the power to give glory ...

"Imagine how much a man's life would be changed if trusted that he was loved by God? He could interact with the poor and not show partiality, he could love his wife easily and not expect her to redeem him, he would be slow to anger because redemption was no longer at stake, he could be wise and giving with his money because money no longer represented points, he could give up on formulaic religion, knowing that checking stuff off a spiritual to-do list was a worthless pursuit, he would have confidence and the ability to laugh at himself, and he could love people without expecting anything in return. It would be quite beautiful, really ... I bring this up only to say there is a certain freedom in getting our feelings of redemption from God and not other people. This what we have always wanted, isn't it? And it isn't the American dream at all, it is the human dream, the deepest desire of our hearts. I would imagine, then, that the repentance we are called to is about choosing one audience over another. Jesus says many times in the gospel that he knows the heart of man, and the heart of man does not have the power to give glory. I think Jesus is saying, Look, you guys are running around like monkeys trying to get people to clap, but people are fallen, they are separated from God, so they have no idea what is good or bad, worthy to be judged or set free, beautiful or ugly to begin with. Why not get your glory from God? Why not accept your feelings of redemption because of his pleasure in you, not the fickle and empty favor of man? And only then will you know who you are, and only then will you have true, uninhibited relationships with others." (From Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller)

new freedoms ...

"... Mack realized that he too had a fork halfway to his mouth. He gratefully took the bite as Sarayu began to speak. As she did, she seemed to lift off her chair and shimmer with a dance of subtle hues and shades and the room was faintly filling with an array of aromas, incense-like and heady. '... Why do you think we came up with the Ten Commandments?'

Again Mack had his fork halfway to his mouth, but took the bite anyway while he thought of how to answer Sarayu. 'I suppose, at least I have been taught, that it's a set of rules that you expected humans to obey in order to live righteously in your good graces.'

'If that were true, which it's not,' Sarayu countered, 'then how many do you think lived righteously enough to enter our good graces?'

'Not very many, if people are like me,' Mack observed.

'Actually, only one succeeded - Jesus. He not only obeyed the letter of the law but fulfilled the spirit of it completely. But understand this, Mackenzie - to do that he had to rest fully and dependently upon me.'

'Then why did you give us the Ten Commandments?" asked Mack.

'Actually, we wanted you to give up trying to be righteous on your own. It was a mirror to reveal just how filthy your face gets when you live independently.'

'But as I'm sure you know there are many,' responded Mack, 'who think they are made righteous by following the rules.'

'But can you clean your face with the same mirror that shows you how dirty you are? There is no mercy or grace in rules, not even for one mistake. That's why Jesus fulfilled all of it for you - so that it no longer has jurisdiction over you. And the Law that once contained impossible demands - Thou Shall Not ... - actually becomes a promise we fulfill in you.' She was on a roll now, her countenance billowing and moving. 'But keep in mind that if you live your life alone and independently, the promise is empty. Jesus laid the demand of the law to rest; it no longer has any power to accuse or command. Jesus is both the promise and its fulfillment.'

'Are you saying I don't have to follow the rules?' Mack had now completely stopped eating and was concentrating on the conversation.

'Yes. In Jesus you are not under any law. All things are lawful.'

'You can't be serious! You're messing with me again,' moaned Mack.

'Child,' interrupted Papa, 'you ain't heard nuthin' yet.'

'Mackenzie,' Sarayu continued, 'those who are afraid of freedom are those who cannot trust us to live in them. Trying to keep the law is actually a declaration of independence, a way of keeping control.'

'Is that why we like the law so much - to give us some control?' asked Mack.

'It is much worse than that,' resumed Sarayu. 'It grants you the power to judge others and feel superior to them. You believe you are living to a higher standard than those you judge. Enforcing rules, especially in its more subtle expressions like responsibility and expectation, is a vain attempt to create certainty out of uncertainty. And contrary to what you might think, I have a great fondness for uncertainty. Rules cannot bring freedom; they only have the power to accuse.'

'Whoa!' Mack suddenly realized what Sarayu had said. 'Are you telling me that responsibility and expectation are just another form of rules we are no longer under? Did I hear you right?'

'Yup,' Papa interjected again. 'Now we're in it - Sarayu, he is all yours!'

Mack ignored Papa, choosing instead to concentrate on Sarayu, which was no easy task.
Sarayu smiled at Papa and then back at Mack. She began to speak slowly and deliberately, 'Mackenzie, I will take a verb over a noun anytime.'

She stopped and waited. Mack wasn't at all sure about what he was supposed to understand by her cryptic remark and said the only thing that came to mind. 'Huh?'

'I,' she opened her hands to include Jesus and Papa, 'I am a verb. I am that I am. I will be who I will be. I am a verb! I am alive, dynamic, ever active, and moving. I am a being verb.'

Mack still felt like he had a blank stare on his face. He understood the words she was saying, but it just wasn't connecting yet.

