The boy had never before left the forest. Thick, tall, perfectly straight pines; gnarled, ancient, lumbering oaks; dense, protective undergrowth highlighted by occasional bursts of sunlight: these were all he knew. Nestled among a stand of pines stood the cabin. Here he had been born, took his first steps, and learned to survive nature's fury.
This was his world.
There was no need to leave; everything his family needed for their survival was within walking distance. Their life was a simple one, no cloth, no glass, no books. These were things he had heard of only from his father and mother, who had raised him wholly within the confines of the forest's protective shade.
Some days, he would walk just beyond the cabin to a small clearing. He'd lay down in the tall grass and soak in the sun's rays. And he'd dream of the world outside the forest, a world he'd heard of only through story. He'd wonder what it'd be like to live in a world where clearings stretched for miles on end. He'd wonder what it would be like to have neighbors, what it'd be like to go to a store, how it'd feel to be in love.
But this was his world.
All that he knew of the outside had taken on mythical proportions - not having experienced it relegated it to the realm of the unknown.
This was his world.
One day, all of this changed. His mother got ill, and, beside himself, his father went for help.
When the doctor came, the boy didn't know how to act. This invasion of his world was unprecedented and strange. He sat quietly in the corner, watching this strangely dressed, strangely mannered man.
And when the doctor left, the boy wondered what it might be like to go with him.
But this was his world.
And then, the unthinkable happened. First his mother succumbed, then his father fell sick. Within days they were both dead. The boy was alone.
For days, the boy stayed in the cabin.
And then, one day, he inexplicably rose, gathered a sack with his few possessions, and began to walk. He walked straight east for several days, stopping only to sleep and eat.
And he came to the edge of the forest. Blinded by the vista before him, the boy ran back into the shelter of the towering pines. He hunkered behind a large tree, considering the options before him. Back to the cabin, or into the unknown. Back to the safety of the only world he had ever known, or forward into a world filled with life.
The boy rose, picked up his sack, and walked back to his cabin.
Seasons passed. The boy grew while the world around him remained unchanged.
And always he felt the pull of the unknown. After a glimpse of the endless grass, the clearing was no longer enough. So he took to making a journey every few months to the forest's edge, where he would stare out at the endless prairie.
One day, while he stood at the forest's edge watching the grass sway in the wind, a man on a horse rode by. Shrinking back into the trees, the boy watched him pass with wide eyes.
And when the man had passed by, the boy rose and walked out into the sunlight.
And kept walking.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
cloaked injustice
How much injustice has been justified under the cloak of freedom?
The language of liberty, equality, and fraternity was born out of Enlightenment, the same Enlightenment that declared the death of God, the same enlightenment that did away with the validity of the miraculous. Humanity began to feel entitled, entitled to the wealth, political power, and land of the king, and she rebelled. Out of the Enlightenment sprang the principle of rights. The right to believe what we will, to say what we will, to act how we will.
To be certain, innumerable good has come of the revolutions of the long nineteenth century. Women gained a voice in the public sphere, a change for which I am so thankful. Slavery was abolished in the name of liberty and equality, and eventually the Civil Rights Movement used the language of liberty, equality, and fraternity to claim for all people regardless of skin color the same rights.
And yet, I am becoming increasingly convinced that indescribable evil is also cloaked in the language of the Revolution. Blindness, greed, hypocrisy, and power masquerade as liberty, consigning the helpless to hell.
Power and liberty have always walked hand in hand. The American South used the language of liberty and "states' rights" to defend the ownership of human beings that did not quality for fraternity. Others, such as Native Americans, were deemed inferior were conquered in order to rescue them from themselves. And these examples only apply to the United States.
The United States is said to have been founded as a "Christian Nation." A Christian nation which owned slaves, subjugated native populations, committing unspeakable injustice in the name of freedom.
We ended slavery. The Civil Rights movement took a step toward finishing what the Civil War began. Much progress has been made. To speak of progress, though, is to assume humanity to be moving forward toward eventual perfection.
And much of the time, it is perfectly clear to me that America is moving no where toward perfection. Injustice takes new forms every day.
