I have transferred my blog to Wordpress. Please bookmark me at the following link for future posts.
blessedriddance.wordpress.com
xo.
Andrea
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
burdened.
My friend murdered his roommate last weekend.
In the eyes of society he will always have "murderer" listed after his name - almost like a title. "So and so, the murderer." This title will forever linger. For this my heart is full of sorrow.
For the first time I feel true compassion toward someone who has committed such a vile and evil act. Never would I have expected this of him, that he would harm a person and leave that person on the ground, gasping at precious air for his own life. Never would I have imagined a rage to come from within him so deep that he could do such a thing. I'm appalled and yet deeply sad in ways I can barely articulate. There is not a word strong enough to wrap up in a neat descriptive package for you to understand. Grief has closed the depths of my mind so that my heart might begin to understand something greater.
Out of this circumstance God has burdened me with knowledge of His compassion toward us in our great state of depravity. To think that the Creator of the universe knows intimately our awful state and yet still loves us to such great heights that He might send Redemption...Oh how I marvel. And oh how I mourn. The Lord's is a heavy burden to try and comprehend, for I am merely human. I am created, not Creator. I alone cannot bear even a fragment of His work. And yet He has given me strength to understand - scarcely - His definition of compassion on us.
I challenge you to shift your paradigm - even slightly - to think from this place. We are depraved. We have either found redemption or have the opportunity to find redemption in the blood of Christ. The victim desperately needs to be rescued, but what of the perpetrator of evil? Does not their soul need saving? Does he not breathe as I? Does he not need food as I? Does he, deep in his soul, not crave mercy and love as I? Does he not need grace as I?
I believe he does.
In the eyes of society he will always have "murderer" listed after his name - almost like a title. "So and so, the murderer." This title will forever linger. For this my heart is full of sorrow.
For the first time I feel true compassion toward someone who has committed such a vile and evil act. Never would I have expected this of him, that he would harm a person and leave that person on the ground, gasping at precious air for his own life. Never would I have imagined a rage to come from within him so deep that he could do such a thing. I'm appalled and yet deeply sad in ways I can barely articulate. There is not a word strong enough to wrap up in a neat descriptive package for you to understand. Grief has closed the depths of my mind so that my heart might begin to understand something greater.
Out of this circumstance God has burdened me with knowledge of His compassion toward us in our great state of depravity. To think that the Creator of the universe knows intimately our awful state and yet still loves us to such great heights that He might send Redemption...Oh how I marvel. And oh how I mourn. The Lord's is a heavy burden to try and comprehend, for I am merely human. I am created, not Creator. I alone cannot bear even a fragment of His work. And yet He has given me strength to understand - scarcely - His definition of compassion on us.
I challenge you to shift your paradigm - even slightly - to think from this place. We are depraved. We have either found redemption or have the opportunity to find redemption in the blood of Christ. The victim desperately needs to be rescued, but what of the perpetrator of evil? Does not their soul need saving? Does he not breathe as I? Does he not need food as I? Does he, deep in his soul, not crave mercy and love as I? Does he not need grace as I?
I believe he does.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Even More
There's a lot to say. Much has changed, all accredited to God. I love Him more than ever before and I'm confident this love will only continue to grow as the years progress. I asked my small group to write something - anything - to express why they cherish the sacrifice of Jesus in hopes that even if it's small now, the love and the reasons for the love would grow and abound in their hearts over the years. I can't help but put my example here. Imperfect in its hasty composition, but perfect in emotion and joy for all that it means to me.
The secret part of my soul
The secrets I speak of to no other soul
The wounds and sorrows
The ugliness of my self You know
I need not hide them
You lay them bare
And wipe them clean
You heal, redeem and restore
I love thee for thy Great Love
It wavers not
For You love all of me.
The outward life -
Life that is messy,
And human in desire and will
The one who burns with anger
Or weeps in sorrow
The one who sins
The careless hurt that seeps out
You call me loved
The mess is forgiven
I am a child, soothed and instructed
And disciplined in heart.
Your mercy resounds.
The war that rages on
You are sovereign over.
The sinful and painful desires
In the depths of my heart You claim
You make them over and over again
Until they are right with You
The sin disappears in light,
in sweet redemption
in the cleansing of blood
The simplest peace settles
It claims the battle and calls it done
And I rest in Your might.
The once messy child
Is not coddled, but cherished.
She is loved in her nature
And slowly reared in the Way
Grown up to love her Lord
Only by His patience and care
His devotion and grace pave her way to Him
She knows His voice and
Sees the gentle work of His hand
And smiles up at His face
As she sits at His feet
There is no other love here
All has disappeared
And a life destined for destruction,
now sanctified and consecrated
At ready to reveal the Glory of the King
The secret part of my soul
The secrets I speak of to no other soul
The wounds and sorrows
The ugliness of my self You know
I need not hide them
You lay them bare
And wipe them clean
You heal, redeem and restore
I love thee for thy Great Love
It wavers not
For You love all of me.
The outward life -
Life that is messy,
And human in desire and will
The one who burns with anger
Or weeps in sorrow
The one who sins
The careless hurt that seeps out
You call me loved
The mess is forgiven
I am a child, soothed and instructed
And disciplined in heart.
Your mercy resounds.
The war that rages on
You are sovereign over.
The sinful and painful desires
In the depths of my heart You claim
You make them over and over again
Until they are right with You
The sin disappears in light,
in sweet redemption
in the cleansing of blood
The simplest peace settles
It claims the battle and calls it done
And I rest in Your might.
The once messy child
Is not coddled, but cherished.
She is loved in her nature
And slowly reared in the Way
Grown up to love her Lord
Only by His patience and care
His devotion and grace pave her way to Him
She knows His voice and
Sees the gentle work of His hand
And smiles up at His face
As she sits at His feet
There is no other love here
All has disappeared
And a life destined for destruction,
now sanctified and consecrated
At ready to reveal the Glory of the King
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Curve of the Earth
I'm in a season where I appreciate being alone more than I ever have. I'm fine tuning how I spend my time. I am allowing myself time to get lost in my thoughts and turn those thoughts over to my Creator. I am listening.
All the while I feel trapped, stuck in a little eddy of life soon to be spat out further downstream on the next adventure. I'm trying to learn from the eddy.
Each day I focus on being content with where I am. Each day I think about faith and hope and wonder if I would have them if I were a Congolese woman. If I were enslaved in prostitution. If I were living a life in bondage. If I had less than I do. I wonder if my faith is superficial because my life is easy. I'd like to say that it isn't superficial, that my faith is an intrinsic part of my being. Maybe I'll find an answer to that question when I move to Central Africa (or India, or Indonesia, or Pakistan...). Or, maybe this is a time when God cultivates my soul and my heart and my character to be a steadfast and faithful servant to Him in the future.
Sometimes I feel wilted like a little flower that was deprived of water for a time, a flower that reaches for the sun in hopes of being revitalized to live as she were meant to.
And sometimes I feel like a heroine in the making.
Most of all, I feel human.
I wrote the following as I dreamt of a better tomorrow, as I prayed for my dear friend Marie-Claire in the Congo, as I allowed God to wash over my thoughts.
The Curve of the Earth
Every line, every arc
in focus, total clarity
complete mystery
imponderable strength
fear and questioning
deeper than the beat of a broken heart
still living, still moving
still pressing forth
a flower, reaching
slightly wilted
stretching beyond itself
gaining strength
from the warming sun
her hope rising
from the curve of the earth
as the days press forward
and her children
growing, learning
reminders of a blissful time
and anticipation for the better.
This photo I took in Santa Barbara. The little, slightly wilted jasmine flower just south of center and perfectly focused from stem to each petal was some source of inspiration for this piece. I look at this photo often. It takes me to another place in my heart, another adventure that exists within my own hope.
All the while I feel trapped, stuck in a little eddy of life soon to be spat out further downstream on the next adventure. I'm trying to learn from the eddy.
Each day I focus on being content with where I am. Each day I think about faith and hope and wonder if I would have them if I were a Congolese woman. If I were enslaved in prostitution. If I were living a life in bondage. If I had less than I do. I wonder if my faith is superficial because my life is easy. I'd like to say that it isn't superficial, that my faith is an intrinsic part of my being. Maybe I'll find an answer to that question when I move to Central Africa (or India, or Indonesia, or Pakistan...). Or, maybe this is a time when God cultivates my soul and my heart and my character to be a steadfast and faithful servant to Him in the future.
Sometimes I feel wilted like a little flower that was deprived of water for a time, a flower that reaches for the sun in hopes of being revitalized to live as she were meant to.
And sometimes I feel like a heroine in the making.
Most of all, I feel human.
I wrote the following as I dreamt of a better tomorrow, as I prayed for my dear friend Marie-Claire in the Congo, as I allowed God to wash over my thoughts.
The Curve of the Earth
Every line, every arc
in focus, total clarity
complete mystery
imponderable strength
fear and questioning
deeper than the beat of a broken heart
still living, still moving
still pressing forth
a flower, reaching
slightly wilted
stretching beyond itself
gaining strength
from the warming sun
her hope rising
from the curve of the earth
as the days press forward
and her children
growing, learning
reminders of a blissful time
and anticipation for the better.
