When she was younger, Jessica Jeter just wanted her own room.
Now, the 20-year-old junior economics and political science double major is helping others get their own homes as fundraising and Youth United coordinator for York County’s Habitat for Humanity.
An aspiring attorney, Jeter’s well-kept and business-minded demeanor displays her as a woman fit for the courtroom.
Yet, Jeter has seen her share of struggle.
Early into middle school, Jeter and her family left their home of Baltimore, Md. and moved to Greenville, S.C.
Financial struggles followed them south.
“As a kid, I never had a room of my own,” Jeter said.
In May 2008, Jeter walked across the stage of Wade Hampton High School as a high school graduate. A new home purchased by her parents, the Rev. Dr. DeWayne and Kimberly Jeter, was part of her graduation gift.
“I always told my parents if there’s one thing that I wanted, I just wanted my own room one day,” Jeter said. “I just wanted to be able to come home to my own room, to my own space.”
Once graduating high school, Jeter got what she asked for.
Her next request was attendance at Spelman College in Atlanta, Ga.
She got in. On the same token, tuition was $33,000.
Having just purchased a new home, her parents couldn’t afford to send their daughter to her dream school.
Jeter went to Greenville Technical College her freshman year. Her parents hadn’t forgotten their daughter’s dreams of attending a four-year university.
Winthrop soon rose on the horizon.
Things didn’t become easier once Jeter , a sophomore at the time, was accepted to Winthrop. The day before her orientation, her dad, pastor of Pilgrim Rest Baptist Church, lost his job. Around that same time, Jeter learned that the university wasn’t offering her any financial aid.
“The only thing that was offered to me was student loans,” she said.
Even with the loans, Jeter still had to pay $1,448 monthly to attend school.
“I was like ‘wow, we only lived in our new house for like a year, my dad just lost his job the day before my orientation and they’re asking that I pay this big ole lump sum,” Jeter said. “I didn’t know how I was going to do it.”
At the end of the day, it came down to Jeter’s parents making a choice between their mortgage or her tuition at Winthrop.
“I was like I can’t ask my parents to do that,” Jeter said.
She was ready to go to Greenville Tech another year but Jeter’s father, the Rev. Dr. DeWayne Jeter, was adamant that his daughter would attend Winthrop.
His determination paid off. Jeter and her parents cut out on-campus living fees from her tuition and decided that she would need to live off-campus. In addition, the mortgage was paid.
After hunting for apartments throughout Rock Hill and encountering issues with her first set of roommates, Jeter met her current three roommates and they moved into an apartment together.
Living at an apartment with a month-to-month lease, their landlord increased their rent during the scorching summer months.
With her parents paying her rent and her dad still unemployed, Jeter could not afford to stay in the apartment. Neither could her roommates.
Eventually, all four women moved to a Walk2Campus house.
Walk2Campus is an off-campus housing group which has formed a partnership with Winthrop to provide off-campus alternative housing for Winthrop students in Rock Hill.
Recently, Jeter’s mom’s medical coding company was bought out and her salary cut. Even with her father unemployed and her mom’s salary cut, Jeter said her family is making it.
“We pay our mortgage on time, the rent gets paid on time, we still have all of our cars,” Jeter said. “It just surprises me, it really does.”
Enter Habitat
It wasn’t strictly a love for volunteering that led Jeter to begin working with Habitat for Humanity—it was the people she already knew in high school.
“The high school I went to, a majority of the students were raised in single-home families,” Jeter said. “So there were one or two individuals I already knew of who had their home built [by Habitat].”
It was through this firsthand experience that Jeter saw the impact Habitat for Humanity made in the lives of children and teenagers. It was something she wanted to be a part of.
After her high school sponsored Greenville’s Habitat for Humanity for spirit week, Jeter began attending meetings. Soon, she was volunteering any Saturday she didn’t have a track or cheerleading competition.
While at Greenville Tech, Jeter wasn’t able to volunteer as much as she used to. Once coming to Winthrop and living off-campus, she faced many adjustments.
“I never lived on my own before,” Jeter said. “It was very difficult,”
Jeter, who described herself as a “daddy’s girl,” went home every weekend her first year at Winthrop to ease her homesickness.
Though she said she’s starting to find her balance, Jeter admitted she’s still undergoing the growing-up process.
“The more you grow, the more you mature, the more you learn, you find out your priorities—what’s more important to you,” Jeter said.
In the midst of her transition to Winthrop and York’s Habitat for Humanity, Jeter has found three roommates who are almost like her sisters.
“Opposites do attract,” Jeter said. “One is an art major; she’s like one of the students who walks around with the paint on the pants, and she’s very artsy and carefree.”
Jeter’s second roommate works with plaster and clay all day. The other one is an international business major.
Still, it’s the differences that meld them together.
“I’m the only African American roommate they have,” Jeter said. “All of us are so different that it just kind of mixes well.”
It’s a family thing
Helping others seems to run in the family.
Jeter’s mom, Kimberly Jeter, is a professional medical coder who pursued a law degree in college.
Jeter’s grandfather also pursued law.
Both went in opposite directions.
