Mackenzie Standing

I would like to be able to sit here and say that I have impeccable film taste, but I really don't. Sure, I like plenty of movies with beautiful cinematography and interesting plot lines (like my all-time favorite film , which is highly under-appreciated), but if we're honest, I'm just as likely to enjoy something asinine or predictable. I like to blame it on the fact that I have two younger brothers. Regardless, I really enjoy the movie Zombieland -- enough that I've been known to crash "Guys' Night" just so I could watch it (in my defense, literally every female I knew in Bozeman was out of town that weekend). In it, the main character Columbus has a list of rules he's developed to survive the zombie apocalypse. They're widely applicable statements that make decent advice for life in general, including rule #1: cardio; rule #4: seatbelts; and rule #22: When in doubt, know your way out. My favorite rule, though, is #32: Enjoy the little thing...

The summer after my sophomore year of college, I went on a quest for joy. The whole year had been rough, but spring semester in particular. I felt under appreciated, unloved, and unnoticed. I was struggling with the weight of my sin and shame and feeling unworthy. It was the loneliest, hardest period I've gone through in my short life. If you've ever seen me cringe while discussing my college experience, know that most of my reaction is tied up in residual pain from that year. And so, after wallowing for quite some time (oh, you should see the blog posts from that era... except really, please don't look for them), I decided that enough was enough and I was going to look for joy. I didn't want the "happiness" version that seems to invade every corner of our society, though; I wanted true, Biblical joy. I just wasn't quite sure what that was. I wish I could say that I read a plethora of books, watched educational videos, and listed to many a sermon pod...

A little more than three months ago, I slapped a meticulously packed (48 pounds, to be exact) suitcase down at the United Airlines ticket counter, boarded my plane, and took off with more than a little apprehension to work at Moose River Outpost in Jackman, ME. I made a friend during my O'Hare layover.  I had accepted the job as office manager a few months before, excited about the idea of experiencing the East Coast and growing in a new place. As the time to leave grew closer, however, the knot in the middle of my stomach grew larger. I have never identified as an "outdoorsy" person -- my favorite thing to do in Montana is cuddle in with a warm blanket, a hot drink, and a movie or book -- so the idea of spending two months at a place that possesses a desire to "Seek Christ, build community, and embrace adventure" filled me with trepidation. Seek Christ? That's my favorite. Build community? I'm a senior in the dorms for just that reason. Embrace a...

My brother Travis played Joseph in the Christmas pageant this year. He was not excited about it. One of my favorite traditions of the Christmas season is that on Christmas Eve Eve, December 23rd -- ironically enough, Travis's birthday -- our church family gets together to begin the Christmas season with worship. Traditionally, this means we act out the Christmas story, with the roles getting assigned on the spot. People walk through the doors, having no idea that in a matter of moments they might just be led off to costuming to become an angel or shepherd or sheep. Even if they choose not to play a role, there still is opportunity galore for audience participation. There's no rehearsal, no guarantees that technology will work or the actors will get all their lines out, but there's a whole lot of laughter and an atmosphere that I think would have a strong correlation with the first Christmas -- a little chaotic and the sense that you really don't know what will happen ...

What can I give him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; yet what can I give him: give my heart. --Christina Rossetti, "In the Bleak Midwinter" I love giving gifts. One of my favorite aspects of the Christmas season is the way it creates space to honor people and show them our appreciation. As much as I think that Christmas shouldn't be focused on the presents -- because it shouldn't -- and that there's great benefit that comes with being content with what you have -- because there is -- there's a certain beauty in being able to give my friend a present just for being  her,  and no one thinks it's strange. I appreciate that. The problem, though, is that I am  not  a fantastic giver of gifts. Attempting to find the perfect present that both means something to the other person and has sentimental value in our relationship (always a plus) stresses me out to no end. I still have no idea ...

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called  Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. -Isaiah 9:6 The first Bible verse I ever memorized was Matthew 6:34. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. My little twelve-year-old heart, still reeling from the fact that Jesus loved me  and desperately trying, in her own perfectionist way, to incorporate that love into her life, clung to this verse. Do not worry, the verse says. So simple. Except... When it's not. I have struggled with anxiety for years. Panic attacks. Hyperventilation. Sobbing myself to sleep over things that are really not important. Stressing for days over events that were in the past, or events that never happened. Over time, it's become much more manageable. As I've grown more into who God made me to be and placed my identit...

There's a deep-set love in my heart for traditions. Whether it's hunting for a live Christmas tree with my family every year, stopping at the same gas stations on road trips, recreating pictures or making sure every trip home is marked by a Wendy's Frosty, my pattern-hungry brain can make any similar event or date important. I love traditions. Many of them are so silly that I refuse to mention them to other people (what, you don't feel a compulsive need to go to dinner at 6pm every Wednesday?), but trust me, I notice them. Perhaps that's the reason why I so appreciate the church calendar-- Advent and Lent in particular. I can root myself deep in these traditions that are far older than me and will last far longer than I will. They remind me that these times in the year have far more significance than my own personal calendar-- that December means more than last minute study sessions, final examinations, and gingerbread house building, as good as those tradit...