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?
Showing posts with label struggles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label struggles. Show all posts
27 October 2009
06 October 2009
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.
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)
22 September 2009
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.
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.
02 June 2008
coming soon ...
I've been struggling a bit lately with this thought that I don't really have anything worth saying / writing. Especially in a blog that's public and permanent.
With that said, however, I do have some works in progress for the blog. I'd like to get back to posting regularly and hopefully someday soon I will be able to do that. I miss blogging, not just so that someone will read it, but for myself and for the processing that occurs within me when I write. (No, I have not even journaled lately and it's kinda scary to me that I haven't even done that.) I am computer-less right now, except at work and I don't like using that to post here, which probably has something to do with my lack of updates as of late. Anyone want to donate to the laptop fund? :-)
Stay tuned anyhow (if you still read this) for a new post.
With that said, however, I do have some works in progress for the blog. I'd like to get back to posting regularly and hopefully someday soon I will be able to do that. I miss blogging, not just so that someone will read it, but for myself and for the processing that occurs within me when I write. (No, I have not even journaled lately and it's kinda scary to me that I haven't even done that.) I am computer-less right now, except at work and I don't like using that to post here, which probably has something to do with my lack of updates as of late. Anyone want to donate to the laptop fund? :-)
Stay tuned anyhow (if you still read this) for a new post.
09 October 2007
shaking violently at the bars: part two
Again, I ask: Where would I start if I were to do so? Perhaps here: with the beauty and mystery of suffering.
I have come to realize through the many trials and sufferings that I have encountered that there, indeed, is a certain beauty and illuminating mystery to be appreciated. I have begun to learn to welcome suffering instead of fight it. The experience is richer that way for me, more vivid and full of wonder. More like teachable moments than like moments I want to push away from as though in a canoe pushing away from a predator on the banks and into the middle of a placid lake where life on shore can't reach me and, therefore, I sit unchanged and unaffected, unmoved. That's not the kind of journey I want.
I want the desert because I know that on the other side of this wandering is a promised land, something good and miraculous, abundantly flowing with proverbial milk and honey. The best part about this is that it's been promised to me. I want to be broken by God, as Israel was in the book of Hosea, so that only he can put me back together again. I want to be pruned so that I might bear much fruit. I want to be weak so that God's power might be made perfect in me. I want to live without pretense, and to live forward instead of backward; to have life more abundant.
For now, though, there's a certain sweet melancholy that gently holds my heart. Certain because it's one of the truest things I feel right now. Sweet the way watching a favorite sad movie over and over is sweet. And melancholy because that's the only way I know to describe it.
You see, I feel as though life for me right now is a bunch of paradoxes, a set of contradictions. I want to be known and seen but on the other hand I am still afraid to be known and seen. And I am also afraid to not be known and seen. I want to be as real to someone as the velveteen rabbit was to the boy, that real and yet not be a toy or a game. I want to build new relationships but a lot of the time I feel like being alone. And I want to let go of friendships that no longer are uplifting, but I'm afraid of not having new ones. I want to write because I feel there's something in me to be revealed, even if just for my benefit. But I'm afraid of my words. What will they reveal once they've been written? Will I want to take them all back? What will I come to understand about myself? About others? About God? What if there is something powerful in me waiting to be said? Will I be ready for that kind of responsibility, that kind of change? Mature enough to handle it? Or worse yet, what if I write and write and write and it reveals nothing new to me? There's nothing I have to say that hasn't already been said in a different way, perhaps using different words? What if I come to the end of it and I am unchanged? Will I be able to handle that far worse scenario? Would I be secure enough in my faith? What if I write and find I don't have much to say and that the feelings I have now were just wishful thinking and the result is nonsensical or incoherent? I want to write and I feel like a writer. But then other times I feel like a phony, like the words won't come out and I end up forcing them.
I want to love with reckless abandon but not lose myself. I want to give myself to my family - especially to those that I know won't be here much longer - but don't want to be hurt again. I long to go back to the places that meant so much to me in my childhood. It's as if there are secrets there that are whispering to me to come home, memories there to be unearthed. But how foolish might I feel if I go and find no secrets, unearth no memories? I want to set boundaries in my relationships but I look back and see that nearly all the boundaries I set in the past became walls that kept people people out or, at least, kept them from getting too close - close enough to hurt me. But they did anyway. I'm afraid of history repeating itself.
