update - the normal way:

for the past three weeks i've been traversing the mongolian countryside. although this has offered me plenty of opportunities to see monoglia, it has somewhat stifled any ability to update the TC with the same amount of frequentness i previoulsy possessed.

but, an update is just around the corner. in case the three of you who read this were wondering.

i do it for you!

update - the silly way:

"my heavens!" blog-reader number one exclaims. "why the deuce hasn't alissa updated her blog? i am growing weary plodding along through daily newspapers and monthly magazines! i need a thirsty camel! i need a thirsty camel update now!"

"i feel similarly," agrees blog-reader number two. "where the devil has she gone off to during these most crucial times? i do hope she's ok."

"what are you blokes talking about?" interrupts non-important-third-person man.

"oh, non-important-third-person man! so happy you interrupted our conversation. i say, have you any idea about --" (non-important-third-person man walks away rather quickly).

"blast it! how much longer shall we wait for this thirsty camel update to arrive?" inquires blog-reader number two.

"i hope not long. i must have a wee quite soon," answers blog-reader number one.

"here, here!" blog-reader number two blurts out. "I should rather fancy a cup of tea now as i wait." he adds.

"a tea and a wee! sounds splendid my good man!" blog-reader number one replies.

"what's this? why, by the beard of zeus! i do believe that's an update coming our way! shouldn't be long now by the looks of it! how delightful!" blog-reader number two says as he looks off into the distance.

"oh, most splendid my good man! what excellent eyes you have! then let us have a quick tea, a quicker wee and the update should soon be upon us. one lump or two?" blog-reader number one says while holding up a sugar cube.

"two on the camel. one in my tea, thank you kindly. and don't forget i also take a spot of cream." blog-reader number two states.

"splendid!" blog-reader number one sighs.

"splendid!" blog-reader number two laughs.

weird, confusing and rambling

What do I know about wisdom? It is one of the best and worst things a person can have. It seems elusive, yet its reality is quite straightforward. It is objective and simple, but requires much thought and time to acquire (and you never really know if you’ve acquired anything). Often it will change you, make you solve difficult problems, push you to doubt, scare you, strengthen you, confuse you. Wisdom holds the sureness of logic and the freedom of philosophy. It is lies and truth. It can just as easily trap you as ensure you liberty. Wisdom is quite dangerous, but offers much safety.

These things I know – kind of. Maybe it is safer for me to say these are things I think I know. But there are also things I don’t know. I don’t know why or how wisdom exists or why I want it so much or even how to recognize it sometimes. And I am vaguely ok with never having answers to those things. However, it’s probably better for me to at least investigatively wonder than to sleep in vagueness.

So I’m waking up. The TC will now, for the time being, offer many a wondering installment about wisdom. This, my friends, is just the introduction. The first installment (coming soon) will be about limitations. So that should be great. I wholeheartedly promise it, and all following entries, will be weird and confusing and rambling. But if they weren’t, there would be no place for them here.


Wake Up!

first anniversary

Happy First Anniversary! This means I have been in Mongolia for one year. One whole year of glorious cross-cultural, missional, blasted cold, insufferably hot, dry, dirty, adventurous, mildly horrifying, hilarious, mutton-y, mountain filled, slippery, teacher-y, language barrier, sun shining, polluted, high elevation, bus riding, horse riding, salty milk tea drinking, electricity cutting, high priced, traffic dodging, beautiful, unique, and sometimes frustrating bliss.

To celebrate, I’m adding a more frequent periodical section for your reading pleasure. I can’t say it will be daily, weekly or even bi-weekly. Just that it will be more frequent than once a month. I like to live vaguely.

So check it out whenever you want. Just click on Jerome and you’ll be whisked away into the magical world of Mongolia as seen through a sojourner’s eyes.

Celebrate! Enjoy! And eat a piece of cake in honor of whatever anniversary you’re celebrating today. Or just eat a piece of cake for the heck of it.

sweaty rage

My friend and I took a cab one night on our way home from a meeting and chatted about our teaching experiences. One of the things we brought up was the “secret well of rage” that always seems to surface when you’re in the classroom. It’s secret because you are unaware of its existence until you give your students directions, expect them to comply, and they don’t. And after this happens on a consistent basis, you go mad. Next thing you know, you’re yelling and sweating and stomping around and contemplating failing the entire class. My friend said “it’s that frustration of someone going against your will all the time.”

I thought out loud to my friend, “I wonder about God, then; having an entire world go against his will – even the ones who love him. We only deal with classrooms of 20 and our wills are imperfect. And I’m pretty sure the students don’t really like me anyway.”

Later, I thought about this planet and the lives that inhabit it. A place so filled with disobedience with so few examples of obedience. I thought about God being angry about this. I kept thinking: an angry God. I felt a little uncomfortable thinking of him this way. When I pray, I don’t say things like, “Thank you for being gracious and faithful and angry.” But then, why shouldn’t I be thankful that God gets angry at disobedience, at sin, at corruption? After all, Jesus was not sent on behalf of my obedience, but on behalf of my sin.

Ah, so there it is.

God is angry. But the remarkable and beautiful difference is in his complete and utter perfection. He is always, relentlessly aiming for redemption. It’s clear that he delights in working mercy and forgiveness for each person as we all share in the same disobedient nature (Proverbs 29:13 or Psalm 74:12 or I Samuel 2:6-8 – shocking!). God’s love and God’s anger are inextricable – maybe parents can understand this a little easier than others. I have clear definitions of love and anger, but I’m starting to rethink their accuracy. Frankly, I’m limited and flawed. Every perspective I have subsequently falls under those parameters. It’s unfortunate, but leaves me in a beautiful position. In I Corinthians, it says the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men. If this is true, God’s anger and love are truly two constantly, often painfully misperceived things (but not wholly incomprehensible!).