'And as my very essence is a verb,' she continued, 'I am more attuned to verbs than nouns. Verbs such as confessing, repenting, living, loving, responding, growing, reaping, changing, sowing, running, dancing, singing, and on and on. Humans, on the other hand, have a knack for taking a verb that is alive and full of grace and turning it into a dead noun or principle that reeks of rules: something growing and alive dies. Nouns exist because there is a created universe and physical reality, but if the universe is only a mass of nouns, it is dead. Unless 'I am,' there are no verbs, and verbs are what makes the universe alive.'

'And,' Mack was still struggling, although a glimmer of light seemed to begin to shine into his mind. 'And, this means what, exactly?'

Sarayu seemed unperturbed by his lack of understanding. 'For something to move from death to life you must introduce something living and moving into the mix. To move from something that is only a noun to something dynamic and unpredictable, to something living and present tense, is to move from law to grace. May I give you a couple examples?'

'Please do,' assented Mack. 'I'm all ears.'

Jesus chuckled and Mack scowled at him before turning back to Sarayu. The faintest shadow of a smile crossed her face as she resumed.

'Then let's use your two words: responsibility and expectation. Before your words became nouns, they were first my words, nouns with movement and experience buried inside of them; the ability to respond and expectancy. My words are alive and dynamic - full of life and possibility; yours are dead, full of law and fear and judgment. That is why you won't find the word responsibility in the Scriptures.'

'Oh boy,' Mack grimaced, beginning to see where this was going. 'We sure seem to use it a lot.'

'Religion must use law to empower itself and control the people who they need in order to survive. I give you an ability to respond and your response is to be free to love and serve in every situation, and therefore each moment is different and unique and wonderful. Because I am your ability to respond, I have to be present in you. If I simply gave you a responsibility, I would not have to be with you at all. It would now be a task to perform, an obligation to be met, something to fail. Let's use the example of friendship and how removing the element of life from a noun can drastically alter a relationship. Mack, if you and I are friends, there is an expectancy that exists within our relationship. When we see each other or are apart, there is expectancy of being together, of laughter and talking. That expectancy has no concrete definition; it is alive and dynamic and everything that emerges from our being together is a unique gift shared by no one else. But what happens if I change that 'expectancy' to an 'expectation' - spoken or unspoken? Suddenly, law has entered into our relationship. You are now expected to perform in a way that meets my expectations. Our living friendship rapidly deteriorates into a dead thing with rules and requirements. It is no longer about you and me, but about what friends are supposed to do, or the responsibilities of a good friend.'

'Or,' noted Mack, 'the responsibilities of a husband, or a father, or employee, or whatever. I get the picture. I would much rather live in expectancy.'

'As I do,' mused Sarayu.

'But,' argued Mack, 'if you didn't have expectations and responsibilities, wouldn't everything just fall apart?'

'Only if you are of the world, apart from me and under the law. Responsibilities and expectations are the basis of guilt and shame and judgment, and they provide the essential framework that promotes performance as the basis for identity and value. You know well what it is like not to live up to someone's expectations.'

'Boy, do I!' Mack mumbled. 'It's not my idea of a good time.' He paused briefly, a new thought flashing through his mind. 'Are you saying you don't have expectations of me?'

Papa now spoke up. 'Honey, I've never placed an expectation on you or anyone else. The idea behind expectations requires that someone does not know the future or outcome and is trying to control behavior to get the desired result. Humans try to control behavior largely through expectations. I know you and everything about you. Why would I have expectation other that what I already know? That would be foolish. And beyond that, because I have no expectations, you never disappoint me.'

'What? You've never been disappointed in me?' Mack was trying hard to digest this.

'Never!' Papa stated emphatically. 'What I do have is a constant and living expectancy in our relationship, and I give you an ability to respond to any situation and circumstance in which you find yourself. To the degree that you resort to expectations and responsibilities, to that degree you neither know me nor trust me.'

'And,' interjected Jesus, 'to that degree you will live in fear.'

'But,' Mack wasn't convinced. 'But don't you want us to set priorities? You know: God first, then whatever, followed by whatever?'

'The trouble with living by priorities,' Sarayu spoke, 'is that it sees everything as a hierarchy, a pyramid, and you and I have already had that discussion. If you put God at the top, what does that really mean and how much is enough? How much time do you give me before you can go on about the rest of your day, the part that interests you so much more?'

Papa again interrupted. 'You see, Mackenzie, I don't just want a piece of you and a piece of your life. Even if you were able, which you are not, to give me the biggest piece, that is not what I want. I want all of you and all of every part of you and your day.'

Jesus now spoke again. 'Mack, I don't want to be first among a list of values; I want to be at the center of everything. When I live in you, then together we can live through everything that happens to you. Rather than a pyramid, I want to be the center of a mobile, where everything in your life - your friends, family, occupation, thoughts, activities - is connected to me but moved with the wind, in and out and back and forth, in an incredible dance of being.'

'And I,' concluded Sarayu, 'am the wind.' She smiled hugely and bowed.

There was silence while Mack collected himself. He had been gripping the edge of the table with both hands as if to hold on to something tangible in the face of such an onslaught of ideas and images.

'Well, enough of all this,' stated Papa, getting up from her chair. 'Time for some fun! You all go ahead while I put away the stuff that will spoil. I'll take care of the dishes later.'
(From The Shack by William P. Young)

theology and reality ...

