Hello all!
I promised you a link to the blog I'll be keeping this summer while in Siquijor Island, Philippines, so, tada! Here it is:
http://filipinosummer.wordpress.com
May you all enjoy the summer that awaits you.
In His love,
Bethany
bethanyharbison@gmail.com
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Farewell for now
Only a few days of classes stretch before us — and after that, a week of exams and we’re through. Done. Finished.
This semester has left me battered. And if the tired looks and dark circles that grace the faces of my classmates are any indication, I am far, far from being alone in that sentiment.
As the remaining days dwindle, we seem to be losing steam — as evidenced by my abandonment of this blog for the last couple of weeks.
My body is still here — mechanically carrying out the motions of life as a student. I go to class and sit in the desk, but I am doing little more than occupying space.
Part of my heart has gone home, yes. Home to Holly Pond, where I hope to spend the precious month of May with my family.
And another part of my heart — a part filled with excitement and apprehension — has taken up residence on the other side of the Earth, on a tiny Filipino island called Siquijor.
I’ll be spending roughly two months there, doing missions as a part of Nehemiah Team, and I’m thrilled and terrified about it all at the same time.
If you wish to keep tabs on me and Kenny (who will be doing Habitat for Humanity work in a different area of the
Thank you for reading, friends. Thank you, whomever you may be, for allowing me this place to spill out my heart. God bless.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
I stand amazed
Before I could walk, before I could talk — I was in church. Year after year shifted me from Sunday school class to Sunday school class, but the message remained the same. For a week every summer, I joined my peers in drinking syrupy Kool-aid, playing games, making chintzy crafts and learning stories and verses from the Bible. As I grew older, I loaded up on mission trip after mission trip and took my turn sharing the stories so deeply ingrained into my mind.
I said all that to say this: This Christianity business is nothing new to me. I know the stories, many of them backwards and forwards. I know the characters, sure.
But I also sit here on this Sunday morning and admit that all the knowledge I have — and many of you have as well — doesn’t mean too much. It’s only one piece of the puzzle.
The past two weeks have allowed me the privilege to be a part of a study of the book of John with a friend who is learning it all for the first time. And I must say that as I sat in that circle, watching the expression on my friend’s face as they hear of Jesus’ birth and miracles and sacrifice — God has convicted my heart.
For as my friend takes it all in with wide eyes and a big smile, I have realized that my own wonder, my own awe has faded as I have grown older.
Take the Christmas story, the story of Jesus’ birth. How many of us can say we take the time to be amazed — shocked, even — by the fact Mary was a virgin?
Take the story of the woman at the well. How often do we sit and reflect upon how Jesus used a Samaritan adulteress to help spread the news of His identity to Samaria? And how did he know of those five husbands of hers anyway?
And take good ole John 3:16—
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, so that whosoever believed him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.”
It is memorized by church children early on — myself included — and is used as the theme of many a sermon and many a tract.
And rightly so. For its words, though few, sum up the theme of the thousands of pages that fill the Holy Bible. But how many times do I stand and mechanically recite the precious words? More than I dare say.
But on this morning, join me in reflecting, with hearts full of wonder and awe, on this mighty God we serve. One who loved us so much, even in our sins and blunders, that he offered up his one and only, pure and perfect Son for our sake. And he sent Him here knowing full well, even planning, that we would kill him — brutally and cruelly. Why? To offer you and I an opportunity to delve into the pages of His word, believe His story and live with Him forever in heaven.
The stories we teach our children and absorb ourselves are key, yes. But let us not forget to take time to sit in wonder. And let us teach our children to stand amazed.
“O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord. You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.” Psalm 139: 1-6
I said all that to say this: This Christianity business is nothing new to me. I know the stories, many of them backwards and forwards. I know the characters, sure.
But I also sit here on this Sunday morning and admit that all the knowledge I have — and many of you have as well — doesn’t mean too much. It’s only one piece of the puzzle.
The past two weeks have allowed me the privilege to be a part of a study of the book of John with a friend who is learning it all for the first time. And I must say that as I sat in that circle, watching the expression on my friend’s face as they hear of Jesus’ birth and miracles and sacrifice — God has convicted my heart.
