Thirsty

When I think vocabulary that could describe my current state of being, two words come to mind: thirsty and desperate. Not exactly the two words that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But, in all honesty, I feel like my soul is in a state of deep desperation and longing that I can't really describe. It's kind of like how you feel after a really long run on a super hot day when you forgot your water bottle. The only thing you can think about is getting a hold of some water and chugging it. It's like there's this deep, intense thirst inside of me that I'm desperate to quench.
Isaiah 41:17 says "The poor and needy seek water, but there is none; their tongues are parched with thirst." I don't know of any other way to describe my heart but like that. It's a pretty pathetic feeling, but I think it's a good place to be. Especially when you read further. "I, the Lord, will answer them; I, the God of Israel, do not forsake them. I will open rivers on the barren heights, and springs in the middle of the plains. I will turn the desert into a pool of water and dry land into springs of water."
Matthew 5:6 says, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they shall be filled." and John 6:35, "I am the bread of life," Jesus told them, "No one who comes to me will ever be hungry and no one who believes in me will ever be thirsty again." Jesus wasn't saying that we'd never experience hunger pains or the feeling of thirst, rather that we would be filled. That we'd never be in a place where we would be unable to satisfy our spiritual hunger or thirst because we can always turn to Him and He will fill us anew.
Psalm 34:8 says "Taste and see that the Lord is good." Have you ever noticed how much better food tastes when you're really really really hungry? Or how you may hate water when you're full, but when you're really thirsty it's the most amazing thing in the world? God is inviting us to come with our hunger and thirst and desperation. He's inviting us to drink from His waters that we may live.
The cool thing about hunger and thirst is that they're indicators that our bodies are working properly. If we didn't ever get hungry or thirsty, we'd have no way of knowing that we need nutrition and fuel. It's the same with our spirits. When we find ourselves empty and burnt out or just plain hungry for something new and refreshing, it's our spirits indicating that they need to be fed.
So, I guess thirsty and desperate...that's an okay place to be. It's okay because it brings me to back to Jesus and the foot of the cross. Not to mention, God is known for meeting those in desperation. And the greater my thirst, the more appealing is His invitation. He promised to provide water for the thirsty and, friends, I am thirsty. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to "taste and see" just how good He really is. I have a feeling I won't be disappointed.

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.