true story: blogger freaks me out. it's sort of like time with Jesus: the longer i go without, the more scared i am of even opening that door, as the flood gates release all that has been waiting for my return.
it's always a good thing to return; just ask the prodigal son. there's just that anxiety that wells up within, that would rather shy from the overwhelmingness than succumb to it. so if i've gone a week without a blog post, i'll likely go three more, just for good measure.
but today, i was intentional. i did a little preplanning at school for next week, and left with an abundance of time for what looks like to be the only free evening I will have until Christmas. i had two intentions for tonight: coffee shop and Jesus time, and writing at home. i figured if i didn't put them in that order, I wouldn't actually do either of them. (i actually have a third thing, organize my sewing corner in this mess of a studio room i now inhabit, but that's neither here nor there).
intentionality.
there's a lot in that word. it represents our heart. our purpose. our pursuit. our focus. it shows our level of commitment, or maybe our lack of it. i think it's also a humility check for our ability to coast-by, ever-so-effortlessly-- in which we realize most things don't come with ease, rather, only with well-intentioned pursuit.
i realized a few things today i must be intentional about. writing is always one of them. as much as i love to write, as much as words are the next best antidote to Jesus for a trying day, they don't pour out at will without me first popping the cork.
time with Jesus must also be intentional. although its a rare day in which i don't encounter Jesus in unconventional ways, to really grow from those experiences, i must grant myself time to marinade and reflect. give the opportunities of the day a chance to breed emotions, give those emotions an opportunity to find words to express them. but if the words remain unspoken, unwritten, then their potential to change my heart remains unreached.
we must also be intentional to love and to seek out opportunities to love. it's not always easy. the flesh wants to respond in a way that seems natural: to discipline errors, to air our frustrations to those that we deem deserve to hear them. whats hard is to take the offender by the hand, bite your tongue, and speak love, out of a place that doesn't seek to inflict the same pain your heart is feeling because of them.
patience must be intentioned. no body becomes an accidentally patient person. if so, please allow me to sit as one of their students, because i seriously suck in this department. although i failed on many accounts to be patient through the course of today's trials, there were a few moments in which I said, "die" to flesh, and surrendered my "right" to be right. more often than not, that wasn't the case. the victory, albeit small, was still a victory for Christ.
the Word tells us that our flesh and the Spirit are set in opposition to one another. The flesh sets its desires against the spirit, and the spirit sets its desires against the flesh; we can not do what we want because of this power struggle within. because our flesh is set against the Spirit, to walk by the Spirit, we must be intentional about setting our choices, words, actions, responses, etc. against our natural instincts of the flesh. over time, through learned behavior and habit, we can become more agreeable to the Spirit's desires, but I'm not certain that there will ever be a time in which we do it all the time, every time, without error without first choosing the Spirit over flesh.
living intentionally is the only way we can truly live a Spirit-filled life. intentionally choose your words, your actions, your reactions to mimic that of Christ. love others with intention, not out of the limited ability of your flesh, rather out of the unlimited fullness of grace and strength of the Lord. we must pursue Him with intention, walk with intention, learn and grieve and humble ourselves with intention. not that in our own intention we are ever capable of walking out perfection. but without it, we will wander aimlessly.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
beautiful.
there's a fleeting few moments between daylight and nightfall in which the horizon erupts in a rainbow variety of pinks and oranges and blues and yellows and purples and fiery reds. just before dusk pulls its curtain down to meet with the tree line, the sunset speaks silent yet bold to the world around about its Creator. in a moment, the very breath slips out from my lungs as a gasp; ignorant to the cold chill that typically penetrates my bones with a long-lasting bitterness. i breathe in deep and feel with all of my senses. the Lord steals my breath away with silhouette of the bare trees of late fall, backlit by the marked beauty of the sunset hues. in moments like this, you can't help but feel alive, and completely at ease with the way things are, if only for that moment. and just as quickly and quietly as it came, the navies and indigos of nightfall settle in and begin to kiss the ground. my heart has been wrecked, like a longing glance from a secret lover, causing my heart to melt and my knees to wobble.
and as the stars begin to make their crystal-like appearance as the heavens go black, the wooing of my soul begins again. so is God's pursuit of our heart. He is like a suitor, offering the most generous of gifts, romancing our distracted and wayward hearts back to our first love. His gifts, however, are eternal, transformational. they cause our senses to awaken, the stone abounding in our hearts to be chiseled. and the beauty He sees emanate from the stroke of His hand in the Heavens and on the horizon are incomparable to the beauty He sees in the dirt and ash and crumbs of a heart surrendered to Him.
and as the stars begin to make their crystal-like appearance as the heavens go black, the wooing of my soul begins again. so is God's pursuit of our heart. He is like a suitor, offering the most generous of gifts, romancing our distracted and wayward hearts back to our first love. His gifts, however, are eternal, transformational. they cause our senses to awaken, the stone abounding in our hearts to be chiseled. and the beauty He sees emanate from the stroke of His hand in the Heavens and on the horizon are incomparable to the beauty He sees in the dirt and ash and crumbs of a heart surrendered to Him.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
the wedding dress day.
like many posts, i will start this one by saying it *will* be short, because it is *late* and i need to be up *early*.
and like many posts, i likely will not stick to that.
but, God is doing a massive work in my life as of this week, and it is too exciting to at least not try to pen a bit about.
the gamut of emotion i have experienced in the past 24 hours in insane. i can not tell you how much anxiety and un-rest i was feeling this morning. it was heart wrenching beyond the point of tears. it was an apparent move of the Lord to get me to surrender and walk in obedience, even when that obedience did not look like what i anticipated it to.
and as i walked with one foot in front of the other, hands trembling and stomach churning, His strength was perfected in my weakness. in my humility, He was glorified. and in one fell swoop, completely surrounded by His grace and love and mercy, His perfect peace not only covered me, but elevated me to an amount of joy, freedom, and excitement that I have not felt in years. years!
i imagine that one day, i will try on a beautiful white gown, and i will feel such joy and excitement in knowing that this is it. this is the one. this fits exactly as if it were made for me.
but today, in my single-dom, i feel an odd sense of peace in knowing that the way God is moving, the things He is stirring, the ways he is requiring me to walk in obedience and lay things down that looked like they fit, He is giving me such a joy and sense of excitement, knowing that this truly is it; this season fits exactly as if it were made for me.
because, it finally is.
God's releasing me for great things this season. I can't share about them here yet, but ask for your prayers as life is going to look a lot different in the months and years to come.
He has been renovating my heart in major ways in the past month, after spending the past three months being torture by anxiety and obsessing over "the 'right' will of God." i feel as if i've been leading a double-life; not out of shadiness, or trying to hide anything. but rather living 'stuck' in a life and the shell of a person that was no longer alive; verses the crying out of my heart to live how He has created me to be.
In the past month, since my revelatory visit to New Orleans (seriously, revelatory is putting it lightly. God used that trip to practically wreck my life; and I'm thankful for it!), God has revealed to me the things that make me come to life. and in seeing them, i've seen how dead i've become over the past few years. sure, there have been pockets of amazing seasons, namely my times in Haiti being at the top of those lists, but overall, the person He has created my living soul to be has been stifled. In seeing the parts come to life, I've realized how long those parts have been dormant, and I've realized the need to engage them for His kingdom, as well as to embrace my own created being and allow it to flourish.
God is finally granting me strength and vision and opportunity, and He is only beginning this process. I feel like although I will be in the perpetual "what-the-H-am-i-supposed-to-be-doing-with-my-life?" question, that He's given me a lot of clarity on all of that in the past week, and I *almost* feel as if it's all beginning to make sense; that I won't be lost in this sea of wonder forever.
i am so, so, so grateful for His faithfulness. For His peace like a river. For his JOY! Excitement!!! The fact that I can literally stare at things in the face that have TERRIFIED ME to no end, and say "In Jesus name, you have no power/control/strength against me." to walk out confrontation with humility and lowliness and risk disappointment, because i have been granted peace in knowing it is the right thing to do.
i am so, so excited for this season. it's going to be a long one. there's going to be a lot of newness. and a lot of moments and opportunities to become overwhelmed and worried and anxious about days to come. but that just means the Lord has even more of an opportunity to receive the glory as He enables me to walk with boldness, confidence, and a sound mind.
and like many posts, i likely will not stick to that.
but, God is doing a massive work in my life as of this week, and it is too exciting to at least not try to pen a bit about.
the gamut of emotion i have experienced in the past 24 hours in insane. i can not tell you how much anxiety and un-rest i was feeling this morning. it was heart wrenching beyond the point of tears. it was an apparent move of the Lord to get me to surrender and walk in obedience, even when that obedience did not look like what i anticipated it to.
and as i walked with one foot in front of the other, hands trembling and stomach churning, His strength was perfected in my weakness. in my humility, He was glorified. and in one fell swoop, completely surrounded by His grace and love and mercy, His perfect peace not only covered me, but elevated me to an amount of joy, freedom, and excitement that I have not felt in years. years!
i imagine that one day, i will try on a beautiful white gown, and i will feel such joy and excitement in knowing that this is it. this is the one. this fits exactly as if it were made for me.
but today, in my single-dom, i feel an odd sense of peace in knowing that the way God is moving, the things He is stirring, the ways he is requiring me to walk in obedience and lay things down that looked like they fit, He is giving me such a joy and sense of excitement, knowing that this truly is it; this season fits exactly as if it were made for me.
because, it finally is.
God's releasing me for great things this season. I can't share about them here yet, but ask for your prayers as life is going to look a lot different in the months and years to come.
He has been renovating my heart in major ways in the past month, after spending the past three months being torture by anxiety and obsessing over "the 'right' will of God." i feel as if i've been leading a double-life; not out of shadiness, or trying to hide anything. but rather living 'stuck' in a life and the shell of a person that was no longer alive; verses the crying out of my heart to live how He has created me to be.
In the past month, since my revelatory visit to New Orleans (seriously, revelatory is putting it lightly. God used that trip to practically wreck my life; and I'm thankful for it!), God has revealed to me the things that make me come to life. and in seeing them, i've seen how dead i've become over the past few years. sure, there have been pockets of amazing seasons, namely my times in Haiti being at the top of those lists, but overall, the person He has created my living soul to be has been stifled. In seeing the parts come to life, I've realized how long those parts have been dormant, and I've realized the need to engage them for His kingdom, as well as to embrace my own created being and allow it to flourish.
