Golda Meir's House: My Daily Inspiration

In 1911, Herman Kortz and his wife Fanny, built a small, brick duplex in the style of the Denver Double at 1606-1608 Julian Street to serve as a rental property. The Kortz family had established themselves in Denver business with their jewelry stores, of which Elvis Presley was a loyal customer.  Almost immediately upon the house's completion, Sam and Shayna Korngold, a young couple with their daughter, Judith, moved in as tenants.

The west Colfax neighborhood of turn-of-the century Denver had become somewhat of a gathering place for Jews of Russian decent, such as the Korngolds.  Most of them had traveled out West for treatment at Denver's famous Jewish Hospital for Consumptives (Jewish Consumptive Relief Society and National Jewish Hospital), and were either ill or recently recovered from tuberculosis.  This was also true for the Korgolds, as Shayna suffered from consumption.  In 1913, Shayna's younger sister, Golda (known as Goldie to her family) unexpectedly came to live with the Korngolds in their Denver home.   Fifteen-year-old Golda had been living with her parents in Milwaukee, studying to become a teacher.   Her parents however, wished Golda to discontinue her studies and marry the young man they had chosen for her.  Knowing that Milwaukee law forbade married women from teaching in public schools, Golda ran away to Colorado to continue her studies.

While in Denver, Golda worked part time as a presser for her brother-in-law at Korngold's Cleaning and Pressing Works, near the Brown Palace Hotel and attended North High School.  In the evenings, the Korngold's home served as a regular meeting place for Jewish intellectuals in the community.   Philosophical discussions and heated debates, covering a broad range of topics, would often carry on into the early morning hours.  It was during these nights of intellectual fervor that Golda developed many of the values and ideas that would later serve her during her political career, including Zionism and women's suffrage.   In her 1975 autobiography My Life, she stated, "to the extent that my own future convictions were shaped and given form ... those talk-filled nights in Denver played a considerable role." and "it was in Denver that my real education began."

Not only did Denver nourish Golda's future political life, but her personal one as well.  She met an artistically inclined, music-loving sign painter named Morris Meyerson, whom she married four years later.  After two years in Denver, Golda reconciled with her parents and moved back to Milwaukee to complete her high school education.   Shortly there after, she, Morris, and her beloved sister Shayna emigrated to what was then know as Palestine, where they changed their name from Meyerson to its original Hebrew version: Meir.  The year was 1921.
With Shayna's emigration to Israel, the Korngolds vacated the Julian Street house, and the Kortz's found new tenants. Various families and individuals inhabited the duplex over the the next fifty years, but none so influential nor inspiring as Golda Meir.

Shortly after Golda's death in 1978, the duplex was identified as her home and reached its current home on the Denver Auraria campus in 1988.  The city of Denver deemed the house city landmark in 1995.  The house remains the sole preserved American residence of Golda Meir.

Every time I walk past this quaint brick home on campus, I am inspired.  I'm inspired at how my ramblings and debates of today could change the world tomorrow.  I'm inspired by how God can use women who are passionate.  I'm inspired by how a woman will move across the world to act on what she believes.  I'm inspired by how much just one woman can inspire me.

This house feels like a gift from the Father just for me.  It serves as just one more confirmation that I'm supposed to be where I am, studying what I am, because someday, He just might use me to inspire others.

I'm the Christian I was Before

I'm not the Christian I used to be.  I'm the Christian I was before.

I've been unraveling that mystery over the last few days, weeks, and months. 

Things are beginning to come into focus.

When I was little, I was enthralled with Jesus.  The songs we sang in Sunday School all revolved around Him.  He was "in my heart" and on my VBS t-shirt.  He was everything.  I drew pictures of Him, asked questions about Him, and sang "Happy Birthday Jesus" every Christmas.  I was that kid always talking to and about Jesus. 