I need to trust myself with these things. More than that, I need to trust God with these things. I feel it is essential for my growth. What I somehow am capable of betraying myself? I knwo that can't stay where I am and also move forward. It has to be one or the other and I know that the one isn't getting me anywhere. I am tired but pushing off with my back foot in the starting block and waiting for the "On your mark! Get set!" and then the BANG of the gun. I am resting but persevering and enduring. I am a little melancholy but full of hope and wonder too.
Where is this narrow road leading me? Where will this desert take me, into what new promised land? What will these now blank pages reveal at the end? How will I have changed? Will I have fully and completely trusted God through the process? I am not strong enough to do this. No. But I do know that God is. And his power is made perfect in my weakness.
I have come to realize through the many trials and sufferings that I have encountered that there, indeed, is a certain beauty and illuminating mystery to be appreciated. I have begun to learn to welcome suffering instead of fight it. The experience is richer that way for me, more vivid and full of wonder. More like teachable moments than like moments I want to push away from as though in a canoe pushing away from a predator on the banks and into the middle of a placid lake where life on shore can't reach me and, therefore, I sit unchanged and unaffected, unmoved. That's not the kind of journey I want.
I want the desert because I know that on the other side of this wandering is a promised land, something good and miraculous, abundantly flowing with proverbial milk and honey. The best part about this is that it's been promised to me. I want to be broken by God, as Israel was in the book of Hosea, so that only he can put me back together again. I want to be pruned so that I might bear much fruit. I want to be weak so that God's power might be made perfect in me. I want to live without pretense, and to live forward instead of backward; to have life more abundant.
For now, though, there's a certain sweet melancholy that gently holds my heart. Certain because it's one of the truest things I feel right now. Sweet the way watching a favorite sad movie over and over is sweet. And melancholy because that's the only way I know to describe it.
You see, I feel as though life for me right now is a bunch of paradoxes, a set of contradictions. I want to be known and seen but on the other hand I am still afraid to be known and seen. And I am also afraid to not be known and seen. I want to be as real to someone as the velveteen rabbit was to the boy, that real and yet not be a toy or a game. I want to build new relationships but a lot of the time I feel like being alone. And I want to let go of friendships that no longer are uplifting, but I'm afraid of not having new ones. I want to write because I feel there's something in me to be revealed, even if just for my benefit. But I'm afraid of my words. What will they reveal once they've been written? Will I want to take them all back? What will I come to understand about myself? About others? About God? What if there is something powerful in me waiting to be said? Will I be ready for that kind of responsibility, that kind of change? Mature enough to handle it? Or worse yet, what if I write and write and write and it reveals nothing new to me? There's nothing I have to say that hasn't already been said in a different way, perhaps using different words? What if I come to the end of it and I am unchanged? Will I be able to handle that far worse scenario? Would I be secure enough in my faith? What if I write and find I don't have much to say and that the feelings I have now were just wishful thinking and the result is nonsensical or incoherent? I want to write and I feel like a writer. But then other times I feel like a phony, like the words won't come out and I end up forcing them.
I want to love with reckless abandon but not lose myself. I want to give myself to my family - especially to those that I know won't be here much longer - but don't want to be hurt again. I long to go back to the places that meant so much to me in my childhood. It's as if there are secrets there that are whispering to me to come home, memories there to be unearthed. But how foolish might I feel if I go and find no secrets, unearth no memories? I want to set boundaries in my relationships but I look back and see that nearly all the boundaries I set in the past became walls that kept people people out or, at least, kept them from getting too close - close enough to hurt me. But they did anyway. I'm afraid of history repeating itself.
I need to trust myself with these things. More than that, I need to trust God with these things. I feel it is essential for my growth. What I somehow am capable of betraying myself? I knwo that can't stay where I am and also move forward. It has to be one or the other and I know that the one isn't getting me anywhere. I am tired but pushing off with my back foot in the starting block and waiting for the "On your mark! Get set!" and then the BANG of the gun. I am resting but persevering and enduring. I am a little melancholy but full of hope and wonder too.
Where is this narrow road leading me? Where will this desert take me, into what new promised land? What will these now blank pages reveal at the end? How will I have changed? Will I have fully and completely trusted God through the process? I am not strong enough to do this. No. But I do know that God is. And his power is made perfect in my weakness.
29 August 2007
and so i wait...
Hi. As you know it's been a while since I have posted anything. Quite possibly this may be the longest I have ever gone without posting, especially posting something of my own since my last post was hocked off of John Eldredge. My lack of posting is due to a number of things really, none of which I can fully explain in a way that will enable you to understand.
