From rshadian@hawaii.eduWed Nov 22 14:44:23 1995 Date: Wed, 22 Nov 1995 13:39:07 -1000 From: Ritchard Shadian To: Chi Alpha Subject: The Brotherly, volume FA95, issue 7 *** * * *** * *** ** * * * *** ******* ****** ****** ******* ** ** ******* ****** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ****** ******* ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ******* ***** ** ** ** ****** ******* ***** ** ** ** ******* ****** ** ** ** ****** ******* ****** ** *** ** ** ** ** ****** ** ** ** ** ** ** ****** *** ******* ** ** ****** ** ** ** ******* ** ** ****** *** THE OFFICIAL NEWSLETTER OF THE UNIVERSITY OF HAWAII AT MANOA CHI ALPHA CHAPTER ______________________________________________________________________________ NOVEMBER 22, 1995 VOLUME FA95 ISSUE NO. 7 ______________________________________________________________________________ Hi again. Welcome to another sparse edition of the newsletter. I don't like to harp on things, but in this case I think I should. Please send articles. I want this newsletter to be something special and I can't do it without your help. ----------------- | ANNOUNCEMENTS | ----------------- YES, VIRGINIA, THERE IS A MEETING --------------------------------- To answer the most frequently asked question: there WILL be a meeting this Friday at the same time in the same place even though it is an instructional holiday. SALT MONEY DUE IMMEDIATELY!!!! ------------------------------ For those who plan on going to SALT, this Friday is absolutely the LAST day to turn in your money to Craig. You can either pay the non-refundable $30 deposit or the full $125 conference fee. END-OF-THE-SEMESTER BANQUET --------------------------- This Friday's meeting is also important because it is the one in which we are going to decide where to have our end-of-the-semester banquet which will be held on Friday, December 8. Rod has picked out a few possible locations and we are going to vote on Friday. NO MORE HOMEWORK, NO MORE BOOKS, BUT MORE CHI ALPHA --------------------------------------------------- Chi Alpha events will not be totally disabled over the Christmas break. There is, at least, a meeting planned for Friday, December 15. It will primarily be a worship and fellowship night, and it will most likely be in Kuykendall 210 at 7pm like always. If you're staying on the island during the break (as most of you are), then come by and join the fellowship. PLANNING FOR '96 ---------------- Although the planning meetings are done for this semester, next semester is a whole other ballgame. Our first Spring planning meeting will be on Monday, January 8, 1996, 7:00 pm at Chi Alpha corner (between Wainani I and F). Come by and have a say in what goes on in the new year. CONTINENTAL SINGERS AT YFC -------------------------- Next Wednesday, November 29, Youth for Christ University Fellowship is hosting a Christian music group, the Continental singers, at their evening meeting. It is designed for evangelism. If you have a non-believing friend that likes good music, bring her/him by at 7:00 pm to Bilger 151. BROTHERLY IN HIBERNATION ------------------------ I will probably send out one more edition of the Brotherly before this semester is out. However, afterwards there will be no other Brotherly issues until Spring starts, UNLESS someone wishes to take over for a short time. Since I'll be home on Maui, I won't have the faintest idea about what will be happening on this island. So, If you so desire to continue the Brotherly for a short time over the winter recess, come talk to me either in person or via email: rshadian@hawaii.edu. ______________________________________________________________________________ ------------ | FEATURES | ------------ IF THE BIBLE WERE WRITTEN TODAY... by Joel Elies Psalm 32. by David. some cool little song. 1 It's so cool when your rebellion is forgiven, when your screw-ups are ignored. 2 It's cool when God sees your sins but doesn't hold them against you, when you're not trying to fool anyone. 3 When I kept quiet, I felt totally wasted since I was crying all day long. 4 Day and night, I could feel your heavy hand on me. I didn't have any energy left (you know, like when it's real hot in the middle of summer). 5 But finally, I stopped pretending everything was OK. I stopped hiding my ugliness from you. I just said to myself, "OK, OK, I'll admit my sin to God." --AND YOU FORGAVE ME! You took away the weight of the penalty of my sin! 6 Everybody who believes in God should be doing this! Talk to this God who is so accessible to us! I know for sure that no matter how high the tide of life rises, It won't reach God. 7 You're my inner sanctuary. I go to you and I get security and protection. You surround me with your voice singing out that you will deliver me: 8 "I will teach you and show you which way to go. I will counsel you and keep watch over you. 9 So don't be stubborn and rebellious like some mule, They just don't catch on. They need a painful jerk on the reigns before they obey. 10 Life really sucks for non-Christians. But the Lord's unshakable love just covers anyone who trusts in him. 11 Get pumped about God and be happy, if you're living right! Sing out, all you guys who are standing tall! