What if Christians worshiped and centered their lives around their God as passionately as non-Christians worship and center their lives around their gods?
Just a thought.
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
Heroines
Jo March.
Anne Shirley.
Belle.
Guinevere.
Joan of Arc.
Ruth.
I absolutely adore these women, these literary heroines. In so many novels, especially the classics that I like reading the most, the women characters are so prim and proper, hopelessly romantic to a fault, and do nothing but sew and keep house and go to dances and gossip. Or they're princesses, and although I love a good princess story, all too often it's only the prince that has the adventure.
Not these.
These women are smart, are bookish, are spunky, are outspoken, are opinionated. They're strong. They are stubborn and sometimes have tempers. These women are extremely loyal and trustworthy (with the exception of Guinevere; she's sort of a hussy in a few of her tales). They have ambitions and dreams and chase after them. These women are creative and independent and vibrant. These women are incredibly brave.
These women thrive on adventure.
And really, I think that every single person craves that. In the book Captivating, John and Stasi Eldredge say that every woman wants "to be romanced, to play an irreplaceable role in a great adventure, and to unveil beauty". I totally agree with that, and right now, I want that adventure. There are so many adventures to be had for a person in today's culture. People consider their career an adventure, their family an adventure, or go do as many daredevil things possible. Other people, on the other hand, will live their entire lives stuck in a rut of monotony and never feel thrilled.
Here's the thing - Jesus supplies that adventure! I'm on the quest of a lifetime. With Him as my king, I have the task of taking everything that He is and spreading it everywhere that I can in as many ways as I can. For someone who doesn't know how fulfilling a relationship with Christ is, that may sound uneventful and boring. But for me, and for anyone who has lost their heart to God, this is incredible and exciting! And my adventure has been tailor-made for me! God made me, He knows what stirs my heart, and He put me in a story that fits me like a glove. I want to go! I want to play this part! I want my adventure!!
I want to be like my literary heroines. I want a life filled to the brim with adventure. And I want the world to be overcome with a love and passion and freedom that comes from Jesus.
It's crazy how that's completely possible.
Anne Shirley.
Belle.
Guinevere.
Joan of Arc.
Ruth.
I absolutely adore these women, these literary heroines. In so many novels, especially the classics that I like reading the most, the women characters are so prim and proper, hopelessly romantic to a fault, and do nothing but sew and keep house and go to dances and gossip. Or they're princesses, and although I love a good princess story, all too often it's only the prince that has the adventure.
Not these.
These women are smart, are bookish, are spunky, are outspoken, are opinionated. They're strong. They are stubborn and sometimes have tempers. These women are extremely loyal and trustworthy (with the exception of Guinevere; she's sort of a hussy in a few of her tales). They have ambitions and dreams and chase after them. These women are creative and independent and vibrant. These women are incredibly brave.
These women thrive on adventure.
And really, I think that every single person craves that. In the book Captivating, John and Stasi Eldredge say that every woman wants "to be romanced, to play an irreplaceable role in a great adventure, and to unveil beauty". I totally agree with that, and right now, I want that adventure. There are so many adventures to be had for a person in today's culture. People consider their career an adventure, their family an adventure, or go do as many daredevil things possible. Other people, on the other hand, will live their entire lives stuck in a rut of monotony and never feel thrilled.
Here's the thing - Jesus supplies that adventure! I'm on the quest of a lifetime. With Him as my king, I have the task of taking everything that He is and spreading it everywhere that I can in as many ways as I can. For someone who doesn't know how fulfilling a relationship with Christ is, that may sound uneventful and boring. But for me, and for anyone who has lost their heart to God, this is incredible and exciting! And my adventure has been tailor-made for me! God made me, He knows what stirs my heart, and He put me in a story that fits me like a glove. I want to go! I want to play this part! I want my adventure!!
I want to be like my literary heroines. I want a life filled to the brim with adventure. And I want the world to be overcome with a love and passion and freedom that comes from Jesus.
It's crazy how that's completely possible.
"Jesus, You're my great adventure! You're my everything!!"
You're the swimming pool on an August day.
I'm going to be that girl. That middle school girl oh-so-full of EMOTION GAHH!HHHH!HH!HH!H!!!!
I'm going to post lyrics to a song. *inward groan* "Kat! That's is a blogging faux pas, how DARE YOU!!!"
Well, unless you want to hear me gush on and on about how incredibly blessed I am for God to have sent such a wonderful man into my life, then you will simply accept these lyrics and go on with your life. Oh, and you should actually read them. For real. And not just skim and roll your eyes.
I love the cover these guys do of it.
"Everything"
Michael Bublé
You're a falling star. You're the get-away car.
You're the line in the sand when I go too far.
You're the swimming pool on an August day,
And you're the perfect thing to say.
And you play it coy, but it's kinda cute.
Ah, when you smile at me you know exactly what you do.
Baby, don't pretend that you don't know it's true,
'cause you can see it when I look at you.
And in this crazy life and through these crazy times,
It's you, it's you - you make me sing.
You're every line. You're every word. You're everything.
You're a carousel. You're a wishing well,
And you light me up when you ring my bell.
You're a mystery. You're from outer space.
You're every minute of my every day.
And I can't believe, oh!, that I'm your man
And I get to kiss you, baby, just because I can.
Whatever comes our way, ah we'll see it through,
'cause you know that's what our love can do.
So, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
So, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
I'm going to post lyrics to a song. *inward groan* "Kat! That's is a blogging faux pas, how DARE YOU!!!"
Well, unless you want to hear me gush on and on about how incredibly blessed I am for God to have sent such a wonderful man into my life, then you will simply accept these lyrics and go on with your life. Oh, and you should actually read them. For real. And not just skim and roll your eyes.
I love the cover these guys do of it.
"Everything"
Michael Bublé
You're a falling star. You're the get-away car.
You're the line in the sand when I go too far.
You're the swimming pool on an August day,
And you're the perfect thing to say.
And you play it coy, but it's kinda cute.
Ah, when you smile at me you know exactly what you do.
Baby, don't pretend that you don't know it's true,
'cause you can see it when I look at you.
And in this crazy life and through these crazy times,
It's you, it's you - you make me sing.
You're every line. You're every word. You're everything.
You're a carousel. You're a wishing well,
And you light me up when you ring my bell.
You're a mystery. You're from outer space.
You're every minute of my every day.
And I can't believe, oh!, that I'm your man
And I get to kiss you, baby, just because I can.
Whatever comes our way, ah we'll see it through,
'cause you know that's what our love can do.
So, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
So, la, la, la, la, la, la, la
Restorer of Streets
Guten tag from Chicago! I'm approximately halfway through my week-long stint of evangelism internship with Destination Church, which has already been an incredible time of being refined by God. Basically, we do a lot of on-the-streets evangelism with fliers for the summer series and surveys, and there are festivals every weekend where a Soularium booth will be set up. We're also reading Reimagining Evangelism by Rich Richardson, which has thrown some pretty challenging nuggets up in my face already to chew on, and it's only chapter two! I'm also getting to meet some great people, and the Sweetmans are fantastic. Except Matt, because he is bald. I'm really bummed that I can't stay for the entire month (I'll be leaving early Sunday afternoon so that I can get back to Maryville by a decent enough time on Monday to handle percussion lessons and drumline preparation).
But anyways, enough for that journalism-esque update. I want to rewind the scene back to Monday night, which was the first night that I actually stayed in Chicago.
For the past year or so, God's shown me in different ways that He wants me to help church plant. At Celebration Midwest, He laid cities on my heart. Okay, pause. I am not a city girl. I grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere, I am incredibly dorky, I am a white girl who insists that she is black which only makes her more white. So I argued with God for a bit, and then after He calmed me down, I got really excited. Like, really, really, really excited. Really.
When I first started walking around Chicago for an hour before orientation on Monday, I fell in love with the city. It was beautiful, it was vibrant, it was full of culture and stories. I was a little frustrated because I couldn't parallel park and had to try some six spots before I even somewhat managed to park correctly, but still. Later that night, a group of us girls went to a park and experienced a FireDance, or hippie pasttime of fire and weed and drums every full moon. Kind of weird, but really cool.
That night, everything from the day caught up with me, and I was reduced to tears. I hated the city. I hated how dirty it was, I missed fresh air, the parking was crazy. Walking everywhere, which was cool at first, just felt annoying. I felt like just one face out of a million, like I didn't matter. I felt lost and overwhelmed. And what killed me was that I couldn't see the stars. I hated the city. But God had called me to a city. I realized that I was going to have to give up so much. I felt like I would never ever ever fit in. This awesome dream that God had given me a year ago started to crumble, and I didn't know what to do.
I prayed about it. I realized that whatever city God decided to put me in more permanently, I would fall in love with because God would stir that in my heart. I realized that I'm in the third largest United States city, and that there are tons of other cities that I might be sent to that would be a bit less scary. I took a deep breath, and I was fine. The last few days, I have really started to get my bearings. I love it here now, or at least more so! I know where I'm going, I understand the rail system, and I even cross streets when I'm not supposed to like a true Chicago-an (lol). I'm getting it. I'm still apprehensive about what God has in store for my future, but I'm getting it.
Then, I got these verses this morning.
The LORD will guide you always. He won't leave me stranded and overwhelmed. He'll show me how to reach a culture that is different than mine. And, to take it a little more literally (lol), maybe He'll even keep me from getting completely and totally lost in this maze of streets.
He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land... God knows my heart and He knows what makes it soar. He knows that I'll be giving up things that I love to serve a city somewhere, things like stars and close friends and fresh air and total darkness and wildflowers. He knows that. And He'll satisfy those things in me in ways that I don't even know yet. He'll provide for me. He'll show me new things to fall in love with.
...and will strengthen your frame. Don't laugh at this one, but you walk a TON in a city and I am exhausted at the end of every day between the walking and the emotional toil of being totally alert for hours on end. So this is encouraging.
And the last parts about being a sort of oasis, of never running dry, of rebuilding a city from brokenness... I'm not useless! He'll bless His handiwork through me, He'll show His love through me. There is a point and I will be productive, I will make a change. Something beautiful will come out of this dry place.
God sat me down and said, "Girl, stop it. Stop worrying. I've got you."
This city - and every city - is His.
But anyways, enough for that journalism-esque update. I want to rewind the scene back to Monday night, which was the first night that I actually stayed in Chicago.
For the past year or so, God's shown me in different ways that He wants me to help church plant. At Celebration Midwest, He laid cities on my heart. Okay, pause. I am not a city girl. I grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere, I am incredibly dorky, I am a white girl who insists that she is black which only makes her more white. So I argued with God for a bit, and then after He calmed me down, I got really excited. Like, really, really, really excited. Really.
When I first started walking around Chicago for an hour before orientation on Monday, I fell in love with the city. It was beautiful, it was vibrant, it was full of culture and stories. I was a little frustrated because I couldn't parallel park and had to try some six spots before I even somewhat managed to park correctly, but still. Later that night, a group of us girls went to a park and experienced a FireDance, or hippie pasttime of fire and weed and drums every full moon. Kind of weird, but really cool.
That night, everything from the day caught up with me, and I was reduced to tears. I hated the city. I hated how dirty it was, I missed fresh air, the parking was crazy. Walking everywhere, which was cool at first, just felt annoying. I felt like just one face out of a million, like I didn't matter. I felt lost and overwhelmed. And what killed me was that I couldn't see the stars. I hated the city. But God had called me to a city. I realized that I was going to have to give up so much. I felt like I would never ever ever fit in. This awesome dream that God had given me a year ago started to crumble, and I didn't know what to do.
I prayed about it. I realized that whatever city God decided to put me in more permanently, I would fall in love with because God would stir that in my heart. I realized that I'm in the third largest United States city, and that there are tons of other cities that I might be sent to that would be a bit less scary. I took a deep breath, and I was fine. The last few days, I have really started to get my bearings. I love it here now, or at least more so! I know where I'm going, I understand the rail system, and I even cross streets when I'm not supposed to like a true Chicago-an (lol). I'm getting it. I'm still apprehensive about what God has in store for my future, but I'm getting it.
Then, I got these verses this morning.
6 "Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:I think that God wrote those verses just for me. I mean, that's my heart! The oppressed, the hurting, the poor, the homeless, the stereotyped, those who have faced injustice over and over again... those are the very people that I want to help, that I want to live with and get to know and reach and LOVE! And so, God gives me verse 11 and 12.
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness [a] will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.
9 Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
"If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
11 The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.
12 Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings. Isaiah 58:6-12
The LORD will guide you always. He won't leave me stranded and overwhelmed. He'll show me how to reach a culture that is different than mine. And, to take it a little more literally (lol), maybe He'll even keep me from getting completely and totally lost in this maze of streets.
He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land... God knows my heart and He knows what makes it soar. He knows that I'll be giving up things that I love to serve a city somewhere, things like stars and close friends and fresh air and total darkness and wildflowers. He knows that. And He'll satisfy those things in me in ways that I don't even know yet. He'll provide for me. He'll show me new things to fall in love with.
...and will strengthen your frame. Don't laugh at this one, but you walk a TON in a city and I am exhausted at the end of every day between the walking and the emotional toil of being totally alert for hours on end. So this is encouraging.
And the last parts about being a sort of oasis, of never running dry, of rebuilding a city from brokenness... I'm not useless! He'll bless His handiwork through me, He'll show His love through me. There is a point and I will be productive, I will make a change. Something beautiful will come out of this dry place.
God sat me down and said, "Girl, stop it. Stop worrying. I've got you."
This city - and every city - is His.
My soul is well!
Two weeks ago, I was in a dry, frustrated, stagnant state. But God has put the smile back on my face and the song back into my heart! And I have learned all over again that...
The Spirit frees us from excuses. During one of the night sessions at OneBlaze, I felt God saying, "Get your butt to Borders, now." I was excited and ready to go and let the Spirit take the lead, but the bigger part of me thought it was ridiculous. For one, it was around 9:45 at night, and Borders would probably be closed. For two, it isn't necessarily the wisest choice for a girl to go off alone to talk to strangers. For three, all of the guys were busy praying or would be taking campers back to MWSU, so who would I take? Should I wait? I came up with a list of reasons why I shouldn't go, and then, I went. I prayed for help, I prayed for clarity, I prayed for boldness. Long story short, seeds were planted and a soul was saved! I will rejoice with Casey forever in heaven! The Spirit is often spur-of-the-moment, nonsensical, and charging. But the Spirit is also powerful, and although we could discount His pressings, God is glorified in our obedience. I said long ago that I would serve Him with everything I am every day of my life. I serve an incredible King, and if He says go, I need to go!
