This is it, what is probably my last post for a couple of weeks. I'll miss the blog world, but only kind of, cause I'm going to hang out in the real world, with a bunch of my favorite people in the world, hopefully encountering God.
I leave tomorrow morning. Early. Like 6am early. Which is kind of gross, but I'm hoping I'll sleep a bit on the bus. Mexico. YES!
I'm excited. Still pretty apprehensive, but excited. God keeps reminding me of his faithfulness, and I'm working to rest in that.
If you're interested in what we're doing, you can check out this blog. I'm not responsible for it, but supposedly it's going to be updated regularly while we're gone.
I'll be back sometime on April 3rd. And then I'll be thrown into job-hunting, as my hours have been completely eliminated from April's schedule due to problems within the company. I was going to job-hunt anyway, but I was kind of hoping that I would have the cushion of some hours at my present job to pay the bills until I find a new one. Oh, well... can't do anything about it for the next couple weeks, except pray, and I'll do that anyway!
See you April 3rd!
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Taking Back Ground
It hit me last night that this trip to Mexico is a lot about taking back some ground in my life. And here's the thing - I'm not naturally too much of a warrior personality when it comes to my own life. I will fight to the limits of my ability and strength for a friend or family member who is broken or hurting, but I am not so good at fighting for my own life and soul.
But this trip is about taking back ground. It is about fighting the fear that has kept me from doing so many things over the course of my life. It is about recognizing that I can serve God and even call it missions, and that it doesn't have to look like what my dad calls missions, or what he would necessarily approve of 100%.
God has reminded me over the past couple days of how closely His provision and calling for this trip resembles his provision and calling for a camp that I staffed approximately five years ago, right out of high school. I was terrified to make that trip, too. But God sent the money my way, and the time off work came through. I wasn't even supposed to be allowed to staff that particular camp, because I'd never attended as a camper. But everything came through, and I found myself living at "Malibu" - a gorgeous Young Life camp on the West Coast of Canada, accessible only by boat.
And it was a difficult three weeks. But looking back, I can name one specific moment when I knew that I had been right in obeying God's calling.
I walked into our staff lounge one afternoon to find a co-worker sitting on the floor and crying. I sat and talked with her, and she was going through a really rough time. She had left a pretty rough background to come and work at camp, was in nicotine withdrawal because staff weren't allowed to smoke, and she'd quit cold turkey to come and be a staffer. There was a list of stuff going on. And as I sat and listened to her, this thought kept playing through my head, "you need to tell her your mom's story."
Now, keep in mind I am a conservative pastor's daughter. And this was five years ago, and God just didn't "speak" to me. But I couldn't shake the thought, so I kind of looked at her and said, "I don't really know why, but I think I'm supposed to share my mom's story with you."
So I told her that my mom comes from a very abusive background, that from the age of 2 or 3 on she was sexually abused. That emotional and physical abuse where also common in her home. I told this friend that my mom had gone on a date once in junior high school, and once in high school, and both times experienced date rape. I told her that God was healing my mom, that He was faithful, that He found my mom, and that He brought my dad into her life.
And then I left the room. Our conversation was over. Later that day, my friend came and found me. "I know why you were supposed to tell me that story."
"Oh yeah? why?"
"Because that's my story - the abuse and the rape."
And all I could do was hug her, and later I wept. Because God had ordained something I never expected. And all these years later, I can't name one good reason that I worked at that camp that summer other than that moment. Quite honestly, I was pretty miserable while I was there, fighting a lot of the same fear battles I'm anticipating entering into again this trip. But God intervened that day, and placed me there to encourage this girl. I haven't spoken with her since - never heard from her again after the day we all left the camp to go back to our respective cities. But I have known clearly for five years that I met God and heard His voice that day.
And as I've prayed and worried over this trip to Mexico this week, God keeps reminding me of that last trip. Of the fact that I was reluctant and terrified, but that I chose to obey, and that He spoke because of it.
I know God in a so much deeper way now. Five years of depression and an experience of healing that is undeniable can do that to a girl. I'm still afraid to make this trip, but I feel like God is telling me that it is about taking back ground. That much in the same way He showed up five years ago, He will show up for me again. And I can rest in that knowledge - in the truth of His faithfulness.
But this trip is about taking back ground. It is about fighting the fear that has kept me from doing so many things over the course of my life. It is about recognizing that I can serve God and even call it missions, and that it doesn't have to look like what my dad calls missions, or what he would necessarily approve of 100%.
God has reminded me over the past couple days of how closely His provision and calling for this trip resembles his provision and calling for a camp that I staffed approximately five years ago, right out of high school. I was terrified to make that trip, too. But God sent the money my way, and the time off work came through. I wasn't even supposed to be allowed to staff that particular camp, because I'd never attended as a camper. But everything came through, and I found myself living at "Malibu" - a gorgeous Young Life camp on the West Coast of Canada, accessible only by boat.
And it was a difficult three weeks. But looking back, I can name one specific moment when I knew that I had been right in obeying God's calling.
I walked into our staff lounge one afternoon to find a co-worker sitting on the floor and crying. I sat and talked with her, and she was going through a really rough time. She had left a pretty rough background to come and work at camp, was in nicotine withdrawal because staff weren't allowed to smoke, and she'd quit cold turkey to come and be a staffer. There was a list of stuff going on. And as I sat and listened to her, this thought kept playing through my head, "you need to tell her your mom's story."
Now, keep in mind I am a conservative pastor's daughter. And this was five years ago, and God just didn't "speak" to me. But I couldn't shake the thought, so I kind of looked at her and said, "I don't really know why, but I think I'm supposed to share my mom's story with you."
So I told her that my mom comes from a very abusive background, that from the age of 2 or 3 on she was sexually abused. That emotional and physical abuse where also common in her home. I told this friend that my mom had gone on a date once in junior high school, and once in high school, and both times experienced date rape. I told her that God was healing my mom, that He was faithful, that He found my mom, and that He brought my dad into her life.
And then I left the room. Our conversation was over. Later that day, my friend came and found me. "I know why you were supposed to tell me that story."
"Oh yeah? why?"
"Because that's my story - the abuse and the rape."
And all I could do was hug her, and later I wept. Because God had ordained something I never expected. And all these years later, I can't name one good reason that I worked at that camp that summer other than that moment. Quite honestly, I was pretty miserable while I was there, fighting a lot of the same fear battles I'm anticipating entering into again this trip. But God intervened that day, and placed me there to encourage this girl. I haven't spoken with her since - never heard from her again after the day we all left the camp to go back to our respective cities. But I have known clearly for five years that I met God and heard His voice that day.
And as I've prayed and worried over this trip to Mexico this week, God keeps reminding me of that last trip. Of the fact that I was reluctant and terrified, but that I chose to obey, and that He spoke because of it.
I know God in a so much deeper way now. Five years of depression and an experience of healing that is undeniable can do that to a girl. I'm still afraid to make this trip, but I feel like God is telling me that it is about taking back ground. That much in the same way He showed up five years ago, He will show up for me again. And I can rest in that knowledge - in the truth of His faithfulness.
A million and one...
This is going to be one of those "deeply profound" posts that masquerades as a random bullet point list of thoughts. No. Really.
Okay, I'm done with the sarcasm now. I just need to make a list. Lists are comforting to me, and I thought that if I promised it would be profound, you'd all read it too! (Ooops...guess I wasn't quite done with the sarcasm...) I feel like I've been running around this week like a chicken with its head cut off - with a million and one things to do and a million and one things on my brain, and in an effort to bring order, I'm putting them in a list.
Okay, I'm done with the sarcasm now. I just need to make a list. Lists are comforting to me, and I thought that if I promised it would be profound, you'd all read it too! (Ooops...guess I wasn't quite done with the sarcasm...) I feel like I've been running around this week like a chicken with its head cut off - with a million and one things to do and a million and one things on my brain, and in an effort to bring order, I'm putting them in a list.
- I need to phone my aunt. I need to borrow a money belt from her to keep my passport and money for the trip in.
- I need to photocopy my passport, and leave a copy of it with my parents. Our family learned the value of this precaution the hard way a couple years ago when all of my dad's bags were stolen from the trunk of a car within hours of his arriving in West Africa on one of the teaching trips he made. It helped greatly in the replacing of his passport on short notice that we had the a copy of the passport and passport number sitting in a file here.
- I need to email three friends. Dana. Sheri. Kari.
- I need to do laundry.
- I have to work for four hours tonight with my least favorite coworker.
- I need to start packing.
- I need to drive my brother to work at noon.
- I need to stop and spend some God time - praying for the next couple days, and for the trip.
- I need to do a bit of journalling, and possibly send another email setting up a time to sit down and chat about some stuff with a new friend when I get back.
- I need to remember that God is faithful. That I have slept somewhat more restfully these past two nights, and that He will be faithful even if it feels really awful while I'm away.
- I need to tell you that while I'm gone, you can read about our trip on this blog. I probably won't be writing there, but you'll get at least a bit of an idea of what we're up to.
Monday, March 20, 2006
a trust thing
I'm sitting here, staring at my computer screen, and thinking, "I should write." I'm really unsettled still, although I did sleep a bit better last night, thank God. I have a mostly instrumental jazz album, put out by a really talented pianist named Mike Janzen playing on my stereo, and I'm sitting here and thinking, and staring at my screen, and trying to wrap words around thoughts I can't pinpoint and ideas I don't understand.
Last night was interesting, I suppose. It was, well, church. To be honest, in retrospect, I wish I'd gone to the Steve Bell concert with my brother instead, but it seemed important to be at the "family meeting." Long. That would be a good word to describe it. And there were faces missing in the group - people who've been around for a long time who couldn't make it for the evening, or are now heading in other directions, and that made me sad in some ways.
I had the chance to chat with Nolan and Faye, and that was fun. Showed a few people my art piece from this week, and that was kind of fun too.