I am particularly concerned by the politicization of American Christianity, and the religicization (yeah, I just made that word up) of twenty-first century Republicanism.
I hesitate to hold this opinion, because one of my biggest heroes is Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who died for his political protest during Nazi Germany. I hold this opinion nonetheless, and here is why:
A concept of "religious freedom" has come to replace justice as the goal of American Christianity. American Christians feel entitled to rights, to wealth, to political power. American Christians feel as if this "Christian nation" is slipping away, and that it is our "right" to hold onto it.
To be certain, I full-heartedly support a firm stand against injustice. I will stand against the injustice and horrible collective sin of abortion as long as I live, and I will never stand for the institutionalization of such injustice.
What I will NOT stand for, however, is those who blindly hold onto their religious rights in the face of injustice. Life is not about me living a happy, peaceful life with my white picket fence, cookie-cutter husband, and two kids. Life is not about me happily living out my religion unmolested by the powers that be. In actuality, the government and its laws have nothing to do with my freedom to believe what I will. I, as a human being, am inherently free, and nothing can hinder that freedom. I am always free to fight for what is right. To defend the poor, the fatherless, the widowed. To stand against murder, against prejudice, and against hate.
My prayer is that my stand against injustice will be bold without being fearful. Strong without being hateful. Certain without being prideful. I want to stand for those who have no voice, not because I have "rights," but because Christ makes me free. My freedom and my rights are found in Him alone.
Injustice is so often cloaked in the language of rights. Those rights are never for the downtrodden and neglected though. Those rights are always for the powerful.
Shame on us.
The language of liberty, equality, and fraternity was born out of Enlightenment, the same Enlightenment that declared the death of God, the same enlightenment that did away with the validity of the miraculous. Humanity began to feel entitled, entitled to the wealth, political power, and land of the king, and she rebelled. Out of the Enlightenment sprang the principle of rights. The right to believe what we will, to say what we will, to act how we will.
To be certain, innumerable good has come of the revolutions of the long nineteenth century. Women gained a voice in the public sphere, a change for which I am so thankful. Slavery was abolished in the name of liberty and equality, and eventually the Civil Rights Movement used the language of liberty, equality, and fraternity to claim for all people regardless of skin color the same rights.
And yet, I am becoming increasingly convinced that indescribable evil is also cloaked in the language of the Revolution. Blindness, greed, hypocrisy, and power masquerade as liberty, consigning the helpless to hell.
Power and liberty have always walked hand in hand. The American South used the language of liberty and "states' rights" to defend the ownership of human beings that did not quality for fraternity. Others, such as Native Americans, were deemed inferior were conquered in order to rescue them from themselves. And these examples only apply to the United States.
The United States is said to have been founded as a "Christian Nation." A Christian nation which owned slaves, subjugated native populations, committing unspeakable injustice in the name of freedom.
We ended slavery. The Civil Rights movement took a step toward finishing what the Civil War began. Much progress has been made. To speak of progress, though, is to assume humanity to be moving forward toward eventual perfection.
And much of the time, it is perfectly clear to me that America is moving no where toward perfection. Injustice takes new forms every day.
I am particularly concerned by the politicization of American Christianity, and the religicization (yeah, I just made that word up) of twenty-first century Republicanism.
I hesitate to hold this opinion, because one of my biggest heroes is Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who died for his political protest during Nazi Germany. I hold this opinion nonetheless, and here is why:
A concept of "religious freedom" has come to replace justice as the goal of American Christianity. American Christians feel entitled to rights, to wealth, to political power. American Christians feel as if this "Christian nation" is slipping away, and that it is our "right" to hold onto it.
To be certain, I full-heartedly support a firm stand against injustice. I will stand against the injustice and horrible collective sin of abortion as long as I live, and I will never stand for the institutionalization of such injustice.
What I will NOT stand for, however, is those who blindly hold onto their religious rights in the face of injustice. Life is not about me living a happy, peaceful life with my white picket fence, cookie-cutter husband, and two kids. Life is not about me happily living out my religion unmolested by the powers that be. In actuality, the government and its laws have nothing to do with my freedom to believe what I will. I, as a human being, am inherently free, and nothing can hinder that freedom. I am always free to fight for what is right. To defend the poor, the fatherless, the widowed. To stand against murder, against prejudice, and against hate.
