Taryn R. Hutchison's Blog: The Glorious Muddle, page 40
October 18, 2011
Evangelism: The Latest Cool Thing on Campus
Today, on college campuses across the country, evangelism is on the rise. That's right; I said evangelism. And I don't just mean Christian students engaging their classmates in discussions about the good news of Jesus. Secular companies are now using a tactic they call "brand evangelism" to promote their product, with the aim of turning lost students into customers. The New York Times refers to it as "The Commercial Campus."
According to Mr. Youth, the marketing agency behind this phenomenon, "It's not enough for brands to have a message. They need to start a conversation." The company believes in the power of word-of-mouth and personal testimony. Students are hired by various companies to become so-called "brand ambassadors" or "campus evangelists." They create a buzz about the product, ranging from large events to discreetly asking a fellow ambassador, in earshot of other students, where they got their cute shirt.
I thought "evangelism" was a dirty word. I assumed people in today's culture, devoid of absolutes, would shun the thought of persuading someone to adopt any viewpoint. But I guess it's OK unless the viewpoint violates the one taboo: speaking out about Jesus Christ.
For those of us who have a personal relationship with Christ, withholding the good news from others is the equivalent of knowing the cure to cancer and keeping it to ourselves. We should take a tip from the brand evangelists. We don't need to shy away from starting conversations and building relationships any longer. After all, American Eagle and Target do it. And their product doesn't bring lasting joy, peace, and fulfillment. Only Jesus does.
According to Mr. Youth, the marketing agency behind this phenomenon, "It's not enough for brands to have a message. They need to start a conversation." The company believes in the power of word-of-mouth and personal testimony. Students are hired by various companies to become so-called "brand ambassadors" or "campus evangelists." They create a buzz about the product, ranging from large events to discreetly asking a fellow ambassador, in earshot of other students, where they got their cute shirt.
I thought "evangelism" was a dirty word. I assumed people in today's culture, devoid of absolutes, would shun the thought of persuading someone to adopt any viewpoint. But I guess it's OK unless the viewpoint violates the one taboo: speaking out about Jesus Christ.
For those of us who have a personal relationship with Christ, withholding the good news from others is the equivalent of knowing the cure to cancer and keeping it to ourselves. We should take a tip from the brand evangelists. We don't need to shy away from starting conversations and building relationships any longer. After all, American Eagle and Target do it. And their product doesn't bring lasting joy, peace, and fulfillment. Only Jesus does.
October 10, 2011
A Barefoot Weekend
My brain has had a work-out (rare these days) and I'm tired. I have spent the weekend at a nearby Romanian church for a homecoming with the strange name of "Barefoot." About 400 Romanian expatriates descended in Hickory, North Carolina – coming from Georgia, Chicago, Florida, and Detroit – for three marathon days of praising God. The tradition began back in the old country, in the city of Arad. A choir director had a difficult time reigning in his singers, who wanted to improvise with different instruments or by singing their own way. The director said that first they must follow his rules, but after that, they could sing barefoot if they wanted. This annual get-together is the equivalent of "singing barefoot." There is never a set program, but all the varied pieces (sharing, music, prayer, and piles of food) fit together to make a beautiful mosaic, incense rising before the throne of God.
When I arrived in the parking lot, the first thing I noticed was the absence of Dacias (the only car available in Romania during the days I lived there). I was a bit apprehensive because of my language ability and the fact that I didn't know anyone. A friend of a friend who I'd yet to meet had invited me. By the time the weekend ended, I'd made many new friends. As always, the Romanians easily welcomed me into their hearts. It turns out that several of them knew some of my Romanian staff friends, so we instantly had a common bond.
I shouldn't have been concerned about language. Most of the teenagers, although they could understand their mother tongue, only spoke in English. I was pleased that I could understand almost everything - except for one man who spoke really quickly, that is. And when I stood up to introduce myself and speak to the group, people told me I did OK (but perhaps they were just being gracious). At least, I hope I expressed my heart to them even if the words weren't always the right ones.
My heart is full. I never knew any Romanians in Marin County, and now there's a whole community close by. I've seen yet another evidence, as if there isn't enough already, of why this is the place that God lovingly chose for Steve and I. And I'm thankful.
