Contemplations over ice packs and injuries

It's amazing how something as small as slipping and falling can mess up a whole afternoon. Or so it would seem. I re-pulled a muscle today that I pulled last month and it sent me into a fit of tears. But I was crying about a lot more than a bruised leg.
This past month has been an amazing month of the Holy Spirit's work in my life. He has been tearing down walls in my heart, opening up my spiritual eyes, and bringing me to the foot of the cross over and over and over again. As I've been growing in leaps and bounds, I've also been faced with struggles that keep appearing in leaps and bounds. Today, as I sat on the floor crying over my silly injury, my heart jumped at the chance to cry over all of the other things that were buried in there.
Yet, after all those tears, the only thing I can say is this: God is a God of faithfulness, even amidst struggle (especially amidst struggle!). He is faithful to keep His promises. As I've drawn close to Him over the past few months, He's given me a lot of promises and revealed a lot of truths to me. It has been a huge exercise in trust for me to stand on these promises. As I lay with an ice pack and a large amount of pillows under my leg, I kept thinking of all things that I'm struggling to believe God for. Doubts kept screaming at my mind, "Can God really love you that much? Will He really come through? Surely not. Why would He do that for you? Why would He actually care for you?"
The only answer I could find was the one thing that I've been standing on (albeit somewhat shakily, I admit). Time and time again, I find myself coming back to the simplest, most elementary--yet the most revolutionary--truth. God is love. And He loves me.
If I believe that God truly loves me then all of my fears are invalidated. Every. Single. One. As 1 John 4:18 says, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love."
He loves me, therefore He will do what's best for me. He loves me, therefore He will keep His promises. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.
1 John 4:10 "This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins."
I think that I just need to sit and chew on that for a very long time. It sounds like the perfect accompaniment to a blanket, a large amount of pillows and perhaps...an ice pack.

Paradoxical Thoughts

Sometimes I think it’s funny the way the kingdom of God works. It’s like this whole backwards set up—a system of paradoxes, if I may. Tonight, as I was lying in bed trying to go to sleep, my head was spinning with these paradoxical thoughts.
I had just gotten back from Westside and was contentedly ready for bed. Wednesdays are Oneighty JV nights. I love Wednesdays. I love my group of fifth and sixth grade girls; I’m so excited about building relationships with them and the things we’ll be able to do together. And yet, it’s bittersweet for me. If things go according to plan, come January, I’ll be halfway across the country. So I’m building these amazing relationships with these girls only to up and leave. It’s the same with a lot of other things in my life, as well. I started this awesome job, but with the intent of only being there two months; I’m super connected in a community group that I absolutely adore; I have a play that could possibly be produced if I stayed; and I’m living with some incredible roommates in a super cute house. And now…I’m leaving. At least, I think I am.
Usually I’m dying to get out of Bend. I’m ready to leave at the drop of a hat and hop on the first plane that calls my name. But this time…it’s different. I feel, I don’t know, rooted. Not just like I’ve grown up here, but like I belong. This is kind of a first for me. I’m usually restless and unsettled after being in one place so long. Contentment is an unfamiliar feeling.
As I was lying in bed pondering this, I asked the Lord what on earth He was doing and why He would be sending me away now. This thought came to mind, “because this time it costs something.” I knew immediately what He meant. For the first time, my motivation for leaving wouldn’t be to escape, because I don’t want or need to escape. In fact, it’s almost the other way around. This time, leaving would cost me. Before, my motivation was for my own pleasure and agenda. Now, it’s obedience. And obedience costs—it doesn’t mean much if there’s no sacrifice involved.
This is just another of those great paradoxes of the kingdom of God. When you finally give up your dream(s), God answers. I don’t know for certain that I’ll actually bid Bend farewell come January. But I do know this, I’m willing to obey. Leave or stay, I’m surrendered. And you know what? That’s the best place to be.

