99 Balloons

"God gives. God takes. God's name be ever blessed."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=th6Njr-qkq0


I was "working" in the library with my friends Emmy, Becca and Annie, when we started playing our favorite songs. I played a song by Plumb entitled 'In My Arms' and told them that the artist wrote it for her son. Emmy is commonly referred to as mine and Annie's daughter, and we looked at her in wonderment laughing at how big she's gotten. Annie turned serious and said she can't believe we'll all have actual children over our own, and the day will come where they won't want us. We each talked about how we can clearly remember trying to avoid our parents, and not realizing how much it must have hurt them. Emmy told me and Annie she would never do that to us, being our child and all. We laughed, but I couldn't help imagine my mom and how perfect and wonderful she is to me now. I imagined her driving away after dropping me off on my first day of high school with tears in her eyes after I slammed the door in her face.
Annie directed me to 99 Balloons, saying it would be something I could analyze for my blog post. I had never heard of it and her ideas are usually pretty solid so I figured I'd look. As i began watching I could immediately distinguish the joy in the narrator's voice. But as the video continued I started to realize this wasn't only a video of new life, but of great loss.
The dad begins by talking about the arrival of his son, and of the disease that will follow his birth. He talks about the tragedy as if it is common in every birth, with no tone of anger or disappointment in his voice. A few weeks later, their son is born and given the name Eliot. He is connected to tubes and will be for the remainder of his life. Feeding is done throughout the day and night, and the dad talks about how it is his and his wife's favorite thing to do. Whether it be at 4p.m. or 3a.m. they find no greater joy than taking care of their son and meeting his every need. Each day of his life is celebrated by dear friends and family, they sing and make a cake for Eliot to commemorate the event. As day 99 of Eliot's life approaches, the dad talks about the miracle of his son still being alive. On day 99, Eliot goes home to be with Jesus, bringing an end to his short time on earth.
99 balloons are released at Eliot's funeral. The video ends with the dad saying goodbye to his son, as if this was a conversation. I found myself asking how the father was able to accept the death of his only child without asking why. He realized from the beginning that his son's life was not meant to reflect pain. Eliot was giving more by living 99 days than most of do in living 99 years. His short life on earth was a gift, and his dad knew he was blessed to receive him.
I experience tragedy, but the interpretation of its meaning is sourced in how i feel about it. Why did this happen (to me)? How will this change life (for me)? What will the future be like (for me)? How would it look if i took myself out of the situation, and changed the end of the previous sentences to focus around someone besides myself? I think I would be making a greater impact by living my life like Eliot. one day at a time. Living as if today was my last, remembering that God gives, God takes, and His name will ever be blessed- Job 1:21.

"I felt like I was handing God a forest, and he was handing me a seed."

Lately, after asking people how they are doing, the common response seems to be 'tired' or 'so beat.' Everyone is worn out on life in some way or the other. Classes one after the other, homework up our behinds, it is a never ending stress cycle. I found myself caught in the center of this process, overwhelmed and frustrated with problems I couldn't fix. There were mistakes I had made and wanted to be rid of, I wanted to be forgiven. My friend Annie knew i was struggling, so we went for a walk to the swamp.

We walked back and I felt like I was carrying a thousand pounds on my back. I was in a haze and couldn't pay attention. Everything became a little clearer when I found myself surrounded by this beautiful scene. We walked next to a stone bridge above a pond, up a tiny path and down a dirt lane with trees spaced out evenly between each other, and on the other side of this path was a swamp. There were geese floating aimlessly across the water. Surprisingly enough, the path was deserted. I thought it would be crowded with people, but we had picked the time during the day where teams are usually practicing which explained why no one was there. I threw my bag on a lonely bench in between two of the trees, the only bench to be seen.
I began opening up to her about my past, and how I was fearful of the future. I wanted something greater than this; I needed to be stimulated in thought and mind but couldn't find the will to trust the Beholder of all truth. She asked me questions without telling me what I should do, giving her own experiences that related to mine. She was especially fond of analogies, but it was nice seeing things from a perspective I could imagine myself in. I told her I knew what God had for me was better than anything I could dream of for myself. I had always feared an outcome I couldn't predict, so I went the safer route and trusted my own instinct. Doing this all my life, I found myself stuck on a line between trusting God completely and returning to my old ways of life.
One of my favorite analogies that she used was an experience from her childhood of her first time in the ocean. She stood next to her dad holding onto his hand for dear life. Her brothers and sisters ran carelessly into the water, but the thought of being on her own in this vast ocean was unimaginable to her. Her dad told her to let go, that he was right there and wouldn't let anything happen to her. He kept telling her that she would have a better time if she just let go and trusted him. So she did, and when a large wave approached her she knew her dad was right there watching. If she got swept under he would be there in a second, she would hold on to him again. But eventually he would convince her to let go again.
This was beautiful to me. It illustrated the idea perfectly, and I imagined myself holding on to my dad's hand, scared to let go. We continued talking about my fear, and she thought back to how she felt when she gave her life to God two summers ago. She said she felt like she was handing him a forest and he was giving her back a seed. She was surrendering her entire life with little expectations for God to come through.
I related with this, and we talked about how different life would be in general if we all admired the little things. We went from the creation, to humanity, and back to the geese aimlessly flapping their wings in the swamp behind us. She told me how letting go was the best thing she could have ever done, and the peace she experienced after was overwhelming. She told me that she realized she wasn't handing over a forest, but rather, God was handing her a forest and she was giving him a seed.

"I don't want to go to a Christian school, I want to go to a school filled with Christians."

"Christian makes a poor adjective."
-Rob Bell

The first day of college i sat in the lobby with my new group of friends, talking about why we chose Eastern. Discussions of other Christian schools came up, and we compared the pros and cons of each. I felt like i was sitting at the dinner table again with my parents trying to decide where to visit.
We talked about how we wanted our walk with God to be voluntary. If someone is telling you to go to church, how can you ever know if you really want to be there?
We were all new to each other, so rather than sit back and listen in on the conversation it was everybody's job to speak up and give their side of things. I listened to the random boy to my left with glasses as his Mac hummed on his lap while he talked about what brought him here. He was brave and and fearless as he said the words "I don't want to go to a Christian school, I want to go to a school filled with Christians." The conversation continued on without pause, but I couldn't help making a mental note to remember this statement. When I got back to my room I immediately wrote it down. Ever since then it has been present in every class when the professor brings up the word 'Christian'.
Is it safe to say we all agree with this statement? Does the label 'Christian University' necessarily mean we are surrounded by people with the same morals and values as us? I believe that if we are to be the Christians we claim to be, then we accept people unlike ourselves.

In my last INST class, we talked about what it meant to be a Christian. We agreed that Christianity had become warped into something God never intended for it be. It had become judgmental and unkind. One by one, students began opening up about their religious background and the lack thereof. It was amazing to me that even while they were in a room filled with 'accepting and loving' Christian people, they were hesitant to say that they themselves were not Christians.
So I ask myself and those reading this particular post, what is it to be a Christian? Not, what is it to 'be Christian.'

What do you think? I would especially like to hear answers from non-Christians as well.