God is finally granting me strength and vision and opportunity, and He is only beginning this process. I feel like although I will be in the perpetual "what-the-H-am-i-supposed-to-be-doing-with-my-life?" question, that He's given me a lot of clarity on all of that in the past week, and I *almost* feel as if it's all beginning to make sense; that I won't be lost in this sea of wonder forever.
i am so, so, so grateful for His faithfulness. For His peace like a river. For his JOY! Excitement!!! The fact that I can literally stare at things in the face that have TERRIFIED ME to no end, and say "In Jesus name, you have no power/control/strength against me." to walk out confrontation with humility and lowliness and risk disappointment, because i have been granted peace in knowing it is the right thing to do.
i am so, so excited for this season. it's going to be a long one. there's going to be a lot of newness. and a lot of moments and opportunities to become overwhelmed and worried and anxious about days to come. but that just means the Lord has even more of an opportunity to receive the glory as He enables me to walk with boldness, confidence, and a sound mind.
Monday, October 22, 2012
give it well.
It was late as I drove. Even if it wasn't, I would've been just as exhausted, as life these days in adulthood has seemed awfully fatiguing, fighting for joy and worth (that's another post).
I've been day dreaming about my passions and this invisible life that my heart feels like it should be leading, a lot. I've picked up peace corps literature, googled every NGO under the sun, and even started charting out a silent but huge dream on my heart.
I was thinking about my super-ecclectic group of extremely brilliant and talented friends. Musicians, artists, designers. I feel like everyone has a talent to offer. Something that can sustain them financially, allow them to pursue their work with passion, and afford them the opportunity to use their gift to give back.
My heart wrenched, if it can actually do such a thing. "I have nothing to give," I thought remorsefully. I'm good at several things, but I don't really excel at ONE main thing. I have no staple. There's nothing I can be known for.
Immediately, the Holy Spirit refuted my statement if self-pity. "Oh, yes you do, daughter. You have the most important thing to give. You have Love. It's far more important you give that, give it well, and give it in My name."
I'm not claiming I'm good at it, that I excel at it, or that it even comes naturally. But through Him, in Him, I can do all things as He is the one that allows me strength.
We all have something to give. You were not designed to give the same, generic gift someone else has been designed to give. You are unique, and intimately known by our Creator. Use whatever gifts you possess to bring glory to His name; but do not neglect your capacity to give and show love. It is the most important, unrefined treasure of your heart to be able to produce
"Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins." 1 Peter 4:8
"If I give away all I have, and I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing." 1 Corinthians 13:3
I've been day dreaming about my passions and this invisible life that my heart feels like it should be leading, a lot. I've picked up peace corps literature, googled every NGO under the sun, and even started charting out a silent but huge dream on my heart.
I was thinking about my super-ecclectic group of extremely brilliant and talented friends. Musicians, artists, designers. I feel like everyone has a talent to offer. Something that can sustain them financially, allow them to pursue their work with passion, and afford them the opportunity to use their gift to give back.
My heart wrenched, if it can actually do such a thing. "I have nothing to give," I thought remorsefully. I'm good at several things, but I don't really excel at ONE main thing. I have no staple. There's nothing I can be known for.
Immediately, the Holy Spirit refuted my statement if self-pity. "Oh, yes you do, daughter. You have the most important thing to give. You have Love. It's far more important you give that, give it well, and give it in My name."
I'm not claiming I'm good at it, that I excel at it, or that it even comes naturally. But through Him, in Him, I can do all things as He is the one that allows me strength.
We all have something to give. You were not designed to give the same, generic gift someone else has been designed to give. You are unique, and intimately known by our Creator. Use whatever gifts you possess to bring glory to His name; but do not neglect your capacity to give and show love. It is the most important, unrefined treasure of your heart to be able to produce
"Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins." 1 Peter 4:8
"If I give away all I have, and I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing." 1 Corinthians 13:3
Saturday, October 6, 2012
He hasn't focaccia.
I can hear them now, whispering. Trying to pass the blame. Peter! You forgot the sourdough, again! What do you mean, there's no challah?! Didn't anyone grab those seven baskets worth of focaccia back at the shore before we hopped in the boat? You know, Jeezy's not gunna be too pleasey with this one again.
"Watch and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the Sadduces."
Umm. Earth to Jesus, come in Jesus. We brought NO BREAD. Not sure you heard that.
"But Jesus, aware of this, said, "o you of little faith, why are you discussing among yourselves the fact that you have no bread? Do you not yet perceive? Do you not remember the loaves for the five thousand, and how many baskets you gathered? Or the seven loaves for the four thousand, and how many baskets you gathered? How is it that you fail to understand that I did not speak of the bread?"
We do it all the time. Or, at least I do. I petition Him with a silly request. I don't have patience, or peace, or resources. He responds with a metaphor, and I say, ummm, Jesus, did you just hear what I said?
Of course he did. He's God. "But Jesus, aware of this..." the text says. Of course he is aware.
But how aware are we of the abundance He's provided in our lack before? When He's overflowed baskets with bread when the multitudes had nothing to eat. When he's taken the small amount we've had, and multiplied it for His glory and our benefit.
I'm reading story after story of Jesus' radical teaching and love, and although He lived it out right before the disciples, miracle after miracle, each one as astounding as the one before it, they were so quick to forget.
He had just probided bread for thousands. And yet, they still remind him they have no bread.
"Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" (MAtthew 6:25-26)
Whatever it is you're anxious about-- about not having enough, about not being enough, about not seeing your basic necessities or the resources to even conjur them up-- do not worry. He knows your need before even you do. He will meet it if you look to him instead of your worry.
As I left the coffeehouse when I wrote this out, I felt the Lord smile on me as he melted my heart. I saw three sparrows in the parking lot. Tearing a part a piece of toasted bread on the asphalt. In the most unlikely of places, God provides just what we need.
Aren't we even more valuable than the sparrow of the field?
"Watch and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the Sadduces."
Umm. Earth to Jesus, come in Jesus. We brought NO BREAD. Not sure you heard that.
"But Jesus, aware of this, said, "o you of little faith, why are you discussing among yourselves the fact that you have no bread? Do you not yet perceive? Do you not remember the loaves for the five thousand, and how many baskets you gathered? Or the seven loaves for the four thousand, and how many baskets you gathered? How is it that you fail to understand that I did not speak of the bread?"
We do it all the time. Or, at least I do. I petition Him with a silly request. I don't have patience, or peace, or resources. He responds with a metaphor, and I say, ummm, Jesus, did you just hear what I said?
Of course he did. He's God. "But Jesus, aware of this..." the text says. Of course he is aware.
But how aware are we of the abundance He's provided in our lack before? When He's overflowed baskets with bread when the multitudes had nothing to eat. When he's taken the small amount we've had, and multiplied it for His glory and our benefit.
I'm reading story after story of Jesus' radical teaching and love, and although He lived it out right before the disciples, miracle after miracle, each one as astounding as the one before it, they were so quick to forget.
He had just probided bread for thousands. And yet, they still remind him they have no bread.
"Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" (MAtthew 6:25-26)
Whatever it is you're anxious about-- about not having enough, about not being enough, about not seeing your basic necessities or the resources to even conjur them up-- do not worry. He knows your need before even you do. He will meet it if you look to him instead of your worry.
As I left the coffeehouse when I wrote this out, I felt the Lord smile on me as he melted my heart. I saw three sparrows in the parking lot. Tearing a part a piece of toasted bread on the asphalt. In the most unlikely of places, God provides just what we need.
Aren't we even more valuable than the sparrow of the field?
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Sebastian
He was interesting, the way he sat there on the bench with his border collie mutt, devouring some sort of local cuisine wrapped in butcher paper. Something about him was mysterious and intriguing, in the way you watch a scene unfold from an artsy, indie movie. The day was chilly for New Orleans weather; overcast and blundry, a nice reprieve from the sticky, muggy humidity yesterday's rain showers left behind.
He watched me as I drifted aimlessly between buildings, searching out unique textures and anti-cliché shots of the French Quarter culture. Meandering around foreign streets by myself is a freeing experience. I find I become a stranger when I enter into new cities; it's only when I began to meet other strangers do I begin to find out who I am myself.
Perhaps that's why it was so easy to talk to him. He called to me, politely and not vulgar, like you'd anticipate from someone that was seemingly-transient and just a couple blocks off Bourbon Street.
Do you like art? he asked; a rather vague question, but with great potential for conversation. I told him I did, and he said he noticed I had been photographing things with intentionality.
So, what sort of things do you like? he inquired. Textures, I told him. I love textures. Things that don't necessarily stand out as beautiful until you seem them alone, in their all-created glory. He told me he liked textures too, and prefers the texture of the sand of the east-bank of the river, the way that it photographs. He sometimes leaves little treasure behind, hoping that others would find beauty in the objects or be inspired (I would later receive a message from Leah that she found one of his poems tacked to a board at a coffeshop in the Quarter; and a quick google search yielded a little peace he left behind on the sidewalk). He dug around in his little messager bag and asked if I would sit so he could share a treasure with me. He handed me a small, coupon-sized booklet with a fake-money, "ticket to hell" cover, which caused me immediately to revert to internalizing small prayers warding off evil spirits, voodoo, etc. but he seemed harmless, and the words typed on each small leaflet of colored paper were soaked in beauty. I flipped through it, careful of its fragility,
Textures, he repeated. I've written something about textures; do you mind if I share it with you? He dug around a bit more in his bag, opening up a large journal I nearly mistook for a Bible. His debit card was free-floating in his bag and nearly slipped through a crack in the bench. Careful! Don't wanna lose that, I said.
It's the least important thing I own, he confessed as he found an entry scribbled down from August in New York. I closed my eyes as he read it; his speech eloquent, saturated with color, and texture, and drenched in the pseudo romance of the moment so that one completely blind would have created a scene so rich in their own head, no visual could compare. I sopped up every word like a world-famous beignet dipped in cafe au lait, both soaked in sweetness.
He asked if I liked words. Oh, absolutely, I responded. He fumbled few a few more pages with the same intentionality of his speech. Im certain even the most stoic, rigid, cold-hearted person would have become like liquid beneath the fluidity of his words. It was true beauty, if beauty is able to be something that lacks a tangible, quantifiable worth. There was no excess in his word choice, each chosen with purpose and weight, more than enough to be illustrative, too few to seem verbose and over-compensatory.
He spoke of peace and tranquility and zen, and said that there was something light and joyful about me, that it exuded from my persona. Yes, my friend, that is Jesus. I didn't say that, although I wish in hindsight that I would've. But it did open me to ask the Spirit to speak and lead.