When God Says "No"

Being the highly privileged (okay spoiled) American Christian that I am, I have this tendency to think that the world revolves around me. After all, I’m God’s kid right? My needs. My wants. My passions. They are of utmost importance. However, you might be surprised (as was I!) to find that this is not actually the case (shocker, right?).
This mentality has led me to (I’m ashamed to say) treat God as my own personal magic maker.
“Dear God. I want this, this, and this. Please deliver quickly. Thanks. Me.”
Now, if I’m going to be honest, I don’t say it quite like that. That sounds far too selfish and egotistical, which are definitely not traits that a good Christian girl like me should have. Rather, it’s phrased:

“Dear God. I understand that you are in the business of blessing your children and doing what is best for their lives. I think I could help you out on blessing my life! (Pats self on back) I have here a plan—of my own devising, even—that I think you will be quite proud of. All it requires are these few things from you (very large list follows). That’s it! Thanks God. I knew you’d understand. By the way, you rock.”

If you have ever found yourself praying anything like the above prayer, please keep reading. But be warned, you might not like what comes next (I can’t say I did either).
Lo and behold, things do not go according to my plan, God doesn’t provide exactly what I want when I want it, and I…well, I do what any sweet, loving child would—I throw a temper tantrum.
This brings me to the whole purpose of this essay. It’s really far too simple in my opinion. Two letters, actually. But put together, they cause such trauma. No. It’s only two letters—not even enough to get points for in a Boggle (yes, I’m one of those weird academic types who likes things like that, thanks for reminding me).
That’s it. No.
When God says “no....” Hmmm...when God says "no...."I know, you’re just dying to finish that sentence. When God says “no” all hell breaks loose. Or when God says “no” everything in my life goes wrong. Or when God says “no” it’s because He loves me.
Whoa there. That can't be right. Six months ago, I would've violently argued against that. But I’ve learned a lot since then.
When God says “no” it’s because He loves you. Because He loves me. Think of a two year old who has no idea what’s good or isn’t good for them. The ball is in the street. They want the ball. A car is coming. What do would you say if your kid wanted to run into the street after the ball? "Go for it, honey!"? OF COURSE NOT! You would say, “NO!”
There’s a hot stove. They want to touch it. What do you say? “NO!” There’s an extra slice of cake. They want to eat it. They have an allergy to wheat that causes them to have terrible stomach aches. What do you say? “NO!” Do you see where this is going? I'm putting this in green because you need to get this:

Parents are constantly telling their children “no” because it’s what’s best for them. Likewise, God—our heavenly Father—says “no” to us when it’s what’s best for us, because He loves us.

This past year, I’ve had to learn the hard way that when God says “no,” He means it. And when He says “no” it’s because He loves me. And if—as I’ve been asking Him for quite some time now—I truly want to experience His love, then I have to be willing to experience His “no’s,” even when I’m desperate for a “yes.”

“For the Lord disciplines those He loves, just as a father the son he delights in” Hebrews 12:6.

Having babysat a lot of bratty children, I can attest to that. Without a doubt, the parents I admire most are those who take time to lovingly discipline their children. It shows me that a parent really loves their kids when they take time to correct them properly, even when it’s unpleasant. They’re more concerned about the long term effects of their kid’s character then whether or not they’re popular with their kids at that moment. Does it really matter if they get that second piece of candy (or video game or night with friends)? Parents who love their kids don’t give them whatever they want just because they want it. They say “no.”
If that’s the case with parents, then it most definitely translates to God. Sometimes, one of most loving things God can do for me is to not give me what I want simply because I want it. In essence, when He says “no,” He’s really saying, “I love you and I'm doing what's best for me, so my answer is 'no'”
Who would’ve thunk?—that’s what’s really going on when God says “no.”

Just another opportunity to love....