Jeter’s grandfather is now a pastor in Washington D.C.
After seeing what happened behind the scenes of a law firms, Kimberly deferred and look to the medical profession. To her surprise, she liked coding. Even though she and her father left the law track, Kimberly is hoping her daughter stays focused.
“I see a very focused Jessica,” Jeter’s mom said. “She has a plan and she’s executing it.”
Old Habitats die-hard
This past summer, Jeter returned to Habitat for Humanity; this time, working with York County’s affiliate chapter.
As fundraising coordinator, she leads a committee of volunteers who plan events and coordinate other activities to raise money for the organization.
It’s a labor of love.
One moment that touched Jeter was witnessing a mother receive a new home for her and her children to replace the old one, which was literally split in two.
“Even though my family may not have been as bad off as other families, I know what it’s like as a kid to want for something,” Jeter said.
Jeter said she knows parents, more than anyone, feel wonderful when they are able to give their kids a home.
“That’s what every parent wants to do—make their child happy,” Jeter said.
Katie Lockhart, a Winthrop University senior international business major, has been roommates with Jeter for 11 months. In that time, she has experienced Jeter’s tenacity for helping others.
“If she sees a person or a family who is in need and she can’t financially help, she really takes it to heart,” Lockhart said.
During Jeter’s earlier days with the York affiliate of Habitat for Humanity, Lockhart said some of Jeter’s female committee members thought Jeter was stuck-up.
In response, Jeter cooked a big dinner and invited them to the house for a girl’s night out, Lockhart said.
Lockhart and Jeter, who grew up five minutes away from each other but did not meet until they were both in Rock Hill, have developed a closer friendship since their initial decision to move in together.
“She’s a great roommate,” Lockhart said.
Since working with York, Jeter has seen many families shy to apply for a Habitat home.
She said some people are afraid they won’t qualify for a home because of credit reasons or they just have shame because of their situations.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of your life or what you’ve been through,” Jeter advised. “It makes you who you are as an individual.”
Jeter said her dad preached it best a couple of Sundays ago.
“He said, ‘you never know what issues God may want you to unmask could, for Him fixing your issues in public, that’s proving to other people what God can do for you.’”
In the past, Habitat required its applicants to have a certain credit score to qualify for homes. Now, with the economy’s ebb and flow, the nonprofit organization is just interested in seeing applicants possessing more income than debt, Jeter said.
Habitat for Humanity applicants still have to pay their mortgage, insurance, property taxes and utilities.
“If they see you can actually physically manage that without struggling, then you can get it,” Jeter said.
The Heart of Habitat Slideshow
Jessica Jeter, daughter of Rev. Dr. DeWayne and Kimberly Jeter, is the events and fundraising coordinator for York County's Habitat for Humanity.
The Taylors, S.C., resident got her start with the organization while attending Wade Hampton High School in Greenville, S.C., and carried her love for volunteering and helping others to Rock Hill when she began attending Winthrop.
While she has been unable to participate in many builds herself, the junior political science/economics double major said she is looking forward to her first one, most specifically the excitement and enthusiasm that comes with helping others.
"It's really just the excitement and the spirit that is actually on the build site," Jeter said.
This slide show displays the spirit, sweat and heart that goes into building a Habitat for Humanity home.
As Jeter put it, York County Habitat for Humanity is small but it is one branch of a large tree of similar organizations devoted to providing housing for low-income families.
The slide show includes pictures of a recent build by York County Habitat for Humanity in Clover, S.C. The families were not identified.
Podcast:
As fundraising and Youth United coordinator for York County's Habitat for Humanity, Jessica Jeter has aided in improving the lives of countless families in Greenville and York County. Initially getting her start as a volunteer in her hometown, Taylors, S.C., the 20-year-old junior economics/political science double major has been touched and inspired by her encounters with several families. I sat down to talk to Jeter about some of the experiences that have touched her most while working with Habitat for Humanity.
Habitat">Habitat
Friday, December 3, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Christian journalist repents, sports new attitude
I have to apologize for the tone my blog has taken.
I have done a serious disservice to my one follower and myself.
While my one follower is a professor in my news reporting class, just knowing the ramifications of some of the things I've posted is enough to spark repentance.
You see, my last blog post was about a week of ones.
Essentially, I was lamenting the cruelty of the week of classes after Thanksgiving Break. While it may be true that this is a hard week, as a disciple of Christ and an example on Winthrop's campus, I should have known better than to air something that can be interpreted as complaining.
Complaining is a natural human response to external, intense and often unfavorable situations.
In fact, some commentators have made a career out of complaining.
The problem lies in then natural, human part.
The human nature is a sin nature.
If complaining is all too human, then it's something I shouldn't indulge in too often.
One of my favorite verses of the Bible, Psalm 37:8 states, "Refrain from anger, turn from wrath. Do not fret, it leads only to evil."
Well, Dictionary.com defines fret as expressing worry, annoyance or discontent. It also means to move in agitation or commotion.
That is something I don't want to do.
The enemy moves in agitation and commotion; he feeds and incites it.