God can make things that this world has corrupted beautiful again. Romantic relationships are a gift of God, something that He created and has created us for! And, like most things that God has given us, our society has made a mess of them. I have been in a lot of relationships, most of which got caught up in the physical aspect quickly. Although I've been healed and restored - oh, God is so gracious!! - I have always wondered what a relationship centered on God was like. Well, I am almost a month into a relationship with a great Godly guy, and although I know that's not long, he still means a lot to me. I spent five days last week working at that OneBlaze camp along with him. We both had responsibilities and so we had to watch ourselves regarding PDA, regarding consideration as we both got more tired and more impatient... but I couldn't have asked for a more blessed few days. We are growing spiritually! We are on a mission together! We're seeing how we work as a team to build the Kingdom! I wish we had more chances to serve God together, and that's so hard, being in different places. But what I'm experiencing is a relationship restored, a relationship centered and focused solely on God and His plan for the world. It is so, so, so good.
I am not a useless disappointment. One thing that I have been struggling with most of the summer is that I have placed God into a working relationship category. That sucked the joy out of if, and without joy, I couldn't worship or pray, and without worship or prayer, I couldn't be moved by the Spirit, and without the Spirit, I had no drive to do anything. I got stuck in this giant rut, and when I would wake up and want to serve God, Satan (stupid idiot) would tell me that I had messed up so much lately that God was disappointed in me and wouldn't possibly want to use me. I bought into that so deeply... but it's not true! It's not, in the least bit true! I couldn't EVER disappoint God! He knows me so intimately, so thoroughly, and knows when I'll mess up, and still loves me, not even the tiniest bit less! He looks at me, sees the sacrifice and righteousness of His Son, and says, "Chin up, girl; I love you." He has an adventure for me! I LOVE THAT!! And despite anything I've ever done or any slump I've ever slipping into, He still has work for me to do and still sees me as qualified to do it - no, not just qualified to do it, but made for it! It's an adventure for me to go on out of a heart of joy and love and service, not of obligation. And that is a huge difference.
God is faithful. I have been praying for the joy to come back. I have been praying for the yearning to see the Gospel spread again. I have been praying for the love and the passion. I have been praying for a breakthrough. And God answered!! He never had, for even one second, turned away from me, and He has been romancing my heart day in and day out. He has given me back that burning desire to take the world for Him. He has released me from that lying mindset of treating my relationship with Him as something similar to a business relationship and shown me the joy of serving Him out of love. I had been begging for Him to somehow tear down whatever walls I had thrown up, to push me up out of this rut... and He is faithful! He did just that!! And He will be faithful to His promises for Maryville, and I am just tingling with excitement to watch Him work!
God is sovereign. That truth has just been hitting me harder and harder lately... His glory and power is infinite. He is in charge of everything, He knows everything, and He has everything under control. He is powerful over my financial worries, over my stress regarding the music department stuff for next year, over the Maryville church, over my parents, over everything. I am just floored by how complete His power and reign is, and the fact that a God that glorious knows me, made me, adores me, chose me... there aren't words to capture it.
The Spirit frees us from excuses. During one of the night sessions at OneBlaze, I felt God saying, "Get your butt to Borders, now." I was excited and ready to go and let the Spirit take the lead, but the bigger part of me thought it was ridiculous. For one, it was around 9:45 at night, and Borders would probably be closed. For two, it isn't necessarily the wisest choice for a girl to go off alone to talk to strangers. For three, all of the guys were busy praying or would be taking campers back to MWSU, so who would I take? Should I wait? I came up with a list of reasons why I shouldn't go, and then, I went. I prayed for help, I prayed for clarity, I prayed for boldness. Long story short, seeds were planted and a soul was saved! I will rejoice with Casey forever in heaven! The Spirit is often spur-of-the-moment, nonsensical, and charging. But the Spirit is also powerful, and although we could discount His pressings, God is glorified in our obedience. I said long ago that I would serve Him with everything I am every day of my life. I serve an incredible King, and if He says go, I need to go!
God can make things that this world has corrupted beautiful again. Romantic relationships are a gift of God, something that He created and has created us for! And, like most things that God has given us, our society has made a mess of them. I have been in a lot of relationships, most of which got caught up in the physical aspect quickly. Although I've been healed and restored - oh, God is so gracious!! - I have always wondered what a relationship centered on God was like. Well, I am almost a month into a relationship with a great Godly guy, and although I know that's not long, he still means a lot to me. I spent five days last week working at that OneBlaze camp along with him. We both had responsibilities and so we had to watch ourselves regarding PDA, regarding consideration as we both got more tired and more impatient... but I couldn't have asked for a more blessed few days. We are growing spiritually! We are on a mission together! We're seeing how we work as a team to build the Kingdom! I wish we had more chances to serve God together, and that's so hard, being in different places. But what I'm experiencing is a relationship restored, a relationship centered and focused solely on God and His plan for the world. It is so, so, so good.
I am not a useless disappointment. One thing that I have been struggling with most of the summer is that I have placed God into a working relationship category. That sucked the joy out of if, and without joy, I couldn't worship or pray, and without worship or prayer, I couldn't be moved by the Spirit, and without the Spirit, I had no drive to do anything. I got stuck in this giant rut, and when I would wake up and want to serve God, Satan (stupid idiot) would tell me that I had messed up so much lately that God was disappointed in me and wouldn't possibly want to use me. I bought into that so deeply... but it's not true! It's not, in the least bit true! I couldn't EVER disappoint God! He knows me so intimately, so thoroughly, and knows when I'll mess up, and still loves me, not even the tiniest bit less! He looks at me, sees the sacrifice and righteousness of His Son, and says, "Chin up, girl; I love you." He has an adventure for me! I LOVE THAT!! And despite anything I've ever done or any slump I've ever slipping into, He still has work for me to do and still sees me as qualified to do it - no, not just qualified to do it, but made for it! It's an adventure for me to go on out of a heart of joy and love and service, not of obligation. And that is a huge difference.
God is faithful. I have been praying for the joy to come back. I have been praying for the yearning to see the Gospel spread again. I have been praying for the love and the passion. I have been praying for a breakthrough. And God answered!! He never had, for even one second, turned away from me, and He has been romancing my heart day in and day out. He has given me back that burning desire to take the world for Him. He has released me from that lying mindset of treating my relationship with Him as something similar to a business relationship and shown me the joy of serving Him out of love. I had been begging for Him to somehow tear down whatever walls I had thrown up, to push me up out of this rut... and He is faithful! He did just that!! And He will be faithful to His promises for Maryville, and I am just tingling with excitement to watch Him work!
God is sovereign. That truth has just been hitting me harder and harder lately... His glory and power is infinite. He is in charge of everything, He knows everything, and He has everything under control. He is powerful over my financial worries, over my stress regarding the music department stuff for next year, over the Maryville church, over my parents, over everything. I am just floored by how complete His power and reign is, and the fact that a God that glorious knows me, made me, adores me, chose me... there aren't words to capture it.
With all creation, I sing praise to the King of Kings!
You are my everything, and I will adore You!!
Really? A two-in-the-morning email?
This couldn't have been a decision that you just came up with in the last few months. You said yourself in that ridiculous e-mail that even had typos in it that you couldn't be bother to correct that you and your wife had wanted to move for a very long time. During the past two school years, I have seen you almost every single day.
Every.
Single.
Freaking.
Day.
And you were my advisor! You were the one who sat me down during my freshman year and let me completely and totally fall apart because you were worried that I wasn't going to stay and needed some help and encouragement. That was you. That was you caring. You made me play a duck call upwards of fifteen times last year. You teased me all the time. You don't just tease and leave, dude. That's low.
Or you at least say your good-byes. No, instead, the music department wakes up to an e-mail that has perhaps twenty words in it, three of which misspelled, and an attached letter. Not only was the letter directed towards everyone you were going to have to part with and, therefore, not really directed specifically towards your students, it answered nothing. The first paragraph had a point - this is where I'm going and why. But after that, I didn't need to know what your schedule was going to be like in this other school! I don't care! And then for the final parting paragraph about how much you enjoyed Northwest and its students to be two sentences long... whatever! Oh, and the kicker? Not everyone got a letter, and some people got two or three. Typical. But yeah, I don't care what you're going to be in charge of now! You know what would've been nice? An actual personal e-mail explaining everything - EVERYTHING - and then saying what was going to happen next for us. Saying whether or not they have someone else picked out to take your place.
But I liked you, sir. Some people are elated that you are leaving, but the truth is, I really liked you. You frustrated the crap out of me with your lack of organization, but still. You kept my chin up. You encouraged me. You made me laugh. You helped me make music. You actually cared about me. And now you're gone. Without an actual good-bye. The year that terrifies me, the year that I have so much stepping up into leadership to do, is the year that you decide to leave. What the heck, sir? And Joel is even leaving, which throws another responsibility on me that I have to hurry and grow to fill. Freaking sweet.
Everything is going to change because you're gone.
But what do you care. You're gone.
Every.
Single.
Freaking.
Day.
And you were my advisor! You were the one who sat me down during my freshman year and let me completely and totally fall apart because you were worried that I wasn't going to stay and needed some help and encouragement. That was you. That was you caring. You made me play a duck call upwards of fifteen times last year. You teased me all the time. You don't just tease and leave, dude. That's low.
Or you at least say your good-byes. No, instead, the music department wakes up to an e-mail that has perhaps twenty words in it, three of which misspelled, and an attached letter. Not only was the letter directed towards everyone you were going to have to part with and, therefore, not really directed specifically towards your students, it answered nothing. The first paragraph had a point - this is where I'm going and why. But after that, I didn't need to know what your schedule was going to be like in this other school! I don't care! And then for the final parting paragraph about how much you enjoyed Northwest and its students to be two sentences long... whatever! Oh, and the kicker? Not everyone got a letter, and some people got two or three. Typical. But yeah, I don't care what you're going to be in charge of now! You know what would've been nice? An actual personal e-mail explaining everything - EVERYTHING - and then saying what was going to happen next for us. Saying whether or not they have someone else picked out to take your place.
But I liked you, sir. Some people are elated that you are leaving, but the truth is, I really liked you. You frustrated the crap out of me with your lack of organization, but still. You kept my chin up. You encouraged me. You made me laugh. You helped me make music. You actually cared about me. And now you're gone. Without an actual good-bye. The year that terrifies me, the year that I have so much stepping up into leadership to do, is the year that you decide to leave. What the heck, sir? And Joel is even leaving, which throws another responsibility on me that I have to hurry and grow to fill. Freaking sweet.
Everything is going to change because you're gone.
But what do you care. You're gone.
I'm homesick, I'm home alone, voila.
I am a little girl. I get excited easily, nervous easily, scared easily, and thrilled easily. I love exploring and feeling and smiling. I want to fly. I want to sing loudly and play Christmas music on the piano while my family sits at the dinner table. I don't want to let go of dreams. I want to be allowed to fail every now and then. I like the toy sections in Wal-Mart more than the home decor sections. I never want to stop being my daddy's little girl or princess.
I am a grown-up woman. I have ambitions and dreams and I aim to run after them with all that I have. I love having responsibilities and challenges because they give me something to apply myself to. From time to time, I even like cleaning house and doing dishes and cooking. I like the thought of having my own career. I daydream about a future in a different place with a family of my own. I want to take kids to karate lessons and dance practices. I want to be the kind of woman a man could be proud of. I want to be vibrant and exuberant and affect people.
But the reality is, I'm stuck between the two. I want to jump out on my own, but I still get homesick from time to time and sleep with a stuffed dog. I want to just sit and marvel and explore absolutely everything around me, but I want a job to do too. I want to start my career, but the expenses of life scare me. I want to chase my ambitions and make the difference that I know I was born to make, but I'm scared.
I'm somewhere between a little girl and an adult. And it's terrifying.
Here's what I know, though.
Even when I have an apartment and a husband and two kids and a puppy, I will still have two amazing guys as brothers and a set of parents that will be there for me. Even when I have my own little princesses, I'll still be Daddy's little girl. Even when I come home from my job at school worn out and frustrated, I'll have the friends only a phone call away that I know will pick up and be able to share my concerns with. Even when I can finally navigate city traffic like a pro, I'll still know how to drive a combine. Even if I never come back to Maryville after I leave here, I'll know that I'll still be connected to the church here.
I don't know if anyone ever truly feels like they're ready to be grown-up. Everyone, I think, has a piece of their childhood that they never want to let go of. For me, I think it's just the freedom to imagine. To dream and marvel and pretend.
And I think God's okay with that. He loved me as a little girl, and He'll love me as an adult, and He loves me in this in-between time too. But I think He doesn't want me to ever stop being awed. I think He wants to wow His girl with something new every single day. I think He wants me to explore His love and His mission for me and all of that. I think He's fine-tuned an adventure just for me.
So maybe I don't know which column I fit into right now - kid or adult. And maybe I never will. And maybe that's okay. It's okay to be homesick. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to want to be done with school and just go. It's okay to wish for the future. It's okay to miss the past.
I don't know where I was going with this. But I know where I've wound up. With reassurance that God has helped me grow up this far, and He's not done with me yet.
Phew.
I didn't know how much I needed to be told that again.
I am a grown-up woman. I have ambitions and dreams and I aim to run after them with all that I have. I love having responsibilities and challenges because they give me something to apply myself to. From time to time, I even like cleaning house and doing dishes and cooking. I like the thought of having my own career. I daydream about a future in a different place with a family of my own. I want to take kids to karate lessons and dance practices. I want to be the kind of woman a man could be proud of. I want to be vibrant and exuberant and affect people.
But the reality is, I'm stuck between the two. I want to jump out on my own, but I still get homesick from time to time and sleep with a stuffed dog. I want to just sit and marvel and explore absolutely everything around me, but I want a job to do too. I want to start my career, but the expenses of life scare me. I want to chase my ambitions and make the difference that I know I was born to make, but I'm scared.
I'm somewhere between a little girl and an adult. And it's terrifying.
Here's what I know, though.
Even when I have an apartment and a husband and two kids and a puppy, I will still have two amazing guys as brothers and a set of parents that will be there for me. Even when I have my own little princesses, I'll still be Daddy's little girl. Even when I come home from my job at school worn out and frustrated, I'll have the friends only a phone call away that I know will pick up and be able to share my concerns with. Even when I can finally navigate city traffic like a pro, I'll still know how to drive a combine. Even if I never come back to Maryville after I leave here, I'll know that I'll still be connected to the church here.
I don't know if anyone ever truly feels like they're ready to be grown-up. Everyone, I think, has a piece of their childhood that they never want to let go of. For me, I think it's just the freedom to imagine. To dream and marvel and pretend.