I finished re-reading The Shack yesterday and have been rolling so many things over in my mind ever since. At the forefront, it seems, is that, like Mack, my understanding of God is wrong. I judge him and I judge him to be someone that he is not, someone that the broken me this side of Eden has made him out to be. Someone that reflects my dad's flaws and the lies I have chosen to believe - lies that I believe about myself, lies about others and lies about the character and personality of fathers. I see him as untrustworthy and that frightens me. To me, He has always been a "father" and not a "dad" at all. If I encounter difficulty in life, I automatically think he's punishing me for something I've done. For instance, if I splurge and buy ice cream and then my car won't start, I somehow connect the two and think I knew I shouldn't have bought that. I certainly didn't need it! As if me spending the extra $3 buying the ice cream made God mad and he decided to make my car not start. Seriously. I know how ludicrous that sounds. Even just saying it I am so embarrassed, but it's true that I feel that way. I view him through my heinous, dark, experience-tinted glasses.

Now, fundamentally, I know these are lies. I know God loves me and that he sent his son to die on a cross for me. I know those things because I was brought up in Sunday School and had them drilled into my brain from a very young age. My head knows them but somehow there's a major disconnect between my head and my heart. "What we have here is failure to communicate ..." I view God this way and that perpetuates the lies I believe (I'm not chosen. I'm not loved. I'm not enough. Not worthy. Not acceptable.). I then judge God and I project my inner world onto God's face and tar it with a reflection of my brokenness. This reinforces my false belief that God is unloving, untrustworthy, distant, judgmental, unapproachable and disappointed in me which leads me to the lies about myself. And the cycle continues, round and round and round. It taints every aspect of my life so that I don't see any experiences as he intended me to see them. I rob myself of beauty and joy. I'm almost always in inner discord and turmoil. Never fully at peace, always striving.

Don't get me wrong, there are times when I unmistakably experience his love and grace. Times when I do trust him with everything in me. Times when he touches me in tangible ways to reveal his presence in my life. Times when I feel we are friends in a lifelong conversation. There are even times when I feel romanced by him. But these times don't even come close to adding up to the number of times when I don't, when I feel his absence and distance.

Because, as I have shared before, my relationship with my earthly father is vastly different than the one we shared while I was growing up, it worries me that the one I have with my heavenly father is still so damaged. I am sometimes worried that somehow my heart is too hard for him to soften it. Will it ever be pliable again? Is that possible? Will I ever be able to take these glasses off and see Papa/Jesus/Sarayu, instead of a G.O.D. that only exists in my mind?

I know the truth. I know that he does love me and is especially fond of me. I know that I alone would have been enough for him to go to the cross. I know somewhere within me that I am chosen and beloved. But that's not enough for me. I want to feel it too. I need to feel it. I need this heart-level knowing to be the lens through which I view his world; a world which he has shared his burden for with me. I desperately need to take off the glasses that I've grown so accustomed to and discard them, break them, throw them away. I need to have my theology match my reality.

Does your theology match your reality?

choosing to fight ...

So in the spirit of my last post, how's this for transparency and vulnerability: My life is a wreck right now. I feel as though everything's a disaster. It feels like someone took the plug out of the drain that was holding my life in the tub and now it's all rushing mad down the pipes. I'm nervous. I'm scared. I'm confused. I'm angry and frustrated and hurting. I feel like throwing up. All while trying to remember that happiness is circumstantial, but joy, however, is not. Is this what a crisis of faith feels like?

Once I made the decision and accepted the call to go to Alaska, everything went to pieces. I'm having a hard time discerning whether this is the enemy blocking my way to joining God in his work or if this is God blocking my path with thorn-bushes as he did in Hosea. But when I start to think about it, I really believe that Alaska is where I am called to be. Knowing how alive I felt while I lived there the first time fills me with joy and anticipation. But then I start to question my motives, Am I running from something? Or to something? And then comes the deluge of self-doubt, Who do I think I am to even imagine that I might be worthy or qualified for missions work? Who am I to dare to fulfill one of my dreams (living in the mountains where God continuously meets me) and move to Alaska? Do I deserve to live in such a beautiful place? The last time I moved to Alaska I had a week and a half from decision to landing in Anchorage. I had no time to doubt or question or do anything but move forward. It was so much easier that time. I made my decision and left 9 days later. I wish this time was like that. Don't think, just act. It would make all of this so much simpler.

The other night I had the distinct pleasure of seeing Donald Miller in person and listening to him speak about his new book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. I was front row center, literally right under his nose, when he said these words, "The second you decide to live a more meaningful, more beautiful life, you will encounter conflict and pain." I thought, Boy, does this guy have a camera following me around or something? Direct access to my life? Sure, life wasn't all fun and games before I made this decision but conflict has at the very least doubled since I accepted the call. In Million Dollar Baby, Scrap-Iron Dupris, played by Morgan Freeman, says, "Boxing is an unnatural act, because everything in it is backwards. You wanna move to the left, you don't step left, you push on the right toe. To move right, you use your left toe. Instead of running from the pain - like a sane person would do, you step into it." I'm trying with everything in me to step into it, to be open to it. Open to it changing me and me coming out the other side better and stronger. He also says in the movie, "Sometimes the best way to deliver a punch is to step back. But step back too far and you ain't fighting at all." So, I am choosing to fight. To not let some conflict rob me of time or important lessons. Or rob me of joy. Time in the desert makes the Promised Land seem that much more beautiful once you get there, right? I'll just keep telling myself that.