"...Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour" (1 Peter 5:8)
"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy..." (John 10:10)
"And the Lord said to Satan, 'Where have you come from?' Satan answered the Lord, 'From roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it.'" (Job 2:2)
So, you see, complaining, indulging in agitation, annoyance and discontent for prolonged periods of time isn't good.
Some of my blog posts have portrayed my intensely busy schedule and the resulting fatigue I have felt this semester.
That's not encouraging to anyone. That's not edifying to anyone's spirit. That doesn't portray God as a sustainer and healer.
And that's why I aim to change the spirit and tone of this blog.
Initially, I started blogging because professors mandated it in class.
Now, I've found that I've enjoyed it.
One of my desires is to write for a Christian publication one day.
Why not start here?
My only regret is that this revelation didn't come sooner.
Then again, every nudging I felt after a 'down' blog post was Holy Spirit convicting me.
News flash Jonathan--should have listened.
Now I have.
I thank God for this opportunity; for His love and His mercy. Most of all, I thank Him for Him. I thank Him for conviction, forgiveness and another chance.
So, prepare yourselves. The mood will change.
Three things I like to write about: God, comic books and journalism.
God should encompass it all.
He is top priority.
To quote one of my favorite songs by William Murphy: "It's a new season, it's a new day. A fresh anointing, flowing my way. A new day of power and prosperity. It's not a season--it's already on me!"
Time to live in the overflow.
I have done a serious disservice to my one follower and myself.
While my one follower is a professor in my news reporting class, just knowing the ramifications of some of the things I've posted is enough to spark repentance.
You see, my last blog post was about a week of ones.
Essentially, I was lamenting the cruelty of the week of classes after Thanksgiving Break. While it may be true that this is a hard week, as a disciple of Christ and an example on Winthrop's campus, I should have known better than to air something that can be interpreted as complaining.
Complaining is a natural human response to external, intense and often unfavorable situations.
In fact, some commentators have made a career out of complaining.
The problem lies in then natural, human part.
The human nature is a sin nature.
If complaining is all too human, then it's something I shouldn't indulge in too often.
One of my favorite verses of the Bible, Psalm 37:8 states, "Refrain from anger, turn from wrath. Do not fret, it leads only to evil."
Well, Dictionary.com defines fret as expressing worry, annoyance or discontent. It also means to move in agitation or commotion.
That is something I don't want to do.
The enemy moves in agitation and commotion; he feeds and incites it.
"...Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour" (1 Peter 5:8)
"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy..." (John 10:10)
"And the Lord said to Satan, 'Where have you come from?' Satan answered the Lord, 'From roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it.'" (Job 2:2)
So, you see, complaining, indulging in agitation, annoyance and discontent for prolonged periods of time isn't good.
Some of my blog posts have portrayed my intensely busy schedule and the resulting fatigue I have felt this semester.
That's not encouraging to anyone. That's not edifying to anyone's spirit. That doesn't portray God as a sustainer and healer.
And that's why I aim to change the spirit and tone of this blog.
Initially, I started blogging because professors mandated it in class.
Now, I've found that I've enjoyed it.
One of my desires is to write for a Christian publication one day.
Why not start here?
My only regret is that this revelation didn't come sooner.
Then again, every nudging I felt after a 'down' blog post was Holy Spirit convicting me.
News flash Jonathan--should have listened.
Now I have.
I thank God for this opportunity; for His love and His mercy. Most of all, I thank Him for Him. I thank Him for conviction, forgiveness and another chance.
So, prepare yourselves. The mood will change.
Three things I like to write about: God, comic books and journalism.
God should encompass it all.
He is top priority.
To quote one of my favorite songs by William Murphy: "It's a new season, it's a new day. A fresh anointing, flowing my way. A new day of power and prosperity. It's not a season--it's already on me!"
Time to live in the overflow.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
A Week of Ones
The week after Thanksgiving break is sinister.
It's a week filled with incomplete oneness.
After chowing down on turkey, sweet potato pie, macaroni and cheese, corn bread, stuffing, collared greens and a host of other treats that I don't bother cooking myself, who can move?
Who wants to write a paper?
Who wants to study for an exam?
Who wants to traipse to a college campus?
Who wants to wake up at 7 a.m. and not return to a comforting bed until 1 a.m. the next morning?
I didn't want to do any of it.
Alas, I have no choice.
There's one more full week left of classes. There's one more issue left to publish for The Johnsonian. There's one more assignment due for news reporting. There's one more newsletter that needs to be produced at church. There's one more gathering for the college ministry. There's even one more test before finals start.
I'm convinced it's a conspiracy.
Here is where university administrators make you or break you; where they test your value as a student.
With stomachs full and a brief taste of academic reprieve, you're pushed to your limit.
Everything is due within this week. The stuff you started on before Thanksgiving always manages to carry on afterwards--especially if you were unable to access your files due to dial-up connectivity down home :(
Your dedication is tested. Will you strive for an A or settle for a B?
Will you even attempt that one extra-credit assignment?
Will you keep your sanity as professors unload unrealistic expectations onto your fragile frame?