A friend once described work as, “just another opportunity to love.” I thought that was cute. And kind of forgot about it. At the time, I was in a job I hated, partially because I was almost always all by myself. I love working with people and detest being by myself. So the whole “just another opportunity to love” didn’t really fit so much. It was more like “just another opportunity to not start belting out the soundtrack to The Little Mermaid to keep myself from boredom.” It required a great deal of self-control on a daily basis. Or maybe it was “just another opportunity to be thankful.” Hmm…it was one of those.
Well, all that to say, tonight I got to experience both of those (well maybe not Little Mermaid.)-- “just another opportunity to love ” and “just another opportunity to be thankful.” Long story short: it was a crazy, highly stressful night. Even though I’m “just a hostess” I busted my butt to help the highly stressed servers. I bussed tables, ran food, watered, set, polished silverware, seated people, apologized to angry guests that the food was taking so long…(none of which is actually in my job description, by the way). We had a huge group of people who ran a tab of about $1000, so I knew that the server I worked with would get an automatic gratuity of close to $200, plus there were other people in the restaurant. So it’s only logical for me to expect that she would give me a decent tip for helping her out.
Seven dollars.
That’s it. Didn’t even break the double digits. Now, I’m not trying to be greedy here, but I’d be lying to say I wasn’t rather put off. Did she really value my help that little? I should’ve just let her deal with the pissed off people by herself for that appreciation. I left work trying very hard to have a good attitude about the whole thing.
As I brooded while driving home, I very quietly heard the Holy Spirit whisper, “Who do you work for?”
“But did you see how she treated me?” I responded, avoiding the question. “Not to mention, she has this terrible habit of patronizing me so that I feel like I’m a seven year old and it’s making me crazy!” Silence. I knew He was waiting for my response, although I was still determined to get His sympathy for this malfeance. “I can’t believe she treated me like that. How selfish. I would be so much more generous. Maybe we should switch places. What do You say to that? I know I just got hired but I could get a promotion.”
Once more a tender, gentle voice, “Who do you work for?”
He wasn’t going to let this one go.
Finally, I begrudgingly answered, “You. I work for You.”
“In that case, who makes certain you get adequate recompense for your work? Who provides for you?”
“But you don’t -- ”
“Who provides for you?”
Sigh. “You do.”
At that moment I remembered Moshe’s quote, “work is just another opportunity to love.” I knew that God was asking me to love, even though that was the last thing I felt like doing. And I knew that He was asking me to let go and trust Him that I would get justly rewarded for my hard work.
I thought of that pathetic, measly seven dollars, a bitter reminder of the apparently low value placed on my labor. However, slowly my perception of those seven dollars changed. I suddenly realized that they weren’t meant to make me bitter, but to teach me, to train me, and quite frankly, build some desperately needed character in me. After all, work is just another opportunity to love.

"Jesus loves me this I know." Or do I?

I hate cliche phrases. Let me just say that, right now. The phrase, "Jesus loves me" is super cliche. I hate to say that as it sounds highly sacrilegious (and, let's not be trite, is). That's because that phrase has been totally worn out, overused, and spouted off without a hint of passion. We say it because we're supposed to. We "believe" it for the same reason. We're supposed to.
My entire faith is founded on this belief. This is elementary doctrine, for crying out loud! Little kids sing it in Sunday school. Evangelists preach it from the streets. We sing about it in every hymn and worship song out there. But how many of us actually, truly, with our hearts, believe it?
I don't.
I mean, I do.
And I don't.
I want to believe it. I'm desperate to believe it. I talk about it and say that it's true. I convince others that it is. But something inside of me resists the belief that a God as big and powerful and amazing as the Almighty would possibly love someone like me. It is almost unfathomable for my puny little mind to grasp that He could genuinely love me. Why would He want to?
But, the more I search the Scriptures, the more evidence I find for His love.
Take 1 John 3:1 "How great the love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called children of God. And this is what we are."
Whoa. Lavish is a big word. It implies extravagance. Excessiveness. It's how you'd describe the guy who has a party that is over-the-top ridiculous, but absolutely mind-blowing and the talk of the whole town. It's not the term you use to describe the powerful but DISTANT god that I've come to believe in. Especially when the thing being lavished is love. Towards me. Puh-lease. I stopped believing in fairy tales a LONG time ago.
Another one of these crazy and absurd verses is Ephesians 1:3 "For He chose us in Him, before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight."
What on earth was this guy thinking? God chose me? Really...you expect me to buy that?
Nonetheless, as I've genuinely pondered these Scriptures (as ridiculous as they may seem), something very strange and wonderful is becoming apparent. While it may seem logical to me that a God as awesome as He claims to be couldn't possibly love me, I'm starting to realize that there's a fallacy in my logic. You see, to claim that He doesn't or couldn't love me is to lessen who He is. It's making Him out to be way small and insignificant.
A god whose powerful? Mighty? Egotistical? I can buy that. But a God whose personal and intimate and caring? A God who "humbles himself" and shows up on earth as a man? A God who submits himself unto death, even death on a cross? That's crazy! It defies logic. And yet, it's wonderful, glorious, and in it's defiance, satisfies logic in a way that my futile religion cannot.
It is because He's personal, because He's intimate, because He comes down to our level...that is what makes this God so incredible. That is what sets the gospel of Jesus Christ apart from every other account of god--even mine. It is only God, whose ways are far beyond me, that could love--and chooses to love--even someone as insignificant as me.
"How great is the love that the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God. And this is what we are." (1 John 3:1)
In essence, "Jesus loves me.
This I know."