My prayer is that my stand against injustice will be bold without being fearful. Strong without being hateful. Certain without being prideful. I want to stand for those who have no voice, not because I have "rights," but because Christ makes me free. My freedom and my rights are found in Him alone.
Injustice is so often cloaked in the language of rights. Those rights are never for the downtrodden and neglected though. Those rights are always for the powerful.
Shame on us.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
riding the roller coaster
The last few weeks have been insanity for me. Absolute, utter, ridiculous insanity. I've learned so much about myself. Some good, mostly bad.
It seems I'm a freak of nature; I turn through emotions at a rate that would terrify the girl described in Relient K's "Mood Rings." And it's not even just emotion. Mostly it's just varying degrees of fear and varying ideas about how to deal with this fear.
This fear leaves me paralyzed. The world slows around me and I forget to live in the here and now. I become obsessed with what ifs. I forget to trust God.
Sometimes I don't know how to deal with this. A few nights ago I was at my wit's end. It was in that moment that I cried out to God (funny, eh?).
He brought me back to Psalm 139. Now in my moments of panic, I stop and I read Psalm 139:1-7.
And, truly, where can I go from His Spirit?
God is good.
It seems I'm a freak of nature; I turn through emotions at a rate that would terrify the girl described in Relient K's "Mood Rings." And it's not even just emotion. Mostly it's just varying degrees of fear and varying ideas about how to deal with this fear.
This fear leaves me paralyzed. The world slows around me and I forget to live in the here and now. I become obsessed with what ifs. I forget to trust God.
Sometimes I don't know how to deal with this. A few nights ago I was at my wit's end. It was in that moment that I cried out to God (funny, eh?).
He brought me back to Psalm 139. Now in my moments of panic, I stop and I read Psalm 139:1-7.
And, truly, where can I go from His Spirit?
God is good.
Monday, February 20, 2012
a thousand tears
If I could cry these thousand tears,
Maybe then I would know,
the depth and power of love,
To wipe away my fears
It's been nigh a thousand nights,
A thousand nights of pain,
As I muddle through this life,
Striving toward the right
The thousand tears refuse to fall,
But blind me nonetheless,
I can no longer see the path,
Instead I grope along the wall
The pain of a thousand nights,
Bring me here, to now,
And yet I stagger to my feet,
as I see the distant lights.
For all the thousand things I'm not,
He is sufficient,
For the thousand times I fall,
Grace upon grace is my lot.
Maybe then I would know,
the depth and power of love,
To wipe away my fears
It's been nigh a thousand nights,
A thousand nights of pain,
As I muddle through this life,
Striving toward the right
The thousand tears refuse to fall,
But blind me nonetheless,
I can no longer see the path,
Instead I grope along the wall
The pain of a thousand nights,
Bring me here, to now,
And yet I stagger to my feet,
as I see the distant lights.
For all the thousand things I'm not,
He is sufficient,
For the thousand times I fall,
Grace upon grace is my lot.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
darkness is as light to You
Psalm 139:4-6 - "Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD. You hem me in--behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain."
I walked into church this morning just as the service was beginning. I almost always am on the worship team, so this was a nice change of pace for me. Although I do not feel as if my ability to worship God is entirely hindered by the responsibilities of worship-leading, there are times when I miss being able to choose when I sing and when I don't, when I simply soak it in and when I don't, when I pray and read Scripture while the music plays and when I simply sing with hands raised. I have missed that.
I came to church this morning with a lot of emotional baggage (although, when don't I?). You see, I'm a people-pleaser. What this means is that many people tend to think I'm a really great person (well, okay, maybe they don't...), because I am constantly in overdrive obsessing over how every little thing that I do will affect the people around me. I see this as both my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. It means that when you say something to me, I am going to immediately try to figure out what you want to hear, and then I will most likely say that. I always try to be honest, but many times I compromise my reality or my values to find a middle ground. I will always validate everything you are saying, and though I may insert my opinion, it will always be with the caveat that I have no idea what I'm talking about, so you shouldn't listen to me. My people-pleasing nature also means that I am almost always panicking about something or other. "I didn't handle that situation correctly, and now Sally probably doesn't think I appreciate her."