For as my friend takes it all in with wide eyes and a big smile, I have realized that my own wonder, my own awe has faded as I have grown older.
Take the Christmas story, the story of Jesus’ birth. How many of us can say we take the time to be amazed — shocked, even — by the fact Mary was a virgin?
Take the story of the woman at the well. How often do we sit and reflect upon how Jesus used a Samaritan adulteress to help spread the news of His identity to Samaria? And how did he know of those five husbands of hers anyway?
And take good ole John 3:16—
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, so that whosoever believed him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.”
It is memorized by church children early on — myself included — and is used as the theme of many a sermon and many a tract.
And rightly so. For its words, though few, sum up the theme of the thousands of pages that fill the Holy Bible. But how many times do I stand and mechanically recite the precious words? More than I dare say.
But on this morning, join me in reflecting, with hearts full of wonder and awe, on this mighty God we serve. One who loved us so much, even in our sins and blunders, that he offered up his one and only, pure and perfect Son for our sake. And he sent Him here knowing full well, even planning, that we would kill him — brutally and cruelly. Why? To offer you and I an opportunity to delve into the pages of His word, believe His story and live with Him forever in heaven.
The stories we teach our children and absorb ourselves are key, yes. But let us not forget to take time to sit in wonder. And let us teach our children to stand amazed.
“O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord. You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.” Psalm 139: 1-6
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
My humble purpose
This morning, as I sat at my desk making final changes to this week’s Chanticleer, the stresses of my work and my life seemed smaller somehow. For as my own brow furrowed with concern over whether to capitalize this or that and whether to place this comma here or there, a gentleman sat quietly in my office, while all the while he ran the largest news organization in the world.
Arthur Sulzberger Jr. is the chairman and publisher of The New York Times Company, and for one day, Mr. Sulzberger descended upon
So, I went on with tackling the issues of my life — such as which reporters I should send to which lecture or blood drive (riveting, I know) — while he sat reading his newspaper. His newspaper.
I felt small, yes. Insignificant, yes. But would I trade places with this man? No, never.
By no means does my life boast as large a footprint as Mr. Sulzberger or others, but at the same time, it is a life I have been given by the grace of God, and it is a life that I am determined to live with vitality.
To some, my ambitions for my future seem small. And they’re right. This small town girl has no desire to make a city like
And whether or not that ambition leads me to an impressive position with an impressive organization like The New York Times (emphasis on the not), I am satisfied — satisfied with the life God has carved out for me. I believe in my God, the God who has saved me from myself and the ways of the world, and I believe in the purpose He has set in my heart.
I hope Mr. Sulzberger can say the same.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
An ambassador
"We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ's behalf: Be reconciled to God. God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God."
2 Corinthians 5:20-21
The word ambassador inspires in me a mind full of images, but one dominates —that of a dressed-up dignitary from a foreign country, serving as a peacemaker between the nations.
An ambassador is, essentially, a representative. A go-between. Someone to be that one person, one life that will form the world’s view of whatever or whomever he or she represents. We can represent countries, clubs, businesses or families, and whether consciously or not, we do every single day.
And as a Christian, as someone who has dedicated my life to the work of Christ (though each day I slip at fall while working at this task), I am here on Earth to represent Him. And whether my decisions are positive or poor, whether my friendships are strong or struggling, whether I walk tall or fall, I do represent Him — for better or for worse.
Christ did the unthinkable for me and for you. He was innocent and pure, yet He took the weighty sins of the world upon Himself and died a death of thieves and murderers.
And it is up to me (and you, if you know Him —and I pray you do) to stand up, wherever we are and whatever we are doing to represent Christ, and represent Him as best we can.
The world is rarely going to like what we have to say, but it is these words (for they are His, not mine) that can save. It is His words that will change this world. So speak up and speak out, speaking His truth in love, and if you see me around campus, remind me to do the same. We are therefore His ambassadors, and we implore our friends, our families, those we love on His behalf.
2 Corinthians 5:20-21
The word ambassador inspires in me a mind full of images, but one dominates —that of a dressed-up dignitary from a foreign country, serving as a peacemaker between the nations.