And I think God's okay with that. He loved me as a little girl, and He'll love me as an adult, and He loves me in this in-between time too. But I think He doesn't want me to ever stop being awed. I think He wants to wow His girl with something new every single day. I think He wants me to explore His love and His mission for me and all of that. I think He's fine-tuned an adventure just for me.
So maybe I don't know which column I fit into right now - kid or adult. And maybe I never will. And maybe that's okay. It's okay to be homesick. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to want to be done with school and just go. It's okay to wish for the future. It's okay to miss the past.
I don't know where I was going with this. But I know where I've wound up. With reassurance that God has helped me grow up this far, and He's not done with me yet.
Phew.
I didn't know how much I needed to be told that again.
"When I became a man, I put away childish things, such as fear of childishness and a desire to be very grown-up." - C.S. Lewis
But I have not yet been to college
This made me laugh like you can't even imagine. This is Hugh Gallagher's essay from his NYU college admission application.
Also, this has been a separate page for a while, but I don' t think it needs to be. I still want to keep it somewhere on this blog, though, so although this will now be my second "copy and paste" post in a row, do excuse me.
3A. ESSAY: IN ORDER FOR THE ADMISSIONS STAFF OF OUR COLLEGE TO GET TO KNOW YOU, THE APPLICANT, BETTER, WE ASK THAT YOU ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTION: ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS YOU HAVE REALIZED, THAT HAVE HELPED TO DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?
I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.
I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.
Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.
I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwideswoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat 400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.
I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.
I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prizewinning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.
But I have not yet gone to college.
Also, this has been a separate page for a while, but I don' t think it needs to be. I still want to keep it somewhere on this blog, though, so although this will now be my second "copy and paste" post in a row, do excuse me.
3A. ESSAY: IN ORDER FOR THE ADMISSIONS STAFF OF OUR COLLEGE TO GET TO KNOW YOU, THE APPLICANT, BETTER, WE ASK THAT YOU ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTION: ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS YOU HAVE REALIZED, THAT HAVE HELPED TO DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?
I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.
I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.
Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.
I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwideswoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat 400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.
I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.
I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prizewinning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.
But I have not yet gone to college.
You are not naked
I just wanted to share this. It's from Jon Acuff, writer of "Stuff Christians Like" (see link on the sidebar to the right). Every Wednesday, he departs from the satire and plunges serious talk. Here is one.
"I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty awesome at applying band-aids. And make no mistake, there is an art. Because if you go too quickly and unpeel them the wrong way, they stick to themselves and you end up with a wadded up useless mess instead of the Little Mermaid festooned bandage your daughter so desperately wants to apply to a boo boo that may in fact be 100% fictional.
Half of the injuries I treat at the Acuff house are invisible or simply wounds of sympathy. My oldest daughter will scrape her knee and my 3-year old, realizing the band aid box is open will say, “Yo dad, I’d like to get in on that too. What do you say we put one on, I don’t know, my ankle. Yeah, my ankle, let’s pretend that’s hurt.”
But sometimes the cuts are real, like the day my 5-year old got a scrape on her face playing in the front yard. I rushed in the house and returned with a princess bandage. As I bent down to apply it to her forehead, her eyes filled up with tears and she shrunk back from me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t want to wear that band-aid.” She replied.
“Why? You have a cut, you need a band-aid.” I said.
“I’ll look silly.” She answered.
Other than her sister and her mom, there was no one else in the yard. None of her friends were over, cars were not streaming passed our house and watching us play, the world was pretty empty at that moment. But for the first time I can remember, she felt shame. She had discovered shame. Somewhere, some how, this little 5 year old had learned to be afraid of looking silly. If I was smarter, if I had been better prepared for the transition from little toddler to little girl, I might have asked her this:
“Who told you that you were silly?”
I didn’t though. That question didn’t bloom in my head until much later and I didn’t understand it until I saw God ask a similar question in Genesis 3:11. To me, this is one of the saddest and most profoundly beautiful verses in the entire Bible. Adam and Eve have fallen. The apple is a core. The snake has spoken. The dream appears crushed. As they hide from God under clothes they’ve hastily sewn together, He appears and asks them a simple question:
“Who told you that you were naked?”
There is hurt in God’s voice as He asks this question, but there is also a deep sadness, the sense of a father holding a daughter that has for the first time ever, wrapped herself in shame.
Who told you that you were not enough?
Who told you that I didn’t love you?
Who told you that there was something outside of me you needed?
Who told you that you were ugly?
Who told you that your dream was foolish?
Who told you that you would never have a child?
Who told you that you would never be a father?
Who told you that you weren’t a good mother?
Who told you that without a job you aren’t worth anything?
Who told you that you’ll never know love again?
Who told you that this was all there is?
Who told you that you were naked?
I don’t know when you discovered shame. I don’t know when you discovered that there were
people that might think you are silly or dumb or not a good writer or a husband or a friend. I don’t know what lies you’ve been told by other people or maybe even by yourself.
But in response to what you are hearing from everyone else, God is still asking the question, “Who told you that you were naked?”
And He’s still asking us that question because we are not.
In Christ we are not worthless.
In Christ we are not hopeless.
In Christ we are not dumb or ugly or forgotten.
In Christ we are not naked.
Isaiah 61:10 it says:
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness.
The world may try to tell you a thousand different things today. You might close this post and hear a million declarations of what you are or who you’ll always be, but know this.As unbelievable as it sounds and as much as I never expected to type this sentence on this blog:
You are not naked."
"I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty awesome at applying band-aids. And make no mistake, there is an art. Because if you go too quickly and unpeel them the wrong way, they stick to themselves and you end up with a wadded up useless mess instead of the Little Mermaid festooned bandage your daughter so desperately wants to apply to a boo boo that may in fact be 100% fictional.
Half of the injuries I treat at the Acuff house are invisible or simply wounds of sympathy. My oldest daughter will scrape her knee and my 3-year old, realizing the band aid box is open will say, “Yo dad, I’d like to get in on that too. What do you say we put one on, I don’t know, my ankle. Yeah, my ankle, let’s pretend that’s hurt.”
But sometimes the cuts are real, like the day my 5-year old got a scrape on her face playing in the front yard. I rushed in the house and returned with a princess bandage. As I bent down to apply it to her forehead, her eyes filled up with tears and she shrunk back from me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t want to wear that band-aid.” She replied.
“Why? You have a cut, you need a band-aid.” I said.
“I’ll look silly.” She answered.
Other than her sister and her mom, there was no one else in the yard. None of her friends were over, cars were not streaming passed our house and watching us play, the world was pretty empty at that moment. But for the first time I can remember, she felt shame. She had discovered shame. Somewhere, some how, this little 5 year old had learned to be afraid of looking silly. If I was smarter, if I had been better prepared for the transition from little toddler to little girl, I might have asked her this:
“Who told you that you were silly?”
I didn’t though. That question didn’t bloom in my head until much later and I didn’t understand it until I saw God ask a similar question in Genesis 3:11. To me, this is one of the saddest and most profoundly beautiful verses in the entire Bible. Adam and Eve have fallen. The apple is a core. The snake has spoken. The dream appears crushed. As they hide from God under clothes they’ve hastily sewn together, He appears and asks them a simple question:
“Who told you that you were naked?”
There is hurt in God’s voice as He asks this question, but there is also a deep sadness, the sense of a father holding a daughter that has for the first time ever, wrapped herself in shame.
Who told you that you were not enough?
Who told you that I didn’t love you?
Who told you that there was something outside of me you needed?
Who told you that you were ugly?
Who told you that your dream was foolish?
Who told you that you would never have a child?
Who told you that you would never be a father?
Who told you that you weren’t a good mother?
Who told you that without a job you aren’t worth anything?
Who told you that you’ll never know love again?
Who told you that this was all there is?
Who told you that you were naked?
I don’t know when you discovered shame. I don’t know when you discovered that there were
people that might think you are silly or dumb or not a good writer or a husband or a friend. I don’t know what lies you’ve been told by other people or maybe even by yourself.
But in response to what you are hearing from everyone else, God is still asking the question, “Who told you that you were naked?”
And He’s still asking us that question because we are not.
In Christ we are not worthless.
In Christ we are not hopeless.
In Christ we are not dumb or ugly or forgotten.
In Christ we are not naked.
Isaiah 61:10 it says:
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness.
The world may try to tell you a thousand different things today. You might close this post and hear a million declarations of what you are or who you’ll always be, but know this.As unbelievable as it sounds and as much as I never expected to type this sentence on this blog:
You are not naked."
"Do do do do do do dooo" <- Jeopardy theme song
Hello blogging world. My name is Kat, and I am probably among the most impatient people that you'll ever met. Or, I used to be. I'd like to think that I've moved from the top ten most impatient people to somewhere in the top one hundred. Like, ninety-seven. That'd be an improvement I'd be happy with. But regardless, I've been working on it. I haven't had that much of a choice in the matter, actually. God basically started forcing me to be patient.
The Maryville church is going to grow? Yes, but be patient.
And we're going to have a building too? Yes, but be patient.
I might go off and do Your work in a city? Yes, but be patient.
The guy You made for me is out there somewhere? Yes, but be patient.
My music major boys will give their hearts to You someday? Yes, but be patient.
I might one day not be impatient? Yes, but be patient.
Ugh. Fine.
One thing I've had to grapple with in becoming more patient is the contentment. If God tells me to wait, I can either sit there with my arms crossed and a scowl on my face or I can be content, even joyful, praising. Because we are told to wait because God's plan is better than what our impatient selves want. How amazing is God's love that He tells us to wait, that He wants us to experience this amazing thing that He has in store for us, and that He wants us to experience it in a way that will blow our mind, that will bring glory to Him? He could just let us loose, but He loves us, so He asks that we don't. It's kind of like little kids at Christmas. Sure, Mom and Dad could let them open the presents that they've been ogling for weeks, but they ask the kids to wait, because it'll be so much better at the time it's meant for, at Christmas.
John Waller - "While I'm Waiting"
The Maryville church is going to grow? Yes, but be patient.
And we're going to have a building too? Yes, but be patient.
I might go off and do Your work in a city? Yes, but be patient.
The guy You made for me is out there somewhere? Yes, but be patient.
My music major boys will give their hearts to You someday? Yes, but be patient.
I might one day not be impatient? Yes, but be patient.
Ugh. Fine.
One thing I've had to grapple with in becoming more patient is the contentment. If God tells me to wait, I can either sit there with my arms crossed and a scowl on my face or I can be content, even joyful, praising. Because we are told to wait because God's plan is better than what our impatient selves want. How amazing is God's love that He tells us to wait, that He wants us to experience this amazing thing that He has in store for us, and that He wants us to experience it in a way that will blow our mind, that will bring glory to Him? He could just let us loose, but He loves us, so He asks that we don't. It's kind of like little kids at Christmas. Sure, Mom and Dad could let them open the presents that they've been ogling for weeks, but they ask the kids to wait, because it'll be so much better at the time it's meant for, at Christmas.
"But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 41:31
"We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised." Hebrews 6:12
"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9
"A man's heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps." Proverbs 16:9
"This is what the Lord says— your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel: "I am the LORD your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go." Isaiah 48:17This post was and is entirely for myself, to help me remember why I'm waiting and to be joyful in it. God is going to blow my mind and wow my heart with whatever He has in store. And until then, I'll worship Him and praise Him and be content in where I am.
John Waller - "While I'm Waiting"
I will boast
Pride. Ugh, I hate it, and I hate that I struggle with so many different versions of it in so many different areas at so many different times. Selfishness, high expectations, wanting attention, pride in and of itself... it's just ridiculous. Just when I think that God and I have finally taken some big steps towards ridding me of it, I find myself giving me a high five, and we're back at square one. And then there's the problem that, as you grow, the people close to you and supporting you and prodding you on notice and give you a complement or tidbit of encouragement, and you have to immediately seize it so that you can feel encouraged without it seeping into that pool of pride that keeps wanting to grow. Christians are meant to encourage! But sometimes, I think it'd be easier on me if they didn't.
Anyways, my little frustration with pride tonight stems from this:
SUCH a good thing that I'm not Jesus.
But here's the thing - this verse right here... I'm going to share in the glory of Jesus. Pause. The glory of Jesus. I can't even begin to think of what that entails, of how deep and awesome (in the sense of inspiring awe, not being rad and hip and groovy, although it probably is) that must be. It's the glory of the entire world, it's the glory of humanity throughout space and time, it's the glory of the heavens and the spirits, it's the glory of all creation, it's the glory of all thought and emotion, it's the glory of God.
I get to share in that, and that doesn't seem fair. I didn't do a thing. Well, no, back that up. I've done plenty. I've messed up more times that I care to mention or even could, I've promised Him stuff and backed out, I've placed this big giant smear on His message. I lose focus when life gets hectic. I'm selfish and prideful and love attention. I'm this rag-tag girl who isn't worth mentioning, let alone saving. Yes, I've done plenty, and none of it has been good. But I get to share in that incredible and rad and groovy glory, and why?
Only by and through and thanks to grace.
And that truth right there removes all reason and cause for boasting and pride. I don't stand in and share the glory of Christ because of a single thing that I've done. I can stand in the presence of God, and know fully that I have absolutely no right to be there. I have nothing of myself to brag of, to take credit for. The only way that I can stand there is because Jesus made me clean and covers me in a full and indescribable grace! I'll be sharing in the glory of Jesus, but all of the glory goes to Him for even letting me, for even making that possible! My pride is only in Christ, and my attention is on Him and not me, never me! Everything in me should point to the glory of Jesus.
Anyways, my little frustration with pride tonight stems from this:
"He called you to this through our gospel, that you might share in the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ." 2 Thessalonians 2:14If I were Jesus, I wouldn't want to share my glory with anyone. Why should I? I'm God, I came down and became a measly human, I did incredible acts and touched the lives of so many people, I died, I kicked Satan in the face with a steel-toed boot, I came back to life. Me. I'm Jesus, and I did that. The glory is, therefore, mine.
SUCH a good thing that I'm not Jesus.
But here's the thing - this verse right here... I'm going to share in the glory of Jesus. Pause. The glory of Jesus. I can't even begin to think of what that entails, of how deep and awesome (in the sense of inspiring awe, not being rad and hip and groovy, although it probably is) that must be. It's the glory of the entire world, it's the glory of humanity throughout space and time, it's the glory of the heavens and the spirits, it's the glory of all creation, it's the glory of all thought and emotion, it's the glory of God.