When I arrived in the parking lot, the first thing I noticed was the absence of Dacias (the only car available in Romania during the days I lived there). I was a bit apprehensive because of my language ability and the fact that I didn't know anyone. A friend of a friend who I'd yet to meet had invited me. By the time the weekend ended, I'd made many new friends. As always, the Romanians easily welcomed me into their hearts. It turns out that several of them knew some of my Romanian staff friends, so we instantly had a common bond.
I shouldn't have been concerned about language. Most of the teenagers, although they could understand their mother tongue, only spoke in English. I was pleased that I could understand almost everything - except for one man who spoke really quickly, that is. And when I stood up to introduce myself and speak to the group, people told me I did OK (but perhaps they were just being gracious). At least, I hope I expressed my heart to them even if the words weren't always the right ones.
My heart is full. I never knew any Romanians in Marin County, and now there's a whole community close by. I've seen yet another evidence, as if there isn't enough already, of why this is the place that God lovingly chose for Steve and I. And I'm thankful.
October 7, 2011
My Favorite Season
I love autumn. The cooler temperatures harken new beginnings and fresh starts. As a child, I looked forward to the start of a new school year and burying my nose in fresh-smelling textbooks. Autumn is the reward for Southerners who survived summer's humid heat. And few places are more breathtaking than the mountains we see from our backyard.
Only a few weeks ago, the trees were one single hue of fresh green, blended like melted crayons to become a multi-faceted candle, dimensional in its depths and highlights. But change is in the crisp air. Some trees, like soloists, are beginning to step out from the choir and show off their unique voices, individual singers adding to the beauty of the whole of God's artistry. The rich nuances range from bright saffron yellow to gold, copper, pumpkin, russet, deep claret red, and everything in between.
Steve and I just returned from a quick getaway to North Carolina's Crystal Coast, a last fling before winter's arrival and (hopefully) before I land a job. I love the beach in early fall, empty of the summer's tourists, with its invigorating mornings and sunny afternoons. Not only are prices greatly reduced, but our small contribution was put to good use; every fifth roof was being repaired after the hurricane.
While surrounded by landscape so similar to that of my roots, I felt a pang of homesickness for the Eastern Shore of Maryland. There is one geography that feels right to each of us, and that is usually the one of our childhood. For me, it's rivers and oceans, marshes and flat farmland.
Before ordering crab cakes at a beachside café, I asked the waitress to describe them. She told me they were good, just not Maryland crab cakes; so unless I was from Maryland, I'd love them. "I am from Maryland," I admitted, causing her anxiety level to rise. She warned the chef who came out later to beg for my expert culinary opinion. His crab cakes were very light and tasty, but I'm glad he didn't try to copy my state's recipe. It's better not to mess with perfection. Autumn at the beach . . . that's about as close to perfect as we'll get.
Only a few weeks ago, the trees were one single hue of fresh green, blended like melted crayons to become a multi-faceted candle, dimensional in its depths and highlights. But change is in the crisp air. Some trees, like soloists, are beginning to step out from the choir and show off their unique voices, individual singers adding to the beauty of the whole of God's artistry. The rich nuances range from bright saffron yellow to gold, copper, pumpkin, russet, deep claret red, and everything in between.
Steve and I just returned from a quick getaway to North Carolina's Crystal Coast, a last fling before winter's arrival and (hopefully) before I land a job. I love the beach in early fall, empty of the summer's tourists, with its invigorating mornings and sunny afternoons. Not only are prices greatly reduced, but our small contribution was put to good use; every fifth roof was being repaired after the hurricane.
While surrounded by landscape so similar to that of my roots, I felt a pang of homesickness for the Eastern Shore of Maryland. There is one geography that feels right to each of us, and that is usually the one of our childhood. For me, it's rivers and oceans, marshes and flat farmland.
Before ordering crab cakes at a beachside café, I asked the waitress to describe them. She told me they were good, just not Maryland crab cakes; so unless I was from Maryland, I'd love them. "I am from Maryland," I admitted, causing her anxiety level to rise. She warned the chef who came out later to beg for my expert culinary opinion. His crab cakes were very light and tasty, but I'm glad he didn't try to copy my state's recipe. It's better not to mess with perfection. Autumn at the beach . . . that's about as close to perfect as we'll get.