But in high school, I was introduced to the wonderful world of theology.  I fell in love with the study of God -- this divine mystery that captivated me.  All of a sudden, all my childhood Bible stories and flannel graphs had a very intellectual and mature context.  The academic in me became slightly obsessed and I devoted myself to study.  But, somewhere between Calvin and Grudem, I lost sight of Jesus.  He began to seem trite.  Rather than singing simple songs to Him -- I recited doctrine.  Instead of using "immature" language to describe salvation such as Jesus "in my heart," I claimed that I had accepted His atonement for sin.  I still loved Jesus, but it was different.  I scoffed at those who mused about the fluffy, sugary, teddy bear Jesus.  What baby Christians.  Didn't they know that God was much more than cotton candy?  He's omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent (and there's probably another omni in there somewhere).  All I could see was arguments, theologies, and 5 point doctrines.  I felt as though I had found my niche.  I was going to be the smart theology girl.  It takes my breath away to think of it now, but Jesus faded into the background for awhile -- replaced with scholars and systematic theology.  Jesus became cute and unimportant.  The cross became elementary. 

Then something happened a few years ago.  Jesus cut through my logic and showed me love.  All of a sudden I was a child once more.  Jesus captured my affections in a way so real and so tangible that my heart gushed for Him.  In this last year at home, He has led me further and further down the path of love.  These days I sound like a certified hippie, because I am consumed with Jesus' love.  It's what the world needs now -- His love, sweet love.  When life is the question, Jesus' love is the answer.  I still enjoy theology and ridiculously thick books full of ideas about the Divine, but now my motivation is purely love.  Oh that I might know all that my heart and mind can contain about this magnificent One.  I've come full circle, back to the little girl who is enthralled with Jesus. 

Thank You Jesus that I'm not the Christian I used to be.  Thank you for making me the Christian I was before.

There's no Place Like Away from Home

When asked what emotions the word home evokes, most people will respond with warm, cozy, feelings, and sentiments of security. But, in my opinion, home is far overrated. Our comfortable habitats can only allow us to experience so much. That is why, for me, there is no place like away from home. Everyday, the world waits for me – a standing invitation to break out of my confines and discover new cultures, foods, languages, and perhaps more than anything else, I truly discover myself. 

Over the past several years, the nations have been my classroom. I better understand the Palestinian-Israeli conflict because I spent time in Israel and the West Bank conversing with the people. I cherish literature at a deeper level after my time in Switzerland, meandering through the oldest monastic library in the world. I devour history with greater appreciation after clambering upon Egypt's pyramids and staring into the face of the Sphinx. Intentionally positioning myself mentally and geographically for learning has lead to some of the most educational and influential experiences of my life. But none of these would have been possible had I stayed home, warm and cozy.

When I remove myself from the things in my own culture which define me, I not only learn about this wondrous world I reside in, I propel myself down the path of self-discovery. No more friends, family, or co-workers mandating who I am. No more job, school, or native culture to tell me what to do or how to dress. When I am completely outside of my daily restrictions, I am allowed to be the truest version of myself. And it is in that state of complete freedom that I feel most alive.

So, although home may be our definition of comfort and security, home is limited, and security places boundaries around our potential experiences. The world, however, is limitless – full of cultural and personal treasures waiting to be discovered. The experiences travel affords should never lead to a disdain for home, just for the contentment that it can all too easily incite. For when I am discontented with the normalcy of home, it is then that I hear the nations beckon clearest and I know that there is no place like away from home.

Help! I was Homeschooled!

Shanny and I on my 22nd birthday
 eating amazing baklava:)

Shannon, or Shanny as she is better know to those near and dear in her life, is one of my favorite people in the world.  2010 marked ten years of our covenant friendship and I am so blessed to know her.  We have seen each other through times of joy and pain, supported each other in missions, and even went through a rebellious time together (we liked boys when we were 13.  Yikes!). 