But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.

For I am the LORD, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior ... (Isaiah 43:1-3, NIV)

just to have it out ...

I have been reading and reading and reading another blog today and her transparency and candor are graceful and her writing is gorgeous. She tells her story of redemption with marked poignancy and forms words into perfect metaphors to make it all so real and graspable.

To be honest, it's left me with a desire to be a little more transparent with some things in my own life as well. The truth is, I'm broken. Very broken. Sometimes (maybe too often?) I try to hide it and cover it up with things to make me appear not so broken. But I know the truth and I am beginning to realize that covering it up only breaks my pieces into smaller bits until soon I will be nothing but a soft heap of fine sand.

This is where I am these days.

Why do I dare to make the vital and life-sucking mistake of constantly comparing myself to other people that I think appear to have it all together, or more together than I do? Why do I do that? Take my sister Traci for instance. I love her. I love her husband and all 6 of her soon to be 7 kids. I watch her in her life and think to myself, Man, why does she have it so together and I don't? How is it she goes through life seemingly not struggling with anything? How is it she has everything and I struggle to make ends meet? And I have a friend, Amy, that I admire greatly, for her writing abilities, for her eye for capturing a great photograph, for her faith, for her beauty and brokenness and boldness. But I can't just leave it at admiring her. I feel this compulsion toward feeling "less-than" simply because I'm not her. I want her to validate me as if she's the one from whom I receive my worth. And honestly, we aren't even close. We were a lot closer 5 years ago or so and I'm not real sure what happened but something changed. Then there's the subject of my car. It's ugly. It's old. Not everything works properly. My door handle is a different color than the rest of it and there's a dent in the passenger side door. And I care entirely too much about those things. I sometimes find myself ashamedly parking away from other people if I'm meeting friends somewhere in hopes they won't see it. I'm embarassed by it even though I know, as Tyler Durden said in Fight Club, "You are not the car you drive and you are not the contents of your wallet." And all of a sudden I'm back to trying to find something to fill whatever it is I feel I'm lacking. All along I know it's a God-shaped hole, not a shirt shaped hole or a cd shaped hole or a lunch shaped hole.

That's another thing. Sometimes I find myself wanting, nay needing, to prove to others, even if I'm alone, that I have money, or that I can go out to eat or get a decaf javanilla shake, even though I really can't. And so I perpetuate the cycle and it never ends. It seems like the less money I have the more I spend for some reason. Actually, it's exactly that: the less I have, the more I feel I have to prove to others and maybe even to myself. I get a little money and I find all kinds of reasons, real or not, to justify spending it. I hate that part of me. It's ugly like a cancer that I want removed, cut out of me. I've had periods in my life when I was responsible and was able to save money instead of spending it but these days I'm struggling. Being unemployed I'm sure has a lot to do with it but so do my own poor choices and it pains me admitting that. We all have affairs, and mine repeatedly seems to be with money.

Sure, I have days when I am happily just me and rest in the knowledge that I am who God says I am and that he gave me my worth. But that's not always. And I have a pretty wonderful life, seriously, I know it could be a lot worse and I don't have to go very far to find people hurting more than I am. But I just feel I should be more thankful for it, more at rest. The book Captivating talks about a woman's heart and says that a truly beautiful heart is one that isn't striving but is just at rest with God and who she is, who he created her to be (should be required reading for every woman/girl). And there's I Peter Chapter 3 that says this: "Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful." I have that verse taped up in a couple of places but the truth of it still has yet to sink in to the very depths of my heart.

I know the roots of most of these things, if not all. I have had 32 years of moments when my value and worth were stripped from me or left in piles of broken china on the kitchen floor. That's not the point here. The point here is just to have it out, out into the light because darkness and Light cannot coexist. It's physically impossible. Shame and grace cannot occupy the same space. I hope to be a little more candid here on my blog in the future. I'm not saying I haven't been honest or transparent before now, but I'm only saying that I hope to be more so. I know a few weeks ago I posted about Donald Miller and his "lifeboat theory" that we all act as if we're on a lifeboat with 10 other people, but there's only room for 10 total, so one of us has to go and so we all try to prove that we should be one who stays. It resonated deep within me and for a while it was quite effective at allowing me to be at rest with who I am. But here the last few days, I have somehow, through a variety of circumstances, gotten away from that and let the lie creep back in that I have something to prove to others so that they'll let me remain in the boat. As if they get to decide. I'm tired of living that way. It's exhausting. So I'm committing myself to bringing things out into the light here in the hopes that it will help me be more accountable for my thoughts and actions. If I know I've committed to posting about it maybe it will help change my behavior / thougths?

I feel compelled to add, I know the Truth. I know from where my self-worth comes. I also know that it's the broken things that find redemption. Beauty out of ashes. This is the hope to which I cling.

truth vs. lie ...