The pub afterwards was good - just four of us girls, talking about life and work and God and boys and telling stories. Why was an hour in the pub far more meaningful and significant to my evening than a five hour "family meeting" at church?
I drove a friend home, and she told me something that made me smile and laugh and feel totally uncomfortable at the same time. God wants her to share her story. Which doesn't surprise me, because her story is great. What grabbed me is that God asked the same thing of me a couple months back, and I started to do it - but then I told someone who had journeyed with me fairly closely at times over the space of a couple of years, and that person very much minimized my experience of healing, destroyed any trust I had in them, and has left me questioning a number of things about my relationship to the church I have been calling home for the last three years. And, when my story of healing was minimized, I was silenced. I lost the desire to tell others - yeah, I've told good friends here and there, but I am afraid to tell the world at large - it's easier to sit in silence than to face the rejection of unhearing ears. And yet, at the same time I want to shout from the rooftops this thing that God has done in my life. I want to stand and give testimony to the healing love of Jesus. I want to tell the world that He was faithful through years of depression, and one night, He reached down and rescued me from that pit. I want to tell them that healing doesn't necessarily mean tidiness - that my healing has resulted in a life that is completely off balance, totally messy, and worth every second.
I'm thinking a lot about Mexico. Praying a lot for this trip, because I'm really scared to make it. It's a trust issue. In a whole lot of ways. Do I trust some people who've hurt me, but are playing a leadership role on this trip? Do I trust God to uphold me and help me combat these fears?
There are a lot of issues involved in this trip for me. I've avoided anything that could be labeled "missions" for a lot of years. Because short-term missions is really tied up in my relationship with my dad, and that's not always such an easy thing for me. He has definite opinions, is disappointed that I felt God calling me to Mexico, instead of on a team to Ukraine with my dad and brother and another man from my dad's church. When you add to that mess my fear thing - this thing that I can't explain and don't seem to have a lot of skill at combating, it could be a crazy trip. And one of my very "messy" friends is traveling with us, and that scares me too. Because I can't help wonder how much she'll need me, and how much of my emotional, physical and spiritual energy will be tied up in fighting my own battles for freedom on this trip.
I came home last night and found the CDs my brother purchased at my request at the Steve Bell concert. I lay in bed (avoiding sleep - and the unsettled awakenings) and listened to the music and read lyric sheets. Steve's latest album is covers of Bruce Cockburn's music, and I was caught by the following lyric (incidentally, if you love liturgical, reflective music, with a strong scriptural component, you must check out Steve's music):
Gone from mystery into mystery
Gone from daylight into night
Another step deeper into darkness
Closer to the light
God, I feel like I'm stepping into darkness as I make this trip. My heart's cry is that the step will be on that is closer to You.
Last night was interesting, I suppose. It was, well, church. To be honest, in retrospect, I wish I'd gone to the Steve Bell concert with my brother instead, but it seemed important to be at the "family meeting." Long. That would be a good word to describe it. And there were faces missing in the group - people who've been around for a long time who couldn't make it for the evening, or are now heading in other directions, and that made me sad in some ways.
I had the chance to chat with Nolan and Faye, and that was fun. Showed a few people my art piece from this week, and that was kind of fun too.
The pub afterwards was good - just four of us girls, talking about life and work and God and boys and telling stories. Why was an hour in the pub far more meaningful and significant to my evening than a five hour "family meeting" at church?
I drove a friend home, and she told me something that made me smile and laugh and feel totally uncomfortable at the same time. God wants her to share her story. Which doesn't surprise me, because her story is great. What grabbed me is that God asked the same thing of me a couple months back, and I started to do it - but then I told someone who had journeyed with me fairly closely at times over the space of a couple of years, and that person very much minimized my experience of healing, destroyed any trust I had in them, and has left me questioning a number of things about my relationship to the church I have been calling home for the last three years. And, when my story of healing was minimized, I was silenced. I lost the desire to tell others - yeah, I've told good friends here and there, but I am afraid to tell the world at large - it's easier to sit in silence than to face the rejection of unhearing ears. And yet, at the same time I want to shout from the rooftops this thing that God has done in my life. I want to stand and give testimony to the healing love of Jesus. I want to tell the world that He was faithful through years of depression, and one night, He reached down and rescued me from that pit. I want to tell them that healing doesn't necessarily mean tidiness - that my healing has resulted in a life that is completely off balance, totally messy, and worth every second.
I'm thinking a lot about Mexico. Praying a lot for this trip, because I'm really scared to make it. It's a trust issue. In a whole lot of ways. Do I trust some people who've hurt me, but are playing a leadership role on this trip? Do I trust God to uphold me and help me combat these fears?
There are a lot of issues involved in this trip for me. I've avoided anything that could be labeled "missions" for a lot of years. Because short-term missions is really tied up in my relationship with my dad, and that's not always such an easy thing for me. He has definite opinions, is disappointed that I felt God calling me to Mexico, instead of on a team to Ukraine with my dad and brother and another man from my dad's church. When you add to that mess my fear thing - this thing that I can't explain and don't seem to have a lot of skill at combating, it could be a crazy trip. And one of my very "messy" friends is traveling with us, and that scares me too. Because I can't help wonder how much she'll need me, and how much of my emotional, physical and spiritual energy will be tied up in fighting my own battles for freedom on this trip.
I came home last night and found the CDs my brother purchased at my request at the Steve Bell concert. I lay in bed (avoiding sleep - and the unsettled awakenings) and listened to the music and read lyric sheets. Steve's latest album is covers of Bruce Cockburn's music, and I was caught by the following lyric (incidentally, if you love liturgical, reflective music, with a strong scriptural component, you must check out Steve's music):
Gone from mystery into mystery
Gone from daylight into night
Another step deeper into darkness
Closer to the light
God, I feel like I'm stepping into darkness as I make this trip. My heart's cry is that the step will be on that is closer to You.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
to us who are being saved...
The "watchword for the week" from the Moravians arrived in my email this morning and grabbed at me.
For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 1 Corinthians 1:18
God has been speaking to me about the power found in the suffering Christ lately. The messiness and beauty that it contains. And I have met those who have dismissed this aspect - who have denied the messiness of Christ's life in order to continue to live their day to day lives without acknowledging that God can be found in the messiness that they encounter in themselves or in others.
But to me, it has been an incredible release to realize the messiness of Jesus life - the messiness that culminated in his execution as a criminal - the messiness that means He bore the weight of my own messiness in order that I can be redeemed and changed. "...to us who are being saved it is the power of God." YES!
For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 1 Corinthians 1:18
God has been speaking to me about the power found in the suffering Christ lately. The messiness and beauty that it contains. And I have met those who have dismissed this aspect - who have denied the messiness of Christ's life in order to continue to live their day to day lives without acknowledging that God can be found in the messiness that they encounter in themselves or in others.
But to me, it has been an incredible release to realize the messiness of Jesus life - the messiness that culminated in his execution as a criminal - the messiness that means He bore the weight of my own messiness in order that I can be redeemed and changed. "...to us who are being saved it is the power of God." YES!
Saturday, March 18, 2006
An obvious confession
Some bloggers I know are really good at only talking about God stuff - theology, what God has recently been doing in their life, things God is speaking to them and others, challenges, stuff they're reading in Scripture. I have a confession to make. It's a fairly obvious one if you've hung around my blog at all. I am not one of those bloggers.
I do like to talk about God stuff. In fact, my life is so shaped at the moment by the God stuff that I can hardly help but talk about it. The thing is, every once in a while I need a break from the headier stuff, and need to just talk about my day.
So, here it is. Yesterday was a good day. It was a nothing sort of day. I've had a lot of those this week since I haven't had any hours at work. But yesterday was a particularly good example of one. (A friend emailed me a month or so ago and spoke very strongly to me that I needed to find ways to relax and destress other than writing. Incidentally, I've had very few work hours since then and have had lots of chances to practice what she was telling me!) I was tired, and unsettled, because of the sleep issues I mentioned when I posted yesterday, but that didn't really affect my day too drastically because I didn't need physical energy for anything in particular. (On a side note, I slept very poorly again last night, and I do need energy today, but that's a whole different thing.)
I got up in the morning, realized there was no particular reason for me to be up, and crawled back into bed with a novel. I read for a while, and then my mom came home and handed me an envelope from my nana. Nana is my adopted grandmother - a fun British lady who has attended my dad's church for years, and lives across the back alley from our house. She had sent me a note, and a cheque for my Mexico trip, but had forgotten to sign the cheque. So, I got out of bed and got dressed, phoned her and popped over to her house. We had a great visit. I love hanging out with her. She may be the coolest elderly lady I know!
I came home, decided to go back to my novel - only in the bathtub this time. So, I ran a hot bath, and read my novel for another hour or so in the tub. This is also one of my favorite ways to pass an hour or so. I'm a sucker for anything warm - you will rarely find me curled up to read without a blanket wrapped around me, or a hot bath in which to immerse myself, or without being curled up in my bed.
After reading I decided I'd better fulfill a promise I made to my mom to bake something this week. So, I made chocolate chip cookies. Fantastic.
While I was baking a friend called and asked me if I wanted to hang out with her. She was going to a Christian bookstore and wondered if I'd like to meet her there. I'd been thinking that a trip to the bookstore was in order to buy something to read on the bus to Mexico, and quickly agreed. We passed a solid hour and a bit in the bookstore, with the love that only two readers and writers can have for that kind of pastime. We handed books back and forth, were slightly catty as we discussed the overabundance of titles on topics that seemed to be straightforward, laughed at some truly bad merchandise (The Praise Workout DVD - The Christian Alternative to Yoga - I'm not kidding, that's what it said on the case!), and then decided that coffee was in order. But, it was Friday night, and the coffee houses were busy, so we went to the lounge of a local restaurant, had dinner, and talked about how God had showed up in unique ways in both of our lives lately. We share a mutual healing of depression that continues to amaze both of us.