September 29, 2011
Ordinary People Doing the Extraordinary
Before September draws to a close, I wanted to tell you a story of deliverance on 9/11. It is the untold tale of how the 500,000 people stranded on Lower Manhattan on that horrible day were saved. In just nine hours, a fleet of ferry boats and ordinary citizens' private boats evacuated them to safety. Some would call this a miracle. I call it an amazing example of selflessness. Ordinary people did what they could to help. It wasn't supernatural; but it's far from usual. It was extraordinary.
(For some reason, this blog is not letting me add the link for you to see a video about this, narrated by Tom Hanks. If you go to YouTube, just type in "Boatlift, An Untold Tale of 9/11 Resilience," and you can watch this inspiring video.)
The boatlift on 9/11 reminded me of one of my favorite events in history, called the Miracle of Dunkirk. During World War II, British and French troops were stranded on the beaches of Dunkirk, France. They were cut off by the German army, about to perish or be captured. King George VI (the stuttering king from "The King's Speech" fame) called for an unprecedented week of prayer. The Archbishop of Canterbury led prayers for "our soldiers in dire peril." British citizens, already war-weary, fell on their knees to join their hearts in asking God to help their countrymen and then put feet to those prayers. Ordinary people in 850 ordinary fishing boats, life rafts, and pleasure crafts responded immediately to help.The "little ships of Dunkirk" rescued 345,000 soldiers, shuttling them across the English Channel during the days from May 26 until June 3, 1940. Winston Churchill later called the rescue the Miracle of Deliverance.
The people stranded on Lower Manhattan were also in dire peril. And it was also ordinary people who came to rescue them, doing the extraordinary.
September 24, 2011
Celebration of Commas, Colons, and Parentheses
Today, September 24, is National Punctuation Day! If, like me, rampant punctuation errors - apostrophe abuse and comma catastrophes - make you crazy, this is our day to celebrate. We are not alone! Check out the official website: http://www.nationalpunctuationday.com/ .
Every time I read a restaurant menu, church bulletin, or newspaper article laden with mistakes (either punctuation, grammar, or spelling), I wonder how I can hire myself out as a proofreader. Is it really that difficult to notice the squiggly green or red lines appearing on your computer screen, begging you to make a change? Heck, if they only asked before printing, I would check it for free.
Herb Caen, beloved Pulitzer-prize winning newspaperman (which he called Pullet Surprise), started an Apostrophe Posse to help fill in grammatical potholes. Herb had a column in the San Francisco Chronicle from the 1930s until his death in 1997, with a brief interlude in the 1950s when he wrote for the San Francisco Examiner. He deputized apostrophe police to collect evidence of grammatical mishaps, like Jay Leno's Headlines segment, but going further by empowering them to make citizens' arrests.
I wish that posse was still around. The other day, I screamed when I read this sentence – "Him and Carrie had went to the store" – and it wasn't in dialogue. (Note: If you found one error in that sentence, look harder. There are two.) When every sentence ends in an exclamation point, isn't that the grammatical equivalent of crying wolf? Why would anyone believe you if you did have a genuinely astonishing fact to convey?
But my pet peeve has to be the improper use of apostrophes. The humble apostrophe has only two functions: to show ownership (Taryn's pet peeve) and to show a missing letter in a contraction (She isn't really crazy but she won't stop ranting). Apostrophes do NOT make nouns plural. "On Sunday's, the church's in the area serve lunch's" is not correct; it should be "On Sundays, the churches in the area serve lunches."
If you think Punctuation Day is fun - and who doesn't - just wait until March 4 . . . National Grammar Day!
Every time I read a restaurant menu, church bulletin, or newspaper article laden with mistakes (either punctuation, grammar, or spelling), I wonder how I can hire myself out as a proofreader. Is it really that difficult to notice the squiggly green or red lines appearing on your computer screen, begging you to make a change? Heck, if they only asked before printing, I would check it for free.
Herb Caen, beloved Pulitzer-prize winning newspaperman (which he called Pullet Surprise), started an Apostrophe Posse to help fill in grammatical potholes. Herb had a column in the San Francisco Chronicle from the 1930s until his death in 1997, with a brief interlude in the 1950s when he wrote for the San Francisco Examiner. He deputized apostrophe police to collect evidence of grammatical mishaps, like Jay Leno's Headlines segment, but going further by empowering them to make citizens' arrests.