I sit silently straining deeply inside myself to try and cover something up that can't be covered. I bury it. But then some time later these little sprouts, evidence of weeds that haven't been pulled out by the roots, start shooting up all over the place and the garden of my heart is a disaster again. I do some weeding, trying to pull them out by their tips but the pruning and pulling is painful and so I give up before I get to the root leaving evidence just below the surface. And all I feel is bare and ugly for a time. I am left with nothing but time to wish I could just go back to the days of long ago when I was lush with flowers and blooms of every variety and I bent toward the sun, untouched and unscathed by humanity and its depravity. I was fed continuously by the Gardener and drank deep from the water he provided. My soil was richer then. Before the evidence of the weeds some asshole planted in the Garden some thousands of years ago, because he was arrogant and afraid, began to show, ruining its true beauty and marring its glory forever after.
Lately, I have just had this longing. I don't know how else to describe it. A longing for life lived with reckless abandon and to explore and ultimately know what that would even look like for me. A longing to hole up in a cabin by the lake in the mountains somewhere and just write like Thoreau did. A longing to open a small new/used bookstore/coffee shop/cozy-corner-in-a-harsh-world in a small mountain town. A longing for family, not family of my own exactly, but my family, my childhood family. A longing for my mom. A longing for Jesus and to just know him so intimately that I am filled with an aching, and, again, to know what that would even look like for me. A longing for connections, for community. (I actually have a good community of believers, and non believers, at work but I want something that carries over to outside.) I have friends, don't get me wrong; and I am not desperate. It's just different than it was before I finally listened to my heart and what was being whispered to me there and decided I needed to go live in Alaska for 2 years and just up and left. Friends I had before I left I haven't heard from since I have been home; and a few people I knew on the surface before leaving have become more precious to me.
While I was away changing and growing, everyone at home was changing and growing too. Why did I not expect that and look for it? Why did I think I could just come back and re-enter everyone's lives like I had never been gone? And why am I now surprised to find that people moved on, found others to confide in, spend time with, call to make last minute plans? I feel as though I have been replaced. But I find myself turning to other "friends": the characters in the books I have been voraciously reading lately. That's just not normal. In fact, I sometimes consider that I might become this person that they'll make a movie out of one day. It will be all about how I plummeted into some dark false reality of living in the landscapes of the books that I read and my relationships with the people there.
Again, don't get me wrong. I have friends. I interact with people on a regular daily basis, in person and on the phone. And I have not started talking to imaginary people about their journalistic adventures in Africa or their own murder that they describe and investigate from their own version of Heaven or their road trips across country or their life on Cape Cod or in Nantucket. There's no need to call a therapist or have me committed. I do feel that it's a good thing that I am aware that it's not normal. I fully acknowledge that while it is easier to hide behind books than it is to step out from behind them and enter into actual relationships, it's, by all means, not healthier.
But I still feel a little vacant. I know this vacancy cannot be filled by other humans. It must be filled by the Holy Spirit. Quite frankly the idea of that scares me a little. And the knowledge that that scares me, scares me. Why would I prefer to cling to the company of men (used in the general sense of the word) – broken, imperfect, fallen, bound-to-hurt-me men – than to cling to God and his holy, unconditional, whole, heals-my-wounds, perfect love? It makes no sense to me. Why am I so stubborn? Why can't I just accept what's best for and being offered to me instead of "knowing" that I am, and will always remain, the single exception to the promise that God's grace is offered freely to those who will receive it? It's true. I just know that it's true for everyone else but not me. It doesn't matter how many times I hear it or someone tries to drill it into me that Yes, indeed. It is true for even you, Christina. It just will not sink in to my thick skull. Or my thick heart. Whichever.
Part of me is constantly battling those feelings of entitlement. I want what others have and I feel I have a right to these things: relationships, possessions, feelings, deep spirituality, a seemingly easy life, to have it all together, etc… Through talks with my friend, and chaplain here at work because I am so blessed to have one, I am learning that if I want to give up my wrongs (attitudes, feelings, actions, etc…) then I have to surrender my rights. I have to live free of the idea that I am entitled to or deserve anything good that I have in this world. The truth is, I don't. And, like Bill reminded me, Christ didn't deserve the Cross. It wasn't fair. But he did it anyway. Bill explained it a lot better than I am doing here, in a way that led me to one of those moments where you sort of sit back, smile, and soak in the light and truth that has just been unveiled to you as though shrouded for years under some great, dark, dusty lies.
