radiate love

new.

2012-01-30T22:15:00.001-05:00

mostly writing here now:
http://radiatel0ve.tumblr.com/

and by mostly, i mean those times when i randomly feel like putting thoughts out there for all to see.
this is sporadic at best.

oops.

2011-09-06T19:43:00.002-05:00

obviously, i'm doing an excellent job at blogging every day. oops. oh well.

i've been thinking on the topic of sabbath lately.

resting.
solitude.
silence.
prayer.
confession.
humility.

taking time to remember that at the end of the day, even if i produce absolutely nothing, i am loved.

what a difficult thing to swallow.

i am not very good at resting.
i fight against silence.
just this morning, driving to work, i had to make a great effort to turn off the radio and drive in silence.
and then, in that silence, my mind raced. and raced. and raced.

there's a whisper going on in my heart, in my spirit, telling me to write more. to slow down and write. writing is a frightening thing for me, a people pleaser, an enneagram "two", a recovering codependent. even while writing in this blog, i find myself hitting the delete button more often than i'd like.

so maybe there is a tie between these two things in my life.
a connection between this need for rest, and this need to write.
that for me, journaling is a way to help my mind from racing out of control while still being at peace.

we'll see where all of this takes me.
but i'm feeling a sense of calm in my spirit that i have missed.
a feeling that i haven't felt in a long, long time.

here's to rest.

writing.

2011-08-22T08:40:00.002-05:00

I'm in the middle of Shauna Niequist's "Bittersweet" and couldn't be loving it more. I've found myself on the verge of tears multiple times, finding her stories resonating deeply within me.

Also, much like the feeling I get while reading Anne Lamott's books, I'm finding myself hungry to write again. Obviously from the date on the latest post on this blog, I've taken a leave of absence. That needs to change.

Of all people, my mom is the one who always tells me I need to write. She has told me that from a very young age. Maybe I should start listening to her. I've found that to be the case in many aspects of parental advice, so maybe this is one of those times as well.

So here we go. I'm going to plan to write on this blog every day for a week. And we'll see where it takes me.

adulthood.

2011-02-28T13:11:00.004-05:00

I've officially hit that point in my job where it is no longer "fun." To be fair, there are definitely times of fun. Loads of times. But there is also a strong sense of "ugh" when my alarm goes off in the morning.

At first, this freaked me out. I was petrified. How could this, my "dream job", have become that dreaded thing known as work?! Was God calling me to go somewhere else? Am I not in the right place? Should I start looking elsewhere for a job?

Then, through many mature conversations, I realized that I have just entered what is known as adulthood.

Ew.

I hit the big 2-4 last Thursday and for the first time had the panicky feeling at the idea of growing older. I don't want to grow up. I don't want to have an adult job. I want to be able to have off on my birthday and buy ridiculous things that I don't need just because I can.

The good news is that everybody has this moment in some way, shape, or form. Everybody has a point where their job IS a job and not buckets of fun all day, every day. Everybody dreads responsibility and leaving childhood. This is normal.

And since coming to that realization, I have found my job to be fun again. I just needed a perspective check, to be reminded that it will all be OK and that God has me here for a purpose. Scattered throughout the annoying parts of this job - random administrative tasks that are tedious, certain conversations with parents, watching students choose one thing on a Wednesday night and something totally different the next day in school, etc. - there are many blessings. Many satisfying moments. And it is those painful times that make the joyful times even better.

For the record...

... I still love my job.

hurting.

2010-12-29T00:26:00.003-05:00

Sometimes it feels like there is a limit on how much joy a person is allowed to have.

That everything can be going so well, but there is a limit to that, and at some point or another it will come crashing down around them in the shortest moment. Followed by the feeling of "no.. no, no, no... no."

My heart is heavy tonight and the only rest I can find is in the love of my God, who takes me in his arms even when I feel too weak to drag myself there. I want to kick and punch and hit like a child throwing a tantrum, but I am already out of energy to do even that. So instead, I'll collapse like a kid who already has thrown one, who is beyond crying.

I think going to sleep is the best option now.

vinyl.

2010-12-23T10:53:00.005-05:00

For Christmas this year, Joe got me a gorgeous, sleek, beautiful Crosley record player. He surprised me with it today in the best way possible: I walked up the stairs into our apartment after church to hear "Viva la Vida" playing on the turntable.

I don't know how it's possible, but that song sounds even better on vinyl. Pure gold.

I'm also not sure I realized how much I wanted this gift until I got it. I've always had a respect and appreciation for vinyl, a trait I attribute to my record-lovin' parents, and began collecting them in high school. I got most of them from the local Goodwill and hole-in-the-wall record store at Zerns Farmer's Market. My small collection included the works of Billie Holiday, Cat Stevens, Pat Benatar, the Glen Miller band, and Engelbert Humperdinck.

It turns out that Joe had also coordinated with my parents and ended up borrowing some of their records as well. All afternoon we've been singing and dancing to the tunes of the Temptations, Neil Young, the Beatles, and the Doors. We got dressed in our finest dancing clothes- Joe chose an unbuttoned white shirt to channel John Travolta in Grease- and made fools of ourselves as the snow started falling outside. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. My husband is a hilarious dancing machine.

There's just something about having to go through the whole process of pulling the record out of its sleeve, setting it gently on the turntable, placing the needle carefully on the grooves, watching it spin around and around. Music has been consuming our tiny apartment. Absolutely filling it. I'm looking forward to dance parties to come.

I'm warm and content right now as the snow continues to fall outside. I'm grateful for a God incarnate, a gracious Father who chose to be with us. I'm thankful for a family that I love spending time with, joking and laughing. And I'm excited for a first anniversary with an incredible husband, my best friend and the greatest dancing partner a gal could ask for.

remember.

2010-10-06T01:48:00.003-05:00

Another night of trying to stay awake via various kinds of distraction.

Tonight, that came in the form of going through an old online journal (that was hilarious and embarrassing to read). There are few things in life that are as refreshing as reading through an old journal. Maybe because it's nice to see how far you've come. That the things you didn't know much about then, you know much more about now. It's fun to reminisce and as much shame as some of those entries bring me, it was good medicine.

I coped some of the things I found the funniest through the entries. Here's just a sampling of high school Steph thoughts:

I was really feeling tonight like I was acquiring a passion for teenagers. Haha that sounds funny if you read it, but seriously.. the teen ministry is such a powerful thing. I'm only 18 and I know how important these years are in shaping who a person is. And I've been so blessed by that ministry, the only thing I feel like I can do is give back to it. I don't know, it was just this tiny flame in my heart that I feel like God is going to keep fanning and keep growing.

That's pretty cool to look back on. Here I am, 5 years later, working in youth ministry. And another youth ministry-related entry a year or so later:

I don't even know where to start. HCBC rocked my flipping socks, if I could sit there and be a mentor to girls for the rest of my life I am so in. I loved every part of being a leader, even the not-so-fun stuff like ZERO sleep, waking up at 5:30am so the girls could see the sunrise, etc. It all was incredible, awesome, Spirit-filled, humbling, amazing. I wish I was there right now.

Dang.
That's cool.

ESFJ - "Seller". Most sociable of all types. Nurturer of harmony. Outstanding host or hostesses. 13% of the total population.

That's crazy, because having taken the Myers-Briggs more recently I've come out as an ENFJ. So my perception has shifted from being really concrete-based to being a lot more abstract. Interesting.

Uh I think I have ADD.

Umm, hello. Diagnosis of the century.

That was loads of fun, the rides up and back were pretty fantastic as well. I found gas for $1.89 at this amish gas station!!!

Does ANYBODY remember gas being $1.89?! Man, did this make me feel old.

As funny as a lot of the entries were, it was seriously good to go back and see what God has done in me over the past few years. He's always calling His people to remember, and killing time tonight by sifting through old journal entries was a way to do that.

Now just four more hours left of my shift, trying to stay awake. Bring on the caffeine.

hospitality.

2010-10-05T03:30:00.003-05:00

It is 4:30am.

I'm at my second part-time job right now, which oddly enough includes working 8-hour shifts overnight with my brother Eric. Other than the fact that I would love to curl up under my cubicle right now with a warm blanket, it's not too bad.

Working the "graveyard shift" is a very interesting experience. You're driving home while everyone else is just starting to get up and out for their jobs. You crawl into bed when everyone else is crawling out. You see the sunrise as your cue to get some rest, you view breakfast as dinner, and your sleep (if/when it actually happens) feels like more of a long nap than a full night's rest.

And while I would love to be back on a normal sleep schedule, I'm grateful for the opportunities this job has opened up. One of which is the new apartment Joe and I have moved in to.

It's modern while still being comfortable and home-y. It's big enough for the two of us, and small enough that I don't feel like I'm cleaning all the time. It feels like we've been there forever, yet still has the "new carpet smell" when I walk in the door.

It's the first chance we've had to really make a place our own. When we were first married, we rented a beautiful house from friends in Mount Vernon. It was way too big for just the two of us, and I felt spoiled every day I was there. One of those homes that just has character, you know? But because we were renting for a short time, and they were in the process of trying to sell, I didn't work too hard at really decorating it.

Then, of course, we made the dreaded move into the basement of my parent's house when we first moved out to PA. It wasn't necessarily a forced thing; we could've moved right into an apartment out here, but we wanted to get settled and have time to shop around and make sure Joe got a job before we committed to a year-long lease. So, obviously, I didn't do much to our space at my parent's. I did burst into tears on one occasion, out of nowhere, and that was when we started looking for our place.

And now we have it. A second floor, two-bedroom apartment. Our place. My chance to really flex my interior designing muscles and make it look gooood. Now, I'm not sure how good it looks- I like it, and that's what matters- but it was a fun process. Figuring out color palettes and scoring great buys at the thrift store. Moving furniture only to move it back a day later. Hanging paintings and buying curtains. The works.

Something Joe and I have always agreed upon and believed firmly in is the concept of hospitality. Wherever we end up, we always want our home to be a place that people feel like they can come and just be. A relaxed atmosphere where others don't feel the need to put on a show, but understand that they are loved and welcomed for who they are in that moment and not who they've been or who they'll become.

Maybe that seems a bit overly dramatic, or extreme. But it's what we feel has been put on our hearts to make happen.
We've only had a few people over so far... my brother not included, who seems to have found his own home-away-from-home in playing Call of Duty with Joe in our living room.

And while it's been a hard transition to move here from our college town where we had such a solid community of friends, we're not giving up on the idea of God using our space for good. Because in reality, it's not our space. And I don't want to waste time being tight-fisted and fearful, but instead to relax and let our door be open.

Someday, when we are in the next stage of kids & family, we will open our home up to kids who may not have otherwise had one. I may not know what I want to do for a job in ten years, but without a doubt I know that I want to be a mom to a house full of kids, both biological and adopted. There is not a single thought that brings me more peace and joy than that one.

I'll end with this: "Hospitality" can mean generously providing care and kindness to whoever is in need.
There are so many people in need around me on any given day. I would be wasting my life if I didn't respond to them in any possible way.

Here's to life together.
SMF

learning.

2010-02-07T23:21:00.003-05:00

Wow. A lot has changed since I wrote here the last time... and at the same time, not much has changed at all.

On January 2, 2010, at four in the afternoon, I walked down the aisle towards Joseph Charles Farmer. About twenty minutes later, we were married. So, we've been married for about a month, and there's so much I could say about it that I don't know where to start. It's been fun, crazy, difficult, exciting, scary, confusing, eye-opening, comforting, challenging, frustrating, amusing, and... more than anything... a learning experience.

I knew before we got married that I was a selfish person. You don't need a ring on your finger to tell you that much. But living with this other person, who I love more than I can put words to, has not been something that has come easily. Dying to myself has taken on new meaning now that I wake up to another person beside me.

There are things that you just don't really know about a person until you live with them. For example...

He doesn't clean up right away after he makes something in the kitchen. He's always warm whenever I'm cold. He likes strawberry jelly instead of grape, eating chips dipped in cream cheese, and thinks that I make mac&cheese the wrong way. And he can be incredibly hyper in the morning, especially on the mornings when I'm tired and grumpy.

But there's more.

He makes me feel beautiful every single day, and doesn't let a moment pass before he reminds me of it. He cooks and cleans with me, and sometimes tells me to go read or take a bath while HE cooks or cleans for me. He reads to me. He plays guitar and sings to me. He makes me laugh a hundred times a day, even when he's not trying to. He stays up and talks about family and friends and life with me, even when I know he's tired. He STILL opens the car door for me, and gets mad when I try to open it myself.