Somehow there was a segue from art to zen to peace to doing nothing and simply existing. I told him that's what I did this morning, well, sort of. He asked what it was, and I told him I spent the day at a cafe writing and reading my Bible.
Oh, so you're religious? he asked me. I responded with a hesitation with the world religious. Protestant Christian, I responded to answer him formally, a Bible-believing Christian. I believe in the trinity: God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit. And that peace you talk about, it comes from God, from His Holy Spirit. It's a peace that surpasses all understanding. It transcends the circumstances that dictate that moment should be anything but peaceful. Its in those moments that I realize it is His power in me and through me.
He knew what I was talking about, to an extent at least. oh, I just LOVE God. He is so much more than we can put words to. In fact, trying to describe Him, trying to wrap our finite mind around His infinite being does Him an injustice. We limit Him when we try to use our words to describe Him. He's bigger than we will ever understand. I've written something else about Him, if you don't mind I'd like to share it. He flipped right to it. The pages, chock-full of words and poems and thoughts and the crowded clutter of revelation revealed between ink and lines. His words danced amidst the imagery of his poetry once again. He spoke with resolve and wonder and trembling and peace.
Our conversation continued as he asked me if I had ever been in love. Yes, I answered him. I believe I have. He wrote this poem about love a few weeks ago while in New York, before his girlfriend in New Orleans broke it off with him. it was as beautiful as i can remember love to be.
at some point, i asked him his name. Sebastian, he replied. That's the name of my dog! I said back to him, to which he laughed and said he bet my name wasn't Buck Mulligan. I told him my name and we continued to converse until Leah called and tried to make her way to where I was. I asked if he would mind if I could pray with him, and he ever-so-zealously agreed. As he reached out to grab both my hands, he asked what he should do with his eyes; open, close? I told him that God hardly cares about His eyes; its his heart that He's looking at.
I prayed a simple prayer asking the Father for encouragement and favor to be poured down on Sebastian that afternoon. That He would experience His holy presence and fall more in love with Him today. I thanked Him for the divine encounter we had, and for the sweet gift that Jesus is for us. Amen. and Amen.
He kissed my cheek and thanked me with sincere gratitude as i fumbled through my purse. I hadn't much with me, but I did have 5 Haitian Gourdes to exchange as my piece of treasure to leave behind with him. Aside from a kid outside of Deli Mart, i've never seen a person so excited to receive a coin so low in value. but i could tell, the value of the currency was nothing in comparison to the value of the interaction we just had.
with giggles in my heart over the exchange, i joyfully went about my afternoon thankful for my chance encounter with Sebastian. as a Christian, seeing someone that shares the same awe and reverence of our Creator excites me. speaking truth to him, yet in love and not in any way to sow discord or thinking I have the right to speak pretentiously as if I have all the answers, he needs me to pray for him. I find that there is a fine line between loving a person where they are at, and not speaking truth in order to not offend. however, I also believe that once you offend someone in the name of Christ, very little there after will hold much worth to them. maybe Sebastian knows Jesus. maybe I should've asked. but as Christians living in a world that is not our home, we need to make sure we are being light in the darkness, and pointing to Christ when asked where that light is shining from.
Shine your light. You never know how it may brighten someone's day, illuminate someone's path, or reignite the spark in someone's heart.
Sebastian allowed God's light to shine in him whether or not he realized it.
He watched me as I drifted aimlessly between buildings, searching out unique textures and anti-cliché shots of the French Quarter culture. Meandering around foreign streets by myself is a freeing experience. I find I become a stranger when I enter into new cities; it's only when I began to meet other strangers do I begin to find out who I am myself.
Perhaps that's why it was so easy to talk to him. He called to me, politely and not vulgar, like you'd anticipate from someone that was seemingly-transient and just a couple blocks off Bourbon Street.
Do you like art? he asked; a rather vague question, but with great potential for conversation. I told him I did, and he said he noticed I had been photographing things with intentionality.
So, what sort of things do you like? he inquired. Textures, I told him. I love textures. Things that don't necessarily stand out as beautiful until you seem them alone, in their all-created glory. He told me he liked textures too, and prefers the texture of the sand of the east-bank of the river, the way that it photographs. He sometimes leaves little treasure behind, hoping that others would find beauty in the objects or be inspired (I would later receive a message from Leah that she found one of his poems tacked to a board at a coffeshop in the Quarter; and a quick google search yielded a little peace he left behind on the sidewalk). He dug around in his little messager bag and asked if I would sit so he could share a treasure with me. He handed me a small, coupon-sized booklet with a fake-money, "ticket to hell" cover, which caused me immediately to revert to internalizing small prayers warding off evil spirits, voodoo, etc. but he seemed harmless, and the words typed on each small leaflet of colored paper were soaked in beauty. I flipped through it, careful of its fragility,
Textures, he repeated. I've written something about textures; do you mind if I share it with you? He dug around a bit more in his bag, opening up a large journal I nearly mistook for a Bible. His debit card was free-floating in his bag and nearly slipped through a crack in the bench. Careful! Don't wanna lose that, I said.
It's the least important thing I own, he confessed as he found an entry scribbled down from August in New York. I closed my eyes as he read it; his speech eloquent, saturated with color, and texture, and drenched in the pseudo romance of the moment so that one completely blind would have created a scene so rich in their own head, no visual could compare. I sopped up every word like a world-famous beignet dipped in cafe au lait, both soaked in sweetness.
He asked if I liked words. Oh, absolutely, I responded. He fumbled few a few more pages with the same intentionality of his speech. Im certain even the most stoic, rigid, cold-hearted person would have become like liquid beneath the fluidity of his words. It was true beauty, if beauty is able to be something that lacks a tangible, quantifiable worth. There was no excess in his word choice, each chosen with purpose and weight, more than enough to be illustrative, too few to seem verbose and over-compensatory.
He spoke of peace and tranquility and zen, and said that there was something light and joyful about me, that it exuded from my persona. Yes, my friend, that is Jesus. I didn't say that, although I wish in hindsight that I would've. But it did open me to ask the Spirit to speak and lead.
Somehow there was a segue from art to zen to peace to doing nothing and simply existing. I told him that's what I did this morning, well, sort of. He asked what it was, and I told him I spent the day at a cafe writing and reading my Bible.
Oh, so you're religious? he asked me. I responded with a hesitation with the world religious. Protestant Christian, I responded to answer him formally, a Bible-believing Christian. I believe in the trinity: God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit. And that peace you talk about, it comes from God, from His Holy Spirit. It's a peace that surpasses all understanding. It transcends the circumstances that dictate that moment should be anything but peaceful. Its in those moments that I realize it is His power in me and through me.
He knew what I was talking about, to an extent at least. oh, I just LOVE God. He is so much more than we can put words to. In fact, trying to describe Him, trying to wrap our finite mind around His infinite being does Him an injustice. We limit Him when we try to use our words to describe Him. He's bigger than we will ever understand. I've written something else about Him, if you don't mind I'd like to share it. He flipped right to it. The pages, chock-full of words and poems and thoughts and the crowded clutter of revelation revealed between ink and lines. His words danced amidst the imagery of his poetry once again. He spoke with resolve and wonder and trembling and peace.
Our conversation continued as he asked me if I had ever been in love. Yes, I answered him. I believe I have. He wrote this poem about love a few weeks ago while in New York, before his girlfriend in New Orleans broke it off with him. it was as beautiful as i can remember love to be.
at some point, i asked him his name. Sebastian, he replied. That's the name of my dog! I said back to him, to which he laughed and said he bet my name wasn't Buck Mulligan. I told him my name and we continued to converse until Leah called and tried to make her way to where I was. I asked if he would mind if I could pray with him, and he ever-so-zealously agreed. As he reached out to grab both my hands, he asked what he should do with his eyes; open, close? I told him that God hardly cares about His eyes; its his heart that He's looking at.
I prayed a simple prayer asking the Father for encouragement and favor to be poured down on Sebastian that afternoon. That He would experience His holy presence and fall more in love with Him today. I thanked Him for the divine encounter we had, and for the sweet gift that Jesus is for us. Amen. and Amen.
He kissed my cheek and thanked me with sincere gratitude as i fumbled through my purse. I hadn't much with me, but I did have 5 Haitian Gourdes to exchange as my piece of treasure to leave behind with him. Aside from a kid outside of Deli Mart, i've never seen a person so excited to receive a coin so low in value. but i could tell, the value of the currency was nothing in comparison to the value of the interaction we just had.
with giggles in my heart over the exchange, i joyfully went about my afternoon thankful for my chance encounter with Sebastian. as a Christian, seeing someone that shares the same awe and reverence of our Creator excites me. speaking truth to him, yet in love and not in any way to sow discord or thinking I have the right to speak pretentiously as if I have all the answers, he needs me to pray for him. I find that there is a fine line between loving a person where they are at, and not speaking truth in order to not offend. however, I also believe that once you offend someone in the name of Christ, very little there after will hold much worth to them. maybe Sebastian knows Jesus. maybe I should've asked. but as Christians living in a world that is not our home, we need to make sure we are being light in the darkness, and pointing to Christ when asked where that light is shining from.
Shine your light. You never know how it may brighten someone's day, illuminate someone's path, or reignite the spark in someone's heart.
Sebastian allowed God's light to shine in him whether or not he realized it.
Monday, October 1, 2012
It exists.
Jesus, you need to I'd appreciate it if you'd choose a place a little less public to speak to my heart than at a middle table in a busy coffee shop. It's hard to squelch the tears without quenching the Spirit or looking an absolute fool in front of complete strangers.
But as I'm reading through the Gospel of Matthew, and furiously underlining and scribbling personal notes on the text in my journal, the momentum of my heart builds, accumulating a pressure so heavy my heart feels like its about to burst and seep out of my eyes.
It has nothing to do with the Words on the page; the reason for the tears. Or maybe it has everything to do with the Word, I don't know, God's ways are higher and more mysterious than one can discern at times.
But in a sweet little whisper as I surveyed the panoramic scene on the wall of the Old City on the riverbank, He spoke to the deepest part of my heart, addressing a concern that has long caused heavy disappointment within. Among many other things, there's a beautiful duality in this city, a place where southern-charm and hospitality co-exist with the romantic, culture, a decorated history, and street-names with French -eaux suffixes. A beautiful combination of two things I have absolutely cherished since I was running around barefoot in my yard wearing a hooped-skirt Belle dress, dreaming I was a sweet-speeched debutant, while teaching myself simple French since the time I had learned how to read. Suddenly this meld of culture that I never knew existed, revealed its reflection of the unexpressed concerns of my heart. How can a duality between two seemingly different cultures, two polar-opposites, truly exist?
