“Now when [the priests, the captain of the temple, and the Sadducees] saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated and untrained men, they marveled. And they realized that they had been with Jesus” (Acts 4:13).

Can people tell that I’ve been with Jesus? Does the music to which I listen, do the movies I watch, and the articles I read online reflect Christ or spur me toward godliness? I strive for excellence in my education and professional life, but Robert Murray McCheyne, a Scottish preacher and theologian, noted “It is not great talent, it is not great ideas that God uses; It is great likeness to Jesus Christ.”

In a sweeping pendulum of reaction, I have wallowed in music, movies, and reading material that reflect hurt, anger, and a flippant disregard for an accurate and honest representation of God. God commanded His chosen people, the Israelites, to “Consecrate yourselves therefore, and be holy, for I am the Lord your God” (Leviticus 20:7). In the Bible’s original language, “consecrate” and “holy” come from the same primary root, which means “to be clean,” and represents “being set apart for the work of God”¹. My choices, attitude, and language during the past year and a half have reflected not a soul washed with the water of God’s Word², but a flashing neon sign of unregeneracy³.

With a few sparkly exceptions, my life has been a relentless string of disappointments. But consider the apostles: they left their families, their livelihoods, and their ways of life to dedicate every molecule of energy toward following Jesus and advancing His kingdom (see Mark 1:28-31). “Disappointment” would be an understatement for what they felt when everything for which they labored and hoped vanished like a mist in the sunrise. In their disillusionment, they did not withdraw into themselves, erect towering walls, and lash out in bitterness and cynicism. Instead, they rejoiced “that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for His name” (Acts 5:41).

You know that place between disillusionment and delight? I am so there.⁴ When I am hurt, I should run to God instead of to music, burrowing into Him and surrounding myself with His followers (Psalm 119:63) instead of fools (Proverbs 13:20). Rather than indulging in self-pity, I need to chose the “good part” (Luke 10:40-42).

I have made poor choices. I have neglected those whom God placed in my path for ministry. Don’t imitate me. Instead, let disillusionment challenge you to delight in God and in His tangible evidence of burning away the dross (garbage) and refining you into His likeness (Zechariah 13:9, Malachi 3:3). If it’s not obvious that I’ve been with Jesus, will you do me a favor? Question me.

Like the euphoric satisfaction after a hearty soccer game, my brain feels stretched but energized from the frenetic research of the past month and from juggling elements of my life.

I miss hanging out with my siblings and the conveniences of life in a big city, but I love the electric infusion of educational pioneering.

I'm moving! I'm so excited, I can't stop grinning.

My passion is to challenge others to see God's handprint in every area of life. I am thrilled with the opportunity to help develop college-level curriculum that instigates critical thinking while exploring how friendship with Christ influences the study and application of each subject.

This is my goal: "This will be written for the generation to come, that a people yet to be created may praise the Lord." (Psalm 102:18)

I am joining the staff of Legacy Collegiate Studies in Kansas on July 25. Be glad you can't hear me squealing.

 A voice from the wall greeted me as I entered the house after work. “Teresa! Can you change and help me?” Laughing, I followed the voice to a hole in the wall where Matthew was wedged.

After morphing into more comfortable clothing, I inquired at the wall: “All right; what do you want me to do?”

“Have you ever used a table saw?”

[Concern furrows my brow] “Um . . . no.”

“Well, I need you to cut some wood and hand it to me. I can’t keep crawling in and out of this hole.”

“Okay, but will I cut off my fingers? Because, you know, I’m a musician; I’m kind of attached to my fingers.”

Since I love the smell of freshly cut wood, I took a deep breath and . . . documentation is provided below. It was so much fun to help Matthew! I think I’ll be a builder when I grow up—er, maybe on my next job.

After dinner, Mom announced, “Teresa and Josh are cleaning up the kitchen tonight.” “I’m washing,” Josh quickly asserted.

“Wait a minute!” I protested. “I like washing! I do NOT like drying.”

“Well, I’m washing.”

“I am the oldest; therefore, I think I should get to choose,” I grinned deviously.

“Flip a coin!” Mom yelled.

“I’m heads!” I announced, since heads are higher than tails and my age is higher than Josh’s.

Laughing, Josh happily agreed to be tails. He flipped the coin. “Tails!” he announced in triumph.

“You have to drop it on the floor!” I protested. He did. Still tails. “You rigged it!” I protested. “Drop it again!” He did. Still tails.

“Slap the coin on your arm!” Matthew commanded from the table. Josh did. Still tails.

“Ahhhh!” I wailed. “The gods are not happy with me today!”

By now, Josh was giddy with glee. “Teresa!” he chided me “you always choose tails! The tails side is heavier or something, so the coin almost always lands on the tails side!”

Sputtering, I whirled about for an answer. How did I manage to live for a quarter of a century without ever stumbling across this information? Trying to feign indignation, I started vigorously sweeping. “My new Facebook status,” Josh recited aloud: “’Josh is laughing at his sister for not knowing that tails always win.’”