tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524652520922233562011-07-07T22:44:13.600-07:00jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.comBlogger331100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-26933509226113075182010-08-16T07:20:00.000-07:002010-08-16T07:20:21.005-07:00

I've jumped blogs. I'm now over at wordpress -- jenniferharrisdault.wordpress.com. You'll find sermons and ministry talk there.

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-23468542285103254352010-07-09T11:31:00.000-07:002010-07-09T11:31:31.094-07:00

(this was an assignment for the "Writing for Effect" class I'm in) A blank page can be terrifying. In my early college days, I assumed that once one gained the ever-elusive status of writer, words would flow effortlessly from pen – or keyboard – to paper. Those illusions (delusions?) quickly vanished, of course, but it is still comforting to hear other writers admit their easy-to-read stylings

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-22397265701790887202009-11-03T05:26:00.000-08:002009-11-03T05:57:55.881-08:00

I can't help but feel a little jolt of shock/excitement/fear/pride when Molly Marshall talks about Central's create program. In her recent blog post, she talks about a donor couple -- longtime supporters of Central -- who have decided to redirect their gifts to our program. They want to "sow seeds for the future," Molly suggested. The future. Someone believes that my 8 colleagues and I are the

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-2236197329780168292009-10-06T06:19:00.000-07:002009-10-06T06:25:31.923-07:00

My story is now on the CBTS Web site. Click on my face to read how I ended up at Central and to see a video of me making really goofy facial expressions (and thanks to Francisco, sounding far more coherent than I usually do!).

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-16184417776792684272009-07-08T14:40:00.000-07:002009-07-08T14:41:32.669-07:00

“You need a masters degree just to use a cell phone,” he said. If you met Darryl on the street, you’d scratch your head at his comment. A young, intelligent American, Darryl hardly seems the sort to be outsmarted by technology. But after spending 24 years in a maximum-security prison, Darryl is essentially a stranger in the modern world. I interviewed Darryl in January and was absolutely

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-67029662442499075432009-05-13T14:27:00.000-07:002009-05-13T14:32:16.004-07:00

When I was younger, I was a pirate. Granted I lived in Jackson, Tenn., which – while rhyming with it – is hardly part of the open sea. And I never hijacked anything, except maybe my little sister’s toys. But I was a pirate – I had the eye patch to prove it.A few months after I was born, I was diagnosed with amblyopia with strabismus – gigantic words for “a lazy eye and muscle problems.” I had

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-28603957293219746812009-05-07T11:39:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:02:05.623-07:00

This past weekend, I participated in my first contemplative retreat at Mystic Trace, the home of my friends Tom and Kathryn Boone.The weekend was certainly a learning experience for me. Contemplative practices have both scared and fascinated me, as they don't tend to be encouraged in my Baptist tradition. And having pure-O OCD certainly doesn't help with the quieting of the mind.But I found the

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-74518398100541632452009-05-01T06:15:00.000-07:002009-05-01T06:36:54.540-07:00

What happens when you gather a group of goofy, ministry-minded techies, photographers and writers and ask them to create? The Faith Lab.I've been a fan of the site for awhile and just became part of the creative writing team. My first blog post, "I Like Dandelions" is now up on the site. Check it out — and wander around the site for awhile. There are some fantastic photos and insightful (as well

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-55385190541116266082009-04-30T08:49:00.000-07:002009-04-30T09:14:11.535-07:00

Yesterday I joined with several local clergy to lobby our legislators on behalf of the 150,000 children in Missouri living without health care coverage. We came prepared with our "Testimony to our Legislators," signed by seven of us from the Jefferson City Clergy for Justice (and yes, I realize I'm not a member of the clergy. They let me play because I like justice and am in seminary.). It starts

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-66072529617763248852009-04-22T09:01:00.001-07:002009-04-22T09:01:53.087-07:00

(cross-posted from my training blog)The morning was perfect. Nervous chatting as folks adjusted bib numbers, the "serious" runners logging warm-up miles. "Are you pumped?" asked a random guy, approaching Tiffany and I. He rubbed our shoulders, and I was relieved to discover he was a pacer -- and we just so happened to be standing where his pace group intended to line up. Everyone was all-smiles.