It's been hard for me to update because I feel like there's just so much for me to cover: process of moving to Alaska, things I'm learning, a study I'm doing, and other aspects of life. All of it has been so good but overwhelming too.

Process: I've sent out support-raising letters to friends and family via email and to churches I think might be interested via snail-mail. I've gotten little response and it makes me uncomfortable. One friend this morning told me that he'd help me by giving toward moving expenses and I was thankful for that. And another friend (from Alaska) emailed last week and said she wants to support me as well. I continually have this mantra playing through my head like a scrolling screensaver: While I might repeatedly find myself in over my own head, I am never in over God's! He is going to provide. I have days when I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt, but the other moments, the ones in which the shadow of doubt seemingly overtakes the light, the truth, seem to be coming at smaller intervals lately. I don't want that. I want to be growing in faith, not away from it. I suppose I have thought that I would be farther along in my fund-raising by this point though. Was that foolish of me to have thought that? Perhaps. It's only been a little over a month since I received the offer. But I feel this looming deadline and it makes me start to twitch with anxiety.

Things I'm learning: With all that said, however, I am doing a study at church with other women. It's a Beth Moore study entitled Believing God: Experiencing a Fresh Explosion of Faith. It's all pretty timely if you ask me. It's about how we are to present active participle believe that he is who he says he is, he can do what he says he can do, I am who God says I am, I can do all things through Christ, and God's word is living and active in me. We are to actively believe him. Not just believe in him, but believe him, what he says and what he does. This led me to the thought that I so often call myself a "believer" but really when I label myself that am I really actively believing him in that moment. More often that not, no. I believe in him and I think that's where most of us go wrong. We interpret being a believer as believing in him, and fail at the true meaning: Believe-er, one who actively believes something, the verb form of the word. So I am learning to present active participle believe him in my move, my future as a missionary in Alaska. It seems that it is just so much easier to believe the enemy when he tells me that I'm fooling myself, that I am not worthy of this calling, that money won't come in, that people will mock me for my efforts only to fail in the end, and who do I think I am anyway thinking that God would use me? This is HARD! Living this faith is hard, but I am resting in the knowledge that it will indeed be so worth it in the end.

Other aspects of life: My friend Lisa (from Alaska, the one I mentioned above that said she'd support me monthly) said in the same email that she's horrible at long-distance friendships but that I am "so worth being friends with." That was pretty timely too to be completely honest. I have felt like a failure the last few months in the area of friendships. I have seen the end of two friendships since June, one of which was very significant, the other not as much but still. A third friendship feels like it's on the edge of the cliff waiting for a stiff breeze. I started a small group last fall with the hopes that I would forge some wonderful friendships with some amazing women and we would eventually be really close. I stated in the beginning that I wanted a commitment from them, to remain together for the duration, to truly do life together. That group fell apart in early spring this year. It's no one's fault. People just had to go their different ways. Who was I to try to demand a life-long commitment from them? Things change, lives change, people move, etc ... After the demise of that small group, I emailed the "connect" director at my church to be placed in a new one and that I was also willing to lead a one-on-one mentoring group. I was promised that they would get back with me very soon. That never happened. I have just let the creep in lately that since so many attempts have failed, it must mean there is something wrong with me. A couple of weeks ago my pastor taught on intimacy and immunity and technology. I was hit hard by the idea that I sometimes use technology (Facebook, my blog ... ) as a means to replace real intimacy that's lacking in my life. I use those avenues to gain approval or affirmation instead of actively building into people and giving of myself in true relationships. It was at that point that I decided to join the women's study on Believing God to try to open myself up to others for true intimacy. I think it will be good but also a stretch for me. A stretch because I have a disdain for surface talk. I want to cut out all the surfacey "What do you do? Where do you live?" crap and get to the nitty gritty of things. This might actually be why I feel myself lacking in the friendship department. People ask me something on the surface level and I shut down for some reason. I am sure it shows on my face too because I'm told so often that I don't hide my emotions very well. So I'm sure the asker gets "put off" and any possibility of a future friendship forming is ruined. So again, I'm left thinking that there must be something wrong with me, when they choose to direct their safe questions to someone else that they interpret as a little more "safe." I just want to be real, cut the crap. Let's get to it.

Another thing I have been thinking about is the cynicism that harbors inside of me. I loathe chick flicks (the boy meets girl and fall in love after 3 dates movies). I can't stand them. And it's more than just a level of understanding that it's fairy tale. It's much more than that, much deeper. I can enjoy them at some level right up to the point where the boy and girl get back together at the end and it's presumed that they live happily ever after while the credits roll. But once I can see they are getting to that point I feel myself harden. I actually sense a shift inside. I can't explain it really. And when the guy and girl DON'T get back together in the end, I want to dance with glee on my way out! Take 500 Days of Summer for instance (SPOILER AHEAD!). Great movie all the way through I thought. I love those quirky kinds of movies. Loved the music, loved the actors, and actually loved the story. And what made it even better, for me, is that they don't end up together. She marries someone else. And I was ecstatic. It just makes me wonder why that is, why I feel that way. Am I dooming myself? Is this a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts? I don't know. But I think it's much more serious than just a knowledge that it's not real. It's like I'm afraid to let myself be happy or hopeful. It worries me. I heard a week or so ago - and now I can't for the life of me remember where - that "Every woman has the exact love life that she wants." It left me thinking, Could that really be true? I do believe that I sometimes hide from love (as a self-defense mechanism) to avoid the potential hurt but I still want a love life. I want someone to choose me as I am now, not as the me that I could be. I agree that on some level the statement is true. After all, if we want something bad enough we will create space for it in our lives and rearrange goals to achieve/attain it. But I struggle with the statement too and can't subscribe 100% to the idea. At least not yet. Will keep chewing on that one.