The Beckoning

I entered the temple and there it was. Right there, in front of me--large, lonely, and covered in bronze. It was waiting for me. Beckoning, even. I stood staring at the somewhat intimidating piece of furniture (if you could call it that). Everything within me desired to turn and run, but something kept me there. I had come for a reason. A strange mixture of fear, curiosity, and purpose filled my senses as I ventured closer to the altar. I pictured hundreds and hundreds of bulls and goats being sacrificed there, year after year, time after time. I imagined the the priests in their priestly garments, slaughtering the animals, leaving the altar a bloody mess. It was supposed to be an atonement for sin. But bulls and goats would never be enough. I knew that. However, that wasn't why I had come, my sins had already been paid for. No, I was here for another reason. I had been summoned.

The same voice that had called me there, spoke again. Soft, yet audible. "What gets on that altar doesn't come back off."

I started to nod, imagining the bulls and goats whose lives would end here. Then a shudder went down my spine as His words sank in and I realized what He meant. He meant me. He meant that I wouldn't get off. That was why I was here. I had followed Him all this time, believing His promises, obeying His voice, and I had come to die. To climb onto that altar and be sacrificed.

I'd said I'd go. I'd said I'd do whatever it took. I'd said I was prepared for anything. But this? Death? This wasn't what I signed up for. And yet, it was. His own words were, "If anyone desires to find his life, he must lose it." They'd seemed so poetic and beautiful at the time, stirring up images of war heroes sacrificing themselves for the betterment of the people. But with the altar staring brazenly in my face, I was no longer so certain. How could this possibly be the  betterment of anything?

And suddenly, it was as if a light went off in my heart. He wasn't commanding me to die. He was inviting me. His words weren't a threat, they were a promise. What gets on that altar will not come back off. That means me. That means my flesh. That means this constant battle, this constant war inside of me can cease--I would die so that He could live. He was offering to kill the very things that I had begged Him to destroy so many times before. My heart began to pound in excitement as I began to comprehend the reality of the offer that lay before me.

Still, it was my choice. I could climb onto that altar and be sacrificed or turn and run out the same way I'd entered. If I left, I would still be alive, unscathed. If I stayed...well, there was no guarantee. Excitement and fear collided inside of me, as I weighed the decision, My flesh screamed in agony while my spirit leaped in anticipation. I could almost hear the hordes of hell warring with the angels in heaven over my choice. If I climbed onto that altar, there was no turning back. What got on wasn't coming back off. I turned to leave, unable to bear the thought of my bloodied flesh on that altar, but something stopped me.

I had come this far already. I couldn't turn back now. Inhaling deeply and mustering every ounce of courage inside me, I turned around and stared brazenly at the bronze display before me.

The altar, it would be.