It's frustrating to struggle with the same thing over and over and over again. To know the truth and still live in and believe the lie. To see light but remain in the dark like there's a thick "pain" of glass preventing you from ever truly getting there. You begin to chip away at it and it seems like the more you do, the more the little shards stick in you, penetrating deeper, until you're bleeding out everywhere. And so you stop the chipping because your bleeding heart is driving people away. And you start to believe that you will never make it through that wall. If only Someone could come and just shatter that pain of glass all at once, then you would be okay. Only it doesn't really work like that. It has to be a process. Otherwise the shock and hurt of that sudden shattering would probably kill a person. More than shatter the pain, it would shatter the life right out of them too. And you thought just the sight of a little blood was messy.
Just a couple weeks ago I was in Dallas with about 15 of my coworkers and friends. We went down to our new facility to have a service in which we dedicated the company, its customers, employees, the building, everything to God and gave it over to him in prayer. We shared in worship and communion together, celebrating what God is doing. Bert, the owner, and Bill, the chaplain, shared a word with us. They were words that I had been hearing from nearly everyone since I have been home, if not longer. We are all characters playing a role in a larger story. We are all here for a purpose. We may not know what that is this side of life, but have no doubt. Your role in this is important. We could not do this without you. You are vital to this company, to this ministry, to this extraordinary church we operate without calling it a church. It is you. And the hairs on my arms raised and my heart skipped and the corners of my eyes got leaky. Oh how I wanted so desperately for that to be true of me. To be a part of something larger than me. Beyond anything that I could ever dream up or imagine. Is this what I have been preparing for these last 30 years? Has it all been leading up to this? Is it here that I will find my true calling and fulfill my life's purpose and imbibe immense satisfaction? And my questions have gone unanswered. Or maybe I am just not listening and hearing, not tuned to his voice. How I want to be tuned to my shepherd's voice so that when I no longer hear it, I know I have somehow strayed a little too far from the flock and know to stay and wait for him to come and bring me back. And so I wait.
Abba, I thank you for unknowns, for the times in my life when I cannot clearly see the path or where it is leading me. I know in the past those are the times that I have had to learn to lean into you, to trust you with everything in me, even though it was a little scary. It was in those times that you took my mustard seed faith and increased it and showed me things that are far beyond my wildest imagination, more than I could have ever fathomed would be possible. You have a proven history of blessing me so much more than I deserve in the times when I have fully trusted you with the unknowns of my life. May I continue to seek you with fervor and to entrust all my moments, known or unknown, into your big and more than capable hands. Lord, I believe. Only help me with my unbelief and forgive me for my doubt of you. Forever and ever Amen.
I sit silently straining deeply inside myself to try and cover something up that can't be covered. I bury it. But then some time later these little sprouts, evidence of weeds that haven't been pulled out by the roots, start shooting up all over the place and the garden of my heart is a disaster again. I do some weeding, trying to pull them out by their tips but the pruning and pulling is painful and so I give up before I get to the root leaving evidence just below the surface. And all I feel is bare and ugly for a time. I am left with nothing but time to wish I could just go back to the days of long ago when I was lush with flowers and blooms of every variety and I bent toward the sun, untouched and unscathed by humanity and its depravity. I was fed continuously by the Gardener and drank deep from the water he provided. My soil was richer then. Before the evidence of the weeds some asshole planted in the Garden some thousands of years ago, because he was arrogant and afraid, began to show, ruining its true beauty and marring its glory forever after.
Lately, I have just had this longing. I don't know how else to describe it. A longing for life lived with reckless abandon and to explore and ultimately know what that would even look like for me. A longing to hole up in a cabin by the lake in the mountains somewhere and just write like Thoreau did. A longing to open a small new/used bookstore/coffee shop/cozy-corner-in-a-harsh-world in a small mountain town. A longing for family, not family of my own exactly, but my family, my childhood family. A longing for my mom. A longing for Jesus and to just know him so intimately that I am filled with an aching, and, again, to know what that would even look like for me. A longing for connections, for community. (I actually have a good community of believers, and non believers, at work but I want something that carries over to outside.) I have friends, don't get me wrong; and I am not desperate. It's just different than it was before I finally listened to my heart and what was being whispered to me there and decided I needed to go live in Alaska for 2 years and just up and left. Friends I had before I left I haven't heard from since I have been home; and a few people I knew on the surface before leaving have become more precious to me.
