all things

Moving Day

2007-02-18T22:00:00.000-08:00

I have moved...

http://breathingsteady.wordpress.com

Love Won't Cure the Chaos

2007-01-27T20:06:00.000-08:00

I often carry around this sense of failure. I often feel that I have failed as a follower of Christ, as a woman, a friend, or simply a human being. If I pray or spend some time with Scripture, I always feels like I could have done both longer. I often catch a glimpse in the mirror and think I have somehow failed as a woman, that there is very little, if any, beauty in the image before me. I will hesitate to call someone when I know they want to talk to me simply because I am tired and don't feel like chatting; then I feel I am failing them as a friend. Jesus said to clothe the naked, to feed the hungry, and to love the worst of humanity but I don't do much about any of those things. Then I feel as if I am failing on the most basic human level, that I do not care near enough about the person next to me. I have mentioned that I am in the middle of co-leading a book study for the girls in my church's youth group. I wonder every week as we meet what they could possibly learn from me about God or about the female heart. I so often doubt God and I can count on one hand the number of times I have felt truly captivating.

I have thought about God a lot lately. I have thought about all the things I should be doing but am not. I have thought about how undeserving I am to come before Him with anything. I have felt that all I have to give Him is left over pocket change and that even that has been tainted, simply because my fingers have touched it.

I know God is a gracious God, but for some reason I just can't seem to accept that. I believe that if Hitler or Stalin or Hussein called out to God at the last moments of their lives, He would have saved them. Yet I have a hard time believing that God does the same for me.

Last night was an event held for the girls in the book study. We arranged six rooms and each had a theme that matched a chapter in the book we're going through. The church was mostly dark. We had two hundred candles lit, so the mood was very dreamy. In the rooms were interactive things we had the girls go through to simply help them reflect on whatever it was that God was hopefully saying to them. In one room, we had posters hung on the walls with each of the girls' names on them. We had every girl go through and write down something that they found beautiful about their peers. I took the posters home to give out to the girls later and was looking through them when I got home last night. I was amazed at the level of depth in some of their comments to one another. I was amazed at the love I saw, the patience, and the kindness. I was moved by what they wrote under my name, but one comment struck me more than the others. One girl told me that she had looked up to me for years, ever since I came to the church I am at now. I was amazed that anyone at all could look at me and feel the need to follow my steps. I wanted to call this girl and tell her that she could find much better role models; I could have given her some numbers.

I thought about her words today at work, a day that did not leave me feeling worthy or captivating in any way. But as I thought about what she said, and as I pictured in my mind the people I respect and love the most, I saw a theme: no one, even those I so revere, is anywhere near holy. Those who I place so high above myself, those whose prayers are always so eloquent, those who always show kindness, they are no less flawed than I am. Since that is true, it logically follows that if those people can be used to speak into my life, then I suppose there is a chance for my life to be used in a similar fashion.

There's a Jars of Clay song that I have been listening to incessantly this week. It says what I am currently thinking about and feeling far better (and far more compact) than I am now...

Shoot a dream in your arm and sleep away
It's not the stuff that kills you that keeps your life at bay
Every crash pulls you in reach
Of a watershed of signal flares that cover your beach

These are just placebos to make us feel all right
Illusions in our pockets make our feathers float us high
For a second I thought I saw your eyelids rise
A moment, something restless caught you by surprise
Surprise, surprise

We are so beautiful when we sleep
Hearts of gold and eyes so deep, deep, deep
But love won't cure the chaos
And hope won't hide the loss
And peace is not the heroine that shouts above the cause
And love is wild for reasons
And hope, though short in sight
Might be the only thing that wakes you by surprise

Consider me slightly woken.

I am just now learning that life's biggest, most important lessons do not come from a thundrous voice in the heavens, but instead in little snippets of thought we are not capable of thinking on our own.

The Obligatory New Year's Reflection Post

2007-01-01T21:07:00.000-08:00

In these annual reflections, I always say that in the ocean-sized mass of lessons I have learned throughout the course of the past 365 days, one lesson stands out about the rest. But this year, I think it's been more about a steady stream of smaller lessons, building on each other, lessons I have learned and then quickly forgotten, along with lessons I am not quite comfortable with yet. Overall, 2006 was a good year. I have hope, however, that 2007 will be a slightly better one. Perhaps if I actually apply the truths I've been dealing with lately, it can be. So here it is, the things 2006 has taught me through various people, places, songs, movies, silences, etc...

LESSON NUMBER ONE: THE ONLY THING MY FAITH SHOULD BE ABOUT IS JESUS

When I was in middle school, the one thing I craved was drama. I wanted my life to be complicated. I wanted my life to be a mirror image of a WB show, really. I wanted tension, stress, and situations that would challenge me. However, drama did not occur. I did not have huge fights with my friends. No boys fought over me. My parents had a healthy, loving marriage. My life was picture perfect and that should have appeased me, but I wanted a good story. I remember writing in my journal and taking small things and blowing them up into huge things, just for the drama of it. Talking with various friends, I know I am not the only one that has done this at some point. I don't understand why I wanted drama so badly. I suppose it was because I saw drama in people's lives I admired at the time, people who were basically just high school students who I thought were the most amazing people to ever grace the planet.

I say all of this because I think this is often what I try to do spiritually. I have certainly never set out to make my relationship with Christ more rocky or tumultuous than it already is on its own, but over time I have made things more cluttered, more complex.

I have sat down with my Bible, and I expected the voice of God to come booming down from the heavens with some divine revelation. I have begun to pray and told God right off the bat I wanted a sign, some sort of burning bush. I have walked into worship giving myself a sort of pep talk. I have forced so much, or at least have tried to. I have pondered ideas of theology, wrestled with certain Scriptures, read a slew of Christian books, and tried to make myself better, cleaner. Yet in most of this, I missed the point. I was so busy trying to be the "good Christian" that I neglected Jesus. To me, Christianity had become synonymous with being good. I figured that if a person was good, they were the real deal, a genuine Christian, a gold-medal winner, so to speak. And if a person was less than good, they were shallow, fake, or misguided. I was judging the hearts of people I didn't even know. I began comparing myself to others. I would have these conversations in my head that would go something like this:

"Well, I'm certainly doing a better job in this area than this person is, but so-and-so prays more often and better than I do. Gotta work on that. I beat this person in this area, but this guy does this and this and I don't do either."

It was completely ridiculous. The only thing that separates true Christianity from every other religion in the world is the concept of grace and that was the one concept I was ignoring completely. I thought I had to get clean before I came to God; I was forgetting that it was only He that could do the cleansing.

Though I know I didn't have to work in order to earn my salvation, I felt I had to do all these things in order to win God's favor. I felt like such a screw up in certain moments that it felt like the only option. I was forgetting that God loves as a father does.

I learned this year that my spirituality is not about lists and laws and obligations. It is not about being good or being bad. It is not about anything other than Jesus. My whole pursuit should be Jesus. What is the point of pursuing goodness without pursuing the only One who is good? I realized that true, genuine Christianity, the Christianity of the Bible, the Christianity that changes lives and causes people to fall in love with Christ, is all about knowing Jesus, becoming enthralled by Him, then imitating Him to a world full of people who are desperate for some grace, of which He is an expert.

LESSON NUMBER TWO: I HAVE TO RISK MYSELF ON PEOPLE

One of my favorite books is Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz. God has used that book in enormous ways to speak into my life. There is a certain chapter that contains part of a play that Miller had written called Polaroids. The excerpt in the book was of a husband kneeling at the bedside of his sleeping wife, confessing and apologizing, and also making new promises. The words at the end struck me most:

"God risked Himself on me. I will risk myself on you. And together, we will learn to love, and perhaps then, and only then, understand the gravity that drew Him, unto us."

I have struggled with loneliness in immense amounts this year. It has broken my heart at times. I know in my head that I am loved by family and friends, that I have people who enjoy my company. Yet there has often been this haunting feeling that I am essentially on my own in things.

I think that I was expecting everyone in my life to pour themselves out for me before I poured myself out to them. I wanted to be invited into people's lives, yet I was hesitant to do the inviting for fear of being rejected. I wanted deep, meaningful relationships yet I was sitting back waiting for someone else to initiate them. I refused to risk myself on anyone at all because risk often ends badly, I thought, hurting the risk-taker. I am learning, however, that in order for any relationship in my life to mean something, I must risk myself on the people I love. I must serve them. I must listen to them. I must invite them into something. I must accept them as Jesus would. I must show them grace, even when I feel they might not deserve it.

LESSON NUMBER THREE: GOD LOVES ME

I have been told my entire life that I am loved by God. I have sung "Jesus Loves Me" countless times, as all good Baptists do. I have known of God's love, at times felt it, often endorsed it, and sometimes even tried to share it. But it was not until this year, my 19th year of life, that I realized for the first time God loved me. I know that God loves the world, but this realization of God loving me, the quirky, singular me, was somewhat shocking. Another new concept that came along with this was the notion that God not only loved me, but that He actually likes me. I realized that God enjoyed it when I was giddy about the bouquet of daisies I bought myself this summer. I realized that His heart is blessed when I smile or laugh. I realized that God does indeed have a heart that hurts with mine and often for mine, a heart that breaks when mine does, a heart that yearns so badly to fix my own.

I cannot do anything to make God think less of me. And I cannot do anything to make God think more of me. His love is constant and His grace is a concept I cannot fathom for the life of me. Perhaps it is best the way.

LESSON NUMBER FOUR: THE BIBLE IS FULL OF FAILURES

When I was in the habit of comparing myself to others spiritually, men and women in Scripture would often come into my mind. I looked at people like Mary and Paul, people like Peter and David. But then I realized that Mary was just an average teenager when she was chosen to carry the Messiah. She was simply willing to obey. She was listening for the voice of God and heard Him when He spoke. She was brave and strong, yet vulnerable enough to carry a son who would amaze her, scare her, and eventually who would save her. She was an ordinary person who was simply listening.

Paul, Peter and David were also men who were not all that remarkable. Paul had a great hatred for Christians, so much so then he murdered them yet God chose Paul to be one of the best evangelists the world has ever seen. Peter served God faithfully and with love, yet He eventually denied the Jesus He followed. Though He truly did love Jesus, He failed Him. David is the most amazing of the bunch to me. The man lusted, slept with a woman that wasn't his wife but someone else's, got her pregnant, then killed the husband. It sounds like a soap opera, really. In spite of David's many sins, God called him a man after His own heart. David's Psalms are beautiful and the perfect example of what an honest relationship with God should look like.

God loved the ordinary and the less than ordinary. He reached out to society's worst. He reached out to prostitutues, to the diseased, to the tax collectors. He called uneducated fisherman to be His best friends, His disciples. I realized this year that God is the God of the losers and the sick, the depraved and the defiled. He came to heal and capture once again the heart of His Bride.

Out of the myriad of lessons learned this year, these four have been the most vital, I think. I am grateful to have learned them and am grateful for the blessings which have been so lavishly poured upon my head. I am hopeful about this coming year. I have faith it will be a good one.

Three Things I Have Realized

2006-12-30T19:32:00.000-08:00

3) I knew this already, but I was reminded once again this year that Christmas is a wonderful time.

2) Starbucks giftcards are fantastic.

*drumroll*

1) Arrested Development is the funniest thing I've ever seen.

I'll attempt something with a bit more depth later...

Amazing Indeed

2006-12-08T20:37:00.000-08:00

Lately, I've been wrestling with ideas of worship and grace and how I seem to lack skills in both departments. I think it all comes down to what Donald Miller calls the cycle of self-addiction. As I truly examine my faith, it is shocking to realize that 90% of it is all about me and what I want or what I feel.

I was talking to a friend of mine the other night and was telling her that I miss having small college-aged gatherings. I miss the feeling of a group of my peers coming together to worship. But it's not really the worship I miss at all. I miss the warm and fuzzy feeling that a time like that can bring. I remember youth camps and retreats and the intense times of worship that were had. But so many of those were not truly worship for me, but emotional highs created by an environment set up to do just that. So even in "worship," I am simply thinking of myself and what I want. I wanted to sing songs that I liked and be around people I liked and react to the music however I liked. But it was all about me in the end.

When I think of worship, the first thing that comes to mind is singing songs. But that is just one incredibly tiny aspect of what worship is supposed to be as a whole. I think it's incredibly difficult to worship through music, actually, at least for me. Instead of putting myself aside and being filled with awe of Christ, I think about the song I'm singing and how I don't like it. Or I think about another song I wish I was singing instead. Or when I like a certain song, I am more "tuned-in," so to speak. It all comes back to what I do and do not like.

As I was thinking about worship and how I fail miserably in regard to it, I started thinking about other things that qualify as worship, so much more so than singing a song halfheartedly. Isn't loving someone who is so much less than lovely worship? Isn't forgiving someone who has not asked for it worship? Isn't putting yourself aside and taking care of someone else's needs first worship? Worship means to stand in awe and reverence of God, and what says reverence to God more than trying to be like Him?

These thoughts all brought me to grace, a topic which I cannot seem to get enough of, probably because I understand so little of it. What I know of grace is fantastic, what I have felt of grace is undescribable, and what I have left to learn of grace is eternal. I live in a world where a person must earn what they receive. I work to earn a paycheck. I work to earn decent grades. I work to earn people's approval. I work to make myself better. The world demands that we must offer something in order to be approved, in order to be named. The church demands that we must be good before we can be accepted. But grace demands nothing. It asks nothing. It takes nothing. And it is something the world is hungry for.

I just started reading Phillip Yancey's classic What's So Amazing About Grace? While I have only finished the fourth chapter, I am already overwhelmed with how incredible a thought like grace is. When I doubt God most, I often turn to thoughts of grace. When the concept of God seems trivial and silly, like something man made up to aid in his quest for fulfillment, I am reminded that man could never have thought up an idea like grace. It doesn't make sense to human beings. It never will. I don't think anyone can truly fathom what grace is and also what it is not.

I think grace is the entire heart of Christianity. It is something, too, that is so often overlooked in the faith. All Christians acknowledge grace, but so very few actually lived a grace-filled lifestyle. Living a life full of grace is not just loving others who are not worth it or forgiving people who have not sought it; another important aspect of living a grace-filled life is being able to forgive yourself and being able to let go of your own monsters. I think one of Satan's greatest tools is to convince a follower of Christ that he or she is too dirty to be forgiven, too filthy to be used. He reminds us of our past as a way of saying that we are not good enough to be called by God, that we are not strong enough to resist failure, and that we are not created in God's image but instead in the image of sin.

Whenever I read about Christianity in a secular publication, I never hear anything good about it. Most people mock Christianity. Most people have strong feelings about Christians, usually not good feelings. And somehow, I feel that we (at least I) have earned this. We have taken Christianity and made it into a list of laws, a series of traditions, and taken grace and put a price tag on it.

During spring quarter earlier this year, I was talking with someone in my lit class. We were working on a group project together and we got to school extra early one morning to go over some things. She told me that she had attended a Christian college for a short time, even though she was Buddhist. When her classmates found out about her faith, they asked her why she was there at all, why she bothered coming to their school. What this told her about Christians is that they are harsh, judgmental, and only accept people like them. I still think about her story so often.

The Jesus that I see in Scripture was not reflected in the classroom of that university. The Jesus that I believe existed is so often absent from attitudes. The Jesus that revolutionized the world is so often portrayed as someone He was not, as someone He came to rid the world of in the first place.