Will you ever go to bed at 10 p.m..? Probably so, just not this week.
Will you finish your Christmas shopping?
Will you make the effort to put up a Christmas tree?
Will you feel holiday joy or will the sounds of children singing classic Christmas carols only upset you?
Will you get it together?
Will you finish this blog post?
It's a week filled with incomplete oneness.
After chowing down on turkey, sweet potato pie, macaroni and cheese, corn bread, stuffing, collared greens and a host of other treats that I don't bother cooking myself, who can move?
Who wants to write a paper?
Who wants to study for an exam?
Who wants to traipse to a college campus?
Who wants to wake up at 7 a.m. and not return to a comforting bed until 1 a.m. the next morning?
I didn't want to do any of it.
Alas, I have no choice.
There's one more full week left of classes. There's one more issue left to publish for The Johnsonian. There's one more assignment due for news reporting. There's one more newsletter that needs to be produced at church. There's one more gathering for the college ministry. There's even one more test before finals start.
I'm convinced it's a conspiracy.
Here is where university administrators make you or break you; where they test your value as a student.
With stomachs full and a brief taste of academic reprieve, you're pushed to your limit.
Everything is due within this week. The stuff you started on before Thanksgiving always manages to carry on afterwards--especially if you were unable to access your files due to dial-up connectivity down home :(
Your dedication is tested. Will you strive for an A or settle for a B?
Will you even attempt that one extra-credit assignment?
Will you keep your sanity as professors unload unrealistic expectations onto your fragile frame?
Will you ever go to bed at 10 p.m..? Probably so, just not this week.
Will you finish your Christmas shopping?
Will you make the effort to put up a Christmas tree?
Will you feel holiday joy or will the sounds of children singing classic Christmas carols only upset you?
Will you get it together?
Will you finish this blog post?
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Student journalist commits blunder
It's one of the hardest things to admit, and in this business, it's pretty permanent.
It bores in your mind incessantly.
You're reminded by your co-workers, your own face, your friends and the clips in your portfolio.
It's a mistake, but not any mistake. We're not talking grammatical errors. We're not talking vacillating misuse of verb tense or dangling modifiers or omitted punctuation.
We're talking misspelling the name of your centerpiece source.
And not just one little slip-up in one graf followed by an immediate correction in the next.
We're talking consistent misspelling in a story that was written practically two weeks ago, held on backlog and then run this week.
We're talking complete and utter embarrassment.
We're talking shame.
To some, it may not be that big of a deal. I'm assuming most people who are thinking that don't work for any kind of media outlet.
One of the first things we learn in journalism and mass media is that people like to see their names in print and online.
It almost gives them the same satisfaction a journalist feels when they see a byline attached to a story they've written.
Yet, it becomes a little more personal in a newspaper. People really don't like to be misrepresented. It's understandable.
For example, I'm not Johnathan McFadden or Jon McFadden or Jonathen McFadden...I'm Jonathan McFadden and I like it that way.
A name is dear and precious and sacred; mine means a gift from God. I don't want that meaning taken away. Sure, adding an extra H after the O isn't that big of a deal, but it's the principle.
The worst part is the potential distrust I've evoked in my community.
If I get this person's name wrong, what's going to stop me from getting this quote wrong?
If I get this quote wrong, what's going to stop me from paraphrasing incorrectly or knowingly protect myself and my publication from libel?
It's a student reporter's worst realization.
I didn't realize it until 10:55 p.m. Thursday night.
My heart sank. I felt bad for the young woman whose name was consistently and utterly destroyed at my hand. I felt sorry for the publication I represent, The Johnsonian, who will only receive more flak due to this discrepancy. I feel humiliated because I know better...always check the names, always, always, always.
What's my excuse?
I can use the defense that it's not easy being a student journalist and balancing that with classes, work, extracurriculars, ministry, church, social interaction and life.
I can say that "you" don't understand the vulnerable position journalists are in. After all, each time we type a word on a screen we allow a piece of ourselves to be exposed to the world. Any word we know or don't know. Any sentence whose syntax is unclear. Any fact mildly questionable. Any story too soft and then too hard, too sympathetic and then too malicious.
No matter how good the writing or how thorough the reporting, that one incident--that one stain of imperfection and forgetfulness will forever taint that story.
It's a heavy responsibility we watchdogs and gatekeepers and advocates and representatives and muckrakers (just kidding) take on.
I'm accountable for my error and to the young woman whom the error was perpetrated against.
This incident will probably be in the back of my mind anytime I apply for an internship or job.
But, it will make me better if I let it.
No, this isn't my first mistake. I take it hard each and every time I make one because it's no light matter. It's nothing I should ever become comfortable shrugging off.
No, this isn't my first mistake and it won't be my last but this is a stepping stool to greater knowledge and wiser practice.
I guarantee I'll triple-check the names next time.
It bores in your mind incessantly.
You're reminded by your co-workers, your own face, your friends and the clips in your portfolio.
It's a mistake, but not any mistake. We're not talking grammatical errors. We're not talking vacillating misuse of verb tense or dangling modifiers or omitted punctuation.
We're talking misspelling the name of your centerpiece source.