I over-think everything. I love too strongly, too quickly. I am too quick to trust, too quick to believe. And this unwavering loyalty is accompanied by constant fear. Fear for myself, but most of all, fear that this fear will hurt those around me. I rarely worry about myself. Well, that's not even true. I do worry about myself, but not directly. I worry that I will hurt people, which will in turn have an impact on their opinion of me.
I worry about the future. I constantly run scenarios of what my next step should be. Today is rarely enough for me. Always tomorrow presses in. I also worry incessantly about the past. I mourn my selfishness, my inability to love like I should have, and I mourn my inability to make sense of it all. I worry about the cyclical nature of life. I worry, worry, worry.
Suffice it to say, I walked into church this morning with more than a couple burdens. As the worship songs were playing, I flipped my Bible open to the Psalms. The way my Bible is, it flips most often to the page with Psalm 130. And so I started reading at Psalm 130. "Out of the depths I cry to you, oh Lord..." This was the lyrics to one of the first songs I wrote. Psalm 131:2 - "But I have stilled and quieted my soul..." What does it even mean to still and quiet my soul? Do I ever really attain that? Oh, God, that You would still my soul so that I could discern your will for me. That I would be able to set aside the worries of yesterday, today, and tomorrow and be still before you. Psalm 133 - "How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity." This verse is so powerful for me, being applicable to so many situations in my life. I kept reading, soaking in the affirmations of the goodness of God above all else.
And then I got to Psalm 139. "O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD. You hem me in--behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me..."
And I was so struck by God's love for me. He knows me. He is familiar with all my ways, all my flaws, all my foibles. He knows everything I have said and will say. He understands why I say it, what drives me to that place, and all the intricate meaning behind the comparative simplicity of the words themselves. He hems me in, behind and before. Not only does he know my future and prepare me for that, he bandages my wounds. He takes my mistakes and my failures and turns them into His glory.
I'm blown away. Both by God's faithfulness in the past, something I can clearly see, and God's faithfulness in the future, something that is somewhat more hard to accept. Because here's the thing: let's say that huge mistakes are in my future. I can accept that God will teach me something from it. I can accept the pain that will accompany those mistakes, because I know I deserve it. But I mourn for those caught in the crossfire. But this morning I was so convicted by my need to set aside my people-pleaser ways and trust that God is not only big enough for me, He's also big enough for those I love and yet hurt. He hems us in, behind and before. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.
Psalm 139:11 - "If I say, 'Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,' even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you."
There is incredible peace in those words. My darkness is completely understood by God, and it is light to Him. Somehow, it is light.
I walked into church this morning just as the service was beginning. I almost always am on the worship team, so this was a nice change of pace for me. Although I do not feel as if my ability to worship God is entirely hindered by the responsibilities of worship-leading, there are times when I miss being able to choose when I sing and when I don't, when I simply soak it in and when I don't, when I pray and read Scripture while the music plays and when I simply sing with hands raised. I have missed that.
I came to church this morning with a lot of emotional baggage (although, when don't I?). You see, I'm a people-pleaser. What this means is that many people tend to think I'm a really great person (well, okay, maybe they don't...), because I am constantly in overdrive obsessing over how every little thing that I do will affect the people around me. I see this as both my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. It means that when you say something to me, I am going to immediately try to figure out what you want to hear, and then I will most likely say that. I always try to be honest, but many times I compromise my reality or my values to find a middle ground. I will always validate everything you are saying, and though I may insert my opinion, it will always be with the caveat that I have no idea what I'm talking about, so you shouldn't listen to me. My people-pleasing nature also means that I am almost always panicking about something or other. "I didn't handle that situation correctly, and now Sally probably doesn't think I appreciate her."