This photo I took in Santa Barbara. The little, slightly wilted jasmine flower just south of center and perfectly focused from stem to each petal was some source of inspiration for this piece. I look at this photo often. It takes me to another place in my heart, another adventure that exists within my own hope.
Friday, June 18, 2010
And I call this place "shalom"
Today I made my way along a familiar, dusty road to a place my heart finds peace. I go there often when the sun has melted away the snow. I leave my phone and iPod behind. I bring only a pen, paper and my bible. Sometimes, if I'm lucky to have enough time to be there a while, I bring sustenance. This was a day I carried every one of those things in. Time. Journals. Bible. Pens and pencils. Fruit. Water. Whole grain crackers. I didn't expect much of an epiphany, for I went to listen and to let my mind rest from thoughts and worries. I went there for silence.
As I walked, I pretended not to see the signs that read, "Please stay on the trail. Help preserve the habitat." Today I was only one person in a world not crowded by trail riders, kayakers and tourists. I traversed deep into the reaches of the meadow where I could see only mountain grass, the towering and seemingly protective trees that line this small valley, the top of the lava flow that lies just beyond the western bank of the river - only a sliver of which I could see - and between the restless clouds the occasional snow-capped mountain.
It took me a while to adjust. Everything was quiet and undisturbed at first - until I was used to being alone. And then the ants and the bees and the creeping, crawling little bugs began to wage their curiosity upon me. It was almost as if they wanted to be friends. I gently brushed them aside until their interest abated. For a while I wrote and allowed my heart to meander in different directions.
And then, oh and then, I did what everyone should do and do often: I laid down and sunk my body deep into the grass. My entire being took in every single thing about this place that I love. The somewhat pungent smell of grass and dirt. The scent of the impossible to describe cleanliness of nature - which, in and of itself is revitalizing. My limbs tingled with joy. I grazed the backs of my hands on the countless blades of grass around me. I watched the clouds moving deliberately across the ever-blue sky above the meadow. I listened to the wind and its ever-changing moods: the roar through the mountains, the rushing above the trees, the breeze that blew just above me, tickling my nose and the tips of the grass. The wind left nothing untouched behind it. I wondered with the wind blowing as it was if I was threatened at all by the darkness of the clouds as the moved closer. I wondered if the dry dirt would soon accept a reprieve from the warm day.
I realized in that moment something about this place: it is rather paradoxical. The serenity and stillness apart from the noise of the world has the ability to take over one's soul and give one the ability to be silent...and yet it is teeming with life and movement which draws the deepest part of the soul awake in ways nothing else can. The best word to describe this place may well be shalom: completeness, peace. The way things were intended. I begin to wonder if anyone else has experienced it the way I do...I can only hope.
As I walked, I pretended not to see the signs that read, "Please stay on the trail. Help preserve the habitat." Today I was only one person in a world not crowded by trail riders, kayakers and tourists. I traversed deep into the reaches of the meadow where I could see only mountain grass, the towering and seemingly protective trees that line this small valley, the top of the lava flow that lies just beyond the western bank of the river - only a sliver of which I could see - and between the restless clouds the occasional snow-capped mountain.
It took me a while to adjust. Everything was quiet and undisturbed at first - until I was used to being alone. And then the ants and the bees and the creeping, crawling little bugs began to wage their curiosity upon me. It was almost as if they wanted to be friends. I gently brushed them aside until their interest abated. For a while I wrote and allowed my heart to meander in different directions.
And then, oh and then, I did what everyone should do and do often: I laid down and sunk my body deep into the grass. My entire being took in every single thing about this place that I love. The somewhat pungent smell of grass and dirt. The scent of the impossible to describe cleanliness of nature - which, in and of itself is revitalizing. My limbs tingled with joy. I grazed the backs of my hands on the countless blades of grass around me. I watched the clouds moving deliberately across the ever-blue sky above the meadow. I listened to the wind and its ever-changing moods: the roar through the mountains, the rushing above the trees, the breeze that blew just above me, tickling my nose and the tips of the grass. The wind left nothing untouched behind it. I wondered with the wind blowing as it was if I was threatened at all by the darkness of the clouds as the moved closer. I wondered if the dry dirt would soon accept a reprieve from the warm day.
I realized in that moment something about this place: it is rather paradoxical. The serenity and stillness apart from the noise of the world has the ability to take over one's soul and give one the ability to be silent...and yet it is teeming with life and movement which draws the deepest part of the soul awake in ways nothing else can. The best word to describe this place may well be shalom: completeness, peace. The way things were intended. I begin to wonder if anyone else has experienced it the way I do...I can only hope.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Just write something...
drowning.exhausted.challenged.hopeful.irritated.excited.antisocial.scared
it's not the has been. it's not the could be. it's not the could have been.
it's wonder. it's maturing. it's love. it's dreaming. it's difficult.
it is the heart beat.
it's wonder. it's maturing. it's love. it's dreaming. it's difficult.
it is the heart beat.
these words...if only I had a canvas and a brilliant set of oils...
The past few months have nearly slaughtered me. I'm content, yet ready to leave. I'm optimistic, yet scared. I'm being challenged in wild ways by the creator of the universe. I'm being challenged to stick to it, to persevere in what I know is right, in what I know I should do. Every day I must choose to be persistent through the hard stuff.
Honestly, I've taken a bit of a hiatus from writing. I've taken a break from art. I've taken a break to get my head back on straight. I'm learning the art of discipline. I'm learning the art of focus. I'm learning the art of investment (not the Wall Street kind). I'm learning to listen intentionally to God, not just yammer away toward heaven until I fall asleep.
I have nothing to say that would arrest you out of the quick skim you are taking of this blog. I have nothing to say that will enlighten you in a particular area of your life. I have nothing to say that will make this smattering of thoughts worthwhile. As well, I have made zero progress in any writing practice in the last month.
It's a combination of both the lack of discipline and inspiration to write that begs the question: what does God want me to say?
This my friends, is why I have been silent. And if I continue to be so, pray that it is a disciplined and intentional silence.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Worth
Worth: an essential and distinguishing attribute of something or someone.
Worth. How do you define worth? In yourself? In your life? In another human being?
Something in my life shifted - and I remember the exact moment - when I learned the invaluable lesson regarding the worth of another human being. Suddenly my life was no longer about me. Suddenly I realized I had to give some of my dreams away (trusting they would come back around somehow) in order to pursue the truth of this new understanding. I couldn't just sit back and allow life to happen, I couldn't just pursue my own goals, I now felt the excitement of helping pursue dreams that belonged to others, dreams I don't know, dreams that haven't even been birthed.
To those of you that were willing and able to participate in my last post, thank you. Whether you realize it or not, you have justice in you. You have love. You have decided that someone outside of yourself has worth. That is beautiful. Thank you, whoever you were, for the amazing help that you gave. It matters.
To those of you still seeking ways to get involved with something, here's a thought:
Recently I joined a program through Women for Women International which assists women in war-torn regions with financial aid, job training as well as educates her about her rights and her worth. I'm still waiting for her name (it takes about a month), but I'm already praying for her. A couple of rad things about this program for the sponsors:
1. You get to choose the country of the woman you sponsor. Maybe that seems a little superficial, but think of it this way: if you have a heart for women in Afghanistan, God has placed that specific compassion there for a reason. Through the specificity of this part of the program you have the opportunity to ACT on what God has begun in you. And really, if we all do justice for the sole reason of feeling like we SHOULD (and sometimes that is appropriate), the authenticity and beauty dissipates - or it is never there in the first place. There's something to be said for a calling on your heart. Think about that.
2. You have the ability to interact with her. It's an opportunity to cross oceans and cultural lines and many other barriers to tell her because of God you love and value her. You're able to show that through your financial support as well as in the time you take to write to her. Admittedly, this part makes me the most nervous. I'm going to write a letter to a woman in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Me. I will be writing her letters. A white, privileged woman who has never faced a tragedy even similar to hers...what in the world do I talk about? Well, that's something I am sure God has all worked out.
Check out the website and let it simmer...or just do it.
Happy Friday, friends.
Worth. How do you define worth? In yourself? In your life? In another human being?
Something in my life shifted - and I remember the exact moment - when I learned the invaluable lesson regarding the worth of another human being. Suddenly my life was no longer about me. Suddenly I realized I had to give some of my dreams away (trusting they would come back around somehow) in order to pursue the truth of this new understanding. I couldn't just sit back and allow life to happen, I couldn't just pursue my own goals, I now felt the excitement of helping pursue dreams that belonged to others, dreams I don't know, dreams that haven't even been birthed.
To those of you that were willing and able to participate in my last post, thank you. Whether you realize it or not, you have justice in you. You have love. You have decided that someone outside of yourself has worth. That is beautiful. Thank you, whoever you were, for the amazing help that you gave. It matters.