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ KEEPIN' WITH THE TIMES by Ritchard Shadian The Death of the Outreach Every Tuesday and Thursday during my lunch break from work, and sometimes on Wednesdays, I take in a pizza on the Campus Center steps. Now, as you all know, there's almost always something going on in the Campus Center courtyard during lunch. I've seen everything from nuclear testing debates to budget forums to high-profile bands which have brought out anywhere from 20 to 5000 students. Among these I've seen, on several occasions, Christian outreaches. Yet there is something I've noticed about these outreaches. Although it is filled with emotional testimony and spirit-lifting enthusiasm, the turnout, in general, is only slightly more than a normal day when no special event is happening. And of those that do show up, few of the non-Christians (you can usually tell who the Christians are in the crowd; they're the ones shouting "Amen!" and "Go, brother!" every ten seconds) are paying any attention. Occasionally the rationale behind low attendance is "Well, who cares about numbers; if one person comes to the Lord through the outreach, it makes it all worthwhile." That is true to an extent, but then I question why there should be an outreach at all. Can't you reach the same amount of people by sharing the gospel with your friends and classmates? No doubt about it, outreaches are designed to reach a larger section of the UNSAVED community than would normally be reached in everyday conversation. Yet it seems that campus outreaches are dominated by Christians and are limited in the number of non-Christians. What is the reason that we find more students coming out to hear the words of Haunani Kay Trask than those of Jesus? What are the ingredients of a successful outreach? Do we need more advertisement? More controversy? More popular music? More dynamic speakers? More volume? What is lacking? These are questions worth considering and their value is debatable. But what is most important is that the gospel is preached, not only to the large group but to the individual. For one, how can an outreach occur without believers going through the audience to share Christ one-on-one. While altar calls are great, the private discussions and decisions made among each person in the crowd after being exposed to the larger message are not only more effective, they're much more common, I think. To bring people to a point where they can accept the eternal life offered by our Lord Jesus Christ, we must first convince them that it is an issue that demands a dialogue, just like French nuclear testing, the UH budget crisis, homosexual marriages, Hawaiian sovreignty, legalization of narcotics, and any other topic that has passed through the Campus Center courtyard. I was encouraged by the turnout at the Battle of the Christian Bands today; perhaps that is a start towards more effective outreaches. We must present Jesus on an equal level with our peers using whatever media possible. We must make the gospel relevant and worthwhile enough for students to have a reason to sit down on the steps and take in the most necessary part of their spiritual lives as they take in their Pepsi. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ And crossing our email paths (something which gave even me the chills).... THE ROOM In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "People I Have Liked". I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed". The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read", "Lies I Have Told", "Comfort I Have Given", "Jokes I Have Laughed At". Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled at My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents". I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts", I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With". The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written. ______________________________________________________________________________ Well, that does it for this week. In Christ, Ritchard (rshadian@Hawaii.Edu) ============================================================================== Mailing list address: chi_alpha@Hawaii.Edu World Wide Web page: http://www2.hawaii.edu/~rshadian/chialpha/homepage.html