reality show immunity ...

I've been doing a lot of reading lately. Donald Miller mostly, Searching for God Knows What. It's no surprise to me really that I have taken away some important things from this book, as I have the other 2 of his that I've read.

In particular is one idea he talks about at quite great length. It's his lifeboat theory. Basically it's the idea that since original sin, we have all stopped getting all of our needs met in God, as we were originally designed, and started looking to others to fulfill those needs and for our affirmation. Because of this we all live in this state of mind as though we are all in a lifeboat and there's only room for 10 but there's 11 of us and so we have to decide who we kick out. And we're constantly fighting for our spot in the boat, trying to prove to everyone else how valuable we are, that we have our stuff together, and trying to convince everyone else that they shouldn't kick us out. We all try to get ahead of everyone else to maintain our position in the boat. It's as if this i the most dramatic reality show ever produced and we're competing for immunity in our daily challenges. We hear the narrator as he tells us what is at stake. We aren't just playing to say that we won, there's no million dollars waiting for the winner. We're playing for our lives. Literally. You get voted out of the boat and you die. Or that's what we think and how we feel. We do everything in our power to keep ourselves from being in that last position in the boat: the weakest, poorest, least successful, least contributing person (all by worldly standards) is the one in this position.

This theory has totally changed my worldview, completely revolutionized how I see myself and how I see others. It's changed my behaviors and transformed my heart in some areas, with many left to be changed. It used to be that when someone cut me off in traffic, I would go into a rage about just who does that person think they are cutting me off life that! How dare they?! My heart was against them. Now my heart toward them is softer and I find myself wondering whose lifeboat they are afraid of getting voted out of. It sometimes occurs to me to pray for them and so I do. It used to be that I myself felt the need to speed race everywhere, to be out in front, couldn't stand to have cars on all sides of me, trapping me in so to speak. I would cut people off and weave in and out. Now I realize that this was me just trying to get ahead in the boat, trying to keep as far away from the last position as possible. When I feel anxiety about how others think of me, I remind myself that I am not in a lifeboat about to be kicked out. When I feel as though someone isn't treating me, or someone else, as though I think they should I am able to realize that they feel desperate to cling to life just like everyone else. They can feel that something is missing in them and so they try to do everything in their power to keep others from seeing that they have a piece missing. But really in all their striving to cover up, the truth is revealed.

If one already had all their needs met, they wouldn't feel this desperation to hide the truth behind facades of "Look what I can do" or "Your life would be so empty without me." No pretenses. Just being at rest, effortless being. Jesus lived this way. He was who he was, without giving any weight to what others thought. He was unashamed. I have to say that seems like such a refreshing way to go about life. This reminds me of a passage in 1 Peter chapter 3: "What matters is not your outer appearance—the styling of your hair, the jewelry you wear, the cut of your clothes—but your inner disposition. Cultivate inner beauty, the gentle, gracious kind that God delights in" (The Message). It's an attitude, a lifestyle: to not strive for outward perfection but to live from inner grace, from a place that bleeds of the redemption already completed. That will be a goal of mine in the coming months. To feel secure knowing that I already have my Life Preserver. He already saved me. For good. I don't need immunity because I received mine when I was in about 2nd or 3rd grade and this immunity doesn't transfer to the strongest person next week. It's my immunity and it lasts forever. I'm in the only lifeboat that matters and there's no chance of me getting voted out.

Flashed up in my wildest dreams, the dark red blood streams
Stretching out like vast cracked ice
The veins of you, the veins of me like great forest trees
Pushing through and on and in.

Gliding like a satellite in the broken night
And when I wake you're there, I'm saved
Your love is life piled tight and high set against the sky
That seems to balance on its own.
(Snow Patrol, Lifeboats)

a little of each: past, present, future

So much has taken place since my last post. The biggest, and perhaps most important, is that come January I am moving back to Alaska, the place I fell in love with when I lived there previously from 2005-2007. It was actually right about this time 4 years ago that I first decided to pack up and move to Alaska to attend Alaska Christian College. You can read the progression of that story here, here, and here. Many will tell you that I came alive during my time there. My dad says that I became more myself. It really did transform me, which, I suppose, is one reason I'm returning. It's a missionary position for which I am required to fundraise all of my own support for the duration of my career there: $17400/year or $1450/month. I have moments (most of the time) when I am fully trusting this process to the Most High, boasting in my weakness so that his power will be made perfect. I have other (occasional) moments when doubt grips me and I am afraid. It's a process, one that will undoubtedly teach me much about faith, about God, about others on this journey with me, and about myself. I can't wait!