We play Call of Duty together. We make dinner together. We eat lunch together, like an old retired couple, and laugh with one another over pickles and turkey sandwiches. We talk about everything and anything together. We buy groceries together. We cry together. We watch movies and LOST together. We have two Mormon missionaries over for dinner together. We wonder about the future together.

So, what I've learned this month is that I'm not always right, and that sometimes his needs come before mine. I've learned a lot about God, how He views me, and what it means for two people to live and grow in love together.

There's a lot that I'm sure I still need to learn, and a lot more dying-to-self to be had. But I'm very much looking forward to it.

I get to fall asleep and wake up next to this loving, intelligent, hilarious, incredible man every day for the rest of our lives. I get to share it all with him. He sees the good and the bad, and the worst... and loves me all the same.

I know, I know... a month of marriage seems like very little in the big scheme of things. I know that a year from now, or two, or fifty, I'll look back and laugh at how much I'd thought I'd learned. But I'm enjoying this ride.

I'm more grateful than I've ever been.
I don't want to take any moment for granted.

escape.

2009-10-21T08:59:00.002-05:00

I realized this morning as I was flipping through some magazine... Elle, I think it was.. how much I enjoy escaping my life through the lives of other people.

I spend a lot of time trying to get away from my million-miles-an-hour-mind. If I'm on medicine for ADD, it just makes ME go 100mph. If I'm not on medicine, my mind goes 100mph. Neither feels very healthy, to be honest.

So instead of enjoying my life, my moments, my time, I spend it wishing I was someone or something or somewhere else. I read a magazine filled with "flawless" women- airbrushed, yes- and get lost in the beauty of it. It doesn't matter that I KNOW how fake it all is, that I KNOW how this magazine is just trying to sell me something, that I KNOW it's probably not "good for me," whatever that means. All of those things take a backseat to the joy that comes with getting lost for a few minutes.

Or, another example, movies. If I'm in a mood to "get away," I pop in a movie. Most likely a "chick flick" where some girl is swept off her feet by some guy in some impossible storybook plot. Right now, it's "Pride and Prejudice"... oh, to be Elizabeth Bennet.

Is it all bad, trying to escape? Or is there something to be said for the art and the beauty that we can create, even if it is fictional?

Probably the more important question(s)- what am I trying to escape from? Why? If I continue to find release through living out another person's story, will I ever find peace and happiness in mine?

There has to be a balance here somewhere.
I'm just tired of looking for it.

So, instead I'll be honest and realistic and say that I'm angry at God right now, that looking like a girl in one of the magazines SEEMS like it would solve a few issues on my mind, and that the romance and beauty in Pride and Prejudice is a sweet escape from whatever else my mind is running around at the moment.

I miss my Grandmom Heayn. Going to visit their house was like living in one of my escape-fantasies. I could become Elizabeth Bennet, running around on the hills on their property, playing in the trees and making things and always feeling beautiful and loved for being WHO I AM and nothing else. God, I miss that feeling.

I want to be to others what she was to me.

why i love her.

2009-10-15T09:45:00.001-05:00

"Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it."

-anne lamott

decluttering.

2009-09-22T10:14:00.002-05:00

The following words have been on my mind lately:
-rhythm
-rest
-anxiety
-stress
-worry
-fear
-shalom
-peace
-dayenu
-enough
-simplify

You know that feeling you get when you de-clutter something? When you get rid of everything taking up space that doesn't NEED to be there and are left with minimalism, just the simplest necessities?
I feel like my heart, mind, soul, body are all in need of some spring cleaning. Some intense de-cluttering.

I want to be at the point where I can feel like a huge, beautiful white wall with just this single word written on it in bright bold letters:
SHALOM.

beloved.

2009-09-02T08:47:00.003-05:00

I have to share what I read this morning by Henri Nouwen in his book, "Life of the Beloved." It was beautiful and life-giving and if nothing else, I need to read it again.

"Aren't you, like me, hoping that some person, thing, or event will come along to give you that final feeling of inner well-being you desire? Don't you often hope: 'May this book, idea, course, trip, job, country, or relationship fulfill my deepest desire.' But as long as you are waiting for that mysterious moment you will go on running helter-skelter, always anxious and restless, always lustful and angry, never fully satisfied. You know that this is the compulsiveness that keeps us going and busy, but at the same time makes us wonder whether we are getting anywhere in the long run. This is the way to spiritual exhaustion and burn-out. This is the way to spiritual death.

Well, you and I don't have to kill ourselves. We are the Beloved. We are intimately loved long before our parents, teachers, spouses, children, and friends loved or wounded us. That's the truth of our lives. That's the truth I want you to claim for yourself. That's the truth spoken by the voice that says, 'You are my Beloved.'

Listening to that voice with great inner attentiveness, I hear at my center words that say: 'I have called you by name, from the very beginning. You are mine and I am yours. You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests. I have molded you in the depths of the earth and knitted you together in your mother's womb. I have carved you in the palms of my hands and hidden you in the shadow of my embrace. I look at you with infinite tenderness and care for you with a care more intimate that that of a mother for her child. I have counted every hair on your head and guided you at every step. Wherever you go, I go with you, and wherever you rest, I keep watch. I will give you food that will satisfy all your hunger and drink that will quench all your thirst. I will not hide my face from you. You know me as your own as I know you as my own. You belong to me. I am your father, your mother, your brother, your sister, your lover, and your spouse... yes, even your child... wherever you are I will be. Nothing will ever separate us. We are one.'"

I want to drink those words in over and over and over and over and over and over....

orphans.

2009-07-24T07:09:00.002-05:00

I don't think Jesus was kidding around or alluding to anything when He talked about taking care of the orphaned and the widowed.

There is such an ache in me right now that has me tearing up while I sit here, waiting for the girls that I'm nannying for this summer to wake up. In this beautiful home with food and beds and clothes and Love. There is pain here, too. That's not something that is any less present in the life of a family than it is in the life of an orphan, but there is the opportunity for Love to hold that pain.

I can try all I want to shake away the deep, strong pressing on my heart when it comes to babies without moms to hold them.

I can try all I want to pretend that they will be fine, that someone ELSE will take care of them, that no God would allow a child to die having never felt Love.

But I know better.

I know that God gives us choices, and SO MANY choose to sit comfortably with that thought: SOMEONE ELSE WILL TAKE CARE OF IT.

...If we all keep asking that question, who will be left? Who will ever be that "someone else"???

I'm not sure at all what my future holds. I know that I am beyond blessed to be marrying the man I never thought I deserved this January. I know that I have felt Love and Love abundant. I know that I graduate in December and will be in the "real world," having to make choices about what the next step is.

And maybe instead of trying to avoid pain (yeah, right)... I will trust the Love my Abba has shown me and trust that He can use me even with my shortcomings and failures.

I want to go to Africa and work in orphanages, especially those who have been orphaned due to the AIDS epidemic.

Maybe that's me jumping on a bandwagon, trying to be Bono or Madonna or Angelina Jolie. Ha. What a joke.

I don't think it's that. I think it's God. I think it's how God has made me, and I think in making me He said "I will give this girl the opportunity to have a compassionate heart for my orphans. I will give her a heart that she can choose to ignore or accept, and it will be filled with pain and tears and hardship, but it will also be filled with Love."

So I don't know what it's going to look like. I don't know if it will simply be me adopting when the time is right or if I will have the opportunity to go to Africa and hold those babies so tightly, and help them to laugh and smile and feel His heart. We'll just have to wait and see on that.

But I want to make the choice to not ignore His words about His children. I want to show just as much Love to babies in Africa that I do to the girls this summer, the youth at New Hanover, the people I pass on the street. I want to show that Love in how I spend money, which priorities I choose, how I speak.

Because God is Love and Love is real.

better.

2009-07-17T15:11:00.002-05:00

Today has been better.
I don't know why, but it has been.

That being said, these lyrics from As Cities Burn are haunting, beautiful, sad, and honest.

"Daughter" by As Cities Burn

It's a shame what I thought of her
when I saw her that way.
It didn't change what You thought of her.
She's been Your daughter since she was made.

Since I was made, I've been leaving.
I'd say I'd change, but I wouldn't believe it.
It's 'cause my legs, they don't forget.
When they find a way out, they'll always take it.

Oooh, we don't
No, we don't
We don't know how we got here,
The way is overgrown.
Oooh we don't
No, we don't
we don't know how we became this.

She has a name but I don't have to know
'cause all I'm after is all she has to show.
We cannot save, we can't even slow
our loss of innocence every new child has to grow.

Oooh we don't
No, we don't
we don't know how we got here,
the way is overgrown.
Oooh we don't
No, we don't
we don't know how we became this.

angry.

2009-07-16T12:23:00.003-05:00

Last night, I got really angry at God. I'm still angry. I've been angry for awhile now, if I'm honest. But last night it hit me all at once and I'm still trying to figure it out.

I'm angry because I hate all of the hurt happening in the world... the hurt I see in my day to day interactions and the hurt in every corner of the world, the hurt that I myself may be inflicting on brothers and sisters that I've never met.

I'm angry because I feel so alone and misunderstood, because He allows suffering, because of my constant selfishness, because I never feel good enough.

I'm angry at not having many answers, at distance, at people I love growing older, at having to watch them grow older, and at God for calling Himself Love and then not making that obvious in daily life.

I think I'm more tired than I am angry.
Maybe I'm tired of being angry?

I guess we'll see where all of this goes.

way.

2009-06-30T13:25:00.003-05:00

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,'
'I don't know where. . .'
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.

-Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

identity.

2009-06-25T08:25:00.003-05:00

Am I nothing more than this imperfect body?

photography.

2009-06-16T12:32:00.003-05:00

For a while now, I've been interested in photography.
I've never taken a class, and the digital camera I own is... better than nothing (that's my attempt at being thankful).

What is it about pictures that are so captivating?
How can a camera capture a moment?
What makes a good photograph?

I have a lot of things financially that I need to be saving for (like, I don't know, a place for Joe and I to live... a honeymoon...). So, in the mean time I'm lusting after a Nikon SLR.

And until then, I will live vicariously through other people's photography.

insomniac.

2009-06-07T02:03:00.003-05:00

I think that insomnia strikes at opportune times; for example, while I do have to wake up and get ready to head over to NHUMC in about 5 hours, I also got to spend some "quality time" with Eric (which was sitting in front of the TV, of course, but sometimes just sitting near someone you love is good) and have had some interesting streams of thought float in and out of my brain.

It's almost like I'm afraid to go to sleep because it'll "ruin it." Like not being able to sleep is sometimes a precious gift to be cherished- regardless of what it might feel like trying to wake up tomorrow.

How many things in life do I avoid because they're uncomfortable?
Loving people is not a comfortable act.

It's made me extremely uncomfortable lately, mostly because of a LOT of built-up nasty pride that has been fumbling around inside of me. Pride makes it difficult to apologize, and when something is difficult, it's easy to avoid.

I avoid loving people.

I'm also afraid that I won't "succeed" in life; that I will make (this choice) or (that choice) and (those choices) won't be the "right ones." Which, of course, is defined differently by eight different people.

According to this chick, it would be:

"To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded."
-Bessie Stanley

I want lives to breathe easier around me.
But first I should probably let myself breathe a bit easier, huh?

Confronting past hurts and pains is uncomfortable, and an even more uncomfortable thing is trying to find the balance between confronting past hurts and rolling around in the muck of past hurts. I am slowly learning to acknowledge pain that has been caused by some event or another, and MOVE the heck ON with my life. Slowly, turtle's-pace learning.

I'm also impatient.

And I don't have to impress you. Or you. Or you. I can sit here and clack away on my computer at 3:13am and not have cohesive thoughts and CAN BE (if I choose to be) OKAY WITH THAT.

Tonight, I am okay with that.
I'm breathing a little bit easier.
Goodnight.

television.

2009-06-03T22:08:00.003-05:00

I think my parents have become slaves to television.

I've been trying to keep myself busy lately with my online course, helping out with the youth at church, seeing friends, etc. Part of this is because it is better for me to be busy (a statement I may hash out in a later post but for now, just take it for what it's worth) and part of it is because I hate being home.

I love my parents.
I hate that any "quality time" with them is in front of a box that has cable.
I hate mindless TV and that's their way to "unwind."

May I never go to work, come home, watch TV, and go to sleep, only to repeat the process all over again.
And may I have the courage and the love to speak up about it to my parents.

That's all for now.

life.