While I was away changing and growing, everyone at home was changing and growing too. Why did I not expect that and look for it? Why did I think I could just come back and re-enter everyone's lives like I had never been gone? And why am I now surprised to find that people moved on, found others to confide in, spend time with, call to make last minute plans? I feel as though I have been replaced. But I find myself turning to other "friends": the characters in the books I have been voraciously reading lately. That's just not normal. In fact, I sometimes consider that I might become this person that they'll make a movie out of one day. It will be all about how I plummeted into some dark false reality of living in the landscapes of the books that I read and my relationships with the people there.
Again, don't get me wrong. I have friends. I interact with people on a regular daily basis, in person and on the phone. And I have not started talking to imaginary people about their journalistic adventures in Africa or their own murder that they describe and investigate from their own version of Heaven or their road trips across country or their life on Cape Cod or in Nantucket. There's no need to call a therapist or have me committed. I do feel that it's a good thing that I am aware that it's not normal. I fully acknowledge that while it is easier to hide behind books than it is to step out from behind them and enter into actual relationships, it's, by all means, not healthier.
But I still feel a little vacant. I know this vacancy cannot be filled by other humans. It must be filled by the Holy Spirit. Quite frankly the idea of that scares me a little. And the knowledge that that scares me, scares me. Why would I prefer to cling to the company of men (used in the general sense of the word) – broken, imperfect, fallen, bound-to-hurt-me men – than to cling to God and his holy, unconditional, whole, heals-my-wounds, perfect love? It makes no sense to me. Why am I so stubborn? Why can't I just accept what's best for and being offered to me instead of "knowing" that I am, and will always remain, the single exception to the promise that God's grace is offered freely to those who will receive it? It's true. I just know that it's true for everyone else but not me. It doesn't matter how many times I hear it or someone tries to drill it into me that Yes, indeed. It is true for even you, Christina. It just will not sink in to my thick skull. Or my thick heart. Whichever.
Part of me is constantly battling those feelings of entitlement. I want what others have and I feel I have a right to these things: relationships, possessions, feelings, deep spirituality, a seemingly easy life, to have it all together, etc… Through talks with my friend, and chaplain here at work because I am so blessed to have one, I am learning that if I want to give up my wrongs (attitudes, feelings, actions, etc…) then I have to surrender my rights. I have to live free of the idea that I am entitled to or deserve anything good that I have in this world. The truth is, I don't. And, like Bill reminded me, Christ didn't deserve the Cross. It wasn't fair. But he did it anyway. Bill explained it a lot better than I am doing here, in a way that led me to one of those moments where you sort of sit back, smile, and soak in the light and truth that has just been unveiled to you as though shrouded for years under some great, dark, dusty lies.
It's frustrating to struggle with the same thing over and over and over again. To know the truth and still live in and believe the lie. To see light but remain in the dark like there's a thick "pain" of glass preventing you from ever truly getting there. You begin to chip away at it and it seems like the more you do, the more the little shards stick in you, penetrating deeper, until you're bleeding out everywhere. And so you stop the chipping because your bleeding heart is driving people away. And you start to believe that you will never make it through that wall. If only Someone could come and just shatter that pain of glass all at once, then you would be okay. Only it doesn't really work like that. It has to be a process. Otherwise the shock and hurt of that sudden shattering would probably kill a person. More than shatter the pain, it would shatter the life right out of them too. And you thought just the sight of a little blood was messy.
Just a couple weeks ago I was in Dallas with about 15 of my coworkers and friends. We went down to our new facility to have a service in which we dedicated the company, its customers, employees, the building, everything to God and gave it over to him in prayer. We shared in worship and communion together, celebrating what God is doing. Bert, the owner, and Bill, the chaplain, shared a word with us. They were words that I had been hearing from nearly everyone since I have been home, if not longer. We are all characters playing a role in a larger story. We are all here for a purpose. We may not know what that is this side of life, but have no doubt. Your role in this is important. We could not do this without you. You are vital to this company, to this ministry, to this extraordinary church we operate without calling it a church. It is you. And the hairs on my arms raised and my heart skipped and the corners of my eyes got leaky. Oh how I wanted so desperately for that to be true of me. To be a part of something larger than me. Beyond anything that I could ever dream up or imagine. Is this what I have been preparing for these last 30 years? Has it all been leading up to this? Is it here that I will find my true calling and fulfill my life's purpose and imbibe immense satisfaction? And my questions have gone unanswered. Or maybe I am just not listening and hearing, not tuned to his voice. How I want to be tuned to my shepherd's voice so that when I no longer hear it, I know I have somehow strayed a little too far from the flock and know to stay and wait for him to come and bring me back. And so I wait.