One of my favorite things to do with Shanny is to talk and laugh about the book we will write together one day, entitled, Help! I was Homeschooled!  We get together over chai and share our hearts to see freedom brought to young people in our generation who may have been misguided, like we were.  Now, in our twenties, we have been on a similar journey of learning about the reality of blood bought grace in our lives and the freedom that is our inheritance in the Kingdom of God.  So now, whenever we share a powerful revelation that Abba has given us, we half jokingly/half seriously say "That's going in our book!"  Who knows, maybe you'll see it on the shelf someday.  

These days Shanny is half way across the world serving our King with an ardent love that exudes from her pure heart.  I miss her bunches, but couldn't be happier to see my sister/friend walking in the ways of our God -- pouring her life out for the broken.  

A few weeks ago, my family had Shannon's family (all 9 of them, minus my sweet friend of course) over to our home.  They all have such a special place in my heart and I soaked up the hours we spent discussing the work of God in our lives and let the tears stream down my cheeks as we worshipped and proclaimed God's goodness together.  At one point in the evening I began sharing about my struggle with feeling tainted.  

You see, courtship is like one of the pillars of the homeschool movement, and as a teenager, one way to look pretty spiritual is to be on the courtship train.  I was that girl in middle and high school that went to the purity conferences, read the courtship books, and made the husband lists (Did anyone else do this?  That's a whole other post all together!).  Now those books can be really great if you read one or two, but if you read twelve like me and some of my friends did, it gets really unhealthy really fast.  First, it gives you a completely skewed perspective.  In retrospect, I wish that I had read one of those books, and ten others on prayer, consecration, missions, and theology.  Romantic relationships did not need to take up so much space in my thoughts or my bookshelf.  

Second, I fell in love with godly rules more than relationship with God.  Those of you who know me well probably smile when I say that I love black and white -- right and wrong.  There is something in my God created nature that loves moral absolutes and unquestionable truth.  But at sixteen, that part of me saw many of the principles in those books as rules that lead to a perfect relationship, marriage, and life.  The devastating flip side of that coin is that if you make even one mistake or break one rule, your hopes of a wonderful marriage shatter forever.  I joke that I believed things like, "Well, I had a crush on a boy so now I'll never have a good marriage."  But in reality, I believed that with all my heart.  I believed that I was tainted.  I knew that God would forgive and redeem me where I had been emotionally promiscuous, but I completely believed that I was no longer pure and lovely. My once white dress had its hem drug through the mud.  


At this point, Caleb, Shannon's little brother (who isn't so little anymore at 21) spoke up.  Caleb is the perfect example of still waters run deep.  He doesn't speak up often, but when he purposes to make his voice heard, it is often profound.  And this time was no exception.  He began to share that you may believe that you've ruined a part of yourself by "messing up," but in reality, we are all already completely ruined and Jesus loves that.  We are born in a sinful state and Jesus lovingly chooses to redeem us.  Just let that sink in for a second.  We are born in sin and live a life of sanctification from the moment of salvation onward.  We are not born with these clean slates that we mar and mark up over the course of life.  Jesus is taking me on a love adventure and as I love Him more, I am being transformed into the spectacular Bride.  When Caleb spoke those words, the Holy Spirit gave me a complete paradigm shift.  The lies of the enemy that I had ruined it all were no longer valid.  I realized that I was born ruined and have been gloriously redeemed.

It looks like our book is going to have to have a guest contributor:)  Hint, hint, Caleb.  

P.S. I absolutely LOVED being homeschooled, wholly support the practice, and will probably educate my children at home someday.  This is not an attack on homeschooling, simply a desire to see young people set free from lies that can be found in the broad "homeschooling movement."

Do not Despise the Season of Preparation

A few months back I bought this little black Jetta. The previous owners are family friends of ours and the car had been taken good care of. Everything about getting that car was a miracle, even how I got the funds. I truly believed that God had prepared this little car just for me.

And then things started breaking. It was just small things at first, a light, the heater knob, the door lock. But then it was big things, like overheating and leaking oil. I feel like my mechanic is on speed dial these days, and even though he has wonderful prices, my bank account continues to diminish.