The answer is simple: because of Him. He not only knows our deepest desires, but, in many cases (if not all of them), He's place them there. And simply because He is a creative and loving and provisional God, He can, and will, bring them into existence in a beautiful, outward manifestation of the ironic and complicated and seemingly-impossible combination of our heart's desires.
As so much of my heart longs for foreign soil, and the simply-complicated nomadic, missional life of dirty feet and hungry hearts and bellies, the other half of my heart longs for the domestic, landscaped soil of the stable, traditional family life with dirty diapers and hungry babies. The part of me that doesn't mind living out of a suitcase for months at a time, is also extremely dissatisfied by the claustrophobic space of my tiny closet. The part of me that loves the convenience of one-stop grocery shops, prefers the adventure of open-air markets and the uncertainty of finding each ingredient and negotiating a fair price.
The worry has been that these two lives don't exist in the context of each other, but through the complexity and irony of the sweet and savory city that is New Orleans, the Lord has affirmed that it does exist. He has not given me dreams in my heart of mythical proportions. They are indeed God-sized, and through Him alone, all things are possible.
But as I'm reading through the Gospel of Matthew, and furiously underlining and scribbling personal notes on the text in my journal, the momentum of my heart builds, accumulating a pressure so heavy my heart feels like its about to burst and seep out of my eyes.
It has nothing to do with the Words on the page; the reason for the tears. Or maybe it has everything to do with the Word, I don't know, God's ways are higher and more mysterious than one can discern at times.
But in a sweet little whisper as I surveyed the panoramic scene on the wall of the Old City on the riverbank, He spoke to the deepest part of my heart, addressing a concern that has long caused heavy disappointment within. Among many other things, there's a beautiful duality in this city, a place where southern-charm and hospitality co-exist with the romantic, culture, a decorated history, and street-names with French -eaux suffixes. A beautiful combination of two things I have absolutely cherished since I was running around barefoot in my yard wearing a hooped-skirt Belle dress, dreaming I was a sweet-speeched debutant, while teaching myself simple French since the time I had learned how to read. Suddenly this meld of culture that I never knew existed, revealed its reflection of the unexpressed concerns of my heart. How can a duality between two seemingly different cultures, two polar-opposites, truly exist?
The answer is simple: because of Him. He not only knows our deepest desires, but, in many cases (if not all of them), He's place them there. And simply because He is a creative and loving and provisional God, He can, and will, bring them into existence in a beautiful, outward manifestation of the ironic and complicated and seemingly-impossible combination of our heart's desires.
As so much of my heart longs for foreign soil, and the simply-complicated nomadic, missional life of dirty feet and hungry hearts and bellies, the other half of my heart longs for the domestic, landscaped soil of the stable, traditional family life with dirty diapers and hungry babies. The part of me that doesn't mind living out of a suitcase for months at a time, is also extremely dissatisfied by the claustrophobic space of my tiny closet. The part of me that loves the convenience of one-stop grocery shops, prefers the adventure of open-air markets and the uncertainty of finding each ingredient and negotiating a fair price.
The worry has been that these two lives don't exist in the context of each other, but through the complexity and irony of the sweet and savory city that is New Orleans, the Lord has affirmed that it does exist. He has not given me dreams in my heart of mythical proportions. They are indeed God-sized, and through Him alone, all things are possible.
Friday, September 28, 2012
good tidings
it's been a while. but, when my computer time is still set on eastern time from being home and in Haiti this summer... what more can you expect.
it's fall break. and that means one thing: my annual quarter-- err... closer to mid..... -life crisis is impending. it happens every year. things slow down long enough for me to breathe, reflect, assess, and begin to dream, and them BAM! it happens; that stir in my heart and that itch between my toes. i'm waiting out this storm, ironically enough, in New Orleans for a few days at the beginning of break. God's been speaking to me about what He's going to be speaking to me about, and something tells me i'm in the seat of a roller coaster that's about to leave the bay.
i realized i'm in my late twenties now. so, there's that. it took mumford and sons to tell me that. mainly, their new album is to my late twenties as dashboard was to my late teens, and then it hit me, late twenties. blech.
i bought a new car. as in, a brand new car. with a lonnnnggggg contract signed in ink at the very bottom with my name, and no one else's. it was pretty much the single-most adult-ifying moment of my life as to date. and, i have major commitment issues, so i may have slighted diverted a few panic attacks in the drivers seat by fiddling with the XM radio a bit (which i'm currently obsessed with!). its a new Hyundai Elantra, and i seriously love it so much. i'm thankful to be in a position where i can finally afford a car payment, even if it means Taco Bell becomes a luxury.
school has been a real challenge this year, to be terribly honest. i find myself physically exhausted at the end of everyday, and 3 of the 5 past nights have ended in a 9 p.m. bedtime, 2 of which aided by tylenol p.m.
i've miraculously (thank-you-Jesus!) rounded the bend in my anxiety, and don't really know where the turning point happened, but know that I am able to look back and not recognize that state of agony, although that doesn't entirely mean circumstances have changed or peace has come; it's more just a God's-got-it-and-clearly-i-don't sort of thing. that being said, i'm not overwhelmingly joyful in this season, but it's hard to exude happiness in refining fire.
but, praise God for the refining! praise God in pain, in storms, in trials, in failure. praise God that He can take my mess and turn it into testimony. and praise Him for allowing me to see simple glimpses of His unfolding plan. He's a good and gracious Father.
eager to tell you more after this week. grateful for a chance to breathe and spend with Him. amen and amen.
it's fall break. and that means one thing: my annual quarter-- err... closer to mid..... -life crisis is impending. it happens every year. things slow down long enough for me to breathe, reflect, assess, and begin to dream, and them BAM! it happens; that stir in my heart and that itch between my toes. i'm waiting out this storm, ironically enough, in New Orleans for a few days at the beginning of break. God's been speaking to me about what He's going to be speaking to me about, and something tells me i'm in the seat of a roller coaster that's about to leave the bay.
i realized i'm in my late twenties now. so, there's that. it took mumford and sons to tell me that. mainly, their new album is to my late twenties as dashboard was to my late teens, and then it hit me, late twenties. blech.
i bought a new car. as in, a brand new car. with a lonnnnggggg contract signed in ink at the very bottom with my name, and no one else's. it was pretty much the single-most adult-ifying moment of my life as to date. and, i have major commitment issues, so i may have slighted diverted a few panic attacks in the drivers seat by fiddling with the XM radio a bit (which i'm currently obsessed with!). its a new Hyundai Elantra, and i seriously love it so much. i'm thankful to be in a position where i can finally afford a car payment, even if it means Taco Bell becomes a luxury.
school has been a real challenge this year, to be terribly honest. i find myself physically exhausted at the end of everyday, and 3 of the 5 past nights have ended in a 9 p.m. bedtime, 2 of which aided by tylenol p.m.
i've miraculously (thank-you-Jesus!) rounded the bend in my anxiety, and don't really know where the turning point happened, but know that I am able to look back and not recognize that state of agony, although that doesn't entirely mean circumstances have changed or peace has come; it's more just a God's-got-it-and-clearly-i-don't sort of thing. that being said, i'm not overwhelmingly joyful in this season, but it's hard to exude happiness in refining fire.
but, praise God for the refining! praise God in pain, in storms, in trials, in failure. praise God that He can take my mess and turn it into testimony. and praise Him for allowing me to see simple glimpses of His unfolding plan. He's a good and gracious Father.
eager to tell you more after this week. grateful for a chance to breathe and spend with Him. amen and amen.
Monday, September 17, 2012
yappy yippy happy
i got home this evening, and was eagerly greeted by my sweet little yorkie, sebastian, full of wags and licks and more impressive jumps than i'd expect from and NBA all-star. he didn't even pay any mind to the bag of leftovers i'd brought home from my favorite burrito place and set on the bed.
typically, he's comfortable enough with me, that if there is anything remotely edible in my hand, he wants at it. the little guy knows when i'm cutting tomatoes in the kitchen, and will stand right at the edge of the kitchen cart waiting for the treats to fall.
but its this time, when he's uninterested in what i can do for him, what treat i have to give him, what he can sit there and beg, beg, beg for-- it's those times in which i see his pure contentment to just be in my presence.
how much more should we be excited to enter into the presence of the Lord? how much more should we be so consumed with him, that that mighty tasty left-over baja doesn't even cross our mind as our first priority and desire?
i'm all about approaching the throne in expectation and petition and thanksgiving, as He charges us to do. but i wonder, how much more pleasing it must be to him, when all we truly desire, all that truly excites us, is just being in His presence and licking His face.
typically, he's comfortable enough with me, that if there is anything remotely edible in my hand, he wants at it. the little guy knows when i'm cutting tomatoes in the kitchen, and will stand right at the edge of the kitchen cart waiting for the treats to fall.
but its this time, when he's uninterested in what i can do for him, what treat i have to give him, what he can sit there and beg, beg, beg for-- it's those times in which i see his pure contentment to just be in my presence.
how much more should we be excited to enter into the presence of the Lord? how much more should we be so consumed with him, that that mighty tasty left-over baja doesn't even cross our mind as our first priority and desire?
i'm all about approaching the throne in expectation and petition and thanksgiving, as He charges us to do. but i wonder, how much more pleasing it must be to him, when all we truly desire, all that truly excites us, is just being in His presence and licking His face.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
how deep the father's love for us.
behold the man upon the cross
my sin upon His shoulders
ashamed, i hear my mocking voice
call out among the scoffers
***
some days, i feel like the worst teacher in the world.
days like today. when i'm spending my "planning" period writing a blog instead of working on this week's PLC meeting notes that are due tomorrow. days like today, when my frustration level seems to increase with the frequency of their misbehavior; both inversely related to my patience levels. days when the projects i stayed after to work on til 6 last night, are torn to shreds, the laminate pulled from them, rendering the (expensive) velcro dots on the back useless in attaching them to the chart they are supposed to adhere to. when students yell "no!" on the carpet. when no matter how much love i pour out, or even pretend to pour out, it seems its not enough to cover their disrespect or trick them into following my direction. even in front of my evaluator.
just like i'm certain my evaluation today will reflect, i sometimes feel like i'm the worst teacher in the world. and not for your pity, or recompense of "you're fantastic!" i'm not. i'm broken. i'm hateful. i'm angry. i'm impatient. i'm spiteful. i'm fake. i'm so easily aggrivated. i'm worse than i am on day three of the daniel fast and suffering caffiene and chocolate withdrawls. i most certainly am the worst teacher in the world.