I have been realizing more and more lately that all the traditions and laws of the Christian faith must take second place to what it really is all about. The only thing that should matter is Jesus and being more like Him. If every Christian truly knew Jesus and adamantly desired to be in His likeness, I truly believe that the world would be a different place. Many people already have their minds made up about Jesus because of foolish Christians who have neglected grace. I don't want to be someone that scars a non-believer and tells him or her that they cannot approach God until they are clean. The person I would like to be is the type of person who is simply a reflection of the Christ that walked on our roads and slept in our beds and drank of our water. What screams of grace more than Jesus stepping foot onto a world that has betrayed Him, simply in order to win that world back?

Delaney

2006-12-03T21:19:00.000-08:00

My friend Jodi had a beautiful baby girl this morning. Her name is Delaney, and I am officially in love.

As I gazed at Delaney this morning, I was just so overwhelmed by how blessed she is. She has two parents that are in love with each other and also with her. She had a waiting room full of people eager to meet her. She is going to be loved and cherished.

I am amazed that this little girl is not only loved by me and countless others, but that God also loves her and decided to bless our lives with her. Knowing that God has a plan for her life is just the most awesome of feelings. Knowing that her parents will raise her and tell her how much God loves her, how much they love her, is so special.

This is the best early Christmas present ever.

Carry My Heart in the Palm of Your Hand

2006-12-01T21:12:00.000-08:00

Carry my heart in the palm of your hand
My efforts have left it more barren and dry
It is a scandal that I would reject
A healing so vivid, so kind

Forlorn I have left you, not seeming to care
That you have a heart, just like mine
I am a coward who cannot own up
To a heart I have hurt many times

Is mercy enough to bind us together?
Will hope ever heal the deepest of wounds?
Will you accept worship from me, though I'm frail
If I bring the tithe and perfume?

To heal me, you'd have to come closer
To see where the scars make their home
But I can't stay still for our union
My feet always wander and roam

But still you stepped into our skin
Knowing that with it meant pain
And not just the beatings of killers
Who would laugh and then dance on your grave

But the pain of a bed that was empty
The pain of a life spent alone
And though you had those who would follow
There was only so much they could know

And for me, you have laid there awake
Knowing your worth was much more
Missing your home, its perfection
Convincing yourself of the chore

But you stayed, just to walk on our dirt
You talked to the worst of our kin
You blasted the holy and instead chose to love
The ones who were wedded to sin

So carry my heart in the palm of your hand
Remove all the barbs that go deep
Love me, that I might love you in return
Love me, that I might then leap

Learning to Accept

2006-11-30T18:59:00.000-08:00

I think one of my biggest struggles when it comes to faith is that I haven't been allowing God to name me. I have wrestled so much lately with failure and a seemingly endless cycle of self-addiction. I felt God didn't hear my prayers because of my sin. Then I wondered if that was true if He ever heard any prayers at all since I am human and always sinning, even when I might not know it. I am trapped in flesh.

I question so much sometimes. I get so wrapped up in the theology. I have made my Christianity so complex and twisted. Really, Christianity can be summed up by saying that God loves His people and will do anything to win their hearts.

I had decided, though, that I wasn't worthy of His pursuit anymore. I told myself to stop trying because I could never be "good" or at least good enough. I have let my own doubts name me as a Failure. I have let Satan name me Unworthy. I have let my wound name me as Ugly. I had forgotten that God calls me His daughter. And fathers always love their daughters, regardless of their selfishness or struggles or addictions. They love them without condition, the way God loves me.

Another struggle I constantly face is simply that I am always hoping to figure out God. I think that maybe if I read one more book or hear one more sermon that God and His ways will suddenly make sense. But to expect God to make any sense at all is an unattainable dream. God is too beyond my very small mind.

And while I do not understand all of God's aspects or understand why He chooses to continually pursue me, I believe that I am loved and wanted and desired. And this is in no way my doing. It is only grace that makes love possible.

One of Satan's greatest tools, I think, is causing people to forget the grace of God. When a person forgets about grace, they will wrestle with guilt. Shame will name them as Dirty. They will feel like a failure, like they will never quite be enough.

Most people don't help uncover these lies, however, including me. How often do I encourage? How often do I forgive someone who hasn't asked for it? How often do I truly treat someone as Jesus would?

Again, I was reminded the other night that I have to start accepting the love of God. Without accepting God's love, I will never get anywhere at all. I used to wonder how to accept God's love, but I think I figured it out. Accepting God's love starts with rejecting Satan's lies. It starts with denouncing the message of my wound. It starts with realizing that I will never be worthy, but that through the grace of God I am claimed anyway.

It's amazing how light my heart felt after being reminded of the grace of God. I just sat in the middle of my bed, sobbing. I hid my face and just allowed myself to weep for a moment, out of sheer brokenness and amazed joy.

To close, one of my favorite pieces of Scripture that always makes me feel captivating...

"'In that day,' declares the Lord, 'you will call me 'my Husband'; you will no longer call me 'my master.'"

Hosea 2:16

To Say Thanks

2006-11-22T21:39:00.000-08:00

Things I am thankful for:

*My MP3 player
*Best friends
*Beautiful high heels
*Great music
*Sparkly lip gloss
*The scent of tea
*Manicures
*Family
*Really good TV shows
*The library
*Holiday sales
*My friend Katy's dog, Five
*Huckleberry lip balm
*A dinner out with friends
*Yummy dessert
*Working out and feeling oddly pretty afterwards
*Starbucks
*The fact that chemistry is almost over
*My mom's homemade hot cocoa
*Laughter
*The Bible Trivia game
*Mix CDs
*Really gripping books
*My gorgeous brown tweed coat
*Curly hair
*New perfume
*Freshly-baked cookies

I'm Never Good at Titles

2006-11-07T14:26:00.000-08:00

Well, it's certainly been a great length of time since this blog has had the “new post” button clicked. I'm not really sure why, either.

The Captivating book study that I talked about a couple of entries ago has finally started. I am genuinely amazed at myself, or rather amazed at how God has been shaping my heart and working through me. I don't do leadership things. It's not my forte. I steer away from the thought any time I can. I also don't do youth. I have little patience for youth. Hanging out with middle and high school girls is not my idea of a great time. But it has been a great time so far. I've really been enjoying the girls and I've loved hearing their thoughts and ideas on the book.

Something that always frustrated me when I was still in the youth group was that some adults in the leadership positions didn't seem to believe that youth were capable of using their heads and truly thinking through things. It seemed as if many thought we were unable to handle anything more than the basic theological ideas, dressed down to suit our high school lives. One of my main goals with this study is to really get the girls to use their heads. I don't want them to be able to tell me everything there is to know about theology and how this book entertwines with that; I do, however, want to give them questions they might wrestle with, or address topics that might seem foreign or, in some cases, scary.

One of the reasons I love Captivating is because it deals with the human heart. It doesn't give a three-step plan for a successful Christian life. It doesn't tell women that make-up is evil, that physical beauty is a useless thing, and that they are only meant to be servants. It doesn't address the symptoms, but instead the disease. I think the heart is so often missed in Christianity. So much of the faith has been reduced to a formula.

God has really been speaking to me through Scripture lately. I've been amazed at how He has led me right to particular passages that talk about exactly what I had been wrestling with. Last night on my way to work, I was driving and just thinking about how frustrated I was. I had been trying so hard to see God, to hear God, to be used by God. But instead of hearing His voice, I got silence. Instead of feeling alive in His love, I felt numb to it. I got to work a little bit early and was just sitting in my car listening to music. Then Psalm 13 was brought to my head. I keep a small Bible in my purse for church so I pulled it out and read. Psalm 13 is David asking God why He seems distant, why He hides His face. The questions David was pondering were the ones I was wondering about, also. In spite of the questions, though, David mentions God's unfailing love. In one or two of the other Scriptures God has led me to lately, the exact words "unfailing love" were mentioned. It's just a reminder for me that regardless of how I am emotionally or regardless of how I messed up spiritually, God's love is constant always. It is there always. And when I don't feel it, it is probably because I have taken myself away from it and instead began to search for it in something else.

Faith is often frustrating for me, but I'm finding that the more honest I am with God the more I learn and the more I feel His presence.

This Is Our Greatest Offense

2006-09-30T20:09:00.000-07:00

A couple of quarters ago, I was taking my first literature class. One of the stories I read was by Langston Hughes. Something one of the characters said in the story was that sometimes you have to tear down the church to get Jesus off the cross. I remember being struck by that line. I pondered it for a while and couldn't quite figure out what I found so meaningful or honest about it. But it's stayed with me for a while now, and it came back to me last night. I started thinking about it, and I came up with this...

I think there are two types of Christians. Those who live in the shadow of Christ's resurrection and those who do not. What I mean is that some Christians live their lives as if Christ never rose at all. They're still believers, they're still good, but that's where it ends. But is it really enough to simply be good?

Those who live in the shadow of Christ's resurrection are people of hope. They know that when life is at its worst, there is still a small chance for something amazing to break through. They have faith, but they also allow themselves to wrestle. They don't pretend that God's ways are always crystal clear. They don't pretend that their lives are spotless. They don't pretend to be someone they're not just because they happen to be in a church building. They are real, but they are striving to be more like the One who created them, without judging those who do not share their ambitions.

The other type of Christian I see are those whose faith ends at the cross. They were a sinner, Jesus came to save them, and He died for their sins. But it seems these people forget that he also rose. They forget the hope that comes with the resurrection. They forget that the life Christ promises His Bride is not simply a new life in heaven, but a new life here on this earth. These people acknowledge salvation and even have it, but they often neglect to claim all of it.

I was talking to a friend of mine last night and I told her that I'm not drawn to people that seem too good, too perfect. The people I'm drawn to, the friends I have, are good, but there's something else there. There's passion about something. I think passion is the number one thing missing in the life of the church today. I don't mean simply my church, but the Church as a whole. If the Church had the passion we should, if I had the passion I should, I think the world would be completely different. It would much more grace-filled.

So now to explain how the Hughes quote inspired all of this thinking. I guess it just struck me that sometimes God puts things in a person's life to get them to fall. Maybe not fall, but to understand their need of Him. Something the Eldredge's said in Captivating is that often the longings we have in our hearts were placed there by God, hoping that instead of filling them with "things", we'd turn to Him, understanding there is nothing better that could make us whole. And perhaps the only way of showing us this is to "tear the church down."

I guess I just find it sad how many believers settle for mediocre when they could have excellent. We let selfishness ruin us. I believe selfishness is the number one thing that destroys a church. Church is not about personal gain; it is about loving your brother (which I am not that good at), taking joy in another's worship, bearing the burdens life together as one, and being brutally honest when life doesn't make sense. I think sometimes that people try so hard to be good that they forget there's more to it. Without passion, goodness means next to nothing. Without true love, goodness is garbage. The church falls apart without passion. When the picture a person has of Jesus is one of Him on the cross, they are forgetting that He brought new life. The resurrection should inspire passion and craft passionate believers. Instead it seems that people always reflect on the sacrifice Christ made with a somber attitude and tone. And while the sacrifice was greater than I could ever imagine, the fact that He defeated death should be the focus. Without that fact, Christianity is a joke, made up of people who are not joyful, loving, or passionate.

As I try to be joyful, loving and passionate, I know that those three traits are enough to change the world. As Flannery O'Connor said, the life you save may be your own.

Oh my God, look around this place
Your fingers reach around the bone
You set the break and set the tone
Flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain
All fools say, "Oh my God"

Oh my God, why are we so afraid?
We make it worse when we don't bleed
There is no cure for our disease
Turn a phrase, and rise again
Or fake your death and only tell your closest friend
Oh my God

Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief
Weddings, boats and alibis
All drift away, and a mother cries

Liars and fools; sons and failures
Thieves will always say
Lost and found; ailing wanderers
Healers always say
Whores and angels; men with problems
Leavers always say
Broken hearted; separated
Orphans always say
War creators; racial haters
Preachers always say
Distant fathers; fallen warriors
Givers always say
Pilgrim saints; lonely widows
Users always say
Fearful mothers; watchful doubters
Saviors always say

Sometimes I cannot forgive
And these days, mercy cuts so deep
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep
While I lay, I dream we're better
Scales were gone and faces light
When we wake, we hate our brother
We still move to hurt each other
Sometimes I can close my eyes
And all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder
We all feel the need for wonder
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the thunder

Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven
All the times I thought to reach up
All the times I had to give
Babies underneath their beds
Hospitals that cannot treat all the wounds that money causes
All the comforts of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children - this is our inheritance
All the rage of watching mothers - this is our greatest offense

Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God

(lyrics by Jars of Clay, from their album Good Monsters)

The Answer to My Question

2006-09-22T20:58:00.000-07:00

This blog has been quite neglected lately, largely due to the fact that I've been journaling more in an actual journal, with paper and everything. Also, school has started back up for me, after a seemingly endless summer. I welcome fall with open arms, as it means cooler weather and the fact that I get to buy pens.

A few weeks ago, I was having dinner with a friend and she mentioned starting a Bible/book study for the girls in our church's youth group. She wanted to go through the book Captivating by John Eldredge and his wife Stasi. Three or four years ago, when I was still in youth group, our group of girls went through Wild at Heart, another one of Eldredge's books. Wild at Heart is a book for men about their wounds and their hearts. Captivating is the Wild at Heart for women, basically. Both books have a lot of great thoughts and contain some challenging insight. I read through Captivating a few months ago and was encouraged by it. As the planning for the Bible study progressed, I knew that if I was going to co-lead this thing, that my heart had to be on its way towards healing or else my impact on these girls would be little.

Captivating deals with the heart and soul of a woman. It addresses issues of beauty, friendship, romance, the desire to be seen as lovely, and how easily a woman's heart is broken and also how often it stays that way. The book makes the claim that all women are haunted by a question which is "Am I lovely? Am I worth something? Am I captivating?" This is certainly a question I have asked. The book also says that each woman has been wounded at some point in her life, that the answer to her question has been a loud and angry "no."

When I was involved in the Wild at Heart study a few years back, we talked about the idea of being wounded. For the first time, those few years ago, I saw my wound. I had been blind to it for quite some time, not quite understanding how much it had shaped the way I acted and the way I interacted with other people, especially men. When I picked up Captivating a few weeks ago to get my heart ready to lead this study, I thought my wound was almost healed, or was certainly on its way. But it was still very present. It had been years since my wound was received, and years since I acknowledged it and asked for healing. But there it was, still present, still aching, and still convincing me that I was not who I was meant to be.

While all the claims in Captivating may not be true for every single woman, so many of the ideas in the book were true for me. I took the book chapter by chapter, writing down my thoughts, prayers, Scriptures, etc. I have allowed myself to grieve, not just over my wound but for the fact that I have believed so many of the lies Satan has fed me.

Satan is an aspect of Christianity I don't consider much, to be honest. I'll talk about God freely with any person, but when I speak of Satan I almost feel silly. But I shouldn't. Evil is a real thing. Satan is evil incarnate, the opposite of God in His splendor. Captivating made a point I found interesting. Satan, once Lucipher, was at one point heaven's most beautiful and powerful angel. But it wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted to be God. Because Satan was once beauty, the Eldredge's pointed out that he attacks beauty anytime he can. He whispers lies in the ears of the Bride of Christ, attempting to convince her she is ugly, not worthy, too much or too little. And I believed these lies for so long about myself. I am still struggling to let go of some of them.

It is amazing the lies we believe about ourselves. For so long now, I have believed that I am anything but lovely. On some days I might consider myself cute, even fewer days pretty. But beautiful? Captivating? Never.

It wasn't just physical lies that I believed. I doubted each and every one of my friendships. I would analyze conversations to death, dwelling on any negative thing. I would take something completely mundane and turn it into this dramatic scenario inside my head. I was always the victim. I would never have a true friend. No one really loved me. No one would ever stay.

