Go Figure

I sometimes refer to myself as "one who is professional at freaking at things that I shouldn't freak out about." Tonight, this staunch career was in full force as I mentally wrestled with an overloaded mind (making sleep incredibly elusive.) An overbooked schedule, work, school, Bible studies, worship meetings, future school, travel, how to make money for travel, plans, thoughts, ideas...and a sore throat all plagued my throbbing noggin. As I lay in a tub of steaming water (I had to calm myself down somehow!), I felt the Holy Spirit whisper, "Is all this really your responsibility?"

"Yes, God." was my snippy response, "If I don't take care of all this, who will?"

Once more, "Katelyn, is all this really your responsibility?"

When He asks questions again, that generally means my answer was wrong the first time. However, never one to be easily dissuaded: "I'm not sure You understand, I have to do all this stuff. I have to have it figured out. I have to have a plan!"

"Oh? And all this is your responsibility, is it? And just where do I fit in?"

"Well...umm..." I stuttered mindlessly for a moment. He waited while I fumbled for words, before speaking, ever so tenderly.

"Don't you trust that I can take care of you? And I don't actually need your help."

I wanted to argue on about my responsibility and how I needed to take care of things, but I was starting to see that it was pointless. After all, this is the Creator of the Universe. I guess it makes sense when He tells me that He doesn't actually need my help. Go figure.

In my mind, I saw a picture of huge storehouses of wealth--filled with way more money and resources than I could even imagine. And I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, "Just ask. All of these resources are at your fingertips. All you have to do is ask."

I've been freaking out about how on earth I'm going to pay my bills and get to Europe and pay for school and all of the traveling I want to do unless I work 70 hours a week for the next six months (in addition to school and ministry), all the while forgetting that my Dad has all the resources in the world. Literally. And when I'm walking with Him, He'll make a way, He'll open doors, and He'll provide all that I need. Oh, and He doesn't actually need my help. 

Go figure.

Hebrews 4:16

"Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."

Luke 11:8-10

 "Ask and it shall be given to you, seek and you shall find, knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks the door is opened."

Philippians 4:19

And My God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus."

The Room

I carelessly tossed the piece of trash on the ground, as I disparagingly made my way through the piles of garbage. What had I gotten myself into? Surely...surely, he wasn't really going to come...here. After all, what was the point of trying to clean up a pigsty like this anyways? I had to think. I slowly made my way to the couch in the center of the room--if you could call it that. The thing was older than time, covered in a pattern long outdated, and with the springs poking through the ripped and faded fabric. It was both an aesthetic disaster and highly uncomfortable, but it didn't matter. No one was here but me...and I was used to it.

I tried to ignore the reeking and rotting mounds of junk--boxes filled with random trinkets, meals that never got finished, trophies from preschool, yesterday's homework. Half of the room was enclosed in a curtain--well, a sheet, that is--to make it look like less of a chaotic mess. It was the same with the piles, they were covered in various colored sheets, so that you couldn't really see what was underneath. Nevertheless, each sheet was labeled, so that I had an idea of what was there. Yes, this was my junk room. The room no one EVER came in. At least, no one ever had.

As I sat in the middle of my disastrous--yet oddly comfortable--room, I thought about what I'd gotten myself into. It had started with a conversation I'd had earlier that day, a conversation with a very dear friend. My friend had asked about this room of mine, that I never let anyone enter. I'd talked about it many times before--often flippantly, as if it wasn't a big deal. But there were a few times that I'd mentioned it not so flippantly. And he'd noticed. He tends to notice stuff like that. So, he brought it up. He asked if he could come see it. And if I'd wanted, he could help me clean it.

"Oh no." I'd responded, "You wouldn't possibly want to go in there."

"I think I would," He'd responded.

"But it's a mess! I mean...believe me when I say, it's a disaster."

"Oh, I believe you. I still want to come." Then--teasing, "you'll still be my favorite." He's been saying that to me for as long as I can remember. He says it whenever he's talking about someone he really likes...and he makes a point to always say it to me. But if I let him into that room, things might change.