I over-think everything. I love too strongly, too quickly. I am too quick to trust, too quick to believe. And this unwavering loyalty is accompanied by constant fear. Fear for myself, but most of all, fear that this fear will hurt those around me. I rarely worry about myself. Well, that's not even true. I do worry about myself, but not directly. I worry that I will hurt people, which will in turn have an impact on their opinion of me.
I worry about the future. I constantly run scenarios of what my next step should be. Today is rarely enough for me. Always tomorrow presses in. I also worry incessantly about the past. I mourn my selfishness, my inability to love like I should have, and I mourn my inability to make sense of it all. I worry about the cyclical nature of life. I worry, worry, worry.
Suffice it to say, I walked into church this morning with more than a couple burdens. As the worship songs were playing, I flipped my Bible open to the Psalms. The way my Bible is, it flips most often to the page with Psalm 130. And so I started reading at Psalm 130. "Out of the depths I cry to you, oh Lord..." This was the lyrics to one of the first songs I wrote. Psalm 131:2 - "But I have stilled and quieted my soul..." What does it even mean to still and quiet my soul? Do I ever really attain that? Oh, God, that You would still my soul so that I could discern your will for me. That I would be able to set aside the worries of yesterday, today, and tomorrow and be still before you. Psalm 133 - "How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity." This verse is so powerful for me, being applicable to so many situations in my life. I kept reading, soaking in the affirmations of the goodness of God above all else.
And then I got to Psalm 139. "O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD. You hem me in--behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me..."
And I was so struck by God's love for me. He knows me. He is familiar with all my ways, all my flaws, all my foibles. He knows everything I have said and will say. He understands why I say it, what drives me to that place, and all the intricate meaning behind the comparative simplicity of the words themselves. He hems me in, behind and before. Not only does he know my future and prepare me for that, he bandages my wounds. He takes my mistakes and my failures and turns them into His glory.
I'm blown away. Both by God's faithfulness in the past, something I can clearly see, and God's faithfulness in the future, something that is somewhat more hard to accept. Because here's the thing: let's say that huge mistakes are in my future. I can accept that God will teach me something from it. I can accept the pain that will accompany those mistakes, because I know I deserve it. But I mourn for those caught in the crossfire. But this morning I was so convicted by my need to set aside my people-pleaser ways and trust that God is not only big enough for me, He's also big enough for those I love and yet hurt. He hems us in, behind and before. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.
Psalm 139:11 - "If I say, 'Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,' even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you."
There is incredible peace in those words. My darkness is completely understood by God, and it is light to Him. Somehow, it is light.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
pressing on
I'm trying very hard to live my life as my own. To live responsibly, to live justly, to live constantly aware of the broken world which I am called to love, to serve, to give my life. And it's so hard. It's so hard to follow my heart and my convictions - the pull of others' perceptions, my unstable emotions, and a constantly rebelling intellect make this calling nigh impossible at times.
I'm trying very hard to live no one's life but my own. I'm trying not to worry about what others may think, how they may judge me and find me lacking. I'm trying not to concern myself with dogmas and with prejudice, because all of this rubbish only holds me back from following this path as it leads me to a new sort of life.
I'm an adult now. It's time to start living like one. To embrace the life God has given me, to embrace the experiences He has put in my path, and to full heartedly serve Him with everything I am, not everything I think I should be or with everything I once was. But with everything I am. This, I believe, is my calling, and it's not easy.
I am reminded, though, that no one ever said it'd be easy.
I'm trying very hard to live no one's life but my own. I'm trying not to worry about what others may think, how they may judge me and find me lacking. I'm trying not to concern myself with dogmas and with prejudice, because all of this rubbish only holds me back from following this path as it leads me to a new sort of life.
I'm an adult now. It's time to start living like one. To embrace the life God has given me, to embrace the experiences He has put in my path, and to full heartedly serve Him with everything I am, not everything I think I should be or with everything I once was. But with everything I am. This, I believe, is my calling, and it's not easy.
I am reminded, though, that no one ever said it'd be easy.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Ever had one of those times in life where the sweet was bitter and the bitter was sweet, to such an extent that ups were down and downs were up? Today I feel like that. "Oh crap oh crap oh crap" plays repeatedly in my head and my emotions careen between between bitter and sweet and a terrifying mixture of both with more speed than a 747. I swallow the emotion in order to function. I fight against cliches because they don't do me a bit of good. And I paste on a smile because there's really nothing else for me to do.