Abba, I thank you for unknowns, for the times in my life when I cannot clearly see the path or where it is leading me. I know in the past those are the times that I have had to learn to lean into you, to trust you with everything in me, even though it was a little scary. It was in those times that you took my mustard seed faith and increased it and showed me things that are far beyond my wildest imagination, more than I could have ever fathomed would be possible. You have a proven history of blessing me so much more than I deserve in the times when I have fully trusted you with the unknowns of my life. May I continue to seek you with fervor and to entrust all my moments, known or unknown, into your big and more than capable hands. Lord, I believe. Only help me with my unbelief and forgive me for my doubt of you. Forever and ever Amen.
07 June 2007
on clearing land...
Back to the subject of entitlement... This last Sunday I went to a new church, Risen Lamb International Church of the Nazarene. As I was walking in I was met at the door by a big bouncer/body-builder looking guy with tattoos all over the place; he was one of the greeters. Inside was a mixture of young, hip singles and elders, African-American and white. I was blown away by the music, mostly black gospel; the Holy Spirit was palpable and it left me in tears. I've never been to a church like it before.
But it was the message that caught, and holds, my attention even now, days later. In Joshua 17, Joshua had given the people of Joseph an allotment of land. Though they were large in number they occupied only a small portion of it at first. Then they went to Joshua and asked for more. Joshua told them that if they were so numerous and if the hill country was too small for them, then they could go up into the forest and clear land for themselves. They made excuses about why they could not and each time asked for more land. Joshua finally asked them, in chapter 18, "How long will you wait before you begin to take possession of the land that the Lord, the God of your fathers, has given you?"
Joseph's people felt entitled to more before they had fully taken possession of what they already had. They hadn't taken full advantage of what they had already been given and yet were asking for more. I am forced to look at what I have been given and ask of myself the same questions: How long will I wait before I begin to take possession of that which the Lord, the God of my fathers, has already offered me? Have I fully possessed everything I already have before asking for more? Or do I still have land to clear or something else that needs to be done?
The last few days, since hearing the message, I have been reminded of the Parable of the Talents:
"Again, it (entering the Kingdom of Heaven) will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave five talents of money, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey. The man who had received the five talents went at once and put his money to work and gained five more. So also, the one with the two talents gained two more. But the man who had received the one talent went off, dug a hole in the ground and hid his master's money.
"After a long time the master of those servants returned and settled accounts with them. The man who had received the five talents brought the other five. 'Master,' he said, 'you entrusted me with five talents. See, I have gained five more.'
"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!'
"The man with the two talents also came. 'Master,' he said, 'you entrusted me with two talents; see, I have gained two more.'
"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!'
"Then the man who had received the one talent came. 'Master,' he said, 'I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your talent in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.'
"His master replied, 'You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.
"'Take the talent from him and give it to the one who has the ten talents. For everyone who has will be given more, and he will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him. And throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'
Have I been a servant, good and faithful enough that I will double what I currently have? Or have I been the wicked, lazy servant, hiding my talents away, afraid that I might lose them, only to have them taken away from me in the end and given to one more faithful? Will I continue to be afraid of my master? Or will I trust him that he will provide and bless me with more when I have been faithful with little? He wants to bless me and I know that. So why am I so afraid?
Micah 7:7-8 says, "But as for me, I watch, in hope, for the Lord. I wait upon God, my Savior. My God will hear me. Do not gloat over me, my enemy. Though I have fallen, I will rise; and though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light" (NIV, emphasis added). I have been meditating on those verses the last several days and letting them sink in, along with the promises they bring to me. The Lord will show up. My God will hear me. The enemy has not won. I will rise and he will be my light.
But it was the message that caught, and holds, my attention even now, days later. In Joshua 17, Joshua had given the people of Joseph an allotment of land. Though they were large in number they occupied only a small portion of it at first. Then they went to Joshua and asked for more. Joshua told them that if they were so numerous and if the hill country was too small for them, then they could go up into the forest and clear land for themselves. They made excuses about why they could not and each time asked for more land. Joshua finally asked them, in chapter 18, "How long will you wait before you begin to take possession of the land that the Lord, the God of your fathers, has given you?"
