Keeping up with the Castilles:: Debt, Dancing, and Deaconization

Hello, my sweet family and friends!

Obligatory bluebonnet picture. The sun was bright. :P

It's been a while since I visited this little patch of internet. The sheer volume of documents at work has kept my fingers tapping constantly, and they feel the ache of repetitive motion by the end of the day. Most evenings, I can't wait to grab my gym bag and give my body a chance to sweat out the stiffness of a day spent sitting. 

Not only does my body shun the thought of sitting at the computer, sometimes words are just...gone.

For a highly verbal external processor who majored in Communication, it is an odd feeling to reach inside and find nothing.

Uhhhhhhh...me no have words. Come back later. 

But the Lord has been good. In the middle of the constant phone ringing at work, I feel His presence. When I'm feverishly typing out thirty emails, processing over a hundred new documents, and telling the tenth student in a row how to run a degree evaluation, He is with me, giving me gentleness when I just don't have any left to give out.

And He keeps giving me times of refreshing. There was a recent tickle fight with my husband. There were tacos shared at our tiny table with friends. And check out the new flowers popping up in my garden!

But since it's been a while--and because last week enjoyd a rare vacation in Dallas and had some time to work on a post--I thought I should take the chance to catch you up on some recent highlights. 

Here's the first one, and it's a doozy....

WE ARE DEBT FREE!!

When I met my hubby, he had paid off his loans. But then he said "I do", and cheerfully agreed to start from ground zero with mine.

After two and a half years of renting small, driving old, (and the generosity of my sweet Grandma Elaine who set up an amazing little trust fund for each grandchild at our births), we sent the last payment for my student loans two weeks ago!

Actual photo of the last payment! 

Oh, there was no sweeter sound than that last mouse click. We totally did a happy dance in our living room. Thank you, God!


SPEAKING OF DANCING...

 The students in our homegroup threw an amazing, retro dance party for my man's 34th birthday! Everyone picked a decade, and we *literally* tore up the vinyl dance floor with music spanning every era of the past century.

There were twinkling lights, a photo backdrop bedecked with handmade paper discs, chocolate covered strawberries, and even--to my allergy-prone husband's delight--a gluten free chocolate cake! Seriously, those girls outdid themselves.

I have a personal theory that most of us weren't done playing dress up by the time we reached the age when we were too cool to do such things. And this is why adult costume parties exist.

My hubby was genuinely touched. In all the years that he has been leading a homegroup,  the students had never before thrown such an amazing party for him. He felt so loved and celebrated.

And then last Sunday, we celebrated for another reason...

HUBBY BECAME A DEACON!

This step has seriously brought us to our knees, totally flabbergasted at the goodness of God. When my husband came to our church in 2003, he was a college junior with spiked hair, energy that would rival a twelve year old, and no real concept of community.

Since then, my man has been mentored, discipled, trained, and encouraged by godly men in our church. As the years have gone by, he has become a mentor, a trainer, an encourager for younger men, all while continuing to receive love, correction and support from others.

It's a beautiful cycle as we build up each other. When all serve, all are served. 

As he and the husband of my friend stood at the front of the church to be named deacons, our pastors prayed, and I bowed my head over my open hands.

I've realized that receiving the title "deacon" is a bit like being officially named a janitor. Deacon is literally Greek for servant. And serving means continually dying to self, continually allowing the Lord to empty you--of pride, of expectations, of yourself. It isn't glamorous, self-fulfilling, or comfortable.

But Jesus served. He died to himself in every way imaginable, all the way to the ultimate obedience at the cross. And if serving knits us closer to his heart, makes us more like Him, then I say bring it on.

An Italian in Texas! (And a crazy start to the semester)

For thousands of college students, the new school year means cramming your life into the back of your car and returning to the world of tests, papers, and dorm life.

And for those of us who do campus ministry (or are married to those who are), it means prayerfully flinging ourselves headlong into the busiest season of the year.

It means opening our hearts once again to befriend and love students.

It means pretending we don't have work at eight am for the sake of a deep conversation.

It means choosing to create community for young men and women who may carry scars from community gone wrong.

This year, it also meant the collision of two worlds: Italy and Texas. 

On the Italy mission trip two years ago, we met a young man with a big personality. Michele (pronounced "Mih-KE-leh") was not a believer in Jesus, but he had a lot of questions, and he seemed to have a really good time with our team and the Italian believers.