I wish that posse was still around. The other day, I screamed when I read this sentence – "Him and Carrie had went to the store" – and it wasn't in dialogue. (Note: If you found one error in that sentence, look harder. There are two.) When every sentence ends in an exclamation point, isn't that the grammatical equivalent of crying wolf? Why would anyone believe you if you did have a genuinely astonishing fact to convey?
But my pet peeve has to be the improper use of apostrophes. The humble apostrophe has only two functions: to show ownership (Taryn's pet peeve) and to show a missing letter in a contraction (She isn't really crazy but she won't stop ranting). Apostrophes do NOT make nouns plural. "On Sunday's, the church's in the area serve lunch's" is not correct; it should be "On Sundays, the churches in the area serve lunches."
If you think Punctuation Day is fun - and who doesn't - just wait until March 4 . . . National Grammar Day!
September 21, 2011
Beware of Falling Meteors
You might want to take cover. A plummeting six-ton satellite is predicted to hit Earth this week. It's expected to break into as many as 100 pieces, with the heaviest chunk weighing roughly 300 pounds. With the spacecraft traveling at a speed of 17,500 miles per hour (5 miles per second), scientists are having a hard time trying to pinpoint where it may touch down. It could land anywhere between latitudes 57 degrees north and 57 degrees south, so basically, on any continent except Antarctica. And anytime between Thursday and Saturday. With the odds of being struck at 1 in 21 trillion, maybe you don't need to take cover after all.
That is, unless you are my husband. Steve has a well-worn expression. "That's about as likely as a meteor falling out of the sky and hitting me on the head," he'll say. I generally reply that when the number of days that God ordained for him are up, probably the way he'll go is from a meteor hitting him on the head.
But the meteor, or in this case satellite, will have some stiff competition. My husband is hard-headed. And I don't just mean he's stubborn. His forehead has been forged into a substance as heavy as concrete. This bone-densifying process began when he was about seven years old and tangled with a fencepost. The substance grew stronger when he raced down a mountain road, at about age 23, flipping over his handlebars and landing on his forehead.
Any ideas where I might find a used tin helmet for Steve before tomorrow? Don't worry; I'm sure you'll be safe. By the way, if you do happen to come across a chunk of the satellite, it's against the law to keep it as a souvenir or sell it on craigslist. NASA claims it belongs to them.
That is, unless you are my husband. Steve has a well-worn expression. "That's about as likely as a meteor falling out of the sky and hitting me on the head," he'll say. I generally reply that when the number of days that God ordained for him are up, probably the way he'll go is from a meteor hitting him on the head.
But the meteor, or in this case satellite, will have some stiff competition. My husband is hard-headed. And I don't just mean he's stubborn. His forehead has been forged into a substance as heavy as concrete. This bone-densifying process began when he was about seven years old and tangled with a fencepost. The substance grew stronger when he raced down a mountain road, at about age 23, flipping over his handlebars and landing on his forehead.
Any ideas where I might find a used tin helmet for Steve before tomorrow? Don't worry; I'm sure you'll be safe. By the way, if you do happen to come across a chunk of the satellite, it's against the law to keep it as a souvenir or sell it on craigslist. NASA claims it belongs to them.
September 13, 2011
Thumbs Up!
Yesterday my book was added to my Romanian publisher's website! Even if you don't read Romanian, and probably most of you do not, it might be fun for you to check out the link for "V-am Asteptat." http://www.clcromania.ro/v-am-asteptat-slujindu-l-pe-dumnezeu-in-europa-de-est_prd10863.html
I loved finding a thumbs up button when I scrolled down below the write-up about the book. Romanians can click "Imi Place" ("I Like") to let people know they're a fan, and they can add comments. Many of my American friends have tried to post reviews on amazon or like my book's page on Facebook, and have ended up clicking on the wrong things. Whenever this happens, I always laugh since I stumble my way with technology and love to see that others are not techno-geniuses either. But I do realize that online comments and Like buttons help get the news out, so I'm hoping my Romanian friends can show the world how computer-savvy they are.