Contentment

Contentment is a hard thing for me. Partially, because I'm so used to the feeling of discontent that when I am content I almost don't know what to do with myself. But lately, I've been learning more about what contentment is and what contentment isn't. Let's start with what it isn't. Contentment isn't:

a) having life go exactly as you'd like it
b) the state of feeling happy and excited all the time
c) a feeling at all
d) eternal optimism

Contentment is:
a) a choice that I make or don't make on a daily basis
b) something that comes from pursuing the Lord more than pursuing my own needs

I guess I tend to get caught up in this ridiculous cycle: if I were in another country, traveling the world, I would be content or if I was going to college in another place I would be content. Or if I just weren't still here! If I had a job, if I quit my job, if I had a better job, if I could spend my time painting or writing, if I was in a relationship, if I just didn't have to deal with boys period, if I was busier, if I wasn't so busy...do you see where this is going? No matter where I am, there will always be something about my life that isn't perfect or even satisfactory. I can spend my time whining about these things, or look beyond them and choose to have a good attitude.
Paul said that he had learned the secret of being content in any and every situation. And I think the difference between Paul and me is that I focus on the temporal and Paul focused on the eternal. His focus was heavenward, whereas I keep looking at my circumstance. Hmm...maybe it's time that I took a little hint from this apostle. Because honestly, I really don't want to spend my entire life whining about what's wrong with it. That sounds like fun. I'd rather focus on the things that are good. And the one thing that never changes: the Lord. No matter where I am, He will always be the same. He will always be good. Keeping my eyes on Him will radically change my perspective and remind me that this world is only for awhile. The best is yet to come.
So, here's to looking beyond my circumstances. And choosing contentment.

The Intercessor's Heart

The call of an intercessor is not exactly glamorous. Seriously, there is no self-glory whatsoever involved. I mean, being a missionary to the long lost tribes of Indonesia isn't exactly glamorous either, but it definitely has its glory appeal. Whhat Christian doesn't like a story of the heroic missionary who goes in against all odds and leads and entire people group to Jesus? But, intercession? Nada.
You see, as an intercessor, you spend all this time, energy, and emotion praying for people or nations who have absolutely no idea--and never will have an idea--that you did. You may even come to care deeply for people who may never even know you exist. That's the crazy thing about intercession. Sometimes you spend all this time in prayer for people you don't even know and who definitely don't know you. What's even crazier is when the Holy Spirit reveals things to you about these people that you couldn't possibly know or give you a picture of His heart for them and a glimpse of their calling. And your job is to pray. And you may never ever see the effects of your prayers. Yet, still, you pray.
Awhile ago, God asked me if I was willing ot take up the mantle of intercessor. "It's hard." He said, "There's no glory and no glamour involved. It will hurt. Your heart will break and those for whom it breaks will never know. You will learn things about people that no one else knows and you'll cry for those you've never met. If you accept, you will know my heart for people and come to love them as I love them. You may never see how your prayers effected them. But they will. Are you willing?"
For a long time, I was silent, pondering. I pondered the prospect of pain. I don't like pain. I pondered how no one would see. I like being noticed. I pondered how I would get nothing in return. I want compensation. As I pondered, I thought about how foolish it was for God to ask me to do something like that. "Really? He thought I'd say, "yes"?" The words I heard running through my brain were not exactly laced with surrender, "Why, sure, God! That sounds like my idea of a good time! Heart breaking for people I don't know. Swell."
I kept pondering. And then my ponderings led me down another path. I pondered the people who no one ever prayed for. The people no one saw or cared about. In my heart, I heard the words of Ezekiel the prophet.
"I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none." Ezekiel 22:30
And suddenly, I knew. I couldn't say, "no." These people may never know that I prayed, but that didn't matter. What matters is that I prayed. All of a sudden, I felt this earnestress rise up inside of me, this passion for those whom no one else would pray for.
"Yes." I said, scarcely believing the words coming out of my mouth, "I'll take it. I'll take the mantle of intercessor."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm sure."

Hmmm...

Loneliness is significantly more romantic in movies.