To those of you still seeking ways to get involved with something, here's a thought:
Recently I joined a program through Women for Women International which assists women in war-torn regions with financial aid, job training as well as educates her about her rights and her worth. I'm still waiting for her name (it takes about a month), but I'm already praying for her. A couple of rad things about this program for the sponsors:
1. You get to choose the country of the woman you sponsor. Maybe that seems a little superficial, but think of it this way: if you have a heart for women in Afghanistan, God has placed that specific compassion there for a reason. Through the specificity of this part of the program you have the opportunity to ACT on what God has begun in you. And really, if we all do justice for the sole reason of feeling like we SHOULD (and sometimes that is appropriate), the authenticity and beauty dissipates - or it is never there in the first place. There's something to be said for a calling on your heart. Think about that.
2. You have the ability to interact with her. It's an opportunity to cross oceans and cultural lines and many other barriers to tell her because of God you love and value her. You're able to show that through your financial support as well as in the time you take to write to her. Admittedly, this part makes me the most nervous. I'm going to write a letter to a woman in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Me. I will be writing her letters. A white, privileged woman who has never faced a tragedy even similar to hers...what in the world do I talk about? Well, that's something I am sure God has all worked out.
Check out the website and let it simmer...or just do it.
Happy Friday, friends.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
If you have the means...please help.
Hey all, just received this email from a friend who is headed to Congo Thursday to pick up their newly adopted son.
There is a collection bin at the Antioch Church offices until 2:00 PM today, April 7th. If you have additional baby formula or a few moments to drop by some spare cash you may have please do so.
376 SW Bluff Drive, Suite 8
Bend, OR 97702
----
I want to apologize for the short notice, but Kristen and I just got off the phone with our lawyer concerning our trip to the DRC this Thursday. Briefly, Kristen and I will be traveling to the DRC (Kinshasa) to pick up our newly adopted son, Bonheur, this week. Our lawyer informed us of a recent crisis within three orphanages that has just developed.
Apparently, there has been a recent formula shortage within Kinshasa, driving the price of formula up to astronomical prices. As a result, the infants of these orphanages are being fed with water and a spoonful of sugar. Many of the children are not expected to survive. Our itinerary is being altered so that we will be able to deliver formula and food bought at a local market to these three inter-city orphanages, one of which is solely for infants with AIDS.
If there is anything that could be done to get the word out to the Antioch body, it would be much appreciated. Kristen and I will be going to Costco this Wednesday to buy as much formula as our luggage will carry; any additional money will be spent at a local market in Kinshasa to buy food for the orphanages next week.
It is comforting to know that formula and money for basic food necessities will be in the hands of their caretakers within a week.
Cameron
There is a collection bin at the Antioch Church offices until 2:00 PM today, April 7th. If you have additional baby formula or a few moments to drop by some spare cash you may have please do so.
376 SW Bluff Drive, Suite 8
Bend, OR 97702
----
I want to apologize for the short notice, but Kristen and I just got off the phone with our lawyer concerning our trip to the DRC this Thursday. Briefly, Kristen and I will be traveling to the DRC (Kinshasa) to pick up our newly adopted son, Bonheur, this week. Our lawyer informed us of a recent crisis within three orphanages that has just developed.
Apparently, there has been a recent formula shortage within Kinshasa, driving the price of formula up to astronomical prices. As a result, the infants of these orphanages are being fed with water and a spoonful of sugar. Many of the children are not expected to survive. Our itinerary is being altered so that we will be able to deliver formula and food bought at a local market to these three inter-city orphanages, one of which is solely for infants with AIDS.
If there is anything that could be done to get the word out to the Antioch body, it would be much appreciated. Kristen and I will be going to Costco this Wednesday to buy as much formula as our luggage will carry; any additional money will be spent at a local market in Kinshasa to buy food for the orphanages next week.
It is comforting to know that formula and money for basic food necessities will be in the hands of their caretakers within a week.
Cameron
Saturday, April 3, 2010
flurry
something's amiss
it's simply out of order
even my fingers lay
listless on the keys
if they were to move
I worry they may be
brittle and crumble
for what's amiss
is deep in my soul
and that soul is
deeply connected
to every word that
escapes me no matter
the form, whether
spoken or written
or typed or sang
or whispered -
even thought of
I often feel lost in
who I want to be or who
I think I'm meant to be
and when lost I tend
to drift along hoping
for a flurry of the soul
for here I am
bewildered and left
to fend questions I
do not have answers to
and lost I find I'm
asked to hold a brave face
to appear indifferent
for emotion mixed with
confusion is surely
an uncommon taboo
and why oh why would
you possibly feel lost
in a world where you are
fortunate to have
access to anything simply
to make your dreams
come alive
and yet...
and yet I'm often lost
in who I want to be or who
I think I'm meant to be
and for now I'm out to see
if there's anything alive
inside of me and I will
drift along until I find
a flurry in my soul
that speaks deep truth
and love and justice
and mercy and understanding
and all of those things
our souls seem to gravitate
toward for somewhere
we must know truth
for it is built into the
unswerving beat of our hearts.
When I started school last fall I had just a smidgen of direction. I wondered how long it would take before things began narrowing into what I really felt like God wanted me to do with such a fancy little piece of paper. I'm sure as heck not doing it for the "oohs" and "ahhs" (or even the "what the heck does that degree even mean?"). I'm doing it because I'm passionate about justice. I'm passionate about doing justice through communication. I'm passionate about doing justice through my love of writing. That, I believe, is God's beautiful gift to me.
Of course through this season of discovering this passion of mine I feel a little part of me has died. Amidst the research I've been doing about injustice, the stories I've heard, the documentaries I've watched, and even reading some parts of the bible I've found my outlook on this world has dimmed. Honestly? It's probably for the best.
...But I miss the part of me that was unwaveringly optimistic. I miss the part of me that would wake up and never lack hope or faith in what this world could be (but never will be). That part of me, however, has been replaced with a firm belief that eventually, justice will be had. Eventually my life will have fulfilled a purpose greater than I can imagine - not because I want to be great, but because I want injustice to cease. I want justice for the woman who's been raped and birthed a child that will every.damn.day remind her of a horror she lives. I want justice for her child who will quite possibly be neglected and unloved for the sheer fact that he or she exists. I want justice for the little girl and woman that's beaten and drugged and "broken in" to become a prostitute and trafficked around the globe without even a glimmer of hope. I want justice for the slave. I want justice for the oppressed. These people have names and faces and horrific stories...somehow, some way, we must hear them and allow them resonate in our souls that we may do something to help.
No, I cannot fix everything. No, I may not be able to fix anything. Ever. That I understand. I cry for that. However, I will do what I can do and that is write, speak, educate, empower. I know now after a few months of even deeper searching and research that my field has narrowed - even slightly - to women. I don't know what that means. God does. I can rest in that. I also know that doing justice permeates the whole of my life. It is finishing a degree. It is writing. It is this silly, unknown little blog. It is the book I am writing. It is the research that I pour over and cry about. It is the daily goings on. It is drawing near to God.
A note of thanks to my big sister - the one that's known me the most consistently for the longest period of time in one particular place. Thank you for helping me see my soul and my heart in a beautiful, God-ordained way that I might have otherwise passed by. You are a gem (more than the server at the bar who poured us delicious beers...so much more). Love.
it's simply out of order
even my fingers lay
listless on the keys
if they were to move
I worry they may be
brittle and crumble
for what's amiss
is deep in my soul
and that soul is
deeply connected
to every word that
escapes me no matter
the form, whether
spoken or written
or typed or sang
or whispered -
even thought of
I often feel lost in
who I want to be or who
I think I'm meant to be
and when lost I tend
to drift along hoping
for a flurry of the soul
for here I am
bewildered and left
to fend questions I
do not have answers to
and lost I find I'm
asked to hold a brave face
to appear indifferent
for emotion mixed with
confusion is surely
an uncommon taboo
and why oh why would
you possibly feel lost
in a world where you are
fortunate to have
access to anything simply
to make your dreams
come alive
and yet...
and yet I'm often lost
in who I want to be or who
I think I'm meant to be
and for now I'm out to see
if there's anything alive
inside of me and I will
drift along until I find
a flurry in my soul
that speaks deep truth
and love and justice
and mercy and understanding
and all of those things
our souls seem to gravitate
toward for somewhere
we must know truth
for it is built into the
unswerving beat of our hearts.
When I started school last fall I had just a smidgen of direction. I wondered how long it would take before things began narrowing into what I really felt like God wanted me to do with such a fancy little piece of paper. I'm sure as heck not doing it for the "oohs" and "ahhs" (or even the "what the heck does that degree even mean?"). I'm doing it because I'm passionate about justice. I'm passionate about doing justice through communication. I'm passionate about doing justice through my love of writing. That, I believe, is God's beautiful gift to me.
Of course through this season of discovering this passion of mine I feel a little part of me has died. Amidst the research I've been doing about injustice, the stories I've heard, the documentaries I've watched, and even reading some parts of the bible I've found my outlook on this world has dimmed. Honestly? It's probably for the best.