As thrillng as it is to have my book translated, what I'm most thankful for is the encouragement I've received from CLC Romania, my publishers. The director told me how excited she was to read my book again, as a finished product that she can hold in her hands. She closed her email to me with these words: "We pray for this book to be a blessing for the Romanian people."
So do I.
I loved finding a thumbs up button when I scrolled down below the write-up about the book. Romanians can click "Imi Place" ("I Like") to let people know they're a fan, and they can add comments. Many of my American friends have tried to post reviews on amazon or like my book's page on Facebook, and have ended up clicking on the wrong things. Whenever this happens, I always laugh since I stumble my way with technology and love to see that others are not techno-geniuses either. But I do realize that online comments and Like buttons help get the news out, so I'm hoping my Romanian friends can show the world how computer-savvy they are.
As thrillng as it is to have my book translated, what I'm most thankful for is the encouragement I've received from CLC Romania, my publishers. The director told me how excited she was to read my book again, as a finished product that she can hold in her hands. She closed her email to me with these words: "We pray for this book to be a blessing for the Romanian people."
So do I.
September 5, 2011
The Best of Americans
On Sunday the world will commemorate 10 years since that Tuesday morning when thousands of lives were senselessly taken and heroism was selflessly displayed. This week, the unforgettable images will be replayed. The clear day breaking over New York with its blue autumn skies. Firemen walking up the stairs, knowingly marching into danger. White ash covering lower Manhattan, like Krakow when the crematorium burned in Auschwitz. The countless funeral processions. People leaping out of the windows of the burning towers. The flag defiantly planted atop the twisted steel rubble that once was the World Trade Center - before the unimaginable evil descended upon us.
Every nation has distinctive characteristics. As Americans, we love freedom and independence; we tend to be friendly and open. But the quality of which I am most proud shines brightest in the darkness of tragedy when the best of our countrymen rises to the top like cream. In the wake of 9-11, Americans everywhere rallied to help those in need. People lined up to give blood, donated generously, and flocked to churches to pray. The 250-year-old St. Paul's Chapel, miraculously unscathed although it stands across the street from the World Trade Center, became the place of rest and refuge for the ones who, day after day and night after night, tirelessly searched for survivors.
Do you remember, as I do, strangers being kinder for the next several weeks and months? I witnessed a marked difference on the California freeways. The usually aggressive drivers treated each other with courtesy. People in lines at the grocery stores were more patient. Even though I lived in a part of the country where few American flags were visible, I saw the images of towns across our land proudly flying the red, white, and blue. We put aside our differences and came together to help. We care. That is the best of America. Why can't we display that quality without a natural disaster or national tragedy bringing it out? Why do we so quickly revert to lives wrapped around our personal pursuit of happiness? I have no answers today; only questions.
Every nation has distinctive characteristics. As Americans, we love freedom and independence; we tend to be friendly and open. But the quality of which I am most proud shines brightest in the darkness of tragedy when the best of our countrymen rises to the top like cream. In the wake of 9-11, Americans everywhere rallied to help those in need. People lined up to give blood, donated generously, and flocked to churches to pray. The 250-year-old St. Paul's Chapel, miraculously unscathed although it stands across the street from the World Trade Center, became the place of rest and refuge for the ones who, day after day and night after night, tirelessly searched for survivors.
Do you remember, as I do, strangers being kinder for the next several weeks and months? I witnessed a marked difference on the California freeways. The usually aggressive drivers treated each other with courtesy. People in lines at the grocery stores were more patient. Even though I lived in a part of the country where few American flags were visible, I saw the images of towns across our land proudly flying the red, white, and blue. We put aside our differences and came together to help. We care. That is the best of America. Why can't we display that quality without a natural disaster or national tragedy bringing it out? Why do we so quickly revert to lives wrapped around our personal pursuit of happiness? I have no answers today; only questions.
August 29, 2011
It's a Tight World After All
Today I'm listening to a sound which is, thankfully, not one I have heard lately. A power nail gun. You may recall that in the last place I lived, my landlady was addicted to renovating. A jackhammer replaced my alarm clock and a headache was my constant companion. I've found that the best part of home ownership is never having someone in our house with power tools unless we invite them, which has been rare.