I get to share in that, and that doesn't seem fair. I didn't do a thing. Well, no, back that up. I've done plenty. I've messed up more times that I care to mention or even could, I've promised Him stuff and backed out, I've placed this big giant smear on His message. I lose focus when life gets hectic. I'm selfish and prideful and love attention. I'm this rag-tag girl who isn't worth mentioning, let alone saving. Yes, I've done plenty, and none of it has been good. But I get to share in that incredible and rad and groovy glory, and why?
Only by and through and thanks to grace.
And that truth right there removes all reason and cause for boasting and pride. I don't stand in and share the glory of Christ because of a single thing that I've done. I can stand in the presence of God, and know fully that I have absolutely no right to be there. I have nothing of myself to brag of, to take credit for. The only way that I can stand there is because Jesus made me clean and covers me in a full and indescribable grace! I'll be sharing in the glory of Jesus, but all of the glory goes to Him for even letting me, for even making that possible! My pride is only in Christ, and my attention is on Him and not me, never me! Everything in me should point to the glory of Jesus.
Let not the wise man boast in his wisdomThat truth seems so obvious, but I've found that it's good to take a refreshing course in the obvious every now and then because sometimes we lose it in delving into the less obvious. Sometimes we forget one set of lessons we're working on because we've been given another set to add to it. So God, thanks for the reminder. You're so awesome/groovy/rad.
Or let the strong man boast in his strength
Let not the rich man boast in his riches
But let the humble come and give thanks
To the One who made us, the One who saved us
I will boast in the Lord my God
I will boast in the One Who's worthy
I will boast in the Lord my God
I will boast in the One Who's worthy, He's worthy
LifeJournal 5-13-10 (yup, that's my title)
Let's start this story off with this.
I've been in a handful of relationships with guys. Some of them have been good and taught me a lot. Some of them brought a tremendous amount of pain. Towards the last half of my high school career, I started dating a guy that I had liked for what seemed like ages. Things were fine initially but went downhill soon and fast and hard. That relationship ended the summer before I came to college, and I don't have the words to describe to you the kind of person I was at the end of it. The guilt and hurt and anger was more baggage than I knew what to do with. It did bring me back to God, though. I knew that I had completely shifted away from Him, and so, aching and broken, I ran back to Him. I asked for forgiveness time and time again.
That's the start of the problem right there - I kept asking for forgiveness. If anything, at least I was earnest, but I was missing the point. God had welcomed me back. He has forgiven me. All of that mess that made up my past was gone, deleted, erased, forgiven, forgotten. It no longer existed. But I kept bringing it up because I couldn't forget and I couldn't see how I could ever forgive myself. It's a giant slap in God's face - "Yeah, thanks for forgiving me and dying so that none of that sin matters anymore, but if I can't forgive myself, it doesn't really matter." If I were God, I would've gotten really ticked off right about then. But thank goodness I'm not. Anyways, because I couldn't forgive myself and couldn't let those pieces go, that wound just stayed there, open and festering, never healing. It would get close... so close... there were times when I could feel the love of God and the freedom that only He can offer. He had my heart and my life, after all! I had given it to Him and my life was being changed! But I couldn't give up that part of my heart, I couldn't let go of my mistakes, and every time that I experienced God, Satan would throw the guilt right back in my face after a few days.
It wasn't until last summer that I realized that I had never let those pieces go. I hadn't even realized that I was holding on to them. I thought that the guilt and pain was part of the consequences. I mean, God can forgive a man of murder, for example, but he'll still go to jail. I had messed up hardcore, and even though God forgave me, the guilt and anger and disgust was mine to bear. A friend caught me one night when I was struggling with that pain more than ever, and she threw hard nuggets of truth and love in my face. She said that I had to get it out, this secret that I had been trying to hide from the world was just going to continue to eat me up and be a barrier between God and I until I let it go. She was right. But holy crap, I was terrified. As much as I hated the guilt, it had become my security blanket.
I took a deep and shaky breath... and let it all out. I didn't know where or even how to start, but once I did, it just kept coming out - all of the hurt and lies and guilt and disgust and hatred and anger. I didn't realize how deep these roots had grown to reach to, but my friend told me to keep digging, so I did. Afterwards, I was exhausted and had a horrible crying headache and a whole box of used Kleenexes on the floor... but I was light. I felt free! I felt God flooding into me and filling the parts of my heart that those pieces used to occupy! I felt love and could accept it and be lavished by it without feeling guilt!
I am new!
I am clean!
I am pure!
I am beautiful!
I am precious!
I am loved...
That verse is so true. "He made my life complete". It's incredible, so incredible, letting God wash me clean.
And when I look around me, I see so many people still grasping onto their own pieces, carrying around baggage that they don't have to. It breaks my heart, because they were made to be conquerors, to be free, to be vibrant and joyous and full of fire! It's there for them, if they'd just let go and let God heal them. And perhaps that's where I can step in. Maybe they need someone to tell them to let go, like my friend had to tell me. Maybe I can help.
"God made my life complete when I placed all of the pieces before Him. When I cleaned up my act, He gave me a fresh start." 2 Samuel 22:21 MSGThe truth of those few sentences floors me. God will turns lives around, refresh our souls, make our steps right - but we have to let go of the pieces first. We have to let Him. He's not a forceful God when it comes to healing us. He's gentle, oh so gentle. He sees our hurt and how deep our pain is, and He doesn't pry and push us into submission. He waits until we're ready to let go, to be vulnerable, to get rid of the security blanket that has been crippling us more than we probably realize.
I've been in a handful of relationships with guys. Some of them have been good and taught me a lot. Some of them brought a tremendous amount of pain. Towards the last half of my high school career, I started dating a guy that I had liked for what seemed like ages. Things were fine initially but went downhill soon and fast and hard. That relationship ended the summer before I came to college, and I don't have the words to describe to you the kind of person I was at the end of it. The guilt and hurt and anger was more baggage than I knew what to do with. It did bring me back to God, though. I knew that I had completely shifted away from Him, and so, aching and broken, I ran back to Him. I asked for forgiveness time and time again.
That's the start of the problem right there - I kept asking for forgiveness. If anything, at least I was earnest, but I was missing the point. God had welcomed me back. He has forgiven me. All of that mess that made up my past was gone, deleted, erased, forgiven, forgotten. It no longer existed. But I kept bringing it up because I couldn't forget and I couldn't see how I could ever forgive myself. It's a giant slap in God's face - "Yeah, thanks for forgiving me and dying so that none of that sin matters anymore, but if I can't forgive myself, it doesn't really matter." If I were God, I would've gotten really ticked off right about then. But thank goodness I'm not. Anyways, because I couldn't forgive myself and couldn't let those pieces go, that wound just stayed there, open and festering, never healing. It would get close... so close... there were times when I could feel the love of God and the freedom that only He can offer. He had my heart and my life, after all! I had given it to Him and my life was being changed! But I couldn't give up that part of my heart, I couldn't let go of my mistakes, and every time that I experienced God, Satan would throw the guilt right back in my face after a few days.
It wasn't until last summer that I realized that I had never let those pieces go. I hadn't even realized that I was holding on to them. I thought that the guilt and pain was part of the consequences. I mean, God can forgive a man of murder, for example, but he'll still go to jail. I had messed up hardcore, and even though God forgave me, the guilt and anger and disgust was mine to bear. A friend caught me one night when I was struggling with that pain more than ever, and she threw hard nuggets of truth and love in my face. She said that I had to get it out, this secret that I had been trying to hide from the world was just going to continue to eat me up and be a barrier between God and I until I let it go. She was right. But holy crap, I was terrified. As much as I hated the guilt, it had become my security blanket.
I took a deep and shaky breath... and let it all out. I didn't know where or even how to start, but once I did, it just kept coming out - all of the hurt and lies and guilt and disgust and hatred and anger. I didn't realize how deep these roots had grown to reach to, but my friend told me to keep digging, so I did. Afterwards, I was exhausted and had a horrible crying headache and a whole box of used Kleenexes on the floor... but I was light. I felt free! I felt God flooding into me and filling the parts of my heart that those pieces used to occupy! I felt love and could accept it and be lavished by it without feeling guilt!
I am new!
I am clean!
I am pure!
I am beautiful!
I am precious!
I am loved...
That verse is so true. "He made my life complete". It's incredible, so incredible, letting God wash me clean.
And when I look around me, I see so many people still grasping onto their own pieces, carrying around baggage that they don't have to. It breaks my heart, because they were made to be conquerors, to be free, to be vibrant and joyous and full of fire! It's there for them, if they'd just let go and let God heal them. And perhaps that's where I can step in. Maybe they need someone to tell them to let go, like my friend had to tell me. Maybe I can help.
Redemption is so beautiful.
So far, my early morning (ugh) government and politics class has taught me this:
There's that maxim that so many people cling to when it comes to really throwing your heart into Jesus' lap - "I'm a good person. I don't do bad things, so I'll get to heaven." And I know and you know that that's a far cry from the truth that absolutely nothing that we could ever do could ever save us. But it's that first part that I find intriguing. "I'm a good person." How does one define that? What makes someone a good person? By today's culture standards, if a person doesn't drink, doesn't smoke or do any drugs, gets their homework done, obeys their parents, has never been arrested, doesn't impregnate anyone or become pregnant themselves, has aspirations, never cusses, and goes to church on Sunday in pressed pants then they're a good person. That list isn't written down anywhere, but everyone adheres to it. But really... even if you fit that mold, does that make you a good person? When you think about it, nobody came out of the womb thinking to themselves, "Oh, I'm not going to drink or shoot up or have illicit sex or become incarcerated! Ewww, no." Look at any two-year-old! We are hard-wired to want to break rules. Parents train their kids to behave, to follow the rules. To put it another way, parents train their kids to be good. They teach us what good means. We all had to be taught to be good. It doesn't come naturally. If good came naturally, then what would the point of police be, for instance? But face it, everyone drives a little bit differently when there's a cop in the rearview mirror. We're not naturally good. We want to bend the rules.
And if someone bucks that system, does that make them a bad person? Is someone who has never committed murder better or more developed or something that someone who is on death row for genocide? Some book I've read somewhere made a really going point with that, and I wish I could remember what book it was so I could look this up and do it justice. Anyways, Rwanda. I think we all know what happened there. There was this huge political power struggle between the Tutsi and Hutu tribes following the assassination of the president of Rwanda, and long story short, within a mere hundred days following that assassination, approximately 800,000 people were mass murdered. Eight hundred thousand. That was 20% of the Rwandan population. And almost every woman of the Tutsi tribe was raped. Multiple times. Of course, there was media coverage, and people would have a hard time wrapping their minds around it. I mean, I can't! Oh, and throw in the fact that in all actuality, genocide is happening all throughout Africa. Let's take Congo. There are eight tribes in Congo, and each one is at war with the other seven, killing and raping numbers that have already surpassed two million. And you have to wonder initially how people could do something like that. Then ask yourself - could you do something like that? All of us would quickly say no, of course not, I couldn't murder or rape people. But what's the difference between the war-ravaged Africans and the comfortable middle-class American? They're human. We're human. Why do we and how can we view ourselves as any better than them? So either yes, we could murder and rape, or no, but then there's alot of explaining to do because that would be implying that we're more evolved than them, that we're "better" humans. And that's ridiculous. So yes. We - you, me, everyone - are capable of the atrocities that we see in the media.
I hate that. And that is our sin nature, right there. Sometimes the sin nature is hard to see because we've grown up in this society of checks and balances (ugh, stupid government terminology...) where if you don't do good, you get punished. But really, that doesn't make the people who don't break the rules good. It makes them subdued. And the fact that that gnawing sin nature is inherently there makes us have to face the facts - the problem with the world isn't power mongering or hunger or murder or politics. The problem is us. The problem is me. The problem is the fact that I am hard-wired to want to do wrong. Doing good and moral things is like trying to swim against the current.
But here's another truth - we are designed for good. That's why all of the wrong that we do leaves us broken and sputtering for air. We can't thrive on wrong. We can hardly scrape by on wrong. God made us as beautiful pinnacles of His creation, and He didn't create us to run on wrong. The only way for us to live is to find something to combat that sin nature that we have, and that sin nature is powerful, so what we combat it with has to be epic, and we can't do it ourselves because we want that sin nature, even if we don't want to admit it. We can be taught good, but that only gets us so far. We have to be changed. Our hearts have to be completely revamped. Our mindset has to be replaced.
And that's where Jesus comes in.
Jesus is so beautiful, grace is so beautiful, love is so beautiful.
Redemption is so beautiful.
God comes in and soothes us. He sees our self-inflicted hurt and pain, He sees the damage that we do even though we don't mean to, and He loves on us. We are His children! I don't have kids, but I have heard from so many parents that one of the hardest things is seeing your child be in pain, and I believe it. Imagine how much it hurts God, the absolute perfect father! His heart breaks, and He comes and hugs us and heals us. And if we will admit that we are a mess, if we tell God that our heart is a wreck and ask Him to take it - oh, He will! He is the most powerful - so much more powerful than any wrong we have in us. And He transforms it! He fills it with a Spirit and love that is so incredible and so unlike anything the world could ever offer!!
Our sin nature can't win against that, against God's creation thriving on Him! It is unchangeable. It is a once-and-for-all switch of direction. And as much as our heart ached when it was trying to live with that sin, how much more does our heart explode with joy when it's been made complete?! Like I said, it's beautiful.
- I couldn't really care any less than I already do about how government is set up or how amendments can be added to the Constitutions.
- The entirety of the actual lecture could be done in 45 minutes if the professor would stop going off on tangents.
- I can keep my sanity during those tangents by doing something else (i.e. writing, thinking, doodling, eating PopTarts).
There's that maxim that so many people cling to when it comes to really throwing your heart into Jesus' lap - "I'm a good person. I don't do bad things, so I'll get to heaven." And I know and you know that that's a far cry from the truth that absolutely nothing that we could ever do could ever save us. But it's that first part that I find intriguing. "I'm a good person." How does one define that? What makes someone a good person? By today's culture standards, if a person doesn't drink, doesn't smoke or do any drugs, gets their homework done, obeys their parents, has never been arrested, doesn't impregnate anyone or become pregnant themselves, has aspirations, never cusses, and goes to church on Sunday in pressed pants then they're a good person. That list isn't written down anywhere, but everyone adheres to it. But really... even if you fit that mold, does that make you a good person? When you think about it, nobody came out of the womb thinking to themselves, "Oh, I'm not going to drink or shoot up or have illicit sex or become incarcerated! Ewww, no." Look at any two-year-old! We are hard-wired to want to break rules. Parents train their kids to behave, to follow the rules. To put it another way, parents train their kids to be good. They teach us what good means. We all had to be taught to be good. It doesn't come naturally. If good came naturally, then what would the point of police be, for instance? But face it, everyone drives a little bit differently when there's a cop in the rearview mirror. We're not naturally good. We want to bend the rules.