I came home, did a little blogging, a little more reading, finished my novel, started a new one, ate some cookies, and headed for bed.
This is my kind of day - warm, inviting, filled with good pastimes and good friends. And really, when I think about it, it was a God kind of day. I spent a lot of time with Him - asking some questions that my novel raised. I worshipped Him along with a CD while I did my baking. And then I shared the things He's doing in my life, and listened to the things he's doing in my friend's life over dinner. It was good.
Now if only I could figure out how to start sleeping restfully...
I do like to talk about God stuff. In fact, my life is so shaped at the moment by the God stuff that I can hardly help but talk about it. The thing is, every once in a while I need a break from the headier stuff, and need to just talk about my day.
So, here it is. Yesterday was a good day. It was a nothing sort of day. I've had a lot of those this week since I haven't had any hours at work. But yesterday was a particularly good example of one. (A friend emailed me a month or so ago and spoke very strongly to me that I needed to find ways to relax and destress other than writing. Incidentally, I've had very few work hours since then and have had lots of chances to practice what she was telling me!) I was tired, and unsettled, because of the sleep issues I mentioned when I posted yesterday, but that didn't really affect my day too drastically because I didn't need physical energy for anything in particular. (On a side note, I slept very poorly again last night, and I do need energy today, but that's a whole different thing.)
I got up in the morning, realized there was no particular reason for me to be up, and crawled back into bed with a novel. I read for a while, and then my mom came home and handed me an envelope from my nana. Nana is my adopted grandmother - a fun British lady who has attended my dad's church for years, and lives across the back alley from our house. She had sent me a note, and a cheque for my Mexico trip, but had forgotten to sign the cheque. So, I got out of bed and got dressed, phoned her and popped over to her house. We had a great visit. I love hanging out with her. She may be the coolest elderly lady I know!
I came home, decided to go back to my novel - only in the bathtub this time. So, I ran a hot bath, and read my novel for another hour or so in the tub. This is also one of my favorite ways to pass an hour or so. I'm a sucker for anything warm - you will rarely find me curled up to read without a blanket wrapped around me, or a hot bath in which to immerse myself, or without being curled up in my bed.
After reading I decided I'd better fulfill a promise I made to my mom to bake something this week. So, I made chocolate chip cookies. Fantastic.
While I was baking a friend called and asked me if I wanted to hang out with her. She was going to a Christian bookstore and wondered if I'd like to meet her there. I'd been thinking that a trip to the bookstore was in order to buy something to read on the bus to Mexico, and quickly agreed. We passed a solid hour and a bit in the bookstore, with the love that only two readers and writers can have for that kind of pastime. We handed books back and forth, were slightly catty as we discussed the overabundance of titles on topics that seemed to be straightforward, laughed at some truly bad merchandise (The Praise Workout DVD - The Christian Alternative to Yoga - I'm not kidding, that's what it said on the case!), and then decided that coffee was in order. But, it was Friday night, and the coffee houses were busy, so we went to the lounge of a local restaurant, had dinner, and talked about how God had showed up in unique ways in both of our lives lately. We share a mutual healing of depression that continues to amaze both of us.
I came home, did a little blogging, a little more reading, finished my novel, started a new one, ate some cookies, and headed for bed.
This is my kind of day - warm, inviting, filled with good pastimes and good friends. And really, when I think about it, it was a God kind of day. I spent a lot of time with Him - asking some questions that my novel raised. I worshipped Him along with a CD while I did my baking. And then I shared the things He's doing in my life, and listened to the things he's doing in my friend's life over dinner. It was good.
Now if only I could figure out how to start sleeping restfully...
Friday, March 17, 2006
Provision and sleeplessness
I am a pastor's kid. My dad does not pastor a mega-church, and he's not a best-selling author or radio preacher. That means that I grew up in a home where finances were always tight.
But the thing is, I learned early on about Jehovah Jireh - God the provider. My parents were always clear when unexpected money showed up at just the right time, or when an unexpected gift allowed us to do something special that it was God's way of taking care of us, of treating us, of making sure we were provided for.
I have seen it dozens of times, and I always forget it. It didn't even occur to me in all my blustery financial stress last week that God would provide above and beyond my expectations for this trip to Mexico. But He did. First, my glasses were repairable - for only $100. My frame is three years old, but by some miracle they hadn't been discontinued, and I was able to replace only the broken piece.
Then, a variety of people I never expected to offer their financial support gave me money or let me know that they would be giving me money. Some of them were people I hadn't even thought or intended to ask to pray, never mind contribute financially. And God has provided above and beyond what I could have asked or expected. And I was amazed, because I had forgotten yet again that the God I serve, the God who asked me to travel to Mexico, would also provide the means for me to obey.
Which brings me to the sleeplessness. I haven't slept well at all the last couple nights. If you read this blog at all, you know that really isn't that unusual. The thing is, I'm battling anxiety attacks -unexplained fears. That is not normal in my own bed. I had anticipated that this would be a challenge when I travelled - it always is, and I was taking steps to be prepared to ward off the fear while we were travelling. But it has arrived early. Today was very unsettled because of the uncomfortable and undefined fear from which I awoke this morning. Please pray for my sleep over the remaining week until I depart. Pray too for my sleep while we're gone. The thing is, I believe God has called me to this trip, and I'm working to trust him with my whole self - and with my rest. So, I'm asking you to pray for and with me in this.
One week from tonight I will be on a church floor somewhere in Billings, Montana, attempting to sleep. I am excited to make this trip, but very apprehensive as well. Your prayers are coveted.
But the thing is, I learned early on about Jehovah Jireh - God the provider. My parents were always clear when unexpected money showed up at just the right time, or when an unexpected gift allowed us to do something special that it was God's way of taking care of us, of treating us, of making sure we were provided for.
I have seen it dozens of times, and I always forget it. It didn't even occur to me in all my blustery financial stress last week that God would provide above and beyond my expectations for this trip to Mexico. But He did. First, my glasses were repairable - for only $100. My frame is three years old, but by some miracle they hadn't been discontinued, and I was able to replace only the broken piece.
Then, a variety of people I never expected to offer their financial support gave me money or let me know that they would be giving me money. Some of them were people I hadn't even thought or intended to ask to pray, never mind contribute financially. And God has provided above and beyond what I could have asked or expected. And I was amazed, because I had forgotten yet again that the God I serve, the God who asked me to travel to Mexico, would also provide the means for me to obey.
Which brings me to the sleeplessness. I haven't slept well at all the last couple nights. If you read this blog at all, you know that really isn't that unusual. The thing is, I'm battling anxiety attacks -unexplained fears. That is not normal in my own bed. I had anticipated that this would be a challenge when I travelled - it always is, and I was taking steps to be prepared to ward off the fear while we were travelling. But it has arrived early. Today was very unsettled because of the uncomfortable and undefined fear from which I awoke this morning. Please pray for my sleep over the remaining week until I depart. Pray too for my sleep while we're gone. The thing is, I believe God has called me to this trip, and I'm working to trust him with my whole self - and with my rest. So, I'm asking you to pray for and with me in this.
One week from tonight I will be on a church floor somewhere in Billings, Montana, attempting to sleep. I am excited to make this trip, but very apprehensive as well. Your prayers are coveted.
Looking for wisdom
I’m looking for someone who has walked this way before. Someone with age and the wisdom borne of long years of experience – of trying and failing, of getting back up and trying again.
I’m young and inexperienced. Five months ago some things in my life shifted in a major way, and I’m trying to negotiate this new journey with God. I am desperate to know Him in a deeper way. To learn to recognize His voice and presence. To understand what it means that I’ve encountered the Living Spirit of God and that my life has been totally altered by the encounter.
I am looking to be taught, to be pulled along this journey by someone with experience. And I haven’t found that person. I’m looking for someone radically in love with God. I’m looking for wisdom and encouragement. For someone who will tell me that I haven’t gone crazy.
I want someone to explain this thing to me. To tell me in the moments when I’m completely exhausted from caring so deeply for those God has laid on my heart that I’m not insane for allowing my emotions to become involved.
I’m after someone who can explain spiritual warfare to me. Who can tell me how to recognize attack, and how to fight against it. Who can help me as I wade through the realities of the decidedly evil decisions made by some of those I am caring for. Who can answer questions about nightmares and sleeping difficulties. Who can teach me to combat with God’s help the instinctive fear that seems to control so very much of my life.
I would love for someone to walk through my own wounds with me. To help me identify areas of strength and areas of weakness. To teach me what it means to be emotionally and spiritually healthy.
I am looking for this. And I am afraid of it. I am afraid of my life being exposed. The idea that I am vulnerable to spiritual attack is new, and I struggle with fear already. I am very nearly afraid of beginning to wade into the realities of this new life I find myself living. It terrifies me. It pulls me beyond my much loved comfort zone. But I’m looking for it. Because life the way I used to live – life of hopelessness and depression is no way to live.
I’m young and inexperienced. Five months ago some things in my life shifted in a major way, and I’m trying to negotiate this new journey with God. I am desperate to know Him in a deeper way. To learn to recognize His voice and presence. To understand what it means that I’ve encountered the Living Spirit of God and that my life has been totally altered by the encounter.
I am looking to be taught, to be pulled along this journey by someone with experience. And I haven’t found that person. I’m looking for someone radically in love with God. I’m looking for wisdom and encouragement. For someone who will tell me that I haven’t gone crazy.
I want someone to explain this thing to me. To tell me in the moments when I’m completely exhausted from caring so deeply for those God has laid on my heart that I’m not insane for allowing my emotions to become involved.
I’m after someone who can explain spiritual warfare to me. Who can tell me how to recognize attack, and how to fight against it. Who can help me as I wade through the realities of the decidedly evil decisions made by some of those I am caring for. Who can answer questions about nightmares and sleeping difficulties. Who can teach me to combat with God’s help the instinctive fear that seems to control so very much of my life.