Several months after we returned to TX, that young man decided to follow Jesus and was baptized in an Italian mountain lake.

When we returned to Italy this past May, Michele was like a different person! He was full of joy, constantly laughing and joking around. It was as if knowing Jesus amped up his already gregarious personality. More than anything, he was excited to talk about Jesus and the Bible with anyone he met.

Check out these joyful guys! (Michele on left, with our friend, Ottavio, who is also a believer in Jesus.)

Two weeks ago, (smack in the middle of the busy semester kickoff) Michele arrived in the US for his very first visit! One of the permanent missionary couples in Milan traveled with him to Texas when they came back for their son's wedding. Hubby and I had the privilege of hosting him for two of the nights he was in town.

He promptly bought a cowboy hat that he wore with more Texan pride than most Texans.

This pic was snapped in Milan after he returned from his American adventure. Can you tell which one is Michele?

He also dove right into our busy preparations for welcoming the new students, helping the hubby pass out flyers for the Freshmen Connect event and even helping him set up the sound equipment for the student-led worship band.

But more than the Blue Bell Ice Cream, BBQ, steaks and stetsons, we were thrilled that we could share ministry with our Italian brother. While the church in Milan does some similar things--we are both doing campus ministry after all--is is larger and more established here.

Here too, the campus does not censor religious speech.

We went ice skating too! (from left: me, Michele, and two of the awesome students who went with us on the Italy mission trip last May)

We were also pumped to receive the encouragement of having Michele with us!

There is nothing quite like being around a newer believer to remind you of how crazy and amazing it is to know the God of the Universe. 

Or how precious it is to pray openly, publicly, without repercussions.

Or the fact that it really is incredible, this chance to do college ministry. This chance to stand witness to God changing the lives of young adults, one by one.

Our homegroup plus new students on the night of the Kickoff Rally! Right there in Rudder Fountain, we baptized two of the girls who joined our group last year. An awesome night!

Texas isn't so big after all

After our recent camping trip with our homegroup, I am re-convinced of two things:

1. Food cooked over a fire just tastes better!
2. And God has a sense of humor that is as generous as it is mischievous.

Eight of us drove over the wildflowered Texan countryside to finally arrive after dark. It was the first camping trip several of the girls had ever taken, but they were great sports about the bugs and sleeping on the ground!

We even pitched our tent before before the guys had theirs up. (Not that it was a race or anything.)

I'm no outdoor expert, but my childhood is crowded with memories of helping Daddy set up our big three-room tent, of marshmallows browned to perfection over dancing flames, and of milky air full of morning sunshine as we rolled out of our sleeping bags. Other families went to Disneyland or Vegas--this was our vacation of choice. We reveled in the gloriously unscheduled freedom of unexplored woods and lakes and the chance to play with learn how to responsibly build a fire.

That weekend the weather was straight out of a camping magazine: crisp and cool evenings, with warm, breezy middays that made you wistful for a hammock. The night was cool and bright with stars. The group built a fire and talked for hours as the moon traced a path on the lake.

 The next morning, we had just finished some delicious breakfast tacos when it happened.

Hubby slyly tugged on my shoulder and pointed to the road. There, walking along toward us were my AUNT AND UNCLE and two of their dear friends!

My Uncle Dave was able to film my reaction with his iPhone. Enjoy this short clip of my shock:

Apparently, my aunt and uncle were camping with their friends only six campsites down the way. My husband and uncle had bumped into each other earlier that morning at the bathroom shared by all the campsites in our loop. They walked past each other before recognition kicked in, but once they realized the connect, they cooked up a plan to surprise the rest of us.

We even got to Facetime my parents and let them in on the reunion!

 

Time for an Avalanche update!

The beautiful times with our homegroup just keep coming, piling up softly. And then one day I glance behind and stand in jaw-dropped amazement at how God has grown our little community.

I’m not just talking about numbers (even though they’ve doubled since last year!).

I’m talking about a rising level of silliness that shows we’ve gotten comfy with each other. 

Disney's "Frozen" has been quoted non-stop in our group this semester! Random singing breaks out frequently. It may be partly because our homegroup's name, Avalanche, lends itself nicely to the Frozen theme.

I’m talking about inside jokes and vulnerable things shared at late hours after homegroup is over and crazy dress-up games and retreats where hearts are changed.