And if someone bucks that system, does that make them a bad person? Is someone who has never committed murder better or more developed or something that someone who is on death row for genocide? Some book I've read somewhere made a really going point with that, and I wish I could remember what book it was so I could look this up and do it justice. Anyways, Rwanda. I think we all know what happened there. There was this huge political power struggle between the Tutsi and Hutu tribes following the assassination of the president of Rwanda, and long story short, within a mere hundred days following that assassination, approximately 800,000 people were mass murdered. Eight hundred thousand. That was 20% of the Rwandan population. And almost every woman of the Tutsi tribe was raped. Multiple times. Of course, there was media coverage, and people would have a hard time wrapping their minds around it. I mean, I can't! Oh, and throw in the fact that in all actuality, genocide is happening all throughout Africa. Let's take Congo. There are eight tribes in Congo, and each one is at war with the other seven, killing and raping numbers that have already surpassed two million. And you have to wonder initially how people could do something like that. Then ask yourself - could you do something like that? All of us would quickly say no, of course not, I couldn't murder or rape people. But what's the difference between the war-ravaged Africans and the comfortable middle-class American? They're human. We're human. Why do we and how can we view ourselves as any better than them? So either yes, we could murder and rape, or no, but then there's alot of explaining to do because that would be implying that we're more evolved than them, that we're "better" humans. And that's ridiculous. So yes. We - you, me, everyone - are capable of the atrocities that we see in the media.
I hate that. And that is our sin nature, right there. Sometimes the sin nature is hard to see because we've grown up in this society of checks and balances (ugh, stupid government terminology...) where if you don't do good, you get punished. But really, that doesn't make the people who don't break the rules good. It makes them subdued. And the fact that that gnawing sin nature is inherently there makes us have to face the facts - the problem with the world isn't power mongering or hunger or murder or politics. The problem is us. The problem is me. The problem is the fact that I am hard-wired to want to do wrong. Doing good and moral things is like trying to swim against the current.
But here's another truth - we are designed for good. That's why all of the wrong that we do leaves us broken and sputtering for air. We can't thrive on wrong. We can hardly scrape by on wrong. God made us as beautiful pinnacles of His creation, and He didn't create us to run on wrong. The only way for us to live is to find something to combat that sin nature that we have, and that sin nature is powerful, so what we combat it with has to be epic, and we can't do it ourselves because we want that sin nature, even if we don't want to admit it. We can be taught good, but that only gets us so far. We have to be changed. Our hearts have to be completely revamped. Our mindset has to be replaced.
And that's where Jesus comes in.
Jesus is so beautiful, grace is so beautiful, love is so beautiful.
Redemption is so beautiful.
God comes in and soothes us. He sees our self-inflicted hurt and pain, He sees the damage that we do even though we don't mean to, and He loves on us. We are His children! I don't have kids, but I have heard from so many parents that one of the hardest things is seeing your child be in pain, and I believe it. Imagine how much it hurts God, the absolute perfect father! His heart breaks, and He comes and hugs us and heals us. And if we will admit that we are a mess, if we tell God that our heart is a wreck and ask Him to take it - oh, He will! He is the most powerful - so much more powerful than any wrong we have in us. And He transforms it! He fills it with a Spirit and love that is so incredible and so unlike anything the world could ever offer!!
Our sin nature can't win against that, against God's creation thriving on Him! It is unchangeable. It is a once-and-for-all switch of direction. And as much as our heart ached when it was trying to live with that sin, how much more does our heart explode with joy when it's been made complete?! Like I said, it's beautiful.
My heart can't smile more.
Today, I have nothing else to say, but this -
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.
Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
When we've been here ten thousand yearsThat is all. And that's all that is needed.
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.
Happy Jedi Day!!
This will not be deep or introspective or thought-provoking. Just fair warning. =) If you're looking for something like that, go check out one of the blogs I have linked on the right. If you're rather apathetic and aren't really in the mood to read anything in particular, then you'll probably be okay.
I finished my second day of Subway training today. I think I'm going to like working there. The lunch rush is ridiculous and overwhelms me entirely, but I'm enjoying it. I've met both supervisors/managers so far. Tammy, the main one, seems a little stressed most of the time, but Sam is a blast and started the actual training today (yesterday, I just kind of got thrown to the sharks), and I like her. I've met four other girls that I'll be working with. Sarah really took me under her wing yesterday and everything in me wants to get to know her better because... well, you know those times when you meet someone, and something in your soul just clicks? Yeah. It was that. Sarah and I are meant to be friends. And Emily today is ornery and loud and boisterous, and extremely helpful to me as I'm trying to figure stuff out. I've come to realize something, though. The other two girls that I've met scared me at first, and I've been trying to figure out why. And it's because they're quiet. Why does that always unsettle me so much? When I get to talking to them a bit, they're just as awesome and friendly as any other person, but they intimidate me at first. That bothers me. I talk a lot, I crack jokes a lot, I ramble at times... is that more or less just a security blanket for me?
Oh, but here's an awesome story. The summer interns went treasure hunting on campus during the summer, and one of my clues matched up pretty closely with this guy by the pond. And so we went and talked to him, and he wouldn't let any of his walls down or admit to anything, but you could see it on his face. When I asked him if there was anything going on with his parents and his relationship with them, his face froze. But he didn't want prayer and didn't want to talk, so we left. Before we got too far, he called us back. Yay! And he asked us to pray for this girl he knew. Her name rang a bell, and I did pray for her for a while, but then I sort of stopped. Anyways, during orientation last weekend, guess is who is the other new girl working at Subway? Her! That girl! Ohmigosh, is my God great or what? That He brought back into my life this little occurrence from so many months ago... coincidences don't exist. God is going to do something, and I don't know what it is or what part I play in it, but my heart jumped and leaped and danced!
In other news, I'm an adult. I guess. I'm moved into a house, and it's pretty much done, actually. I went grocery shopping with my best friend. My best friend enjoys cooking a lot. Both of us enjoy decorating a lot. It made for a pretty pricey adventure, and we're not even done yet! But it'll all be worthwhile in the end. It's so weird, this whole growing up thing... and it's scary to think that I'm halfway done with college. I've been nothing but a student for years. That'll end soon. Creeeeepppy. And super exhilerating.
I'm bringing my family to church in St. Joseph some Sunday in June this summer. I'm nervous. If you'd like something to pray about, that'd be it. Along with patience. I feel like I've matured and gotten more patient alot in the past year. It's definitely something God's been working on. But it's still hard at times, especially with all of these daydreams that I have stored up.
May the fourth be with you.
And also with you. Amen.
I finished my second day of Subway training today. I think I'm going to like working there. The lunch rush is ridiculous and overwhelms me entirely, but I'm enjoying it. I've met both supervisors/managers so far. Tammy, the main one, seems a little stressed most of the time, but Sam is a blast and started the actual training today (yesterday, I just kind of got thrown to the sharks), and I like her. I've met four other girls that I'll be working with. Sarah really took me under her wing yesterday and everything in me wants to get to know her better because... well, you know those times when you meet someone, and something in your soul just clicks? Yeah. It was that. Sarah and I are meant to be friends. And Emily today is ornery and loud and boisterous, and extremely helpful to me as I'm trying to figure stuff out. I've come to realize something, though. The other two girls that I've met scared me at first, and I've been trying to figure out why. And it's because they're quiet. Why does that always unsettle me so much? When I get to talking to them a bit, they're just as awesome and friendly as any other person, but they intimidate me at first. That bothers me. I talk a lot, I crack jokes a lot, I ramble at times... is that more or less just a security blanket for me?
Oh, but here's an awesome story. The summer interns went treasure hunting on campus during the summer, and one of my clues matched up pretty closely with this guy by the pond. And so we went and talked to him, and he wouldn't let any of his walls down or admit to anything, but you could see it on his face. When I asked him if there was anything going on with his parents and his relationship with them, his face froze. But he didn't want prayer and didn't want to talk, so we left. Before we got too far, he called us back. Yay! And he asked us to pray for this girl he knew. Her name rang a bell, and I did pray for her for a while, but then I sort of stopped. Anyways, during orientation last weekend, guess is who is the other new girl working at Subway? Her! That girl! Ohmigosh, is my God great or what? That He brought back into my life this little occurrence from so many months ago... coincidences don't exist. God is going to do something, and I don't know what it is or what part I play in it, but my heart jumped and leaped and danced!
In other news, I'm an adult. I guess. I'm moved into a house, and it's pretty much done, actually. I went grocery shopping with my best friend. My best friend enjoys cooking a lot. Both of us enjoy decorating a lot. It made for a pretty pricey adventure, and we're not even done yet! But it'll all be worthwhile in the end. It's so weird, this whole growing up thing... and it's scary to think that I'm halfway done with college. I've been nothing but a student for years. That'll end soon. Creeeeepppy. And super exhilerating.
I'm bringing my family to church in St. Joseph some Sunday in June this summer. I'm nervous. If you'd like something to pray about, that'd be it. Along with patience. I feel like I've matured and gotten more patient alot in the past year. It's definitely something God's been working on. But it's still hard at times, especially with all of these daydreams that I have stored up.
RRandom picture that popped up on Flickr. Felt like it felt the random post motif.
May the fourth be with you.
And also with you. Amen.
Oh, how He loves us, oh
Something hit me today. It's something I guess I had forgotten, but hadn't realized that I had forgotten it until I was reminded. It's something that seems so obvious, so cliche, so overused, so Sunday school. But I think I had forgotten it.
Jesus loves me.
... I know, right? Really, Kat? You had to be reminded of that? Sheesh. I get it.
But you don't know what you don't remember, because you don't remember it. I've been exasperated, running on high emotions and empty attempts, and really just faking it for a couple of weeks now. Life got incredibly busy and high stress, and I tried to do it on my own. Something inside of me ached. I was tired, I was mentally worn out, I felt spiritually disconnected. And I would pray, but I couldn't hear God. I would read the Bible, but it wasn't bringing me joy. I didn't know what really to do, but my schedule kept moving, so I kept moving along with it. Life is so hard when you can't find your joy.
To put it simply, it seemed like God was just kind of watching but not doing anything. It seemed like He was content to just let me go.
That is such a lie.
When I can't do it anymore, God can. When I fall down in a heap of tears and frustrations, I'm falling into God whether I realize it or not. And I can fall again and again and again. I can yell and cry again and again and again. I can give up again and again and again. I can and I have and I will. But that doesn't bother God, that doesn't discourage God.
Because God loves me.
What made this hit is the chapter I'm reading in book study. It's about Elijah and how grace doesn't give up, and Elijah's story is exactly how I've been feeling. Empty, used, discouraged, exhausted, done. And then, it talked about intimacy.
But I'm more than nothing, I am the love of God. I am more than useless (ha, Relient K song); He has plans for me and will use me despite my past failures. I can do things right because I do things with God.
I just can't stop saying that.
He loves me.
Holy crap, He loves me.
Jesus loves me.
... I know, right? Really, Kat? You had to be reminded of that? Sheesh. I get it.
But you don't know what you don't remember, because you don't remember it. I've been exasperated, running on high emotions and empty attempts, and really just faking it for a couple of weeks now. Life got incredibly busy and high stress, and I tried to do it on my own. Something inside of me ached. I was tired, I was mentally worn out, I felt spiritually disconnected. And I would pray, but I couldn't hear God. I would read the Bible, but it wasn't bringing me joy. I didn't know what really to do, but my schedule kept moving, so I kept moving along with it. Life is so hard when you can't find your joy.
To put it simply, it seemed like God was just kind of watching but not doing anything. It seemed like He was content to just let me go.
That is such a lie.
When I can't do it anymore, God can. When I fall down in a heap of tears and frustrations, I'm falling into God whether I realize it or not. And I can fall again and again and again. I can yell and cry again and again and again. I can give up again and again and again. I can and I have and I will. But that doesn't bother God, that doesn't discourage God.
Because God loves me.
What made this hit is the chapter I'm reading in book study. It's about Elijah and how grace doesn't give up, and Elijah's story is exactly how I've been feeling. Empty, used, discouraged, exhausted, done. And then, it talked about intimacy.
"He rescued me because He delighted in me." Psalm 18:19To steal the lines from the book that made it all hit, "delight" is synonymous with: laugh, smile, get a kick out of, hug oneself, rave, bask in, enjoy, wallow, have fun, exhilarate, relish, elate, thrill, ravish, intoxicate, entrance, enrapture, purr. I love words, that's not exactly a secret. To take each of those delicious words and think of them in the light that God views me like that... He is entranced by me. He is thrilled by me. He is exhilarated by me. He delights in me.
It's the gentle whisper from God, "I love you. I am delighted with you. You make My heart sing whenever I see you.ME??!?! Seriously, God? I am nothing, I am useless, I can't do anything right.
But I'm more than nothing, I am the love of God. I am more than useless (ha, Relient K song); He has plans for me and will use me despite my past failures. I can do things right because I do things with God.
No matter what you do, you are always His delightful child. His thoughts about you have never changed and never will.Jesus loves me. LOVES me. I can't wrap my mind around that. I've melted. To think that He loves me - ME - when I've been so wrapped up in my life, when I've fallen over and over again lately, when I've lost my footing on truths... but He loves me.
I just can't stop saying that.
He loves me.
Holy crap, He loves me.
Hmmm, freshman me knew what she was talking about
It is 1:48 AM. I have a baby shower and possibly a river walk tomorrow (and by tomorrow, I mean today). I am, in no way, a night owl. I should be dead to the world right now. But I'm not even asleep yet. It has been storming outside. This definitely qualified as a thunderstorm. I can't sleep, and it's not because I'm scared. It's because I absolutely adore thunderstorms. The gorgeous, rolling clouds today have busted into thunderheads full of noise and lightning and wind and rain and even some hail, and I love it. So, because of a wonderful day full of final classes and plans for moving into a house and oing stage make-up and being productive and thunderstorms, I am giddy and joyful and will not being going to sleep any time soon. I have no idea what I'm going to write, but I want to write, so voila, here we are.
You know how Mom always said that time goes faster the older you get? I said she was crazy. And, like most of the things that she said when I was little, I know understand what she meant, and I'm not even old yet. I finished my last class of my sophomore year at approximately 1:34 PM today, and it hit me - I'm almost halfway through with college. Wait, what? Didn't I just start? And while freshman year seems a lifetime away, it seems like this year just started.
It's crazy.
It's scary.
It's exhilerating.
It's... weird.
In some cases, I still feel like the seven-year-old climbing trees. Heck, I climbed a tree yesterday. In some cases, high school doesn't feel that far away. In most cases, I feel like I have learned and grown so much more in the past two years than I ever thought I would, and I'm not even done yet. I have no idea what kind of woman I'll be when I graduate.