I started out today grumbling that the workers we'd contracted to reface our kitchen cabinets (the poor person's alternative to replacement) were late. I expected them to be late. My personal theory is to triple whatever time frame they tell you. If they say it'll take one week, I count on three. If they say they'll come between 8:00-5:00, I'm convinced they'll arrive at 4:59. It's not just construction types; I don't believe anyone when they talk time. Maybe that comes from living in Eastern Europe and learning to expect the unexpected. Or maybe it's just reality. Doctors ask you to come 20 minutes early (so why don't they just change the appointment time?) and then see you 45 minutes late. When people tell me they want to talk for 10 seconds, I know they mean at least 15 minutes.
As soon as the guys arrived and introduced themselves, I heard their strong accents and my attitude changed. Turns out Alex, Dmitry, and Slav are from Moldova (one of my former countries) and Alex was even involved in Campus Crusade as a student. He claims to remember me from a conference I spoke at in 1998. While they started demolishing our cabinet doors, I got out my photo album so we could look at our friends in common. I was reminded of how much fun God must have as He weaves the tapestries of our days.
Dmitry summed it all up. "It's a tight world." I think he meant small. And it is.
I started out today grumbling that the workers we'd contracted to reface our kitchen cabinets (the poor person's alternative to replacement) were late. I expected them to be late. My personal theory is to triple whatever time frame they tell you. If they say it'll take one week, I count on three. If they say they'll come between 8:00-5:00, I'm convinced they'll arrive at 4:59. It's not just construction types; I don't believe anyone when they talk time. Maybe that comes from living in Eastern Europe and learning to expect the unexpected. Or maybe it's just reality. Doctors ask you to come 20 minutes early (so why don't they just change the appointment time?) and then see you 45 minutes late. When people tell me they want to talk for 10 seconds, I know they mean at least 15 minutes.
As soon as the guys arrived and introduced themselves, I heard their strong accents and my attitude changed. Turns out Alex, Dmitry, and Slav are from Moldova (one of my former countries) and Alex was even involved in Campus Crusade as a student. He claims to remember me from a conference I spoke at in 1998. While they started demolishing our cabinet doors, I got out my photo album so we could look at our friends in common. I was reminded of how much fun God must have as He weaves the tapestries of our days.
Dmitry summed it all up. "It's a tight world." I think he meant small. And it is.
August 26, 2011
Bracing for the Big One
Mere days after the earth shook in the first quake to hit Virginia since 1897, the East Coast is bracing for Hurricane Irene. She is due to strike my new home state of North Carolina early tomorrow morning, en route to my first home state of Maryland the next morning. New York City even has evacuation routes planned for the first earthquake to hit that far north since 1938. As a friend of mine said, "Are locusts next?" While we're safe here in the mountains, our coastal friends are battening down the hatches as they brace for the projected 115 mile-per-hour winds.
Meanwhile, I've been cleaning up in the aftermath of two other storms that struck our house last week: Hurricanes Lucy and Emmy, cute but deadly. They turned our house inside out and it's taken days to dig out from the rubble. Steve has been no help either, out of commission from their germ warfare levied against all who wandered into their paths. After finally getting everything put back in place, tomorrow I'll need to take it all out again – at least everything in the kitchen – in preparation for Monday's kitchen cabinet refacing. Chaos seems to be the new normal in our house.
As a former Californian who has experienced many earthquakes, the one this week was a mere tremor and, thankfully, caused minimal damage and no loss of life. Hurricane Irene, however, is a deadly threat. I pray people will be safe.
Meanwhile, I've been cleaning up in the aftermath of two other storms that struck our house last week: Hurricanes Lucy and Emmy, cute but deadly. They turned our house inside out and it's taken days to dig out from the rubble. Steve has been no help either, out of commission from their germ warfare levied against all who wandered into their paths. After finally getting everything put back in place, tomorrow I'll need to take it all out again – at least everything in the kitchen – in preparation for Monday's kitchen cabinet refacing. Chaos seems to be the new normal in our house.
As a former Californian who has experienced many earthquakes, the one this week was a mere tremor and, thankfully, caused minimal damage and no loss of life. Hurricane Irene, however, is a deadly threat. I pray people will be safe.
The Glorious Muddle
Life is messy and it’s also magnificent. Traces of grace can be found in both the mire of daily drudgery & the moments so spectacular that you know it has to God.
Beauty and adventure might be around t ...more
Beauty and adventure might be around t ...more
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