2009-05-11T17:36:00.002-05:00

I'm not sure of many things right now. I hate even writing this junk out because I don't want it to be chalked up to "end-of-the-year, close-to-graduation thoughts," aka the same cheesiness that comes with milestones in life and can be written out nicely in a card that costs too much, especially if it plays a song when you open it.

But, all people-pleasing aside (or as aside as I can get it for the moment, ok?), here are the things I am unsure of:
I don't know what job I will have this summer, or if I will have a job.
I don't know if Joe and I will be financially stable when we start our life together next January.
I don't know whether I should continue studying theology or if I should take a risk and pursue nursing.
I don't know if I am going to wake up to my alarm tomorrow morning,
I don't know if I will go to bed early enough for me to wake up to my alarm tomorrow morning.
I don't know whether or not I love people like I should love them.
I don't know if I will ever be able to get to go to Africa, and that makes my heart heavy.
I don't know if I'm going to be a good mom someday. I mean a GOOD mom, whatever that looks like.
I don't know if there are ever enough tears to fully express the pain of death.
I don't know why I send someone sympathy cards from Kroger that are $2.49 and could never say what I'm trying to say (which is basically "I have nothing to say that could take away this pain, I barely know you, but I'm weeping at your loss and for your family and don't know if it means anything for me to say that or if I should just stay back and pray).
I don't know if prayer works, or if it's supposed to "work" at all; when did it become a "do this or else" relationship?
I don't know if God is as loving and just as I want Him to be.
I don't know a lot at all; more than I feel like listing right now in the library when I should be doing work for theology.

But I am sure of a few, simple things.

I am sure that in experiencing death (even from afar), I recognize truer life.
I am sure that heightened awareness of finitude and mortality result in heightened awareness of trees, grass, and the sky.
I am sure that the love of a family is irreplaceable.
I am sure that community is essential.
I am sure that I am in debt.
I am sure that money means less to me when mortality is made real to me.
I am sure that professors don't know everything, but they know something.
I am sure that some things take time (whatever that means).
I am sure that sleep is a gift.
I am sure that feeling beautiful is okay, even if I am not good at it yet.
I am sure that knowing that feeling beautiful is okay is the first step.
I am sure that God speaks. I may not hear/see/feel/know it, but I am sure that He does, and I am sure that his Words make sense eventually.
I am sure that the "opposite of God" speaks as well, call him Satan or the Enemy or whatever, and I'm sure that his voice is easier to follow each time its presented, regardless of it being right or wrong.
I am sure that I take death for granted.
I am sure that I take life for granted.

"If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change." -Buddha

separation.

2009-04-25T13:09:00.002-05:00

Only when I begin to sort through all of the things that are getting "in between" Abba and I do I realize how hardened my heart has become. Not necessarily towards God (although that is the case), but towards the lives around me.

I lack compassion.

When I put on my make-up in the morning, try to pick out the best outfit, take too long to do my hair, I am separating myself from compassion... not because of these specific acts necessarily, but because the focus is on ME. And for what? For what purpose is any of this fulfilling?

I miss compassion.

I want to have stories to share with others, not for the sake of a gold star on my report card, but for the sake of awakening their hearts as well. I want to be able to talk about friends who are not in the same socio-economic situation as we are, but who are breathing more life in a day than I have in a year.

We need compassion.

I no longer want to be separated from those around me, but to get my hands dirty with the messiness of life. I want to stop trying to fill this ache in me with sex, make-up, or laughter but with Love. With the reality of Him. I'm tired of a life lived in the past, where everything is "because of what happened to me when I was ___ years old," and full of emptiness.

I want to drink water instead of soda. That may seem like a random addition here, but that statement is filled with a lot more than what it seems.

Let's give this a try.

death.

2009-04-01T14:58:00.002-05:00

I went to bed last night at 7:30pm and woke up this morning around 8:45am.
I needed it.
But then I woke up in a semi-bad mood and couldn't figure out why.
It actually scared me a bit. I've been off Zoloft (depression medicine) for a few weeks now and was worried that it was "coming back," whatever that means.

I walked to Chapel and realized that I felt... really, really not pretty. That sounds deeply shallow (ha), but I really just felt ugly in a lot of ways.
I've been fighting hard lately to give up this need I always have for CONTROLLING every situation. When things are out of my control, I tend to over-control in other areas.. it's just a dysfunctional pattern in my life that I'm working on.

When you see something ugly in yourself, it tends to put a damper on your self-image.

So I'd spent time this morning putting on make-up, picking an outfit, doing my hair, etc., only to go to Chapel feeling just as plain, boring, and ugly as I had before I'd done all those things.

Then Scott began speaking on the topics of death, grief, etc. I'm usually half-interested while in Chapel, for varying reasons, but today caught my attention. I walked into the room feeling that something wasn't "right" within me, and maybe I was searching for something in the words that were being spoken.

I thought a lot about my Grandmom in Chapel this morning.

Now, I know Scott was talking about death and grieving, and so thinking about my grandmom doesn't seem like something that would be terribly odd. But my Grandmom died when I was a senior in high school... that's about four years ago. I know that there is no "timeline" to grief, but I usually tend to force thoughts about her away (which is a sad thing in itself, but true).
I don't like thinking about her not being here because, well, I wish she WAS here. I don't like talking about her around my family because it's a mood killer and there is nothing harder in the world than watching my dad cry. I don't like knowing that she won't be there on my wedding day... God, that's the hardest thought of all of them. She wanted to be there so badly, she was saying it over and over and over again to us days before she died. One of the things she wanted to get across to me and my brother and sister was how much she wanted to be at our weddings. What a shitty thing, that she won't be there. That she isn't here NOW.
She taught me how to have an imagination. Driving back to school after break, Joe and I listened to N.T. Wright's "A Christian Imagination" lecture, and it hit me how much my imagination was nourished by my Grandmom. We were over their house a lot growing up, and I have countless memories of her giving us things to do that developed my imagination in ways that I still don't understand. Playing make believe and climbing trees and learning how to garden and helping out in their stained glass store and being read to and doing crafts and painting and being free to be OURSELVES in a world that was telling me to be SOMEONE ELSE.
I wouldn't see God the way I do today if it weren't for my Grandmom.
God, I miss her so much.

I thought a lot about Joe's dad in Chapel this morning.

I won't go into details about the story behind Joe's dad because, frankly, it's his story to share. But I will say that being at Joe's house over Spring Break opened my eyes up a lot to the beauty that exists in his family. There is such as sense of mutual support and just a general "I'm here for you" vibe in his family, extended and immediate. Along with that, though, there is a cloud that hangs overhead. It's a feeling that it's NOT all okay and that there is pain and sadness that goes unspoken. I'm fighting back tears even as I type this, because it is an extremely painful thing to watch people you love deeply be hurting deeply in a way that you can't fix. I can't fix it... there's that control thing, again.

I thought a lot about friends in Chapel this morning.

They will remain nameless, but there was a deep ache in my heart for them and their well-being. I've seen a lot of pain in a lot of their eyes, that is there for so many different reasons. Deaths they've faced, death they're facing on a daily basis in themselves, etc. The feeling of "will this ever end?" or "what did I do to deserve this?"
It's easy for me to turn inward and forget those around me and the pain they're facing; it's easy to shut out the fact that there is sadness and hurt that is happening on a daily basis. But I didn't shut that out today, and I just let myself cry.

The beautiful thing is just that: I didn't shut that out today, and I just let myself cry.
My make-up was ruined.
My eyes ended up being puffy and swollen.
Snot was running and that is not a very "pretty" thing.

But I left Chapel feeling a sense of beauty and peace that I've missed for awhile. Because there is a Father, an Abba that I am choosing to believe in, that is carrying me when I feel the ugliest and when I feel the most pain and when I feel like I can't take another step.
There is MY Abba, who carried me through my Grandmom's funeral, who will be beside me on my wedding day, who carries Joe and his mom and sister on a daily basis, who weeps with my friends, MY ABBA WHO IS HERE and WILL BE THERE.

TK pointed out not too long ago that death actually enhances life; it reminds us that we are not gods.

This morning, death actually poured into me a lot of life.

Peace.

quote.

2009-03-12T16:27:00.003-05:00

"You can get a large audience together for a strip-tease act- that is, to watch a girl undress on the stage. Now suppose you came to a country where you could fill a theatre by simply bringing a covered plate on the stage and then slowly lifting the cover so as to let every one see, just before the lights went out, that it contained a mutton chop or a bit of bacon, would you not think that in that country something had gone wrong with the appetite for food? And would not anyone who had grown up in a different world think there was something equally queer about the state of the sex instinct among us?" -C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Mere Christianity was published in 1952. At that time, people were slowly becoming more liberalized to the idea of sexuality (partially due to soldiers away at war "exploring their options"), but that liberation is hardly comparable to the "state of the sex instinct among us" today.

I would argue that we are presently in a world where something has gone terribly wrong with the appetite for sex, not that the appetite itself is wrong but how overshadowing it has become to what I would call more crucial appetites. We are gluttons of sexuality and are anorexics in many other areas.

What went wrong? What has brought us to this point? What would a healthy appetite look like?
Why is this topic so taboo when it is so prevalent in actions?

What a confusing world.

porn.

2009-03-09T22:35:00.001-05:00

Pornography breaks my heart.

In so many ways, for so many reasons.

sickness.

2009-03-05T11:55:00.002-05:00

Around 11am this Tuesday I got out of bed and went out to our kitchen area to pour myself some juice and water, only to find myself on the ground moments later with my roommate Chelsea asking me why I fell (which still remains a hilarious question to me). After hours in the ER, some not-so-nice experiences with needles in my arms and a very interesting nurse, it was brought to my attention that I have a bad case of the flu and passed out due to dehydration.

Since then, I've been sleeping, watching many episodes of The Office, sleeping more, being frustrated, and sleeping.

The frustration comes in because I am very much a person who likes to "get things done," and when I feel rendered "useless" I tend to get angry.

It's got me thinking why being sick leaves me feeling so "useless."
Why is it so hard for me to rely on others to help me out?
Why do I hate not "accomplishing" things?
Why am I not more grateful for professors who are more concerned with my physical well-being than they are my test scores?
Why is RESTING such a hard thing to do?

I've been wondering a lot lately about the meaning of Sabbath and what its intention was originally. We talk about God taking a day of rest, but we've also been discussing creation in my Theology II class and what if it isn't all about a literal days theology? Would that mean that God wants us to take a lot more "time off" than just 24 hours? What does it mean to really rest, anyway? Catch the flu and lay in bed because there literally are not many more possibilities at that point?

If anyone can shed some light on the concept of the Sabbath for me, I'd greatly appreciate it; because I know my Sundays (or Mondays-Saturdays, for that matters) aren't normally spent resting.

Shalom.

complexity.

2009-02-16T20:50:00.003-05:00

Since my last post, a lot of things in my life have changed. A LOT of things.
I'm not going to list them all here, but I guess the main point is that I'm feeling joy again. And peace, and redemption, and love. In new ways, in odd ways, in so many unique ways that sometimes I don't recognize it.

If there's one overall thought I would want to talk about in this post, it's about the complexity of love. I've gone through 21 years of life (almost 22 years!) with this idea that I KNOW how complex love is.
I mean, I'd given out my heart multiple times as a teenage; I felt what it was to "love" someone else. Right?
I lost my grandmother my senior year; I've felt the fullness of pain in the sting of losing love. Right?
My relationship with my parents has grown and through that I've felt unconditional love in all it has to offer. Right?
I had a cat that I loved. Of course I understood love and all that came with it. Right?

Now I would venture to say that I know so little about the complexity of love that it scares me and intrigues me. Sure, all of these life events have had a lasting impact on me and my little idea about what love is, but I am finally understanding that I know SO LITTLE about love. So very little that every single day holds so many lessons in love.

The pain that comes with this is that in learning how little I know about love, I am learning how often I hurt those around me as well as God. I'm learning how I can act in ways that are opposed to Love on such a constant basis that they become "habits"- but I also am learning that they are not just my personality. They can be changed and renewed and I can grow and walk in Love.

Love is a complex thing.

I've been sitting in classes getting pommeled left and right by new ideas on Love.
I'm reading for those classes books that before would have been "boring" and learning about Love.
I'm listening to mentors and the older and wiser learning about Love.
I've been waking up to Love, falling asleep to Love.

I capitalize the word Love because I know behind it all is God. A month ago I would've laughed at that sentence skeptically and angrily; today I write it in the fullest confidence.

Love is a complex thing because God is a complex Being, and out of Him comes this Love.