But part of me is not okay. I'm terrified. I'm graduating in 4 months and my safety net of here and now will be shattered. The future will await. The future with all its decisions and unknowns. And in crashes the bittersweet. The weight of decisions, the burden of commitment, the knowledge that the future is very much mine.
I wish I could just sit around and let life happen.
But part of me is not okay. I'm terrified. I'm graduating in 4 months and my safety net of here and now will be shattered. The future will await. The future with all its decisions and unknowns. And in crashes the bittersweet. The weight of decisions, the burden of commitment, the knowledge that the future is very much mine.
I wish I could just sit around and let life happen.
Friday, February 10, 2012
i must go
When I was little, I read the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder more than once. One thing that sticks out to me was the idea of Pa being continually pulled West by a sense of adventure...an addiction he couldn't satisfy no matter how great his current location.
"Follow Love" by FFH
So tonight I applied to a job in Homer, Alaska.
I feel like Pa.
I love Bellingham; don't get me wrong. Part of me wishes the end of my time here wasn't so close.
The other part of me feels like this:
"Follow Love" by FFH
I'm gonna miss the simple town full of memories
I'm gonna miss just hanging out with all my friends
The rainy days and summer nights
Skipping stones by the river side
But i know.. its time to go
I'm gonna miss just hanging out with all my friends
The rainy days and summer nights
Skipping stones by the river side
But i know.. its time to go
So heres goodbye heres so long
I must go and follow love
I feel my heart moving on
I must go and follow love
Carry on while I'm gone
This is what i've been dreaming of
I miss you so
But i must go, go and follow love
I must go and follow love
I feel my heart moving on
I must go and follow love
Carry on while I'm gone
This is what i've been dreaming of
I miss you so
But i must go, go and follow love
I've got a heart thats full of dreams
and a little bit of crazy
I can feel it pulling me to somewhere i have never been
I'm packing up and leaving home
To travel into the great unknown
Its time, i have to go
and a little bit of crazy
I can feel it pulling me to somewhere i have never been
I'm packing up and leaving home
To travel into the great unknown
Its time, i have to go
So heres goodbye heres so long
I must go and follow love
I feel my heart moving on
I must go and follow love
Carry on while I'm gone
This is what i've been dreaming of
I miss you so
But i must go, go and follow love
I must go and follow love
I feel my heart moving on
I must go and follow love
Carry on while I'm gone
This is what i've been dreaming of
I miss you so
But i must go, go and follow love
Were not guarranted tomorrow
So we must just keep on living for the day
and make the most of every moment
every step along the way...oh
So we must just keep on living for the day
and make the most of every moment
every step along the way...oh
So heres goodbye heres so long
I must go and follow love
I feel my heart moving on
I must go and follow love
Carry on while I'm gone
This is what i've been dreaming of
I miss you so
But i must go, go and follow love
I must go and follow love
I feel my heart moving on
I must go and follow love
Carry on while I'm gone
This is what i've been dreaming of
I miss you so
But i must go, go and follow love
I must go, go and follow love
Ya know, I think I feel myself checking out of the Pacific Northwest mentally and emotionally. I'm ready for my next adventure, I do believe. It will break my heart to leave - and yet, I feel the pull to something new and crazy.
So tonight I applied to a job in Homer, Alaska.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
discernment can be so overwhelming. questions as simple as "what is life really all about?" plague me with a consistency that is frightening. as i try to distinguish between the absolutes and the variables, between the falsehoods I have assumed to be true and the truths I have assumed to be false, i am reminded again and again of how ridiculous the attempt is to claim certainty, how ridiculous it is to say "this will be your experience; this is what to expect." this road i'm walking is anything but expected, even rather unwelcome. it's filled with joy, but it's also filled with terrible fear and uncertainty. what if i got it all wrong? what if i will continue to get it all wrong?