Two years ago, I wrote a list on Facebook of things I had already learned in college. I think I'm going to spend the rest of my awake time adding on to that list.
Where there's a hill, that's the way.
Never ask for seasonings on fried rice.
Earplugs will survive a washer and dryer cycle.
You can't teach an old TV new tricks.
The straps on Wii remotes don't always safeguard against dented walls.
Cash serves little to no purpose.
Nothing is open on Sundays/any day that I have time off.
Sunburns are beautiful.
A heavy backpack will even out the bass drum aches.
iTunes is totally retarded.
Something will always be forgotten in the shower, so plan for return trips.
Anything in the Bookstore can be found at a half price someone on the square.
Lanyards are handy, but not around your neck, please.
I know nothing about technology.
Sweatpants pwn any other kind of clothing wear.
I'm ugly. =)
Circle buildings do, in fact, have sides.
Walking alone after hours is definitely scary.
My calves are getting ferocious.
Planners serve a definite and useful purpose.
Thesauri pwn televised wrestling matches.
Showers are akin to acupuncture.
I'll probably get lung cancer by entering and exiting the Hall.
I am a compulsive "misplacer".
It is impossible to shave my legs standing up without nicking myself.
The music department has it's own time zone, roughly a week later than reality.
I'm going to love it here.
If I bring my umbrella, it won't rain.
Signing up for the studio Tuesday night at 8:00 is futile.
Nobody will appreciate my poufs.
High-quality earplugs are just as easy to lose as the cheap ones.
I should get "Famuermeuermer" tatted on my arm like cool football players do.
Gullibility is a sign of an mental disability.
The words I mispronounce and the stupid things I say make me a legend.
A three year losing streak CAN be broken.
Working shower drains and odorless kitchen sinks are taken for granted.
My name will one day be Kat Quinto or Kat Ventimiglia.
The electric bill is higher because I live here.
I will leave my flash drive in the lab once a week.
Pterodactyl.
Sidewalks will be cleared of snow immediately after your first class.
There is nothing cooler than nearly grown men playing Pokemon.
My bedroom is where we congregate to chat about nothing at all.
Mulled cider apparently smells like rotten pumpkins.
Things rot in the vegetable drawer.
There are not enough opportunities to wear show level eye makeup.
I want to be on What Not To Wear just for a makeover.
Due to hair dying, I now have to buy a door.
Painting walls the color of masking tape was genius.
Name any creature Sugarplum and it will be evil and die.
My friends now know I'm crazy and nod their heads and smile.
Something is always beautiful walking across campus.
I actually understand music theory.
Scissors disappear.
Hannah Montana.
The love/hate relationship between snare drum and I has shifted more towards love.
Winks fluster me.
Two laptop exchanges later, and my files still get corrupted.
I was right - I do love it here.
You know how Mom always said that time goes faster the older you get? I said she was crazy. And, like most of the things that she said when I was little, I know understand what she meant, and I'm not even old yet. I finished my last class of my sophomore year at approximately 1:34 PM today, and it hit me - I'm almost halfway through with college. Wait, what? Didn't I just start? And while freshman year seems a lifetime away, it seems like this year just started.
It's crazy.
It's scary.
It's exhilerating.
It's... weird.
In some cases, I still feel like the seven-year-old climbing trees. Heck, I climbed a tree yesterday. In some cases, high school doesn't feel that far away. In most cases, I feel like I have learned and grown so much more in the past two years than I ever thought I would, and I'm not even done yet. I have no idea what kind of woman I'll be when I graduate.
Two years ago, I wrote a list on Facebook of things I had already learned in college. I think I'm going to spend the rest of my awake time adding on to that list.
Where there's a hill, that's the way.
Never ask for seasonings on fried rice.
Earplugs will survive a washer and dryer cycle.
You can't teach an old TV new tricks.
The straps on Wii remotes don't always safeguard against dented walls.
Cash serves little to no purpose.
Nothing is open on Sundays/any day that I have time off.
Sunburns are beautiful.
A heavy backpack will even out the bass drum aches.
iTunes is totally retarded.
Something will always be forgotten in the shower, so plan for return trips.
Anything in the Bookstore can be found at a half price someone on the square.
Lanyards are handy, but not around your neck, please.
I know nothing about technology.
Sweatpants pwn any other kind of clothing wear.
I'm ugly. =)
Circle buildings do, in fact, have sides.
Walking alone after hours is definitely scary.
My calves are getting ferocious.
Planners serve a definite and useful purpose.
Thesauri pwn televised wrestling matches.
Showers are akin to acupuncture.
I'll probably get lung cancer by entering and exiting the Hall.
I am a compulsive "misplacer".
It is impossible to shave my legs standing up without nicking myself.
The music department has it's own time zone, roughly a week later than reality.
I'm going to love it here.
If I bring my umbrella, it won't rain.
Signing up for the studio Tuesday night at 8:00 is futile.
Nobody will appreciate my poufs.
High-quality earplugs are just as easy to lose as the cheap ones.
I should get "Famuermeuermer" tatted on my arm like cool football players do.
Gullibility is a sign of an mental disability.
The words I mispronounce and the stupid things I say make me a legend.
A three year losing streak CAN be broken.
Working shower drains and odorless kitchen sinks are taken for granted.
My name will one day be Kat Quinto or Kat Ventimiglia.
The electric bill is higher because I live here.
I will leave my flash drive in the lab once a week.
Pterodactyl.
Sidewalks will be cleared of snow immediately after your first class.
There is nothing cooler than nearly grown men playing Pokemon.
My bedroom is where we congregate to chat about nothing at all.
Mulled cider apparently smells like rotten pumpkins.
Things rot in the vegetable drawer.
There are not enough opportunities to wear show level eye makeup.
I want to be on What Not To Wear just for a makeover.
Due to hair dying, I now have to buy a door.
Painting walls the color of masking tape was genius.
Name any creature Sugarplum and it will be evil and die.
My friends now know I'm crazy and nod their heads and smile.
Something is always beautiful walking across campus.
I actually understand music theory.
Scissors disappear.
Hannah Montana.
The love/hate relationship between snare drum and I has shifted more towards love.
Winks fluster me.
Two laptop exchanges later, and my files still get corrupted.
I was right - I do love it here.
Walking on water
Northwest is an absolutely gorgeous place during the spring. Everything sizzles with color. I think that Crayola probably discovered green and blue and purple here. It just so happens that the majority of my classes are in rooms where the windows face directly out towards the most scenic part of campus. There is the kissing bridge with all sorts of redbuds and dogwoods around it so that it's like someone just plopped down white and pink whipped cream from the sky. You can see the top of the belltower, which blends into the clouds of the most cerulean sky ever. And then, there's the pond. It is crystal.. When the sunsets, you can see everything in it. As if that view in itself wasn't distracting enough on a daily basis, there is also a fountain in that pond that got turned out last week. The instant that that fountain was turned on sealed the death wish on my focus and my grades. I was giddy. I texted and tweeted to the annoyance level with my excitement.
I was out by the pond last night with my best friends, having a good time, wading our feet out over the edge, lying on our backs, singing and just enjoying ourselves. I forget how it came up, although I sort of have an ADHD set of mental processes so it might have just come up out of nowhere, but I started thinking about Jesus and Peter walking on water. What that would've felt like, how much of a liberating rush that must've been, how incredible Jesus is, how much faith it took to step out of the boat. A faith with a power. And a faith that also came with doubt.
There is a power in living in the Spirit, and I'm not just saying that metaphorically. There is actual power. God is divine and beyond human standards, and the Spirit of God is living inside of me and every other person who has let Him in and lives in Him. This is in no way a secret! It's mingled throughout the Bible in plain sight.
It didn't take spells and chants. It wasn't done by sinless people or people who were extremely out of the ordinary. It never has taken any of that. It takes faith. Faith the size of a mustard seed. Personally, I have never seen a mustard seed, but apparently, it's small. So, let's see... faith the size of end of a pin, faith the size of the end of a strand of hair, faith the size a grain of pollen. Just a small amount of faith can do extraordinary things. We can, here and now and today, do all sorts of incredible things because God lives in us! "Nothing will be impossible for you"... and it's true!
So... what stops us?
Fear. Uncertainty. Doubt. Sure, we are told that we have the power to restore sight and more, but just pause and think of how intimidating and disconcerting that would be to have a crowd of people watching you while you pray and ask God to restore that sight. What if it doesn't happen? What then? Does that mean that God is less real? Does that mean that I don't have actual faith? Is God disappointed in me? I can only imagine how terrifying that would be. What if I had stood up and taken a step out onto the pond last night, and fell in? What if people who were challenging God were there? The onslaught of uncertainty and doubt would cripple me... Being told that we have that power is one thing. Acting out in that faith is another.
It's not like if we haven't healed someone then we must not have faith or something. It's not that at all. The faith is there because God has caused it. Faith is a gift from God, freely given and always there. Fear doesn't negate faith. The faith is there, the salvation is there, the grace is there regardless of any doubts that we may wrestle with. But, even as the Bible says, our faith rests in believing in something that we have never seen, it rests in hope. Our heart and soul know that it is true, and at times so does our mind, but there are other times when reason causes us to question what we know is true. A friend of mine brought up a verse a few weeks ago at church...
Every single Christian has doubts. Every. Single. One. And there are going to be times when that doubt seems crippling. But since when is doubt bigger than the power of God? Never. It isn't. And the power of God runs through me, is part of me. Stepping over the doubt and out in a faith in the most powerful and perfect God, I can heal the sick, I can feed the multitude, I can help the lame jump. I can even walk across the pond. And maybe someday, if it's in God's plan and the Spirit is pushing me that direction... I will.
I was out by the pond last night with my best friends, having a good time, wading our feet out over the edge, lying on our backs, singing and just enjoying ourselves. I forget how it came up, although I sort of have an ADHD set of mental processes so it might have just come up out of nowhere, but I started thinking about Jesus and Peter walking on water. What that would've felt like, how much of a liberating rush that must've been, how incredible Jesus is, how much faith it took to step out of the boat. A faith with a power. And a faith that also came with doubt.
There is a power in living in the Spirit, and I'm not just saying that metaphorically. There is actual power. God is divine and beyond human standards, and the Spirit of God is living inside of me and every other person who has let Him in and lives in Him. This is in no way a secret! It's mingled throughout the Bible in plain sight.
"He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."" Matthew 17:20
"I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father." John 14:12Jesus just said that, in our faith, we would be able to do not only all of the miraculous things that have been recorded about Him, but more. More! Jesus healed lepers, paraplegics, blind, deaf, mute... He cast out demons... He raised people from death... He walked on water, turned water into wine, caused trees to die, fed thousands of people... and He's saying that we can do that? And do even more? Does that not just floor you? And there's proof that that was true! His disciples were sent out to cast out demons, and did. The book of Acts has numerous stories of people acting out in faith to raise people from death and heal people from various diseases.
It didn't take spells and chants. It wasn't done by sinless people or people who were extremely out of the ordinary. It never has taken any of that. It takes faith. Faith the size of a mustard seed. Personally, I have never seen a mustard seed, but apparently, it's small. So, let's see... faith the size of end of a pin, faith the size of the end of a strand of hair, faith the size a grain of pollen. Just a small amount of faith can do extraordinary things. We can, here and now and today, do all sorts of incredible things because God lives in us! "Nothing will be impossible for you"... and it's true!
So... what stops us?
Fear. Uncertainty. Doubt. Sure, we are told that we have the power to restore sight and more, but just pause and think of how intimidating and disconcerting that would be to have a crowd of people watching you while you pray and ask God to restore that sight. What if it doesn't happen? What then? Does that mean that God is less real? Does that mean that I don't have actual faith? Is God disappointed in me? I can only imagine how terrifying that would be. What if I had stood up and taken a step out onto the pond last night, and fell in? What if people who were challenging God were there? The onslaught of uncertainty and doubt would cripple me... Being told that we have that power is one thing. Acting out in that faith is another.
It's not like if we haven't healed someone then we must not have faith or something. It's not that at all. The faith is there because God has caused it. Faith is a gift from God, freely given and always there. Fear doesn't negate faith. The faith is there, the salvation is there, the grace is there regardless of any doubts that we may wrestle with. But, even as the Bible says, our faith rests in believing in something that we have never seen, it rests in hope. Our heart and soul know that it is true, and at times so does our mind, but there are other times when reason causes us to question what we know is true. A friend of mine brought up a verse a few weeks ago at church...
"...But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us." " 'If you can'?" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes." Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"" Mark 9:22b-24Faith can be strong even when doubt is there. In fact, I would go so far as to say that faith is strong because doubt is there, because if there weren't any questions, the faith itself might not be running very deep. Doubts sturdy a faith. How wack is that? The very emotion that shakes our faith serves to sturdy it, because the faith is true and is real. It's like when you're working out. All you're doing is tearing up muscles, but in the end, it makes them stronger. It's the same with doubt. It shakes a faith, but in the end, it makes it stronger. So, really... you could consider doubt to be a gift from God too. Without it, we're sort of like brainwashed robots, just saying we believe something and not delving into it, not hitting hard patches, not being forced to act on it. With it, we're vibrant because our faith is personal.
Every single Christian has doubts. Every. Single. One. And there are going to be times when that doubt seems crippling. But since when is doubt bigger than the power of God? Never. It isn't. And the power of God runs through me, is part of me. Stepping over the doubt and out in a faith in the most powerful and perfect God, I can heal the sick, I can feed the multitude, I can help the lame jump. I can even walk across the pond. And maybe someday, if it's in God's plan and the Spirit is pushing me that direction... I will.
"the constant struggle to believe / leaves me pretending to be free / I break out of it when I see / the same power that flows through You / washes also over me"
That's strength
This week has been ridiculous. I went into the week knowing that, with formal on the other end of it, it would be a long week. But I had no idea that formal would completely blow up in my face, that I would check my checking to find that I had less than $100 to my name, that I would find out all sorts of hurtful things that were said in my music circles due to the formal stuff, that I would get a call today and find out that I actually overdrafted again and actually am broke, that my computer would slowly start corrupting all of my homework and organizational documents, that the meeting tonight would last too long for me to get to book study and be with friends that I miss so much, that I'm going to be juggling a concert and a wedding on the same evening. I am done. I am spent. I was out of my own strength two hours into Monday, and I've been on my knees since then. What else can I do? I can't do anything in my own power, regardless of how hard I try. My best effort is nothing, absolutely nothing - without God. I have been knocked over and forced to rely on God every single hour to get through and not lose my mind. I have been pushed to a point that I think is my maximum, and then had more piled on top to where the only way that I can even think about making it through is by leaning completely on the strength of God. I have had to take a step back over and over again to get perspective. And it's in one of those breather times when perspective comes back into focus that I'm sitting here right now. Waiting for four dozen delicious cookies to cool, and having my mind cooled by God with a dose of perspective.