***
it was my sin that held Him there
until it was accomplished
***
i lift my tear-filled eyes to Him, as He answers my desperate plea to rescue me from my own ugliness. i can't even look at Him, in my dirtyness. i'm too unclean to even pray through this, i think to myself. i have no place here, with these kids. i haven't the love for them like He tells me i should. i haven't the strength to even choose the high-road around 5-year-olds. Lord, how come i can not rise above this? why can i not choose love? why is it so hard? why was this morning a wreck? is it my fault? is it theres? how could i have avoided any of that stuff?
i reconsidered the details of my morning. i rehearsed my lesson in the shower. i talked through it start-to-finish during my morning commute, complete with every 'kiss your brain!' and '5 seconds to 5 star listener!' i figured i would need to interpose. i sacrificed my morning prayer time to practice my lesson, as if one more, one-sided roll-play within an utopian vaccum was really going to be what distinguished me as a "rock-solid-teacher," as they like to say here.
His Spirit spoke to my heart in the same way that listerine begins to burn your gums as you swish it about in your mouth; there was a sting, but, it's cleaning away the plaque. You sacrificed your time with Me. You spent time preparing for a lesson that looks perfect on paper; the way you truly would've taught it regardless if someone was in there or not. You couldn't have foreseen those issues. Nothing that happened today was anything more preparation would have saved you from. you could've spent your time with Me, soaking in the Peace of My presence. you couldn't predict what would happen, but you could prepare for how to respond. your heart and attitude is one thing you could've prepared, in order to respond in grace and patience. instead, you responded with your flesh. you responded by letting your own disappointment get the best of you. you let it eat away at the joy that was already depleated, and in need of replinishing from me. my desire was to give you peace, not as the world, or a good evaluation would give. but peace that would surpass the troubles of your heart and lead you confidently past fear of failure into My glory.
***
His dying breath, He gave me life
***
my head hung between my hands, as heavy as my heart. i'm so sorry Lord. I'm not only the very worst teacher, i'm also the very worst Christian. scratch that-- the very worst sinner. I can't even look at myself. how on earth am I ever going to be successful (in the classroom) this year like this? if it is consistently this hard?
just then, two of my students from last year walk in. i quickly dry my eyes and sit up proper at my desk. they are eager to share some of their writing from today; a book about dogs and a list of how to be respectful written on the back of a picture of two dolphins spouting off water from their blowhole into the sunset. little did they know, they were angels cloaked in crayola hues and tutus. a very tangible reminder of the progress that my kiddos will make. of the love that they will have for me, (and me for them) at the end of this road. as fabulous as those kiddos' new teacher is, she didn't teach them to write that book or come up with ways to help friends: that was taught in my class, last year. i watched as they learned how to form letters for the first time, as they took h-o-u-r-s to complete one illustration in their journal. these kiddos were once like the kiddos in my class (albeit a little better behaved), and look how they've progressed. see how they love? see how they remember you? how they even say, "how could we ever forget you?!" you've made a difference. you will continue to make a difference. as they hugged me goodbye, it might as well have been Jesus Himself wrapping His arms around my heart, reminding me of Love.
***
i know that it is finished.
***
the day is done. i made the long trek back to my room in the corner of the school from dismissal in the gym. as the sea of first- and second-graders swam downstream past me, i silently said to myself, the day is done, it is water under the bridge.
He chimed in, be like Noah; build a boat.
i say so often, it's water under the bridge. i say that it doesn't matter, hoping that will trick me into believe it. but to move on, i need to build a boat, and get over it. truly let it fall off, just like the sins and chains of my past. we've got to let go of the failures that shackle us to the cell of negativity. we need to see them, upon the sides and shoulders and exposed sinew of our Savior, and trust that He has spilled the blood for them already. we lay them down, so we can pick up the Peace, not the pieces.
***
i will not boast in anything
no gifts, no power, no wisdom
but i will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection
why should I gain from His reward
i can not give an answer
but this i know with all my heart,
His wounds have paid my ransom.
***
i may have not suceeded at much today. i loosened my heart's tether to the Lord. i acted in bitterness towards my students instead of in love. i looked, and felt, like a failure in front of my administration. but there is one thing that gives me hope: Jesus Christ, and the fact that He has the victory. my worth is not determined on some scuewed five-point scale, in which 3 means rock-solid (truly, that's how it's set up). my worth is not wrapped up in a scroll cataloguing the list of my sins and failures and disappointments. i don't know why, but He values me more than those things, especially when we are a culture-- a human race, that prides ourselves in out-performing each other. He values me, in spite of the things that make me so ugly and feel so worthless. so much so, that He gave His life for it. so, for that, there's tomorrow. really, there's right now. there's this afternoon, and knowing that it is truly finished and no amount of worry or blood-infused sweat will change what transpired today. i do know this: tomorrow's drive to school will be filled with nothing more than worship of my King, and soaking in His presence before going about doing anything else.
my sin upon His shoulders
ashamed, i hear my mocking voice
call out among the scoffers
***
some days, i feel like the worst teacher in the world.
days like today. when i'm spending my "planning" period writing a blog instead of working on this week's PLC meeting notes that are due tomorrow. days like today, when my frustration level seems to increase with the frequency of their misbehavior; both inversely related to my patience levels. days when the projects i stayed after to work on til 6 last night, are torn to shreds, the laminate pulled from them, rendering the (expensive) velcro dots on the back useless in attaching them to the chart they are supposed to adhere to. when students yell "no!" on the carpet. when no matter how much love i pour out, or even pretend to pour out, it seems its not enough to cover their disrespect or trick them into following my direction. even in front of my evaluator.
just like i'm certain my evaluation today will reflect, i sometimes feel like i'm the worst teacher in the world. and not for your pity, or recompense of "you're fantastic!" i'm not. i'm broken. i'm hateful. i'm angry. i'm impatient. i'm spiteful. i'm fake. i'm so easily aggrivated. i'm worse than i am on day three of the daniel fast and suffering caffiene and chocolate withdrawls. i most certainly am the worst teacher in the world.
***
it was my sin that held Him there
until it was accomplished
***
i lift my tear-filled eyes to Him, as He answers my desperate plea to rescue me from my own ugliness. i can't even look at Him, in my dirtyness. i'm too unclean to even pray through this, i think to myself. i have no place here, with these kids. i haven't the love for them like He tells me i should. i haven't the strength to even choose the high-road around 5-year-olds. Lord, how come i can not rise above this? why can i not choose love? why is it so hard? why was this morning a wreck? is it my fault? is it theres? how could i have avoided any of that stuff?
i reconsidered the details of my morning. i rehearsed my lesson in the shower. i talked through it start-to-finish during my morning commute, complete with every 'kiss your brain!' and '5 seconds to 5 star listener!' i figured i would need to interpose. i sacrificed my morning prayer time to practice my lesson, as if one more, one-sided roll-play within an utopian vaccum was really going to be what distinguished me as a "rock-solid-teacher," as they like to say here.
His Spirit spoke to my heart in the same way that listerine begins to burn your gums as you swish it about in your mouth; there was a sting, but, it's cleaning away the plaque. You sacrificed your time with Me. You spent time preparing for a lesson that looks perfect on paper; the way you truly would've taught it regardless if someone was in there or not. You couldn't have foreseen those issues. Nothing that happened today was anything more preparation would have saved you from. you could've spent your time with Me, soaking in the Peace of My presence. you couldn't predict what would happen, but you could prepare for how to respond. your heart and attitude is one thing you could've prepared, in order to respond in grace and patience. instead, you responded with your flesh. you responded by letting your own disappointment get the best of you. you let it eat away at the joy that was already depleated, and in need of replinishing from me. my desire was to give you peace, not as the world, or a good evaluation would give. but peace that would surpass the troubles of your heart and lead you confidently past fear of failure into My glory.
***
His dying breath, He gave me life
***
my head hung between my hands, as heavy as my heart. i'm so sorry Lord. I'm not only the very worst teacher, i'm also the very worst Christian. scratch that-- the very worst sinner. I can't even look at myself. how on earth am I ever going to be successful (in the classroom) this year like this? if it is consistently this hard?
just then, two of my students from last year walk in. i quickly dry my eyes and sit up proper at my desk. they are eager to share some of their writing from today; a book about dogs and a list of how to be respectful written on the back of a picture of two dolphins spouting off water from their blowhole into the sunset. little did they know, they were angels cloaked in crayola hues and tutus. a very tangible reminder of the progress that my kiddos will make. of the love that they will have for me, (and me for them) at the end of this road. as fabulous as those kiddos' new teacher is, she didn't teach them to write that book or come up with ways to help friends: that was taught in my class, last year. i watched as they learned how to form letters for the first time, as they took h-o-u-r-s to complete one illustration in their journal. these kiddos were once like the kiddos in my class (albeit a little better behaved), and look how they've progressed. see how they love? see how they remember you? how they even say, "how could we ever forget you?!" you've made a difference. you will continue to make a difference. as they hugged me goodbye, it might as well have been Jesus Himself wrapping His arms around my heart, reminding me of Love.
***
i know that it is finished.
***
the day is done. i made the long trek back to my room in the corner of the school from dismissal in the gym. as the sea of first- and second-graders swam downstream past me, i silently said to myself, the day is done, it is water under the bridge.
He chimed in, be like Noah; build a boat.
i say so often, it's water under the bridge. i say that it doesn't matter, hoping that will trick me into believe it. but to move on, i need to build a boat, and get over it. truly let it fall off, just like the sins and chains of my past. we've got to let go of the failures that shackle us to the cell of negativity. we need to see them, upon the sides and shoulders and exposed sinew of our Savior, and trust that He has spilled the blood for them already. we lay them down, so we can pick up the Peace, not the pieces.
***
i will not boast in anything
no gifts, no power, no wisdom
but i will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection
why should I gain from His reward
i can not give an answer
but this i know with all my heart,
His wounds have paid my ransom.