Because it’s all about Jesus changing our core selves, continually re-creating his creations into the newness he purchased with his death.

I’m learning more and more that He loves to use the tumbler of community to do this changing, softening us and turning us inside out like clothes in a dryer.

This spring we are marching through Romans together. I must have read it a gajillion times before, but this time Paul's words are like fresh water, spilling through the dust of self-sufficiency that settles whenever I take my eyes off the free gift of grace. I had the opportunity to teach Romans 3 last week, and as I prepared, my heart was soaking it in thirstily. We're wrestling with God's justice, the Law, and the fact that grace is un-earned even after we first receive it.

Because all our sin was future when Christ paid for it. And no future sin can cause Him to un-forgive a forgiven one.

And last month we asked a new girl onto the leadership team!

Meet Bree, a freshman who has blessed our group with her faithfulness and willingness to serve ever since she dove in last fall. As our group grew, we were praying for new leaders, and God is providing!

The men's and women's retreats were awesome! Or so I hear from those who went. In a sad twist of the calendar, an out-of-town-and-not-to-be-missed baby shower for a sweet friend and my sister's 21st birthday both coincided with the women's retreat.But don't feel too bad for me--I had a blast with these ladies and tons of heart-filling conversations with my sweet sisters, biological and not!

The theme of the ladies retreat was "Enough", and every girl I've talked to has gushed to me about how freeing it was to realize that God is sufficient for us, always with us, never running out of love or grace or power for us, the weak ones.

Enjoy a few more pictures of our shenanigans! 

For Valentines Day, we played a REAL LIFE version of the board game, Clue! How awesome is that?? We all dressed up, the guys surprised us by serving us dinner, and a few of us actually came in costume as characters from the movie (see below!)

Ellen as Miss Scarlet, and Yours Truly as Ms. Peacock. 

Ok, now we're in character. 

We had to take a we-got-dressed-up selfie...

Last weekend we had an amazing girl hangout while the guys had their retreat! Healthy chocolate chip pancakes (is that an oxymoron?), and Just Dance!

And...don't even ask. :)

Global Week

Last week our church tried something new.

We have always been a “missional” church. We are dedicated to evangelism and discipleship both here in our college town and overseas. For years, we have had special partnerships with churches overseas in countries like Nigeria, Italy, and Mexico, and we send teams each year to those partners. (Shameless plug for the Italy mission trip! It will change your life!)

We usually talk about the trips in spaced-out spurts: Mexico one week, Nigeria another week.

Not this year.

This year, our leaders decided to streamline, focus, and intensify by creating Global Week: a seven day period of teachings, prayer, worship and information about Jesus' Great Commission. We had a free missions conference by The Traveling Team, a half-night of prayer, info lunches about each mission trip—the works.

To be honest, I was nervous about last week. I was afraid that all this talk of missions would rip the band-aid off the old, unmet desire to go to the ends of the earth. That it would poke the wound raw, stir up the discontent I had almost ignored.

Here is my old pattern:
1) I see a need.
2) It’s huge.
3) My heart breaks.
4) I jump to the rescue.

And just to clarify,“Rescue” usually involves prayer, tears, and an intense desire to sell my car and hop on a plane. In the end, I feel frustrated because I’m here, not there.

Like I said, this is the old pattern.

 On that Sunday as the last session by The Traveling Team ended and we folded our chairs to leave, I realized that something was missing. The heart-wrenching, hopeless, urgent feeling was gone. In its place was a quiet, growing excitement to be so stratigically placed.

I remembered with a jolt that almost every hero of the Traveling Team’s stories was a man or woman whose most meaningful work was the mobilization of students. They were willing to go themselves, but humble enough to realize that God’s glory is often more magnified through community than through a single man or woman's zeal. It made me feel honored—not displaced—to be living here among college students.

After all, what could be more strategic?

He has placed me here. Until he reassigns me, I will be faithful in this place, with these students, with these kids and the kids on our street. At this moment, I simply feel content to pray, trusting that God will tell me the next step.

If you’d like to read more, check out this post, in which I realized that staying and sending can sometimes be radical obedience.

SCW: Aware of Cellulite and Grace

She was standing there, young, athletic and ridiculously beautiful, the mascara wand forgotten in her hand as she appraised me. She turned back to our shared mirror.