And not just one little slip-up in one graf followed by an immediate correction in the next.
We're talking consistent misspelling in a story that was written practically two weeks ago, held on backlog and then run this week.
We're talking complete and utter embarrassment.
We're talking shame.
To some, it may not be that big of a deal. I'm assuming most people who are thinking that don't work for any kind of media outlet.
One of the first things we learn in journalism and mass media is that people like to see their names in print and online.
It almost gives them the same satisfaction a journalist feels when they see a byline attached to a story they've written.
Yet, it becomes a little more personal in a newspaper. People really don't like to be misrepresented. It's understandable.
For example, I'm not Johnathan McFadden or Jon McFadden or Jonathen McFadden...I'm Jonathan McFadden and I like it that way.
A name is dear and precious and sacred; mine means a gift from God. I don't want that meaning taken away. Sure, adding an extra H after the O isn't that big of a deal, but it's the principle.
The worst part is the potential distrust I've evoked in my community.
If I get this person's name wrong, what's going to stop me from getting this quote wrong?
If I get this quote wrong, what's going to stop me from paraphrasing incorrectly or knowingly protect myself and my publication from libel?
It's a student reporter's worst realization.
I didn't realize it until 10:55 p.m. Thursday night.
My heart sank. I felt bad for the young woman whose name was consistently and utterly destroyed at my hand. I felt sorry for the publication I represent, The Johnsonian, who will only receive more flak due to this discrepancy. I feel humiliated because I know better...always check the names, always, always, always.
What's my excuse?
I can use the defense that it's not easy being a student journalist and balancing that with classes, work, extracurriculars, ministry, church, social interaction and life.
I can say that "you" don't understand the vulnerable position journalists are in. After all, each time we type a word on a screen we allow a piece of ourselves to be exposed to the world. Any word we know or don't know. Any sentence whose syntax is unclear. Any fact mildly questionable. Any story too soft and then too hard, too sympathetic and then too malicious.
No matter how good the writing or how thorough the reporting, that one incident--that one stain of imperfection and forgetfulness will forever taint that story.
It's a heavy responsibility we watchdogs and gatekeepers and advocates and representatives and muckrakers (just kidding) take on.
I'm accountable for my error and to the young woman whom the error was perpetrated against.
This incident will probably be in the back of my mind anytime I apply for an internship or job.
But, it will make me better if I let it.
No, this isn't my first mistake. I take it hard each and every time I make one because it's no light matter. It's nothing I should ever become comfortable shrugging off.
No, this isn't my first mistake and it won't be my last but this is a stepping stool to greater knowledge and wiser practice.
I guarantee I'll triple-check the names next time.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Time for God?
As I engaged in a mind spill late tonight, I had to ask myself an important question…where’s my time with God?
I take the time to do my homework.
I take the time to report, write and conduct interviews.
I take the time to assist with layout and page design at least two nights a week, as well as compile a police blotter.
I take the time to go to Bible study, usually sitting on the inside with my mind in so many different places at once that I feel like I’m going to pass out.
I take the time to eat…occasionally.
I take the time to text…usually it’s business related.
I take the time to read my Bible.
I take the time to pray (not as frequently as I used to).
I take the time to go to each and every class.
I take the time to drink a cup of coffee.
In all of this, where did I actually spend time with God?
I can argue that He’s with me always. Well, that’s a given.
I can say, wait, when I read my Bible, I receive direct revelation from Him because He’s speaking to me, right? Well, not necessarily. God is speaking to me, but as a free moral agent, I can always not listen to Him.
Sure I can say I’ve been in Bible study faithfully, but just like Christians can sit in church and receive nothing from the Lord, I can sit in Bible study and still be scatterbrained.
Monday- Thursday I am on Winthrop’s campus generally from 8:30 a.m. until 11 p.m.
That’s a lot of time in one general area.
During those several hours, I wonder how much time I’ve spent with God?
I know I pray. I know I stop doing whatever arduous task I’m engaged in at the time and utter a quick, “Thank you Lord, I love you God.”
But that’s not enough. This I know for a fact
Intimacy with Christ is a direct correlation with a relationship with Him. There was a time when Christ and I were very intimate. Of course, I wasn’t as busy then and I got more sleep.
Still, no excuse. If I can’t pray and fast and praise in the midst of the busy, constantly on-the-go, no stopping ever days of the week, then how strong is my faith?
This is just another mind spill. A deep self reflection that I’m allowing to be published.
Why?
Because I know I’m not the only one. If there’s another Christian in college out there, you know this scenario. You probably know it very well.
Stay encouraged.
Speak the Word of God over your life. That’s what keeps us sustained. That’s what builds our faith-muscles. That’s what draws us closer to Christ.
James 4:4, “Come near to God and He will come near to you”
It’s true.
This is all about relationship.
God never told me to overwhelm myself to the point of collapse.
He never said ignore Him in the process either.
There’s much from this semester that I must repent of. There’s a whole four months of spiritual growth and closeness with Christ that I missed out on.
It was my fault.
I was just too busy for God.