I tried to convince him to give up on the idea, but when he gets an idea in his head, it's really hard to get it out. And somehow--after a momentary lapse of reason--I'd agreed. I'd agreed to let him in. Feeling sick to my stomach, I got up and paced, and attempted to make clean. But it was useless. Even if I managed to get all the trash out, there was still the matter of the broken rafters, the sagging walls, and the boarded up windows...not to mention the bathroom. We're not even going there.

And then, the sound that I had been dreading.

Knock. Knock.

Maybe if I waited, he would change his mind. Maybe he'd think I wasn't here. Maybe...

Knock. Knock.

Reluctantly I moved towards the door. "What am I doing?" I think to myself, "Surely this isn't necessary. He'll never want to be with me once he sees this. He'll hate me. If I let him in, he's just going to leave. He'll..."

Knock. Knock.

Gulp.

I open the door.

And there...there he is. And he is smiling. Oh that smile. Now I remembered, that smile was the whole reason I'd agreed to let him come. When I see that smile, I go senseless. In one hand he was holding a large black sack. With the other, he reached out and grabbed my hand, as if to assure me that everything was going to be okay. Then, he entered. He looked at the catastrophe. I mean, really looked at it. He walked around, perusing the whole thing.

And then he did something that I really didn't expect him to do. He began uncovering the piles. He pulled off the sheet "Busyness" to reveal a pile of loneliness and an old dresser whose drawers were overflowing with dreams I'd tried to forget. He pulled off "False Confidence" to reveal box after box of insecurity. He stripped off the one labeled, "Happy." Underneath were all sorts of sorrows and unhealed hurts, along with mounds of dirty gauze and band-aids that I'd used to cover up old wounds. Problem is, most of those wounds never fully healed...so the pile of band-aids just keeps growing.

With each pile I grew increasingly uncomfortable. And then he went to the side of the room that I was hoping he wouldn't--the curtain.

"No...please." I thought, "Anything but that."

If he went in there, he would see the one thing that I would worked so long and hard to hide. I hated--nay despised--this part of the room with an intense passion. Nevertheless, I couldn't get away from it. Going in there was like this neurotic compulsion for me--it was the only part of the room that was at all neat. Probably, because this was where I had spent the most amount of time...and now...now he was going to see it.

He looked long at hard the curtain. This curtain was the prettiest of them all and gave some semblance of order and beauty to the room...or so I told myself. It was labeled, "Perfection." He slowly but surely pulled it back to reveal just one old cardboard box, bland and boring. No big deal, right? On this box was the label, "Failures." He opened it. I couldn't watch. Now, he would see. He would see every time I'd hurt someone, every time I'd cursed someone under my breath, every time I'd let down myself and others, every time I'd sinned in my heart and with my hands...every one was in that box. I know, because I'd been through them over and over and over again.

And now, he'd seen them. He'd seen my room. He'd seen everything. There was no way he was going to stay, now that he knew how much work it was going to be.

He beckoned for me to come next to him, to where he was now sitting. He pulled out a failure and showed it to me. I choked back tears...I remembered that one as if it was yesterday. In fact, the page on which it was written was tear-stained, crumpled, and covered in shame. I had tried to throw it away many times before, but never could. It always ended up back in my box. Every. Single. Time. Throwing it away was pointless. Forgetting, impossible.

He then opened the large black sack, that he had carried in with him. I had forgotten about it until now.

"May I?" he asked.

"Oh you don't understand. I've tried...it never works."

He just grinned, crumpled the page, and tossed it in there. He didn't get it, did he? I opened my box, to show him that it would still be there, but when I looked for it, I discovered it wasn't. Stunned, I then opened his sack, to pull it back it. It wasn't there either.

"What...what's going on? How did you do that?"

"Do you remember that conversation, when I asked if you'd trust me?"

I nodded.

"Well, then, trust me."

I choked back tears as he pulled out another. This memory was more painful, the failure more apparent. We read over it and once again, he crumpled it up and tossed into his sack. Once again, it simply disappeared. Memory after memory, failure after failure went into that sack, and disappeared into the abyss. With each one, I could feel myself getting lighter and growing freer. As we went through them, I noticed, that some of the other piles of things began growing smaller, too. My insecurity pile was no longer as towering, my unhealed hurts were no longer as overwhelming.