Also since my last post, I have parted ways with a woman that I have been friends with for 17 years now. We met sophomore year of high school (Fall semester 1992) in choir. She sat behind me and played with my hair and as someone whose primary love language is touch, I let her. We were fairly inseparable over the next several years. We made declarations that we would be each others' maid of honor, would always be best friends and nothing could separate us. In fall of 1998 we were roommates at KU and my personal reasons for being there were probably all the wrong reasons. I desperately wanted out of my father's house and saw college as a seemingly suitable way out, even though I couldn't pay for it. In the not even 8 weeks I was there, I attended class maybe 3-4 times. I slept. I partied. I ate. I managed to get a job at a hotel as front desk help. Personal tragedy struck early that semester and I found myself in literal shock in the ER. My "best friend" abandoned me when I needed her most because of something I wrote about her out of anger and frustration in a letter to my sister but never sent and she had found wadded up IN my trash can. I left KU feeling more alone and scared than I ever had in my entire life. She and I didn't speak for more than 2 years until she'd heard from a mutual friend of ours that my mother had passed away several months before that, and she called to say she was sorry for my loss. I was reluctant to let her back in because the pain of her turning her back on me was so profound and so irrevocable. But I chose to try to look past it. I forgave her and we tried to build our friendship again from there. But I never forgot that hurt, that wound and I think I had my guard up with her ever since, never able to fully trust her though I really wanted to. Sadly, from that point on, it seemed to be a repeated pattern: in my deepest times of need, my darkest hours, she was unavailable. She once told me, "I have enough problems of my own, I can't deal with yours right now" and that though she loved me she couldn't be my friend at that time. I remember the very next day I saw her at church and she acted like nothing had happened, as if she hadn't said any of it. I remember talking with a friend at that time (in early 2005) about wanting to end the friendship. But at the time, my way of dealing with conflict was to avoid it at all costs. I never mentioned it. I think I was so hungry for friendship, for connection, that I put up with it. Or I didn't think I was worth standing up for myself and told myself that's normal, it's what I deserve and nothing better. I was in a very unhealthy place at the time and I say that because I know I made mistakes too. I wanted to end it but I also couldn't reconcile that with "Love keeps no record of wrongs" so I said nothing and stayed. But I still couldn't help but notice that this was her pattern. She also once told me that she was/is the most selfish person I would ever meet. Over time, I really began to see and experience those words come to life and with a new clarity. I think those words that she spoke became a lens through which I viewed almost all of our interactions thereafter. I felt the friendship was over long before it actually ended and I believe I grieved it a long time ago (I would say 2005 or 2006 probably). Something happened about a year ago in our friendship that I believe was the "straw that broke the camel's back" - at least for me. I won't get into details but will say that I found myself deeply, deeply hurt by her again and we didn't speak for a few months. During that time, I began to discuss our friendship with trusted Christian friends and mentors and was advised to end it. More than one said it was an abusive relationship and I needed to get out. And over 4th of July weekend this year something else came up that ultimately led to my ending our friendship. I had prayed about it and talked with people for months and truly felt peace with the decision and once it was done I was relieved, as though a weight had been lifted and I was free to invest in other healthier, life-giving friendships. That I was so at peace and relieved with this said a lot to me, it told me that this was indeed the right thing. And I firmly believe that.

That process has taught me so much about friendships, about myself, God, and even my mother. Growing up with an abusive father, I remember at times wishing my mother would just leave him. I prayed for it, wished for it on stars and on birthday candles. It never happened and though I am eternally thankful now, at the time I was angry, hurt and confused at different times, and other times I was all of those things combined. Her commitment to stay had a lasting effect on me that only in the last month or so have I come to notice in my own life. I've had a series of semi-abusive relationships over the years, never physical abuse (aside from my father) which I have always thought to be easier to deal with. It's the emotional / mental abuse that leaves scars that don't heal and later may flare up and cause problems. I learned from my mother to stay, that it was okay and normal to be mistreated. I learned to put up with it and to avoid. I learned to stay when everything in me was telling me to leave.

I feel I need to make clear at this point that I love both of my parents deeply and feel no ill feelings toward either of them for the past. I have ALWAYS loved both of them and, like I said earlier, am grateful now that they stayed together and were more in love with each other in the months leading up to my mom's passing than I had ever seen before. They did the best they knew to do and did a fantastic job of it at that. My dad has grown and transformed so much under the Refiner's fire. He has always been a gentle, tender-hearted, loving man and now he shows it daily. I am proud of him and know that it is not my praise that matters. I know our Heavenly Father is proud of him too and that it is only by his grace that my daddy is who he is today. With that said, I know there will continue to be things that come up from my past that God will bring to the surface in my present relationships. I know this and welcome this as part of the journey back to Eden, part of the restoration of the glory I was originally intended to bestow, and the reconciliation to my Creator.