Hmm, now that I think about it—that sounds like a unbeliever’s excuse for not being a Christian.
I’ve…we’ve got to do better.
He deserves so much more.
Lord, forgive us all. Thank you for the capacities you’ve placed in our lives—from journalism to biology to English to barbering to administration to ministry. Help us manage it all. Help us balance it all. Help us love you more. Help us love others more. Help us be closer to you. Help us find time with you.
Now, I need to end the mind spill.
I need to spend time with God…with my refuge…with my sanctuary.
Harmony with God is possible. It's time to seek it.
I take the time to do my homework.
I take the time to report, write and conduct interviews.
I take the time to assist with layout and page design at least two nights a week, as well as compile a police blotter.
I take the time to go to Bible study, usually sitting on the inside with my mind in so many different places at once that I feel like I’m going to pass out.
I take the time to eat…occasionally.
I take the time to text…usually it’s business related.
I take the time to read my Bible.
I take the time to pray (not as frequently as I used to).
I take the time to go to each and every class.
I take the time to drink a cup of coffee.
In all of this, where did I actually spend time with God?
I can argue that He’s with me always. Well, that’s a given.
I can say, wait, when I read my Bible, I receive direct revelation from Him because He’s speaking to me, right? Well, not necessarily. God is speaking to me, but as a free moral agent, I can always not listen to Him.
Sure I can say I’ve been in Bible study faithfully, but just like Christians can sit in church and receive nothing from the Lord, I can sit in Bible study and still be scatterbrained.
Monday- Thursday I am on Winthrop’s campus generally from 8:30 a.m. until 11 p.m.
That’s a lot of time in one general area.
During those several hours, I wonder how much time I’ve spent with God?
I know I pray. I know I stop doing whatever arduous task I’m engaged in at the time and utter a quick, “Thank you Lord, I love you God.”
But that’s not enough. This I know for a fact
Intimacy with Christ is a direct correlation with a relationship with Him. There was a time when Christ and I were very intimate. Of course, I wasn’t as busy then and I got more sleep.
Still, no excuse. If I can’t pray and fast and praise in the midst of the busy, constantly on-the-go, no stopping ever days of the week, then how strong is my faith?
This is just another mind spill. A deep self reflection that I’m allowing to be published.
Why?
Because I know I’m not the only one. If there’s another Christian in college out there, you know this scenario. You probably know it very well.
Stay encouraged.
Speak the Word of God over your life. That’s what keeps us sustained. That’s what builds our faith-muscles. That’s what draws us closer to Christ.
James 4:4, “Come near to God and He will come near to you”
It’s true.
This is all about relationship.
God never told me to overwhelm myself to the point of collapse.
He never said ignore Him in the process either.
There’s much from this semester that I must repent of. There’s a whole four months of spiritual growth and closeness with Christ that I missed out on.
It was my fault.
I was just too busy for God.
Hmm, now that I think about it—that sounds like a unbeliever’s excuse for not being a Christian.
I’ve…we’ve got to do better.
He deserves so much more.
Lord, forgive us all. Thank you for the capacities you’ve placed in our lives—from journalism to biology to English to barbering to administration to ministry. Help us manage it all. Help us balance it all. Help us love you more. Help us love others more. Help us be closer to you. Help us find time with you.
Now, I need to end the mind spill.
I need to spend time with God…with my refuge…with my sanctuary.
Harmony with God is possible. It's time to seek it.
Community Journalism: It's A Passion
Okay, there are many things that a man can call a passion.
For example, a man can be passionate about his work.
A man can be passionate about his faith.
A man can be passionate about his toe.
In today's society, we commonly find people passionate about making money. You can say they love their work, but the bountiful paycheck (if you can find jobs that have those anymore) doesn't hurt.
I haven't personally met many millionaires who were also passionate.
My perspective is skewed, of course, considering my desire is to enter the world of media--where salaries are cut, paychecks lofty and jobs tenuous.
Being a journalist has to be a labor of love.
Finding a story, digging around for research, scoping out sources, interviewing sources, writing on deadline, writing well, writing better than the nearest competitor, writing better than your co-worker, writing better than you did yesterday, writing better than you did one hour ago--all of this has to constitute a mad, agape love for what we do.
Otherwise, reporters would go insane.
Not everyone understands this passion, of course.
Some would prefer the comforts of an office, 9 til 6, Monday-Friday, without fail, without spontaneity, without room for the unusual, without excitement.
Others, on the other hand, thrive on being on the go constantly; thrive from the adrenalin pumping through one's veins when they sniff out a hot story (especially if they get it first).
Personally, I enjoy journalism immensely--it's one of my passions.
I like reporting.
I enjoy interviewing sources.
I get excited throughout the whole process.
I giggle a bit on the inside when I find out tidbits of new information that only a privileged few know.
I find utter release and experience euphoric, rapturous joy when I craft words into Mona-Lisa masterpiece portraits and then see my byline above them.
Weirdly enough, I like the texture of newsprint.
My desire is to work for a community daily or weekly paper. I want to be immersed in a community--not separated from it. I want to be the reporter the people come to and divulge knowledge to because they are confident I will find it out, write it well and report it fairly and accurately.