I believed that I was too dirty for God. I believed for so, so many years that I had to be clean before I prayed or worshipped, that I could not come flawed or with dirty hands. It was not until just this year, my 19th year of life, that I realized for the first time that God loves me. All of me. I have learned that I cannot earn His love, and I have learned that I cannot lose it. He chose me, and He delights in me.

God has started an amazing process of healing in my heart. I no longer believe that I am some ugly duckling that no man would ever choose to pursue. I believe that I was created in the image of God, the epitome of beauty.

I no longer believe that I am alone. I believe in my friendships, and I see how blessed I am to know the people I do.

I no longer believe that I am too much for God to handle, too unclean for Him to chase. God sees me, all of me. He knows my scars, yet loves me anyway. He always has. He always will. When a person truly understands that God loves him or her, they cannot help but be changed by that knowledge.

There are still days my heart is not completely whole. There are still days when I ache for romance with a man instead of romance with God. There are still days when I see myself as flawed and unpretty. But there are more days when I feel joyful, when I feel lovely, when I feel loved and pursued by a Lover no man could ever be.

I have been craving romance for so long now. I have believed that a man could fix me, that he could heal my wound. I have realized that I can't expect for another human being to ever fix me. I still crave romantic love, but it's not because I feel I need it. I simply want it, as most do. And now I am convinced that it will happen, when my heart is a bit more healed and when I am ready to accept it.

It feels good to rest in the knowledge of love and beauty, being so certain of both.

Song of the Moment: "All the Stars", eastmountainsouth

Pulling In

2006-09-03T20:58:00.000-07:00

I find it hard to love God. It’s very easy for me to like God, to look at God with great admiration, and sometimes it’s even easy to pray to God. But to love Him is different. It demands more. It demands all of me. I think people toss the word “love” around so often that it has perhaps lost a bit of its punch. I say I love my friends, but I also say I love Hello Kitty. And while I do greatly enjoy Hello Kitty, I would not lay down my life for her. I would not go out on a limb and defend Hello Kitty. I would not invest my life in Hello Kitty. I would not try to make Hello Kitty feel loved and special because Hello Kitty is a cartoon cat and not someone I can laugh with, talk to, or just sit quietly with while watching Mulder and Scully fight forces of evil. When talking about my friends and Hello Kitty, I use the same word but it means two very different things.

When I say I love God, I wonder how often I truly mean it in the most basic, Webster-defined sense of the word. I don’t think you can love someone until you truly know him or her, and I know that I do not know God very well. But then again, I’m not sure how well anyone knows God. I’m not sure how much He allows us to see. I’m not sure how much any of us could actually handle seeing.

I hate the thought of hurting someone that I love. I go out of my way to avoid it. And when I know I have hurt them anyway, a bit of my heart hurts too because I know I made a bit of theirs also ache. I hate the thought of disappointing my earthly father, but when it comes to God, I daily make choices that I know must make Him grieve. Sometimes I make these choices without really thinking things through, but other times, most times, I think, I make them fully aware of my actions. I voluntarily hurt the One who left heaven for me.

As I’ve thought this through, I’ve wondered what the difference is. Why is it that I can love mere mortals more than I can love the creator of the universe? And I think that it is because in order to love someone, you also have to let him or her love you. And I am not often very good at letting God simply love me. As I thought about this further, I began to believe that I am not the only one.

I was thinking about John Eldredge’s Wild at Heart in which he discusses what men and women often look like inside the church. He described many as tired, without passion, still, good but dull. I have to wonder if these people, too, have trouble with letting God love them. Within the community of church, there is such emphasis on doing, on serving. And serving is indeed important, but I think it often gets placed on a higher shelf than it really should. There is such importance placed on doing things for God that I wonder how often we forget that God sometimes just wants us to sit still and let Him wow us. Sometimes I think He wants us to simply delight in Him and His miracles. There is this constant struggle to prove to God our goodness, to prove that we are strong and worthy and brave and beautiful. It’s a worthless cause, and I know it, but I very rarely stop. Love is easier when you’re busy doing, but it gets personal when the doing stops and the stillness sets in.

I think it’s a lot like a car ride with someone you don’t know very well. When you’re riding with someone you don’t quite yet feel fully comfortable with, there is this need to fill in the silence. This is this pressure to chat and make small talk to fill in the gaps. But after you’ve known a person for a while, the silence is no longer awkward. There is talking, but it’s not forced. The silence is not weird or abnormal. It feels fine, feels normal and natural.

Anyone who has step foot in church even once hears about the importance of prayer. Even people who don’t believe find themselves praying when life gets at its worst point. But I wonder how often I, and others, pray because of obligation instead of passion. Instead of a natural dialog with the Almighty, prayer becomes like the chatter inside the car with a stranger. Because of this emphasis on giving and doing, I wonder how much I have missed because there is so little emphasis on taking and silence.

Love is not easy, and if it feels easy, then I doubt it’s really love at all. Love is rich and passionate and the best of all things, but it demands that we look past the way things seem and examine the way things really are. It demands that we give, but it also demands that we take the goodness being offered us. It is in the taking we learn how love feels and work, what love looks like. The giving must come after the taking, the acceptance of love.

I have no idea if any of this made any sense at all, but I felt wordy. And when I feel wordy, it seems wrong to just deny the wordiness. : )

Playing Dress-Up

2006-08-19T20:26:00.000-07:00

Ever since I was a little girl, I have dressed up for church on Sundays. I think the first time I ever wore pants was just a year or two ago. It was snowy outside, however, and pants and flats seemed like a more intelligent option than a skirt and heels. This felt so strange to me, wearing pants to church. The church I'm a part of is quite casual, so even though most people are always in pants, I felt so dressed-down.

For anyone raised in church, there is this idea that we must dress up for it. There is this idea that an effort must be made. We don't have to bring out our finest clothing, but most do dress up for a Sunday service more than they would during any day of the week.

I think that perhaps this idea of dressing up for church has gone beyond just clothes. I know for me it has. Not only have I felt the need to look my best on the outside everytime I step through the sanctuary doors, I have also felt the need to look my best on the inside. I have spent so much of my relationship with Christ feeling unworthy and dirty.

I felt both feelings strongly recently. In so many cases, my heart has grown so calloused to certain sins but recently I actually felt the weight of my wrongs. I felt gross. I felt undesirable. I felt as if anyone with any personal value would wash their hands of me. Usually when I feel like this, I make an attempt to fix the problem. I analyze it, I might even talk about it, or I write about it. A few days pass and suddenly I feel better. But this time, I went to Jesus and told Him that I was ugly and dirty and covered in shame. My prayer made little sense; it was really just mumbled words. But I believe that God would take a honest mumble over a grandiose speech any day.

I didn't immediately feel the relief of forgiveness or the freeing release that mercy brings with it. I woke up this morning still feeling restless, like even though I was forgiven, I was somehow not loved in the same way.

A couple of months ago, a dear friend of mine was talking with me and told me she had something she needed to talk to me about. I knew something was going on with her, but I didn't know what. She had seemed stressed and tired, very different from her usually sunny personality. She called me on a Thursday and we agreed to meet for ice cream later that night. I went to meet her and when I got there, I could see how nervous she was. It took her several tries and eventually she told me she was pregnant. Her wedding was in June and she told me this news in April. She felt ashamed that she had given in to temptation and confessed to me her fear that I might not be able to forgive her. I was surprised at her pregnancy, but I felt even more shock that this friend of mine ever thought for a second that I would stop loving her because of it. I told her there was nothing she could ever do to make me not love her, no crime too severe or sin too harsh. I meant that and hugged her, rubbing her belly and saying hello to her precious baby girl.

I was thinking about this the other day and suddenly it hit me: My love is shaky and human, trapped in bonds of mortality. Even still, there is nothing any of my friends could do that could kill that love. I might be disappointed in them or hurt because of their actions, but nothing would take my love away. So how foolish of me to presume that Christ, who is love incarnate, could ever stop loving me, His chosen bride, because of my sins.

When I sin and come to God, filthy and burdened, it is not a chance for Him to scold me and push me away; it is a chance for Him to pick me up, a chance for His glory and amazing redemption to shine through my stains and brokenness.

For so many years now, I have been trying to get clean before enterting the presence of God. I have been "dressing up" every Sunday, trying to make myself presentable before the Almighty. But I didn't realize that by doing this, I was only making myself more and more dirty. I am not able to cleanse myself because I live in a fallen world and I own fallen hands. But Jesus promises that those who come to Him might have life and have it to the full, that they will not know condemnation but His eternal love.

I went to Starbucks this morning and was sitting in a chair reading through some Scripture before I went to work. I wanted to read something showcasing the love of God so I turned to the book of Hosea, which contains one of the most beautiful portraits of love. Here is the section that struck me most in my reading:

"Therefore, behold, I will allure her, will bring her into the wilderness and speak comfort to her. I will give her her vineyards from there, and the Valley of Achor as a door of hope; she shall sing there, as in the days of her youth, as in the day when she came up from the land of Egypt. And it shall be, in that day,” Says the LORD, “ That you will call Me ‘My Husband,’ and no longer call Me ‘My Master.’"

I have always thought of God as Father rather than husband. Fathers love their children because they are simply their children. Fathers do not choose their children; they just are. But husbands choose their brides. Husbands puruse their brides. They romance them and woo them and invite them into a wonderful journey of love. A father's love often comes automatically, but love from a husband takes time.

Thinking of God as a husband makes me feel like I haven't in a long time. I feel beautiful and captivating to Him. I feel secure in His devotion to me. I feel free for the first time in so long. No longer must I come before Him bearing my penance. Instead, I must come as a wife might come to her beloved, confident in His love and in His acceptance, ready and willing to be vulnerable, to show Him all the hidden places so that He might come inside and heal them. I must come ready to take off the dress.

A Dozen Papercuts

2006-08-12T19:41:00.000-07:00

It's the quiet night that breaks me
I cannot stand the sight of this familiar place
It's the quiet night that breaks me
Like a dozen papercuts that only I can trace

I read a quote somewhere that said something like before anyone can be used by God, they must first be broken. It all sounds very nice and religious, but as I think about it more I find it somewhat strange. I wonder if, like a parent, it hurts God to break those He has chosen. I wonder if it's hard for Him to let a friend be lost, a love betrayed, a hope stepped upon. I wonder if it is any easier for Him because He sees the big picture, the finished tapestry instead of the chaotic threads. I wonder if He feels our loneliness while we're in the midst of it, if He feels the sting of our wounds.

All my books are lying useless now
All my maps will only show me how to lose my way

It's often strange where I turn when I feel I need answers. I will search everywhere before turning to God and simply asking for wisdom or direction or strength or faith. And that prayer is not some poignant, eloquent speech; instead, it is muttered and confusing and drips of weariness. You'd think I'd have learned a thing or two by now. As much as I hate it when people reduce the Gospel into a three-step plan for betterment, I want that. I want it to be easy. I want to followed the steps and have my life better and become more joyful, etc. But the Gospel is challenging and difficult and so full of wonder that my small, small mind can hardly ever take its truth in.

Oh, call my name
You know my name
And in that sound, everything will change
Tell me it won't always be this hard
I am nothing without you
But I don't know who you are

Last week in Sunday school, we talked about the difference between knowing and understanding. We all went around and shared the things we feel we know in our heads, but have a difficult time understanding or accepting. I shared that I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that God demands nothing from us. So often, I feel unworthy to come before Him. I attempt to clean myself up before I approach Him, not understanding that my attemepts to beautify myself only make me more dirty. I will never be worthy, yet I still fight for it. I do not understand a love that empties out like oil on the heads of rebellious children who are not only blind to that love, but who, when they do see it, spit all over it.

It's the crowded room that breaks me
Everybody looks so luminous, and strangely young
It's the crowded room that's never heard
No one here can say a word of my native tongue

I have a hard time around certain people, especially certain Christians. I don't respond to people who seem to have it altogether, who seem to live a struggle-free life of faith. I judge these people, and I shouldn't. But when I am around people like this, it's very hard to take them seriously. Anyone who is honestly pursuing a relationship with Christ, relationship being the key word there, will know doubt at some point. They will know what it feels like to be on your knees seemingly shouting at the heavens and feeling as if the God who is supposed to be listening is not. They will know what it feels like to wonder about the future, to wonder if He really does have a plan, and if He does, if it's something easy and good. They will know the struggle to get up again after failing one too many times, the struggle to be rid of selfishness. Anyone who makes the choice to love Jesus will know intense heartbreak and also intense joy, breathtaking highs and getting-the-wind-knocked-out-of-you-lows. With any genuine relationship comes these struggles, and those who seem not to have them are people I cannot seem to relate to. I always wonder if their Jesus looks like mine does.

I can't be among them anymore
I fold myself away before it burns me numb

I was talking to a good friend of mine a while ago, and she was having a problem with someone else. It's been so long I don't even remember who or what the problem was, but I remember telling her that she should just talk to the other person, that talking always helps. After I told her this, I just sat there for a moment and realized that I rarely take my own advice. I'm all for peace. I can't stand confrontation. I hate the idea of anyone, even people I don't especially feel close to, not approving of me. When I feel wronged by someone, or when I feel I have wronged someone, I fade into myself. This is especially true where Jesus is concerned. The other night I was tired and edgy and had the desire to pray, which is rare for me most days. But I didn't. I just laid there and instead fell asleep. It all went back to the worthiness thing. I knew I wasn't worthy to come before Jesus, so I didn't. Oh, how much I miss by doing this.

Oh, call my name
You know my name
And in your love, everything will change
Tell me it won't always be this hard
I am nothing without you
But I don't know who you are

I believe that. That in Your love everything will change. That I really am nothing unless Your presence fills me up. And it's true that I don't know You very well. But You do indeed know my name. And I've heard You whisper it on good daya and on bad ones. I have felt the pursuit of a Lover who is beyond what any mortal could ever be, the pursuit that I knew I was not deserving of. I suppose this is one of those muttered, confusing, and weary prayers, but in spite of that, help me understand what love is, what Your love is. Help it sink in that I owe you nothing, that I can never fix myself or make myself lovely. I am nothing without you, but so often try to be something that I miss the point of grace completely. To paraphrase Moulin Rouge, the greatest thing in life is knowing and giving love and to be loved in return. Help me with that second thing.

(Lyrics from Vienna Teng's song "Nothing Without You," found on Dreaming Through the Noise.)

A Good Man is Hard to Find

2006-08-02T13:38:00.000-07:00

So here's another entry yet again on romance. It's the one subject I just can't escape, try as I might. It's an ever-present longing, really. Sometimes I am able to quiet it, and sometimes it is loud and demanding, forcing my attention.

I want very much to be loved and to love someone in return. I want to get married someday, and I want to know my future husband for a few years before I place a ring on his finger. As I've pondered these ideas, I thought about why I've been craving romance so much lately. I've attributed the ever-raging desire to seeing romance develop in the lives of my friends. And that may have something to do with it, but I wanted romance long before they had it. I've considered that maybe it's just my age, that since I'm growing up I want a grown-up life and grown-up relationships. And perhaps my 19 years of life are leading me to want romance here and now, I don't think the number of my days is why I feel the need to be loved so badly. As I've been struggling with loneliness, I thought maybe that was why, that I wanted a boyfriend so I wouldn't feel lost in the shuffle anymore. I figured I wanted romance so that I would feel as if I were a part of something, that I was special to someone. And that's closer to the truth, but it doesn't cover every aspect.

I've been honest with myself lately, and took an honest look at my heart. Then I asked the question yet again: Why now, at this precise time in my life, has it been so important for me to find and know romantic love, to find that Mr. Right? I admitted that my search for my future groom has been so pressing lately because my heart has been hurting and overwhelmed and I simply want him to fix it, to fix me.

