actions. I pray that this experience will only reinforce my desire for contextual reading from the Bible.

Resurrection Sundays: The Sundays during Lent do not count as part of the 40 days, because they are observed as ‘mini’ Easter celebrations. During these Sundays, we broke our fast and had coffee. I think one of the most significant experiences during Lent has been living in anticipation. Anticipating coffee, yes, but understanding that the coffee hasn’t been the focal point. Breaking my fast in order to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection and victory over sin and death has made this a season of observation; not just a day. In this sense, I’ve focused more on Jesus death and resurrection more personally than ever before. Though it may seem coincidental, this last 40 days have been marked with a somber melancholy for me. There have been many long days and difficult conversations along with challenging mental and emotional processing that I’ve experienced due to various happenings in my recently. In a way, I don’t think that there could have been a more appropriate time to experience some of these things, because it has not been difficult to look past them at that which should really take precedent over all the circumstances of my life: that God loves me enough, even in my absolute depravity, to become a man and be put to death by His own creation as a sacrificial act in order to justify and then sanctify me so that I may be able to be reconciled to Him forever. In comparison to the constant reminder of such perfect love, I’ve been able to traverse the last 40 days of my life with significantly less despair, as the hope and celebration of Jesus’ resurrection loom just ahead. He is risen! He is risen indeed!

The Stations of the Cross: Yesterday I participated in the Stations of the Cross. This is a liturgical practice that involves prayer and meditation on a sort of ‘pilgrimage’ to 14 locations from Jesus being sentenced to death to being laid in the tomb. Each station is supplemented by scripture reading, prayer, and meditation. This was a very good experience. I think that I left with a very real sense that this Lent season experientially brought everything together. I want to live reverently in response to Jesus sacrifice. I want to be a disciplined person. I want to live expectantly.
Then Jesus said to His disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” –Matthew 16:24-25
Jesus death is a very personal gift for me. It is the only perfect love that I will experience in this life and without it I am simply skin and bones taking up space for a few fleeting days in this existentially pointless world. In light of this, I was all the more compelled to recite at each station, yesterday with the congregation, ‘We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.’

And so I’m anticipating Resurrection Sunday tomorrow. I look forward to celebration, once again, that which is the source of all hope and confidence in this life. This experience has been so beneficial. If I had to sum up what has been impressed on my heart the most during this time. It would be as follows:
He who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces, but he on whom it falls will be crushed. –Matthew 21:44
Discipline, sacrifice, abstinence, fasting, sorrow, humility. These things are all worthy pursuits because of the opportunities that they lend to being ‘broken to pieces on the stone’ that is Jesus Christ and the Word of the Lord. I want these things to be a part of my life not because they make me strong or because they make me wise, or they make me pious. Rather, by continuing to do these things, I hope to be continually broken toward refinement, but not crushed under the weight of the Holiness of God.

Clara & Carter

Thesis defended successfully. BOOYEAH! Wow....

I just got back from babysitting Clara and Carter for an hour with Katie. I LOVE those kids! We spent most of the time walking back and forthbetween the bedroom and the living room cooking play dough pie. I couldn't begin to describe what is so beautiful about the Graham kids, but they are. Time interacting with them is almost immediately refreshing and renewing. Praise the Lord for children, but thank Him especially for Clara and Carter. One of the things on my frisbee list (things to do before I'm outta here...) is to spend an afternoon painting canvases with Clara. Certainly this will be a blast, but it's also secretly my major decorating idea for my apartment next year...

...how it was as close to art as art itself...

Nate, much more a lover of poetry than of baseball, though, a good friend, so he knows of my baseball obsession, sent me this poem that he taught his 5th grade class last week. I'm posting it here, especially for all of you scoffers and naysayers who attempt to rebuff my love for baseball. Maybe this will encourage you to come around and see the beauty you're missing. (Thanks Nate)

Tagging the Stealer
to David Cavanagh

So much of it I hadn't a bull's notion of
and like the usual ignoramus who casts his eyes
at, say, a Jackson Pollock or ‘This Is Just to Say’,
I scoffed at it. I didn't twig how it was as close
to art as art itself with its pre-game ballyhoo,
antics, rhubarbs, scheming, luck; its look
as if little or nothing is going on.
How often have we waited for the magicin
the hands of some flipper throwing a slider,
sinker, jug-handle, submarine, knuckle or screwball?
If we're lucky, the slugger hits a daisy cutter
with a choke-up or connects with a Baltimore chop
and a ball hawk catches a can of corn
with a basket catch and the ball rounds the horn.
Oh, look, Davo, how I'm sent sailing
right out of the ball park just by its lingo.
But I swear the most memorable play I witnessed
was with you on our highstools in the Daily Planet
as we slugged our Saturday night elixirs.
The Yankees were playing your Toronto Blue Jays.
They were tied at the top of the 9th.
I can't now for the life of me remember
who won, nor the name of the catcher, except
he was an unknown, yet no rookie.
Suddenly behind the pinch hitter's back he signalled
the pitcher, though no one copped until seconds later
as the catcher fireballed the potato to the first baseman,
tagging the stealer. It doesn't sound like much,
but everyone stood up round the house Ruth built
like hairs on the back of the neck, because the magic
was scary too. Jesus, give each of us just once
a poem the equal of that unknown man's talking hand.
- Greg Delanty