Rekindle Retreat, Jan 14-16

Last week, I had so much to do that even though I'm such a conformist, I really wanted to skip my conference's mandatory retreat for all of its pastors at Pine Springs Ranch.  I had a sermon to prepare by the end of the week, a newsletter to craft, a large all-conference event to strategize, and a certain amount of pressure to get things rolling on my wedding planning.  It just seemed nuts and counterproductive to take three days out of such a week as that just to hang out with other pastors because the conference said so.

But a few things nagged at my conscience that got me to go.  One was that it was required, and I generally do what I'm told.  The other is that it was the first time all of the pastors in our conference have been called together socially across our separately managed regions in a very long time.  I am passionate about cross-regional relations with the hope of someday seeing the regions vanish, or at least no longer be drawn along ethnic lines.  So as not to be called a hypocrite for saying I believe that and then not supporting the conference when it does something like that, I went. But I still had a bad attitude about the time it would take.

On the way up to Pine Springs Ranch, though, my attitude started to change.  My regional director had told us all to read Dr. Joseph Kidder's book, The Big Four, before going, and I was listening to it on the Kindle text-to-speech feature.  As I listened to how taking time out to pray transformed his ministry, I realized that this retreat would probably give me a good reality check about that.

And it did. After an initial presentation about how different thinking styles affect ministry (which is very similar to brain quadrant preference, but this guy explained it more clearly than anyone else has), Dr. Kidder was the speaker for the rest of the weekend, and it was all about prayer and keeping Christ the center of ministry. While many of his talks were almost word-for-word from The Big Four, the passion with which he delivered them was powerful.  His life story, which wasn't in his book, was amazing, too--native to Iraq, he became a Christian and an Adventist at the cost of being beaten and disowned by his family.  After many hurdles and difficulties, he came to the US and eventually became a professor at Andrews.

I sought him out at lunch the middle day of the retreat, partly because I was curious about some aspects of his life in Iraq but even more curious about some aspects of life at Andrews University.  He took me aback by taking an interest in me and my story, especially my plans to go to Andrews in the fall whether there is a sponsorship involved or not.  He surprised me, at the end of the walk, by actually praying for me one-on-one to get a sponsorship.  Somehow, until he did that, it had never occurred for me to pray for that specifically myself.  My prayers had just been feeble sorts of, "If you want me there, God, you figure out how to get me there."

I've known so many people who have been disappointed by asking God for specific, concrete things that I suppose that I've been afraid to ask.  But I realized after Dr. Kidder prayed for me that this has been holding back my ministry.  It is no crime to pray for specific results, after all, if those results are already a part of God's revealed plan.  I had never had the guts in my whole life to pray for wholesale heart conversions or baptisms, even though theoretically these are the things my ministry is supposed to produce.  I realized, then, that the three days I was spending away from the supposed business end of my work were really being spent exactly where they need to be--in prayer for my congregation, God's mission for it, and the people I care about.

That night, the conference treated all of us pastors to a very special communion service modeled after the Passover celebration.  We were all mixed up so that no one was next to a pastor of their same region, and that was powerful.  At the end of it, the conference officials all spread themselves throughout the room and made sure that every single pastor got anointed.  It was really strange and powerful to see these men and women I was used to seeing wielding authority in suits at their offices humble themselves to serve us in this way.

Our worships consisted of both music and testimonies, and the testimonies were the most interesting, because it was kind of the first time I've heard that many pastors be that honest at once.  They owned up, in front of their peers, to their failings and their growth. Pastors who had never met or spoken to each other before bared their souls. It made me smile to realize that most of them had an equally bad or worse attitude going into it than I had, but had also gotten something really amazing out of it.

From there, I plunged into the work of the week and weekend to follow.  But I felt so much more directed, clear in my thinking, and connected to why I was doing what I was doing.  The Sabbath, which was perhaps the busiest I'd had in a long time, energized me instead of wearing me out (though i did crash the next day).  When I encountered my colleagues throughout the weekend as I collaborated with them on various things, they looked more passionately focused on their purpose in all this activity as well. 

And once I had recovered from the weekend in all of its insanely busy splendor, I finally gathered the courage to pick up the phone and start calling my family, one by one, to tell them that Stephen and I confirmed our wedding date of August 4 at the Yountville SDA Church.  Was I scared of them?  No.  I was scared of being overwhelmed by all the wedding talk, and yeah, by the end of the day (it takes all day to talk to each family member individually, even if a few do go straight to voicemail), I was emotionally wiped.  After all, calling all those people is like taking a person-by-person tour of relationships that will change in some way once I get married. But it's like something inside of me has finally clicked enough to face not just my work better, but these major life changes of marrying Stephen and going to Andrews with more courage than I had before.  I have my health back, and for that, I am grateful, but I am even more grateful for this wonderful attitude adjustment that my conference just forced me to attend.

This time, when I sign off to the email edition of Jillian's Journeys, I mean it more sincerely than ever that you are in my prayers. I love you all so very much, and pray that God will energize, bless and focus you in whatever it is that you are doing this week.