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-14408947457780014932009-04-12T18:36:00.000-07:002009-04-12T18:39:23.845-07:00

I awoke with a great sense of relief. Easter is FINALLY here. It may seem a ridiculous thing to say, as Easter is a celebration of something that happened long ago. But in many ways, Easter is new for me every year. The Lenten season drains me. Self reflection is hard, painful work. Between recognizing myself for who I really am and experiencing the mental and emotional journeying with Christ

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-10338622187662703712009-04-05T13:42:00.001-07:002009-04-05T14:42:02.105-07:00

Holy week is upon us, and I'm exhausted. After a hard week and action-packed weekend, I feel like I'm hobbling toward Easter. I'd been reading "The Last Week" this past week, attempting to read each chapter on the day (a week ahead) that it corresponds with. As I focus on the original Holy week, I can't help but wonder about the exhaustion of Jesus during this week. I suppose it may be fitting

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-36025395077875273852009-03-27T12:31:00.000-07:002009-04-01T13:50:39.100-07:00

So, I admit it -- I was in a bad mood. I didn't want to be there, and I didn't want anyone to talk to me. And more than that, I wanted to judge them all for NOT talking to me. All I wanted to do was find the door and get out, but I was stuck in a far corner and would have to pass by far too many people in order to sneak out.I was on the third story of a church. A HUGE church. A church with

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-5747225257912417642009-03-24T06:02:00.000-07:002009-03-24T07:39:56.269-07:00

I'm a thief. I admit it. I like taking things from other traditions and implementing them into my own life. Most recently, I'm stealing from the Catholics. More specifically, I'm stealing the Saints -- especially Francis. I've been slowly making my way through Chesterton's "Saint Francis of Assisi." I've always had an affection for St. Francis, built upon references to him in song -- or the

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-83650574385485470382009-03-19T12:25:00.000-07:002009-03-19T13:11:30.379-07:00

Last Saturday, my running buddy Tiffany and I were excited to have a Spring-like day for our 8-miler training run. After about mile 3, my saliva turned into paste, and she commented that her mouth was turning to cotton. Our trail suddenly transformed into a virtual desert and we began having hallucinations about families standing beside creeks (no wait, we really do run by a creek...). Our new

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-35185852444317494232009-03-17T06:32:00.001-07:002009-03-17T06:32:24.640-07:00

(cross-post from my running blog)"I was born; I was born to sing for you..." I can always count on U2 to boost my energy level and lift my spirits. As I drove to the trail to meet Tiffany for our 5:30 a.m. run, Bono and the boys were busy making sure I was awake. U2's song "Magnificent" blasted from the speakers. And I thought about the idea that I was born for God's enjoyment. Several Christian

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-61672789850095835832009-03-13T06:22:00.001-07:002009-03-13T08:11:28.857-07:00

My Baptist roots haven't taught me much about the Saints. My pastor growing up preached about telling the congregation to turn to their neighbor and introduce themselves as "Saint (insert name here)." One man turned to his neighbor and suggested he didn't want to refer to himself as a saint. The neighbor urged him on, saying that we are all saints through Christ. "No, you don't understand," the

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-40715602898276414022009-03-10T13:56:00.001-07:002009-03-11T08:24:44.823-07:00

I've found myself revisiting a favorite poet this week. I've been fond of John Keats since a high school English teacher discussed "When I have fears" with us. That poem remains one of my favorites, and I find myself turning back to it every now and then. I always feared my lit professors would worry about my mental health since I always tended to write papers about death. I not only wrote about

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-8792610796144738592009-03-05T06:13:00.000-08:002009-03-05T08:23:18.216-08:00

Things that make me smile today:* hints of Spring * Bigelow's Vanilla Caramel tea * strawberries * songs based on "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" * a job I enjoy * watching kids and parents march across the parking lot of the dentist office next door * baby Dino * the baby from this year's king cake * missional conversations * sunflowers * accidental voice mail messages * found poetry * The Peace Book

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-13577646956503341132009-03-03T13:45:00.001-08:002009-03-03T14:43:16.777-08:00

We were laying on sleeping bags looking up at the stars. Miles away from the nearest electric light, the stars had no competition and dazzled us with clarity and brightness we never experienced at home. "Do you think women can be pastors?" someone asked. On a mountain in Panama, a diverse group of students from a southern Baptist college were pulled from the never-ending sky into a black hole of

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-42513383000781655662009-03-02T13:52:00.001-08:002009-03-02T13:57:34.886-08:00

I'm sure you will all agree that this is, by far, the most important blog I have written. Tomorrow, U2's new album, "No Line on the Horizon" will be released worldwide!!Let there be much rejoicing =0)

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-58984493911360942682009-02-25T10:33:00.000-08:002009-02-25T17:18:51.729-08:00

"From dust you were created, and to dust you will return."I can't think about Ash Wednesday without remembering Anne Lamott's story. She talks about scattering the ashes of her father and her friend Pammy. "They're impossible to let go of entirely," she writes. While it is an odd story, I find the idea of ashes clinging beautiful. As I think about today, I picture Anne tasting the ashes of her