...But I miss the part of me that was unwaveringly optimistic. I miss the part of me that would wake up and never lack hope or faith in what this world could be (but never will be). That part of me, however, has been replaced with a firm belief that eventually, justice will be had. Eventually my life will have fulfilled a purpose greater than I can imagine - not because I want to be great, but because I want injustice to cease. I want justice for the woman who's been raped and birthed a child that will every.damn.day remind her of a horror she lives. I want justice for her child who will quite possibly be neglected and unloved for the sheer fact that he or she exists. I want justice for the little girl and woman that's beaten and drugged and "broken in" to become a prostitute and trafficked around the globe without even a glimmer of hope. I want justice for the slave. I want justice for the oppressed. These people have names and faces and horrific stories...somehow, some way, we must hear them and allow them resonate in our souls that we may do something to help.
No, I cannot fix everything. No, I may not be able to fix anything. Ever. That I understand. I cry for that. However, I will do what I can do and that is write, speak, educate, empower. I know now after a few months of even deeper searching and research that my field has narrowed - even slightly - to women. I don't know what that means. God does. I can rest in that. I also know that doing justice permeates the whole of my life. It is finishing a degree. It is writing. It is this silly, unknown little blog. It is the book I am writing. It is the research that I pour over and cry about. It is the daily goings on. It is drawing near to God.
A note of thanks to my big sister - the one that's known me the most consistently for the longest period of time in one particular place. Thank you for helping me see my soul and my heart in a beautiful, God-ordained way that I might have otherwise passed by. You are a gem (more than the server at the bar who poured us delicious beers...so much more). Love.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Decisions, Redemption
"But to deviate from the truth for the sake of some prospect of hope of our own can never be wise, however slight that deviation may be. It is not our judgment of the situation which can show us what is wise, but only the truth of the Word of God. Here alone lies the promise of God's faithfulness and help. It will always be true that the wisest course for the disciple is always to abide solely by the Word of God in all simplicity." - Dietrich Bonhoeffer
To the outside world I've had a relatively carefree week. The winter term is over, spring break is here, exciting things are happening and I'm generally optimistic (as usual). Inwardly, however, I've been contemplative and reflective over the last couple of years of my life and where I'm headed now. It's just that time of year, I guess.
I'm making decisions for my life that are important; decisions that are heavy and include consequences - not necessarily bad - that I can actually foresee. I am making decisions much differently than I did when I was just a few years younger. Those years, apparently, add character (or something like that, right?). I'm moving to California next year. That's a big decision. I'm writing a book. That's a big decision. I'm doing things for me - not things society or family or friends or people expect me to do. Most importantly: I'm doing things for God, for the One I put my faith into.
I've come out of this state of fear and uncertainty with my faith into a place where every day I make a decision about it. Every day I choose to look deeper into God's heart for His people and trust He's got a bigger plan than I know. Every day I choose to believe the bible and the promises that God wrote into it. Every day I choose to serve Him and focus my thoughts toward Him. Every day I choose to see what He wants for me. Every day I choose to see the people around me as loved and out of that I try to be a light for God to them. I choose to offer the hope that I know. That's my choice. It's totally not easy. Some days I dislike these choices, but the beauty that my heart knows because of these choices is nothing I would trade. I'm starting to understand this "commitment" thing.
And because of this decision to choose God - although sometimes sporadically - I see my life becoming something it wasn't before. I see fruit of the mercy God graciously gave to me. I used to be broken. I used to make bad decisions without anticipating consequences as I should (and I'm sure I unwittingly still do). I see the beauty of my family and community in my life. I see the beauty of honesty and love through difficulties and the daily grind. I see, via my faith, things in my life that I intentionally direct toward God coming back to Him and the way He intended life to be - I see redemption.
To the outside world I've had a relatively carefree week. The winter term is over, spring break is here, exciting things are happening and I'm generally optimistic (as usual). Inwardly, however, I've been contemplative and reflective over the last couple of years of my life and where I'm headed now. It's just that time of year, I guess.
I'm making decisions for my life that are important; decisions that are heavy and include consequences - not necessarily bad - that I can actually foresee. I am making decisions much differently than I did when I was just a few years younger. Those years, apparently, add character (or something like that, right?). I'm moving to California next year. That's a big decision. I'm writing a book. That's a big decision. I'm doing things for me - not things society or family or friends or people expect me to do. Most importantly: I'm doing things for God, for the One I put my faith into.
I've come out of this state of fear and uncertainty with my faith into a place where every day I make a decision about it. Every day I choose to look deeper into God's heart for His people and trust He's got a bigger plan than I know. Every day I choose to believe the bible and the promises that God wrote into it. Every day I choose to serve Him and focus my thoughts toward Him. Every day I choose to see what He wants for me. Every day I choose to see the people around me as loved and out of that I try to be a light for God to them. I choose to offer the hope that I know. That's my choice. It's totally not easy. Some days I dislike these choices, but the beauty that my heart knows because of these choices is nothing I would trade. I'm starting to understand this "commitment" thing.
And because of this decision to choose God - although sometimes sporadically - I see my life becoming something it wasn't before. I see fruit of the mercy God graciously gave to me. I used to be broken. I used to make bad decisions without anticipating consequences as I should (and I'm sure I unwittingly still do). I see the beauty of my family and community in my life. I see the beauty of honesty and love through difficulties and the daily grind. I see, via my faith, things in my life that I intentionally direct toward God coming back to Him and the way He intended life to be - I see redemption.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Cutting Room Floor
I often feel I need the answers
to the deepest longings of my soul,
the unknown, the unknowable
I search them out as if they sit perched
on a lovely tree branch around the corner
just beyond the bend of the path
my feet happen to be walking upon
I often feel my heart beating to
escape the fortress so carefully built
to protect it during times of war
and this, my dear, is not a war
tis but a dance of life,
brimming with promise
and possibility and adventure
this my dear, is not a war
and vulnerability is not a crime
I often feel terrified of becoming
what I have been, something I once was
not to any true fault of my own
but a commodity, a thing for simple pleasure
it is not the way intended
but wouldn't it be beautiful
to shed that reasoning and simply be
I often feel the residue of cynicism
darkening my expectations of what could be -
the burns and the scars have not gone away
and I wonder if they ever will
and can I be free of or redeemed from
something that wounded the core of my being
so horribly and thoughtlessly
And yet I often feel hope
and I desire trust above all
to live a fulfilling, awe-inspiring life
that speaks of Greater things
that declares love and freedom
redemption and potential
that nothing we are is thrown carelessly
to the cutting room floor
to the deepest longings of my soul,
the unknown, the unknowable
I search them out as if they sit perched
on a lovely tree branch around the corner
just beyond the bend of the path
my feet happen to be walking upon
I often feel my heart beating to
escape the fortress so carefully built
to protect it during times of war
and this, my dear, is not a war
tis but a dance of life,
brimming with promise
and possibility and adventure
this my dear, is not a war
and vulnerability is not a crime
I often feel terrified of becoming
what I have been, something I once was
not to any true fault of my own
but a commodity, a thing for simple pleasure
it is not the way intended
but wouldn't it be beautiful
to shed that reasoning and simply be
I often feel the residue of cynicism
darkening my expectations of what could be -
the burns and the scars have not gone away
and I wonder if they ever will
and can I be free of or redeemed from
something that wounded the core of my being
so horribly and thoughtlessly
And yet I often feel hope
and I desire trust above all
to live a fulfilling, awe-inspiring life
that speaks of Greater things
that declares love and freedom
redemption and potential
that nothing we are is thrown carelessly
to the cutting room floor
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
A Remarkable Turn
My life has taken a sudden, remarkable turn.
A couple of days ago I hit my epiphany that set my heart at ease about a number of things: school, desires, where I am headed after school, etc. It set my heart at peace so much so that I was able to hear God telling me to move in a new and radical way. Before I delve into that I need to explain a little bit about my life pre-epiphany.
Things pre-epiphany were new and exciting. I was back in school, working hard, getting into a groove of studying and trying to balance the rest of my already settled life of friends, family and skiing. School was challenging - more so than I expected. The bible study I had started to lead was rocking my face off. And yet, somewhere below the surface I was not at rest. My writing was inhibited and I couldn't figure out why (though I'm grateful for that: in order to combat this writer's block I started some new habits and practices that are truly helping me refine my abilities). My "writer's block" was the biggest inclination, however, that something in my soul was amiss.
Last week I had two conversations two days apart with two people who live in different states. I admire these folks greatly and both of them - darn near verbatim - told me the same thing: if I'm to get a degree in Intercultural Communications I should think about transferring to a larger and more diverse school for my upper level courses. They proposed being in a small town has the potential to be toxic to my education. They were in no way saying that the profs here in Bend are under-qualified or that my degree wouldn't mean much from such a small school in a small town. Put simply: it would likely be a healthy change for me as a person to head to a bigger city to challenge me personally as well as in my education.
When things like these conversations repeat themselves I take notice. I would be hard-pressed to let this particular instance slip by. I requested information from a couple of schools within an 8 hour driving radius hoping first that I wouldn't have to go too far from home. I still wasn't convinced of leaving Bend. I always imagined I would finish school close to my family and friends and maybe even get married before leaving to find a job with an international relief organization. I love Bend. I love this community. You couldn't have talked me into leaving if you tried...
...until one fateful morning at Thump.