In eleven months I will be married. I will be entering into a covenant with him like God has entered into a covenant with His people. In a book I'm reading for my Doctrine of Holiness class, the author writes:

"God needed a covenant with His people, certain ground rules, so that the needs of each are met and so that the rights of each are guaranteed. At the same time, it is important that both parties will understand very clearly just what it is that the other wants and needs."

I want to learn more about what God wants and needs. I want to learn what Joe wants and needs. I want to learn what it is that I want and need.

Love is a complex thing, but I am enjoying learning something new each day.

tree.

2009-01-06T21:08:00.003-05:00

I caught a flight home last night and walked in our front door around 10pm with my mom and dad. The first thing I noticed was that our Christmas tree hasn't been taken down yet.

This isn't something completely unusual or anything; we get our tree on Christmas eve usually, so I guess leaving it up through mid-January is getting our money's worth or something. (Don't even get me started on our family needing a fake tree instead of getting a real one each year... poor mother nature).

But as I sat on the couch last night before bed, watching some pointless TV show and figuring out what the heck I'm doing with my life, this tree stuck out for some reason.

To me, our Christmas tree is something I associate with a warm time of year where I don't have much to worry about. I can lay on the couch with the house lights off and the tree lights on and feel a different kind of peace than usual. It's a time of family, laughter, food, all that stuff. I like decorating it, putting up silly ornaments we made in elementary school with popsicle sticks and googly eyes and ribbon. I like the history of our family, I like that it's something we can visually see and realize and be aware of.

But the tree being up after Christmas feels so out of place. It feels like it's overstayed its welcome and is awkwardly trying to stick around so it doesn't go out with the next load of trash. The droopy branches and off-green color are hanging on for dear life, trying to look as proud as it can. My mom even came in tonight after work and turned its lights on, like it's not ten days after Christmas.

Is there some unspoken rule about when to take down the tree? I always thought leaving it up until New Years Day was fine, because if you have company over you want them to "admire your tree," whatever that's all about. But then should it come down? Can it stick around until Valentine's Day?

Right now I feel a lot like this dumb tree. Out of place, confused, droopy and trying really hard.

I'm glad I'm home, I just hope I start to find some of the answers I'm looking for.

I miss joy.

stained glass.

2008-12-19T14:42:00.004-05:00

I used to be an altar server at St. Aloysius Catholic Church. I mean, for YEARS I did this. Put on a white choir-y robe, walk up the center aisle with the priest, put out the candles at the right time, hand him the communion elements at the right time, kneel, stand, sit at the right time. I was always a bundle of nerves, really afraid to mess anything up.

My brother and I did this together, and he would get fidgety or start to fall asleep and I'd have to elbow him.

I'd sit there and study all of the stained glass windows so I wouldn't fall asleep. They were scary; Jesus' heart was on fire, for crying out loud!

I didn't know until about 10th grade that the lector was actually reading from the Bible. They said, "A reading from the first book of Paul to the Corinthians," or something like that, which doesn't sound anything like the Bible.

To this day, I HATE it when anyone giving a sermon says, "You all know the story of (insert a Bible story most protestants learn in Sunday school."
Listen, preacher (wo)man.
I went to CCD, on Tuesday nights, from 1st through 7th grade.
All we ever learned was how to pray the Hail Mary, Our Father, and Glory Be.
We learned when to kneel, stand, sit at the right time.
We learned how to genuflect and cross ourselves (eyebrows, heart, left shoulder, right shoulder).

I only learned about five years ago what the story was about Jonah and the whale, or Moses and Pharaoh, or whatever else.

I appreciate this upbringing a lot more now than I did then; the pews were uncomfortable and people get mad if you clapped or talked or something.

The last time I was at St. Aloysius Catholic Church was for my grandmother's funeral, the day before my senior prom.

I haven't been back since.

home.

2008-12-01T09:38:00.003-05:00

On the plane back to school last night, my mind was reeling. I tried to sleep, distract myself with a book, listen to the conversations around me- nothing worked. I literally had to take a few deep breaths to try to calm my thoughts a bit.

I realized that going home is a hard and beautiful thing. Realizing you aren't what you once were, and thank GOD for that, but how part of you wishes for that back. I sometimes wish I could just crawl into my mom's lap and be rocked to sleep.

It's kind of like the feeling you get when you come inside after being out playing in the bitter cold snow. It feels good, relieving, WARM. But at the same time, it's painful. It feels like needles as your toes defrost. Painful, but so good in that pain. That's what home feels like right now, I guess.

I'm so lucky to have the family that I do. I know not many people can get excited at the idea of going home, but over Thanksgiving Break I was more relaxed and at peace than I've been in a very long time. I slept in, I hung out with my parents and brother and sister, we laughed and joked and ate and lived. It was rich.

It's funny because in high school, I did everything in my power to get out of the house. I was social and didn't care; I remember screaming matches with my mom over getting back two minutes after curfew because I was at a friend's house. Now it's the opposite. When I'm home, if I go out with friends it's maybe once over break. Not that I don't love or miss those friends, I just have found so much comfort and love in that house.

This may be silly, but it makes me excited to make my own home someday. I want my kids to grow up in a place where they're free to be themselves, free to feel love and to show it, free to feel the pains of life because it's in the pain that we wake up.

I'm so thankful for my home.

...Maybe I just like the fact that at home I get to lounge around in sweatpants all day.

writing.

2008-11-19T18:57:00.002-05:00

For some reason, I have the sudden urge to spill this long-kept secret.

Okay, maybe not so much a secret as a dream. A wish, a desire, a hope. But still. The urge to spit it out just came up; maybe because I'm watching "You've Got Mail" (take a moment to roll your eyes here) or because I've been reading other people's online journals in the free time I've had lately (thank you double eye infection!). Either way, here it is:

I want to be a writer.

I feel so silly saying that. I don't think I'm that great of a writer, I'm in a small Christian liberal arts university studying Religion and Sociology, and haven't taken more than the required English course since I've been here.
Regardless of these things, regardless of the fact that I haven't studied writing or journalism or anything like that, I really want to be a writer. A legit author who doesn't pretend she knows anything more than the next person but is just REAL and FRESH and INVIGORATING and helps people through my words. Through other's words.

I want to write thoughtful articles that go into magazines and make people stop and think.
I want to write a book that isn't the same thing everyone's already heard.
I want to stay home with my pack of kids running all around me, an infant on my lap, writing to go to that "other place" and to help others to the same.

My problems?
-Lack of belief in myself (or this being possible to achieve)
-My ever-present need to impress others (even writing this entry, I'm trying to avoid people reading this and saying, "I hope that girl never becomes a writer 'cause this entry is bad enough!"... hmmm.)
-No interest whatsoever in taking any classes that would stamp a journalism degree on my resume
-Disgust with how many books/articles are out there written by people who think they know it all, and fear of becoming one of those people..

....That's all.
My little confession for the night.

I'm gonna get back to reality now. Word on some homework or something.
Thanks for indulging me. :)

burdens.

2008-11-04T01:37:00.003-05:00

"You don't have to live like this."

That's the most hopeful thing I've heard lately, even though it is tough to believe.
Depression is a funny, funny thing.

One minute I'm fine. My head is on straight and I'm thinking clearly. The next minute, my emotions are off the wall, bouncing everywhere, looking at all of the negatives.

For awhile, I thought that a lot of my depression was dependent on my actions. If I practiced more of the spiritual disciplines, I would be OKAY. I would be better and happier. And it did work, for a bit I guess. But then I stopped. Other things took over my time. And depression reared its ugly, ugly head.

It's pretty late right now and I should be in bed.
But I guess part of me just misses being up late. Knowing everyone else is asleep, and just THINKING. Just BEING.
No other distractions to try to tell me that God's not there.

I'm a spoiled brat for how I've been thinking lately.
Stomping my feet and squeezing my eyes shut so tight so that I can't see God moving around me.
Because if I start to trust Him again, that means I need to DO THINGS like read my Bible or pray.
And those things don't sound appealing right now.
That's gross. But true for me right now.

I wonder how God sees me.
I'm tired of sitting in Theology class, talking about God and just limiting Him more and more and more with every word, because nothing we think or say actually captures who He is. It's all of our best attempts at it, which usually fall really short.

I feel like I fall really short right now.

I just want to be free.

montana.

2008-08-04T17:24:00.002-05:00

It's been way too long, but I'm not going to waste time typing about that.

I've been living on the Blackfeet Reservation for almost three months now, and am leaving this Saturday. It's hard to believe that it's come and gone so quickly- I remember begging God to let me go home at the beginning, and now part of me is begging to stay. I've fallen in love with these people, these hearts, this scenery, this pace. But I know I have a lot to do back home, too... and it'll be nice to see people I've been missing a whole lot. :)

I've been wondering what it is about music that grabs the soul like it does. I've discovered some good bands this summer- The Avett Brothers, to name one- and there's something about driving alone in a car, the Rockies running next to me, a sky as big as I can imagine, the sun shining, and a good song. Silence is beautiful, but there's something about music that just captures people.

Every Tuesday night this summer we've had "Culture Night," where a beautiful woman named Jo comes with her family and shares their family, their culture, their history, and their lives with us. They bring their drum and play and sing while we make fools of ourselves learning some dances.

Tyke, her son, talked to me one night about how they believe that the drum is like the heartbeat, that every time you hear it something inside clicks. It finds the rhythm and goes along with it. They finish up each night singing "Amazing Grace" and I can't think of a better hymn with better lyrics to close out a night like this.

What a creative God we serve- that something as seemingly simple as a drum stick beating on an animal hide stretched over a wooden rim would make a noise that feels so natural- that would lead to people dancing and laughing and sharing.

I'm going to miss having the 4-year-old twins, Kenna and Kendall, hanging on me in their native outfits, full of feathers and life and history. I'm going to miss hearing Jo tell the story of her dad going to the mountain and learning patience. I'm going to miss looking up at night and seeing stars, I mean REALLY seeing them.

I can't wait for this upcoming school year. I can't wait to share the stories and the life that I've been given. I can't wait to hug people missed, laugh with old friends, go for a walk next to the Kokosing, wake up every morning.

I've been breathed into this summer, and I can't wait to breathe into others as well.

Thank You.

vulnerable.

2008-04-17T18:03:00.003-05:00

What would it look like if I, an RA in the freshman girls' dorm at MVNU, was more vulnerable and honest about my daily living?

What if I stopped putting on a smile and acting like it was all ok?

What if I took the time to let myself hurt and heal from my past?

There's a strong balance to be had between being a "rock" for these girls and being real with them.

Putting on an act is overwhelming, tiring, and leads to me convincing myself that it's all OK when in reality, it's not.
There's about a month left.
Have I influenced these girls at all?
Have I shown them the love of God?
Will they leave this year feeling more beautiful, feeling better about themselves?

Will I?

relaxation.

2008-03-15T16:02:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow morning at 7am, Stacey and I will be heading to Fort Meyers, FL for part of Spring Break. Then I'm headed back home to PA for the rest of break, including Easter.

I am more than excited to relax, not stress, read a few books, get some sun, and have fun with Stace.

attention.

2008-03-10T08:15:00.002-05:00

I woke up at 7am this morning with Laura Lynn to go to the PSU and work out.
After that, we went to breakfast and I had oatmeal and pineapples and tea.
Then I came back to my room and did something I haven't done in a very, very long time.

I gave God my full attention.

Even though in the past few months I've sat down to read, journal, pray, etc. I can't remember the last time I was fully present in any of these moments.
My mind races, I become distracted, and before I know it, I'm on to the next thing. It's one thing to allow a little room for ADD, and it's another thing to just not devote myself fully.

Last night on the way back from Polaris with Joe, I was fully present. I remember admiring the sky with him and feeling so filled with peace. I fell asleep on him with that peace flooding me, knowing God was in me and around me and loving me completely.

How many moments am I missing out on because I'm not fully, 100% present? What burning bushes, what quiet whispers, what Divinity and Majesty have gone past without me even noticing?

I need to slow down.
And I don't mean that this needs to wait until Spring Break, when distractions become smaller. I mean TODAY. I want to be fully present in every moment, giving myself fully to whatever is calling for my attention, always sensitive to the presence of God in each of those minutes.

Oh God, I need grace. And peace. And mercy. And for You to help me be completely aware of You in every little thing.

restoration.

2008-02-09T10:55:00.001-05:00

At Narrative last Thursday night, a group of us crammed into the Keller's apartment, eating coffee cake and sipping chai teas and cracking jokes.

And I witnessed something incredibly beautiful.