Needless to say, there have been some big things happening in me and through me. To hash them all out here would take an eternity but I would say that I've covered the biggest parts. The last 2-3 months I have discovered things in me that I didn't know were there, or more likely, I didn't know how to use. I can't put into words how it feels to stand up for myself, to draw a boundary line and say, "I will no longer let you treat me this way. I will no longer let anyone treat me this way!" It feels good. Tonight I am thankful that God calls me to come with him, not to stay where I am, stuck and frustrated. I choose to go: free and open to the journey.

they just love ...

I figure we have a lot to learn from dogs really. It seems they have a lot of things figured out if you ask me. Dogs seem to have this life thing figured out pretty well. They live totally un-self-consciously. They pass gas and they don't care. They don't care who sees them void. They could be the ugliest dog on the block but they don't know that and it doesn't keep them from prancing around like peacocks. They embrace who they are fully: skinny or overweight, white or black, pedigree or inbred, big dog or little dog. They are who they are and that's that. Kind of a refreshing thought isn't it?

They know what brings them joy and they just do it. "Oh look! A squirrel!" And off they go in blissful bounds. "Where's my toy? Where's my toy? Where's my toy?" They dart all around the house or yard until they find the one thing they most want at that moment. They play with abandon, unafraid of who's watching or how they look to someone passing by. They don't get bogged down by responsibility because they have none. And they can't say that they just don't have the time to do what they want, because they have nothing but time.

Some breeds (take mine for example) get joy from pleasing their masters. They obey because they know their master will be pleased with them and reward them, whether it's with a treat or just a loving rub on the belly.

They know what they like and what they don't like. Some love to swim, others won't go near the water. Some like chewy toys or ones that squeak and others just rip them to shreds. Some like the rope toys so they can play tug of war with their humans and others are more content playing alone. Some want to be cuddled and held and nuzzled, others don't. There are some that like to be scratched on the belly, some on the ears, some on the back, and still others just above their tail. Others are just happy to get any affection. There are no pretenses with dogs. There's no "Well maybe if I do this, I'll be more liked, more accepted by the others." There's no "keeping up with the Labradors" or "but the Great Dane down the street did it so I should too ... " It doesn't work that way. They are a species that is very accepting and all inclusive. There are no cliques in dog world. They make no judgments.

They do however have their way of "sniffing out" the bad seeds. By sniffing each others' "others" they can tell whether or not that particular dog is safe to hang out with. They trust their sense about such things. They sniff out if they can safely stick around or if they should retreat. (I can name a few times in my life when that particular ability would have been of great benefit to me!) But they can tell when they are in danger and they know to retreat or fight back.

Dogs are very forgiving. They don't hold grudges. They know that we as their humans make mistakes. But they just love us. They don't care that we don't always get it right; they just love. They love with their whole bodies. Wiggling, wily bodies!

Now, I realize that a lot of this is because they lack the capacity to make judgments or exercise free will really. But I still stand by what I said at the beginning. Yes. It seems to me that dogs have this life thing down pretty doggone well.

dog spelled backwards is ...

She offers her head for me to pat and she leans into it craving my attention and affection. When we are out walking, she sometimes will run ahead so that I can no longer see her, but realizing this she will always come bounding back until I catch up to her, or she'll run back to me as if to check in, to make sure that she's still okay. Once she has my approval or knows that she is still safe, she will walk with me a bit before running off again. She loves me with every part of her and when a storm comes or if she is scared she will crawl into my lap where she knows I will protect her and keep her from harm. I will put my arms around her and cradle her in my love for as long as she needs me to. She will tremble there until the storm has passed or until she knows that her world is safe again. When she has done something wrong she always comes to me with her head hung low. Once I have disciplined her and told her again how much I love her and how precious she is to me, she knows all is right again and she returns to being joyful. She is obedient, always so willing and eager to please me. I can see that she sometimes gets frustrated because she doesn't understand exactly what it is that I want. But together we work on it and eventually she learns. The more I love on her and the more she receives that love the more it shows in how she walks and carries herself, how she behaves, how she plays, the more evident it is in all areas of her life.

She comes to me enthusiastically and offers her love freely, without condition. It is sweet and pure and joyful. When I am upset or frustrated, she is patient and sits with me while I calm down and think things through. When I am sad, she comforts me and listens and is never judging nor condemning. She still loves me even when I am not able to walk with her or play with her. If I forget to feed her, she forgives me readily and loves me anyway. When I do not acknowledge her or pay attention to her she sits patiently and waits while I go about my business before returning to her again. And if I take too long, she always does something to get my attention and to make sure I know that she is still there asking me to love her and seems to promise that if only I would, oh the things she wants to show me! She is always sweet and gentle in spirit. She is playful and funny and has a sense of humor like no other. Her love for me is not conditional on anything I do. She is always ready with her love for me, it is always available.

(The first paragraph portrays Sophie, my 3 year old boxer, as analagous to me or us as humans, and myself as God. The second paragraph portrays Sophie as analagous to God and myself as human or humanity.)

I have learned so much through her: about me, about God, about my relationship with God. She has brought so much joy to my life in the last 8 months or so since I rescued her. I cannot imagine life without her, much the same way I cannot imagine life without God.