I've been wanting to meet this man so badly because I was holding out hope that he could mend the wounds I own, that he could make the sadness vanish, that he could fill me up and make me whole. It is very difficult to believe that you are captivating in a world where models size 6 and under grace magazine covers. It is very difficult to feel pretty when you forget that said models are airbrushed to look the way they do. It is very difficult to feel like you are worth anything without someone constantly telling you that you are. This is one of the reasons I've been craving a boyfriend so badly: So that he could reassure me that I am indeed captivating, that I am lovely and worth his glances.

My heart has been wounded. This happened long ago, but the wound still feels fresh and tender. I have attempted to give it to God many times, but I'm honestly not quite sure how. Because of that, I still hang on to it. When it breaks open and bleeds, my heart is overwhelmed and heavy. This is the second reason I sought a man: So that he could heal my wound and leave me without a scar.

I understand now that I can't expect another human being to fix me. I can't imagine this man meeting me and saying, "Okay, now that I've found you, I need you to make me whole here, and I need you to fix this problem, and I need you to make me feel strong here..." A relationship based on that sort of hope would never work out. It would be unfair for me to view a man as a sort of Mr. Fix-It.

I've always said that God won't send us our future mate unless we're content with only Him. I'm not sure if that's true or not, because I don't like placing limits on what God does and doesn't do, but I believe our contentedness with God will help a relationship. Unless we have our hearts secured in His hands, we will always be searching for fulfillment in a person that can't, hard as he or she might try, give it to us.

I've been reading through the book of Exodus lately, which is one of my favorites in all of Scripture. It is basically the story of God promising His people redemption and greatness, them expecting it to be easy, them getting tired and selfish when it isn't easy, and Him following through on His promise in spite of their idols and doubts. It stands as a reminder that God does have a plan, but knowing that plan, and especially following that plan, is not easy. I identify with Moses so much, that feeling of being so overwhelmed. Following Christ so often feels overwhelming because when I look at the big picture, I know I can never live up to expectations. But I must remember that God expects nothing of me. I must remember I don't have to be worthy to come to Him. There are so many basic truths I too often forget.

Something my father often says is that God won't reveal His plan for our lives until we are willing to follow it. If that's true, as I believe it is, it makes sense that God has not decided to bring my future spouse to me yet. I am not ready. I am not near ready. There is still so much work to be done on me, still so much life I need to experience on my own. There are still so many places inside me that I need to take to God and have Him heal before I can be the wife, or even the girlfriend, I know I want to be. Along with the healing of my wounds, I know I will also receive a lesson in patience.

And now, words to a Sufjan Stevens song that I feel is a fitting ending:

I'd swim across lake Michigan
I'd sell my shoes
I'd give my body to be back again
In the rest of the room

To be alone with you
To be alone with you
To be alone with you
To be alone with you

You gave your body to the lonely
They took your clothes
You gave up a wife and a family
You gave your ghost

To be alone with me
To be alone with me
To be alone with me
To be alone with me

To be alone with me
You went up on a tree

I've never met a man who loved me

Wasting What is Wasted

2006-07-19T19:10:00.000-07:00

Loneliness is a wretched beast of a thing. Perhaps that sounds a bit extreme, but I don't think so. I think it is perhaps one of the worst feelings in the world. It is one of the few feelings I can think of that makes every other feeling worse.

I feel it tonight. It's the only emotion I have ever experienced that causes an actual ache in my chest.

I've been wrestling with so much self-doubt lately. I feel unworthy and unprepared to be a "good" Christian. I feel as if I am an obligation instead of a joy to my friends. I feel like I'm not good enough or pretty enough to ever be a wife. I know these feelings are not from God; I know these doubts of mine are lies. But they feel so true.

The loneliness that plagues me tonight is probably my own fault. I have friends. I have family. I have people who care about me and I know it. I am shown love every day. But when I feel the doubts that I mentioned above, I tend to draw away from people. I over-analyze my relationships. I find the tiny flaws and blow them up into bigger ones.

My heart just feels heavy tonight. I am now out of words.

Song of the Moment: "Ruins," George is Jones

If You Love Me...

2006-07-02T19:55:00.000-07:00

I don't believe I am alone in admitting that oftentimes Christianity makes little sense. I think human beings want answers, want solid evidence, so that there is no need for faith. Faith demands trust and somewhere along the line, trust demands love. And love is such a difficult thing to grasp.

I often marvel at who God is, or at least who I believe God to be. I've been in church all of my life and have been a Christian since I was around the age of five. You'd think that since I have been in church most every Sunday since I was a week old I would understand God a bit more than I do, that going to church would help with that process. And it has, in some ways, but looking at the Church is often a poor representation of who Christ is.

The Church is a beautiful concept, created by God so that His people would have community, so that they would have a place that is made up of love and truth and worship. The purpose of the Church is to love one another, and for that love to leave the church building and percolate out into the world. How will the world be able to identify the followers of Christ? Through their love for one another.

As I was thinking about my own church and about the ones I have attended in the past, I saw many flaws. A Church is made up of people, and people are rarely good. Parents much teach their children to do good things. That means that our natural instinct is not goodness, but something else entirely, something Jesus came to this world to free us from.

In looking at my church and its own issues, I began to feel discouraged. It is very easy for me to see the flaws in other people. I knew that if certain people would change, the church would be better as a whole. If this person did that and if this person stopped doing that, we'd be on our way to holiness. And then I remembered the love thing. I remembered that Christianity is all about love. I remembered that commandments and traditions and offering plates and worship mean nothing unless there is love behind those things. And then I realized the faults in my church could be solved with love. If people loved more, they wouldn't argue. If people loved more, they wouldn't complain. If people loved more, they would be more like Jesus.

As I pondered those ideas of how love changes things, I realized I am not very good at loving people. I knew at that moment the problems I saw were my own fault. I had no right pointing out the lack of love in someone else when I myself had little love to offer.

There is nothing that screams of love more than Christ being born into a world that would hate Him, a world that despised what He treasured and tore apart what He knew as holy. The world He came to save killed Him, a plot which He knew before He ever stepped out of heaven. This is what I mean when I say Christianity makes little sense, at least to my small, fragile human mind. I do not understand the type of love that would sacrifice everything for people who don't want that love. I cannot comprehend the grace of God, how is covers those who have in no way earned it, who in no way ever could.

I have been blessed with love by family and friends, and most of all by God. I know love. I know what it looks like. I know what it feels like. I know how vital it is in the life of the Church, that the Church has no purpose without love. And still I struggle with ideas of love, with the consequences love brings. Every action bears consequence, but the consequences love brings with it demand the most, I think.

When a person loves, they are at their most vulnerable. Love demands an emptying of oneself to make room for the feelings of benevolence towards another. Love requires goodness, and as I said, humans are not automatically good. In order to love, we all must be loved ourselves. And to be loved, we must accept it.

I truly do believe that if the body of Christ really loved one another that the world would be changed. If the world saw the people of God loving the way they should, the way Christ did, the effects would be huge. If I loved people even 5% as much as God does, even that could change the world. If God, a Being who is perfect and holy, can love the fallen people of the world, the fallen people of my own church, then I have no excuse not to love them myself. I do not have to agree with their ideas or opinions, I do not have to always take their side, but I must love.

I think Derek Webb sums it up nicely:

I have come with one purpose
To capture for myself a bride
By my life she is lovely
By my death she's justified
I have always been her husband
Though many lovers she has known
So with water I will wash her
And by my word alone

So when you hear the sound of the water
You will know you're not alone

‘Cause I haven't come for only you
But for my people to pursue
You cannot care for me with no regard for her
If you love me you will love the church

I have long pursued her
As a harlot and a whore
But she will feast upon me
She will drink and thirst no more

So when you taste my flesh and my blood
You will know you're not alone

'Cause I haven't come for only you
But for my people to pursue
You cannot care for me with no regard for her
If you love me you will love the church

There is none that can replace her
Though there are many who will try
And though some may be her bridesmaids
They can never be my bride

'Cause I haven't come for only you
But for my people to pursue
You cannot care for me with no regard for her
If you love me you will love the church

If I love Him, I will love His people. That also means that if I hate His people, I will hate Him. The things I say about the Church I say about Him, all the selfish, ignorant things. The truth of such thoughts stings far more than I wish they would.

The Distance of Distance

2006-06-29T19:36:00.000-07:00

Friendship is perhaps one of the greatest things in life. I am currently flashing back to the time I spent in Kansas, those seven great years that seem so distant. I had four best friends. They were amazing, and still are. The group of us resembled something you might see in a movie--one for all and all for one. Or something like that. I was the only one out of five that was not a true Kansan, however. I was a city girl and always have been. I had a preference for dolls, especially Barbies. My friends would choose bikes or something involving dirt any day. Slumber parties was the sole focus of my childhood years. There was nothing cooler than a slumber party, except for maybe going to the high school sporting events, which were the heart and soul of my small town. The best nights were the ones that involved a game and then a slumber party.

At these sleepovers, we would watch movies, look through high school yearbooks awaiting our turn, and giggle and eat and giggle some more. We would spread out blankets on the floor and all sleep in one big row, the five of us dreaming together about God knows what.

I kept a paper journal when I was around ten or eleven. It is hysterical and humiliating to go back and read it now. The cover has peace signs all over it. I bought it at Claire's, every tween's favorite store, and I loved it. It's the only journal I've ever filled up completely. I wrote about my friends, mostly. I tried to sound older than I really was. I attempted to create drama where there was none. I wanted my life to resemble a Dawson's Creek episode and was always slightly disappointed when it did not.

It's been five years since I've lived in Kansas. It's been two since I've been back for a visit. I was supposed to go home this summer, to see friends and attend a wedding. But I decided not to go. I made a pro and con list and the cons won out. But the list isn't really important. It's the change in all of us that sealed the deal for me to stay home.

Of those four best friends, I am now only close with one of them. The one I am close with is extraordinary, giving my heart joy and not hating me for changing my mind at the last minute. She has been loyal to me for these past five years, proving her love and support. She is what keeps me believing that friendships can truly last and be something amazing.

She asked me tonight why I changed my mind. I sensed anger in her voice, but she told her that wasn't it. I still could not escape the feeling that I had somehow betrayed her trust, that I had hurt her. And I hate that. I know what it feels like to be hurt by someone you love and I hate the fact that I did that to her.

As I tried to explain my reasoning, I realized my choice all came down to the fact that Kansas is no longer home for me. This group of girls that I was once so close with are not really my friends any longer. Such truths are a fact that I have had a hard time accepting. As a kid at a sleepover, surrounded by my best friends, I did not believe we'd ever lose our way. I did not believe we would ever grow apart. Others, perhaps; but not us. Not our group. Even when I moved here we kept in touch for a time. But time seemed to fly by quicker and quicker, and the five lives that were once so much in unison were not any longer.

When I left Kansas the last time, I was able to leave knowing that I had a place there. Now, I am not so sure. I couldn't stand the thought of being there for ten days, days full of uncomfortable silence and forced conversations about work, school, etc. So much has happened to them in the past two years, things which I have missed entirely. So much has happened to me in just the last year that they haven't seen. I suppose my biggest fear is that they wouldn't care anyway.

I believe that regardless of one's schedule, you make time for the things and the people that are important to you. We have failed to make time for one another. Our importance to one another has all but been extinguished. This is normal for friendships like ours, but still sad, at least to me.

Lately, I have been longing for that sort of community again, that feeling of complete love and loyalty and pure, unfiltered joy. I miss that feeling of knowing you have a circle of people that surround you with love and protection. There is a cynical, adult voice in me that says those types of relationships are only in adolescence. I hope I am wrong.

My friend summed it up by saying that I would come to see her, but the thought of seeing everyone else is what scares me. And she is correct. I don't feel like I mean much, if anything, to them anymore. And I don't want to fake friendship for a week. And I don't want to ruin what once was, to completely shatter those memories and images.

There was once slumber parties and Sno-Cones and the Lancaster twins. There was once walks around the track, trips to the park, and visits to Sonic. I have good memories there. I didn't want to go back there and leave with bittersweet ones.

As I tried to explain all of this to my friend, it sounded like fluff, and perhaps that's what is sounds like now. But it all feels heavy and sad in this moment, when I just so happen to feel like Kansas could not be further away.

Seeing Red

2006-06-25T21:19:00.001-07:00

You say it's not too late to come running
Oh, I have ran but it's been the other way
And though it hurts more in the long run
It often hurts more just to stay
Faith breaks so easily when my heart has grown numb
When your glory becomes my routine
And doubt and tradition do not help love along
They act just as traitors, but unseen

Perhaps the reason you never hear me
Is because I never speak
You say your spirit knows each of my groans
When even I doubt what they mean
But I am too weary to groan anymore
To moan and to cry and feel guilt
Grace can heal, but it also must break
The impressive walls that I’ve built

You say that no one is ever out of reach
But I have reached, and just grabbed air
I have tried and tried, but have I really tried?
Or simply muttered these prayers?
Must a man get down on his knees
And sell everything that is his?
Is there mercy that is cheaper than blood?
That is somehow less costly than this?

And maybe the reason that you never seem to touch me
Is because I move away before you can
You say that my weakness can be made perfect
In the grandeur and strength of your hand
But I have turned your truth into clichés
So the power of your promises is void
Your love can save me, oh, I believe it can
But with love comes all self destroyed

My lips have praised and spoken love
I have raised hands in adoration
I have bowed beneath the image of your cross
Readily accepting your salvation
But my worship hasn’t gone to only you
Like a harlot, my lips have known others
Worship has often served as a distraction
As I crawled in bed with different lovers

Youdd think that whoring love away would make me sorry
Or make me feel like I am wrong
But guilt has a way of getting buried alive
The moment I think I am strong
And I have never been strong, but I pretend so well
It's easy to fake, but it's so hard to fight
When you've fallen in love with Love's enemy
And broken the cords of Love's plight

Though I often hate you, I desire to love
But through and through, deem myself unworthy
I try to cover up the scabs and the wounds
To myself less dirty
But there is a hope in me that just will not die
Though I have often attempted to kill it
I crave your arms around me, your kisses on my face
But, most of all, your forgiveness

I also posted this over at rhyming words, but it's what inspired all the following thoughts so it gets to see the light of day here, as well.

I really do believe that all I want is to know is that God forgives me for all the stupid, selfish, mindless things I've participated in during my almost-nineteen years of life. I know that Scripture said He does, that He, being of perfect love, “keeps no record of wrongs.” I know that salvation is not dependent upon one's worth, or else none of us would have it. I know that the moment I desired to accept the salvation of the Father that my sin, past and present, was erased. But even if God doesn’t remember, I do. He may punish me no longer, but I punish myself.

Yesterday I was on my lunch break at work and I had Blue Like Jazz thrown in my purse. I pulled it out and read through a chapter on grace, then got to the part that struck me most in the book the first time through it. Miller was saying that we will love God because He loved us, we will obey God because we love Him, but that we cannot love God unless we first accept His love. This is what I think my biggest problem is. It's not my lust or my selfishness or even my mountain of sin; it’s that I cannot, or rather will not, fully accept the love of God.

I can't get it through my head that God’s love is completely based on grace. It demands nothing of me, yet I get overwhelmed by what I can't give. It asks for no payment, yet I count my pennies, ashamed when I come up short, ashamed that I, so proud and strong, need charity. But grace is just grace. To quote the song, it is indeed quite amazing. And something that I have not yet gotten the hang of. I'm not sure why I can't just let God bury me in his love and acceptance. I'm not sure why it's such a struggle. I guess I'm not quite sure how to accept the love of God.