We were talking about what we think we're created for. This may turn into occupations for some or most over the years, but mostly we were talking about what we are truly passionate about, what we want to do to make a change in the world.

I held back tears later in my room thinking about the beauty that was in that room. My fear for the Church was eased a bit. I got to hear the deep-rooted passions of about twenty close friends, all whose underlying motive was to restore humanity in some way, shape, or form.

What would that look like if every single person in this world was less concerned about "making a living," being comfortable, making enough money to "support" one's family (which often turns out to be more excess than bare minimum)? What would happen if every person tapped into their own personal passion, went out and made a difference in it, no matter what the cost?

I don't know where I will be in ten years. I don't know where the rest of the people in that room on Thursday will be in five years. But I have full faith that God is and will be using us to bring a bit of healing to brokenness.

And for me? I don't know exact plans... I'm not sure about money or timing or anything like that... but I know that I don't feel more beautiful or more pure than when I think about working somewhere overseas with little kids whose lives have been shattered. I feel complete SHALOM when I think about holding a little girl, telling her that she was created for MORE, for more than being sold for sex, for more than being used over and over again. That she is beautiful, as white as snow, and there is hope.

Restoration.

I'm so thankful that I get to be a part of this.

love.

2008-01-24T00:55:00.000-05:00

I am a child of my Abba.
No matter what I do today, no matter what I did yesterday, regardless of what I do tomorrow... He loves me fully, powerfully, and passionately.

Earlier, I had a rough situation confront me. And for the first time, maybe in my life... I was able to come up to my room, shut my door, and fall into the loving arms of Abba. Like a child after a hard day of school.

I remember as a kid when I'd have tough days in middle school, all I could think about all day was running off of the bus, into my house, and into my mom's arms. I knew there I could cry and tell her about all of the mean things that were said to me that day and she'd just hold me and hug me and love me and reassure me.

Abba was that for me today.
He wrapped me up in His love, quieted me to a peaceful sleep, and reminded me that my worth to Him is not based on what I do or don't do "well." It's nothing based on my actions. My definition to Him is not my latest failure. He loves me for simply being His child, for every mistake and failure, every accomplishment and accolade, the past and the future.

He's worked in me so much lately. I've grown leaps and bounds, and I have much farther to go.
But I can honestly sit here and write the fact that I feel more beautiful than I ever have. I feel as pure as snow, as desired as a Bride, as accepted, loved, cherished... I could not ask for more.
I'm free from lies.
My past doesn't bind me.

He is mine, and I am His.
:)

Beautiful.

allegiance.

2008-01-11T00:44:00.000-05:00

The dictionary defines allegiance as:
1. the loyalty of a citizen to his or her government or of a subject to his or her sovereign.
2. loyalty or devotion to some person, group, cause, or the like.
3. loyalty or the obligation of loyalty, as to a nation, sovereign, or cause

While I do not necessarily allow someone else's definition of a word fully guide my thoughts and views, I think it's important to try to put explanations to some things I discuss.

The word "loyalty" pops up in each of those definitions.
That being the case, my sole loyalty is in Yahweh.
Devotion? To God. Sovereignty? Abba.

I pledge my allegiance to the Creator who breathes His very breath into me every single morning.
I pledge my allegiance to following the way of Jesus, seeking out to help out the least of these.
I pledge my allegiance to peace. I pledge my allegiance to Love.

I cannot and will not allow myself to be (consciously or subconsciously) aligned with opposing viewpoints. If my allegiance to anything- country, government, person, etc.- other than God is conflicting with the life and teachings of Jesus Christ, as His follower I simply can't do it.

While a lot of this may sound cheesy, even patriotic in nature, I whole-heartedly mean it. I want to fall asleep tonight knowing that I have an undivided heart.

Abba, I belong to You.

pain.

2008-01-06T09:25:00.000-05:00

Lately I've learned that it's okay to be taken care of.
That I don't always need to be the one fixing everything, and that it's a good thing to just SURRENDER and feel the peace of Abba in a new way.

I always enjoyed listening to Brennan Manning's benediction:
May all your expectations be frustrated.
May all your plans be thwarted.
May all your desires be withered into nothingness.
That you may experience the powerlessness and poverty of a child and sing, dance, and trust in the love of God who is Father, Son, and Spirit.
Amen.

But now it takes on new meaning. I feel frustrated. I feel like my plans have been thwarted. My desires are no longer what they once were. I feel MORE than powerless, sometimes it's even more than I feel like I can handle.

In the pain, I'm learning and growing and stretching and reaching and fumbling.
I have no other options than to curl up in the lap of my Abba, cry myself to sleep and ask Him for mercy for the next morning.

Pain sucks, but I'm seeing that He uses everything and anything, no matter how silly I look after I've cried for hours and my eyes are puffier and redder than ever.

That all being said... the honest truth is that I'm ready for this whole thing to be over.

family.

2007-12-22T23:46:00.000-05:00

Is sitting around a TV watching a movie REALLY "good, quality family time"?
I can't help but feel like we're worshipping an idol.
All of our couches, chairs, pillows are facing the TV. We're not speaking to each other, except for a random comment towards what we're watching. After it's over, we get up and leave with few words towards one another.

That doesn't feel right.
That feels cheap.

And what I am I doing about it? Nothing.
Maybe next time I should suggest a board game, or (crazy thought) TALKING to each other.

Are our movies and "entertainment" covering up the real thoughts in our home right now? Are we numbing the pain of my brother's "rebellion' by not talking? Are we afraid of what conversations could be had if we actually talked to one another?

Something's incredibly wrong here.

I'm hoping and praying this Christmas season that we can come together, as a family, and show each other the love that we all need.

cookies.

2007-12-16T17:50:00.001-05:00

I just spent a lot of time baking "Christmas cookies."

Any other time of the year, they'd just be straight up cookies.

Why is it that they get to be dubbed "CHRISTMAS cookies" ???
What is it that makes these particular cookies celebratory of the birth of Christ?

Traditions and pasttimes are weird.
The fact that baking cookies in the middle of December brings with it certain emotions, memories, thoughts, feelings.
Sneaking tastes of the cookie dough when my mom wasn't looking, her being stressed out because everything was a mess from baking, the one year when my mom was baking and my brother cut his head open on a doorknob.

I don't think it's a bad thing to celebrate traditions, to have memories. Not at all.
These ones especially are good because they involve my family.

But how many traditions do we have this time of year that aren't glorifying to God?
Or, even worse, that spit on the entire concept of God incarnate, and what that really means and looks like.
I guess I just want to keep an eye on why certain things evoke certain feelings. Whether they are helping me look to God in this Advent season or pulling me away from the purpose.

And on another note...
Can I just say that I have come to HATE, DESPISE, and LOATHE the majority of "Christmas decorations" ?!?!
If I see one more plastic Swedish baby Jesus with his arms raised in the air, LIFE-SIZE, in someone's front yard, I may scream.

(Ironic that I complain about that after I just talked about what the real celebration of this time of year is?)

AND, for the record... I just ruined an entire batch of cookies.
I am not as good as my mom at this.

Peace.

fear.

2007-12-13T17:12:00.000-05:00

I'm finally finished with finals. After my last exam today, I had a 15-page paper looming over my head that I hadn't started. Somehow, I got it done in four hours. I seriously have no idea how it happened, it just did, and I'm not complaining.

My dad called while I was writing the paper in the library, and says "well, there's some stuff I need to tell you about Eric."
Ah, my rebellious younger brother. He's in his first year of college at Penn State, Berks campus. In the last year, he's gotten heavily into drinking, smoking pot, hanging out with the "wrong crowd" (whatever that means), etc.
He just got a $400 ticket for underage drinking, and a speeding ticket. My parents paid both of them for him, told him it was a "one-time-only" thing, and that he needs to straighten out. They're worried about him, and so am I.
My dad went through a phase like this in his late teens, and I can tell that it's really killing him to watch Eric do the same thing. My dad knows the pain, and he's almost re-living it through him now. You'd think I'd be a loving, sympathetic, caring older sister and daughter at this point.

But as my dad is talking to me about this, my selfishness starts creeping in. I start feeling, of all things, COMPETITIVE with my younger brother (who doesn't even REALIZE there's this competition going on)... I start thinking about how I wish my parents tried to get in touch with me more often and hear what's happening in my life as much as they are his.
I started getting frustrated that the only thing I asked for this Christmas was a MacBook (my laptop is just fine, but old and slow, and of COURSE I need BIGGER AND BETTER FOR CHRISTMAS!!!), and my Mom was shocked at the suggestion of such a high-priced gift... understandably so.
Then I'm thinking, "so they can easily pay $500 to bail out my brother, but when I ask for something to help me in my education, I get yelled at."
I also got angry and frustrated with my brother, thinking how stupid he's being, all the agony he's causing my parents, and how he needs to just straighten out.

Now that I've had time to process all of that, I think it's something deeper.
I think all of this is pointing to something else going on inside of me.

I think I'm afraid.
In reality, I'm scared to death for my brother.
I'm worried sick about him.
And every selfish thought, ridiculous idea, and outlandish comment that popped into my head is really just telling me that I am SCARED.

I want to love on him during break like there's no tomorrow.
I want to do whatever I can to show that kid that I'm proud of him, that I love being his sister, and that he means the world to me.

I hope I don't get side-tracked by all of that other fear crap. I hate fear.

children.

2007-12-09T17:30:00.000-05:00

I've grown up in a house that adores kids.

I remember sitting in Catholic mass with my parents, watching them play with the little toddler in the pew in front of us. Making silly faces, picking up their toys and keeping them distracted, even offering to HOLD them (which, as a teenager, used to embarass me to no end. They're not your kids, quit asking to hold them?!). The parents would be so grateful at the end of the mass, thanking my parents for keeping their children quiet. "I can't remember the last time they got through a mass without crying."

I have a large extended family, and lived in a neighborhood filled with toddlers, so growing up always I had the opportunity to babysit.

At family birthday parties, all forty of us would cram in someone's house and play games and eat food while the kids ran amuck. My dad would be the "cool uncle" who would actually play with the little kids instead of just watching TV. I look back with a lot of pride knowing that "Uncle Rob" was the most fun. Watching him be the jungle gym to twelve little kids still makes me laugh.

I've always known that one of my biggest things in life is wanting to be a mom, but there's also so many fears that come with that. Will I be too selfish? Will I give them the care, attention, and love that they need and deserve? How will I discipline them? Will I be too hard on them? Too soft? Will they grow up and hate me? How would God want me to raise children? What can I teach them? How will I teach them? ...and the list goes on for days.

Here at school, I have the blessing of being able to watch Miss Kyla Keller about once a week. I can't describe the rest and relaxation those hours bring to me, just the reality that I'm dropped back in to. That I may graduate from this university with book knowledge, but even more importantly the wisdom that I can gain from looking into that little girl's eyes and seeing what it really is all about. That a laugh from an infant can cure a multitude of worries. Cuddling up with her on the couch and just watching her fall asleep... MAN. There's nothing like it.

Holding her, it's hard not to think about the children around the world who aren't being held. Who aren't fed at a moment's notice. Who aren't clothed, bathed, LOVED, in any way. I remember Travis bringing Kyla out to visit when a few of us were involved in a homeless simulation in fall. It was a little chilly out, and I made a comment about Kyla getting cold, and he responded "Think about all of the children in the world who have no warm clothes or warm houses to go back to."

It knocked me back.

I grew up thinking that I wanted to have a huge family, with six kids of my own, in a big house with a huge yard for them to play on.

Now I think I want to have maybe one of my own, and adopt as many as I can.
Financially, I have NO idea if that's even possible.
Maybe at some point I can work in an orphanage somewhere. Or do foster care.

Something.

I'm thankful for the experience with kids I've had growing up. I'm thankful for my parents, who did a wonderful job raising three of us. I'm thankful for the opportunity to someday raise kids of my own, and even more thankful for a God who doesn't love me based on how "good of a job" I'll do.

This whole post makes me sound way too old for my own good.
But it's just something on my mind.

Now back to studying for finals????

speak.

2007-12-04T02:12:00.000-05:00

Life is a whirlwind right now. My planner tells me I have a thousand assignments to finish, my body tells me I need sleep and rest, my soul tells me I need a Sabbath, and I tell myself to update my blog.
So here I am.

I was reminded tonight how important communication is.
How I can never be afraid of someone not accepting me for how I truly feel.
I'm still learning, daily, how to properly express where I'm at.