I want to have coffee with Farmer Joe.
I want to go to church with Old Mrs. Huxley down the road.
When I cut my grass, I want to wave to the new young couple that just moved into the neighborhood.
I want to get into the city council meetings and not be gawked at as if I were an unwelcome stranger.
I want to walk into the police station and be on a first-name basis with the sheriff and lieutenant.
I want to go to Bible study with Mrs. Huxley too.
I want community journalism. It makes any journalist a better one. It keeps us accountable. It keeps us busy. It keeps us good.
Yes, at a community paper, there's a chance one reporter will have the duties equivalent to five staff members at a metro-daily.
It's probable that at a community paper, a rookie will be working eight days a week and be getting paid for at least two of those days.
But it's a true passion and that's why I love the work.
Working as assistant news editor of The Johnsonian has only exacerbated that love.
Times have been tough. Managing it all has been difficult. I would quit if I didn't love it so much. But I do and that's why I want to keep going.
I view journalism as God's mandate for my life.
People can be reached by my words. Souls can be saved by a few paragraphs.
My all time goal is to either work for a strictly Christian publication or own my own.
If it's God's will, it will happen.
In the meantime, I'm going to get my feet wet, gain the experience, establish the connections and definitely produce the clips.
This passion of mine will continue as long as the Good Lord says so.
I will get better. I will work harder. I will get a job as a community journalist.
My community out there--whoever you are, wherever you are--get ready.
Sheriff Wilkes and Officer Williams, I'll be knocking on your door first thing Monday morning.
Farmer Joe, make sure to order me a small coffee with six sugars and two creams.
Mrs. Huxley, my favorite Scripture is Matthew 11:28. Save me a seat at Bible study.
For example, a man can be passionate about his work.
A man can be passionate about his faith.
A man can be passionate about his toe.
In today's society, we commonly find people passionate about making money. You can say they love their work, but the bountiful paycheck (if you can find jobs that have those anymore) doesn't hurt.
I haven't personally met many millionaires who were also passionate.
My perspective is skewed, of course, considering my desire is to enter the world of media--where salaries are cut, paychecks lofty and jobs tenuous.
Being a journalist has to be a labor of love.
Finding a story, digging around for research, scoping out sources, interviewing sources, writing on deadline, writing well, writing better than the nearest competitor, writing better than your co-worker, writing better than you did yesterday, writing better than you did one hour ago--all of this has to constitute a mad, agape love for what we do.
Otherwise, reporters would go insane.
Not everyone understands this passion, of course.
Some would prefer the comforts of an office, 9 til 6, Monday-Friday, without fail, without spontaneity, without room for the unusual, without excitement.
Others, on the other hand, thrive on being on the go constantly; thrive from the adrenalin pumping through one's veins when they sniff out a hot story (especially if they get it first).
Personally, I enjoy journalism immensely--it's one of my passions.
I like reporting.
I enjoy interviewing sources.
I get excited throughout the whole process.
I giggle a bit on the inside when I find out tidbits of new information that only a privileged few know.
I find utter release and experience euphoric, rapturous joy when I craft words into Mona-Lisa masterpiece portraits and then see my byline above them.
Weirdly enough, I like the texture of newsprint.
My desire is to work for a community daily or weekly paper. I want to be immersed in a community--not separated from it. I want to be the reporter the people come to and divulge knowledge to because they are confident I will find it out, write it well and report it fairly and accurately.
I want to have coffee with Farmer Joe.
I want to go to church with Old Mrs. Huxley down the road.
When I cut my grass, I want to wave to the new young couple that just moved into the neighborhood.
I want to get into the city council meetings and not be gawked at as if I were an unwelcome stranger.
I want to walk into the police station and be on a first-name basis with the sheriff and lieutenant.
I want to go to Bible study with Mrs. Huxley too.
I want community journalism. It makes any journalist a better one. It keeps us accountable. It keeps us busy. It keeps us good.
Yes, at a community paper, there's a chance one reporter will have the duties equivalent to five staff members at a metro-daily.
It's probable that at a community paper, a rookie will be working eight days a week and be getting paid for at least two of those days.
But it's a true passion and that's why I love the work.
Working as assistant news editor of The Johnsonian has only exacerbated that love.
Times have been tough. Managing it all has been difficult. I would quit if I didn't love it so much. But I do and that's why I want to keep going.
I view journalism as God's mandate for my life.
People can be reached by my words. Souls can be saved by a few paragraphs.
My all time goal is to either work for a strictly Christian publication or own my own.
If it's God's will, it will happen.
In the meantime, I'm going to get my feet wet, gain the experience, establish the connections and definitely produce the clips.
This passion of mine will continue as long as the Good Lord says so.
I will get better. I will work harder. I will get a job as a community journalist.
My community out there--whoever you are, wherever you are--get ready.
Sheriff Wilkes and Officer Williams, I'll be knocking on your door first thing Monday morning.
Farmer Joe, make sure to order me a small coffee with six sugars and two creams.
Mrs. Huxley, my favorite Scripture is Matthew 11:28. Save me a seat at Bible study.