"It seems like there sure are a lot of married people in this group. Lots of y'all are older."

It was such a tiny comment, dropped like an afterthought into a whole conversation, but it stung.

I think I responded with a laugh and a fumbled something about people who choose to stay and help other lives change after they have been impacted themslelves and yadda yadda. (Which, by the way, I totally believe!) Suddenly, I was very aware of my cellulite and the new little lines around my eyes. I hoped she didn't think I was creepy or weird or that she had stumbled into a group of old people.

If this sounds like a familiar refrain, you're probably remembering an earlier post about my mid-twenties crisis. Yeah. That.

But there is a reason that this post's title isn't "Crisis #2"--because it wasn't. It stung in the moment, but I was able to take a deep breath and keep talking, keep listening, keep loving.

I think this means healing.

One of the best parts that weekend was the sweet camaraderie between us four.

We sat together in the dark on the cooling ground, watching constellations turn imperceptibly overhead. We slept with our heads close together on air mattresses. We talked over cocoa and coffee.

There was silliness.

There were ant bites.

There were marshmallow smears on my jeans from fireside s’more making.

There were heartfelt prayers for students by students at the back of the worship hall.

And even though my insecurities are still there, there is healing happening in my heart and I feel so glad for the chance to be an auxiliary part of this thing we call college ministry.

My Mid-Twenties Crisis

Yesterday as we prepped for our homegroup's pizza night, I had a moment of crisis. Why? Because my 26th birthday is next week. 

I know--I'm still young...but I panicked, wondering if passing that milestone would suddenly make me un-relatable to the eighteen year olds we are welcoming to our group. I mean, that's an eight-year gap!

My thoughts went something like this: I'm married. That instantly puts me a world away from them. Then they'll figure out my class year was 2010...the same year most of them were just starting high school. When I was babysitter age, they would have been the age to babysit! I can't even stay up late to hang out with them...I'm so lame...

I was feeling this even though my husband is over thirty and still totally relevant! Even though I could point to a generous crowd of young mommies who are encouragement powerhouses to the dozens of college girls who flock around them, I was still feeling like my expiration date was about to start flashing red. 

Because it's true; I am no longer the student who frequents coffee shops, has five sets of flip flops, and carries a backpack in lieu of a purse. 

But there is another truth: I'm also no longer the college student who crammed six discipleship meetings into every week, who strove to perform so well as "mentor" that she missed the chance to be "friend", and who carried a lump of lonliness and its consequential resentment. 

So much healing has happened since then. So much humbling, and still I need more. 

Today Jesus showed me that my desire to be relevant should take a back seat to a better goal: to love them well. 

I'm starting to realize that the thing a student needs may not be another friend who has the same struggles, insecurities, boy troubles, and lives at the same stage of life. What they really need is Jesus. And Jesus can use me--at any age--to listen, to encourage, to talk about the serious and the silly, to share rides and meals and life, and to bring them back to the relentless love of the Savior that I myself need desperately and say, "I've been there. And Jesus is still good."

Because there are some things that transcend generations X, Y, Z, and beyond, until He returns. 

Marching on! The Past Month in Pictures

Can you believe it's already April? I made a lot of corny jokes last month about how time was "March-ing on." Yeah, I really went there.

Corniness aside, time really IS moving quickly. My boss likes to quip that "time is the enemy"--of health, of productivity, of babies' cuteness--but I disagree. Death is the real enemy, and as we celebrated last Sunday, Jesus has already, ultimately defeated it. Happy, hope-flooded thought! We are physically dying, but Death will only stick around for a short while longer. Time is Death's enemy, not mine.

The past month held a lot of fun and silliness for hubby and I, squeezed in between work and other normal stuff. Here are some pictures of our shenanigans!

We learned an awesome new card game calked Munchkin. Its tagline is, "Kill the monsters, steal the treasure, stab your buddy." No role-playing, just fun. And yes, those are example cards from the game below...my favorite are the Boots of Butt-Kicking.

Still building relationships with these sweet kids every Wednesday. Love them. (Read about Bible Club here)

 I had the opportunity to sit amazed at my little sister's talent as she painted a vibrant butterfly wing during this 5-minute worship song at church. 

 We relaxed a weekend at the beach for Spring Break--which is actually where we went last year too. :) 

Our nieces were in a talent pageant! And for once, we got to be there!