I thought that I was oh-so-mature and over my "people-pleasing." Oh, no way.
Today, a few comments were made to me that really made me automatically question myself, my position as an RA, my relationship, my walk with God.. and not in a good way.
It's made me think a lot about accountability, and what I should take into account from people. I know that I need to stay balanced with everything in my life. But I also know that worry and fear aren't of God, and I can't beat the crap outta myself over things other people say.
If I'm "doing something wrong," I need to check it out, correct or work on it, and move on.
And remember the entire time that I have an Abba who loves me as I am, right in this moment, nothing added or subtracted.
What an incredible thought.

I feel the need for some reason to tie words around the beauty that's unfolding in my life lately. But I truly can't.
There aren't words for watching the love of God acted out for me on a daily basis. Every minute filled with acts of selflessness and Agape and friendship and just... goodness.
Even on a night like tonight, when I was struggling a lot with thinking selfishly and just forgetting God in the mix... I was met by Abba in the presence, words, and care of a boy.
Weird.
Wonderful.
Good.
Exciting.
Scary.

It's late. I'll probably be up all night doing homework, so I should get to that.
I'll try to update more coherently after all of the madness known as the end of the semester is over. We'll see if I'm still alive by then. :)

Peace.

shopaholic.

2007-11-21T21:35:00.000-05:00

I wonder if there's something that the government chemically alters in the air around the middle of November.

Maybe the Walmart trucks drive around, secretly dumping invisible drugs into our atmosphere that turns everyone into shopaholics.

I had the opportunity today to meet up with some of the older kids from youth group at the new outlet stores near my house. Good fellowship with the youth, terrible place for it. These outlets are made up of about thirty high-end stores that made me feel like I had to pay money to even step foot into the place.

(Side note: I really have a hard time understanding expensive purse stores. First of all- a store for purses? Weird. Second of all, there's glass shelves, with one purse on each shelf...ONE PURSE... not only an intense waste of space, but do I really want to carry something around that looks like it was in a museum a day ago? SO weird.)

Anyway...

Let's say I want to buy sneakers from the Nike outlet.

I don't know who made those shoes, what their working conditions were, and how much they were paid to make something that I could easily drop money on.

And yet, I still get that feeling as I'm walking through these stores... "Oh, I could really use that..."

When did we become so detached?

Now, it'd be easy to blame all of this on me being a girl. We're born to shop, right? It's in our blood. It's how we bond.

Something's wrong here.

Extremely wrong.

Why do I get that "I need this" feeling?

What deep down inside of me am I trying to satisfy in buying stuff?

Stuff that I really DON'T need, at all.

I was trying to pay close attention to the advertising today, and it blew me away how much of it is directed towards the "oh, but you NEED THIS!" perspective. In one store, over the loudspeaker I hear a woman with a sing-songy voice saying "now that I've got that great holiday outfit, I need the perfect accessories! Well, you're in the right place!"

...When will it end?

When will we be satisfied?

And how many people will we have to step on and over to get everything we want?

My heart's broken this holiday season, and I know that this Black Friday will leave my heart even heavier. Not only for others, but for myself and my continual struggle to be cured from the shopaholic side of me. I only hope to have my eyes further opened and to help open those eyes around me, starting with my family and friends.

Forgive us.

redeemed.

2007-11-15T01:52:00.001-05:00

I have a tattoo on my right foot of a dove with the word "redeemed" below it.
I love it.
I want another one. Or two.
But when I went to that tattoo shop in PA, I'm pretty sure I really didn't grasp the fullness of the word "redeemed." That makes me feel goofy now, considering this thing is on me forever... but I'm enjoying what's happening. I'm watching the depth of the word grow in a way that I didn't know was possible.

In the last two days, I've felt a lot of brokenness from my past. A steady ache still sits there when I think back on past hurts.

But I've also felt a lot of healing.

Last night, I got to sit back and watch a room full of a girls begin the healing process by shedding tears, confessing, loving one another, being vulnerable.
I've had a lot of girls come up to me and ask to talk or share.
Talk about redemption.
God taking something so terrible, so painful, so wrong... and shaping it into something so beautiful.
I really can't wrap words around the site of healing.
Thinking that I even had a slight part in that is extremely humbling.

And I've seen God's in a new way lately.
In a way that can't be described.
In a way that scares me, excites me, confuses me, thrills me.
In a way that I never expected.

I probably still have no idea about the word "redeemed."
When I'm old and gray and the tattoo is wrinkly (ew), I still probably won't fully grasp it.
But for now, I know that God's woven a beautiful story in my life, and is blessing me by allowing me to watch Him work.

I'm tired of not having the words to describe my thoughts.
But this'll do for now, I guess.

past.

2007-11-10T02:00:00.000-05:00

For some reason, I'm extremely emotional tonight. To the point of tears. Lots of them. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, just.. a bunch of tears.

Maybe I'm just way too tired and sick to make sense right now.
Or maybe God's showing me something.

I guess what it comes down to is that... I'm realizing how much of an effect certain moments in my past have on me today.

I hate saying that in such a "woe-is-me" way, because I'm so incredibly, deeply thankful for this intricate story that God has woven.
But it kills me that the decisions I've made (or didn't make?) can creep back up out of nowhere and make me feel helpless.
Extremely, extremely helpless.

I have random times where I really am hit with it out of nowhere, and I guess tonight is just one of those nights.
And I know that sitting here crying is a part of healing.
That I need to be okay with the hurting, and not shove it down and pretend nothing ever happened. Because I know the danger in that.
I want to let myself hurt. It just.. well, it hurts? (Duh.)

It's confusing, because I'm finally at this point where I know that I'm beautiful.
Not in the earthly way, I stopped caring about that (for the most part??) a long time ago.
Beautiful in the way that I know I wake up each morning choosing to follow Christ, and THAT makes me beautiful. That decision allows Christ to work in me and through me, and there is nothing more gorgeous than that.
And I'm thankful that I've finally reached that point, because it's taken awhile.
It's taken me a long time to grasp the idea that God meets with me, so intimately, so lovingly, regardless of the past. His love is nothing near conditional. I choose Him, and beauty is wrapped in that.

But it also doesn't mean that the hurt will automatically disappear.

I wonder what we can "do better" as the Church to help one another along in our brokenness. Even what I can do as an RA, in a dorm full of freshmen girls who may not know how to BE broken. How to feel pain and let it be healed.
We spend a lot of time and energy making sure nobody ever dwells on the hurt, even ourselves. Man, does that end up killing even more in the long run.
I don't want to pretend that nothing's wrong. I want to be real with people. But it's tough bearing my soul. Extremely tough.
Vulnerability is tough.

But I can't think of anything more vulnerable than being beaten, bruised, spit on, and mocked, only to be hung on a cross.

I've still got a lot of learning to do.

retaliation.

2007-11-01T22:50:00.000-05:00

When is it OK to retaliate?
When is a situation "bad enough" that it calls for you to fight back?
Is there any situation?
Is it sinful to gain revenge?

I was talking with a few friends about this over hot apple cider, lattes, and chai tea tonight. We were tossing around these questions and a hypothetical situation came up.
Say that I was being attacked by a man. Do I physically fight back? Or do I let him do whatever he wants?
It sounds extreme, but I really don't think that the Jesus I read about in the Gospels would raise a hand. I don't think He'd fight back. At all.

Now say I had a daughter, and the same thing was happening to her.
Do I rise up to defend her? Do anything I can to protect her??
Or do I sit back and watch my own child be badly beaten, mocked, abused?

.... didn't God have to do that???

Joe said something tonight about how when we see someone being attacked, maybe it comes down to standing in between. Taking the beating upon oneself.

That reminds me of Jesus more than fighting back does.
Taking someone else's abuse out of sheer love.
For no reason other than just that-- love.

All of these things are so easy to write down, talk about, discuss. But to act that out? To sit back, no matter what the circumstance, and pray that the living Spirit of Christ in me will be shown to any attacker? To literally be that person?
I don't know.

Into Your hands I commit my Spirit?

humility.

2007-10-30T00:16:00.000-05:00

There's been a few times in my life where God shows me something or does something that just knocks me down on my butt.
That makes me realize again that I know so very little.
That He's so much bigger than I can wrap my brain around.
That I lack so much wisdom and knowledge.

And yeah, this can be a bad way of thinking if it gets out of control.
If I always think this way, it could be hurtful.
But I know for a fact that I need reminding.

I haven't been very loving to people lately. Too wrapped up in my own mind to really love extravagantly.
Why is it easier to love Shawn and Erin in downtown Columbus than it is to love a freshman girl here at MVNU?
Why can't I get out of God's way?
I'm getting knocked off my high horse.
Being reminded that I don't have it all together.
That without God, I can't do any of this.

I can't balance this school work.
I can't be patient.
I can't feel rested and refreshed.
I can't love no matter what the circumstances.
I can't not judge.
I can't be there for people.
I can't be.. without You.
Not on my own.

So embarassed, ashamed, shy, and helpless, I'm gonna crawl back to You with the hope and knowledge that You'll keep growing me.
That You will do all of these things that I am unable to do.

I can't fit my mind around this.

credits.

2007-10-26T07:59:00.000-05:00

On campus here, we have something called "spiritual life credits." You can "earn them" through going to chapel, being in a small group, going on a mission trip, etc. You have to have enough by the end of the semester or you are monetarily fined.

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

How many students has this jacked up?
I mean, they are given the idea that in order to be "spiritual enough" on this campus, you need to do so many of these "spiritual" things.

Does that sound right to anyone?

The argument is "well, we need some way to make sure kids come to chapel."
(Which sometimes results in them hearing a sermon about works-based faith anyway, so I guess it works out all around......)

I've been trying to think of how this could change, but a problem I've come into recently is this: Any problem that "requires change" (in my little brain) doesn't just have a surface problem. The entire concept would need restructuring. Tearing it down from top to bottom and redoing EVERYTHING.
The same for "spiritual life credits": it's not an issue of the credits themselves which are ridiculous; it's how this campus views the need. Sure, kids being in chapel allows God to work in them and through them; so we miss the point that He can work anytime, anywhere? Does it only have to be in that chapel? What are we doing OUTSIDE of that building to strengthen people, educate them, love on them? Or are we only required to do that in the stained glass building?

Deep-rooted issues with anything but a quick fix.
This is where thinking creatively comes into play, and lately I think I've found that I really am lacking in some creative ideas. I'll work on it?...
...and maybe get a few spiritual life credits for it when I'm done.

guilt.

2007-10-22T18:36:00.000-05:00

But for those of you that have done so know how it feels and goes when that boy or girl you just did is long gone leaving you with a sad song hurting hearts. You can be made new, poke a teeny tiny hole in your heart for him to shine his light through and you will be made as bright white and as dove take flight around this guilt that has interloped itself around your soul so tightly.
-bradley hathaway

I needed to hear this.

But it also makes me wonder about guilt.
Is all guilt self-inflicted?
We throw around the word "conviction" a lot... does God convict us?
Does He bring that painful stab of guilt to us?
Because in my life, I know that sometimes guilt is worse than just moving on from anything sinful in my past. Sitting there and wallowing in those terrible feelings of "what was I THINKING?!" doesn't glorify God in any way, shape, or form.
Romans 8 is ringing in my ears lately.

All I know for now is that I need to focus on ridding myself of... myself.
Selfish wants, desires, ambitions.

On another note.. it's fall. The leaves are changing. And it's gorgeous.

What an A.D.D. entry.
Ha.
Peace.

devotions.

2007-10-18T23:57:00.000-05:00

I wonder who thought up the idea of daily devotions?
I was reading some selections pomomusings.com earlier... a great site that people need to check out if they want to see some good thought-provoking discussions. I seriously spent about two hours last night reading through entries, and my brain was racing. I loved it.
I ran across an entry earlier today about daily devotions. It was called "Quitting Quiet-Times" and caught my attention right away.
The author of the blog entry, Adam Cleaveland, got some positive and negative comments to this entry. One negative one being:
"If we get down to the real issue here, it is commitment and discipline. Yes, I said it discipline. A lost word in Christian circles. Not just doing what feels right but doing what we know is pleasing to the Lord."

Interesting.
Discipline.. a lost word in Christian circles... really?
Because in youth group I often was told to read my Bible daily to get closer to God.
That sounds like discipline to me. Probably not the discipline God had in mind.

And I feel like when God wants us to be "disciplined"... I have a feeling it's not something like waking up an hour early to half-heartedly read the Bible ("even when it doesn't feel good")...
I think what doesn't feel good is forgiving those hardest to forgive. Offering Grace when it hurts. Loving when it hurts. Giving when I feel like I have nothing left to give.
Not a devotional book.
Not sixty minutes out of my day.