I hit the breaking point two weeks ago when I was on my way to school. I had just put some more oil in my car and after just ten short miles, the oil had completely drained, leaving my dipstick bone dry. You don't have to know much about cars to know that I had BIG problems. I called my professor and explained to him in a voice cracking with emotion that I wasn't going to be in class, and then I just sat on the side of the road and cried while I waited for the tow truck. I had been praying over that little car so much and I couldn't understand why this was happening. It may not sound like a big deal to some people, but it's just me and my mom at home and car stuff can get pretty overwhelming pretty fast. But as I was sitting there, crying and asking God why this was all happening, He gently reminded me of the season, two seasons actually. The first was that it was Channukah. That whole holiday ironically revolves around the miracle of the oil, and did I ever need an oil miracle of my own. Channukah is also about God's faithfulness and provision in seemingly impossible circumstances - again very relevant to my current side of the road situation. But the other season that Abba pointed out to me was the broader season He has me in during these years back in America. I learned so much during my wonderful time overseas, but He brought me back to learn some things that only home could teach me. I know so assuredly that my time here is a season of preparation - emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually - so that when I go back overseas, I will be more fully equipped. At that moment, crying alone in my car, I realized that this was an opportunity. I could become more frustrated, and cry more tears, and become more overwhelmed with my circumstances, or I could trust, pray, and rest in the fact that the God of the universe is crazy about me and is going to watch over me. I had to choose not to despise the season of preparation with its strategic challenges, but rather to embrace them as they force me into the arms of my Savior.

I believe that Jesus did in fact tell me to buy that car, but now I also see that He is going to use every challenge to increase my trust in Him.

What season does He have you in?

Son of Hamas

Can you imagine being 17 years old and going to prison where you are ruthlessly tortured? Or what if there was a high possibility everyday that you would be murdered? Can you imagine your father being a terrorist?! That is the life of Mosab Hassan Yousef, the son of one of the seven founding members of the Hamas terrorist organization. Born in 1978, Mosab, the oldest of nine children, grew up in the West Bank. Surrounded with terrorism since his childhood, Mosab went to prison for attempted violence against Israel, but later ended up working for Israel as an undercover spy! On top of it all, Mosab has now become a follower of the teachings of Jesus. His is an amazing story of betrayal, political intrigue, and redemption. Having personally spent time in Israel and the West Bank, I have tasted their conflict and admire this man for his bravery and sense of justice. He has chosen to document his story in this book, “Son of Hamas,” which was published this year, in order to share with the world the truth about Hamas, Islam, and what he believes is the only answer for peace in the Middle East. I read this book in a couple days and it has given me a new sense of justice and understanding of the Middle East conflict. It is an amazing story of what is possible when we love our enemies. I highly recommend it!

sonofhamas.com

A Letter to Christian Radio

Dear Christian Radio,

Overall, I appreciate you. We have a fairly good relationship. Yes, I used to mock you in my teenage years, when all I could do was criticize the music you play with it's weak writing and repetitive choruses; and although I still generally hold those opinions, I've calmed down a bit and give you a listen. I enjoy the worship songs and am grateful for how they focus my heart on Christ while driving my car. I've had some of the sweetest worship experiences with the Lord listening to the music you play, that is until the song ends. At this point, the DJ feels the need to engage in some "clever banter" before playing the next song. That is really where my grievance begins. I'm saddened to hear DJs complain about traffic and ooze over Hollywood gossip. I hear these things and double check the station. Nope, there's no mistake - it's still Christian radio. Last time I checked, we served a God who came and died for us, allowing us to speak boldly to this world about grace, life, love, and justice. Wouldn't it be amazing if when I flipped on the Christian radio I heard the DJs sharing stories of miracles rather than discussing their favorite Taco Bell combo (true story)? What benefit is there in complaining about heavy traffic when we could be encouraging one another to rise above our circumstances with the attitude of Christ Jesus? Why do we feel the need to relish in Hollywood gossip, when the works of God are unquestionably more exciting, wondrous, and awe-inspiring? Just a thought.

Sincerely,

Chelsea