July 2009

You are currently browsing the monthly archive for July 2009.

I’ve been writing for myMISSIONfulfilled, a Woman’s Missionary Union Web site geared toward young women, for the past couple of months, and I wanted to point you in the direction of some of the articles in lieu of posting a real entry.  Happy reading!

Ancient History: How Archaeology Enhances Our Study of Scripture.  Archaeology has made the news a lot lately as talk about the ossuary of James and the discovery of the Gospel of Judas has brought it to the forefront of our attention. But archaeology is more than bone boxes and controversial ancient documents. . . . It can actually enhance our study of Scripture.

Parthenon, Shmarthenon: Paul’s Speech in Athens.  Thoughts of ancient Greece bring to mind gods, goddesses, philosophy, the Olympics, and the Parthenon. Paul’s words about idolatry weren’t spoken in a vacuum. He was looking right at the Parthenon when he talked about temples built with human hands, and still he proclaimed the superiority of God.

Losing My Voice: How the Psalms Helped Me Find It.  When I was so frustrated with God that I didn’t know what to say, Psalms gave me the words I desperately needed and taught me how to pray again.

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As I turned on the news this morning, images of President Obama touring Cape Coast Castle in Ghana and speaking to the Ghanaian people greeted me.  Just a year and a half ago, I walked through the same slave fortress and saw the same sights, and viewing them on TV brought the memories to the forefront of my mind.  In honor of Obama’s Ghanaian visit, I thought I would post a journal entry I wrote shortly after returning home about my experience at Cape Coast.  It was a sobering and powerful time, and I will never forget it.

For some background information, Cape Coast is just one of several slave fortresses along the African coast. It was a holding tank for Africans while their handlers waited for boats from the Americas to arrive and carry them out.

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Nearly eight years ago, I took Intro. to Philosophy at Mississippi State with Dr. Michael Clifford.  He scared me.  I had heard that he could be rough on Christians, and when I saw the first assignment on our syllabus, I knew I was in trouble.  In one paragraph, answer the question “What is the meaning of life?”.  I swallowed hard and dreaded the assignment, but that night, I sat down at my computer (the same one I’m typing on now, if you can believe it) and wrote the following words.

To understand the meaning of my life, you have to understand my God.  I serve a holy and mighty God, and the sole purpose of my life is to glorify my Lord and Master; I live for nothing else. My life revolves around developing a deep and personal relationship with the One that I call Savior.  Life on this earth is just the beginning of our existence; I will spend eternity in heaven with my Father. Maybe this sounds strange to you.  Maybe it sounds familiar.  Can I prove this to you?  Well, no, I can’t, but I also can’t believe anything else is true… It would be a sad world if we had no reason for living.  If everything ends at death, then what is the point of life at all?  I have found truth in the teachings of the Holy Bible, and it is the standard I follow.  I live my life by faith, trusting that a God higher than anything we can ever imagine has my life in his hands, and he knows what’s best for me.  So, if you ask me the meaning of life, I can only give you one answer, and that is to serve my God.

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I spent the first five months of my marriage cooped up in a 750 square foot apartment watching the Food Network and HGTV all day long.  I couldn’t find a job anywhere doing anything. I couldn’t remember who I was or what I was doing.  Prior to the wedding, I had commenced work on a Master of Divinity degree in Texas, but when my fiancé, who lived in Mississippi, struggled to find a job anywhere near me, I took a deep breath, finished up the semester, packed my bags and moved home.  It was a voluntary decision, but when I became the woman who followed her man instead of the woman who followed her dreams, I lost my identity.

I transferred schools and resumed classes just one school year after I left Texas, and soon got caught up in the busy-ness of school life.  I was back on track with my calling and dreams in sight.  When people asked me about myself, I had an answer: “I’m working on my Master of Divinity.”  My identity as a student was restored, and I had a nametag for people to read: “Leslie Ann Jones, seminary student.”

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