Perhaps so much of the hardships I encounter in my “faith” are because I so often ignore the Enemy. I believe that Satan is just as real as Jesus is, but I so often overlook the Enemy's voice. This morning in Sunday school, my teacher was talking about how often Satan whispers lies in our heads. I found tears welling up in my eyes as he talked about loneliness. When we feel that no one is there for us, that we will be alone forever, that we will never find anyone who will love us, that is simply the voice of Satan trying to doom the Bride of Christ. But I never see it that way. I see it as truth, truth which I grab such a hold of. I mourn and cry and pout and close myself off from those I love because I fear they won't love me back. I do this because I believed the lies Satan was pouring into my head.

I have written so much here in this journal about my battle with loneliness, about how that is something I hate, fear, and dread. But I am loved. I do have friends. And no one is perfect, so I cannot expect them to be so.

It is sad to me that I listen more eagerly to the voice of Satan than I do the voice of God. The Enemy tells me that I am unworthy, unpursued, unpretty, unwanted. (Yes, I just made up some “un” words.) The Enemy tells me that I will never have love, never have the life I have dreamed of, never have the husband that has often filled my wishes. The lies of Satan have convinced me that I am not smart enough, not captivating, not anything that any sane person would want to be a part of. And I have held those lies. I have wept over those lies. I have let those lies act as a cage, with me perfectly content inside.

I feel so much like Morgan Freeman's character Red in The Shawshank Redemption. He was a man who was serving a life sentence, but every ten years he got the chance to be pardoned. The movie spans several decades, so the audience sees Red go in for several parole hearings. He makes the same speech time after time, with no passion or belief in his words. He is not surprised to be denied parole again and again, and is even somewhat thankful to stay where he is. This I did not understand. I could not wrap my brain around the idea of someone wanting to stay in prison. But Red later explained:

"Believe what you want. These walls are funny. First you hate 'em,
then you get used to 'em. After long enough, you get so you depend on 'em. That's "institutionalized."

The same is true in life. After believing in something for so long, you just get used to. I have believed for so long that I am not good enough, that I never will be. Not just for God, but for anyone. I have come to accept this idea rather than to fight it.

I want to learn how to accept the love of God without feeling the need to reimburse him. I want to know what that feels like to leave the walls of lies and doubts behind me. They have held me for far too long, and I am tired of them.

I Have Never Prayed a Lot

2006-06-18T20:23:00.000-07:00

I am currently having a conversation via IM with one of my dearest friends. She is telling me how she feels restless, how she wants something new, how she is often sad and creates drama from nothing. And I am telling her that I am the exact same way right now. At this moment, the two of us seem to be emotional twins, with our feelings even beginning around the same timeframe. When life gives me lemons, I analyze them, as I shall do now.

Whenever I experience conflict in my life, I automatically assume that it has something to do with God. Not that I blame him; I dontt. But I assume that because of the conflict something between the two of us is not as it should be. It's not as it should be now, so I think that explains a lot.

As I mentioned in my last entry, for some time I was doing all the things I felt I should have been doing in order to grow closer to God. I read my Bible. I even took notes. I prayed. I tried to listen afterwards. I attended church regularly. I tried to change my attitude toward people. I did what I thought was right and holy. And I felt nothing. I felt no different. I felt no worship. I felt no deity looking down on me or blessing me. I just felt tired and frustrated. I wondered why. I wondered why God was hiding if I was doing everything right. Then I remembered the piece of Scripture that says if a person seeks with all his or her heart, they will find God. And I was seeking, I knew, so I could not justify why I wasn't experiencing something, anything.

Something sort of dawned on me last night, however. Yet again, I was reading Blue Like Jazz and something Donald Miller said struck me. He said something like Satan's main goal is to get believers to become so obsessed with the traditions and obligations of faith that they miss out on the Jesus the faith is all about. I believe that is my problem. I read my Bible because good Christians read their Bibles. I prayed because good Christians prayed. I went to church because good Christians go to church. I felt nothing because my actions were simply routine, autonomous.

Then I started reflecting on the people Jesus encountered during his lifetime on this Earth. The people that bothered Jesus most, the people that hurt him most, I think, were the Pharisees. These people tried so hard to be religious that they missed the point. Jesus embraced the lepers, the harlots, the thieves, and the outcasts, yet he had little patience for Pharisees. The people Jesus loved were people who came to him with nothing but a little faith. He was their only hope, their only option. All they wanted was to touch his robe and all the Pharisees wanted was to prove they were worthy to touch his robe.

I was thinking that my relationship with Jesus should mirror the relationship I have with my friends. If my friends set aside thirty minutes and a day to talk and hang out with me because they felt they had to, that time would mean little to me. In fact, it would hurt. I would not want to spend my time with people who did not truly want to spend time with me. I would not be thrilled to get a phone call from a friend who called out of obligation or because that friend needed a favor. In my relationships with friends, I want people to be my friend because they want to. I want people to talk to me because they love me or miss me. I want people to spend time with me because they enjoy my company. I believe God feels the same way in regards to me.

I'm not sure this is the exact reason God and I struggle so much. I don't know if my issues with God can be summed up in one explanation. But I believe this whole thing is certainly a factor.

The friend I was talking with said that she felt like she was missing something, like she didn't feel whole. I too know that feeling. It often feels as if you are standing at this window, watching the world go by. And everyone you see is smiling more than you are, is laughing and seemingly content. And you begin to wonder what's wrong with you, how you messed up. I think this is also another trap of the Enemy's. He gets us to focus so much on ourselves. He gets us to experience guilt for sins long forgiven. He gets us to hurt over things that have yet to happen. He gets us to doubt that God has a sovereign plan for the life of his Bride. He makes Christianity so self-centered, so basic and routine. He turns the great mystery of God into a three-step plan. He takes prayer and makes it about what we want instead of what we need. He causes the Church to gossip and fall apart, heart by heart. Selfishness is the key to all sin, and Satan knows this.

To conclude this mess of thoughts, here's a song by Sara Groves. It came on during my earlier conversation and I felt it fitting for the night.

I'm trying to work things out
I'm trying to comprehend
Am I the chance result
Of some great accident
I hear a rhythm call me
The echo of a grand design
I spend each night in the backyard
Staring up at the stars in the sky

I have another meeting today
With my new counselor
My mom will cry and say
I don't know what to do with her
She's so unresponsive
I just cannot break through
She spends all night in the backyard
Staring up at the stars and the moon

They have a chart and a graph
Of my despondency
They want to chart a path
For self-recovery
And want to know what I'm thinking
What motivates my mood
To spend all night in the backyard
Staring up at the stars and the moon

Maybe this was made for me
For lying on my back in the middle of a field
Maybe that's a selfish thought
Or maybe there's a loving God

Maybe I was made this way
To think and to reason and to question and to pray
And I have never prayed a lot
But maybe there's a loving God

Maybe this was made for me
For lying on my back in the middle of a field
Maybe that's a selfish thought
Or maybe there's a loving God
Maybe I was made this way
To think and to reason and to question and to pray
And I have never prayed a lot
But maybe there's a loving God

And that may be a foolish thought
Or maybe there is a God
And I have never prayed a lot
But maybe there's a loving God

A Comforting Declaration

2006-06-04T19:51:00.000-07:00

My mind is rather cluttered this evening. I am listening to Peter Bradley Adams, the male half of what once was eastmountainsouth. He soothes me, and I am grateful.

I feel as if I am one big ball of worry tonight. I'm stressed about a lot of things, some of which I know I shouldn't be. A good friend of mine is getting married on Saturday. This week is also the week before finals, which means that school is intense, time-consuming, and difficult. With finals approaching and my friend's impending wedding, I am worried I will not have time to get done everything I need to finish. I have a term paper to write, two essays for my history class, a group presentation, PowerPoint slides to organize, a bachelorette party to throw and pay for, a navy blue dress to pick up which I will only wear once, and somewhere in there I work and sleep. I wish I had a one of those punching bags boxers use; I feel it would be helpful in this moment.

I have a Word document open. I am supposed to be writing a research paper on Margaret Atwood. I have the title written, but that's it. It's due on Wednesday, but I need to get a draft done so I can edit it. Problem is, I have no idea what to say. I know that if I just start typing something will eventually surface but I felt like writing here instead of there. (I don't write here enough. Maybe more in summer. Summer...how blissful you will be.)

I am probably stressing far too much over these things. I will get them all done, and all in life will be fine yet again. But tonight I am anxious for these next two weeks to glide on by.

...............................................

Something happened to me recently. I had a realization of sorts. For a while now, there's been one particular thing that I've really struggled with where God was concerned. I felt this thing kept me from pursuing God with all my heart. I felt that this thing kept me from knowing God intimately, from following Him loyally. I just knew that if I overcame this thing, I would have the best relationship with God of anyone since Abraham. I saw myself as this all-mighty Christian, a prayer warrior extrordinaire, who could spew out Scripture like a garden hose spews out water.

Well, I overcame the hurdle I had been wrestling with. I defeated my demons. I stood tall and strong and courageous. And nothing happened. I read my Bible, I prayed more, I did the things I thought I was supposed to do. But nothing changed. I felt the same.

I have to wonder at God sometimes. It says in Scripture that when a person seeks Him with all their heart, they will find Him. I believe I was seeking with all my heart yet my heart still felt empty. I did not feel the hand of God; I did not hear a shout or a booming trumpet. I did not even hear a whisper. Was this my fault? Was I not seeking as I should have been? Was I failing still? Or was God simply holding back His presence?

I marvel at God. I marvel that there is a Being out there who defies what every human knows to be true. I marvel that this Being chose to make other beings so inferior to Him, beings so cruel and jealous and hateful. I am amazed that God, in all of His glory, chose to make an Adam and chose to make an Eve. He knew they would sin, that they would eventually break his heart. But He made them anyway. He formed them. And when they did sin, He covered them.

A thought recently came to me: When God chose me as His Bride, He knew how filthy I was. He knew about every lie, every selfish pursuit, every moment of vanity and lust...He knew me, all of me, past, present, and future. Yet He chose me anyway. He called me unto Him, claiming me as forever His.

I marvel that God chose me. I do not understand why. I am just a cowardly girl who worries over weddings and finals. I am unsure of where to go next, of what my next move should be. I dream big, often without consulting the One who allows me to dream at all. I want so much, and often include Him in so little. I stress and toss and turn over tiny, insignificant things. I often hate those He loves and slander those He upholds. I am not the Bride He deserves, and He is the Groom I would never be worthy to receive.

Yet I believe there is a great feast spread across the table. I believe there is life in store for me that is indeed great, though perhaps not what I have planned. I believe I will get through these next few weeks, these next few years, without drowning in life. I have to believe in these things or else I fear losing my belief in Him.

I do not understand God. But if I did, He would not be God. Though I often find it frustrating to not be let in on all the details, there is a small piece of comfort to know there is a God who is bigger than anything else, a God who, in His holiness and glory, saw me and declared me lovely.

What I Want

2006-05-22T10:39:00.000-07:00

I didn't fall asleep last night (or this morning, really) until 2. And I had a 7:30 class. I was up late finishing Donald Miller's Through Painted Deserts. It's a book about a cross-country road trip he once took with his friend Paul. As I was nearing the end, I got this lump in my throat and suddenly felt sad. I wasn't sure why, so I just kept reading. After a few more pages, I sat up with the book in hand and just started bawling. I'm really not that emotional, at least like that, so I was surprised by my feelings at first. I had just read about Miller's friend Paul beginning to fall in love with this girl named Danielle and I realized the reason for my tears: I want someone to fall in love with me.

I want someone to be captivated by my presence. I want someone to think of me when I'm not in the room. I want to know that I am pursued, that I am loved and cherished. I want someone to send me daisies or sunflowers just because. I want someone to smile at me with that look in their eyes that lets me know I am special to them. I want to be romanced. I want doors opened, chairs pulled out. I want to be held by someone when my day has been really crappy. I want to meet my husband, darn it.

My heart was heavy last night because of this longing. I cried and prayed for a while. I felt comforted by prayer. I felt pursued by God then. I heard Him whisper my loveliness, my beauty. I want to get married; I've desired that all of my life. Lately, I've been doubting if it will ever really happen. I've wondered what the chances were of me meeting this man I've dreamed up, this man who is, to me, perfect. I began to believe that I was destined for singlehood; I was trying to make myself okay with that. But God has provided every other longing I have had. God has provided a path for my feet to walk. I have no reason to doubt that He will one day, when I am ready, place someone in my life that I can love, someone who can love me in return.

Whenever I start thinking about romantic relationships, I eventually drift into thoughts of God. Last night I was inspired by something I read. Miller was talking about these huge wonders of nature, like oceans, mountains, canyons, and why people are so drawn to them. He asserted that perhaps people are so caught up in these things because they stand as a reminder that life is not all about us. For a moment, we are not the lead character. These monuments of nature show us that there is something grander than our lives, our stories. They show a glimpse of the beauty we were all meant to be.

I realized he was correct. I thought about how I felt when I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time. I was in awe. It was (and is) the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. I just stood there for God knows how long, barefoot, sinking into the sand with every crash of the waves. I marveled at how vast the water was. I was amazed at the way it made the air feel, so cool and damp. As I stood there on the shore, caught up by beauty, I realized how big the world is and how much bigger the God who created it must be.

Beauty is a concept that I feel is very spiritual, even though everyone at one time or another has made it vain and trivial. Every morning, myself and millions of other women stand in front of their bathroom mirror and put on make-up. We spritz on perfume, fix our hair, and paint our nails. We do this to make ourselves more beautiful. I began to think about the male side of things, specifically why men are so visual, why beautiful women are such a vice to them. I think that a man's desire to be with a beautiful woman is maybe so that he feels more beautiful by association. Beauty is often a feminine term, but men long for it just as much, just in different ways.

As I thought about my desire to be romanced, about my desire to be beautiful, I realized it all goes back to God. Before the Fall, beauty was everywhere. Adam and Eve were perfect, splendid creatures. But as soon as their mouths bit into that apple, sin corrupted everything. But that doesn't change the fact that once, a very long time ago, human beings were perfect. Adam and Eve were naked and felt no need to hide before they sinned, but as soon as they realized their error they covered themselves.

We all cover ourselves today, trying to make ourselves look better. We hide behind a thin waistline, a nice car, a successful career, or a large bank account. We wear certain clothes to impress and say certain things to feel as if we're important. So much of life is simply an act and for what purpose? To make us feel as if we are worth something.

I long to be truly beautiful because I should have been. Men long for the beauty because that's what they once had. But beauty is so fickle. Beauty is so often thought of as an outer thing. I would love to be thought of as physically beautiful by all who see me, but that shouldn't matter. As cheesy and cliche as this sounds, I want people to be captivated by the beauty of my heart. I want to be known as a passionate, courageous, intelligent woman, not just a pretty one. Appearance only gets you so far.

I am learning a lesson in patience, in who God really is, and who I am in comparison. I believe that God has created someone who will indeed be captivated by me. I believe such a man is out there somewhere, longing for me as much as I long for him. I am learning that God is the only beauty that will ever last, the only true thing life has to offer. I am learning more and more that the things I so often cling to are worthless and lousy, meant only to entertain. I am learning that my struggle to be beautiful is because beauty is what I was made for, what we all were made for. We all just want to be someone, to be loved, to be thought of. We are loved, but how often do we really notice it?

Song of the Moment: "Teresa," Peter Bradley Adams

Recent Revelations

2006-05-14T19:17:00.000-07:00

So it's been, what, thirteen years since I've written an entry here? I don't know whether I just haven't had much to say or if life has simply been busy. Perhaps my absence is a combination of both.