A Holiday Adventure: Dec. 22-Jan. 7

What a whirlwind!  The year ended with an incredible crescendo and opened up the new year with great fanfare.  After the fugue of large scale church Christmas events, my parents and I drove up to Oakland after their last day of school.  We flew out of there early the next morning to see our beloved friends the McMillans in Los Alamos.  I would have loved more time with them, but Christmas Eve is a time for family.  So, we flew back to Oakland (insultingly by way of LA, so close to home but not home) to drive to Napa to be with family for Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve, I had my boyfriend Stephen at my side, and I was pleased to see how well he got along with my family.  I was also overjoyed just to see some relatives that I haven't seen since my mother's birthday in May, and some since last Christmas.  I met for the first time my two adorable twin cousins, Lincoln and Mateo, who were born maybe two months ago.  That night, after all the good food and presents, Stephen took my Dad aside for a brief conversation which left them both smiling.

I spent Christmas Day with Stephen's family in Angwin.  It was a joy to see his two brothers, who are also friends of mine, home for the holidays.  I was touched by how they treated me like one of the family, his parents even giving me a stocking along with their sons.  We ate, talked, played games, and they introduced me to Stephen's grandmother, a very beautiful woman under Piner's care.

After the traditional playing of awful music on Boxing Day, the Lutes family picked me up for us all to go to Leoni Meadows for a few days.  It was snowing on the way in, and we had to put chains on their van.  After the six of us settled into the cabin, Stephen took me on a walk through the moonlit camp.  We stopped at the door of the cafeteria, laughing at his first memory of me (I remember him some two or three years before that) trying to talk to him when he was so shy when we were in high school.  The conversation flowed far more freely than that first remembered one as we walked to the porch of the Leoni House, where he held me as we overlooked the moonlit, snowy meadow.

Then he suddenly wasn't holding me anymore.  I turned around, and there he was, on one knee with a lovely little ring in hand.  "Jillian Spencer, will you marry me?" he asked. 

And of course, I said yes.

We walked back out to the bridge in the middle of the meadow, where he had gotten his parents to set up a rose, a candle, some Martinelli's and two goblets.  We took our time to process what we had just done, toasting to the future and praying for wisdom as we go about it, as well as for the people we care about as they react to hearing about it.  I was incredibly grateful to have that time before sharing it with the world, something private before it all became so public.  That night, we would tell his brothers and my immediate family. The next morning, we would post it on Facebook for the world to see.  But I was glad to have something private first.

And I was glad to have a few days just enjoying the scenery of Leoni Meadows in the snow and the company of the Lutes family before going back to face everyone who would surely pester me with questions. "When are you getting married?'  "Can I do this?"  "Can I help you with that?" and "Have you thought about this, that, or the other element of the wedding?"

While I understand this loving curiosity and desire to help, I feel it distracts from the simple joy of the narrative.  God has brought Stephen and I together, and we want Him to lead us together for the rest of our lives.  Sure, I'll have to plan a wedding and all the fussy things that go with it, but I worry about that becoming a distraction from the life that Stephen and I got engaged to build.

So I was grateful that Sabbath when his home church in Yountville was congratulatory, but low on questions, and that night when we were actually able to celebrate my father at a private screening of Les Miserables without my engagement being a distraction from it.  Dad was genuinely surprised to see a theater full of his students throughout the years, and it really touched him.  I think all three of us were crying at the end of the movie, and he had to break up all the emotions of the thing with his flippant, "Don't forget to pay for your silent auction items!"

The next day, the four of us drove back to LA, and spent a lovely evening with our friends, the Staubbacks, including a trip to the El Capitan Theater for Monster's Inc. On New Year's Eve, Stephen and I went to Disneyland (I won't do that again or recommend it; it is far too crowded on New Year's Eve).  From there, we went to camp all night on Colorado Blvd for the Rose Parade, catching up with my friend Diane through the cold watches of the night.

After drinking in the sights and sounds of the parade, we repacked and headed out to Vegas with my parents. That night, we strolled through the lit gardens of the Ethel M factory--it was magical, and even more magical without glasses.  The next two days, instead of getting good and refreshed, somehow Stephen and I ended up wandering the Strip, admiring the architecture of some of the casinos while getting tired out by the swarming masses of people and irritatingly constant advertising.  We did enjoy some good food at the different Feast buffets in the evenings, though, and finally got around to seeing The Hobbit in its magnificent high frame rate.

Once home on Friday, it was a quick rush to create the church newsletter and come to church for Pathfinder Sabbath the next day.  Like the members at Yountville, my own church members were very gracious about not prying us with too many questions--we even managed to run an Amnesty International letter-writing campaign and actually get people interested in the issues.  The next morning, however, I woke up with 103 degree fever.  So, instead of Stephen ending his trip to LA with something more adventurous and journeysome, he spent it taking good care of me and now I am actually probably at my physically best since June now. 

And now I am at a loss at what to do with this blog because from here on out, my journeys are no longer "Jillian's Journeys" but "Jillian and Stephen's Journeys."  But then again, God has been my constant traveling companion the whole length of my writing this blog, and I've never given Him title credits, either. The purpose of this blog has always been to satisfy the curiosity of friends and family who have found it an impossible task to keep track of me, and sincerely want to know where I've been and what I've been doing while absent from them.  From now on, though, this is no longer just my story, but our story.  But it always has been an "our story"--the story of keeping up my relationships with all of you while far away from you.