Back in freshmen year, I tried for about a month this one hour a day devotional time with God. It had this whole structure, including reading the Bible in a year, and I remember really liking it. Really "feeling close to God." Loving the emotional side of it.
And of course, it died down after a few months.
An hour a day was missed once or twice, and it slowly dwindled down to nothing.
And the self-inflicted guilt trips that followed I think hindered me more than anything had "helped" in those hour-long times with God.

I heard it described once as how we should schedule time with God because we do the same with people around us. If I tell a friend I'll meet her at six for coffee, and spend an hour with her, why can't I do the same with God?

...Can we really even compare that?
Can we seriously put God into that small of a box (I hate that saying but it's all I've got for now) that we compare spending time with Him to spending time with a friend over coffee?
Really???

And this year.. I can remember very few times where I scheduled a time to sit aside with my Bible and a devotional book and sit there for a half hour.
Do I read the Scriptures? Yes, but not in the same way. Not to find an answer.. more to find out more questions. I study. I get frustrated. Sometimes, yes, I'm comforted. Mostly I'm challenged.
Do I pray to God? Yes. Unceasingly, as much as possible. Realizing Him in every moment. In every interaction and situation.
So that when I'm sitting there with my friend over coffee (or some Chai tea with honey, in my coffee-hating case), the presence of God is in me, flowing through me, and around me.
Instead of acting like He's not there, and rushing back to my room to "meet Him there," and then leaving after the hour is over.

I appreciate study. I agree with pursuit of a deeper knowledge of God. But the rest of it? I don't agree with.
Someone also commented on the previously mentioned blog post with this quote:
A desire for God that can not break the bonds of sleep is a weak thing- E.M. BOUNDS

I love the quote, taken out of that context; I have not been able to go to bed before 2am this entire year due to my desire for God.
But if you're trying to tell me that my desire for God should wake me up an hour earlier before my 8am class to "spend time with Him," then something is terribly wrong.

May I never, ever, ever separate the presence of God from any moment of my day. And may we, as a community, realize that guilt tripping one another on works-based faith (or a lack thereof) is dangerous and hurtful.

I want to breathe You in every breath that I take.

change.

2007-10-17T00:46:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I'm laying on my couch with my laptop on my.. lap.. and playing David Crowder softly.
It's getting to be my new favorite time.. right around 2am. I'm just getting sleepy enough that my most genuine thoughts come out. I wanna describe it with the word "soft" even though I know that doesn't make a ton of sense. I feel soft. Delicate. Honest. All masks are off that might be there during the day. I'm at peace with who I am, what my thoughts are, and God's just whispering Truth into my ear like there's no tomorrow. I love it.

A few minutes ago, it started pouring rain outside. Then it stopped. Then it started. And then stopped again.
It was beautiful because I'd had music playing the entire time I've been laying here, and had turned it off for a minute to look for another artist..... and the rain started. Not to be cheesy, like "God turned off my music so I could hear!" or anything.. but it was sweet. No offense, Crowder, but it was way better music.
:)

I've been thinking a lot recently about what change is happening in the world around me.
I mean, the girl I was a year ago and the girl I am today are strangers.
Two completely different people.
And I'm thankful for that. Not like I was a terrible person, but I don't think I really understood.. well, a lot of things. I was pretty clueless actually.

And if I can change this much in that amount of time.. what about those around me?
How can I help to spur on the change in those around me?
Questions? Love? Friendship?
All of it?

I mean, it's been almost literally one year since I first started REALLY thinking, processing, learning what it truly means to be covered in the dust of my Rabbi. 365 days, many late nights, many books, dialogue, conversation, discussion... and here I am.
Changed.

And that gets me thinking about the Church as a whole. What it can become. The redemption. The healing. The change that can occur in the institution that is desperately aching for change.

It's hard to go from realizing that everything I ever knew about "church" (steeple, bullitens, offering plates, donuts and coffee, dressing better than I do the rest of the week, etc) was wrong.. to realizing the fact that it can be redeemed. That we can break down the barriers that too many "come in, sit down, sing, listen, leave" Sunday gatherings have created. That there can be vulnerability and shared brokenness and honesty on a constant basis, not just when it feels good. That we can be aware of our brothers and sisters in the world around us and make a difference in their lives.

I still have a hard time on Sunday mornings waking up and going somewhere. I have a hard time not going, too. Again, it's trusting that there are gatherings that show me that change is possible. That it can be different.

And.. because I NEVER use Crowder lyrics...

"Surely We Can Change" by.. you guessed it..
and the problem is this: we were bought with a kiss,
but the cheek still turned, even when it wasn’t hit.
and i don’t know what to do with a love like that
and i don’t know how to be a love like that
when all the love in the world is right here among us
and hatred too, and so we must choose what our hands will do

where there is pain, let there be grace.
where there is suffering, bring serenity.
for those afraid, help them be brave.
where there is misery, bring expectancy.
and surely we can change something.

and the problem it seems is with you and me,
not the Love who came to repair everything
and i don’t know what to do with a love like that.
and i don’t know how to be a love like that.
when all the love in the world is right here, among us.
and hatred too and so we must choose what our hands will do.

where there is pain, let us bring grace.
where there is suffering, bring serenity.
for those afraid, let us be brave.
where there is misery, let us bring them relief.
and surely we can change something.

the whole world's about to change..

Surely we can change something. Surely I don't want to miss being a part of that.
I want to sit a year from now feeling even more change. Feeling like I did make a difference in lives I interacted with. In the "church." On this campus.
I want to bring grace, serenity, courage, relief, and change to everyone I meet. Everyone.
And not for my own personal gain. Not for the world's glory. For the change that needs to happen. That this world is groaning for.

And it is now 3:38am and my brain has stopped working officially.
Back to that paper that's due tomorrow?
Peace.

ouch.

2007-10-12T15:36:00.000-05:00

I Need Words
I need words
As wide as sky
I need language wide as
This longing inside
And I need a voice
Bigger than mine
And I need a song to sing you
That I've yet to find
I need you, oh
I need you
-David Crowder

How often do we try to explain things that we can't?
To put words around a subject that won't fit in our brain, let alone our vocabulary?

I am all for thinking, prodding, discussing.. but I am also becoming very aware how limited my mind is and how even more limited my words are.
It hurts my heart to think of how often we've put finite words on an infinite God.

Covered Him and His work with petty phrases... and paintings of Jesus in a boxing ring.

(The title of the"art piece" below is "Undefeated"........................)

I think I'll just leave the thoughts at that.

urgency.

2007-10-09T10:07:00.000-05:00

Tracts make me cringe.

Now, I don't disagree with the fact that we need to be urgent in our "evangelism."
I don't disagree with the fact that many people don't know the love and power of God and should know it.
But I also realize that tracts, bullhorns, and quick interactions don't do as much good as we think they do. Maybe sometimes they even do harm instead of good.
Not to discredit the point that people ARE changed by tracts (few people, but some); it's a beautiful thing for a person to be in union with God, no matter what the means, time, place, etc. And maybe it's wrong of me and not my place to judge whether or not a person "saved" through reading a tract is truly "saved." (Another topic for another day).

I guess my thought process is this:
Yes, God can move in this things regardless.
But is it the way? The "narrow path"?
Us living out God's specific call on our lives to make disciples?
I don't know.

Maybe I'm contradicting myself here by not trying to step on any toes. By saying that God can move in ANYTHING but then also critiquing how it's always been done.

But at the same time, something just doesn't feel right about this stuff.

Discipleship in the early Church was the means by which God-in-flesh chose to spread the word about Himself.
He had His twelve. Of course He could've had his twelve million, but He had twelve.
(My only confusion with this is that He still had His Sermon on the Mount. That wasn't small-group discipleship, but it was also GOD INCARNATE speaking and not a confused little ol' human. Hmmm.)

I researched a tiny bit on the word "disciple" (not nearly enough) and I found this quote:
"While a disciple is one who learns from a teacher, a student."
I find that really interesting.
That Jesus, while here for a short time, was more focused on teaching His students than He was on quickly sending them out into the world.
"Make disciples of all nations."
Not "make converts."
Not "win them for Jesus."
"Make disciples."
"Make students and teachers."
"Make followers and rabbis."

So maybe.. just maybe.. if we focused more on learning from one another, teaching one another, and having the disciple-teacher idea be our central idea.. belief in the beauty of God and what He has done for mankind would move like it was meant to.
There wouldn't be any more urgency because the only urgency was to learn more from one another.
And if you've ever engaged in conversation with people who are willing to teach AND learn, you'd know that God is extremely evident. Because there has to be a sense of humility. Of mutual brokenness. Of ekklesia. Of faith and love and beauty.

Just some thoughts from a girl who probably has no idea what she's talking about.
:)

stories.

2007-10-08T01:45:00.000-05:00

Some stories from downtown this week:
Gordon, at the first stop, likes to invent things. He came up with the idea for a self-generating generator. He had a necklace on that he had made himself. You could tell he was proud of it.
Mark, at the second stop, got jumped earlier that day. The guys ganged up on him, left a big gash in his nose, and stole his bike. He drives a forklift and he likes reading Stephen King novels.
Tuesday, at the third stop, is a ten-year-old girl who has a hard outer shell. That shell makes me worry for her and worry why a girl that young is so defensive already. She wanted a soft blanket, like the one we gave her mom.
Erin, at the fourth stop, is gorgeous. She loves her husband Shawn and she wanted us to give her an extra blanket for an old couple they met on the street. She didn't ask for anything for her or Shawn until we offered multiple times.

These stories don't even begin to scratch the surface of the people we meet in downtown Columbus.
These are four stories. Only four.

Do I take enough time to learn the stories of those in my own family?
Living on this floor, on this campus, in this town?
Do I learn the stories of those overseas often enough?

Maybe more importantly, what do I do with those stories that I HAVE learned from these beautiful people downtown? Do I press them into my memory and think about them constantly? Do I use them as fuel to maybe "do more" the next time, maybe even "do better"? Do I allow my heart to care deeply, passionately, fervently for each and every one of them? Do I listen to them, and REALLY listen, treating them no differently than I would my own sister or brother?

God, I hope I never would use these stories as anything selfish, petty, futile. I would pray that they wouldn't just be a good ol' blog entry, but a real record of the lives of these gorgeous people that I have the privilege of meeting.
Sometimes I wonder how much good I'm doing.

And sometimes I need to trust in how much good He can do in and through me..

appreciation

2007-10-04T23:55:00.000-05:00

How ungrateful can I be?
How selfish? Inconsiderate?
How often am I thankful?
How often am I appreciative?

I'm sick to my stomach right now.
Hurting deeply in my heart and soul.
I take every day for granted. Every single day.

Why is it that it takes a life-or-death situation (not even in my life, maybe just one that I witness) for me to REALLY start thinking about the precious gift that every single day is?
Why does it have to be a freakin' Hallmark commerical? "Live every moment to its fullest!" "Don't take a single second for granted!"
Why can't my thinking be that grateful (in the not-so-cheesy kinda way) on a constant basis?

And on another idea in my brain right now... why why why why why does my past STILL continue to come back to haunt me??
"Forgive yourself."
What does that even look like? Is it just a phrase people throw at me to make me "feel better"??
I shove past events down so deep that when they surface, I hardly recognize them sometimes. The real issues in my life of trust, or not accepting love, or grace, or forgiveness readily.. are very masked issues. Very hidden.
It takes me stepping back and piecing it all together in my brain for me to realize (in the words of Rob Bell) that THIS is really about THAT.

The hurt in my spirit right now is deep and real. And I want to study grace. I want to learn about the grace of God that I've been preached at about multiple times.. but have never really fully understood it (if that's even possible).

Thank God for gatherings in a warm apartment with warm, caring people. For being REAL. For brokenness that can be shared so that love can work its way in.

I'm learning.

knowledge.

2007-10-03T00:19:00.001-05:00

I can't count how many times I've gotten so fed up with being here at school.

I get sick of knowing that SO MUCH MONEY is going towards me being educated.. and sometimes sleeping in class.. or complaining about homework. Over $20,000 a year. Man.
I get sick of all of the crap in my room.
The STUFF. It's all just stuff.
I get sick of how selfish I can be here sometimes.
I get sick of classes that I don't feel are "beneficial" to me.. which is a totally different subject that points to my ignorance.. haha.
I get sick of seeing so many people "in relationships." And getting sidetracked. And knowing that even if I'm single, that still is me sometimes.
I get sick of consumerism that I see going on here, and then get sick of my OWN consumerism.