I was tootling around online looking at schools on the West Coast and I happened across the Pepperdine Universtiy website. As soon as I clicked on the page for the International/Intercultural Communications Studies program and skimmed through the description something deep in my soul clicked. The program in and of itself is positively astounding (as it should be for a school like Pepperdine). I realized in that moment I would be leaving Bend and I was excited.
Pepperdine is my first choice. There are a lot of unknowns at this point: finances, the date when I can transfer into the program (it will be Spring or Fall of 2011), if I am even accepted, etc. I have a handful of schools I will apply for as backup options (Westmont and Biola are a couple of them).
After this rather quick turn of events I sat down with yet another amazing friend of mine for dinner. We got on the topic of what I called my "writer's block" and the potential of that feeling being more than just, well, "writer's block". As we discussed this I realized it might have been instead an underlying dissatisfaction with certain aspects of life - things which I still cannot put my finger on - only one of which I know for certain.
There is, in this town, an identity which I cannot escape. I've tried with all of my might to make the switch from business owner and wedding gown designer to student, writer and future advocate. And yet week after week I encounter someone who will wonder "Why? Really - a writer?" or I'll get inquiry on top of inquiry for new clients or potential business partnerships. It's all that marketing - it's really starting to pay off! Ironic! ...burdensome.
It sounds ridiculous but it is exhausting trying to escape that identity. Yes, I loved my work. I loved silk and lace, I loved my clients who glowed with excitement, I loved putting together a business and watching the different aspects work together as a functioning whole, I loved all of it. Until, that is, I realized my deeper passion was for the oppressed and the potential for me to use my voice as a means to bring injustice to light.
So I find freedom in escaping this identity and moving forward in what I truly believe God has called me to. I find freedom in leaving.
A couple of days ago I hit my epiphany that set my heart at ease about a number of things: school, desires, where I am headed after school, etc. It set my heart at peace so much so that I was able to hear God telling me to move in a new and radical way. Before I delve into that I need to explain a little bit about my life pre-epiphany.
Things pre-epiphany were new and exciting. I was back in school, working hard, getting into a groove of studying and trying to balance the rest of my already settled life of friends, family and skiing. School was challenging - more so than I expected. The bible study I had started to lead was rocking my face off. And yet, somewhere below the surface I was not at rest. My writing was inhibited and I couldn't figure out why (though I'm grateful for that: in order to combat this writer's block I started some new habits and practices that are truly helping me refine my abilities). My "writer's block" was the biggest inclination, however, that something in my soul was amiss.
Last week I had two conversations two days apart with two people who live in different states. I admire these folks greatly and both of them - darn near verbatim - told me the same thing: if I'm to get a degree in Intercultural Communications I should think about transferring to a larger and more diverse school for my upper level courses. They proposed being in a small town has the potential to be toxic to my education. They were in no way saying that the profs here in Bend are under-qualified or that my degree wouldn't mean much from such a small school in a small town. Put simply: it would likely be a healthy change for me as a person to head to a bigger city to challenge me personally as well as in my education.
When things like these conversations repeat themselves I take notice. I would be hard-pressed to let this particular instance slip by. I requested information from a couple of schools within an 8 hour driving radius hoping first that I wouldn't have to go too far from home. I still wasn't convinced of leaving Bend. I always imagined I would finish school close to my family and friends and maybe even get married before leaving to find a job with an international relief organization. I love Bend. I love this community. You couldn't have talked me into leaving if you tried...
...until one fateful morning at Thump.
I was tootling around online looking at schools on the West Coast and I happened across the Pepperdine Universtiy website. As soon as I clicked on the page for the International/Intercultural Communications Studies program and skimmed through the description something deep in my soul clicked. The program in and of itself is positively astounding (as it should be for a school like Pepperdine). I realized in that moment I would be leaving Bend and I was excited.
Pepperdine is my first choice. There are a lot of unknowns at this point: finances, the date when I can transfer into the program (it will be Spring or Fall of 2011), if I am even accepted, etc. I have a handful of schools I will apply for as backup options (Westmont and Biola are a couple of them).
After this rather quick turn of events I sat down with yet another amazing friend of mine for dinner. We got on the topic of what I called my "writer's block" and the potential of that feeling being more than just, well, "writer's block". As we discussed this I realized it might have been instead an underlying dissatisfaction with certain aspects of life - things which I still cannot put my finger on - only one of which I know for certain.
There is, in this town, an identity which I cannot escape. I've tried with all of my might to make the switch from business owner and wedding gown designer to student, writer and future advocate. And yet week after week I encounter someone who will wonder "Why? Really - a writer?" or I'll get inquiry on top of inquiry for new clients or potential business partnerships. It's all that marketing - it's really starting to pay off! Ironic! ...burdensome.
It sounds ridiculous but it is exhausting trying to escape that identity. Yes, I loved my work. I loved silk and lace, I loved my clients who glowed with excitement, I loved putting together a business and watching the different aspects work together as a functioning whole, I loved all of it. Until, that is, I realized my deeper passion was for the oppressed and the potential for me to use my voice as a means to bring injustice to light.
So I find freedom in escaping this identity and moving forward in what I truly believe God has called me to. I find freedom in leaving.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Ephiphany
I came to a simple, beautiful epiphany yesterday - which shows you just how young I still am as a follower of Christ. I've been praying for one thing for 7 years and God has yet to answer me. I realized in my frustration over the past week that there's been a disconnect in this prayer over the years. I know I haven't truly surrendered this to God but I've been trying; I simply don't know what submission in this respect looks like. More often than not our relationship with God is not tangible or easy to peg - obviously.
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. -1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
That little phrase, "pray without ceasing" is something I haven't exactly practiced. Even this prayer of 7 years has been intermittent and lacking fervency. However, I realized as I was praying about this last night that the simple act of persistent prayer is about a continual "letting go" of the subject at hand and the discipline of the posture of my heart in the reality that God is the Creator and I am His created.
This was my beautiful epiphany which I will now begin to discipline myself in.
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. -1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
That little phrase, "pray without ceasing" is something I haven't exactly practiced. Even this prayer of 7 years has been intermittent and lacking fervency. However, I realized as I was praying about this last night that the simple act of persistent prayer is about a continual "letting go" of the subject at hand and the discipline of the posture of my heart in the reality that God is the Creator and I am His created.
This was my beautiful epiphany which I will now begin to discipline myself in.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thoughts on the Big Two Five
slow reflections coursing through my mind
joy
heartache
gladness
melodic enthusiasm beating through my heart
anticipation
anxiety
wonderment
a twinge of excitement embraces my toes
curiosity
destiny
adventure
faith that envelopes the three
gratitude
praise
life
Next week marks the big 25 for me. Whoopty-doo. It's just another year, really. As the years pass the markers get a little less exciting. I can vote, I can buy a pack o ciggies, I can fight for my country, I can drink a beer after work, and this year my car insurance gets a little less expensive and I can rent a car. Thrilling.
I genuinely love my birthday, though. It's a time I can guilt trip my friends and family into being with me and not feel guilty about it. It's a time that I use to look into their faces and see what a beautiful impact they've made on my life; I couldn't do it without them.
I'm grateful for where I am. I'm thankful for the mistakes and successes, the joys and the times of grief. I'm glad that God continues to show me more of Who He Is as He shows me His faithfulness. I'm pleased to say that adventures are always on the horizon, whether they are a life change such as school or a random night time ski trip with a friend. I'm excited to enjoy the years ahead as I learn to deeply love others in a way that pleases God. I'm scared of some aspects of the life God has marvelously planned out for me; I realize it will not be easy. Like C.S. Lewis said, "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be."
Pain has become something I fear less. Joy has become more difficult to grasp, but something deeply treasured and sought out. Life at any stage I admire with great intensity. Hearts lost in pain or filled with hope are the truth we live. Grace must abound, it was not created for us to simply receive. Human connection is poignant. Community is weighted more than gold. Success is not to be ours, but glory for God and service to Him. I regret nothing, instead I choose to be thankful for everything. I have yet to see certain dreams come to life, but I am not sad they seem to be delayed; I choose to wait in hopeful expectation.
Life has three beautiful parts: the has been, the will be, and the moments we choose how to fill now. I hope my heart continually remembers the importance of these.
joy
heartache
gladness
melodic enthusiasm beating through my heart
anticipation
anxiety
wonderment
a twinge of excitement embraces my toes
curiosity
destiny
adventure
faith that envelopes the three
gratitude
praise
life
Next week marks the big 25 for me. Whoopty-doo. It's just another year, really. As the years pass the markers get a little less exciting. I can vote, I can buy a pack o ciggies, I can fight for my country, I can drink a beer after work, and this year my car insurance gets a little less expensive and I can rent a car. Thrilling.
I genuinely love my birthday, though. It's a time I can guilt trip my friends and family into being with me and not feel guilty about it. It's a time that I use to look into their faces and see what a beautiful impact they've made on my life; I couldn't do it without them.
I'm grateful for where I am. I'm thankful for the mistakes and successes, the joys and the times of grief. I'm glad that God continues to show me more of Who He Is as He shows me His faithfulness. I'm pleased to say that adventures are always on the horizon, whether they are a life change such as school or a random night time ski trip with a friend. I'm excited to enjoy the years ahead as I learn to deeply love others in a way that pleases God. I'm scared of some aspects of the life God has marvelously planned out for me; I realize it will not be easy. Like C.S. Lewis said, "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be."