I would love for someone to walk through my own wounds with me. To help me identify areas of strength and areas of weakness. To teach me what it means to be emotionally and spiritually healthy.
I am looking for this. And I am afraid of it. I am afraid of my life being exposed. The idea that I am vulnerable to spiritual attack is new, and I struggle with fear already. I am very nearly afraid of beginning to wade into the realities of this new life I find myself living. It terrifies me. It pulls me beyond my much loved comfort zone. But I’m looking for it. Because life the way I used to live – life of hopelessness and depression is no way to live.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Airport Security
I just read this rather funny post on the Dilbert creator's blog... Made me laugh a little bit anyway.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
I wish you could see...
I spent most of the afternoon working on an art/scrapbook/collage project that materialized in my head yesterday. It is a visual representation of the idea of beauty in the ashes that I have been so caught by this week. And there is a phoenix rising out of the flames. I'm really pleased with how it turned out. Especially since writing is usually my medium, and I rarely branch out into artistic stuff. I wish you could all see it. But, it's multi-dimensional and 12x12 so it won't really scan very well.
So, if you live in town, call me, or email me, or just come over and see it. (Or maybe I'll bring it with me to church on Sunday night.) If you're out of town, you're out of luck, unless you want to come visit me?
So, if you live in town, call me, or email me, or just come over and see it. (Or maybe I'll bring it with me to church on Sunday night.) If you're out of town, you're out of luck, unless you want to come visit me?
Things and People I Like
I've updated my links. Here are some of the hi-lights!
- Kari's Blog - a friend of mine - I quoted from her yesterday.
- Hope's Blog - I've been loving reading about Hope's journey - since I check it almost every day I thought you might like it too!
- Cameron Conant - I quoted him today. Always quite insightful.
- Kirk's Blog - Kirk preached at our church on Sunday night. I've been loving reading his thoughts over the last while, and have often been challenged by them.
- YS Marko - a youth ministry blog - which is funny, 'cause I'm not in youth ministry exactly, or even close to it really. But I do like the things he has to say, there is often funny stuff to read or comment on, and he tends to review some good books - which I have then read and enjoyed. It was also Marko's newest tattoo that refreshed the idea of the phoenix in my brain, and allowed for God to take the image and use it powerfully for me this week.
I think that's all I've added for now - there are a few more changes coming, but what's on that sidebar is now most of the blogs I read on a daily or semi-daily basis. I love the blogging world. Since my thoughts are so shaped by writing personally, I love that blogging lets me interact with like-minded (or not so like-minded) people all over the world, or even just here at home. Reading someone's writing adds a new dimension to knowing that person, and can provide a great jumping off point to start a conversation. Plus, I tend to be fairly introverted by nature - not shy necessarily, but not likely to initiate a lot of conversations. But, hey, if you know me - come up to me an invite me to chat. Or drop me an email at the address which I will add to my profile as soon as I post this. I'd love to engage, I'm just not so hot at initiating that engagement!
Darkness and Light
I've been reading a blog written by a guy named Cameron Conant for a while now. He often has insightful things to say. You can find it here, and it will be added to my sidebar soon too.
Earlier this week he posted this quote, which caught my attention:
"To embrace weakness, liability, and darkness as part of who I am gives that part less sway over me, because all it ever wanted was to be acknowledged as part of my whole self."
--Parker Palmer, "Let Your Life Speak"
Yes! So many people I know, so many Christians I know just won't embrace that part of themselves or that part of others. I was talking with a friend last night - a friend whose calling and profession in life is also to serve the broken. Together, we were observing how few people were really willing to acknowledge the messiness or brokenness of life - of their life or of others lives. I know of a number of people who consistently interact with the homeless of Calgary - they feed them a meal, maybe give them some clothes, chat with them for the hour or two that they're on the streets each week, even occasionally buy them a bus ticket or invite them to church, but these same people have demonstrated a complete inability or willingness to acknowledge and walk through the ashes in the lives of a number of people I know within the church. When messiness is confined to the short interaction on the streets of the city it is okay. It is not okay when it begins to infringe into their homes, their conversations, their daily lives.
And yet, I cannot live anymore in a way that denies the realities of my life and of those around me. I feel I must speak up - and it scares me terribly. I am afraid of hurting people that I care for deeply. I am afraid that by speaking out - by challenging people on this issue - I will find myself alone and wandering, rejected by the church for carrying a message so many within it's walls don't seem to want to hear. But I have met Jesus in the ashes. And it has been brought home to me in such a powerful way this week.
I was sharing the image of the phoenix with my friend last night. The image of something beautiful, powerful, stately emerging from the ashes. Beauty birthed from destruction. She talked about grass - she had watched a patch of grass that had been burnt in a grass fire in a local park last summer. As the burnt area began to be covered with grass again, it was much greener than the unburnt areas around it. I like that image as well - strength and vitality and beauty coming where there had been only destruction.
I am so grateful that when God began to call me to this place of serving the broken, of caring deeply, of allowing my emotions to be affected by the suffering of these people, He did not ask me to walk alone. I have been blessed innumberably by friendships that I never expected - people who have been around my church for years, even someone within my homechurch who I had never connected with - people who share this heart for the broken. I am so grateful for these people who assure me on a weekly basis that I have not gone insane to give my heart to this thing that God has lead me into. People who understand the need to pray protection over each others' lives as we walk through the pits of evil at times. People who know how much a hug or a smile can mean in a week that has been marked by the realities of evil. To those of you who have been walking through this journey with me over the last while, I really, really want to say thank you. You've been bright spots - expressions of beauty amidst ashes.
Earlier this week he posted this quote, which caught my attention:
"To embrace weakness, liability, and darkness as part of who I am gives that part less sway over me, because all it ever wanted was to be acknowledged as part of my whole self."
--Parker Palmer, "Let Your Life Speak"
Yes! So many people I know, so many Christians I know just won't embrace that part of themselves or that part of others. I was talking with a friend last night - a friend whose calling and profession in life is also to serve the broken. Together, we were observing how few people were really willing to acknowledge the messiness or brokenness of life - of their life or of others lives. I know of a number of people who consistently interact with the homeless of Calgary - they feed them a meal, maybe give them some clothes, chat with them for the hour or two that they're on the streets each week, even occasionally buy them a bus ticket or invite them to church, but these same people have demonstrated a complete inability or willingness to acknowledge and walk through the ashes in the lives of a number of people I know within the church. When messiness is confined to the short interaction on the streets of the city it is okay. It is not okay when it begins to infringe into their homes, their conversations, their daily lives.
And yet, I cannot live anymore in a way that denies the realities of my life and of those around me. I feel I must speak up - and it scares me terribly. I am afraid of hurting people that I care for deeply. I am afraid that by speaking out - by challenging people on this issue - I will find myself alone and wandering, rejected by the church for carrying a message so many within it's walls don't seem to want to hear. But I have met Jesus in the ashes. And it has been brought home to me in such a powerful way this week.
I was sharing the image of the phoenix with my friend last night. The image of something beautiful, powerful, stately emerging from the ashes. Beauty birthed from destruction. She talked about grass - she had watched a patch of grass that had been burnt in a grass fire in a local park last summer. As the burnt area began to be covered with grass again, it was much greener than the unburnt areas around it. I like that image as well - strength and vitality and beauty coming where there had been only destruction.
I am so grateful that when God began to call me to this place of serving the broken, of caring deeply, of allowing my emotions to be affected by the suffering of these people, He did not ask me to walk alone. I have been blessed innumberably by friendships that I never expected - people who have been around my church for years, even someone within my homechurch who I had never connected with - people who share this heart for the broken. I am so grateful for these people who assure me on a weekly basis that I have not gone insane to give my heart to this thing that God has lead me into. People who understand the need to pray protection over each others' lives as we walk through the pits of evil at times. People who know how much a hug or a smile can mean in a week that has been marked by the realities of evil. To those of you who have been walking through this journey with me over the last while, I really, really want to say thank you. You've been bright spots - expressions of beauty amidst ashes.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
A little bit more on Sunday night...
My friend Kari has a blog. You can find it here. I'll be adding it to the links on my sidebar in the next couple of days, but I wanted to draw your attention to her most recent entry. She was writing about the service Sunday night. Kari was one of the singers for the performance art piece that so grabbed me.
In the entry, towards the end, she wrote the following which felt so very profound to me - so much an expression of some of the thoughts and feelings I have encountered over the last while: "So, much of my experience in the church community this year has been an act of ” holding back the lament, of minimizing the wail in my own heart” linked to the loss of my mom, some friendships, church life. I’m just thankful for the expression of art that speaks of the combination. It gives permission to let the cries of the undone come out. It speaks the unspoken truth, it releases, it gets messy and it’s not afraid."
Thanks, Kari, for being part of this journey with me. Thanks for smiles and hugs and encouragement, and a heart that understands the beauty that can be found in the ashes.
In the entry, towards the end, she wrote the following which felt so very profound to me - so much an expression of some of the thoughts and feelings I have encountered over the last while: "So, much of my experience in the church community this year has been an act of ” holding back the lament, of minimizing the wail in my own heart” linked to the loss of my mom, some friendships, church life. I’m just thankful for the expression of art that speaks of the combination. It gives permission to let the cries of the undone come out. It speaks the unspoken truth, it releases, it gets messy and it’s not afraid."
Thanks, Kari, for being part of this journey with me. Thanks for smiles and hugs and encouragement, and a heart that understands the beauty that can be found in the ashes.
You should read this...
I was sent this story in 850 words of Relevant today... Wow!
I relate to this - to some of the things that this guy talks about, as I have walked through similar things with friends in the last months. Cutting, drugs, hospitalization/rehab - all of these are things that are becoming more familiar, more present realities in my daily life. And God keeps calling me forward, so I guess I'll just keep going...