An Unexpected Visitor

Some things in life simply show up in places you don’t expect them to. Like, the ten dollars you lost two years ago showing up in the pocket of your sister’s ski jacket; or the picture of your five year old self streaking in the grass suddenly appearing on the front of the refrigerator; or (my favorite) the lengthy journal entry you wrote about your brother's dreamy friend making it into your brother's hands. Mmhmm...about that...
Likewise, when some of my heart junk was suddenly pasted to the refrigerator and exposed for what it actually was, I was little surprised. The appearance of pride in my life was something that I thought had been gone for awhile. When I think of pride, I think of arrogance, hotheadedness, egotism, and other such belligerent attitudes. However, that's not always the case. Often--possibly more often than not--pride is subtle. At least, it is in my case.
When I first read this verse, I didn’t immediately think PRIDE, until I read it again slowly and the Holy Spirit illumined some things to me.
James 1:21-22 "Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you. Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says."
Humbly accept the word. This is key. To humbly accept the word of God (meaning the Bible and the whatever He personally asks you to do) means that you don’t try to change the word. You don’t try to fit the word to your box of acceptable things that you want to hear. You don’t try to get around the word or find some way to not obey it. You accept it with humility, recognizing that the word of the Lord is fitting. It’s fitting for what you need to hear that day, in that moment. We must humble ourselves and accept whatever it is God is saying to us. And then, we must obey. Hearing the word isn’t enough. It’s important—it’s impossible to obey, if we don’t first hear—but it doesn’t stop there. We must act on what we’ve heard.
You see, when we choose to not obey the word of God, we’re deceiving ourselves. We’re basically saying to God, “ya know what? Thanks for the advice, but I got this. It sounds like a great idea, but maybe not so much for me right now.” Now, we may not be thinking this in our minds, when we choose to ignore the word of God, but this is what’s going on. Our actions are basically saying to God that we think we know better. That’s what the Bible calls PRIDE.
God hates pride. Proverbs 8:13 “To fear the LORD is to hate evil; I hate pride and arrogance, evil behavior and perverse speech.” Proverbs 16:18 “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” Proverbs 16:5 “The LORD detests all the proud of heart. Be sure of this: They will not go unpunished.” Need I say more?
I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want pride in my life. Choosing to ignore the word of God and not be obedient is, honestly, what I was doing. There’s a saying “ignorance is bliss” that’s because “with knowledge comes responsibility.” Once we know what we must know, we’re fooling ourselves to think that we can get away without doing it and not be held responsible. James 4: 17 says “Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins.” Once we’ve heard, we must obey. I was deceiving myself into believe that I was in a better place than I was…I would be obedient later. The problem with later is that it never actually comes. Today is the day to stop making excuses. Lay down our pride. And obey.
Lord, give me the grace to be obedient to You, to walk with You, to follow You, to serve You. I choose to give my heart to You, to be obedient to You. Keep me accountable to that choice…give me the grace to walk it out. Keep me from willing sin, Lord. Purify my heart. Make me new.

Humility? Eh...

Confession:
Sometimes I hate it that the Lord knows me so well.
Sometimes it drives me crazy when He starts revealing things in my heart.
Sometimes I can't stand it that He's right.
Theme for the day? Pride.
I went on walk this morning, and the Lord started showing me that the reason I'm struggling with sin is that I have this unwillingness to truly submit to Him and submit to authority, even if it's just simple things. I keep wanting to do things my own way and am unwilling to change. Even though I want to change with almost everything within me. Twisted, I know.
I decided that I didn't really feel like dealing with pride today, so I ignored it and went along in my miserable little way, feeling sorry for myself that my life isn't so dandy. And then I did this Bible study online and what was the subject? Oh, yes. Pride.
I hate it when He does that.
And yet...the mere fact that He's bringing this up means that it's important. And it means that He loves me enough to not let me get away with that which is destroying my soul. So, even though it frustrates me that He exposes my heart and wants to deal with the garbage that's in there, it means that He loves me. The Bible says that the Lord "disciplines those whom He loves." It's an act of love, even if it doesn't feel like it.
And I guess the fact that I'm so resistant to this subject shows just how correct He is in bringing it up. Sigh.
Okay, Daddy, I guess this means that I have more to learn (go figure), and more to let You do in me (surprise, surprise). So, even though I feel virtually incapable of actually humbling myself, and so totally stuck in my prideful patterns...here I am. I want to be humble before You and I know that I need You. A lot. So...here I am. That's a good place to start, right?