Pain has become something I fear less. Joy has become more difficult to grasp, but something deeply treasured and sought out. Life at any stage I admire with great intensity. Hearts lost in pain or filled with hope are the truth we live. Grace must abound, it was not created for us to simply receive. Human connection is poignant. Community is weighted more than gold. Success is not to be ours, but glory for God and service to Him. I regret nothing, instead I choose to be thankful for everything. I have yet to see certain dreams come to life, but I am not sad they seem to be delayed; I choose to wait in hopeful expectation.
Life has three beautiful parts: the has been, the will be, and the moments we choose how to fill now. I hope my heart continually remembers the importance of these.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Unending, really? Really.
I have been on this justice kick for a while now. I've been reading books, scouring the bible, and educating myself on current social justice issues around the globe. It is clear to me that God is a God of justice.
During this time I have found my prayers circling this basic thought process that God is someone to be reckoned with, that I am to strive with Him, pleading for justice and change and true love and truth to rise up amidst hopelessness and the terrors of our day. As much as persistent prayer is biblical, I felt like my prayers and my motives were lacking something. Something was missing somewhere on my radar and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
It wasn't until a conversation over a beer in a crowded restaurant the other night that it dawned on me via the insight and wisdom from a very dear friend. Carrie is one of the people in my life that shares this passion for social and biblical justice. And because she's been at this longer than I have I am thankful to the bottom of my heart to have her in my life to help guide me.
As we sipped on our beers, we were marveling at the sermons at church as of late and feeling grateful that truth is being spoken in regards to love and justice (see my last blog). As we talked, Carrie brought up a book that she had recently read and a point the author made that turned our conversation upside down for a bit.
The thought was this: unless you fully understand and set your foundation on how much God ACTUALLY loves YOU as an individual (through the gift of Christ's example and sacrifice), you cannot genuinely love others nor can you be effective in doing justice. At least not for very long.
This is not to say that those doing justice who do not know God cannot do any good, but those who do not rest on His foundation and purpose to know His love personally will not be able to last in fervor of service and pure motive. Their "cup" will run out because it is not being continually filled and nourished with God's love in order that love flows out of their life to properly "do justice, correct oppression, bring justice to the fatherless and plead the widow's cause". (And sorry to use such an overused "Christian-y" metaphor, it drives me nuts, but the "cup" makes sense.)
We (at least for Carrie and I) have always heard as we grew up in the church that if you love God, you must love others. But it seems natural and biblical that we should know He first loved us. Unless we know with full assurance and seek out how much God loves us, where will our motives come from? And how quickly will our perseverance run out if we are not resting on that love?
This is hard for me to grasp in some ways because I see many American Christians who take, take, take, receive, receive, receive, and horde, horde, horde. It seems it's therapeutic to be a Christian for so many. It fulfills this surface need to believe in something, gives us hope, forgives our sins and makes us feel like we're a better person for being "religious" or by having "faith". However, in this need to fulfill self we have forgotten to turn around and genuinely give the grace so lavished upon us to our fellow man in need (whether it is spiritual or physical). When I began to notice what was happening around me I felt my own heart go to the extreme of give, give, give. Give your heart, your life, your excess, give out of no excess by faith...and I forgot to continue truly receiving God's love as my source and ability to give and do justice. I felt guilty (and I kid you not) for reading Psalms as a means to draw closer to God. It may sound asinine, but it's true.
A matter of months ago I began to feel guilty for accepting this love and for feeling so good about God's grace and love toward me when I constantly have thoughts in the back of my mind about injustice and the suffering of others in this world. However, it seems I went to the other extreme, one which would lead me down a dead end road of complete exhaustion and more than likely bitterness and hopelessness.
It seems to me that my prayers will shift in content and direction just a few degrees now. The time I spend reading the bible will begin to contain a little bit more reading so that I begin to seek God's love not only for others, but also for my own heart. Because God's love is unending, and that is the foundation upon which I need to stand.
During this time I have found my prayers circling this basic thought process that God is someone to be reckoned with, that I am to strive with Him, pleading for justice and change and true love and truth to rise up amidst hopelessness and the terrors of our day. As much as persistent prayer is biblical, I felt like my prayers and my motives were lacking something. Something was missing somewhere on my radar and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
It wasn't until a conversation over a beer in a crowded restaurant the other night that it dawned on me via the insight and wisdom from a very dear friend. Carrie is one of the people in my life that shares this passion for social and biblical justice. And because she's been at this longer than I have I am thankful to the bottom of my heart to have her in my life to help guide me.
As we sipped on our beers, we were marveling at the sermons at church as of late and feeling grateful that truth is being spoken in regards to love and justice (see my last blog). As we talked, Carrie brought up a book that she had recently read and a point the author made that turned our conversation upside down for a bit.
The thought was this: unless you fully understand and set your foundation on how much God ACTUALLY loves YOU as an individual (through the gift of Christ's example and sacrifice), you cannot genuinely love others nor can you be effective in doing justice. At least not for very long.
This is not to say that those doing justice who do not know God cannot do any good, but those who do not rest on His foundation and purpose to know His love personally will not be able to last in fervor of service and pure motive. Their "cup" will run out because it is not being continually filled and nourished with God's love in order that love flows out of their life to properly "do justice, correct oppression, bring justice to the fatherless and plead the widow's cause". (And sorry to use such an overused "Christian-y" metaphor, it drives me nuts, but the "cup" makes sense.)
We (at least for Carrie and I) have always heard as we grew up in the church that if you love God, you must love others. But it seems natural and biblical that we should know He first loved us. Unless we know with full assurance and seek out how much God loves us, where will our motives come from? And how quickly will our perseverance run out if we are not resting on that love?
This is hard for me to grasp in some ways because I see many American Christians who take, take, take, receive, receive, receive, and horde, horde, horde. It seems it's therapeutic to be a Christian for so many. It fulfills this surface need to believe in something, gives us hope, forgives our sins and makes us feel like we're a better person for being "religious" or by having "faith". However, in this need to fulfill self we have forgotten to turn around and genuinely give the grace so lavished upon us to our fellow man in need (whether it is spiritual or physical). When I began to notice what was happening around me I felt my own heart go to the extreme of give, give, give. Give your heart, your life, your excess, give out of no excess by faith...and I forgot to continue truly receiving God's love as my source and ability to give and do justice. I felt guilty (and I kid you not) for reading Psalms as a means to draw closer to God. It may sound asinine, but it's true.
A matter of months ago I began to feel guilty for accepting this love and for feeling so good about God's grace and love toward me when I constantly have thoughts in the back of my mind about injustice and the suffering of others in this world. However, it seems I went to the other extreme, one which would lead me down a dead end road of complete exhaustion and more than likely bitterness and hopelessness.
It seems to me that my prayers will shift in content and direction just a few degrees now. The time I spend reading the bible will begin to contain a little bit more reading so that I begin to seek God's love not only for others, but also for my own heart. Because God's love is unending, and that is the foundation upon which I need to stand.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
The Spirit of Life
I have been processing and contemplating numerous things these past few weeks. Jesus-Love. Dangerous living. Sacrifice. Right and wrong religion. Justice. Love. Heartache. Social norms and expectations. Coffee. (OK, maybe not coffee, but because I'm sipping coffee at this moment, I figured I'd throw it in there.)
Since my announcement to close the doors on my company I've felt free. Free to pursue what I feel is the absolute passion that lies in the deepest part of my soul. My direction and efforts no longer feel like a means to an end. I haven't been able to fall asleep at night because my mind is racing excitedly about the adventure that lies ahead. I think about advocacy, and justice, and Jesus, and love, and what in the world should love look like? What does God want those things to look like (in my life, in the church)? Who is the real Jesus? I'm talking about the one in the bible, not the one the recent culture of the American "church" has made Him out to be (because for the most part we've done a terrible job at knowing Him and following His example).
Last week I listened to this sermon (entitled: Love as Dogma, November 22, 2009 - um, as well as the week prior by Ed Underwood, amazing), and I simply burned with passion. Tears flowed uncontrollably out of my eyes because we, the church, have lost sight of the beauty of Jesus and His humble example for us. We don't know who He is anymore. We don't know how to follow Him anymore because tradition and our own desires and comfort have gotten in the way. That breaks my heart; I walk around with a nearly consuming sadness inside of me because of that. Really, there are no words to describe it to you properly. I challenge you to take the time and listen to that message.
"Love as Dogma" was yet another defining moment in my pursuit of justice and how I will be able to make an impact in this world for the glory of God. I realized that my life may not consist of being a full time missionary overseas. I still envision my life being dangerous. I still envision going to the places that nobody else wants to go. I still long to meet and love on and provide for those that most everybody else has forgotten about. I want to ask the hard questions in search for the difficult answers. And most importantly, I want to carry their voices to the place that they are scarcely heard: to the United States. That is my passion. I beg you to seek for yours if you haven't found it already.