I keep thinking about the line from the beattitudes: "Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." I am hanging out with the "poor in spirit" a lot lately, and am watching with awe as I begin to see the "kingdom of heaven" in their lives.
I relate to this - to some of the things that this guy talks about, as I have walked through similar things with friends in the last months. Cutting, drugs, hospitalization/rehab - all of these are things that are becoming more familiar, more present realities in my daily life. And God keeps calling me forward, so I guess I'll just keep going...
I keep thinking about the line from the beattitudes: "Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." I am hanging out with the "poor in spirit" a lot lately, and am watching with awe as I begin to see the "kingdom of heaven" in their lives.
Monday, March 13, 2006
In the hollow...
It always makes me smile, the way God orchestrates things. The way He opens our eyes and ears, and suddenly, the very thing that we had struggled with, the thing that had been so absent is present everywhere.
For the last week I have wrestled as I became very aware of the depths of evil in the world. I kept phoning friends and asking them why, in a world where evil had ultimately been defeated, it was winning so very many battles. No one had any better answer than I did, and I think my question made some of them uncomfortable - I think they didn't really want to see the thing that had become so startlingly clear to me as I walk through life with the people God has asked me to care for. And it has been difficult - no, nearly impossible. The sorrow was threatening to overwhelm me. A friend came to me last night, and told me that she was grateful that God had given me the grace to walk through life with these people because she would not have been able to do it. And I laughed at her, because it has felt so awkward, so pain-filled, so wrong at times - I have kept walking through the depths with these girls only because I have not sensed God's release from this calling - His permission to draw back.
I spent the week meditating on the idea of looking for God amidst the messy, amidst the evil. On not seeing God only in the big and powerful moments, but in the tiny ones as well. All week I looked for Him and saw only ashes, dirt. Except for a few brief moments when I saw the suffering Jesus. For the moments when, as my heart broke at the realities of evil, I was reminded of the Savior hanging on a cross, His heart breaking, His father's heart breaking as He bore the weight of evil in my place. And those moments were powerful, but fleeting.
And so, I walked into church last night expecting so very little. We are a church full of artists, musicians and dancers, and I am a writer and an introverted one at that. I have felt that I am without a voice at our church the last while, growing intensely frustrated with a number of things, but I keep going because, three years in I have finally developed relationships that are growing into deep and meaningful things.
And last night, I knew from the moment I walked in and saw some friends rehearsing that it would be a night filled with artistic expression. So I sat on the floor at the front, next to a friend who was doing an art piece, and determined that I would soak, that I would somehow set aside the weight of my week, and that I would worship the suffering God who I had seen in those fleeting moments. And the service went on. And the band began to play a song about freedom. And I watched as a friend danced her worship - and I watched as she ultimately collapsed and began to pound the floor in frustration, in anger, to weep. And I knew that God was doing something. Because there was something strikingly beautiful in it. I saw God in the ashes. And then, the performance art piece - and as I sat and watched the phrase came to me "it takes the eyes of an artist to see the beauty in the messy."
And then Kirk got up to preach. And quite honestly, I'm not sure how much of what he said I actually heard. I was caught by the presence of God - I knew He was moving, and I don't really know where exactly, but I could sense His presence heavily, and I mostly wanted to weep. I remember snippets of stories. I remember him telling of his family background, and wanting to weep yet again, because I know this sort of background - I have come from it, and I daily walk life with people who come from it. I remember him reading the passage from Isaiah 43 that talks about God doing a new thing, about making pathways in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland to refresh his people. I remember that because the passage is a favorite - one I have returned to as God has done this thing in my life over the last five months. And I remember him telling us that our church was called not only to the world, but back to the church. And I loved that. Because I have struggled in a church that is constantly sending people to the mission fields of the world. For years and years, from long before God stepped into my life in a crazy new way in November, my heart's passion has been for the local church body. When God stepped into my life in November, He renewed that passion and calling. I am not called to the world, I am called to the church. I am called to bring healing, to bind wounds, and to restore and renew the people of the church. And I have no idea how that is going to play out on a practical level, but it burst in me again with intensity when Kirk preached that to our church.
On Tuesday night at house church, I penned the following prayer in my journal. "Jesus, my heart hurts. Hold me. Help me in the midst of this place. I am Yours."
On Friday night I copied a Rik Leaf/David Ruis lyric into my journal:
Will You heal the scars
too painful to touch?
Will You wrestle my thoughts
back from the dark?
Will You make my walls
salvation and peace
and let me in through the
gates of praise?
Last night I watched as God broke through. And maybe I was the only one who saw it. Or maybe it was just that I was desperately looking for it in my life this week. Or maybe everyone saw it differently. But He broke through. The phoenix rising to new life from the ashes.
I've just put a whole lot of words around something that feels intangible - that feels that it defies description. But it was good. And I expect that I will continue to soak in it as the thoughts that swirl in my heart begin to be absorbed.
This morning I got my usual daily email from the Moravians. Two scriptures and a prayer. The prayer caught me this morning - reinforcing the things that God has begun to speak, begun to do. The things that He has opened my eyes to see and my ears to hear. It said:
"Lord, thank you for your loving care. When we are weak, hurting, or troubled, help us to remember that you hold us in the hollow of your hand, and you will not let us fall. We pray in Jesus' name. Amen."
I rest in the hollow of His hand, even amidst the ashes He will not let me fall.
For the last week I have wrestled as I became very aware of the depths of evil in the world. I kept phoning friends and asking them why, in a world where evil had ultimately been defeated, it was winning so very many battles. No one had any better answer than I did, and I think my question made some of them uncomfortable - I think they didn't really want to see the thing that had become so startlingly clear to me as I walk through life with the people God has asked me to care for. And it has been difficult - no, nearly impossible. The sorrow was threatening to overwhelm me. A friend came to me last night, and told me that she was grateful that God had given me the grace to walk through life with these people because she would not have been able to do it. And I laughed at her, because it has felt so awkward, so pain-filled, so wrong at times - I have kept walking through the depths with these girls only because I have not sensed God's release from this calling - His permission to draw back.
I spent the week meditating on the idea of looking for God amidst the messy, amidst the evil. On not seeing God only in the big and powerful moments, but in the tiny ones as well. All week I looked for Him and saw only ashes, dirt. Except for a few brief moments when I saw the suffering Jesus. For the moments when, as my heart broke at the realities of evil, I was reminded of the Savior hanging on a cross, His heart breaking, His father's heart breaking as He bore the weight of evil in my place. And those moments were powerful, but fleeting.
And so, I walked into church last night expecting so very little. We are a church full of artists, musicians and dancers, and I am a writer and an introverted one at that. I have felt that I am without a voice at our church the last while, growing intensely frustrated with a number of things, but I keep going because, three years in I have finally developed relationships that are growing into deep and meaningful things.
And last night, I knew from the moment I walked in and saw some friends rehearsing that it would be a night filled with artistic expression. So I sat on the floor at the front, next to a friend who was doing an art piece, and determined that I would soak, that I would somehow set aside the weight of my week, and that I would worship the suffering God who I had seen in those fleeting moments. And the service went on. And the band began to play a song about freedom. And I watched as a friend danced her worship - and I watched as she ultimately collapsed and began to pound the floor in frustration, in anger, to weep. And I knew that God was doing something. Because there was something strikingly beautiful in it. I saw God in the ashes. And then, the performance art piece - and as I sat and watched the phrase came to me "it takes the eyes of an artist to see the beauty in the messy."
And then Kirk got up to preach. And quite honestly, I'm not sure how much of what he said I actually heard. I was caught by the presence of God - I knew He was moving, and I don't really know where exactly, but I could sense His presence heavily, and I mostly wanted to weep. I remember snippets of stories. I remember him telling of his family background, and wanting to weep yet again, because I know this sort of background - I have come from it, and I daily walk life with people who come from it. I remember him reading the passage from Isaiah 43 that talks about God doing a new thing, about making pathways in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland to refresh his people. I remember that because the passage is a favorite - one I have returned to as God has done this thing in my life over the last five months. And I remember him telling us that our church was called not only to the world, but back to the church. And I loved that. Because I have struggled in a church that is constantly sending people to the mission fields of the world. For years and years, from long before God stepped into my life in a crazy new way in November, my heart's passion has been for the local church body. When God stepped into my life in November, He renewed that passion and calling. I am not called to the world, I am called to the church. I am called to bring healing, to bind wounds, and to restore and renew the people of the church. And I have no idea how that is going to play out on a practical level, but it burst in me again with intensity when Kirk preached that to our church.
On Tuesday night at house church, I penned the following prayer in my journal. "Jesus, my heart hurts. Hold me. Help me in the midst of this place. I am Yours."
On Friday night I copied a Rik Leaf/David Ruis lyric into my journal:
Will You heal the scars
too painful to touch?
Will You wrestle my thoughts
back from the dark?
Will You make my walls
salvation and peace
and let me in through the
gates of praise?
Last night I watched as God broke through. And maybe I was the only one who saw it. Or maybe it was just that I was desperately looking for it in my life this week. Or maybe everyone saw it differently. But He broke through. The phoenix rising to new life from the ashes.
I've just put a whole lot of words around something that feels intangible - that feels that it defies description. But it was good. And I expect that I will continue to soak in it as the thoughts that swirl in my heart begin to be absorbed.
This morning I got my usual daily email from the Moravians. Two scriptures and a prayer. The prayer caught me this morning - reinforcing the things that God has begun to speak, begun to do. The things that He has opened my eyes to see and my ears to hear. It said:
"Lord, thank you for your loving care. When we are weak, hurting, or troubled, help us to remember that you hold us in the hollow of your hand, and you will not let us fall. We pray in Jesus' name. Amen."