Righteousness by Faith

Psalm 37:39 The salvation of the righteous comes from the LORD;
he is their stronghold in time of trouble.
For some reason this verse really stuck out to me tonight. Maybe it's because I am always trying to earn my way to favor with God. I think that if I'm perfect, God will love me more. Or if I'm perfect, I will be more acceptable. Thus, it sends me on this destructive path of striving, striving, and more striving and simply leaves me empty, broken, and really worn out.
But Ephesians 2:8-10 says that it is "by grace I have been saved, through faith--and this not from myself, it is a gift of God--not by works so that no one can boast. For I am God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for me to do."
It is God who does the work in me.
I do not save myself.
I do not make myself righteous.
I cannot earn my way to Him.
So, why, oh why do I keep trying?

Hope for the Cynic

So, basically, I am the most hopeless romantic. Ever. And it's a very refreshing feeling, actually, as I have been in a rather long and arduous season of cynicism and disgust at the male species. I was seriously considering celibacy for awhile simply so I wouldn't have to ever deal with boys again. Except that I knew that I would still have to deal with them and that wouldn't actually solve my problem as I really do not want to be celibate for the rest of my life.
As I was saying, I am about as ridiculously romantic as they come. Tonight, at Spirit Bearer--the Bible study/worship/prayer group I go to on Friday nights--one of the leaders was talking about what she loves about her husband and how he's been the best possible person for her to walk with for 11 years and help her grow and how he's really a hero to her and I almost started crying. And deep inside of me this little bubble formed inside of me of hope. "Maybe there is hope for me to have a wonderful Jesus-centered marriage after all..."
The fact is, I've been really burned out on being around sucky marriages filled with fighting and frustration. "If that's marriage," I thought, "Then I don't want it." Detect a little cynicism? Yeah, marriage is hard. But it's good, too. At least it is the way God designed it. If God wants what is best for me, doesn't that mean He wants to give me an amazing marriage, one day, too?
I suppose that makes sense, it's just hard for me to believe, sometimes. But tonight, I felt something that I hadn't in awhile. Hope. And not just that...but actually the desire for marriage. Before it's always been, "I want the warm fuzzies of a relationship but don't want to deal with all the other stuff." But now, I kinda sorta am starting to really crave that kind of deep love and intimacy, the willingness to walk through thick and thin together and keep loving.
First, my source is from God. That's where I'm going for that love...but someday, when the time is right, I know that marriage will actually be a good thing.

Simple Calling

I was sitting at Kebaba today, talking with my friend Julia who is recently back from college. It was a good time--we chatted about life, and goals, and callings, and motorcycles...it was just a time of encouragement and uplifting.
As I left, I pondered the whole "callings" thing. I tend to think of life callings as something big, flashy, or glamorous. Or super spiritual. One or the other. Or both. But I almost never think of callings as small things.
But I'm starting to realize, that it's in the small things, that God's calling becomes most evident. For example, God has called me to write Hosea, but He's also called me to finish school, to be a friend, a sister, a nanny...etc. As I was talking with Julia, I realized that one of the most important callings He's given me is simply that of being a friend. Listening to, talking with, encouraging, crying with, laughing with...these are all aspects of being a friend. And these are all ridiculously important to God.
Sometimes the call of God isn't glamorous, flashy, or even obvious. In fact, so often we look for what we think our calling should be--for example, it seems very noble to be a missionary in a foreign country or to be a pastor, shouldn't that be my calling? Isn't it what's the hardest and most difficult road? While it's true that sometimes God's calling is the hardest, most challenging, and most stretching thing we can think, sometimes it's not. In fact, sometimes it's the very thing that comes most naturally.
Sitting in a coffee shop or eater, chatting about life, is the most natural thing in the world to me. And that's just as much a part of my calling as it is for pastor's to preach or missionaries to travel. It's just as much a part of my calling as writing Hosea.
Sometimes, what God is calling us to do isn't what we expect. It's not to go anywhere, or preach anything, or teach anyone. Sometime's it's simply to be who He created you to be right where you are and love the people in your life right where you're at.
And you know what? That's enough.