My heart longs for us to take Jesus for who He actually is and to live love and justice. I want us to question why it is we go to church every day in order that we may actually be the buzz word of our generation: authentic. I want us to question the hurt in this world and to not be overwhelmed at the answer: that we are a part of the problem, and that we can also be a part of the solution. I want us to not be overwhelmed and to simply realize that we, each and every one of us, are created to do something related to biblical justice: whether it is in our immediate sphere of influence and our community, or if it is a radical life comparable to of one of the greats that went before us (Locke, Gandhi, Mandela...).
Let us take courage. Let us ask the hard questions. Let us follow our passions with great fervor. Let us live like we believe our convictions, and let us live that in real love, in Jesus-love.
Since my announcement to close the doors on my company I've felt free. Free to pursue what I feel is the absolute passion that lies in the deepest part of my soul. My direction and efforts no longer feel like a means to an end. I haven't been able to fall asleep at night because my mind is racing excitedly about the adventure that lies ahead. I think about advocacy, and justice, and Jesus, and love, and what in the world should love look like? What does God want those things to look like (in my life, in the church)? Who is the real Jesus? I'm talking about the one in the bible, not the one the recent culture of the American "church" has made Him out to be (because for the most part we've done a terrible job at knowing Him and following His example).
Last week I listened to this sermon (entitled: Love as Dogma, November 22, 2009 - um, as well as the week prior by Ed Underwood, amazing), and I simply burned with passion. Tears flowed uncontrollably out of my eyes because we, the church, have lost sight of the beauty of Jesus and His humble example for us. We don't know who He is anymore. We don't know how to follow Him anymore because tradition and our own desires and comfort have gotten in the way. That breaks my heart; I walk around with a nearly consuming sadness inside of me because of that. Really, there are no words to describe it to you properly. I challenge you to take the time and listen to that message.
"Love as Dogma" was yet another defining moment in my pursuit of justice and how I will be able to make an impact in this world for the glory of God. I realized that my life may not consist of being a full time missionary overseas. I still envision my life being dangerous. I still envision going to the places that nobody else wants to go. I still long to meet and love on and provide for those that most everybody else has forgotten about. I want to ask the hard questions in search for the difficult answers. And most importantly, I want to carry their voices to the place that they are scarcely heard: to the United States. That is my passion. I beg you to seek for yours if you haven't found it already.
My heart longs for us to take Jesus for who He actually is and to live love and justice. I want us to question why it is we go to church every day in order that we may actually be the buzz word of our generation: authentic. I want us to question the hurt in this world and to not be overwhelmed at the answer: that we are a part of the problem, and that we can also be a part of the solution. I want us to not be overwhelmed and to simply realize that we, each and every one of us, are created to do something related to biblical justice: whether it is in our immediate sphere of influence and our community, or if it is a radical life comparable to of one of the greats that went before us (Locke, Gandhi, Mandela...).
Let us take courage. Let us ask the hard questions. Let us follow our passions with great fervor. Let us live like we believe our convictions, and let us live that in real love, in Jesus-love.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Oh so sweet :)
I don't know if it is completely nerd-like of me to be stoked about this or not...but a friend of mine was sweet enough to pass on a little bloggy award! Thanks for the love, Lindsay!
Here are the rules that come with the Superior Scribbler award....
1. Each Superior Scribbler that I name today must pass the award on to 5 most-deserving bloggy friends.
2. Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author and the name of the blog from whom she/he has received the award.
3. Each Superior Scribbler must display the award on her blog, and link to this post, which explains the award.
4. Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit This Post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!
5. Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.
To those that inspire me with their hearts and words, and consistently give me goosebumps (which, by the way, is a good thing!):
Kelly's Blog (I'll link it once I receive permission!)
http://girlfullyalive.blogspot.com/
http://whereherfeetland.blogspot.com/
http://diamondsonhersoles.blogspot.com/
http://relevantdisciple.blogspot.com/ (<-- way to be, Pratt, for being the only dude I know who keeps a blog!)
My thought of the day:
Ponder for a moment how you might fight fatigue in doing good. For instance, maybe we're really nice or helpful to others for a time, and sooner or later we tire of it and continue on about our lives. Does that make sense? Makes your head hurt a little bit, huh? Then maybe, just maybe, it's something you should be thinking about more often. Maybe we should continually strive to do good in this world with authentic acts of kindness and love WITHOUT ulterior motives of any kind...can you even fathom what this world would look like? Yeah, me neither. But we can try to do good. How about you and me, right here, right now, make an effort for our fellow man. Whatever your gifting is, whatever you are good at, use that to help someone or improve their day. Don't try to do something because so-and-so did and that made a difference. We're created unique for a reason (I'll let you ponder my underlying meaning in that and maybe someday soon I'll blog about that, too).
I'll share with you my little bits that I've tried this week:
1. I like to smile. A LOT. So of course I began genuinely smiling at strangers. I'm talking at least two seconds of eye contact and a "hello" or "good afternoon". Ok, that sounds so frickin' cheesy it's not even funny. But it makes you feel good. And sometimes you get a funny response like I did yesterday, this lady just looked at me like I was nuts for the first second of eye contact, and then broke out of her "zone" and smiled back, genuinely. I hope it brightened her day.
2. Writing meaningful letters or emails to friends and family to encourage them.
I don't tell you these things because I want to toot my horn. Not at all. I'm just expressing my belief that even the tiniest acts of kindness matter. You may not be in war zones saving lives (thank you, Veterans) or a missionary in a jungle working as a doctor, or fighting injustice in our legal system...but leading an authentic life of love and kindness is a beautiful thing. And that in and of itself will leave a lasting mark on this earth.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Exhale of Joy
Do you ever wake up from a night of silent, dreamless sleep, and there's nothing you can do except smile as you prepare for the day? You feel an overwhelming sense of peace, a rightness in the world that scarcely makes itself known, a silent rhythm of perseverance.
I had that morning. It lingers. I am exhaling joy.
Granted, there is a story behind this that begs telling.
Justice has been served. In a world teeming with corruption and malice where horrific acts take place more often than we care to ponder; one case of injustice will be set right, at least in the eyes of the law. Words can scarcely make an appeal to my elation. A little girl and her brother will (hopefully) never again be molested. They now have the chance to heal, to make a clean break, and I pray to God that they are given the fullness of that opportunity. Innocence was ripped away without permission and smothered as if it didn't matter. It was concealed and denied. And now the oppressor faces his due punishment, for that I am thankful.
So much is affected by injustice. There is so much to consider. Injustice is not only an act, it is not only a series of: injustice, investigation, justice served. Injustice lingers. It follows lives to their end like a black cloud and sometimes lingers over the following generation of those originally affected. This breaks my heart more than I can elude to on a blog. I simply cannot begin to try.
And when I cannot find the words to speak, to tell a story, I will pen a poem in hopes that some expression will come from my heart that sends the message I intend.
Magnificent is the beat of the heart of Justice
Riding in stronger than the armies of old
Wielding a sharper sword and farther reaching weapons
Than any injustice could imagine
As they creep and hide and commit their crimes
Denying and conspiring that Justice is not great enough
In the darkest corners it ruins and smothers and sabotages
Innocence and rights are laid waste
and left to suffer silently, endlessly, without hope
Until Justice makes a fool of its powerless enemy
By lighting the concealed atrocities and
Ripping apart the haughty enemy
To give due diligence and freedom
healing and hope
to the victims and to the wounded
To sound the song of victory
Making known the all-consuming power
of Justice at its best
A foretelling that injustice will never have the last word
And this time injustice has not seen impunity
It will not be the last
For Justice rides on in triumph
I had that morning. It lingers. I am exhaling joy.
Granted, there is a story behind this that begs telling.
Justice has been served. In a world teeming with corruption and malice where horrific acts take place more often than we care to ponder; one case of injustice will be set right, at least in the eyes of the law. Words can scarcely make an appeal to my elation. A little girl and her brother will (hopefully) never again be molested. They now have the chance to heal, to make a clean break, and I pray to God that they are given the fullness of that opportunity. Innocence was ripped away without permission and smothered as if it didn't matter. It was concealed and denied. And now the oppressor faces his due punishment, for that I am thankful.
So much is affected by injustice. There is so much to consider. Injustice is not only an act, it is not only a series of: injustice, investigation, justice served. Injustice lingers. It follows lives to their end like a black cloud and sometimes lingers over the following generation of those originally affected. This breaks my heart more than I can elude to on a blog. I simply cannot begin to try.
And when I cannot find the words to speak, to tell a story, I will pen a poem in hopes that some expression will come from my heart that sends the message I intend.
Magnificent is the beat of the heart of Justice
Riding in stronger than the armies of old
Wielding a sharper sword and farther reaching weapons
Than any injustice could imagine
As they creep and hide and commit their crimes
Denying and conspiring that Justice is not great enough
In the darkest corners it ruins and smothers and sabotages
Innocence and rights are laid waste
and left to suffer silently, endlessly, without hope
Until Justice makes a fool of its powerless enemy
By lighting the concealed atrocities and
Ripping apart the haughty enemy
To give due diligence and freedom
healing and hope
to the victims and to the wounded
To sound the song of victory
Making known the all-consuming power
of Justice at its best
A foretelling that injustice will never have the last word
And this time injustice has not seen impunity
It will not be the last
For Justice rides on in triumph
Friday, October 30, 2009
Expressions of passion
I often find myself going through artistic phases: I draw, I sew, I turn old things into new, and sometimes, but more often than not I find myself writing. I have a countless number of journals, four of which I write in consistently (each journal has its very own purpose, of course). The pen to paper is to me romantic, whimsical, meaningful, beautiful and almost forgotten in this era.