HOORAY TO NABJ
There are those times in life where you feel really proud to be a part of something.
Tonight was one of those nights for me.
This semester has been a rough one for me mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically.
Eighteen hours, The Johnsonian, Taking Opportunities to Prevail, NABJ, off-campus living, newsletter ministry at church, a work study job and trying to maintain a GPA above a 3.5 all weighed heavily on me these past few months. It hasn't been an easy journey. There have been nights of frustration; periods where I was ready to give up. Though I am hesitant to admit it, there are times where I've experienced a greater distance from God than I ever have before.
Yet, in the midst of this, God blessed me with moments of satisfaction, joy, accomplishment, revelation and pride.
November 17 was definitely in the proud accomplishment category.
NABJ helped me remember the reward that awaits at the end of a long road.
Tonight, NABJ held our second on-campus event, the Media Mixer.
Professionals ranging from the editor-in-chief of Creative Loafing, Carlton Hargro, to WSOC TV news reporter Ken Lemon, showed up to mix, mingle and hob-nob with Winthrop's mass communication undergrads.
A good time was had by all. There was free food. There was an open forum for discussion. There was an opportunity to exchange business cards, e-mail addresses, phone numbers, ideas and advice.
Tonight, NABJ did something above and beyond the call of duty, as Ken Lemon put it.
Not only that, we celebrated one year as a chartered minority-centric organization on Winthrop's predominantly white campus.
To add to our accolades, we're the only university chapter in the Charlotte-Metro area and in South Carolina.
In my opinion, we're doing pretty good.
Sure, there is room for improvement. Of course we have a lot to learn but I have to say that pride swelled up on the inside once the night was finished.
While washing fruit-plate dishes and lugging a crock-pot of meatballs, I could only think of how we made a name for ourselves--not only on Winthrop's campus but in the eyes of those who we consider to have "made it."
Networking has become an art for members of NABJ and we plan to continue to perfect it.
I'm proud to be a part of something so big. We may be few in number but in effort and spirit, we're mighty and numerous.
Seeing the hard work, sweat and even occasional worry pay off really makes a vice-president smile.
Beyond fatigued eyes and waning strength, a youthful vigor assaulted me on the inside. The vibe in the room was contagious.
We had a cake too.
Congratulations NABJ. You've made me proud, you've made Winthrop proud, but most importantly, you've grown from the first few blunders and missteps.
No, we're not unstoppable or flawless. Once again, there's room for improvement but after showing what we can do, there's also room for growth and added membership.
We're good NABJ. Let's keep it going.
Looking forward to Spring 2011.
Tonight was one of those nights for me.
This semester has been a rough one for me mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically.
Eighteen hours, The Johnsonian, Taking Opportunities to Prevail, NABJ, off-campus living, newsletter ministry at church, a work study job and trying to maintain a GPA above a 3.5 all weighed heavily on me these past few months. It hasn't been an easy journey. There have been nights of frustration; periods where I was ready to give up. Though I am hesitant to admit it, there are times where I've experienced a greater distance from God than I ever have before.
Yet, in the midst of this, God blessed me with moments of satisfaction, joy, accomplishment, revelation and pride.
November 17 was definitely in the proud accomplishment category.
NABJ helped me remember the reward that awaits at the end of a long road.
Tonight, NABJ held our second on-campus event, the Media Mixer.
Professionals ranging from the editor-in-chief of Creative Loafing, Carlton Hargro, to WSOC TV news reporter Ken Lemon, showed up to mix, mingle and hob-nob with Winthrop's mass communication undergrads.
A good time was had by all. There was free food. There was an open forum for discussion. There was an opportunity to exchange business cards, e-mail addresses, phone numbers, ideas and advice.
Tonight, NABJ did something above and beyond the call of duty, as Ken Lemon put it.
Not only that, we celebrated one year as a chartered minority-centric organization on Winthrop's predominantly white campus.
To add to our accolades, we're the only university chapter in the Charlotte-Metro area and in South Carolina.
In my opinion, we're doing pretty good.
Sure, there is room for improvement. Of course we have a lot to learn but I have to say that pride swelled up on the inside once the night was finished.
While washing fruit-plate dishes and lugging a crock-pot of meatballs, I could only think of how we made a name for ourselves--not only on Winthrop's campus but in the eyes of those who we consider to have "made it."
Networking has become an art for members of NABJ and we plan to continue to perfect it.
I'm proud to be a part of something so big. We may be few in number but in effort and spirit, we're mighty and numerous.
Seeing the hard work, sweat and even occasional worry pay off really makes a vice-president smile.
Beyond fatigued eyes and waning strength, a youthful vigor assaulted me on the inside. The vibe in the room was contagious.
We had a cake too.
Congratulations NABJ. You've made me proud, you've made Winthrop proud, but most importantly, you've grown from the first few blunders and missteps.
No, we're not unstoppable or flawless. Once again, there's room for improvement but after showing what we can do, there's also room for growth and added membership.
We're good NABJ. Let's keep it going.
Looking forward to Spring 2011.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