I rest in the hollow of His hand, even amidst the ashes He will not let me fall.
From the ashes...
This has been an odd week, marked by my own awareness of the horrendous evil in the world. And I have wrestled all week, looking to live out the commitment I wrote here earlier this week - to look for God, to look for His beauty in the midst of the truly ugly - to find Him in the messy.
And church tonight - wow! I don't know exactly what I'm thinking. But wow! I needed to be there. At one point, after a performance art piece featuring video, and dancers and singers, I grabbed for my journal and the words began to pour out. The following is the result of a journey that God has been taking me on for months now, a journey that some friends are walking with me, a journey that has been marked by its decided messiness.
All week
wrestling
fighting
looking for beauty
in the pits of hell
I have waded through the mire
through the depths of pain
of iniquity, of sorrow and anger
too deep to comprehend
desperately searching
for the presence of God
even here
and then suddenly,
or maybe not so suddenly
like a breath of cool and calming air
beauty became clear
the situation had not changed
but my vision cleared
I waded still through
the pit of evil
but His presence was clear
unmistakable
and in it was the beauty
His presence alone
For He gives beauty for ashes...
For He lifts the needy from the ashes...
Jesus,
let your beauty and presence
rise from the ashes
like the phoenix
rising to new life.
And church tonight - wow! I don't know exactly what I'm thinking. But wow! I needed to be there. At one point, after a performance art piece featuring video, and dancers and singers, I grabbed for my journal and the words began to pour out. The following is the result of a journey that God has been taking me on for months now, a journey that some friends are walking with me, a journey that has been marked by its decided messiness.
All week
wrestling
fighting
looking for beauty
in the pits of hell
I have waded through the mire
through the depths of pain
of iniquity, of sorrow and anger
too deep to comprehend
desperately searching
for the presence of God
even here
and then suddenly,
or maybe not so suddenly
like a breath of cool and calming air
beauty became clear
the situation had not changed
but my vision cleared
I waded still through
the pit of evil
but His presence was clear
unmistakable
and in it was the beauty
His presence alone
For He gives beauty for ashes...
For He lifts the needy from the ashes...
Jesus,
let your beauty and presence
rise from the ashes
like the phoenix
rising to new life.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Personality Test
INFJ - "Author". Strong drive and enjoyment to help others. Complex personality. 1.5% of total population. |
I did a different test than this one a couple weeks back and came up with the same result. And then I started doing a little bit of reading on the subject, and was surprised how much insight into who I am and where God seems to be leading could be gleaned just from the personality that God created in me.
If you're intrested, there is a very good article here on this personality type that I found very useful in learning about myself.
There is also a very good list of descriptive words and possible careers here.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Quick Thoughts and an Invitation to Engage
- My financial situation is not quite as tight as I thought. It's still pretty gross, and I won't be going out for dinner anytime in the next few weeks like I normally do, but I'll survive, and almost for sure make it to Mexico.
- My glasses presription hasn't changed enough that I need to replace my lenses and my frames. So, tomorrow I'm going to pick up the replacement front piece, have them install my current lenses and earpieces onto the replacement and we'll be back in business. I'll fill the new prescription I got this morning a couple of months down the road when I'm financially stable again. And the replacement piece will only cost me about $92 instead of $300. Plus, I got lucky that they even still make my frames, as they're approximately three years old.
- I watched "Walk the Line" again tonight with a friend. I love that movie. Something about the power of redemption...
- I sent off a couple of resumes today. My hours at work for next week got cut again, and I only have 2 shifts (Monday and Saturday)... so, I thought I'd see if I can land some interviews, and hopefully a job, and start the job when I return from Mexico.
- I also wrote prayer/support letters for my Mexico trip today - not very exciting, and kind of awkward to ask for money. I don't think I'd make a very good career missionary.
- I think I'm off to lay in bed now and read theology. I came across a borrowed book on my shelf today about "kingdom theology" and thought I'd read some of it.
- I was oddly surprised by the lack of comments on my "The Kingdom Isn't Breaking Through" post earlier this week. Only Nolan (which, by the way, Nolan, I appreciate!). That post felt so controversial when I wrote it - it was a way of giving voice to thoughts that a number of friends and I have been batting around but finding no voice for at our church right now. We're tired, and struggling with the sense that our voices are not being heard, that our concerns are being minimized because we are the "messy" ones. I guess I'm inviting comment and discussion. I'm inviting you to challenge my thinking. I love to bat around ideas, and this one has been bothering me for a while. Like I said, it feels controversial. I can't believe that everyone I know is just simply happy with the things I had to say. Consider this your official invitation to engage!
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Frustrating Morning
I'm having a not so good morning. My Mexico trip may be in jeopardy. It doesn't cost that much (about $700 + some spending money CDN), but my glasses snapped in half at the bridge of the nose late last night. (I was distracted, getting ready for bed, thought I'd taken them off, hadn't, and pulling my tight hoody off snapped them in two).
My dad is currently trying to repair them. there will be a somewhat visible line where they snapped, but definitely better than trying to wear a pair with a presrciption that is three years out of date. And here's the thing - if he can't repair them, then I'll have to replace them. My glasses usually run $300-400 because of my odd prescription (I have a lazy eye, and astigmatism, making me nearsighted in one eye and farsighted in the other.) Because I'm no longer a student, I no longer have insurance coverage under my parents for my glasses.
Money was already tight for my trip. Because my hours at work have been cut in the last while, my finances have been tight, but somehow I was going to pay for the trip. I was going to write letters this morning to a few friends and family members to ask for financial and prayer support. If I have to replace my glasses, I won't be going to Mexico. I'm praying that my dad will manage to repair them, and that they'll hold through the trip and for a month or two afterwards until I can afford to replace them. I have prescription sunglasses (in the correct prescription) that I can wear during the day on the trip, minimizing the wear and tear on my regular glasses.
Please, God, let this work. I thought you wanted me to make this trip.
My dad is currently trying to repair them. there will be a somewhat visible line where they snapped, but definitely better than trying to wear a pair with a presrciption that is three years out of date. And here's the thing - if he can't repair them, then I'll have to replace them. My glasses usually run $300-400 because of my odd prescription (I have a lazy eye, and astigmatism, making me nearsighted in one eye and farsighted in the other.) Because I'm no longer a student, I no longer have insurance coverage under my parents for my glasses.
Money was already tight for my trip. Because my hours at work have been cut in the last while, my finances have been tight, but somehow I was going to pay for the trip. I was going to write letters this morning to a few friends and family members to ask for financial and prayer support. If I have to replace my glasses, I won't be going to Mexico. I'm praying that my dad will manage to repair them, and that they'll hold through the trip and for a month or two afterwards until I can afford to replace them. I have prescription sunglasses (in the correct prescription) that I can wear during the day on the trip, minimizing the wear and tear on my regular glasses.
Please, God, let this work. I thought you wanted me to make this trip.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
The Kingdom Isn't Breaking Through
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the “Kingdom of God.” You see, I’ve been hanging out with this group of people for the past three years that talk about the Kingdom on a pretty regular basis. We’ve talked about the paradox of the “now” versus the “not yet.” The paradox of “my kingdom is coming” versus “my kingdom is here.” And, I think that’s probably a good thing. But, lately, as my life has been in upheaval, as I’ve been healed from depression that plagued me for over five years, as I’ve walked out life with some very messy and broken people and as I’ve re-established a regular discipline of scripture reading, spending time primarily in the Gospels, I’ve become increasingly uncomfortable with some things that have been communicated to me over the last years.
First, somewhere along the line, the idea of “the Kingdom of God breaking through” has begun to be associated only with the major events. The kind of services where someone gets healed, or there’s tongues or screaming or dancing wildly, people shaking and falling over, an unreached people group converting to Christ. And I have to wonder about this idea of God’s kingdom being only in the big and showy events. Because my own experiences would challenge that assumption. Now, let me be honest and say that this may not have been intentionally communicated, but it seems we’ve been so busy looking for the “big” events lately that we’ve forgotten to see God’s kingdom in the minutia of daily living – in the moments beyond Sunday night services and Tuesday night house church – in the moments marked with financial difficulties, with illness, with boredom, with questions about life and health, with laughter and tears.
Yes, approximately five months ago, there was a big event in my life – God’s kingdom broke through, and my own depression was healed. However, that was the last big event I have personally experienced. And yet, I don’t think that that was the last time God’s kingdom broke through. Because there have been any number of tiny moments when I have known without a doubt the presence of God’s kingdom in my life. There was the phone call at two in the morning, during a week where my attitude was anything but appropriate for ministry, where God very clearly drew me out of my own self-involved thoughts and asked me to speak to the broken and weeping woman on the other end of the phone line. I know from further conversations with her that she remembers very little of what God asked me to speak that night, but the conversation is burned into my own mind with the clarity of a moment where God very clearly intervened beyond my own willingness, ability or skills.
My second challenge is this: We have become so caught up in seeking the “kingdom of God” that we have neglected to develop an ability to deal with the messiness that ensues when God’s kingdom does not break through. And let me be completely honest – while there have been any number of moments where I have known God’s kingdom breakthrough without a doubt, there have been far more moments when I have known with equal certainty that God’s kingdom was not breaking through. And here’s the thing – we must learn to look for God in those moments as well. Because He, as an omnipresent Savior can be no less present in the moments when the realities of evil are winning than He can be in the moments when His kingdom is noticeably breaking through. So what do we do when the kingdom of God is not breaking through?
We must learn to live with messy. The thing is, I know a lot of people who espouse the value of recognizing the messiness of the human condition, but I know very few people who can actually live what they are espousing. When God’s kingdom broke through in my life, and my depression was healed, the messiness in my life didn’t disappear, it simply shifted. I am still a wounded person, whom God is healing day by day. And four days after God stepped into my life, He tossed me headlong into ministering to others who have led lives far more messy than my own. And we talk and talk and talk about the beauty of honesty, the beauty of being “real” but so very few people choose to actually live these values.