It feels as if a lot has happened since I was last here. Nothing physically, but internally and emotionally. I have discovered a good friend of mine is pregnant, that my relationship with another good friend is fickle and surface-level, and I have a pretty good idea of what college I want to eventually attend, a college which is not within fifteen minutes of my parents. (I was shocked, too.) Also, my attitude toward my church has changed immensely.

I looked at my church one day and realized I didn't like what it was becoming. It seemed as if we were all becoming so two-faced. Then I realized this was, in part, my fault. I was so judgmental, so harsh. I have always believed myself to be such an optimist, such a loving person. But I'm not. I don't love people very well. So I decided to work on that, to change my attitude and truly get to the point where I understand that church is not about me but about Him. I used to walk into Sunday school each week silently groaning about having to sit through another lesson that would teach me nothing. I was too smart, I had heard this stuff before. But since my spirit has changed, I've actually learned. Today some intelligent, challenging questions were asked. I have grown to really love and respect the teacher. All because of attitude.

I have also realized that a relationship I have with someone who often refers to me as her best friend is completely void and empty. I love her, but I feel as if I am only her friend when she has some spare time. I mean nothing in her life. I am not asked into her life. The not being asked hurts, even though I am trying to separate myself a bit from her. I am trying to not let it matter. But it does matter. It does sting. I almost cried before church started this morning because I found out, yet again, I was forgotten by her. Loving someone deeply as a friend and having them not return that love, especially after they've spoken it, hurts like mad. And I hate that it hurts. I hate that I give it meaning. But I am learning that when things hurt, I must simply grieve and let go. There is no point in holding on to things. There is no point in digging a hole for hurt because it will eventually find its way back to ground level.

I have not only realized these things in the past few days, but I have also began to feel like I really am growing up. Last year at this time I felt as if I were 12 having to making a few adult choices. It terrified me. Life terrified me. I was scared of leaving the safe and familar. But I was talking with a good friend, my best friend, a few weeks ago. I was telling her about my issues with the friend I am writing about and she told me that perhaps my realization is due to the fact that I am growing up and becoming aware that I do not need to be surrounded by friends, that I just need to know I have two or three great ones. And she is correct, I think. I am blessed. I know there are people who love me, who would die for me, people whom I love so much in return.

Love is something I have been pondering. Love is what Christians are supposed to be known for, but how many really are known for that instead of a reputation as a gossiper, a hypocrite, a fake? How often am I known as anything good or holy? So along with attitude I am trying to change my actions, to change my life. Being selfish and judgmental can only get you so far, especially when you think you're good.

I have been thinking I was good for a long time, and because of that I have missed out on a lot of grace. Perhaps realizing who I am in Christ, what I am worth in Him, is also part of growing up. Suddenly the big, important things I cling to seem so small and meaningless. And I am tired of small and meaningless things. Life is big, and though parts are scary, I want to live it. I don't want to sit out because of fear or broken relationships. Time is short, and I intend to run with it. Life is good.

Looking Foward

2006-04-30T21:42:00.000-07:00

It has recently occurred to me that I truly am growing up and getting older. True, I am still very much a kid, but I am a kid on her way to the great land known as adulthood. (That was cheesy, huh?)

Come this summer, I'll have three friends that are married, one with a baby girl, one who is expecting, most living on their own either with their respective spouse, away at school, or in their own apartment. Though this has been an ongoing process of growth, it has seemed to happen all at once.

I think the most shocking thing of all, besides all the wedding/pregnancy news, is that I have a college direction now. There's a school I'm really interested in and it's not in the city I currently live in. That means that I would leave my beloved mommy and daddy and move away. Shocking, huh? I thought so.

A couple of weeks ago, the idea of moving out and going five hours away wouldn't have been plausible. But now, it sounds really appealing. I am just longing for a bit more room. Not really freedom, because I have that now. But room to grow and breathe and try out life. That's something I'm not sure I've truly done yet: Really try something new and different where it's just me trying to live.

I'm excited about these changes. We'll see what happens...

(Sorry for the lack of actual thought in this entry. It's been a long day...)

Spare Change

2006-04-26T22:30:00.000-07:00

For a few weeks, my struggle with loneliness seemed to vanish for a bit. I'm not sure why; there was no real reason for it to disappear. But tonight it has returned with full force and my chest aches.

I simply long for community. I long for a group of people who I know love me, who I know are dependable, loyal people. I have lost so much faith in friendship this past year or so. Friendships all seem so fickle, so momentary. Out of my large group of friends/acquaintances, I count only two that I feel I will have a relationship with for a long, long time. I know this is probably normal, but it's difficult for me because those two people are about a thousand miles away. Here, I have friends but I know our relationships aren't strong.

For one, I am simply Plan B. When she has nothing better, she will hang out with me. If something better comes along and we have existing plans, she will choose the other thing. I don't think she realizes how much this hurts me, and I have never told her. Instead, I have simply learned not to expect anything from her. This has become its own new struggle.

Another friend I have here loves me muchly but she is getting married in 44 days. Our bonding time has almost ceased already and I know it will be mostly non-existent when she marries. I am sad about losing her, at least a part of her, even though we've had our struggles. She loves me and has always told me that. Even when I felt her love was too much, I always apreciated the knowledge it was there.

Tonight I attended my church's college group Bible study. I enjoy all the people that attend. We laugh together and they seem to enjoy me. Yet as I was walking to my car, this wave of loneliness just washed over me. I knew I didn't fit there, with them. I have struggled with this ever since I have attended. This is not their fault; honestly, I'm not sure why I feel so misplaced. But the feeling is there and it is strong and gritty, wearing me thin.

Tonight I am tired. I am tired of my mediocre friendships. I am tired of my mediocre self. I am tired of this city, of this day-to-day life. I am ready for something new. I am ready for change. I am ready for something other than this.

The Nearness of Life

2006-04-16T22:14:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I admit, God seems like a bit of a last resort. He's the being people turn to when their lives are falling apart. If they're close to death, whether it's personal death or the loss or near-loss of someone close, people who have never uttered a prayer are suddenly on their knees. When people who never step inside the doors of a church get hurt or have their heart broken, they pray for healing and wholeness. Millions of non-church goers were in church today, celebrating the Christian holiday essential to our faith.

I am sure many churches presented the gospel message, with the hope lives would be changed and given to Jesus Christ. I am sure many pastors asked people where they would go if they died tonight (why is it always “tonight?”), hoping to help them answer that question.

Sometimes it can seem like God is just something some turn to only to escape hell. Often times, that story has been mine. I wanted to spend eternity in heaven with God, but living for Him now? Letting Him pervade me and consume me in this world? That I wasn't willing to do.

As I think about Christ's resurrection, I think that eternity is a small part of the picture. Christ's mission here was not to only save His Bride from hell, but to save us now. He came so that we might know life today. Renewal does not begin with death. Communion with God does not begin once our lives here are done and over. The life Christ offers He offers today, now, this second, this moment. Redemption is within reach.

Sometimes, I admit, God is my last resort. I am willing to accept His salvation, but I hesitate to accept His wisdom and guidance, strength and courage. It is easy to ignore God sometimes.

As yet another Easter fades into memory, I hope to carry this lesson with me: that new life, redemption, begins anytime we choose to accept grace. New life does not come simply with our physical death; it comes whenever we choose to let Christ make us new.

I wish all who read these words a wonderful, redemption-filled Easter.

By His wounds we are healed.

Green vs. Blue

2006-04-13T18:58:00.000-07:00

Well, I ended up attending the lecture I wrote about in my previous entry. I had no idea what to expect, really, so I can't say that it did or didn't surprise me. The man that spoke is a well-known author and advocate for homosexuality (or so my teachers told me). He had a great sense of humor, so his lecture certainly wasn't dull. The theme of the lecture was Coming Out as an Ally. He didn't stand up there and preach that he was right and everyone else was wrong; he just talked about being there and supporting people in their choices. Obviously, I didn't agree with his topic of choice, but I did agree with his overall message.

I know I've said this a lot lately, but I really am in awe of who Jesus really is. I suppose I'm just shocked that He is so different that most portray Him, than I portray Him. Sometimes it seems as if non-Christians love better and easier than I do. The speaker I heard yesterday spoke about how important it was to love people regardless of your own opinions and beliefs. This is a lesson I've been going over and over in my head lately.

I am really bad when it comes to loving people. I'm a pretty quiet person when I'm around people I don't know very well. When I'm with a group of good friends, I'm just as loud and boisterous as they are, but those first few meetings with someone are usually awkward for me. I'm not good at just going up to someone and saying hello. It takes me a while to truly embrace another person. I am not as kind as I know I should be or as encouraging as I'd like to be. I don't love instantly; it takes time. But it seems to me that Jesus did love instantly. He didn't care about a person's background or past mistakes. He cared, but He didn't dwell on those things or condemn people for them. He just loved, earnestly, passionately, and faithfully.

It is shameful that so many unbelievers are more accepting and loving than I, a person who claims faith in Christ, am. I have been baptized in the greatest love the world has ever and will ever know yet I have to wonder how often I truly show proof of such a claim.

My church is in the process of constructing a new building. Before this, I had no idea paint and carpet colors mattered so much. (Green, apparently, is better than blue.) My church is not in the best condition it's ever known. There is a lot of fighting and discord over simple things like sprinkler systems and trim. There have been arguments about seating and pipes. Paint, carpet, sprinklers, trim, seating, and pipes: this is what it seems my church has become. Not only that, but people complain and argue about everything else imaginable, too. It is for these reasons I feel Jesus would be mostly unwelcome in my church. Not by everyone, but certainly by a few. Maybe not unwelcome, but unseen. The question I have been asking myself lately is if I would see and welcome Him.

Sometimes it seems like churches have just lost the point. Some are consumed with tradition, never changing a thing, never growing, because they don't feel the need to. Some churches are obsessed with the latest technology, more concerned with their PowerPoint presentations than with the Gospel. Some are all about numbers, some are all about appearances, some are all about money, and some are all about obligation.

I believe the problem is not with churches, but with every individual member that makes up that particular body. I was thinking the other day how much my church needed to change, how much was going wrong, how much needed fixing...and then I remembered that I really have no right to say a thing. It's me that needs to love more, it's me that needs to stand up for those being accused, it's me who needs to start a change by first improving my own heart. Nothing in my church will ever be mended unless I confront my own demons.

I mention the problems with my church to show what little difference there is sometimes between Christians and those who don't believe. Scripture says the world will know of our faith through our love, but what happens when there isn't love anymore?

As I sat listening to the lecture yesterday, I thought about the people I was around. I thought about the message of the speaker. I thought about how selfish I was sometimes, how harsh and judgmental. I thought about how there was a very good chance that the room I was in contained more love than the sanctuary of my church sometimes. It was shameful, to be quite honest.

I don't want to be a person who always misses the point. I don't want to be the Christian that doesn't really know the real Jesus. I don't want to bicker with a fellow believer in Christ about how a building looks. When we start caring more about the look of our church than the soul of it, we have missed out on so much.

I have no idea if any of this at all tied together, but there it is...

Oil and Water

2006-04-11T12:49:00.000-07:00

In my English lit class this morning, my teacher told us we weren't having class tomorrow. Instead, she told us to meet up at our normal class time to attend a lecture on gay pride and coming out. I've been thinking most of the day about the lecture and my discomfort with its topic.

As a Christian, I believe what the Bible has to say about homosexuality. I do not believe God created His people with homosexual tendecies. He created men and women for a very specific purpose, each one complementing the other. However, I do believe that homosexual urges are very real, very difficult things, especially for those in the Church who struggle silently, afraid to admit it. (My heart breaks for those people. I cannot fathom such a battle.)

I've been thinking about whether or not to attend the lecture tomorrow. I won't lose points for it if I don't go (and the points thing really shouldn't influence me anyway). I am just unsure about so much where homosexuality is concerned.

Those who support the homosexual lifestyle preach love and tolerance, yet when someone who opposes their view makes that known they are called a bigot and hateful. Those who oppose the homosexual lifestyle often take it too far, storing such rampant hate in their hearts, sometimes acting on it through violence or slurs. It so often seems the world gives us two sides: either accept homosexuality completely, or hate those that do. As someone who claims Jesus Christ, I believe there should be some sort of middle ground.

It makes me sick to hear a fellow Christian say something cruel and hurtful about a gay person, yet when I hear someone claiming Christ who sees nothing wrong with homosexual choices, that doesn't settle well, either.

In my past couple of entries, I've been talking about who Jesus is to me and the type of man and deity I believe He was. I believe Jesus was a personal, loving man. He embraced those the Church did not. He did not accept their sin, but He did accept them. In church, I so often hear "love the sinner, hate the sin." Yet I've also heard Christians respond with an "ew" or a "gross" when a gay person is mentioned. Is it really the sin we're hating all the time?

Sometimes it seems the Church expects people to clean themselves up before they're "presentable." Sometimes I expect people to get clean before I allow myself to love them. But God loves us in all our despair and rags. He lifted us from that place. I believe that all sin is of equal weight, that a "small" lie is equal to murder. Most Christians share this belief, yet homosexuality is the sin of choice the Church has undertaken to cure, so to speak. We throw rallies, we boycot, we march, we preach, and we advertise, all to make it known that we as Christians are against homosexuality. But what good does any of that really do?

I remember a few years back when Christians were boycotting the Walt Disney company because they apparently embraced gays too much. I believe such a thing is not only a complete waste of time and energy, but I also think it's shameful. I can't picture Jesus holding a sign and marching around proclaiming His hatred for any particular thing or lifestyle. Maybe some people can, but I just don't see it. Instead, I see Jesus forming relationships, realationships that would have made the religious leaders uncomfortable. If the Jesus I believe I know walked in the doors of my church, I think many people would be uncomfortable with who He is. Like C. S. Lewis once said, He isn't safe but He is good.

I am far often too safe. Sometimes I try to stay inside this tiny Christian bubble and am afraid that those who are "unclean" will pop it, ruining me and making me dirty in the process. But Jesus was never afraid of a little dirt. He kneeled down and drew in the dirt, defending a woman caught in bed with a man who wasn't her husband. He loved her, and then He told her to go and sin no more. He did not tell her to stop sinning before she knew of his acceptance.

When we love someone, we want them to be the best person they can be. I love my friends just the way they are, but I want them to grow and to change because I know that's how life gets better, that that is how people learn. I've been thinking about what might happen if an openly-gay person walked through the doors of my church and sat down. There would be stares and whispers. There would be hallway conversations and sideways glances. There would be a meeting where it was debated whether or not such a person should be able to attend. It seems that far too often, me included, we say 'go and sin no more' before we offer up a defense, before we tell the world to drop their stones, before we realize we too are too guilty to throw them ourselves.

By not going to the lecture tomorrow, I fear sending the signal that, as a Christian, I am just like all the others who refuse to even look at a gay person as a genuine human being instead of some backwards sinner. By going, there is an oppurtunity for conversation, for thoughts to flow back and forth. I mess up in my faith all the time. I sin daily. I sin several times a day, actually. Somtimes I don't even realize it but most of the time I do. Yet I do it anyway. In spite of this, I cannot stand the thought of sending to the world, or at least my English lit class, the wrong picture of who Jesus was. Jesus never turned away. Instead, He embraced and loved and healed. I can't do the healing, but I can love with the love I know, with the love that covered me when I was unworthy. Through that love, Jesus can heal. Before anyone can 'go and sin no more,' we must first be healed. After all...

"...Jesus said to them, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

Mark 2:17

Off Target

2006-04-09T20:52:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about Jesus and whether or not the Jesus I feel I know matches up with the Jesus I see in my church and in the churches I've been a part of in the past. I have come to the conclusion that the Jesus I know really doesn't fit in that well at all.