Monday, February 6, 2012
the awakening
as my eyes begin to open
and i take in the morning
yesterday's rain is through
replaced by a glistening layer of dew
i awake
i run, i leap, i twirl, i dance
i sing with arms outstretched to the sky
it's all so very clear
what was once far is now near
i awake
as the fears of yesterday
evaporate into the joys of today
as the wall of yesterday's sorrow
becomes today's vista to tomorrow
i awake
and i take in the morning
yesterday's rain is through
replaced by a glistening layer of dew
i awake
i run, i leap, i twirl, i dance
i sing with arms outstretched to the sky
it's all so very clear
what was once far is now near
i awake
as the fears of yesterday
evaporate into the joys of today
as the wall of yesterday's sorrow
becomes today's vista to tomorrow
i awake
guilt by association
I'm so incredibly disheartened to say this, but when I run into racism, it is often coming from Christians. I've been thinking a lot about this recently, and so when I ran across this blog post, I found it timely. Most of the time when I run across it, it is seemingly harmless or unintentional, or may (like I would argue in the case of the film Courageous) be an attempt to avoid racism that ends up raising more questions than it answers. But all the time it breaks my heart.
What does one do when someone who "means well" says something offensive? Is it okay for me to let it slide as long as I don't succumb to the same thought patterns? My silence speaks volumes, though; my silence is my tacit agreement.
Christianity politicized; Christianity filled with anger, hate, and prejudice; Christianity afraid of truth: these are all things that I encounter on a regular basis - things that shake me to my core and that leave me wondering where to turn and what to do. Do I pull a 1 Corinthians 5:11? I would hope not.
And yet, I cannot remain silent.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
looking back
So tonight I decided to take a journey back into my past, and was reading an old blog that allowed me to set privacy settings for each individual post. This allowed me a rare amount of honesty in posting, because I was often posting so that only I could see it.
I haven't posted in that blog for over two years, and haven't read it in forever, either, so it was a rather emotional experience to relive it all.
I was struck by just how different I was as recently as 2009. My spirituality was simultaneously more apparently strong and obviously weak. I was terrified of academia and the changes it had wrought in me, and yet I still looked for God's presence in the summer camp counselor sort of way. I wrote a ton of prayers in that blog, and many of them begged God to make an appearance, to speak to me, to tell me what to do. As I struggled through the darkest time of my life to date, my faith carried me, and yet the manner of my faith was part of what brought me into the darkness in the first place.
Just what was the problem?
I counted my emotions as evidence of God. It's as simple as that, really. When I was feeling positive emotions, it was usually because I felt as if God was there. When things weren't so good, I railed at God for his absence. It created a huge problem when life got complicated and when the nature of my academic training left me less susceptible to emotional experiences. "Worship" got more and more difficult to engage in - with each passing month I found it harder to abandon my intellect.
And as the pressures of life pressed in, my faith came back. But only as a response to crisis. As my relationships fell to pieces around me and I was experiencing more pain than I had ever experienced before, I found God to be "present." It was only with distance from the pain that I was able to really appreciate the aftermath of my liberal arts education.
It's not that I don't think God is present. I do think He is. I think He is a very real presence. But I don't believe that my emotional state can be equated to God's voice. And this has a very real impact on my spiritual life. Worship through music changes as emotional fervor is no longer the goal. I strive to serve God, but I guess I'm just more reasoned about it all, and less emotional. In some ways it's a hard shift to make, and I don't know that it's the only right trajectory of faith. But it has been my path.
On a side note, intense emotional pain definitely brought out the poet in me. I wrote this in 2009:
I stand alone
broken in a world
where all are whole
unable to reach out
for shame of my failure
to measure up
to their standard
I am unable to
see their failure
through my rose colored
glasses that humble me
to the point of pride.
If only I would look up
and see Him in His
beauty and realize
that all is broken in the light
of His glory
and reach out.
and this:
I haven't posted in that blog for over two years, and haven't read it in forever, either, so it was a rather emotional experience to relive it all.