Joseph's people felt entitled to more before they had fully taken possession of what they already had. They hadn't taken full advantage of what they had already been given and yet were asking for more. I am forced to look at what I have been given and ask of myself the same questions: How long will I wait before I begin to take possession of that which the Lord, the God of my fathers, has already offered me? Have I fully possessed everything I already have before asking for more? Or do I still have land to clear or something else that needs to be done?
The last few days, since hearing the message, I have been reminded of the Parable of the Talents:
"Again, it (entering the Kingdom of Heaven) will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave five talents of money, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey. The man who had received the five talents went at once and put his money to work and gained five more. So also, the one with the two talents gained two more. But the man who had received the one talent went off, dug a hole in the ground and hid his master's money.
"After a long time the master of those servants returned and settled accounts with them. The man who had received the five talents brought the other five. 'Master,' he said, 'you entrusted me with five talents. See, I have gained five more.'
"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!'
"The man with the two talents also came. 'Master,' he said, 'you entrusted me with two talents; see, I have gained two more.'
"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!'
"Then the man who had received the one talent came. 'Master,' he said, 'I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your talent in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.'
"His master replied, 'You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.
"'Take the talent from him and give it to the one who has the ten talents. For everyone who has will be given more, and he will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him. And throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'
Have I been a servant, good and faithful enough that I will double what I currently have? Or have I been the wicked, lazy servant, hiding my talents away, afraid that I might lose them, only to have them taken away from me in the end and given to one more faithful? Will I continue to be afraid of my master? Or will I trust him that he will provide and bless me with more when I have been faithful with little? He wants to bless me and I know that. So why am I so afraid?
Micah 7:7-8 says, "But as for me, I watch, in hope, for the Lord. I wait upon God, my Savior. My God will hear me. Do not gloat over me, my enemy. Though I have fallen, I will rise; and though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light" (NIV, emphasis added). I have been meditating on those verses the last several days and letting them sink in, along with the promises they bring to me. The Lord will show up. My God will hear me. The enemy has not won. I will rise and he will be my light.
25 May 2007
entitlement...
One of the things I have been struggling with lately is entitlement, feeling like I am entitled to things that others have or just that I am entitled to things period. For example, this year at graduation the valedictorian received a plaque and I caught myself thinking, I didn't get a plaque last year and I got a 4.0. He didn't even get a 4.0 and he got a plaque? Why didn't I get one? It's ugly and it's a part of me that I despise, like a cancer that I want cut out of me. I don't know why I feel this way, nor do I feel at all comfortable with it. And since I am being honest here, it's not really only a recent thing. It's been at the back of my mind and in the darkest caves of my heart for a while now.
I know that I am not entitled to anything, no one owes me anything. So why do I feel that way? And better yet, how do I stop feeling that way? Am I alone in this?
I feel as though I have had so many struggles and that I have endured about as many growing pains as I can take and I wonder to myself, What it would be like to just be normal? Normal like everyone else seems to be? It's not fair. And there I go with the entitlement thing again, like I am entitled to not struggle with things ever again. It's scary to me because to not struggle would be to stop growing and to stop growing, to me, is death or hell.
All of these things come up for me and they always leave me feeling unlovable, kind of like a monster. Now this, I know, is the devil's lies creating a stronghold in my life. Get thee away from me, Satan.
My dad has introduced me to a new method of prayer called centering prayer. It's communion with the Holy Spirit really. It makes prayer without ceasing come easier and being in the presence of God more constant and the fruits of the Spirit more evident and abundant. I have only tried it once and felt disappointed, like I did something wrong. But that was before I read about it instead of just following my dad's instruction. I am hoping that this form of prayer will cleanse me and that God's presence would be made real to me over time and that I will be freed from feelings of entitlement and feelings of being unlovable.
I have done a form of this type of prayer before, Lectio Divina, and have always enjoyed it and gotten much out of it. But I don't do it as often as I'd like. I don't pray as often as I'd like period. I am finding out that I am, in some ways, afraid of God and afraid of myself, of making a mistake while I pray. I have to do it just right, say just the right words, or God will ignore me, laugh at me, or strike me down or something. And if my mind wanders during prayer I think to myself, I must be a bad Christian. I can't even focus on praying without my mind wandering all over the place. Again, this, I know, is the devil's handiwork.