I am in a place in life where I cannot help but speak with honesty. I come from a family background where lies and evil were perpetuated by silence, and I am compelled at times to speak and break the hold of that silence on my life. And at times it feels harsh and critical to speak honestly, and I wonder if I am wrong. At other moments I struggle with the feeling of exposure and vulnerability – having the honest state of my life on display. But I have watched for years as people within the body of Christ suffered in silence. I have been a victim of the mentality that attaches societal stigma to issues like depression and abuse, and makes the church a place of hurt rather than a place of healing. I cannot wear the masks anymore.
And here’s the thing – I am finding God in the places where it seems evil is the most rampant. In the lives of abused women and broken families. In my own life and struggles. Yes, God healed me from depression. He gave me hope. But four days later he plunged me headlong into the very evil realities of life for a number of people I am privileged to call friends. I sat at house church last night, pondering a couple of conversations I’d had in the previous twenty-four hours. I sat there and my heart was breaking for these people. And I realized something – if the reality of evil in the lives of these people was breaking my heart, how much more so was it breaking the heart of God? And so, I’m going to keep looking for Him in the places where His kingdom is NOT breaking through. I’m going to keep praying for breakthrough, but looking for Him even in the places where breakthrough is not happening. I’m going to look for Him in the tiny breakthroughs, and not just the big moments. Because He is no less present in those tiny places, and in the places marked by evil than He is in the big “the kingdom most definitely broke through” moments.
First, somewhere along the line, the idea of “the Kingdom of God breaking through” has begun to be associated only with the major events. The kind of services where someone gets healed, or there’s tongues or screaming or dancing wildly, people shaking and falling over, an unreached people group converting to Christ. And I have to wonder about this idea of God’s kingdom being only in the big and showy events. Because my own experiences would challenge that assumption. Now, let me be honest and say that this may not have been intentionally communicated, but it seems we’ve been so busy looking for the “big” events lately that we’ve forgotten to see God’s kingdom in the minutia of daily living – in the moments beyond Sunday night services and Tuesday night house church – in the moments marked with financial difficulties, with illness, with boredom, with questions about life and health, with laughter and tears.
Yes, approximately five months ago, there was a big event in my life – God’s kingdom broke through, and my own depression was healed. However, that was the last big event I have personally experienced. And yet, I don’t think that that was the last time God’s kingdom broke through. Because there have been any number of tiny moments when I have known without a doubt the presence of God’s kingdom in my life. There was the phone call at two in the morning, during a week where my attitude was anything but appropriate for ministry, where God very clearly drew me out of my own self-involved thoughts and asked me to speak to the broken and weeping woman on the other end of the phone line. I know from further conversations with her that she remembers very little of what God asked me to speak that night, but the conversation is burned into my own mind with the clarity of a moment where God very clearly intervened beyond my own willingness, ability or skills.
My second challenge is this: We have become so caught up in seeking the “kingdom of God” that we have neglected to develop an ability to deal with the messiness that ensues when God’s kingdom does not break through. And let me be completely honest – while there have been any number of moments where I have known God’s kingdom breakthrough without a doubt, there have been far more moments when I have known with equal certainty that God’s kingdom was not breaking through. And here’s the thing – we must learn to look for God in those moments as well. Because He, as an omnipresent Savior can be no less present in the moments when the realities of evil are winning than He can be in the moments when His kingdom is noticeably breaking through. So what do we do when the kingdom of God is not breaking through?
We must learn to live with messy. The thing is, I know a lot of people who espouse the value of recognizing the messiness of the human condition, but I know very few people who can actually live what they are espousing. When God’s kingdom broke through in my life, and my depression was healed, the messiness in my life didn’t disappear, it simply shifted. I am still a wounded person, whom God is healing day by day. And four days after God stepped into my life, He tossed me headlong into ministering to others who have led lives far more messy than my own. And we talk and talk and talk about the beauty of honesty, the beauty of being “real” but so very few people choose to actually live these values.
I am in a place in life where I cannot help but speak with honesty. I come from a family background where lies and evil were perpetuated by silence, and I am compelled at times to speak and break the hold of that silence on my life. And at times it feels harsh and critical to speak honestly, and I wonder if I am wrong. At other moments I struggle with the feeling of exposure and vulnerability – having the honest state of my life on display. But I have watched for years as people within the body of Christ suffered in silence. I have been a victim of the mentality that attaches societal stigma to issues like depression and abuse, and makes the church a place of hurt rather than a place of healing. I cannot wear the masks anymore.
And here’s the thing – I am finding God in the places where it seems evil is the most rampant. In the lives of abused women and broken families. In my own life and struggles. Yes, God healed me from depression. He gave me hope. But four days later he plunged me headlong into the very evil realities of life for a number of people I am privileged to call friends. I sat at house church last night, pondering a couple of conversations I’d had in the previous twenty-four hours. I sat there and my heart was breaking for these people. And I realized something – if the reality of evil in the lives of these people was breaking my heart, how much more so was it breaking the heart of God? And so, I’m going to keep looking for Him in the places where His kingdom is NOT breaking through. I’m going to keep praying for breakthrough, but looking for Him even in the places where breakthrough is not happening. I’m going to look for Him in the tiny breakthroughs, and not just the big moments. Because He is no less present in those tiny places, and in the places marked by evil than He is in the big “the kingdom most definitely broke through” moments.
Thinking and Thinking and Thinking
And maybe writing. I have stuff on the brain. Some big decisions to make, some issues to work through mentally. Some theological stuff to wade through. Some sorrow to experience and let ebb. And as I'm doing this stuff, I'll probably write some of it down. It may or may not make it here... but I'll be around I promise!
And now, off to write an article that's been sitting in my brain and bothering me for the last couple of days. Then I guess I'll have to get dressed, and go to work. So much for an exciting day!
And now, off to write an article that's been sitting in my brain and bothering me for the last couple of days. Then I guess I'll have to get dressed, and go to work. So much for an exciting day!
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
International Women's Day
To recognize International Women's Day, I am bringing forward a portion of a post I put up in December. I continue to find Rachel Conrad Wahlberg's words to be both challenging and inspiring - a picture of a Jesus who not only respected women, but relied on them and honored them - a Jesus I would want to meet.
I attended a lecture this morning in one of my classes on "liberation theology" and the "feminist theology" that is closely tied to this. It is an interesting topic. The professor gave us a copy of a "creed" that one feminist theologian wrote. I found it strikingly biblical, and challenging. The author, Rachel Conrad Wahlberg, wrote "The Woman's Creed" in 1978 after reflecting for a time on the Apostle's Creed. I would not use her creed in a liturgy, as it lacks discussion of key elements of faith such as the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ, but I find her conception of Jesus and his relationship to women fascinating. So, I thought I'd share it with you!
I believe in God
who created woman and man in God's own image
who created the world
and gave both sexes
the care of the earth.
I believe in Jesus
child of God
chosen of God
born of the woman Mary
who listened to women and liked them
who stayed in their homes
who discussed the Kingdom with them
who was followed and financed
by women disciples.
I believe in Jesus
who discussed theology with a woman at a well
and first confided in her
his messiahship
who motivated her to go and tell
her great news to the city.
I believe in Jesus who received anointing
from a woman at Simon's house
who rebuked the men guests who scorned her
I believe in Jesuswho said this woman will be remembered
for what she did -minister to Jesus.
I believe in Jesuswho acted boldly
to reject the blood taboo
of ancient societies
by healing the audacious woman who touched him.
I believe in Jesus who healed a woman
on the sabbathand made her straight
because she was
a human being.
I believe in Jesus
who spoke of God
as a woman seeking the lost coin
as a woman who swept
seeking the lost.
I believe in Jesus
who thought of pregnancy and birth
with reverence
not as punishment - but
as wrenching event
a metaphor for transformation
born again
anguish-into-joy.
I believe in Jesus
who spoke of himself
as a mother her
who would gather her chicks
under her wings.
I believe in Jesus who appeared
first to Mary Magdalene
who sent her with the bursting message
GO AND TELL...
I believe in the wholeness
of the Savior
in whom there is neither
Jew nor Greek
slave nor free
male nor female
for we are all one
in salvation.
I believe in the Holy Spirit
as she moves over the waters
of creation
and over the earth.
I believe in the Holy Spirit
as she yearns within us
to pray for those things
too deep for words.
I believe in the Holy Spirit
the woman spirit of God*
who like a hen
created us
and gave us birth
and covers uswith her wings.
*the Hebrew word for Spirit is feminine
So, there you have it. I like this picture of a God who values me as female, who presents important messages to women. I don't have all the answers, I certainly don't subscribe most days to a feminist (there's that awful word again) mindset, but I can subscribe to this God, who values me, who created me uniquely female, and says that there is something beautiful in that.
I attended a lecture this morning in one of my classes on "liberation theology" and the "feminist theology" that is closely tied to this. It is an interesting topic. The professor gave us a copy of a "creed" that one feminist theologian wrote. I found it strikingly biblical, and challenging. The author, Rachel Conrad Wahlberg, wrote "The Woman's Creed" in 1978 after reflecting for a time on the Apostle's Creed. I would not use her creed in a liturgy, as it lacks discussion of key elements of faith such as the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ, but I find her conception of Jesus and his relationship to women fascinating. So, I thought I'd share it with you!
I believe in God
who created woman and man in God's own image
who created the world
and gave both sexes
the care of the earth.
I believe in Jesus
child of God
chosen of God
born of the woman Mary
who listened to women and liked them
who stayed in their homes
who discussed the Kingdom with them
who was followed and financed
by women disciples.
I believe in Jesus
who discussed theology with a woman at a well
and first confided in her
his messiahship
who motivated her to go and tell
her great news to the city.