I was struck by just how different I was as recently as 2009. My spirituality was simultaneously more apparently strong and obviously weak. I was terrified of academia and the changes it had wrought in me, and yet I still looked for God's presence in the summer camp counselor sort of way. I wrote a ton of prayers in that blog, and many of them begged God to make an appearance, to speak to me, to tell me what to do. As I struggled through the darkest time of my life to date, my faith carried me, and yet the manner of my faith was part of what brought me into the darkness in the first place.
Just what was the problem?
I counted my emotions as evidence of God. It's as simple as that, really. When I was feeling positive emotions, it was usually because I felt as if God was there. When things weren't so good, I railed at God for his absence. It created a huge problem when life got complicated and when the nature of my academic training left me less susceptible to emotional experiences. "Worship" got more and more difficult to engage in - with each passing month I found it harder to abandon my intellect.
And as the pressures of life pressed in, my faith came back. But only as a response to crisis. As my relationships fell to pieces around me and I was experiencing more pain than I had ever experienced before, I found God to be "present." It was only with distance from the pain that I was able to really appreciate the aftermath of my liberal arts education.
It's not that I don't think God is present. I do think He is. I think He is a very real presence. But I don't believe that my emotional state can be equated to God's voice. And this has a very real impact on my spiritual life. Worship through music changes as emotional fervor is no longer the goal. I strive to serve God, but I guess I'm just more reasoned about it all, and less emotional. In some ways it's a hard shift to make, and I don't know that it's the only right trajectory of faith. But it has been my path.
On a side note, intense emotional pain definitely brought out the poet in me. I wrote this in 2009:
I stand alone
broken in a world
where all are whole
unable to reach out
for shame of my failure
to measure up
to their standard
I am unable to
see their failure
through my rose colored
glasses that humble me
to the point of pride.
If only I would look up
and see Him in His
beauty and realize
that all is broken in the light
of His glory
and reach out.
and this:
Sunglasses will never be thick enough
To hide my eyes
I could spend the rest of my life
building a fortress
attempting some sort of anonymity
and still you'd be there
knowing me exactly
words superfluous..
I couldn't hide if I wanted to
Cuz you see right through me.
To hide my eyes
I could spend the rest of my life
building a fortress
attempting some sort of anonymity
and still you'd be there
knowing me exactly
words superfluous..
I couldn't hide if I wanted to
Cuz you see right through me.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
here and now
I grow and I change and I realize just how stupid I have been. I look into the future from the perspective of the present and realize just how crazy life is. Just how far I've come, and just how much I'm grateful for every painful step of the way, because it brought me here, to this moment. For in this moment is indescribable peace and joy. Joy of belonging, and joy for what life will bring. Not because I have any idea, but because here it is good. Here it is right.
I'm just one step along the way toward the end goal, just a few tears have fallen, many will come. I will make mistakes, I will fall. I will destroy things. But I'll pick myself up again, confident in the grace of God. I will cry, and I will plead. I will find seemingly insurmountable frustration and pain.
And yet, in living life for today, and for the joy that is present in the here and now, I find indescribable peace. Despite what could and might and will happen, I'm here. I'm now. And tomorrow will take care of itself. It always has, it always will. Yesterday, today was tomorrow. Yesterday, today was full of uncertainty. Today it is here. One day older, one day wiser. One day closer.
Learning to live for today isn't easy. I seek control, always I want to know what tomorrow will bring. But knowledge is naught but pain. Because tomorrow is tomorrow, and today is today. Today is God's, and so is tomorrow. Mine is only today.
I'm just one step along the way toward the end goal, just a few tears have fallen, many will come. I will make mistakes, I will fall. I will destroy things. But I'll pick myself up again, confident in the grace of God. I will cry, and I will plead. I will find seemingly insurmountable frustration and pain.
And yet, in living life for today, and for the joy that is present in the here and now, I find indescribable peace. Despite what could and might and will happen, I'm here. I'm now. And tomorrow will take care of itself. It always has, it always will. Yesterday, today was tomorrow. Yesterday, today was full of uncertainty. Today it is here. One day older, one day wiser. One day closer.
Learning to live for today isn't easy. I seek control, always I want to know what tomorrow will bring. But knowledge is naught but pain. Because tomorrow is tomorrow, and today is today. Today is God's, and so is tomorrow. Mine is only today.
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