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-91284659423970404902009-02-18T14:18:00.001-08:002009-02-18T15:06:02.688-08:00

I admit it. I have a love/hate relationship with the church. Several years ago, my friend Chad and I served as college interns at the church we both attended in Springfield. Both of us were injured church-goers, licking our wounds and hiding from loud denominational noises. We had each seen the mildewing underbelly of churches whose leaders spewed out Christianeze, but thought only of notches in

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-65234751386839844182009-02-17T07:51:00.001-08:002009-02-17T08:29:12.391-08:00

This morning a choral piece written by Pepper Choplin has been running through my head. The church choir has been working on it, and I fell in love the first time Rod played it for us. The words are fairly simple. The basic gist is, "Pray for the person on your left. Pray for the person on your right. They may seem strong, but we don't know all of the struggles and the burdens they hold. We pray,

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-12677588107071067892009-02-11T06:25:00.000-08:002009-02-11T07:26:05.468-08:00

For some reason complete strangers like to tell me their life stories. It always takes me by surprise. Within half an hour of meeting someone — often without exchanging names — I know more about a stranger than I do about people I have known for years. The conversations never begin with me, and I often don't say more than a few words — yet there it is, a heart-wrenching story that asks nothing

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-4049296152436174012009-02-04T11:59:00.000-08:002009-02-04T13:19:50.445-08:00

I've found myself thinking about the oddities of my faith a lot this week. It is incredibly messy, and I really like that about myself. Last week, a friend posted a blog asking how Christians can view God as "good" in light of the Hebrew Scriptures. Is a God who assists people in eradicating entire cities, who flooded the world really good? I had to admit that such passages give me pause. That I

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-20654507903521259252009-01-29T11:38:00.000-08:002009-01-29T12:13:05.896-08:00

I adore what I do for a living. As I watch others who are unhappy with their job or looking for the next great career opportunity, I find myself incredibly thankful to be right where I am. Growing up, I was the kid who didn't have the faintest clue what I wanted to do with my life. In the sixth grade, I declared what I wanted to be a singer. I am proud to say that there was a year or so I wanted

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-46520976452953620962009-01-22T15:16:00.000-08:002009-01-23T05:08:19.223-08:00

Had I known when I wrote it that my blog on Guatemala would end up in the BGCM E-Newsletter, I would have expressed my deep appreciation for allowing Word&Way -- for allowing ME -- to join the team in early January. I certainly have a much clearer understanding of the BGCM partnership and hope I'm able to transfer some of what I've learned to W&W readers. While this blog is not affiliated with

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-44527681156687813832009-01-21T14:26:00.000-08:002009-01-21T15:20:43.956-08:00

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-56967766208994729592009-01-20T09:02:00.000-08:002009-01-20T18:17:08.497-08:00

"Tis a gift to be simple, tis a gift to be free..."I'm not sure I thought about those words in terms of our country before. The gorgeous arrangement played by John Williams, Itzhak Perlman, Yo-Yo Ma, Gabriela Montero and Anthony McGill at the presidential inauguration has certainly changed that. I am watching Barack Obama take the oath of office while sitting in my office and feel ready to jump

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-50371905000448286162009-01-19T13:41:00.000-08:002009-01-19T14:37:26.517-08:00

On MLK day, I can't help but think about Glide Memorial Methodist Church in San Francisco. At the closing of each Sunday celebration service, everyone joins hands and sings "we shall overcome TODAY." A church that will not wait on society to catch up, but marches ahead to do the work of God's justice NOW. This afternoon I attended a packed out service at a local hospital. I like MLK services --

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-45702646818250491982009-01-14T08:18:00.000-08:002009-01-14T09:22:57.270-08:00

I tried to notice everything in Guatemala — the sights, the sounds, the smells (and perhaps other things that do not necessarily begin with "s."). And while I remember the strange curving incline leading to the women's restroom in the airport, the slapping sound and smell of tortillas being made, the dogs, cars and rooster that invaded my sleep, I know that my week in Guatemala is but a glimpse

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3252465252092223356.post-31883449032612686852009-01-13T11:45:00.000-08:002009-01-13T11:53:47.514-08:00

This blog has probably been a long time coming. I started a blogger page to post updates while training for my first marathon (and continues to be a hit or miss running blog), but my non-running thoughts tend to be scattered to the wind with no place to land. While I don't expect to have much of interest to say, the writer in me likes to say it anyway and the small organization part of my brain

jenniferharrisdaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00738658659532920383noreply@blogger.com0