I'm not usually a person who enjoys the Old Testament. A lot of times, my heart has a hard time grasping the loving God I usually see with the same God telling His people to completely wipe out civilizations, or muddling through prophecies that just seem to make no sense (Elijah, anyone?), or all of those rules and sacrifices. I understand the purpose and necessity of the Old Testament. It's just that when I sit down and decide to sink my teeth into some Bible, I'll flip to a Gospel that brings hope or some New Testament letter that breeds boldness and encouragement or a Psalm, which is technically in the Old Testament, but meh. But that's exactly where I've been finding my perspective! Whereas the epistles are letters that speak like a conversation and the Psalms are poetry that show just how much emotion a person can have when it comes to God, the Old Testament is full of stories, full of characters, full of little fifty verse plot lines and name drops, and - get this - full of people. Real people. Actual people who actually lived out these stories and actually existed. These aren't fairy tales or made-up dramas. This is real. And I guess that hasn't always clicked for me. I grew up knowing the stories and coloring the coloring pages and learning the songs. They became just stories for me, just the same as any Disney movie or Robinson Crusoe. The potency got lost somewhere along the way.
There's a story in Judges that I don't think I've ever read before, or at least I've done nothing more than skim over it like is, sadly, kind of typical. I was reading it the other day, and for some reason, it jumped. It was about this man named Jephthah, and I won't go into the entire thing (it's Judges 11, by the way), but basically, he was a war general for God's side. He made a vow to God before a major war that if God gave him a clear victory, he would give to God as a sacrificial burnt offering whatever came out of the door of his house to greet him when he returned. I'm not sure if he was just assuming that it would be a goat or a dog or what, but anyways, he wins the battle and comes home, and his one and only child comes running out of the door. Not only was it his only child, but it was a girl. It was his daughter. His princess. So of course, Jephthah is all sorts of anguished about this because he knows what he has to do, and his daughter says simply, "You've given your word. Do to me just as you promised. God did his part and saved you from your Ammonite enemies. Just let me have two months to go off with my friends and mourn, because I'll never have married and be forever a virgin." He let her go, she came back, and he did to her what he had vowed.
I wish I knew the name of that young woman. Her strength and fortitude floors me. She ran out of that house joyfully, and was met with a death sentence that she had had absolutely nothing to do with. I mean, think about it - she was an actual person! She had dreams, she had ambitions, she had longings. She had laughed and cried and hoped and wished and prayed. She had girls that she shared secrets with, there was probably a boy or two that caused her heart to skip. She lived. She was real. And she was strong. What would that have felt like, to be told by your father who had just come home from war that he had no choice but to kill you because of a vow he made to God? I would've raised a fit! I would've been a complete mess, I would've argued, I would've thrown a temper tantrum. But she didn't. She stood there and told her father that he had to do what he had to do. She knew that she was part of a promise to God. Oh, and then she was given two months to finish up life. She could've ran off. She didn't have to come back to face her death and the death of all of her dreams. But she did. I am amazed by that. There's stories like that all over the Bible, but they aren't just stories. They happened! I want the strength and peace that could only come from God that that woman had. I mean, I get overwhelmed and defeated by formal stress and financial issues. This woman faced death.
That's strength.
Easter wasn't that long ago. I've heard the story of Jesus' death probably close to an unexaggerated six million times. It's always powerful, but it's the times when it hits me that this all actually happened that I just sit there, stunned. Jesus actually lived. He was completely and one hundred percent human. What must that night have been like for Him? To be completely and totally betrayed by all of the friends that He loved so much? But I can't blame the disciples at all - I would've been just as terrified as them. To have men come at Him in the dark with torches and swords and hate in their eyes? To stand there and take it while accusation after accusation was flung at Him, while the very people that He was doing all of this for were completely tearing Him apart? Yet I'm feeling hurt over lunchroom gossip about how I've handled formal. Bah, there's perspective. I mean, I can't imagine any of this. I can swallow it when I think of it as a story, but when I let me heart bite into the fact that this is reality, that this is history, that these scenes were played out over across the ocean a couple thousand years ago... I can't fathom how anyone could've done what He did. Especially with the knowledge all along of what was going to happen! Especially when He could've called it off at any time! It's so similar to that story of the woman. He was given the death sentence in a circumstance He didn't create. He didn't make it so that He had to die. That was us. That was our sin, not Him. But He, like the woman in her story, had to pay. And, also like the woman, He could've backed out! At any moment, all of the horrible pain in every single sense would have ended if He just would've said so. But He didn't. It had to be done. There was a vow that had been made.
That's strength.
And not only is that strength, but that's the strength that I have fighting for me. That's the strength that I not only choose to but have to rely on. That's God-strength. I'll never be that strong or that courageous or that peaceful on my own. There's no way. I can't do it, despite how hard I try, and trust me, I've tried. Life is absolutely bigger than me. But God is bigger than life. God, in His strength, got rid of life the way that the world does it and gave me a different standard. And if that strength, that God given strength, could course through the veins of that woman and of Jesus as they faced their own different yet similar deaths, then surely that strength can get me through the rest of this week, and not only that, but the rest of my life.
I'm not usually a person who enjoys the Old Testament. A lot of times, my heart has a hard time grasping the loving God I usually see with the same God telling His people to completely wipe out civilizations, or muddling through prophecies that just seem to make no sense (Elijah, anyone?), or all of those rules and sacrifices. I understand the purpose and necessity of the Old Testament. It's just that when I sit down and decide to sink my teeth into some Bible, I'll flip to a Gospel that brings hope or some New Testament letter that breeds boldness and encouragement or a Psalm, which is technically in the Old Testament, but meh. But that's exactly where I've been finding my perspective! Whereas the epistles are letters that speak like a conversation and the Psalms are poetry that show just how much emotion a person can have when it comes to God, the Old Testament is full of stories, full of characters, full of little fifty verse plot lines and name drops, and - get this - full of people. Real people. Actual people who actually lived out these stories and actually existed. These aren't fairy tales or made-up dramas. This is real. And I guess that hasn't always clicked for me. I grew up knowing the stories and coloring the coloring pages and learning the songs. They became just stories for me, just the same as any Disney movie or Robinson Crusoe. The potency got lost somewhere along the way.
There's a story in Judges that I don't think I've ever read before, or at least I've done nothing more than skim over it like is, sadly, kind of typical. I was reading it the other day, and for some reason, it jumped. It was about this man named Jephthah, and I won't go into the entire thing (it's Judges 11, by the way), but basically, he was a war general for God's side. He made a vow to God before a major war that if God gave him a clear victory, he would give to God as a sacrificial burnt offering whatever came out of the door of his house to greet him when he returned. I'm not sure if he was just assuming that it would be a goat or a dog or what, but anyways, he wins the battle and comes home, and his one and only child comes running out of the door. Not only was it his only child, but it was a girl. It was his daughter. His princess. So of course, Jephthah is all sorts of anguished about this because he knows what he has to do, and his daughter says simply, "You've given your word. Do to me just as you promised. God did his part and saved you from your Ammonite enemies. Just let me have two months to go off with my friends and mourn, because I'll never have married and be forever a virgin." He let her go, she came back, and he did to her what he had vowed.
I wish I knew the name of that young woman. Her strength and fortitude floors me. She ran out of that house joyfully, and was met with a death sentence that she had had absolutely nothing to do with. I mean, think about it - she was an actual person! She had dreams, she had ambitions, she had longings. She had laughed and cried and hoped and wished and prayed. She had girls that she shared secrets with, there was probably a boy or two that caused her heart to skip. She lived. She was real. And she was strong. What would that have felt like, to be told by your father who had just come home from war that he had no choice but to kill you because of a vow he made to God? I would've raised a fit! I would've been a complete mess, I would've argued, I would've thrown a temper tantrum. But she didn't. She stood there and told her father that he had to do what he had to do. She knew that she was part of a promise to God. Oh, and then she was given two months to finish up life. She could've ran off. She didn't have to come back to face her death and the death of all of her dreams. But she did. I am amazed by that. There's stories like that all over the Bible, but they aren't just stories. They happened! I want the strength and peace that could only come from God that that woman had. I mean, I get overwhelmed and defeated by formal stress and financial issues. This woman faced death.
That's strength.
Easter wasn't that long ago. I've heard the story of Jesus' death probably close to an unexaggerated six million times. It's always powerful, but it's the times when it hits me that this all actually happened that I just sit there, stunned. Jesus actually lived. He was completely and one hundred percent human. What must that night have been like for Him? To be completely and totally betrayed by all of the friends that He loved so much? But I can't blame the disciples at all - I would've been just as terrified as them. To have men come at Him in the dark with torches and swords and hate in their eyes? To stand there and take it while accusation after accusation was flung at Him, while the very people that He was doing all of this for were completely tearing Him apart? Yet I'm feeling hurt over lunchroom gossip about how I've handled formal. Bah, there's perspective. I mean, I can't imagine any of this. I can swallow it when I think of it as a story, but when I let me heart bite into the fact that this is reality, that this is history, that these scenes were played out over across the ocean a couple thousand years ago... I can't fathom how anyone could've done what He did. Especially with the knowledge all along of what was going to happen! Especially when He could've called it off at any time! It's so similar to that story of the woman. He was given the death sentence in a circumstance He didn't create. He didn't make it so that He had to die. That was us. That was our sin, not Him. But He, like the woman in her story, had to pay. And, also like the woman, He could've backed out! At any moment, all of the horrible pain in every single sense would have ended if He just would've said so. But He didn't. It had to be done. There was a vow that had been made.
That's strength.
And not only is that strength, but that's the strength that I have fighting for me. That's the strength that I not only choose to but have to rely on. That's God-strength. I'll never be that strong or that courageous or that peaceful on my own. There's no way. I can't do it, despite how hard I try, and trust me, I've tried. Life is absolutely bigger than me. But God is bigger than life. God, in His strength, got rid of life the way that the world does it and gave me a different standard. And if that strength, that God given strength, could course through the veins of that woman and of Jesus as they faced their own different yet similar deaths, then surely that strength can get me through the rest of this week, and not only that, but the rest of my life.
"...but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31
Cue the R Kelly song
I almost feel like I should just go back and add this on to my last post. Apparently, Jesus feels the need to karate chop me in the face (lovingly) with issues that He started working on over break. I thought that the lesson was taught, duly noted, and that was that! Meh, maybe not. And since I'm the type of person that has to write it down in order for it to click... friends, you just might get to witness me going through a pretty hefty learning curve. Stay tuned.
Whenever I do my journaling (what the heck, spellcheck, that is too a word...), every now and then, I go back and read through the last couple of weeks. It's awe-inspiring to see how God speaks through Scripture, and how He brings about events in my life that are so obviously part of His plan for me that I sometimes miss when I'm going through it. And part of me also gets a kick out of seeing how they all seem to connect. Whatever I write about one day is usually still on my mind the next, and so it seeps into whatever I read the next day. It all just becomes this wonderful sequence of discovering truths and applying them, and then that leading to something else... I love it. Anyways, I had some time to spare today, so I started reading back through the past two weeks or so. Instead of seeing a flow of progression, it seemed like everything was stuck on the same thing. The verses that I was drawn to all had to deal with love, which is kind of the norm anyways, but it didn't move forward. And what I journaled about had a different ring to it. They seemed rather cliched at first, and as days passed, they grew more and more frustrated, even bitter. I didn't know how to handle that, or even how to go about thinking on it, so I... erm... ignored it. Or tried to. I decided to do my journaling for today, and wouldn't you know it, 1 Corinthians just had to have this short and simple, but powerful and potent, nugget in it.
And the answer is, yes. Love is probably my favorite part of the Bible. Yes, the Bible is essentially a love story, but being loved by God in a way that is tighter than any friend, stronger than any father, more passionate than any guy is indescribable. It makes my heart hurt because I can't smile any bigger or feel any more grateful. The ways that we're encouraged to love Him back - that's what I want to do! And when I think about actually treating eachother with love, actual legit love that transcends everything and heals hurts and raises heads and tears down walls and has power... that's the stuff that I seriously daydream about. Now I was having to admit that, despite all of that, I wasn't being motivated by love, that I still had a lot to learn about it, that my passion wasn't enough to get me through. And my pride didn't like that.
In my day-to-day routine, there is a lot hurt and disrespect and gossip and one-sidedness that is there constantly, especially lately in regards to certain music organizations. It breaks my heart to see it... and then, I get frustrated. I get frustrated at the fact that people can't seem to love eachother, that nobody can seem to raise any opinion without a personal debate, that someone is gossiping at every turn (and it's a circle building, so it's one giant turn). And in that frustration, I cease to act and live in love. I act and live in that frustration. Frustration never leads to anything healthy unless it is motivated and guided by God. For me, frustration caused me to become the very thing that irked me in the first place. I'd gossip, only I'd pretend that if I called it "venting" and only did it to select close friends, it would actually be considered healthy. Ha! I'd start to view other people with a jaded mindset because of the exasperation I couldn't let go of. I was, in no way, acting in love! The love that spurred the frustration was removed from the equation entirely. I had become a walking double standard. And I hate double standards. That's a double standard in itself.
I made this realization... and felt horrible. Like seriously, I was so disgusted with myself that I couldn't even bring myself to talk to God about it because I couldn't (figuratively) look Him in the eye. I hate being disciplined, but I couldn't even see how it was worth it to discipline me in the first place. But I was in a public room and couldn't exactly go have a breakdown, so I got out a book that we've been going through in a women's study and read the chapter assigned for the week. You know, God is ironic. The chapter just so happened to be titled "Grace And Discipline".
If someone could've gone through the Bible, handpicked all of the tidbits of truth that I needed to hear right then, throw in some metaphors, and put it in a few pages... well, ha, someone did. Things hit me, things that I always knew but meant more in the light of my thoughts. Just because I was being disciplined didn't mean that I sucked! No, it means that God loves me, that He wants me to mature, that He views me as His completely and totally legit daughter. Pause for a second - just the truth that I am the daughter of God, THE God, blows my mind. I'm being disciplined because God sees a weak area and wants to fix it so that I become more and more like who He wants me to be, so that I can be used and tried and stretched and tested further than before. If I'm willing to work with God in this, changes will happen! That truth, that hope, just floored me. I actually felt excited that God wanted to discipline me!