 On lunch breaks, my walk often takes me next to a field untouched by lawnmowers. Ohhhh, the flowers have been taking my breath away this Spring! And if you like these TX flowers, you'll love these flowers from Colorado last summer. 

Chai latte's are the best, but especially when they're shared with my daddy during a special daddy-daughter date. My heart and my tummy were both full afterward. 

I've snagged quite a few gorgeous sunsets with my phone's camera. 

Annnd...here is my (SLOW) gardening progress! Thought I should post at least one picture so no one thinks I'm just pretending to have one. :)  The plants are still indoors because of a mis-calculation that left me with too little dirt in the bed, but they'll be out soon! 

Women's Retreat

To those of you who prayed (about a month ago! Ha!) that the Women’s Retreat would be restful—thank you! It was sweet rest for my heart, even if I did sacrifice sleep to talk with friends.

The theme of this year’s retreat was “Thrive”. Most days I feel like I’m surviving, but not necessarily thriving. Like Thoreau, I long to “live deep and suck all the marrow out of life”(Walden). I want to thrive, but what does that even look like?

In our fast-paced culture, thriving is often interpreted as “having it all”—money, looks, friends, vacation time, smart kids—whatever defines success in your section of the country. But numerous studies show that having more stuff and living larger and faster doesn’t necessarily equate to more happiness. Instead, we stress ourselves out and have to see therapists. Or drink coffee.

And does personal happiness give good measure of a life is well-lived? This definition fits my selfish tendencies just fine, but as a Christian, I know that there is a higher goal: Christ Himself. To know Him, his person-hood, his agenda, his love for people and the Father—this is great end and delight for which we were made.

And Jesus was pretty blunt: to follow him, we have to lay down our lives. Since He set aside His own personal comfort to rescue me, I’m foolish if I think I can follow him without doing the same.

Ok, but didn’t Jesus come to give us “abundant life”—the life that is truly life? (John 10:10) Obviously, he doesn’t define “the good life" the way we do in America. 

As we sat under the low-beamed ceiling and paper daisies strung for the occasion, wise women in our church began to flesh out a relational side of this whole elusive “thriving” thing for us. Here are some of my take-aways: 

A thriving life is one built solidly on relationship.
   With God
   With myself
   With others

Relationships are built upon time, trust, personal security, and the repeated, courageous decision to unwall my heart. 

These elements create communion, which begets community. And community is--despite the pain of past wounds--the natural state of man, the soil in which we thrive. 

Security in my relationship with God will greatly affect my ability to feel secure in friendships with other women. 


Practially, personally, (and hopefully less Hallmark-y), these tell me, "Okay Cherise, pursuing friendships is meaningful. Don't give up. It's worth it, even if friendships hurt sometimes."

Because I have wounds. Rubbed raw by insecurities, re-opened by perceived slights, the wounds are deeper and fresher than they should be. And it takes grace and courage--tenacious, faith-propped courage--to make that coffee date, that phone call.

And relational pain is part of the package called living. Jesus said some straightforward things about that too: "In this world you will have trouble, but take heart; I have overcome the world."

I came away from the retreat feeling like a fresh wind had blown through my musty thought patterns, loosening their hold and giving me renewed hope in friendships. I am loved. And I needed the reminder. 

Spring homegroup update!

It's about time for an update about homegroup! That is, after all, the fiber of the student ministry here at Fellowship Church, the rhythm of meetings and life in nourishing community.

We lost a lot of people last December: some to graduation and new grown-up jobs elsewhere, some to student teaching assignments in other cities. It's natural and expected--the population of a college town is in constant flux, and students themselves are in transition...but I was sad. I miss people when they leave.

This is why the perpetual prayer for those of us in college ministry is,  "Jesus, send us new people you have in mind, people who are hungry for you."

One way He is answering that prayer is through a sweet girl who isn't exactly new, but whose new-found confidence and humility in her new leadership role is a breath of fresh air to the homegroup! Sarah met us as a quiet freshman at last year's Spring Rally, and has since grown so much in her heart for other students and her understanding of the Bible. Most weeks, she brings along a new friend from one of her classes, and invites them to coffee or lunch on her free time. Yay for new leaders who are faithful!