I believe in Jesus who received anointing
from a woman at Simon's house
who rebuked the men guests who scorned her
I believe in Jesuswho said this woman will be remembered
for what she did -minister to Jesus.
I believe in Jesuswho acted boldly
to reject the blood taboo
of ancient societies
by healing the audacious woman who touched him.
I believe in Jesus who healed a woman
on the sabbathand made her straight
because she was
a human being.
I believe in Jesus
who spoke of God
as a woman seeking the lost coin
as a woman who swept
seeking the lost.
I believe in Jesus
who thought of pregnancy and birth
with reverence
not as punishment - but
as wrenching event
a metaphor for transformation
born again
anguish-into-joy.
I believe in Jesus
who spoke of himself
as a mother her
who would gather her chicks
under her wings.
I believe in Jesus who appeared
first to Mary Magdalene
who sent her with the bursting message
GO AND TELL...
I believe in the wholeness
of the Savior
in whom there is neither
Jew nor Greek
slave nor free
male nor female
for we are all one
in salvation.
I believe in the Holy Spirit
as she moves over the waters
of creation
and over the earth.
I believe in the Holy Spirit
as she yearns within us
to pray for those things
too deep for words.
I believe in the Holy Spirit
the woman spirit of God*
who like a hen
created us
and gave us birth
and covers uswith her wings.
*the Hebrew word for Spirit is feminine
So, there you have it. I like this picture of a God who values me as female, who presents important messages to women. I don't have all the answers, I certainly don't subscribe most days to a feminist (there's that awful word again) mindset, but I can subscribe to this God, who values me, who created me uniquely female, and says that there is something beautiful in that.
Monday, March 06, 2006
With Tears
I came across another story in "Let Me Tell You a Story" by Tony Campolo that I simply had to share. Campolo writes:
The story is told of a church in a small town that got a new preacher. Everyone in the town was talking about how wonderful he was. Then the town skeptic asked one of the church deacons, "Why is this preacher so much better than the last one you had?"
The deacon answered, "The last one told us we were sinners, and that unless we repented we would all go to hell."
The skeptic asked, "And what does this new preacher say?"
"This new preacher tells us we're all sinners and unless we repent and accept Jesus, we're all going to hell," was the answer.
The skeptic just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I fail to see any difference between the two."
And the deacon answered, "The new preacher says it with tears in his eyes."
The story is told of a church in a small town that got a new preacher. Everyone in the town was talking about how wonderful he was. Then the town skeptic asked one of the church deacons, "Why is this preacher so much better than the last one you had?"
The deacon answered, "The last one told us we were sinners, and that unless we repented we would all go to hell."
The skeptic asked, "And what does this new preacher say?"
"This new preacher tells us we're all sinners and unless we repent and accept Jesus, we're all going to hell," was the answer.
The skeptic just shrugged his shoulders and said, "I fail to see any difference between the two."
And the deacon answered, "The new preacher says it with tears in his eyes."
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Some Explaining to do....
I was flipping through a wonderful book of stories and verbal illustrations last night, reading again some of the ones I had flagged on my last trip through the book. The book is titled, "Let Me Tell You a Story" and is written by Tony Campolo, who happens to be one of my favorite communicators of all time. So much passion and energy, and never a moment when what he has to say doesn't completely and totally challenge your thoughts.
Anyway, I came across a story he had entitled simply, "Some Explaining To Do" and thought I'd share it with you, because it made me smile, and because Mother Teresa's reaction is similar to things I've thought recently.
When Mother Teresa visited Haiti, she was shown one of the most horrendous slums in the world. She was asked, "How do you explain all of this in light of our claims that our God is a loving God? Why does God let things like this happen?" Mother Teresa answered, "When I see Him, He's got a lot of explaining to do!"
I jokingly say that this is probably why she lived so long. Every time she approached death, I imagine God saying, "Hold up! Don't let her die yet! I don't think I can handle her right now."
Anyway, I came across a story he had entitled simply, "Some Explaining To Do" and thought I'd share it with you, because it made me smile, and because Mother Teresa's reaction is similar to things I've thought recently.
When Mother Teresa visited Haiti, she was shown one of the most horrendous slums in the world. She was asked, "How do you explain all of this in light of our claims that our God is a loving God? Why does God let things like this happen?" Mother Teresa answered, "When I see Him, He's got a lot of explaining to do!"
I jokingly say that this is probably why she lived so long. Every time she approached death, I imagine God saying, "Hold up! Don't let her die yet! I don't think I can handle her right now."
Thursday, March 02, 2006
The things I've done
Today has been another "recovery" day. The previous couple of days were rather filled with people, intense conversations, and things of that nature. They were both good and bad, stressful and encouraging. But I was pretty tired again.
There are things that I could write about, but I think they're perpetuating some negative thought patterns that I want to beat. I gave them voice on the phone to a friend who lets me call him just to rant last night, and now, for the moment at least, I think I'll leave them be.
So, I spent the day watching episodes of M*A*S*H*. Because I love the show. One of my favorite lines from recent episodes? Frank Burns has just done something that delights Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan, and she comments, "Oh, Frank, you're so above average!" I can't help it - I love it. Witty writing is one of my weaknesses.
I also read a novel for a while in the bathtub. One of my other favorite methods of relaxation. I think I need to find a new novel, though, this one is a bit of an adventure/mystery/thriller and it's a little too much drama for the kind of relaxation I'm looking for. When I called my friend last night to rant, one of the things I said to him was, "I'm tired of all the drama!" So, I'll be stopping at the library sometime in the next day or so to pick up something a little bit lighter to read!
And now, I'm off to work. For some unknown reason I have the truly ridiculous 6-9 shift tonight. Three hours - it's hardly worth my while to leave the comforts of my house. I'm trying not to think about the fact that I'm heading out in the cold to make $27.30 before taxes. It's so not worth my while when I think about it that way! I still like the job itself, but I'm very tired of the politics and a number of my coworkers at the moment. I can't wait to get back from Mexico and start looking for a nice 9-5 or 8-4 office type job!
There are things that I could write about, but I think they're perpetuating some negative thought patterns that I want to beat. I gave them voice on the phone to a friend who lets me call him just to rant last night, and now, for the moment at least, I think I'll leave them be.
So, I spent the day watching episodes of M*A*S*H*. Because I love the show. One of my favorite lines from recent episodes? Frank Burns has just done something that delights Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan, and she comments, "Oh, Frank, you're so above average!" I can't help it - I love it. Witty writing is one of my weaknesses.
I also read a novel for a while in the bathtub. One of my other favorite methods of relaxation. I think I need to find a new novel, though, this one is a bit of an adventure/mystery/thriller and it's a little too much drama for the kind of relaxation I'm looking for. When I called my friend last night to rant, one of the things I said to him was, "I'm tired of all the drama!" So, I'll be stopping at the library sometime in the next day or so to pick up something a little bit lighter to read!
And now, I'm off to work. For some unknown reason I have the truly ridiculous 6-9 shift tonight. Three hours - it's hardly worth my while to leave the comforts of my house. I'm trying not to think about the fact that I'm heading out in the cold to make $27.30 before taxes. It's so not worth my while when I think about it that way! I still like the job itself, but I'm very tired of the politics and a number of my coworkers at the moment. I can't wait to get back from Mexico and start looking for a nice 9-5 or 8-4 office type job!
Mental Health
A good friend who knew I was in need of a laugh this morning sent me this link. Make sure the sound on your computer is turned on. And enjoy!
It's Going to Be Alright....
I have a number of things on my mind. I could cram them all into one colossally long post, but I think I'll just start with this shorter post, and possibly add other shorter posts through the course of the day.
This has been an interesting week. Hard. Long. I was flipping through some song lyrics late last night, and came across a song by Sara Groves with the title that I used for this entry. It's not so much a prayer as a statement of faith. I'm not doing so well at clinging to that faith some days, but in my best moments, and in the deep recesses of my heart, the lyrics state so simply what I long for and believe about so many of the people in my life right now - there are so many who are hurting - but I want to cling to the fact that God is working even in the midst of the crap, of the pain that just never quite seems to end. That something beautiful will emerge from the messiness of life.
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright
I can tell by your eyes that you're not getting any sleep
And you try to rise above it, but feel you're sinking in too deep
Oh, oh I believe, I believe that
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright
I believe you'll outlive this pain in your heart
And you'll gain such a strength from what is tearing you apart
Oh, oh I believe, I believe that
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright
When some time has past us, and the story can be told
It will mirror the strength and courage of your soul
Oh, oh I believe, I believe
I believe
I believe
I did not come here to offer you cliches
I will not pretend to know of all your pain
Just when you cannot, then I will hold out faith, for you
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright.
(Sara Groves and Gordon Kennedy)
Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.
This has been an interesting week. Hard. Long. I was flipping through some song lyrics late last night, and came across a song by Sara Groves with the title that I used for this entry. It's not so much a prayer as a statement of faith. I'm not doing so well at clinging to that faith some days, but in my best moments, and in the deep recesses of my heart, the lyrics state so simply what I long for and believe about so many of the people in my life right now - there are so many who are hurting - but I want to cling to the fact that God is working even in the midst of the crap, of the pain that just never quite seems to end. That something beautiful will emerge from the messiness of life.
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright
I can tell by your eyes that you're not getting any sleep
And you try to rise above it, but feel you're sinking in too deep
Oh, oh I believe, I believe that
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright
I believe you'll outlive this pain in your heart
And you'll gain such a strength from what is tearing you apart
Oh, oh I believe, I believe that
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright
When some time has past us, and the story can be told
It will mirror the strength and courage of your soul
Oh, oh I believe, I believe
I believe
I believe
I did not come here to offer you cliches
I will not pretend to know of all your pain
Just when you cannot, then I will hold out faith, for you
It's going to be alright
It's going to be alright.
(Sara Groves and Gordon Kennedy)
Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.
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