There was a metaphor in that chapter that really resonated. When baby eagles get to a certain point, the mother eagle will "stir up the nest". She basically makes a big ruckus and hovers over her young until they fall from the nest which, by the way, is on a super freaking tall cliff. To the baby eagles, it's horrific. A loving parent all of the sudden loses her mind and has a conniption fit and pushes you off of a cliff to your certain death?! What!?! But it's completely necessary for her to do this, and she knows it. The babies have to get out there and use their wings and fly. If they stay in that nest and keep growing, it'll actually get dangerous. She knows this, and she's been watching them and caring for them and knows when the time is right to kick them out. It doesn't mean that she doesn't care - it means that she does! She is watching them with even sharper focus when she does this!
Eagles were meant to fly. They just have to be pushed first. They have to grow. And that's us. That's us as Christians. That's me. God has incredible plans for me - I'm meant to soar! But things have to change first. I have to be pushed. And God's pushing me. He's showing me where I need to grow, and although it sucks, He's going to help me with it. He hasn't just slapped me across the face with ugly realizations about myself and then left me to figure out what pieces go back together or how to change. No, He did the slapping, and now, He's helping me learn to fly.
Whenever I do my journaling (what the heck, spellcheck, that is too a word...), every now and then, I go back and read through the last couple of weeks. It's awe-inspiring to see how God speaks through Scripture, and how He brings about events in my life that are so obviously part of His plan for me that I sometimes miss when I'm going through it. And part of me also gets a kick out of seeing how they all seem to connect. Whatever I write about one day is usually still on my mind the next, and so it seeps into whatever I read the next day. It all just becomes this wonderful sequence of discovering truths and applying them, and then that leading to something else... I love it. Anyways, I had some time to spare today, so I started reading back through the past two weeks or so. Instead of seeing a flow of progression, it seemed like everything was stuck on the same thing. The verses that I was drawn to all had to deal with love, which is kind of the norm anyways, but it didn't move forward. And what I journaled about had a different ring to it. They seemed rather cliched at first, and as days passed, they grew more and more frustrated, even bitter. I didn't know how to handle that, or even how to go about thinking on it, so I... erm... ignored it. Or tried to. I decided to do my journaling for today, and wouldn't you know it, 1 Corinthians just had to have this short and simple, but powerful and potent, nugget in it.
"Do everything in love." 1 Corinthians 16:14I openly admitted to myself that I hadn't been doing the greatest job at that lately, for some reason. And the more I thought about that, the more that I realized that just that admittance in itself bothered me. It even disgusted me. And then the fact that it disgusted me disgusted me. I mean, why did the fact that I was struggling to be motivated by love phase me so much? Did I really have that much pride?
And the answer is, yes. Love is probably my favorite part of the Bible. Yes, the Bible is essentially a love story, but being loved by God in a way that is tighter than any friend, stronger than any father, more passionate than any guy is indescribable. It makes my heart hurt because I can't smile any bigger or feel any more grateful. The ways that we're encouraged to love Him back - that's what I want to do! And when I think about actually treating eachother with love, actual legit love that transcends everything and heals hurts and raises heads and tears down walls and has power... that's the stuff that I seriously daydream about. Now I was having to admit that, despite all of that, I wasn't being motivated by love, that I still had a lot to learn about it, that my passion wasn't enough to get me through. And my pride didn't like that.
In my day-to-day routine, there is a lot hurt and disrespect and gossip and one-sidedness that is there constantly, especially lately in regards to certain music organizations. It breaks my heart to see it... and then, I get frustrated. I get frustrated at the fact that people can't seem to love eachother, that nobody can seem to raise any opinion without a personal debate, that someone is gossiping at every turn (and it's a circle building, so it's one giant turn). And in that frustration, I cease to act and live in love. I act and live in that frustration. Frustration never leads to anything healthy unless it is motivated and guided by God. For me, frustration caused me to become the very thing that irked me in the first place. I'd gossip, only I'd pretend that if I called it "venting" and only did it to select close friends, it would actually be considered healthy. Ha! I'd start to view other people with a jaded mindset because of the exasperation I couldn't let go of. I was, in no way, acting in love! The love that spurred the frustration was removed from the equation entirely. I had become a walking double standard. And I hate double standards. That's a double standard in itself.
I made this realization... and felt horrible. Like seriously, I was so disgusted with myself that I couldn't even bring myself to talk to God about it because I couldn't (figuratively) look Him in the eye. I hate being disciplined, but I couldn't even see how it was worth it to discipline me in the first place. But I was in a public room and couldn't exactly go have a breakdown, so I got out a book that we've been going through in a women's study and read the chapter assigned for the week. You know, God is ironic. The chapter just so happened to be titled "Grace And Discipline".
If someone could've gone through the Bible, handpicked all of the tidbits of truth that I needed to hear right then, throw in some metaphors, and put it in a few pages... well, ha, someone did. Things hit me, things that I always knew but meant more in the light of my thoughts. Just because I was being disciplined didn't mean that I sucked! No, it means that God loves me, that He wants me to mature, that He views me as His completely and totally legit daughter. Pause for a second - just the truth that I am the daughter of God, THE God, blows my mind. I'm being disciplined because God sees a weak area and wants to fix it so that I become more and more like who He wants me to be, so that I can be used and tried and stretched and tested further than before. If I'm willing to work with God in this, changes will happen! That truth, that hope, just floored me. I actually felt excited that God wanted to discipline me!
There was a metaphor in that chapter that really resonated. When baby eagles get to a certain point, the mother eagle will "stir up the nest". She basically makes a big ruckus and hovers over her young until they fall from the nest which, by the way, is on a super freaking tall cliff. To the baby eagles, it's horrific. A loving parent all of the sudden loses her mind and has a conniption fit and pushes you off of a cliff to your certain death?! What!?! But it's completely necessary for her to do this, and she knows it. The babies have to get out there and use their wings and fly. If they stay in that nest and keep growing, it'll actually get dangerous. She knows this, and she's been watching them and caring for them and knows when the time is right to kick them out. It doesn't mean that she doesn't care - it means that she does! She is watching them with even sharper focus when she does this!
Eagles were meant to fly. They just have to be pushed first. They have to grow. And that's us. That's us as Christians. That's me. God has incredible plans for me - I'm meant to soar! But things have to change first. I have to be pushed. And God's pushing me. He's showing me where I need to grow, and although it sucks, He's going to help me with it. He hasn't just slapped me across the face with ugly realizations about myself and then left me to figure out what pieces go back together or how to change. No, He did the slapping, and now, He's helping me learn to fly.
A recap on break
When spring breaks rolls around, almost every college student fits into one of a few categories - they either can't wait to go home, are heading some place to volunteer, are heading some place to "have a good time", or aren't that excited about going home. I have to admit that I generally fall into that last one. Now, don't get me wrong! I love my family. I'm not just saying that - I really do love them. And I welcomed the break from everything that college is. But going home is hard for me.
My family and I used to not get along. I think that most kids go through a rebellious stage somewhere around junior high to early high school, and I did too. I was kind of a lame rebel. I didn't really do anything. But I couldn't stand my parents, and my brothers had that tight bond that comes from loving farmwork or something, and I just didn't share that. It took a few key events around my junior year of high school for things to start clicking, and I finally got along with my family. I mean, I was still kind of the odd one out, but we got along. Then, I got to college, and man, everything changed. God hit me with a full blast of love, I learned what it meant to follow Him, and my life turned upside down. I changed. I changed the way that I viewed Jesus and the Church. I changed the way that I viewed certain aspects of politics or social justice. I changed the way that I loved people (read: I actually learned how to love people). That change took a while to work itself out, and it's still working itself out. But because I only saw my family on extended school breaks, to them, it seemed more sudden. And that's kind of where we are now. I am a much different person, and there's tension as they try to figure out what to do with me. There's tension in that, although we all love and follow Jesus, we do that in much different ways. There's tension in the ways that we view social and political decisions that being made. There's tension in how we treat people or what we consider "normal".
And that tension was there from the get-go of break. The first few days, it was just one argument after another. Mom got upset because I got another ear piercing, and because I pressed on why that upset her, a huge long argument/discussion ensued. I get back home, and my brother says that I'm a bad person because we didn't end up going to church in St. Louis as planned. I discuss my summer plans, and get told to "lay off the church stuff". Things in the news about different races and stuff illicit slurs from my brothers, and that really hurt. And then there's the whole aspect of living with a family of Catholics during Lent. After the first few days, I was done. I felt like I couldn't say anything without being attacked, like they would ask questions about my opinions but not even entertain my answer, like I was being ganged up on. I loved my family SO much, but every time that I tried to speak and act in love, it was thrown in my face. And I still most of a week left. I ended up calling a friend way late at night, completely unloading and being encouraged. "You're strong, you can do this," I was told. And I knew I could. But I had quite a bit of bitterness storing up.
And that's when I found this verse.
It was hard. Not so much making the shift, but having to face all of the double standards I had set... ouch.
Once I made that shift in my heart and my attitude, though, I saw how much in the wrong I was. I said that I was trying to speak to them in love, but I wasn't. I was arguing. And while yes, you should stick up for yourself, and while yes, I want them to know my opinion (especially when they ask), when doing that reaches the point that it becomes less of a discussion and more of a fight, then I'm not doing my job. I'm not showing what Christ-like love is. I'm showing how stubborn I am.
I think that that was the part that threw me for a loop the most. It seems like actually living out love pops up in my journal at least once a week. Like, in my head and in my heart, that's one of the things I want most. I want to see people love eachother, actually love eachother, regardless of any differences and without stereotypes or selfishness... I think it would be the most beautiful thing ever. But then, I turn around and harbor resentment towards my parents because of how we can't seem to see eye to eye. Like that even matters! Don't we both love Jesus? Aren't we both children of God? Ugh! And that's the point.
God showed me how to show love to my parents, despite differences. If I had to do it on my own, I would be starting classes today a completely empty woman. I would be so bitter, so frustrated, so tired of it all. But I didn't do it on my own. I did it by continually leaning on God for strength, by pouring out love that I didn't have on my own, that came from Him. I did it by actually making the effort to see things from their point of view. I did it by looking at them, and seeing Jesus living in them.
Isn't that what love is about anyways?
My family and I used to not get along. I think that most kids go through a rebellious stage somewhere around junior high to early high school, and I did too. I was kind of a lame rebel. I didn't really do anything. But I couldn't stand my parents, and my brothers had that tight bond that comes from loving farmwork or something, and I just didn't share that. It took a few key events around my junior year of high school for things to start clicking, and I finally got along with my family. I mean, I was still kind of the odd one out, but we got along. Then, I got to college, and man, everything changed. God hit me with a full blast of love, I learned what it meant to follow Him, and my life turned upside down. I changed. I changed the way that I viewed Jesus and the Church. I changed the way that I viewed certain aspects of politics or social justice. I changed the way that I loved people (read: I actually learned how to love people). That change took a while to work itself out, and it's still working itself out. But because I only saw my family on extended school breaks, to them, it seemed more sudden. And that's kind of where we are now. I am a much different person, and there's tension as they try to figure out what to do with me. There's tension in that, although we all love and follow Jesus, we do that in much different ways. There's tension in the ways that we view social and political decisions that being made. There's tension in how we treat people or what we consider "normal".
And that tension was there from the get-go of break. The first few days, it was just one argument after another. Mom got upset because I got another ear piercing, and because I pressed on why that upset her, a huge long argument/discussion ensued. I get back home, and my brother says that I'm a bad person because we didn't end up going to church in St. Louis as planned. I discuss my summer plans, and get told to "lay off the church stuff". Things in the news about different races and stuff illicit slurs from my brothers, and that really hurt. And then there's the whole aspect of living with a family of Catholics during Lent. After the first few days, I was done. I felt like I couldn't say anything without being attacked, like they would ask questions about my opinions but not even entertain my answer, like I was being ganged up on. I loved my family SO much, but every time that I tried to speak and act in love, it was thrown in my face. And I still most of a week left. I ended up calling a friend way late at night, completely unloading and being encouraged. "You're strong, you can do this," I was told. And I knew I could. But I had quite a bit of bitterness storing up.
And that's when I found this verse.
"Don't have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels. And the Lord's servant must not quarrel; instead, he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful." 2 Timothy 2: 23-24Mmm. Touche, God. It's not like I was trying to start the arguments that my family and I had been having, but it had gotten to the point that I was almost expecting them, and so was quick to turn defensive. I was adding to those foolish and stupid arguments, and I was definitely harboring resent. I felt pretty convicted right about then, and so since nobody was in the house, I did what I always seem to do when God tries to teach me something hard - I argued with Him. He always wins, but I do it anyways. After I got it all out and basically felt like a giant emotional sponge that was just wrung dry, I just sat there and listened. It's funny, I can just picture God looking at me during my frustration fit, just waiting for me to be quiet so that He could talk, just like a dad or a good friend would. And He did. And what I felt in my soul was basically this: "I know you're frustrated. You love them, and you feel like they're suffocating you, and you want them to love and live like you do. I love how you love! But I love them too, and I have them on different paths than you. This tension is not My plan for this family. Regardless of whose fault it is, dear, you have to forget it and refuse to be part of it. It takes two people to argue. I want to strengthen you and use you, but you have to stop swinging. They love you. You love them. I love all of you. Just think on that."
It was hard. Not so much making the shift, but having to face all of the double standards I had set... ouch.
Once I made that shift in my heart and my attitude, though, I saw how much in the wrong I was. I said that I was trying to speak to them in love, but I wasn't. I was arguing. And while yes, you should stick up for yourself, and while yes, I want them to know my opinion (especially when they ask), when doing that reaches the point that it becomes less of a discussion and more of a fight, then I'm not doing my job. I'm not showing what Christ-like love is. I'm showing how stubborn I am.
I think that that was the part that threw me for a loop the most. It seems like actually living out love pops up in my journal at least once a week. Like, in my head and in my heart, that's one of the things I want most. I want to see people love eachother, actually love eachother, regardless of any differences and without stereotypes or selfishness... I think it would be the most beautiful thing ever. But then, I turn around and harbor resentment towards my parents because of how we can't seem to see eye to eye. Like that even matters! Don't we both love Jesus? Aren't we both children of God? Ugh! And that's the point.
God showed me how to show love to my parents, despite differences. If I had to do it on my own, I would be starting classes today a completely empty woman. I would be so bitter, so frustrated, so tired of it all. But I didn't do it on my own. I did it by continually leaning on God for strength, by pouring out love that I didn't have on my own, that came from Him. I did it by actually making the effort to see things from their point of view. I did it by looking at them, and seeing Jesus living in them.
Isn't that what love is about anyways?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)