In addition to old members stepping into leadership roles, we have had about eleven new students check out our homegroup since January. While not all will stick, we are praying that many will, and that we will be able to share our lives and the love of Jesus with them.

In other homegroup news, the first girl sleepover of 2013 was a smashing success! Hubby went elsewhere for the night while we stuffed ourselves with salad, homemade enchiladas and ripe strawberries, and then danced ourselves silly to the wii game, "Just Dance". Oh, and we painted toenails. Duh.

Another incredible time happened last weekend at the women's retreat...but that weekend deserves its own post...HERE.

Thanksgiving :: A Hard Discipline

Honesty time, ya'll.  Last Friday night, I had a world class emotional breakdown. (Or, as my friend would call it, an "EBD".)

Every abrasion of my heart felt like it had just received an alcohol bath, all my failures were hanging out on the line for the world to mock, my eyeliner was at clown proportions from tears, and the last thing I wanted to do was eat a cheerful Thanksgiving dinner with my homegroup. The last thing on my mind was thanks.

But I went. Mainly because I was bringing the salad. Teeth clenched, expectations nonexistent, I gripped the glass bowl and stomped out to the car.

And...of course, the pecan pie and laughter and paper football shenanigans softened my crustiness.

Give thanks in all circumstances.

Seriously--this is a hard lesson!  Can there be anything more difficult than thanksgiving when the car won't start? Does anything rub more against the natural grain when you and your hard work feel invisible and unwanted, when the card declines, when the future is murky, when your energy bottoms out and you get a paper cut on top of it all?

I'm learning that discipline can be a mercy, that the very thing that puckers my mouth may settle my stomach, that obedience is always best, even if I go kicking and flailing. Thankfulness--like love--is a choice, not a Norman Rockwell painting or giddy emotion.

I've read about a life brimming with "eucharisto thankfulness" in Anne Voskamp's book. I know that no other life is fuller, even if poverty is the discouraging reality of the bank statement, the pantry, or the social calendar. But if I'm going to stick to honesty, I have to admit I'm out of practice.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds...

So here we go: I'm going to practice this week. I'm taking the Joy Dare, and I hope it extends past Thursday.

God-Glasses

Did you know that James has often been called the "Proverbs of the New Testament"? Neither did I, until last week.

Perhaps it is because James is intensely practical, much like Proverbs. While the Apostle Paul spends a great deal of time expounding on doctrine and the mystery of our union with Christ, James cuts right to the heart of our complacency in short, concise phrases. "Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says."

I find it humorously ironic that in one of my homegroups, the topic is James; in the other, it's Proverbs. Hmm...a theme? 

As we plopped elbow-close on the floor, discussing and laughing, my friend said something about wisdom that startled me into new understanding.

“Wisdom” she said, “is seeing things the way God does.” “Like God-glasses?” someone asked. We all laughed, but the picture fit. *

We are born with faulty vision; distorted, warped. In our eyes, evil can look like good, people are devalued, and our own self-importance can inflate like an over-filled tire. We need some corrective lenses.

If wisdom is about accurate sight, then it can’t be merely a collection of facts and tips about how to behave, like a cheat sheet to whip out of your pocket when you don’t know what to do. I like systems that make sense, which can be codified like math. But God’s wisdom can’t be reduced to a code of conduct, though some have tried. If I use a cheat sheet enough, I might develop street smarts, but never true wisdom.  God says that “as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:9)

OK, but how do I get his way of seeing things into my own head? I was wondering because I, like James, can be intensely practical.

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Psalm 111:10)The words suddenly scrolled like a newsflash across my memory.

 Someone once explained to me that if we see God accurately for Who he is—majestic, resplendent in untrammeled power, fiercely beautiful, Judge of hidden secrets—this true sight will produce in us the healthy respect and awe he deserves. To know him is to see him. 

Knowing produces accurate sight.
Sight produces accurate fear.
Fear is the beginning of wisdom.

When I set heart toward Him, resolving to spend time with Him, honor Him, know Him, my vision will clear toward Him first. I will see Him as He is, and the clarity will travel outward, like ripples on a lake.

Yep, it goes against every insta-fix instinct. Every urge to reach for a cheat sheet. Wisdom, like the relationship with wisdom's Source, takes time to foster. But it will be worth every moment.

*My friend got her definition of wisdom from a class taught by our Pastor, R.M. #tryingtocitesourcesbetter :)