***
i may have not suceeded at much today. i loosened my heart's tether to the Lord. i acted in bitterness towards my students instead of in love. i looked, and felt, like a failure in front of my administration. but there is one thing that gives me hope: Jesus Christ, and the fact that He has the victory. my worth is not determined on some scuewed five-point scale, in which 3 means rock-solid (truly, that's how it's set up). my worth is not wrapped up in a scroll cataloguing the list of my sins and failures and disappointments. i don't know why, but He values me more than those things, especially when we are a culture-- a human race, that prides ourselves in out-performing each other. He values me, in spite of the things that make me so ugly and feel so worthless. so much so, that He gave His life for it. so, for that, there's tomorrow. really, there's right now. there's this afternoon, and knowing that it is truly finished and no amount of worry or blood-infused sweat will change what transpired today. i do know this: tomorrow's drive to school will be filled with nothing more than worship of my King, and soaking in His presence before going about doing anything else.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
psalm one.
Psalm 1
1 How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, Nor stand in the path of sinners, Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD, And in His law he meditates day and night.3 He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, Which yields its fruit in its season And its leaf does not wither; And in whatever he does, he prospers.4 The wicked are not so, But they are like chaff which the wind drives away.5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.6 For the LORD knows the way of the righteous, But the way of the wicked will perish.
in a way that only the Lord can bring joy to your heart and tears of blessing to your eyes, the Holy Spirit spoke through these ancient words in the quietest and simplest of ways. so often, we miss the details, the little side-streets in the passing. it's not a bad thing; but sometimes, we just get the bigger picture. this morning, i missed the big picture. and that's how He planned it for me. my eyes hung long on that little added detail, noticing a beauty that had not yet been uncovered, revealed by the wisdom of His Spirit and the tiny whispering voice that brings comfort and peace to the weariest of souls.
"He will be like a tree, firmly planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in its season..."
Do you see that? You are a tree. Stop chiding yourself for having your roots deep into the stream and not yet seeing fruit. Fruit is yielded in its season. You have just been pruned. You are not in a season of fruit-producing. You are in a season in which you need to drink Me in, from the source. to be replenished by my love. Your fruitless season is one of beauty, not shame. Rest assured, this is a season. and I am the River of Life that flows effortlessly beside you; I shall not be moved, and I shall cover your needs, forever.
be the church.
since returning to nashville, i've had to make a few decisions regarding my church home. this post will not chronicle the process, nor really comment on it; instead, that will just serve as the diving board of obsession that has sent me into a tail-spin tizzy in making sure i was in 'the church God had for me.'
and when i call it an obsession, i mean nothing short of the word. the process was vile, and not accompanied with the peace of the Lord. the not knowing, the un-assuredness in the decision making was torturous in the most unholy of ways. i went back and forth more often and unpredictably than a game of badminton, and let's be real, badminton can get reeeaaalll rowdy.
and then, God called me out on it.
it began on my knees in front of my couch two sundays ago. i "slept-in" til 7, and was wide awake, so i got up and did a few things around the house, until my spirit was totally arrested by the Lord in the best way possible.
stop fighting me. stop looking for me in "church". if you think i'll only be pleased with you if you choose the "right" building to call "home," you're doing this wrong. you're putting all the emphasis on what shall be your "covering;" don't you know, I AM your covering? (Psalm 91:4; Hebrews 4). I AM your High Priest that goes before you, to whom you are accountable. if your faith is in your church, it will fail. if your faith is in your pastor, he will fail. if your faith is confined to four walls, in which you feel better about because you affectionately call them home, they will fail. I will not fail you. Daughter, put your faith in Me. be consumed with Me. let Me show you that I am not limited to a building you call church.
i've realized that it actually didn't begin, nor end, there, on my knees before the Lord. He certainly has made a point to not be contained to my ideals as to what church should resemble. instead, He's shown up in the most ironic places; teaching me that if i only recognize His presence in a building with a title that ends in "church," i'm doing it all wrong. He's breathed conviction and reconciliation of truth onto my heart in a McDonald's drive-thru. He's spoken to me more humbly and personally on the bed of a tattoo parlor than any church pew as of lately. and He's been ever present in the midst of a Saturday-marathon of taco dip, pajamas, and the first chill of fall. He knew one Sunday i would've missed it if I were sitting with my Bible taking someone else's sermon notes. so, He had me skip church, yet inadvertently meet Him with a revelation of freedom and flautas on the patio at Chuy's in Mid-town.
in these moments, these places, i've brought Him more glory than I could at the foot of any alter. I've heard more clearly than I have in moments of fervent prayer. i've seen his Hand more visibly at work than in some of the conquests we slap His name on. church is important. family is important. but, if it becomes about solely church or family, we have simply missed the Biblical call to be the church in the world. His charge for the great commission said go into the world, not the church, and make disciples. i'm slowly learning the balance, without limiting Him to a place or time penciled in on my day planner.
that sunday morning, He met me before church even began. and truth be told, it will forever mark a turning point in this walk marred with difficulty in this leg of the journey. He has turned things around, and given me a new perspective on the size, and billboard, of His kingdom.
and when i call it an obsession, i mean nothing short of the word. the process was vile, and not accompanied with the peace of the Lord. the not knowing, the un-assuredness in the decision making was torturous in the most unholy of ways. i went back and forth more often and unpredictably than a game of badminton, and let's be real, badminton can get reeeaaalll rowdy.
and then, God called me out on it.
it began on my knees in front of my couch two sundays ago. i "slept-in" til 7, and was wide awake, so i got up and did a few things around the house, until my spirit was totally arrested by the Lord in the best way possible.
stop fighting me. stop looking for me in "church". if you think i'll only be pleased with you if you choose the "right" building to call "home," you're doing this wrong. you're putting all the emphasis on what shall be your "covering;" don't you know, I AM your covering? (Psalm 91:4; Hebrews 4). I AM your High Priest that goes before you, to whom you are accountable. if your faith is in your church, it will fail. if your faith is in your pastor, he will fail. if your faith is confined to four walls, in which you feel better about because you affectionately call them home, they will fail. I will not fail you. Daughter, put your faith in Me. be consumed with Me. let Me show you that I am not limited to a building you call church.
i've realized that it actually didn't begin, nor end, there, on my knees before the Lord. He certainly has made a point to not be contained to my ideals as to what church should resemble. instead, He's shown up in the most ironic places; teaching me that if i only recognize His presence in a building with a title that ends in "church," i'm doing it all wrong. He's breathed conviction and reconciliation of truth onto my heart in a McDonald's drive-thru. He's spoken to me more humbly and personally on the bed of a tattoo parlor than any church pew as of lately. and He's been ever present in the midst of a Saturday-marathon of taco dip, pajamas, and the first chill of fall. He knew one Sunday i would've missed it if I were sitting with my Bible taking someone else's sermon notes. so, He had me skip church, yet inadvertently meet Him with a revelation of freedom and flautas on the patio at Chuy's in Mid-town.
in these moments, these places, i've brought Him more glory than I could at the foot of any alter. I've heard more clearly than I have in moments of fervent prayer. i've seen his Hand more visibly at work than in some of the conquests we slap His name on. church is important. family is important. but, if it becomes about solely church or family, we have simply missed the Biblical call to be the church in the world. His charge for the great commission said go into the world, not the church, and make disciples. i'm slowly learning the balance, without limiting Him to a place or time penciled in on my day planner.
that sunday morning, He met me before church even began. and truth be told, it will forever mark a turning point in this walk marred with difficulty in this leg of the journey. He has turned things around, and given me a new perspective on the size, and billboard, of His kingdom.
***
Ephesians 4:20-25 NLT
20 But that isn’t what you learned about Christ.21 Since you have heard about Jesus and have learned the truth that comes from him,22 throw off your old sinful nature and your former way of life, which is corrupted by lust and deception.23 Instead, let the Spirit renew your thoughts and attitudes.
24 Put on your new nature, created to be like God—truly righteous and holy.
25 So stop telling lies. Let us tell our neighbors the truth, for we are all parts of the same body
Royalty
I am royalty.
I have destiny.
I have been set free.
I'm gunna shape history.
With an anemic melody, I sang along with the words; just another voice in the hundreds present for the worship night with Jesus Culture, a Spirit-led worship group out of Redding, CA.
That's funny, I thought. I sure don't feel like royalty. And as of lately, my destiny looked a little bleak, more or less just trying to get by. And being set free? Well. Yeah. But i feel more like fake-it-til-ya-make-it right about now. Shaping history? That's for people with doctorates and lots of money, which I wouldn't mind either of those but don't see them in my near future.
You see, this funk has really been bending the truth.
I know somewhere in my heart these things to be true. But feeling them, believing them for right now? I've got some progress to make on that.
The lead vocalist stopped singing and began exhorting.
Do you feel like you don't fit in? Do you feel like you weren't made for this? It's because you're not. We're not made for this world. We're made to look different, to sound different, to act different. Stop singing these words like a church choir. Sing them like you mean them. Like you know your Father is the King of Heaven. Let Him transform your heart, your life. Go deeper, higher, than ever before.
As He finished his charge to us, the Lord began to speak to my heart as I sang these words from a new place.
You ARE royalty, Rhiannon. Your Daddy is the High King of Heaven, the Holy of Holy's. You are a daughter of mine. You have inheritance in My Kingdom. You have not been excluded. Your destiny, it's what you're doing in this very moment. To live honestly, open to My Holy Presence. To worship me, from exactly where you are. And my dear, you have indeed been set free, Consider all the things I have brought you out of, into your full purpose in me. And don't you worry about shaping History; you already have. For every person you have loved out of My love. For every word of truth youve spoken to change the tone of someone's day. For every orphan you've hugged and loved and shown that they matter, to this world and to Me. You are changing history for those I love. That's better than any History book you'll find in school.
With a fresh dose of His peace, I sang the words, confident in my identity in I'm once again. It's not always easy. I forget more often than not that I'm not the person I see in the mirror, that I'm not a sum of my past mistakes any longer.
I am royalty. I have destiny. I have been set free. I'm gunna shape history.
I have destiny.
I have been set free.
I'm gunna shape history.
With an anemic melody, I sang along with the words; just another voice in the hundreds present for the worship night with Jesus Culture, a Spirit-led worship group out of Redding, CA.
That's funny, I thought. I sure don't feel like royalty. And as of lately, my destiny looked a little bleak, more or less just trying to get by. And being set free? Well. Yeah. But i feel more like fake-it-til-ya-make-it right about now. Shaping history? That's for people with doctorates and lots of money, which I wouldn't mind either of those but don't see them in my near future.
You see, this funk has really been bending the truth.
I know somewhere in my heart these things to be true. But feeling them, believing them for right now? I've got some progress to make on that.