Barnes and Noble Bonding

Confession: I might possibly have gone to Barnes and Noble to do the massive pile of homework I have, and study for finals...and spent five and a half hours talking to Jenna instead. Okay, it wasn't simply talking. It was very deep heart-to-heart conversation, which ended up in both of us crying multiple times about our problems, self-esteem issues, and relationships with the Lord. We would of course decide to have this conversation in the middle of the cafe at Barnes and Noble right before finals. Go figure. However, it was a very healing conversation for both of us...all five and a half hours of it.
At one point, Jenna looked at me and said, "Wow. I feel as if a hundred pounds just lifted off my shoulders and went on to you." :-) Likewise, I always love talking to Jenna about things. She has the best advice. Even when she doesn't give any advice, her very presence is wisdom-inspiring. It's amazing how healing conversations can be. When there's so much junk pent up in your heart just ready to explode, it's good to talk it over with someone. And it was wonderful to realize that Jenna is struggling just as much as I am. It made me feel a lot less pathetic. Not that I'm glad that Jenna's life is hard, it's just nice to know that she's human too.
Sometimes, I think that's just it. It's not that are problems get smaller, or that we're any closer to answers, it's that we're not all alone anymore; we're not facing our mountains by ourselves. We might still be broken and pathetic, but at least we're broken, hurting, and pathetic together. I think that's why the Bible talks so much about friendship.
This leads me to my next confession: I definitely think relationships are WAY more important than homework.

Forgiveness

Confession #1
I have a problem with forgiveness.
Now, this problem doesn't manifest itself in the way forgiveness usually does. Most people have hard time forgiving others. For me, that's not usually the case. Rather, I struggle with forgiving myself.
For as long as I can remember, I have had impeccably high ideals. From the kind of person I would be to the kind of things I would do to the kind of man I would marry, I never once wanted to settle for second best. And while this--to some extent--caused me to strive for the best, it also had the opposite of the intended effect. When my striving didn't immediately attain the desired outcome, I'd throw up my hands and give up. And sabotage all the efforts I just went to.
As a perfectionist, that wasn't particularly beneficial.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that, the perfectionist in me refuses to die and let myself make mistakes. And the sluggard in me refuses to step up and let myself give my best. And I'm stuck in the middle somewhere, in this deadly mix of anger at myself and an overpowering desire to give up. Did I mention that this combination also knows just how to send myself esteem to the sewers?
So here I am with my sky-high ideals, disintegrating motivation, and vanishing self-image: your very own walking contradiction.
Now what? Shall I continue wallowing in the pit that I have dug for myself as I so often have done before? A lovely mixture of self-pity, self-loathing, frustration, and overall agony?
No thanks.
Been there. Done that.
It sucks.
I think it's time to step out of the slums and the best way I know how to do that is through Scripture.

Psalm 103:8-17

The LORD is compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger, abounding in love.
9 He will not always accuse,
nor will he harbor his anger forever;
10 he does not treat us as our sins deserve
or repay us according to our iniquities.
11 For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his love for those who fear him;
12 as far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed our transgressions from us.
13 As a father has compassion on his children,
so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;
14 for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.
15 As for man, his days are like grass,
he flourishes like a flower of the field;
16 the wind blows over it and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.
17 But from everlasting to everlasting
the LORD's love is with those who fear him

I struggle with forgiving myself, yet the Lord forgives me. His Word says "He does not treat me as my sins deserve." Why should I hold against myself what God does not? Am I above God? God remembers that I am dust...why can't I?
He forgives me. Am I greater than God that I should dangle sin over my head, that I should withhold the grace of God from me? It does nothing but hurt me.
Jesus has chosen to forgive me. To love me. To continue loving me even when I do stupid things. And make choices that I know I shouldn't. As long as I wallow in unforgiveness, I'm blocking the work of the Holy Spirit in my life. Not cool.
So, Daddy, I'm sorry for the mistakes I've made and for choosing to sin. Forgive me, Lord. Help me have a new start. Help me walk in freedom and forgiveness. You forgive me, therefore I will forgive myself. It's a choice.