I've been thinking a lot about evangelism. I've realized how often I think Christians tend to get this one wrong. I'm sure some people's eyes have been opened by a Gospel tract. I'm sure our cheesy salvation bead bracelets have made certain people think. But overall, I have this suspicion the world is rolling their eyes behind our backs. If I think some of our methods of reaching people are missing the mark, what do non-believers think?

I see all these cliched church signs and I laugh at them. I see salvation presented in a three step, ABC format and think that the greatest romance the world has ever known has been simplified way too much. I see Christian bookstores and cannot help thinking that Jesus, if He went inside, would have very much the same reaction as He did in the temple when His anger was shown by the turning over of tables. We Christians have taken Jesus and put his name on mints and keychains.

Maybe I am far off with these beliefs and I can understand why some might think I am. I don't think the things I've mentioned are all wrong, horrible things. But I do think they miss the mark. I do think they simplify things a bit too much. I do think that far too often, we have turned Jesus into a product.

Sometimes I feel like I am watching an infomercial for Jesus. "Accept Him in the next five minutes and you'll get eternal life! Pray now and we'll throw in two free answers to prayer!" That might be an unfair statement but that's how I see it a lot of the time.

I guess I just get frustrated that the Jesus I feel I know rarely matches up with the Jesus my fellow Christians claim. Going back to the evangelism thing, how often do Christians make friends with unbelievers simply to "save" them? What happened to loving a person just to love them? I believe the best way to share the message of the Gospel is through relationships. God is a relational God and handing a person a tract or asking them where they'd go if they died just doesn't cut it to me.

God is this wild, huge, uncontrollable God and so often He is presented as a cure-all. Christianity is this beautiful, poetic faith yet it is so often full of five-step plans and easy answers. There is nothing wrong with easy, but if easy is how we want God we will miss so much. God is not easy. The Gospel is often offensive. Salvation is the climax of anyone's existence. Oh, how often I fail to see God for who He is.

Today in Sunday school, we were asked where Jesus is. Many responded with "in my heart." What in the world does that even mean? We're college students and "in my heart" is something I would hear in my mother's preschool class. Then we got asked if we have taken Jesus places He shouldn't go, listened to things He shouldn't hear, see things He shouldn't see, etc. But Jesus hung out with the worst of society. He called fishermen to be His followers. Even more, He called them to be his friends. Jesus spoke to prostitutes with more patience than He spoke to religious leaders. He sought these people out. He healed on the Sabbath, offending the leaders of the church. He made company with tax collectors and lepers. Have I taken Jesus where He shouldn't go? Or have I neglected to go where Jesus wants to take me out of fear or a better-than-them mindset? Somehow I think it's the second option.

I suppose this rant of mine is simply due to the fact that I see Jesus so differently now than I have most of my life. I am tired of cheap faith that demands no thought, just Sunday school answers. I am tired of evangelism that is more about numbers than love. I am tired of worship that is only half-hearted obligation. I am tired of church being a social gathering to complain and whine. I am tired of myself and how I often misrepresent who Jesus is, what the heart of the Gospel looks like.

But before I can blame the Church, I must first fix myself. I am the problem. I am what needs correction. I believe Jesus can do it, if I let Him. I am just beginning to understand where I have gone wrong for so long. I am just beginning to see the God of the universe as just that: big, gigantic, and huge yet small enough to see me, to love me, to like me.

Song of the Moment: "Awake My Soul," Derek Webb

Dressing It Down

2006-04-01T23:17:00.000-08:00

Dress down your pretty faith
Give me something real
Leave out the "thee" and "thou"
And speak to me now
Speak to my pain and confusion
Speak through my fears and my pride
Speak to the part of me that knows I'm something
Deep down inside

Perhaps my seemingly relentless struggles with God, religion, and faith are because none of those things are real to me. I simply act the part of a Christian so much of the time. I have taken faith, beautiful, raw, life-affirming faith, and have turned it into motions instead of meaning.

I've been in church since I was a week old. I know the words to hymns and praise choruses, the names of all the deacons, the correct Sunday school answers, and a lot of the Bible. Yet all of these things are pretty much meaningless to me. They were accomplished out of obligation, learned through simple routine.

I know that I'm not perfect
But compare me to most
In a world of hurt, in a world of anger
I think I'm holding my own
And I know that you've said there is more to life
No, I am not satisfied
But there are mornings I wake up
And I'm just thankful to be alive

I have had little choice regarding church these past eighteen years. I sometimes thnk about what I would believe in, if anything, had I not been raised to be a Christian. I wonder what god I would subscribe to, what doctrine would capture my attention. But I have this sneaking suspicion that I would believe in nothing and no one. I can never know for sure, but I suspect I would have brushed religion away completely. I am not sure what that means.

I've known now for quite a while
That I am not whole
I've remembered the body and the mind
But disected the soul
Now something inside is awakening
Like a dream I once had but forgot
And it's something I'm scared of
But something I don't want to stop

In English lit last quarter, we read a short story by Langston Hughes called "On the Road." In it, Hughes wrote, "Sometimes you have to tear the church down to get Jesus off the cross." As I read that the first time, it struck a chord in me. As I reflect on it now, I see how relevant of a statement it is in my own life.

To me, in a lot of ways, Jesus is still on the cross. I was a sinner, Jesus came and died for me--that is the heart of the Gospel. But I have ignored the risen Jesus, the one who left the tomb empty and cold. His resurrection made salavation possible yet I ignore it or forget about it so much of the time. Maybe, like Hughes said, you sometimes have to tear down what you think you know in order to meet and come face to face with the real, alive Jesus.

I woke up this morning and realized
Jesus is not a portrait
Or stained glass windows
Or hymns
Or all the tradition that surrounds us
And I thought it would be hard to believe in
But it's not hard at all
To believe I've sinned
And fallen short
Of the glory of God

I say that when I was tweleve years old I took real ownership of my faith, but did I really? I fear that "my" faith is still so often void of any personal significance. But even though so much of my spiritual life is just routine religion, I cannot shake the feeling that there is a God that's big and mighty and wondrous, a God who is real, with feelings and love. I feel that in the midst of this religious insanity that grace is ever-present, willing to capture even the dirtiest, willing to capture even me. When I am my most distant and hardened, I still feel pursued by God. I still hear the echo of His message, and I cannot escape its meaning.

He's not asking me to change in my joy for martyrdom
He's asking to take my place
To stand in the gap that I have formed
With his real, amazing grace
And it's not just a sign or a sacrament
It's not just a metaphor for love
The blood is real and it's not just a symbol of our faith

I'm not sure what I need to do in order to capture and grasp the depth of the Gospel message and not just the religious ideals and standards. I think I have made Christianity all about right vs. wrong. I look at all these things I'm not supposed to do, sin, and I get overwhelmed, knowing I will never be able to keep all the "rules". Then I look at all the things I'm supposed to do and I get bored and flooded with thoughts of Christian t-shirts, keychains, and CDs. It's sad that I have taken the world's greatest romance and turned it into a list.

When I think about Christianity, I think about Christians, and when I think of Christstians I think of all sorts of different people I will never be able to live up to. But maybe I don't have to. Maybe God doesn't want me to follow His list of right and wrong and that's it. (That can't be it.) Maybe God simply wants me. I hope that my attempts and honesty might be enough.

I also hope to simply have the courage to try to meet God somewhere, anywhere. I hope to fall in love. I hope to escape the confinement of playing church and religion and be released into the very real arms of a man who loves me and crowns me as the glory of all his creation. I hope that my Jesus is not still nailed to the cross, but is alive and walking and running towards me, inviting me on the greatest adventure my heart will ever know.

The blood is real and it's not just a symbol of our faith

(Lyrics by Sara Groves, from her song "Awakening")

The Fairest of Them All

2006-03-29T21:53:00.000-08:00

I went to my college group Bible study tonight for the first time in about a month. It was a good time of fellowship and encouragement. Tonight a pal of mine started talking about this longing she has to be captivating. She spent time with God and felt captivating in His presence, but as soon as she was out of it that feeling left her. I identified completely. As I was reading through John and Stasi Eldredge's Captivating, my heart was torn wide open with truth. The authors made the point of saying that every woman who was a child of God was and is captivating. I liked the idea, but I didn't really felt it applied to me.

My problem is how I view beauty. When I think of a beautiful girl, I think of someone tall, tan, thin, and well-dressed. I think of what's on the outside. I'll flip through fashion magazines and envy the legs and stomachs and arms I see. Those on the cover of Vogue are beautiful, I think. And in order to be captivating you must be beautiful. And I don't feel beautiful very often.

It seems society deems any girl over a size 6 as fat, any girl who values purity prudish, and any girl who shows a bit of self-respect as dull. It's hard to feel like you're worth anything in this world when you know you will never match up to what the world calls beautiful, what the world considers lovely.

I will never be beautiful by the world's standards. The world will never find me captivating because their god is not mine. Though I am in this world, and though I struggle so much, I do not belong to this world. I belong to the One who created me, who thinks I am the most captivating of all His creatures.

Yet it is hard to remember that fact when you feel as if you do not measure up to the commonly held view of beauty. I was watching TV a while back and I saw a girl who struck me as beautiful and I thought how unfair it was that some people were just born this way while others were not. And then I realized what being beautiful in the world's eyes can bring with it. Guys crave your body, not your heart. People crave your friendship because of your popularity, not because of who you really are. Perhaps physical beauty is not all that magazines and Hollywood make it out to be.

In a strange way, it feels good to know that this world will never see me the way I wish to be seen sometimes. It's a comfort to know that it's not me, that it's not my lack of appeal. The world values the ones who are lovely on the outside but God values the ones who have beautiful hearts. It is a beautiful heart that, to me, makes a person captivating. I do wish to captivate, and far too often I wish for the eyes of those around me to notice and praise me. But even if they did, I would never find my solace in their applause. I've heard it before and it did not sustain me. I need to restore my vision on true beauty, on the One who saw me covered in sin and dirt and declared me worthy enough to be his Bride.

I am so, so far away from Him now. I have so many steps to take, so many choices to make, so many vows to restate. But I want to try. That longing in and of itself is huge for me right now. I am grateful for it.

Backseat Prayers

2006-03-28T14:14:00.000-08:00

I've gone to church since I was a week old. There have been very few Sundays I have missed. I have the epitome of a good attendence record. Ever since I can remember, I have been told that Jesus loves me. And I believed it, because I was told it, and because it's the truth. I remember sitting in Sunday school week after week, singing songs and saying Bible verses. Sometimes there were stickers and snacks, both of which were always exciting. I remember vividly the time I asked Jesus into my heart (that phrasing always seems strange to me, for some reason). I said a silent prayer to God in the backseat of a car. My family was on our way home from somewhere I no longer remember. I am guessing my age to have been about 4 or 5, but I'm not sure. I have no idea what the date was or any other details like that. But I remember the prayer. It was just a simple, child-like, "Jesus, come into my heart." That was it; there was no confession, no tears, no fancy words. It was just the plea of a little girl who understood little to nothing of God but knew that she wanted Him to love her, to save her, to come in. And He did come in, I am certain.

Fast forward a few years later to 1999. It was two days after Christmas and I was at a youth conference with my church group. The theme of the whole event was taken from the book of Esther, "for such a time as this." I remember nothing of what the speaker said, but I remember my reaction. I remember sitting in my chair and feeling that it was time to make my faith mine. I knew I was saved, and I didn't really doubt that. But I had wandered, at least as far as a twelve-year-old can. I knew I needed grace so I asked for it. I claimed my faith then. It was no longer anyone else's but my own. I made the choice to pick up my cross.

Three years later, I laid in bed one night attempting sleep and wondered for the first time in my entire life if God was really there or whether or not He was just something humans invented for whatever reason. I had such bitter doubt for months. Eventually, the doubt ended and again I was sure of God and who He was, though I don't remember what exactly, if anything, changed my heart. But it did change and I came out stronger, with more assurance than ever before.

During my high school years, my relationship with God went back and forth. Somedays it was strong, but more often than not I didn't try. I just lived and on the days I felt passion towards God, I would show it. But those days were not that frequent so my faithfulness wasn't, either.

I always thought the older you were, the easier God was to grasp, the simpler faith was, the gentler redemption felt. But I know that isn't true, though in many ways it would be nice. Through my life, I have been in many stages where God is concerned but the one I crave going back to is that one in the car, in the backseat, not understanding but not caring. I didn't know what grace or mercy meant, I didn't know what the cross represented, I didn't understand heaven and hell and life and death, sin and the wages of failure and selfishness. I just prayed. I just asked. And He came and consumed me, lifted me up and held me.

Now, today, I find myself turning to other things to find happiness and fulfilment. As Derek Webb put it, "lovers so less wild." God sits on a shelf and when I feel the need, I pull Him down. Actually, no, that isn't true. I feel the need a lot but I leave Him up there. I am not sure what keeps me from clinging to Him with all I have. I know in my head that would be best, that He loves me enough to hold me forever. But I stay still, punishing myself for what all has been lost, what all has been damaged and broken.

But God is the God of the damaged and broken. In the Gospels, the people he spent time with were the ones the Church despised: tax collectors, prostitues, fisherman, sick, crippled, etc. Those were the people He loved, the people He called.

When I prayed that first prayer of salvation to God, I thought nothing of sin, really. I just saw love. I knew He loved me and I knew He wanted me and I knew I wanted Him. It was that simple. And I know that He is a big enough God to look past my sins now, to erase them and forever forget their sting. But I am the one who punishes, the one who grieves for them. Yet I do not change because, in a sense, they do fulfill me. They do not break my heart as they should.

I have not opened my Bible in a very, very long time. I don't remember the last time I have prayed. Worship has been absent for even longer. Yet I feel God. I hear His whispers. I see His signs, I know His steps, and I feel His pursuit. And it is in these moments when I am my most curious about who this being is that loves me as much as He does. I wonder if He really sees me, if He really knows what I've done. I know He does, but I also know He's ready to forget it all. I want to love Him like I did as a child, no questions, no answers needed. I just want love, to be loved, to show love, to give love.

I just finished readying Wally Lamb's She's Come Undone. With each turn of the page, I was hoping to see some sort of hope. The protagonist of the novel, Delores Price, went through hell. She lost everything and saw so little good. As I finished the book, I thought back over it and knew that if this imaginary heroine would have turned to Grace, that things would have been different. Her story's circumstances might not have changed, but her hope would have. And then I realized the same is true for me. Grace is there, willing and waiting. And I am the one who keeps it waiting.

I feel drawn to it, though. I want it. I want healing. I want redemption.

I want to again be that girl in the backseat, knowing nothing of God except that He loves and loves and loves. That was enough for me once; may it be again.

Song of the Moment: "In the Deep", Bird York

Quiet Voices

2006-03-19T23:15:00.000-08:00

I think the college years of a person's life are perhaps some of the most confusing and often terrifying. At least it feels that way to me. I have a little over a year left at the small community college I attend. After that, I know I want to attend a university but I don't know where. Also, I have no idea what I'd major in.

I love English and the world of literature, but I don't want to be a writer. I enjoy it, but I don't think I could build my life around it. I enjoy interior design and am actually pretty good at it, but I don't want to do that day in and day out. I love writing poetry but I only churn out something worthwhile every three or so months and that's not exactly enough to live on.

When people ask me what I want to do with my life, I tell them I don't know. That's a lie, however, because I do know. But I don't tell people because if I think its partially silly and far-fetched, I know they will too. What I want is to make music, to make good music. I want to sit down at a piano and play something of my own for an audience, even if the crowd is just one person. I crave that moment, yet the thought also scares me. I am not brave enough to do it, I think.

