Personal Experience

Writings of an autobiographical nature

Earlier this month, another Seed contributor, Andrew,  and I attended Chapter Camp with Intervarsity. It was an awesome time for many reasons, but really it was all about the bible study. That consumed our time and minds and energy. We studied the first half of Mark, aka “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” We’ll study the second half next summer.  It’s not that I’ve never studied any  Mark before, but this time I saw God as huge and mysterious, the way he really is. I had so many questions, and so did everyone else. I am so glad that we weren’t satisfied leaving the pieces of Mark at what we’d heard that this or that was supposed to mean for us but  kept digging.  The great thing is that we prayerfully approached what we didn’t understand, began to understand, and were moved by it. We all came to the table leaving behind what we thought we already knew and just read what Mark had to say. God worked in that. I saw Jesus as love and a man and I was moved to tears when he cured Legion.  We let Jesus be Jesus and he met me there. Too often, I don’t experience the reality and magnitude of Jesus when approaching  the bible. This time was entirely refreshing.

Just today, thinking about all of this,  I found an article by Tim Keller, “Preaching in a Post Modern City.” He gives an interesting perspective on how we live and fail to live gospel centered lives. He talks about how we become the  changed people that we desire to be and are supposed to be. Speaking about virtue he says,” it particularly grows by a faith-sight of the glory of Christ and his salvation.” I believe that to be true, that seeing Jesus is powerful and causes us to move. He also says, “Is [the gospel] basically about what I must do, or basically about what he has done?”

As my and your friend from SEED, Ruthie, and I sat in the Atlanta Airport for 46 hours trying to get home from our spring break mission trip, we wondered how this struggle of dashed hopes and confusion would affect the memories of our trip. We had just experienced the most amazing week of serving and being served by the community of Harmons, Jamaica. Would we dwell on the torments of a two day layover? Would we curse Delta Airlines, the funny little man who kept giving us misinformation, or the whole city of Atlanta?

Each evening of the trip, all 26 participants would sit in a circle for a time for reflection. The final evening, the reflections were dominated by questions of whether or not we could really take the lessons we learned back to our normal lives. I know I’ve previously felt similar spiritual ‘highs’ after a great retreat or trip. They always seemed to fade to some degree though when faced with entrance back into a lukewarm Christian American society. This might have been the case, given my travel woes, had I not received the most inspiring faith I’ve heard in a long time on this very trip.

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by James Tuttle

I met Sarah Palin at a book signing. I said, “Having autism, I really appreciate what you do as a special-needs mom.”

She said, “Thanks for the encouragement. How old are you?”

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Second semester senior.

Every Sunday evening, I’d stare at the big grandfather clock…waiting, wishing.  7:45pm. It takes me five minutes to get there…I’m too anxious, so I leave. 

I walk up the dark streets, watching the light bulbs flicker off when I come their way.  The streets are covered in acorns.  Acorns and cicadas. 

Their dead skins crackle beneath my instep.

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Second year of high school.

Everything was going great for me: I was a straight-A student, on the varsity basketball team, was the youngest in my ballet class to start toe shoes, and my family and social lives were going great.  Perfect, right?  Well, it wasn’t.

I attended church, but never paid much attention—I didn’t think I should have to…I felt pretty satisfied with my life already.  It came the time for me to get confirmed and I had to take a Catholic education class in order to do so.

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by Natalie Plumb

[Editor's note: Natalie is the Poet Laureate of Seed.  She is a Penn State undergraduate majoring in Communications, is an active member of everything, and likes to drive editors crazy by including unusual typographical symbols in her writing.  Enjoy.]

Wait a second…

I have always heard that one’s five closest friends added together, give or take a few complimentary idiosyncrasies, mixed up, and spit out—personality, humor, charm, morals and all—equals oneself.  Because truth is, we choose our friends based off of these criteria.  If we don’t smoke, any smoker “friends” we may have are probably better titled “acquaintances”.  We bond with who we relate to.  To what degree this is true, I know not.  But I have been an inhabitant of this earth long enough to know that most of the time, it proves to be true.  One night I sat on my bed pondering all of this.  I thought about all the cliques in my high school and how alike those within each clique were.  They were all on the same sports teams, went everywhere together, loved the same movies, laughed at the same kind of humor.  I thought…and I thought. 

Then I thought, why am I so different?

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