A long time ago, Jesus walked through the temple and completely disrupted business by overturning tables and accusing people of stealing (which was true). The temple wasn’t built for conducting business and certainly not to cheat and deceive people. The temple was God’s home and Jesus wanted to restore it to its true state. I’m thankful that when Jesus walked through the temple he recognized – and was furious at – the disobedience flourishing there and immediately removed it and kept it removed*. I’m not often prone to welcome it, but I am thankful he does the same thing in me. And that he longs to do the same thing in every person.

Even after a couple weeks, I’m still thinking about this strange, redemptive angry-love of God’s. I’m fascinated by the perfection with which he executes it. I wonder how it would look if I had angry-love like his.

And then I find out no one has done their homework…




*Mark 11:15

christmas

Prologue: Mone told me she saw fake Christmas trees on sale for 600,000-800,000 tugruk which is around $550-$750. Real trees don’t even cost that much. Maybe a few feet of the Rockafeller Center tree…but not ones that can actually fit through your front door.

There are certain traditions kept by me at Christmas that this year I’ve had to pass over. They are quite childish so I’m a little embarrassed to document them publicly. But for the sake of the holiday, I’ll let you in on some of my favorites: 1. Often I will count each present under the tree and organize them according to size so the largest are in the back and the smallest are in the front. 2. If there happen to be siblings spending the night (now that we’re older and out of the house), it is my job to wake them up…early. Coffee has helped enormously in this area. 3. It is then our duty to stand at the end of the hallway leading to our parent’s room and count to three before breaking into a sprint, exploding through their door, and leaping onto their bed to wake them up with a good dose of Christmas spirit.

Now at 25, I will spend Christmas 13 hours ahead of my family, 5,000 miles away in Mongolia. So this got me thinking. And I have a confession to make: nothing I love about the Christmas season has to do with Jesus.

I don’t like writing that. I hate admitting it. But it’s true. So much of this season for me is wrapped up in the past and good memories and traditions. Jesus is actually quite absent from it all apart from Christmas Eve services. I live Christmas out in feelings and memories and traditions. Those things are not bad, but they are empty (which is hard to accept) in light of the incredible reality of Jesus’ birth.

I suppose around middle school something about Christmas changed. Middle school is such an awkward time for many reasons and it’s made worse because parts of you are still a kid but parts of you are growing up. The kid-parts of me still cherished the magic I found in Christmas. The growing up-parts of me suspected there was more to the holiday than the kid-parts of me clung to. There was a mish mash of feelings I didn’t know what to do with as an 11 year old so I just decided to do what was normal for me during the holiday – I reverted to silly habits and put all Christmas’ worth in a small box labeled ‘Xmas Decorations.’ I tried to convince myself that nothing changed and I could live quite happily in illusion.

But this year, my grown up-parts must have gotten sick of doing all that. Why settle for illusion, Alissa, when a grand miracle is staring at you from a baby’s face? God’s face.

I don’t know. I still love to bake cookies and listen to my Twisted Sister Christmas album and wrap presents and jump on my parent’s bed. Those things are still a very large part of Christmas for me. But they are not its purpose. And I have to learn how to celebrate Christmas in that reality.

So at 25, 13 hours ahead and 5,000 miles away, I’m unpacking the small box labeled ‘Xmas Decorations’ and following a star and seeking God’s face.

soggy brain

I always come to the end of the month frantically thinking about what I should write for this blog. I need to update! I need to stay fresh! I need to be interesting! I need to be clever! I need to be insightful! I need to include bits about Mongolia!

And my brain becomes soggy being drenched in all the things I think everyone needs to hear.

But, to tell you the truth, this is what I want to write about:

I want to write about all the things in Mongolia and living in a different culture that drive me crazy. I want to write about how difficult it’s been for me to adjust living with a roommate and learning how to serve another with love (ie: being sensitive and aware of needs and expectations). I want to write about the immense frustration I feel because I can’t speak the language properly. I want to write about loneliness. I want to write about stress and feeling overwhelmed. I want to write about every single thing that is worrying me. I want to write about the students who annoy me. I want to write about feeling tired.

It’s all too easy, when a blank page is set before me, to write everything that’s in my head. And consequently the result becomes entirely too personal. I can’t help it. Therefore, the list above will remain a list, as I don’t think by now you should wonder the prevailing feelings I have at the moment.

This missionary thing is hard.

I should now talk about positive things. That’s only right, and because I have this ridiculously truthful verse running around my head that says “when times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other. “ (Ecc 7:14)

So, here I am. Warm and safe and fortunate to have chocolate within reaching distance. I am alive, and it’s a good thing to be so. Because I am able to love and be loved. And whether by obedience or foolishness (which so often get confused in this race I’m running), I have been graciously put in a strange and beautiful land for the sake of a King. A King who is real and steadfast and merciful and jealous and vast. He sustains me when I most need it, even though I’m completely obtuse to its tender cultivation. And it’s now that I’m reminded of the incredible fact that I am known by such a King.

(some will scoff and chafe at such statements, which is fine. Scoff and chafe to your heart’s desire. You have the freedom to do so, which is yet another treasure of my King.)

Anyway, I have considered enough for one blog. It’s very late now and I’m tired – it’s taken 10 minutes just to write that as I’ve dozed off between words. It’s good to rest, so wherever you’re at now, take a nap.

My friends, consider your days. And be free.