Before I knew it, we had been through the whole box. I was unsure how to feel...I felt both exhausted and energized; terrified and terrific; free and frightened. In some ways, I felt frightened by my freedom. I had grown so used to the contents of that box, that now that they were gone, I didn't know what to do or how to feel.

He then turned to me and looked into my eyes--in the serious, probing way that only he can. "It's done," he said, "they're gone. You won't be able to find them again. So, don't try looking, because they won't be there. Forget about them. It's done."

I nodded, unable to speak. I looked around at the room, which was still messy, but different. I could see that the sun was shining through the window, as it set on the horizon. Spring flowers were starting to spring up outside that I hadn't noticed before.

Then he spoke again, lightly this time, his face breaking into a huge grin. He leaned in close and whispered, "And guess what? You're still my favorite."

Isaiah 43:18
Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. Behold, I am doing a new thing. Now it springs up, do you not perceive it?

Psalm 103:12
As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

Splashes and Ripples

Sometimes I have imaginary conversations in my head. No, I'm not schizophrenic...though, I think you could safely say I have a tendency to over-analyze things. Tonight, I was thinking a lot about all of the things I would say and all of the things I would do if there were no consequences to my words or actions. I confess there's a part of me that wants so badly to jump off the deep end into a pool of recklessness simply because I'm tired of always saying the right thing (or rather, not saying the wrong thing) always doing the right thing.

And I'm really tired of getting made fun of for choosing the right thing, too, even when it's just playful. I think that's what's really wearying to me. Somewhere in all the teasing and lightheartedness, these subtle (okay, maybe not so subtle) messages are being given:

"It's not really worth it."
"Waiting is overrated."
"Just do what feels good."
"C'mon, just jump into the pool already."

And, if I'm going to be completely honest, there's a part of me that wants so badly to say, "screw it," and do exactly what I want, when I want, and how I want, regardless of the consequences. But, deep down, I can't disregard the consequences. The fact is, I know that jumping into that pool will have both splashes and ripples. And the ripples last long after the splash is gone. Actions will always have consequences. The question is, "what do I want those consequences to be?"

Should I listen to those messages and make decisions based on what I want, when I want it, and how I want it? Here is where I run into a problem--what I want is a matter of the moment, it's a matter of emotion. And Emotion is a really good liar. Not to mention, it's ridiculously finicky. One minute it wants one thing, the next minute it's something different. It's an exhausting game working to please Emotion. A game, that quite honestly, I don't want to play.

This brings me to the other option: making decisions based on Truth. Truth is of a completely different nature than Emotion. You see, Truth is unchanging. Truth is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Emotion will fluctuate up and down and be all over the place, but Truth is solid. Truth will stand long after Emotion has faded. And Truth looks at that pool of recklessness and asks, "Is it really worth it? Are those really the ripples you want." Then Truth takes me by the hand and says:

"Remember. Remember why you're here. Remember why you're standing. Remember why you've made the choices you've made. Remember who you serve. Remember why you're waiting. Remember. Remember me."

And suddenly, in the face of Truth, all of Emotion's offers simply aren't as appealing anymore, because I see them for what they are: a bunch of empty emotions...that come with consequences, no less. In essence, one loud splash with a whole lot of ripples.

Today's truth that I'm standing on:

Hebrews 4:14-16
Therefeore since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens--Jesus the Son of God--let us hold fast to the confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has been tested in every way as we are, yet without sin. Therefore let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

When God Says "No"

I was going to try and write something amazing and profound, probably relating to Valentine's Day and trusting the Lord and being content and all that jazz...but then I read this post from October. And it so very much fits where I'm at right now, that I had to share it again. So here it is:

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.”

When Waiting Sucks

Sometimes it feels like waiting on God is just plain pointless.
What's the use, really? Sure, there are all these promises in the Bible about those who wait on the Lord, but let's face it, waiting sucks. Especially when it just plain seems like God isn't going to show up.
I know I'm not the first person to ever feel this way or to doubt God's promises (otherwise, why would there be SO many verses about waiting and trusting etc.?) Saul, the first king of Israel, struggled with this as well. Now, here was a man handpicked, anointed, and set apart by God. At the beginning of his kingly career, he prophesied, led his people to victory in battle, realigned Israel to God, and had what looked like a stellar life ahead of him. And then, somewhere he got off track. Or, to be more accurate, he got a little impatient. It's in 1 Samuel 13, that we see Saul's story take a turn for the worse.