...And then I think about all I've learned in the last year of my life.
About the experiences that have opened my eyes beyond belief.
About the people I've met.
About the knowledge I've gained IN the classroom.. and out.
About what learning a bit of the Greek language has opened up by means of Biblical study.
About what learning information on Church History helps me understand things better today.
About Music in the Western World, and how someday I can engage in a conversation with someone whose passion rests in music and I have something to talk about with them.
And best of all, what I've learned about Love. In so many different contexts.

And then I'm reassured.
And I know that the knowledge I'm gaining will benefit me and others in the future.

I just don't know where to start sometimes. I don't know what to study, what to put aside "until later", how much to focus on schoolwork and how much to try to get experiential knowledge, what questions are "more important" than others, etc.
For example... the term "YHWH." I want to study that, when it is used, how it is used, what it means... but I have Greek translations to do and reading for Heritage. So what takes priority? In my heart I want to grasp the concept of YHWH but I also know that I need to be responsible and do my work. And the work that I'm assigned will benefit me just as much as studying the term.

And to top all of this madness off.. the more I learn, the more I realize that I don't know anything.
But, I like this quote:
"To be conscious that you are ignorant is a great step to knowledge." -Benjamen Disraeli

May we never stop learning, from every situation, in every moment, no matter what the cost.

rambo.

2007-09-30T15:23:00.000-05:00

So many times I come to write in this thing and start thinking of how I can sound smart.
I start trying to come up with eloquent words, deep ideas, or incredible questions.
And then I feel like a big loser 'cause I can't come up with anything.
I don't have the big sentences filled with deep ides.
I don't have the words.

All I have is a story about a man named Rambo. He had a cardboard sign that said "I need some 'help'" and made me wonder why he put "help" in quotes. Made me wonder whether he knows so much more than I'm ever going to know in this lifetime.
He filled me up with more love in twenty minutes than I have felt in a long time. His laughter, jokes, and incoherent statements made me see God in a way that I haven't seen Him before.
We danced with him in the middle of a parking lot.
We laughed. He talked about Bill Clinton and how he used to live in a $100,000 home but was tired of the money. About how if we gave him an umbrella he'd look like Mary Poppins.
And the thoughts about those precious twenty minutes are still swirling in my mind powerfully.
I didn't cry a single tear last night and I can't stop them from coming today.
I can't stop thinking about how much more they blessed me than I could ever bless them.
Where is he right now? Where will he sleep tonight?

Falling asleep tonight, I thanked God with more sincerity than I've had in a long time for my pillow and blanket. For the option of turning on a heater if it was too cool. For the shower I'd have the next morning.

But if I don't take these blessings and DO something with them... if I just sit around thanking God for what I DO have and do nothing more.. man. That's wretched.
What can I do? Is one day a week spending time with them "enough"?

Too many questions in my head. So many that I just want to hide from them because they break my heart, and fill me with emotions that I didn't even know existed.
The vulnerability I feel is frightening.

"Kindness has converted more people than zeal, silence, or eloquence." -Mother Teresa

That's all I've got for now.
Well it's not, but it's all I'm gonna write.

I feel like a nutcase.

dirt.

2007-09-26T20:55:00.000-05:00

I feel.. insufficient. Lowly. Dirty.
Here are some lyrics from good ol' David Crowder that beautifully describe my feelings right now:

"Wholly Yours"
I am full of earth
You are heaven's worth
I am stained with dirt
Prone to depravity
You are everything that is bright and clean
The antonym of me
You are divinity
What a certain sign of grace is this
From a broken earth
Flowers come up pushing through the dirt

The idea is mind-boggling to me. God picked dirt up in His hands. BREATHED INTO IT. The breath of the living God. In me. In those around me. Every single person. Walking around with the breath of God in them.

In Greek, the word for "breath" (pneuma) is the same word for "spirit."

This whole thing is accounted in Genesis 2 as follows:
"... the LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." (NIV)

Or, the last part could be read "..and breathed into his nostrils the spirit of life." The spirit of life. God's Spirit. Himself. He breathed. Himself. Into me.

Another Crowder lyrics comes to mind.. "You make everything glorious, and I am Yours, what does that make me?"

I'm rolling this around in my mind.
What causes me to (literally) feel like dirt sometimes? What actions? Situations?
What causes me, on the other hand, to feel like that holy being that He has created me as? What is it that helps me to recognize that I am filled with the breath of the Living God???

The only thing I can come up with is that I feel the most beautiful, the most pure, Spirit-filled, Spirit-acknowledging when I GET OUT OF MY OWN WAY. When I stop letting all of the little things get to me. When I stop being selfish and worried and concerned.
That's when the Breath shows up.
When that inexplainable love pours out of me.
Like God is literally breathing into my mouth.. my chest rises, I'm filled, and I can finally breathe out an enormous sigh. The evidence of His work.

I don't know. A few thoughts, I guess.
May the Spirit of God fill each of us up to a point where we can't explain it away. Where we know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we are breathed into by the Living God and therefore carry the Spirit around in each of us.
Peace.

ekklesia.

2007-09-24T19:09:00.000-05:00

The Greek word for "church" is ekklesia. A compound of "ek" meaning "out of" and a derivative of "kaleo" meaning "to call out." So, literally meaning "called-out ones."

We are created to be the ekklesia. We are called out.
Now my heart and mind are wondering, what exactly we are called out to do.
There is peace in not knowing yet, too.

Earlier I had a great conversation with Donny. I barely remember exactly what it was about, but I do know that it was (in the words of TK) "rich."
Those kind of moments really melt away my anger/bitterness towards "the church" as I've known it. Those conversations, that love, that brother/sisterhood, that common urge to seek God passionately... it makes me so.. excited. Happy. Relieved.

It's funny, when I give up hope on the "church" as I've known it, and have not-so-loving feelings towards what the "church" is and has done, God comes and remind me that I am CALLED OUT to be His church. It is my responsibility as much as any ordained pastor's to be His body and to be that open, broken, and honest with my brothers and sisters.

Thank You, God, for the ekklesia. And give me strength to not sit back and complain about everything wrong with "the church", but instead DO SOMETHING for once and be the change that I wish to see.

You are so good.
By the way... I liked that sunset today. Thanks.

Peace.

peace.

2007-09-22T13:04:00.000-05:00

Long time, no write.

Maybe long time, nothing TO write... because I haven't engaged my brain very much up until recently. This summer I practically put my mind on hold. I didn't want to think; I didn't want to struggle. I wanted comfort.
How dare I be that shallow. That conforming.

Thank You for grace and mercy.

And now I'm back here at MVNU, surrounded by beautiful people who challenge me and push me every single day. And I love it and despise it. I can't remember the last time I went to bed without a million questions swirling around in my head. Heck, I can't remember the last time I went to bed before 2am.

Had the chance to go to The Harbor last night. It was sweet. Got to speak with a girl about my age who wants to be a nurse because her parents both have cancer, and she just wants to be able to take care of them. That is beauty. And in the back of my mind I wonder if she knows that. If anybody tells her that. I hope I was able to express that to her.

My heart's changing. My passions are changing. The needs of this world don't change. They're ever-present. And somehow, I know God will line it all up. Just waiting for that point, I guess. In the mean time, I want to LOVE.
Such a cliche sentence. But I want to. I want to pour out the Spirit that is alive and well inside of me, and show that to others. I want to look deeply into their eyes and tell them that they are valued, loved, cared for, beloved, precious. Whether that's a girl in the dorm, a kid on the street, a girl at The Harbor, or my mom. I want everyone to see and feel that.

Still trying to find balance in it all.
This journey is beautiful.
I'm grateful that I'm on it.

Time to do a bunch of reading.
Peace to anyone who may read this.
Real, true, everlasting Peace.

again.

2007-06-13T20:51:00.000-05:00

I AM SO FRUSTRATEDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tonight at Youth we watched Rob Bell's NOOMA video "Dodgeball," which is one I've seen before and a great one. It talks about how we get frustrated at God for not providing something we think we "need" when He really has something SO much better just across the street.

So here I am. Again, God. BEGGING and PLEADING for a boyfriend. It's barely been a year since I broke up with Ryan, yet somehow in my mind I think I deserve a guy or something. Just like the whining kid in the video- "but I thought You loved me?!?!?"

Oh, JESUS am I sorry.
My focus so far this summer has been all about HIM so far instead of it being about You. I haven't read anything to stir up my hunger for you, I haven't gotten into any good discussions that press me towards you, I haven't even done stinkin' Western Civ homework for the online courses I need done by August.

WHAT. AM. I. THINKING?!?!?!

Lord God, I seriously do not know sometimes. I don't know why I've gone back to letting my emotions rule my life. I don't know why I've forgotten You so easily in the midst of this junk. I don't know why I don't trust You to provide a guy who will treat me like You want me to be treated. Please please please forgive me. Please help me get past this. Please help me not shortchange myself.

Help me.
Save me again from these silly emotions.
Remind me how You see me, and how that's the only thing that matters.

I am beautiful.
I am worthy.
I deserve a guy who will make me feel beautiful with every glance.
I deserve a guy who pushes me towards You, works with me to make Your kingdom known, loves You more than life itself.
I deserve a guy who...
Scratch all that.

I don't deserve anything. All I know is that I need You. I want You. I need Your love to fill up every inch of me.

You are love.
Now help me reflect that.
Amen.

worth.

2007-04-16T01:26:00.000-05:00

Why do I continue looking for worth in guys?

Why can't I just "get it"?

Why do I feel judged in this world of Christianity? Why do I even care what people think?

Why do I really just long to be loved, made to feel beautiful, held...?

Is this a "normal", girl thing? What the flip is normal, anyway?

I'm tired of it, God. So tired of it.
I'm tired of complaining about it.
I'm tired of talking about it.
I'm tired of being tired of it.

AHFJDKSJDSL:Ajflkdjfl;akghiuarephwfjDKL:JSKLA:JF:LDKSGJ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ayudar

2007-03-28T13:17:00.000-05:00

I got back from my first mission trip experience this past Sunday. I went with a group down to Juarez, Mexico.

I can't focus at all on school right now. I missed both classes today to try to catch up on sleep, and am having a hard time studying for an exam I have in 40 minutes. I hope this goes away, and at the same time I hope it doesn't.

I learned a lot; too much to write, too much to even say out loud.
I'm very much rendered speechless.

church

2007-03-10T11:59:00.000-05:00

I feel "called into ministry."

What. The. Heck. Does. That. Mean.

We're ALL called into ministry, but where is my focus? Where is my "sweet spot" that God wants me to move in? What does it look like? And forget the future- where does He want me working NOW?

I interned last summer at my church, and honestly I almost cringe at the idea of going back to that place thinking the way I think now, knowing what I know now.. Can I really make a difference in that community? Can I work there all summer without wanting to punch myself or others?

When I go down with the junior high kids to Harvey Cedars Bible Camp, what do I do? Do you water down truth for kids? Isn't that just building their foundation on sand, when they need rock? Can they even grasp rock? What does it look like?

I also was punched last night in the face with the fact that I've been trying desperately to find worthiness in guys- again. And that instead of wondering if this dude will pursue me like I want him to, I need to remember that God holds my worth. Ayiyie, will I ever get it right?

What do You want it to look like??? All of it. Church, community, love, relationships... everything.

"revival"

2007-03-07T23:46:00.000-05:00

What is revival, really? Why do we need it? Are we just so hungry for that emotional high with God that we set aside three days each year where we have better music, different speakers, and the title of "revival"?

Why do I feel like a sinner around my fellow students who think that revival is the greatest thing since altar calls? Like the line is drawn, and I'm the lone ranger standing on the other side looking at a crowd full of stone-holders.

Is any of this pleasing to You, God? Does any of this really make You feel honored or worshipped, or is it disgusting to You? Are we shouting meaningless repetitions, or is this what You want?

Something just doesn't feel right about this. It's beautiful to see people raising their hands in worship, crying, kneeling at the altar, etc.. but who knows how long it will last? Emotions die hard, I've learned this too well myself.

So now, I guess my struggle and call is to worship Him in spirit and in truth. What does that look like? How can I balance my mind (which is telling me that "revival" is ridiculous and demeaning to the very person of God), my heart (which is telling me to raise my hand, cry, and run to the altar because it seems like it feels good and may be "right"), and my soul (which is just crying out for You, in some way).

How long has it been all about us?
How can we make it all about You again? What does that even look like? Have we ever caught a glimpse of it?

Have mercy on us.