The lead vocalist stopped singing and began exhorting.
Do you feel like you don't fit in? Do you feel like you weren't made for this? It's because you're not. We're not made for this world. We're made to look different, to sound different, to act different. Stop singing these words like a church choir. Sing them like you mean them. Like you know your Father is the King of Heaven. Let Him transform your heart, your life. Go deeper, higher, than ever before.
As He finished his charge to us, the Lord began to speak to my heart as I sang these words from a new place.
You ARE royalty, Rhiannon. Your Daddy is the High King of Heaven, the Holy of Holy's. You are a daughter of mine. You have inheritance in My Kingdom. You have not been excluded. Your destiny, it's what you're doing in this very moment. To live honestly, open to My Holy Presence. To worship me, from exactly where you are. And my dear, you have indeed been set free, Consider all the things I have brought you out of, into your full purpose in me. And don't you worry about shaping History; you already have. For every person you have loved out of My love. For every word of truth youve spoken to change the tone of someone's day. For every orphan you've hugged and loved and shown that they matter, to this world and to Me. You are changing history for those I love. That's better than any History book you'll find in school.
With a fresh dose of His peace, I sang the words, confident in my identity in I'm once again. It's not always easy. I forget more often than not that I'm not the person I see in the mirror, that I'm not a sum of my past mistakes any longer.
I am royalty. I have destiny. I have been set free. I'm gunna shape history.
Ephesians 1:7-14
7-10 Because of the sacrifice of the Messiah, his blood poured out on the altar of the Cross, we're a free people—free of penalties and punishments chalked up by all our misdeeds. And not just barely free, either. Abundantly free! He thought of everything, provided for everything we could possibly need, letting us in on the plans he took such delight in making. He set it all out before us in Christ, a long-range plan in which everything would be brought together and summed up in him, everything in deepest heaven, everything on planet earth.
11-12 It's in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, he had his eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose he is working out in everything and everyone.
13-14 It's in Christ that you, once you heard the truth and believed it (this Message of your salvation), found yourselves home free—signed, sealed, and delivered by the Holy Spirit. This signet from God is the first installment on what's coming, a reminder that we'll get everything God has planned for us, a praising and glorious life.
Monday, September 3, 2012
little nuggets of wisdom
sharing my struggles as of lately, i have received tiny little nuggets of wisdom that have really given perspective and shed much light on this journey.
i hope to catalogue some of them here, for reminders sake.
my sweet friend Leah, whom i met while in Haiti in 2010, is a wealth of wisdom. without hesitation, i shared my difficulties and she offered word after wise word. as i sorted out my thoughts before her, she said a few things that really stuck out (of course, now that I actually get to blogging them, I can only remember one...!): "you're really good at transitioning into; you just can't quite seem to transition back."
she's so right. i've mastered the book-a-ticket-and-go in three weeks time. i can pack and get outta here faster than you can say, m'ap veni! but returning is a different story. it's not that i don't love nashville, or my friends here, or whats going on within the church here. its not that at all. its just that usually when you travel to a new place, your eyes ignite with excitement as they take in the previously unforeseen sights. more than that, i seem little phased by them. they seem, familiar. like home. more like home than coming home felt. and that leaves me feeling, well, homeless.
I've also gotten really accustomed to living out of a suitcase. there's no sense of permanence. this drives most people mad. and admittedly, i felt the same while i was in Haiti. i longed for a closet. for the rest of my wardrobe. but relinquishing my limited supply to choose from for an unending amount of clothes is a difficult transition, when all you want to do is burn everything you own, or give it away; but then you think of how much you really do like those white linen pants and how you forgot about that precious dress from H&M.
this post is not shaping up the way it did 2 weeks ago when i pre-drafted it in my head.
after sharing with a friend of mine that called the other day, he said something that i think my heart has caught onto quicker than my head. "just keep doing what you're doing. go with what you know, and God will make it clear if there's a path you're supposed to take."
so i'm doing that. in so many areas of my life, i'm doing that. i'm barely holding on in some places, but I just keep going, until God says otherwise.
serving in the church nursery yesterday, Philipians 4:6 was in no less than 19 places in the room. i don't think it was a coincidence, considering i started with the babies, was moved to the toddlers, and wound up in this room of 2's and 3's and do-not-be-anxious-in-anything's.
"God says three things: yes. no. and wait," Ms. Candy repeated over and over and over to these little ones, as the Holy Spirit repeated it over and over and over to my little heart.
so, if He's not saying yes ... and he's not saying no ... i guess i know what He's telling me to do. but wait does not mean sit on your hands and do nothing until you hear. it means keep moving. I'll tell you when to switch paths.
small nuggets accounted for today. many more to come.
i hope to catalogue some of them here, for reminders sake.
my sweet friend Leah, whom i met while in Haiti in 2010, is a wealth of wisdom. without hesitation, i shared my difficulties and she offered word after wise word. as i sorted out my thoughts before her, she said a few things that really stuck out (of course, now that I actually get to blogging them, I can only remember one...!): "you're really good at transitioning into; you just can't quite seem to transition back."
she's so right. i've mastered the book-a-ticket-and-go in three weeks time. i can pack and get outta here faster than you can say, m'ap veni! but returning is a different story. it's not that i don't love nashville, or my friends here, or whats going on within the church here. its not that at all. its just that usually when you travel to a new place, your eyes ignite with excitement as they take in the previously unforeseen sights. more than that, i seem little phased by them. they seem, familiar. like home. more like home than coming home felt. and that leaves me feeling, well, homeless.
I've also gotten really accustomed to living out of a suitcase. there's no sense of permanence. this drives most people mad. and admittedly, i felt the same while i was in Haiti. i longed for a closet. for the rest of my wardrobe. but relinquishing my limited supply to choose from for an unending amount of clothes is a difficult transition, when all you want to do is burn everything you own, or give it away; but then you think of how much you really do like those white linen pants and how you forgot about that precious dress from H&M.
this post is not shaping up the way it did 2 weeks ago when i pre-drafted it in my head.
after sharing with a friend of mine that called the other day, he said something that i think my heart has caught onto quicker than my head. "just keep doing what you're doing. go with what you know, and God will make it clear if there's a path you're supposed to take."
so i'm doing that. in so many areas of my life, i'm doing that. i'm barely holding on in some places, but I just keep going, until God says otherwise.
serving in the church nursery yesterday, Philipians 4:6 was in no less than 19 places in the room. i don't think it was a coincidence, considering i started with the babies, was moved to the toddlers, and wound up in this room of 2's and 3's and do-not-be-anxious-in-anything's.
"God says three things: yes. no. and wait," Ms. Candy repeated over and over and over to these little ones, as the Holy Spirit repeated it over and over and over to my little heart.
so, if He's not saying yes ... and he's not saying no ... i guess i know what He's telling me to do. but wait does not mean sit on your hands and do nothing until you hear. it means keep moving. I'll tell you when to switch paths.
small nuggets accounted for today. many more to come.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
step one: unpack.
You may not have noticed my absence, but trust me, it's been intentional. I've been ignoring you in worse ways than I used to find any menial thing to do before writing a paper in college (hey, at least then that meant my house was spotless and my kitchen full of every baked good you could ever crave!)
I'm not sure why I've not been ale to write. Even when I haven't had the time, I've still had moments where I really could've done it. I've opened up this page half a dozen times, but the words never came, or they came too many at once, and it's a million times easier to click that little "x" at the top of the page than it is to sort through any of them.
I've been home from Haiti for over a month now. Back in Nashville for four weeks already. For the better part of that time, I've been dealing with an enslaught of emotion from reentry. Knowing it wasn't as long of a time, nor was it as dramatic of a change this second time around, I really didn't anticipate being so depressed coming back. But I was, perhaps still am, and it's been really hard to shake if we're being honest. Which, by God's good grace, I've been able to be real honest. To just about anyone that asks. #sorryboutit.
This post alone is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions mixed together, and unable to separate, like two colors of playdoh that have been forever swirled into one. You can thank my kinders for that illustration. Perhaps I haven't written, because the thought of sorting through my thoughts and feelings and the sources of them is too overwhelming on its own. Much like just about every part of life I've been dealing with. Much of my wardrobe is till strewn about the house. Tubs still remain in the attic, my dresser remains half-empty, and the clothes I spent 10 weeks in this summer are still piled not-so-neatly in the living room.
Facing reality has been overwhelming. I'm literally only able to do it one baby-step at a time. It seems that I make huge advances, only to be followed by a wall of obstacles the next day that remind me that this is a war, and each day is only a battle. Last weekend, I ventured up to the attic, at the God-sent-request of a friend to host a yard sale. I went through a majority of my storage tubs into the wee-hours of Saturday morning, accompanied by a pot of coffee and Ferngully (both consumed in full). After sorting through tub after tub of my belongings, I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of clothes I had procured over the years. There is no way these all fit in my room, as they are barely contained in their space in the attic! I must've purged half of what I own, knocking my pants and jeans in half. That thought of the initial cost and value of everything I carelessly tossed in the take-it-out-of-my-life pile made me nauseous.