An ambassador is, essentially, a representative. A go-between. Someone to be that one person, one life that will form the world’s view of whatever or whomever he or she represents. We can represent countries, clubs, businesses or families, and whether consciously or not, we do every single day.
And as a Christian, as someone who has dedicated my life to the work of Christ (though each day I slip at fall while working at this task), I am here on Earth to represent Him. And whether my decisions are positive or poor, whether my friendships are strong or struggling, whether I walk tall or fall, I do represent Him — for better or for worse.
Christ did the unthinkable for me and for you. He was innocent and pure, yet He took the weighty sins of the world upon Himself and died a death of thieves and murderers.
And it is up to me (and you, if you know Him —and I pray you do) to stand up, wherever we are and whatever we are doing to represent Christ, and represent Him as best we can.
The world is rarely going to like what we have to say, but it is these words (for they are His, not mine) that can save. It is His words that will change this world. So speak up and speak out, speaking His truth in love, and if you see me around campus, remind me to do the same. We are therefore His ambassadors, and we implore our friends, our families, those we love on His behalf.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Shades of gray
"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will.
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
Romans 8:26-28
'We do not know what we ought to pray for,' Paul says. Have you ever felt like that-- as though your words have slipped away? Have you ever looked around and saw this world as one of mottled shades of gray-- and found yourself wishing for the crisp, clean comfort of black and white? Have you ever sank to the depths of depression-- and wondered where, if, how there is a way out?
I write to you tonight from the bottom of the pit. The deep, dank, dark pit. The walls impose upon me, and a chill rises up from the floor. I am cold, I am tired and my heart longs for the voice of my God.
Loneliness seeps into my heart, but I am not alone. There are others here, but they too are wounded. They too have been silenced by the ways of the world.
But here, the burden of misery isn't lessened with company. Here, we speak words of hurt to one another. Here, we are too busy and too tired to extend a love that is patient and kind. And here, we become so consumed with the chill of the pit that we forget how we arrived.
My story is just a wisp of a memory to me now, but one thing I know:
I crawled down here. Of my own volition, of my own choosing. Of my own fault.
It was I who invited sin into my life. It was I who crammed my days with meaningless work. It was I who turned my heart away from the love and forgiveness of my Father.
And it is I who, tonight, relinquish the reins once again to God. Each time I jerk them away from His hands, I find myself here. Here in the deep, dank, dark pit, with tears welling in my eyes.
"Oh God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you,
my body longs for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.
I have seen you in the sanctuary
and beheld your power and your glory.
Because your love is better than life,
my lips will glorify you.
I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise you.
On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
Because you are my help,
I sing in the shadow of your wings.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me."
Psalm 63: 1-8
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
Romans 8:26-28
'We do not know what we ought to pray for,' Paul says. Have you ever felt like that-- as though your words have slipped away? Have you ever looked around and saw this world as one of mottled shades of gray-- and found yourself wishing for the crisp, clean comfort of black and white? Have you ever sank to the depths of depression-- and wondered where, if, how there is a way out?
I write to you tonight from the bottom of the pit. The deep, dank, dark pit. The walls impose upon me, and a chill rises up from the floor. I am cold, I am tired and my heart longs for the voice of my God.
Loneliness seeps into my heart, but I am not alone. There are others here, but they too are wounded. They too have been silenced by the ways of the world.
But here, the burden of misery isn't lessened with company. Here, we speak words of hurt to one another. Here, we are too busy and too tired to extend a love that is patient and kind. And here, we become so consumed with the chill of the pit that we forget how we arrived.
My story is just a wisp of a memory to me now, but one thing I know:
I crawled down here. Of my own volition, of my own choosing. Of my own fault.
It was I who invited sin into my life. It was I who crammed my days with meaningless work. It was I who turned my heart away from the love and forgiveness of my Father.
And it is I who, tonight, relinquish the reins once again to God. Each time I jerk them away from His hands, I find myself here. Here in the deep, dank, dark pit, with tears welling in my eyes.
"Oh God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you,
my body longs for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.