I have found myself falling deeper into a love affair with written (even, spoken) expression. To my mom that is no shocker. For as long as I can remember, she’s loved reading my papers in school, the blogs that I now write and everything else that fell in between. For me, I never really noticed how much I loved writing. It is simply a part of who I am. And then I realized it’s a part of who I am. It seems the realization was something I desperately needed.
Admittedly, I am not a very practiced writer, nor do I feel I always have something important to say. There are many times where words are not necessary; the silence, a soft touch or a look might be all the communication that is needed in a moment. However, I have found that there are many, many words that need to be said. There are millions of people every day who do not get to say or write or express what needs to be communicated. Their voices are smothered and silenced. These are the voices of the oppressed. The enslaved. The persecuted. The tortured. The forgotten. I’ve discovered that more important to me than any silk, any beautiful design, any poem is this raging passion to speak for those who do not have the chance.
In order to cultivate this passion (seeing as “cultivate” is the buzzword on this blog) I am headed back to school. This is kind of a hand in hand announcement, I suppose, because this also means I’ll be closing up shop. That’s right, I’m bidding adieu to Ania Designs (and silk, and marketing, and business, and lace…). I have come to realize that when you take time to discover your passion, what truly makes your heart beat, what really sends the blood coursing through your veins, you must take time to cultivate and follow that passion.
Here is a poem I wrote a few weeks ago. I was having a stunning conversation with a friend of mine about love and risk, and even though that was the subject matter in mind when writing, somehow it seems this string of words may fit a number of scenarios. I hope you enjoy.
Life seems to be shades of grey
Seemingly imperfect visions of
What is or is to come
The warmest sun
The coldest wind
Are reminders of truth and reality
Amidst the confusion
As life gives nothing we expect
But all that we hope for
It’s all greyscale
And struggling to find the eye
In the ever pressing storm
The yes and the no
And into the water are only my toes
When deep inside my heart
It screams I should simply jump in
To the dark, the depths, the unknown
That I might explore and taste
Only the most beautiful adventure to be had
A complete surrender and lack of fear
To immerse my life in love and sacrifice
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Oh Honesty...
Honesty is the best policy. Tell me you haven't heard that before and I won't believe you. :) It's practically the grade school motto in this country. Somewhere deep inside me I find that it's more than just needing to hear the real truth from someone, more than just being a good citizen, more than just a phrase, more than just honesty and communication in relationships... I find that honesty in the fullness of life is an important thing.
This is why I blog. This is why I drink countless cups of coffee with friends and strangers (who, in turn, become new friends, of course!). This is why I share my heart and beg of others to do the same. I replied to someone's comment on one of my poems a while back with this:
"I see the heart as useless if we do not share it and give others the opportunity to experience who we really are. And by that, experience Christ through us."
This is why I don't cut corners of truth when I'm writing. I feel if you don't see all sides of me (even the far-out-left-field sarcasm and humor I tend to spew out without warning, the moments of ugly and sadness, or the confusion I might be in...) you won't see a real person. You'd see this ridiculously happy, always content and smiling, fake person who "really loves God". And you would despise me.
I don't want fake. I want real. I desire to be real. So when I say what I'm about to, well, you'll know that I'm not lacing my writing with falsehood. And maybe, just maybe, you'll see a little bit of God shining through. Let's see what happens, shall we?
Let's start with the positive, because that's just who I am when it comes down to it. I am stoked out of my mind to start school. I'm so freaking excited I can barely wait until Christmas is over. That's creepy, seeing as that's wishing away a good 3-4 weeks of ski season and because I hate how fast the holidays go every year. I know this little turn of events is something God has been directing me toward, and it excites me to have direction and a long-term commitment ahead of me. (To me, commitment is terrifying at best - so this "four year thing" is a big challenge!) I've spent the past two years unsure of what God wanted of my life, but I have been seeking it as passionately as possible fighting the urge to run at almost every turn. And now I have school to help me continue on a more specific direction toward purpose. It's rather thrilling.
HOWEVER...
I was sipping coffee and reading a blog of a lovely sister/stranger/acquaintance who happens to be serving in Africa this very moment and...well...I cried. Admittedly, her most recent post was tragic and deeply sad, however I felt this other kind of hole inside of my heart. This feeling of, "UGH, WHY THE HECK AM I NOT IN AFRICA?!" I wanted to beat my fists on the floor and let the hot tears take over. I wished and wished I could simply transport myself into the heart of Africa and stay there forever to serve and give my life away and forget about anything our own society tells us is important. My heart is racing because I'm upset. I'm sad that I cannot go right now. I actually mourn the fact that God wants me to do something else right now, even though that something else is exciting to me.
I suppose the only thing I have left to do is wait. I need to allow God to work through what I feel is this funneling of my entire being into something more exquisite than I can imagine. I can only suspect that if you love God, He does that to you, too. It's what my pastor said to me about a week ago: it's a period of delayed gratification. That if only I trust God and believe He is doing what He says He will do, it will be more astounding and fulfilling than I can ever hope. Those are some high stakes, folks. I simply have to wait and hope and trust in Him. And that is what I'm hoping and praying to actually make it through without trying to manipulate things and take control to do it the way I want. Because in the end, I want to glorify God. I want Him to use my life in a way that reflects Him and brings Him praise. No matter if I like it or not at the time (or both of those, in this particular case).
Our Father in Heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name,
Thy Kingdom come,
Thy will be done,
on earth as it is in Heaven
Give us this day our daily bread
and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil
for Thine is the Kingdom, and the power, and the glory,
forever and ever, amen.
This is why I blog. This is why I drink countless cups of coffee with friends and strangers (who, in turn, become new friends, of course!). This is why I share my heart and beg of others to do the same. I replied to someone's comment on one of my poems a while back with this:
"I see the heart as useless if we do not share it and give others the opportunity to experience who we really are. And by that, experience Christ through us."
This is why I don't cut corners of truth when I'm writing. I feel if you don't see all sides of me (even the far-out-left-field sarcasm and humor I tend to spew out without warning, the moments of ugly and sadness, or the confusion I might be in...) you won't see a real person. You'd see this ridiculously happy, always content and smiling, fake person who "really loves God". And you would despise me.
I don't want fake. I want real. I desire to be real. So when I say what I'm about to, well, you'll know that I'm not lacing my writing with falsehood. And maybe, just maybe, you'll see a little bit of God shining through. Let's see what happens, shall we?
Let's start with the positive, because that's just who I am when it comes down to it. I am stoked out of my mind to start school. I'm so freaking excited I can barely wait until Christmas is over. That's creepy, seeing as that's wishing away a good 3-4 weeks of ski season and because I hate how fast the holidays go every year. I know this little turn of events is something God has been directing me toward, and it excites me to have direction and a long-term commitment ahead of me. (To me, commitment is terrifying at best - so this "four year thing" is a big challenge!) I've spent the past two years unsure of what God wanted of my life, but I have been seeking it as passionately as possible fighting the urge to run at almost every turn. And now I have school to help me continue on a more specific direction toward purpose. It's rather thrilling.
HOWEVER...
I was sipping coffee and reading a blog of a lovely sister/stranger/acquaintance who happens to be serving in Africa this very moment and...well...I cried. Admittedly, her most recent post was tragic and deeply sad, however I felt this other kind of hole inside of my heart. This feeling of, "UGH, WHY THE HECK AM I NOT IN AFRICA?!" I wanted to beat my fists on the floor and let the hot tears take over. I wished and wished I could simply transport myself into the heart of Africa and stay there forever to serve and give my life away and forget about anything our own society tells us is important. My heart is racing because I'm upset. I'm sad that I cannot go right now. I actually mourn the fact that God wants me to do something else right now, even though that something else is exciting to me.
I suppose the only thing I have left to do is wait. I need to allow God to work through what I feel is this funneling of my entire being into something more exquisite than I can imagine. I can only suspect that if you love God, He does that to you, too. It's what my pastor said to me about a week ago: it's a period of delayed gratification. That if only I trust God and believe He is doing what He says He will do, it will be more astounding and fulfilling than I can ever hope. Those are some high stakes, folks. I simply have to wait and hope and trust in Him. And that is what I'm hoping and praying to actually make it through without trying to manipulate things and take control to do it the way I want. Because in the end, I want to glorify God. I want Him to use my life in a way that reflects Him and brings Him praise. No matter if I like it or not at the time (or both of those, in this particular case).
Our Father in Heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name,
Thy Kingdom come,
Thy will be done,
on earth as it is in Heaven
Give us this day our daily bread
and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil
for Thine is the Kingdom, and the power, and the glory,
forever and ever, amen.
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