I have wanted this since I was 13. I have felt called to this since I was 13. But I question all the time if the calling really was a calling. Comprehending the voice of God is so hard for me sometimes. Not only do I question the calling, I question everything else, too.

I tell myself I'm not good enough to do anything worthwhile.

I tell myself this dream will never play out and to get a back-up plan ready.

I tell myself that this whole longing is silly and childish and just something I have not yet let go of.

I tell myself I'll never make it, that I'll never be anything.

Yet I still long for that stage, that audience and that piano. I long to someday write music as well as some of my own personal songwriting heroes. I long to stand in a recording studio and hear musicians playing my music. I long.

I fear the future. I fear living on my own, with my friends gone and married, single with an appreciation for PBS and frozen food. I fear working a job just for the money and not for the passion. I fear a worthless existence, my life meaning and impacting nothing and no one.

And through of all this fear, I still long. Is it stupid and ignorant of me to think the desires of a person's heart mean something? Am I a fool for believing that work should be more than a paycheck?

I think my biggest fear is having the life I mentioned up above and being okay with it. Well, not okay with it but too tired and dead to bother fixing it. I am afraid of eventually losing all the passion and hope I still have. I have lost enough as it is.

I keep telling myself that if it really was the voice of God I heard back when I was thirteen that He will qualify me to make it, that He will provide a way for me to be who I want to be.

My heart aches tonight because it is so full of questions and dreams and hope and the lack thereof. It is overflowing with longing and I don't know what to do about it. I don't want to look back when all is said and done and have nothing to call myself but a coward.

Beneath the Floorboards

2006-03-17T12:52:00.000-08:00

His father was a drinker and his mother cried in bed
Folding John Wayne's t-shirts when the swingset hit his head
The neighbors they adored him
For his humor and his conversation
Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things, rotting fast, in their sleep
Oh the dead, 27 people
Even more, they were boys, with their cars, summer jobs
Oh my God...

Are you one of them?
He dressed up like a clown for them
With his face paint white and red
And on his best behavior
In a dark room on the bed he kissed them all

He'd kill ten thousand people
With a slight of his hand, running far, running fast to the dead
He took off all their clothes for them
He put a cloth on their lips, quiet hands, quiet kiss on the mouth
And in my best behavior I am really just like him
Look beneath the floorboards
For the secrets I have hid

I don't like thinking I'm as dirty as a killer. I don't like thinking I'm as wretched as a thief or a rapist or an addict. But I am.

Even though I hate the idea, I rank sins. Murder or child abuse tops my list while "tiny" lies have quite a low rank. To me, some sins are worse than others. Some people get sentenced to death for murder but Scripture makes it clear that those who even think badly of their brother or sister are guilty of such a crime, also. How many of us are really walking free?

I have such a difficult time with God. My problems are many, but one of the biggest is the fact that I want to know all things. I want to know why in the world He created those who would turn away from Him, hate Him, and even disbelieve in Him. I want to know why He thought this awful bunch of people were somehow still beautiful, somehow still worth leaving behind heaven for an earth that is tired and dirty. I want to know what stopped Him from running away before He encountered the cross. He could have, easily, but He didn't. Something kept Him there.

I do not understand God because now, in this state that I am, I feel pursued by Him. And I know I am not worthy of such a pursuit, not clean enough, not good enough, not enough, not enough, not enough...

I so often hate Him. I don't mean to and I don't plan to, but I think there is either love or hate with God. I have not had love lately; my choices and selfishness proves that. That only leaves hate. And I am not sorry enough to fall on my knees yet. What will it take, I often wonder.

I have been listening to Sufjan Stevens' Illinois album a lot lately. This song has always been one of my favorites on the album and one of my favorites of his in general. I too have secrets buried underneath the floor. I too have hurt so many, including the one who hurt for Me. I have the hands of a killer and the heart of a whore. Yet there is still pursuit.

As I talked to a friend of mine on the phone today, she was sharing with me some Scripture God had been leading her through lately. She mentioned that if an angel of God, just one, solitary angel, has the power to defeat hundreds of thousands of men as in Scripture, the armies of God, the entirety of God, must be even stronger. God has the power to do anything.

And here I stand, punishing myself for my sins. Here I stand, deeming myself unworthy for a grace that has cleansed millions and millions before me. Here I stand, unwilling to let the God of the universe break me until there is nothing left but Him.

Perhaps we can pull up the floorboards together and with every error, every sin, perhaps there can be forgiveness.

Song of the Moment: "Jacksonville," Sufjan Stevens

Words and Their Lifespan

2006-03-08T21:29:00.000-08:00

I have a cold. I sound like a male, which is unfortunate since I am not one. I ate an orange for its vitamin C and have consumed one and a half mugs of hot green tea. I have also had cookie dough ice cream because I simply wanted some.

I've already decided, better or not, I am staying home from school tomorrow. This way I can sleep in and get rested, cough in the privacy of my own home, and avoid that awkward moment getting handed back a math test I am sure I failed.

It's kind of strange to me how much I am affected by words. (I'm quite confident this isn't just a "me" thing, though; I'm sure this is true for most people.) Kind words can make a bland day great just as harsh words can scar a soul within a second or two. The two English teachers I have this quarter have both complimented me recently by calling me an excellent student and saying what good work I turn in. Those words mean a lot to me, especially when I doubt my ability to write anything worthy of being read.

I remember certain words, certain conversations, vividly. I remember being wounded by words and I remember being healed by words. Words are such powerful yet tiny things. They are small, formed by singular letters when brought together form one meaning. It's amazing to me just how many different words there are, how many different meanings.

Words can do amazing things. They can make you feel as if you've just been punched in the stomach and they can make you feel as if you've just been baptized. It seems our culture has lost the beauty of words. Words do not seem to be thought about much anymore, just tossed out there waiting for a reply of some sort.

What, you might be wondering, are the purpose of my words tonight, the meaning of them? I have absolutely no idea. I've spent most of my day curled up on my sofa reading from my English lit book so words in general have been on my mind.

I have decided this summer that I am going to immerse myself in good, classic literature. I want to re-read To Kill a Mockingbird and read some more Flannery O'Connor stuff. I'm unsure what else to sit on my nightstand so any suggestions are most welcome. Though John Grisham writes some quite entertaining novels, I'm ready to take a few steps forward. I still think A Time to Kill was fantastic, though...

Plan B

2006-03-06T22:14:00.000-08:00

Last night was good. Some friends and I had an Oscar party where we ate tacos and way too much ice cream. One pal wore her hot pink, ballroom-gown style prom dress over jeans and a t-shirt. I, however, opted for a black tulle skirt over jeans and a cardigan, with my princess tiara making my hair look all Hollywoodish. We looked hot.

I got 14 categories out of 24 correct. I beat last year's 13. It's sad how involved I get, huh?

I thought Jon Stewart did a super job. I found him quite hysterical and so did the people I watched the show with. Three things I learned from watching the Oscars:

1) I really love the song "In the Depp" from Crash
2) I'm going to perform "It's Hard Out Here For a Pimp" in church sometime
3) George Clooney is dreamy

It was a nice way to end a mediocre weekend. Unlike most college students, I don't like weekends. I usually dread them, in fact. It seems like it's then when I wrestle with loneliness the most. It's just hard to sit at home most Friday and Saturday nights wishing you were doing something with someone. I feel that, with most of my friends, I am their Plan B. They're all so busy with other people and things that I tend to get forgotten about.

I guess I'm just struggling with finding my place. I don't feel as if I fit in my church and I feel as if all my good friendships are slowly slipping away. My heart has simply felt heavy lately. I miss feeling as if I am truly important to someone, as if they would be less of a person without me in their life. I know that's probably kind of selfish, but the feeling is there.

I just hate feeling like I am everyone's second pick.

All Dressed in White

2006-03-01T12:24:00.000-08:00

Another dear friend of mine just got engaged. She’s getting married in August and I hope to fly there for the ceremony and to see my other friends also. With one friend getting married in June and another in August, weddings seem to be everywhere.

It is wonderful to see my lovely friends so happy. They have men in their lives who love them and treat them with respect and adoration. Both couples are devoted to God and the Church and that’s a thrill.

You’d think that the atrocious divorce rate would be better inside the doors of the Church, but it is not. Even inside a place where faithfulness, trust, and true, honest-to-goodness love is applauded, marriages still fail fifty percent of the time.

As I wondered why this was, I began to realize that so much thought and time is spent in preparation for the ceremony. People fuss over flowers, colors, attendants, cakes, etc., etc., etc. If only all of that time and energy was also spent on the actual marriage.

All this thought about marriage lately has made me think so much about my relationship with God, or at least what it should be. Today at school, I noticed a guy I had in my English class last quarter. I saw him from behind and knew instantly who he was. I have only spoken to this guy a couple of times and haven't seen him since last fall, really, but today I recognized him.

I have known of God since I can remember. I have been in church my entire life. In spite of this, I do not recognize God as quickly as I did that kid in English, someone I never had a relationship with, someone I didn't know outside of room 222.

The friend of mine who is getting married in June is madly in love with her fiance. She talks to him at least once or twice daily. She gets giddy when he is in the room. She knows his quirks, his favorite things. I feel as if I should be the same in regards to God. What screams of love and devotion more than the greatest King the world has and will ever know being born in a bed of straw because no one was willing to give his family a room? What wedding gift is more beautiful than the blood He willingly spilt to cover the transgressions of his beloved, whores and thieves who did not deserve such a thing?

I believe the act of sex in its proper and sacred context represents so well what the Church's relationship with God should be. When a husband and a wife come together, there is nothing between them. There is nothing to hide behind anymore. Both participants must have unconditional trust and admiration for one another. In the act of sex, they are allowed to come as close to one another as they can get, to know one another so completely and intimately.

Coming into communion with God should feel very much the same: No walls, no fear, but only beauty and meaning. Perhaps this explains why our culture is so obsessed with sex, even inside the Church. It could be man's search for sexual fulfillment is actually his search for God, for that one perfect Lover who will never disappoint, never abandon, and never take for granted the beauty of his cherished Bride.

As I attempt to find God in the mundane day to day of my life, I want to find a marriage. I want to know God the way I dream of knowing my husband. I want to love God the way I dream of loving my husband. I look forward to the day when I myself will have a ring upon my finger and a sexy, perhaps wealthy (just joking...kind of) man next to me. But I will not be ready for that day until I have come into the same type of union with the Almighty. I don't think anyone can truly understand what marriage should and could be away from God. He is love, perfect and pure love. And without such a thing, no marriage has a chance.

Song of the Moment: "A King & a Kingdom", Derek Webb

Office Supply Glee

2006-02-28T13:32:00.000-08:00

So, today I bought a pencil. Two pencils, actually. They also came with a free pen. I spent almost five bucks on these pencils and free pen, even though I in no way needed them.

The reason I bought the package was because one of the pencils was hot pink. I think, perhaps subconsciously, I have always wanted a hot pink pencil. And now, this day, the 28th of February, I own one. And a teal one, too.

What War Is Like

2006-02-27T14:59:00.000-08:00

For my English Lit class, I have a set of journals due tomorrow. In these journals, I get to write about plays, short stories and poems. (This section was all about war and peace.) I have the freedom to talk about whatever I want so these journals have really been fun to work on. For this set, I wrote an entry on Langston Hughes' poem "Harlem," from which the play A Raisin in the Sun (something our class talked about earlier on) got its name. I liked this entry a lot so I thought I'd post it here, along with the poem that inspired it.

"Harlem"

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

As I began reading “Harlem,” I immediately made the connection to A Raisin in the Sun. At first I wondered why this poem was in the War & Peace section of the book, but then I realized it was quite applicable.

As I think of war, I think of a scene out of Saving Private Ryan or Black Hawk Down. I picture lots of chaos, lots of blood and gore. But as I thought about it, I realized there are moments in life when war does not take place on a battlefield. The wars of life are not always bloody. Instead of loss of limbs or life, sometimes the loss is sleep, faith, or peace. Instead of guns and bombs, sometimes the weapons of war are words, loss, or grief.

Dreams, as Hughes mentioned in the first line of this poem, are very much a sort of war. As children all of us have dreams. (I think of Walter from A Raisin in the Sun.) Not only do we have them, but we believe they will occur. It is not until later in life when we begin to question our dreams, to doubt the deepest desires of our hearts. I think the way Hughes wrote “Harlem” is a good diagram of a dream’s journey: Hughes starts off with five lines, then three, then two, then one. Dreams often run the same course, starting off strong, and then slowly wilting into something we brush off as silly and meaningless. As in war, we must fight for our dreams. The deep desires of our hearts are there for a purpose.

But, also as in war, the battle to destroy our dreams is one that is raging. Dreams, I believe, can simply be translated as hope. They are the hope for betterment, the hope for redemption from our frail and tired lives. They are the hope that someday our names will mean something to someone, that someday we will have the bravery and courage of the greatest of soldiers.
The question Hughes asks in the final line of this poem is an important one: Do dreams explode when they are left unfulfilled? Do they, like the bombs and bullets of war, wound us to our very core when they are ignored? I believe they do. As we lose our dreams, we lose our hope. And without hope, all we really have is war.

Numero Uno

2006-02-26T18:22:00.000-08:00

Well, this is the infamous first post at my new home. I'm insanely sad that I lost almost five years worth of writing due to the death of Diary-X. Note to all of you: Keep paper journals also.

In the couple of weeks since Diary-X has been down, I have been craving to write. I've missed it so much. I didn't realize how much of a release it was for me to just get words out there, somewhere.

Life has been good lately. Last weekend I saw Jars of Clay, Derek Webb and Sara Groves. It was a lovely day and a great concert. My only complaints were that Derek Webb's set was far too short and that Jars played "I Need You" and "Flood" instead of "Jealous Kind" and "Trouble Is." Oh well. I'll take what I can get, and happily so.

For the past couple of weeks, I've been making my way through Donald Miller's Searching For God Knows What. It's a great read. I think the thoughts God has placed in Miller could benefit the Church so much if we all would take them to heart. I have learned an immense amount lately about God and about the Church I am a member of.

I came to the realization late last night, in the quiet and solitude of my bedroom, that I do not love God. I like him and there are moments when I lust after him but love? I lust after the peace He can give, the patience, the wisdom, the grace, the easiness but lust is all it is. In the Miller book I'm reading right now, he talks about how almost all of Scripture is relational and without relationships we can never prosper. My "relationship" with God has been anything but. He is simply a deity to me, a being that wants the best for me. I admire Him and I wish to know more, but I do not yet love.

As I crawled into my bed last night, I wondered how I could love God. As soon as I thought the question, I realized it was just like a dating relationship. You don't fall in love right away. That takes time. I must spend time with Him, must search for His presence in every space I enter. I must allow Him to love me, to tell me I am beautiful, to tell me I am worthy of being pursued.

I have always wondered why it is so easy for me to go against the will of God while it hurts so much to know I have let down my parents. I cannot stand the thought of disappointing my earthly father. If I think I have let him down in the slightest, it is not a second until I tear up and feel heartbroken. But that is because I have a relationship with my father. I see him, speak to him, know his touch. I can hear his footsteps when he's approaching a room, I can tell when it's his car pulling into the garage. I know him. And he knows me. I wish the same for my relationship with God.

If I spend my time here wasting what little affections I have on a god instead of God, I AM, the one who offers life so complete and divine, my years here would have been for nothing.

I want to love God with the love I have for the people I interact with every day. I feel His pursuit. It seems that when I am my most hardened, my most dark, I feel Him calling out to me the loudest. I am attempting now not to just listen, but to let His words invade me, consume me, and, ultimately, heal me.