1 Samuel 13:5-10
"The Philistines also gathered to fight against Israel...The men of Israel saw that they were in trouble because the troops were in a difficult situation. They hid in caves, thickets, among rocks, and in holes and cisterns. Some Hebrews even crossed the Jordan to the land of Gad and Gilead.
"Saul, however was still at Gilgal, and all his troops were gripped with fear. He waited seven days for the appointed time that Samuel had set, but Samuel didn't come to Gilgal, and the troops were deserting him. So Saul said, 'Bring me the burnt offering and the fellowship offerings.' Then he offered the burnt offering.
"Just as he finished offering the burnt offering, Samuel arrived. So Saul went out to greet him, and Samuel asked, 'What have you done?'"

Let's pause, for a moment. Why is what Saul did a big deal? Why was Samuel so upset with Saul? To start, let's look at this from Saul's point of view. He's between a rock and a hard place. The Philistines are about to attack on one side, his troops are deserting him on the other; he's waiting for Samuel, who will come and help unify the troops, but Samuel hasn't shown up. So what does he do? Something's gotta be done. God's not coming through, so it's time to take things into his own hands. This is where the problem is. The fact that Saul offered the burnt offering, while appearing like he was trusting God, was actually evidence of the exact opposite. That was not his job and he knew it. He was trying to show the troops that he was in control by offering this sacrifice. If you read earlier, you'll realize that this sacrifice was supposed to be where Samuel anointed Saul again and established that his kingdom would last in the land of Israel. Samuel was supposed to anoint Saul. Saul was not supposed to anoint himself.
In a sense, God was testing Saul to see if Saul would stand firm and wait on God, even if God seemed like He was going to be late.

Habakkuk 2:3
"For the vision is yet for the appointed time; it testifies about the end and will note lie. Though it delays, wait for it, since it will certainly come and not be late."

Just because God delays His promise, doesn't mean He's late and it doesn't mean He's not coming through. It simply means His timing is not our timing. And perhaps, like Saul, He's testing us to see if we will wait, even when it seems like He's forgotten.
What are you waiting for? Have you given up hope? Have you decided that God's not coming through and to try and take matters into your own hands? Please, don't. It's never a good idea. I'm not negating personal responsibility, just saying that if God's given you a promise, hold onto that promise for dear life. Trust that He will come through. He's faithful like that. Don't make the same mistake Saul did, a mistake that eventually cost him the throne. Instead, let us declare, like David:

"Surely I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." (Psalm 27:13-14)

Maybe waiting isn't such a bad thing, after all.

Shut up and Rest

Last night I drove home from work and vented my frustrations to the Lord. Why does He always put me in situations where my character has to be tested? Really, couldn't He just give me what I want when I want it for once? I realize how egotistical and selfish that last statement sounds...that probably has to something to do with the state of my heart. As I complained that He was taking too long, He ever so simply, in His sweet, wonderful way said, "Praise." As much as I didn't want to (I've been learned that arguing is futile), I consented. Ever so surely, I was brought back to a place of humility and reminded that a) God is still God, b) He does love me c) He does know what He's doing d) all He's called me to do right now is rest.
Be still.
Rest.
Wait.
Shhh...don't speak. Just rest.
For someone who is pro at freaking out at things she shouldn't freak out about, this is somewhat difficult. But slowly and surely, I'm learning to be still and rest.
2 Chronicles 20:17 "You do not have to fight this battle. Position yourselves, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord."
If I'm constantly trying to figure it out or make it happen on my own, I'll never be able to see what God's doing or the way He's going to show up. The only way I can is if I shut up and rest.
Isaiah 30:15 "This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it."
The Israelites simply didn't get it. And sometimes I don't really either. I don't want it to be said of me, "I offered you all this, 'but you would have none of it.'" I like the "and you will see the salvation of the Lord" verse better. Which version I get to experience is kind of up to me, though, isn't it?
So, I think I'm going to listen this time. I guess that means I'd better stop writing, shut up, and rest.