Cleaning up after the garage sale was another huge task to unveil. After getting everything out of my house, I now had a surplus of stuff that didn't sell that I didn't want to return back in, for fear it might never leave again. (reminded of that verse about casting out demons and cleaning house, only for them to return seven-fold, and how it would've just been better to never cast out the one in the first place. Well that's encouraging.). Even though I had sorted through and purged the excess, I couldn't find the strength to actually return the rest of it to my room. To actually un-pack it and deal with it. I'm so cognizant of the physical-spiritual-emotional manifestation of parallels in this situation.
i've been avoiding writing like the plague. i've had enough to deal with, that dealing with thoughts that weren't already presenting themselves has seemed like waking a sleeping bear while you're on the dead-end-side of his cave. waking scary, negative things when real life has been admittedly scary and negative, is, well, scary. but writing somehow proves to be an antidote to many of life's problems; sort of like an IV as its pricked into your hand, releasing the flow from the drip bag of just what your body needs.
i'm realizing there is a fine line between laziness and apathy, and being so overwhelmed that you literally can't deal with it. healthiness does not reside with either of those; however, sometimes you just have to do what you can to survive. and that is what i am doing. what i can.
i don't want this to come off super debbie-downer. i don't want you to worry about my soul (saved by His grace), my mental state (i know when i need help), or my ability to discern between enduring the storm and succumbing to the seas. but i don't think we talk about it enough when we are in the midst of the battle, and can't confidently proclaim the hope that you know in the stillest, smallest places in your heart still exists. we hide in depression and anxiety. we go to bed on it at 6 p.m. and pretend like all is well to the outside world. but the Bible tells us to walk in light, that whatever we put in to the light is no longer in darkness. and praise Him, because i used to be super private. i hid the secrets of my heart like a secret stash of dark chocolate. i hid my struggles for fear of rejection. all until one day, that i realized to live as if i truly have been redeemed, i needed to walk redeemed. i needed to walk in my identity as a redeemed daughter of God.
and walking in that identity means i have to be honest. i have to get out all the thoughts that are eating my brain. and it means that i don't walk in anxiety or depression as who i am, not at all. the enemy wants me to believe this is who i am, that it is inescapable. but my Daddy tells me different. the victory on the Cross tells me otherwise. my identity is a redeemed daughter of the King. and even the redeem walk through seasons of battles against their mind and circumstance. but what a powerful army we have walking with us. prayer warriors and angels, guardsmen of God.
step one: unpack. don't keep everything boxed up in the attic. shed some light. dust off the cobwebs. open up each storage tub carefully. beware of spiders, but don't be paralyzed by the fear that they are there. ask for help; you can't carry some of those things down the stairs by yourself. sit down when it becomes too much, but get back to it. don't give up. don't give in. set small goals. like, putting away your tank-tops. you can do this, by the grace of God, you can do this. but you can never do this without Him. lean on Him for your strength. crawl in His lap when the afternoons are hard, instead of just in your bed. unpacking doesn't mean putting away quite yet; sometimes you just need to survey everything all at once.
I'm not sure why I've not been ale to write. Even when I haven't had the time, I've still had moments where I really could've done it. I've opened up this page half a dozen times, but the words never came, or they came too many at once, and it's a million times easier to click that little "x" at the top of the page than it is to sort through any of them.
I've been home from Haiti for over a month now. Back in Nashville for four weeks already. For the better part of that time, I've been dealing with an enslaught of emotion from reentry. Knowing it wasn't as long of a time, nor was it as dramatic of a change this second time around, I really didn't anticipate being so depressed coming back. But I was, perhaps still am, and it's been really hard to shake if we're being honest. Which, by God's good grace, I've been able to be real honest. To just about anyone that asks. #sorryboutit.
This post alone is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions mixed together, and unable to separate, like two colors of playdoh that have been forever swirled into one. You can thank my kinders for that illustration. Perhaps I haven't written, because the thought of sorting through my thoughts and feelings and the sources of them is too overwhelming on its own. Much like just about every part of life I've been dealing with. Much of my wardrobe is till strewn about the house. Tubs still remain in the attic, my dresser remains half-empty, and the clothes I spent 10 weeks in this summer are still piled not-so-neatly in the living room.
Facing reality has been overwhelming. I'm literally only able to do it one baby-step at a time. It seems that I make huge advances, only to be followed by a wall of obstacles the next day that remind me that this is a war, and each day is only a battle. Last weekend, I ventured up to the attic, at the God-sent-request of a friend to host a yard sale. I went through a majority of my storage tubs into the wee-hours of Saturday morning, accompanied by a pot of coffee and Ferngully (both consumed in full). After sorting through tub after tub of my belongings, I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of clothes I had procured over the years. There is no way these all fit in my room, as they are barely contained in their space in the attic! I must've purged half of what I own, knocking my pants and jeans in half. That thought of the initial cost and value of everything I carelessly tossed in the take-it-out-of-my-life pile made me nauseous.
Cleaning up after the garage sale was another huge task to unveil. After getting everything out of my house, I now had a surplus of stuff that didn't sell that I didn't want to return back in, for fear it might never leave again. (reminded of that verse about casting out demons and cleaning house, only for them to return seven-fold, and how it would've just been better to never cast out the one in the first place. Well that's encouraging.). Even though I had sorted through and purged the excess, I couldn't find the strength to actually return the rest of it to my room. To actually un-pack it and deal with it. I'm so cognizant of the physical-spiritual-emotional manifestation of parallels in this situation.
i've been avoiding writing like the plague. i've had enough to deal with, that dealing with thoughts that weren't already presenting themselves has seemed like waking a sleeping bear while you're on the dead-end-side of his cave. waking scary, negative things when real life has been admittedly scary and negative, is, well, scary. but writing somehow proves to be an antidote to many of life's problems; sort of like an IV as its pricked into your hand, releasing the flow from the drip bag of just what your body needs.
i'm realizing there is a fine line between laziness and apathy, and being so overwhelmed that you literally can't deal with it. healthiness does not reside with either of those; however, sometimes you just have to do what you can to survive. and that is what i am doing. what i can.
i don't want this to come off super debbie-downer. i don't want you to worry about my soul (saved by His grace), my mental state (i know when i need help), or my ability to discern between enduring the storm and succumbing to the seas. but i don't think we talk about it enough when we are in the midst of the battle, and can't confidently proclaim the hope that you know in the stillest, smallest places in your heart still exists. we hide in depression and anxiety. we go to bed on it at 6 p.m. and pretend like all is well to the outside world. but the Bible tells us to walk in light, that whatever we put in to the light is no longer in darkness. and praise Him, because i used to be super private. i hid the secrets of my heart like a secret stash of dark chocolate. i hid my struggles for fear of rejection. all until one day, that i realized to live as if i truly have been redeemed, i needed to walk redeemed. i needed to walk in my identity as a redeemed daughter of God.
and walking in that identity means i have to be honest. i have to get out all the thoughts that are eating my brain. and it means that i don't walk in anxiety or depression as who i am, not at all. the enemy wants me to believe this is who i am, that it is inescapable. but my Daddy tells me different. the victory on the Cross tells me otherwise. my identity is a redeemed daughter of the King. and even the redeem walk through seasons of battles against their mind and circumstance. but what a powerful army we have walking with us. prayer warriors and angels, guardsmen of God.
step one: unpack. don't keep everything boxed up in the attic. shed some light. dust off the cobwebs. open up each storage tub carefully. beware of spiders, but don't be paralyzed by the fear that they are there. ask for help; you can't carry some of those things down the stairs by yourself. sit down when it becomes too much, but get back to it. don't give up. don't give in. set small goals. like, putting away your tank-tops. you can do this, by the grace of God, you can do this. but you can never do this without Him. lean on Him for your strength. crawl in His lap when the afternoons are hard, instead of just in your bed. unpacking doesn't mean putting away quite yet; sometimes you just need to survey everything all at once.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
shepherd's pie
the next few posts will be a bit like shepherd's pie. a little bit of this, a little bit of that. all your thanksgiving feast left-overs thrown in a casserole dish and baked again.
unfortunately, these leftovers have been sitting, fermenting rather, in the fridge for, like, a month now. they've lost a lot of original flavor. i promise i'm not a bad cook. it just takes me a while to grow my motivation to try my hand at a new recipe.
i've managed to start and quit this post 4 times now. now that it's 11:35, and my eyelids are about as heavy as my stomach after consuming that pumpkin nutella bread i whipped up instead of writing, i've decided to try to attack it just one more time.
the problem is, there are so many left-overs in the fridge. tupperwares cascade down the shelves when i even begin to crack the door to peer inside. most of it doesn't look the same, and everything has developed a slightly funny smell as you peel back the lid.
but it's time. it's time to clean out the fridge. to organize the mess. to see whats still edible, and to make a new grocery list based on everything thats purged. and once i throw it all out, it's probably best to wipe it down with a thick layer of lysol disinfecting spray.
guess it looks like i have some writing to do tomorrow after church. that, and legitimate unpacking and cleaning, and cleaning out the fridge. the literal one.
unfortunately, these leftovers have been sitting, fermenting rather, in the fridge for, like, a month now. they've lost a lot of original flavor. i promise i'm not a bad cook. it just takes me a while to grow my motivation to try my hand at a new recipe.
i've managed to start and quit this post 4 times now. now that it's 11:35, and my eyelids are about as heavy as my stomach after consuming that pumpkin nutella bread i whipped up instead of writing, i've decided to try to attack it just one more time.
the problem is, there are so many left-overs in the fridge. tupperwares cascade down the shelves when i even begin to crack the door to peer inside. most of it doesn't look the same, and everything has developed a slightly funny smell as you peel back the lid.
but it's time. it's time to clean out the fridge. to organize the mess. to see whats still edible, and to make a new grocery list based on everything thats purged. and once i throw it all out, it's probably best to wipe it down with a thick layer of lysol disinfecting spray.
guess it looks like i have some writing to do tomorrow after church. that, and legitimate unpacking and cleaning, and cleaning out the fridge. the literal one.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
so, this happened:
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| Anyen pa ka detwi kado ak plan Bondye gen pou ou. -Rom 11.29 (for the gifts and the call of God are irrevocable) |
Since returning from Haiti this summer, I've been enduring a pretty hard struggle against the enemy, myself, and anxiety/depression. It has not been easy to defeat the lies that the devil has tried to get me to believe, even when hanging on His truths and breathing by His spirit. There have been moments of breakthrough, but seemingly wrapped in straight-jackets restraining them from the full freedom they were intended on being shrouded in.
In moments when despair seemed darker than the hope is light, this verse resonated in my heart as a reminder that whatever the Lord hath laid out for me was not hanging in the balance of possibility. My destiny in Christ is certain; independent of circumstance or the seemingly loss of joy. The life of light, the gifts of grace and mercy, none of this depended on my ability to *feel* their tangibility. They are my inheritance and no lie is bigger than the truth that they are irrevocable. When I felt tormented by my inability to discern His voice, I rested in the fact that no wrong choice could separate me from His love; could negate the call He has placed on my life, the call to love Him and love like Him.
This verse offers comfort that even in this season of desolation, I am His and He is mine, that my life is still entrusted to His faithful hands, and that they would never pull the rug from beneath me, no matter how far it seemed my heart could fall from Him.
I had wanted to get another tattoo on my foot, and I couldn't think of anything quite as meaningful as this verse, especially in Creole. I'm not as fond of the creole translation, as irrevocable doesn't exactly translate, but I know how intricately the Lord has woven Haiti into my heart, and using this translation was just a not-so-subtle reminder of how Haiti is part of those gifts and call that will also remain unchanged.
As I left the tattoo parlor Tuesday evening I felt a sense of completion, as if this literally and permanently sealed this season as it became branded to me for life. Nothing, no not even this battle as hard as it may seem, nothing can destroy what God has for me. I will stand, literally, on that truth for life.
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