I have seen you in the sanctuary
and beheld your power and your glory.
Because your love is better than life,
my lips will glorify you.
I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise you.
On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
Because you are my help,
I sing in the shadow of your wings.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me."
Psalm 63: 1-8
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Why am I here?
By the time I could walk, I'd already been pelted with the age-old question countless times:
What do you want to be when you grow up?
My answers and those of my peers changed from year to year and day to day . . . for a brief time, I replied, "a singer," my friend Mary once dreamed of being a garbage-man (well, garbage-woman, I suppose) and my cousin Stephanie used to dream of being an Indian. As we all grew up, we grew wise to the ways of the world and our aspirations became more logical. Concrete. Attainable.
I, who could not and cannot carry the proverbial tune in the proverbial bucket, had no hope of catching my big break in the entertainment industry. I went on to dream of being an artist, and for a long time, I found the term "starving artist" glamorous and appealing. Then I wondered about illustrating and writing children's books. Or writing and designing greeting cards. Or this. Or that.
My dream morphed each day, and I recall being a senior in high school (not that it was too terribly long ago) trying so hard to figure out where I was supposed to go, what I was supposed to do. I prayed, prayed, prayed for direction. I searched my Bible for guidance. I knew that whatever I did, wherever I went to school, I wanted to serve God. I wanted to live a life that spoke boldly of His beauty and grace.
So. Here I am. I wonder every single day if I made the right choice . . . and from a career standpoint, I'm not at all certain. I do, however, feel confident that skills in writing and communications can and will translate into a number of fields, leaving me with endless possibilities.
Amid all the wondering and the questions (like do I seriously want to live from daily deadline to deadline in the newspaper world?), the words of a great man, one whose devotion to Christ is an inspiration, came at the perfect time Tuesday night.
"You are where you are on this campus, doing what you're doing for a reason. Your life touches people that no one else in this room could touch," said campus minister Gary Brittain.
The best part? Gary wasn't just talking to me-- he spoke to a roomful of college students who, like me, long to make a difference on this campus and in the world.
I am where I am (at the corner desk in the Chanticleer office) because God put me there.
So, friends, it is with a smiling heart and a brighter spirit that I will walk the path that is my life. And we all will wait and see what it is that He had in mind.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
My answers and those of my peers changed from year to year and day to day . . . for a brief time, I replied, "a singer," my friend Mary once dreamed of being a garbage-man (well, garbage-woman, I suppose) and my cousin Stephanie used to dream of being an Indian. As we all grew up, we grew wise to the ways of the world and our aspirations became more logical. Concrete. Attainable.
I, who could not and cannot carry the proverbial tune in the proverbial bucket, had no hope of catching my big break in the entertainment industry. I went on to dream of being an artist, and for a long time, I found the term "starving artist" glamorous and appealing. Then I wondered about illustrating and writing children's books. Or writing and designing greeting cards. Or this. Or that.
My dream morphed each day, and I recall being a senior in high school (not that it was too terribly long ago) trying so hard to figure out where I was supposed to go, what I was supposed to do. I prayed, prayed, prayed for direction. I searched my Bible for guidance. I knew that whatever I did, wherever I went to school, I wanted to serve God. I wanted to live a life that spoke boldly of His beauty and grace.
So. Here I am. I wonder every single day if I made the right choice . . . and from a career standpoint, I'm not at all certain. I do, however, feel confident that skills in writing and communications can and will translate into a number of fields, leaving me with endless possibilities.
Amid all the wondering and the questions (like do I seriously want to live from daily deadline to deadline in the newspaper world?), the words of a great man, one whose devotion to Christ is an inspiration, came at the perfect time Tuesday night.
"You are where you are on this campus, doing what you're doing for a reason. Your life touches people that no one else in this room could touch," said campus minister Gary Brittain.
The best part? Gary wasn't just talking to me-- he spoke to a roomful of college students who, like me, long to make a difference on this campus and in the world.
I am where I am (at the corner desk in the Chanticleer office) because God put me there.
So, friends, it is with a smiling heart and a brighter spirit that I will walk the path that is my life. And we all will wait and see what it is that He had in mind.
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