Satan cannot be present where God is present. I am really believing, present active participle believing, that God will continue to do a good work in me and that through these prayers I can come into a sweeter relationship with Christ. In some ways I worry that I have replaced a relationship with him with knowledge about him the last two years. I have learned so much in classes but have I learned too much? I am sure that it all isn't as bad as I make it out to be but it's a dangerous and risky thing to profess to be a Christian, to really knowing him, when really I know more about him than I know him personally. I don't know if that makes sense to anyone else besides me, if anyone else is reading this, but I suppose the only one it really matters to is me. And God.
I have often felt, thought, and experienced that when I go through struggles like this it's usually right before God uses me or does a great work in me. There's so much more to this story than what I can currently see. Again, I wonder what sort of tale I have fallen into.
I know that I am not entitled to anything, no one owes me anything. So why do I feel that way? And better yet, how do I stop feeling that way? Am I alone in this?
I feel as though I have had so many struggles and that I have endured about as many growing pains as I can take and I wonder to myself, What it would be like to just be normal? Normal like everyone else seems to be? It's not fair. And there I go with the entitlement thing again, like I am entitled to not struggle with things ever again. It's scary to me because to not struggle would be to stop growing and to stop growing, to me, is death or hell.
All of these things come up for me and they always leave me feeling unlovable, kind of like a monster. Now this, I know, is the devil's lies creating a stronghold in my life. Get thee away from me, Satan.
My dad has introduced me to a new method of prayer called centering prayer. It's communion with the Holy Spirit really. It makes prayer without ceasing come easier and being in the presence of God more constant and the fruits of the Spirit more evident and abundant. I have only tried it once and felt disappointed, like I did something wrong. But that was before I read about it instead of just following my dad's instruction. I am hoping that this form of prayer will cleanse me and that God's presence would be made real to me over time and that I will be freed from feelings of entitlement and feelings of being unlovable.
I have done a form of this type of prayer before, Lectio Divina, and have always enjoyed it and gotten much out of it. But I don't do it as often as I'd like. I don't pray as often as I'd like period. I am finding out that I am, in some ways, afraid of God and afraid of myself, of making a mistake while I pray. I have to do it just right, say just the right words, or God will ignore me, laugh at me, or strike me down or something. And if my mind wanders during prayer I think to myself, I must be a bad Christian. I can't even focus on praying without my mind wandering all over the place. Again, this, I know, is the devil's handiwork.
Satan cannot be present where God is present. I am really believing, present active participle believing, that God will continue to do a good work in me and that through these prayers I can come into a sweeter relationship with Christ. In some ways I worry that I have replaced a relationship with him with knowledge about him the last two years. I have learned so much in classes but have I learned too much? I am sure that it all isn't as bad as I make it out to be but it's a dangerous and risky thing to profess to be a Christian, to really knowing him, when really I know more about him than I know him personally. I don't know if that makes sense to anyone else besides me, if anyone else is reading this, but I suppose the only one it really matters to is me. And God.
I have often felt, thought, and experienced that when I go through struggles like this it's usually right before God uses me or does a great work in me. There's so much more to this story than what I can currently see. Again, I wonder what sort of tale I have fallen into.
20 May 2007
faith enough to jump...
I arrived in Kansas City for the summer on Friday afternoon after spending two years going to school in Alaska. I knew coming home would be hard and different and I had mixed emotions. When I left Kansas City in 2005 to go to Alaska, I had to meet new people, make new friends, encounter new experiences. I missed my friends from Kansas City. After two years I have grown used to life there, grown to love the people there, given birth to memories. I have also changed a lot inside the last two years - growing and stretching.
Now that I am home it seems like I have to do the same thing all over again. I don't feel "at home" where I am now. I feel as though there's not really a place I belong, there's not really a place for me to call "home" anymore. I am in limbo. I miss my friends from Alaska. I miss the mountains. I am also dealing with a lot too, spring cleaning for the soul, so to speak. God is revealing things to me that need healing. My self-image. My complete and perfect trust in God. My relationship with my dad. My relationship with myself. It's already been painful and difficult to be home and as more things surface, it will, most likely, only get worse. I am dealing also with some of my dad's pain and brokenness which in the past has always put me in an unhealthy place.
I am scared. I feel unsettled. I am out of my element. Broke. Unemployed. Immobile. Aching to have a family. I am plagued by dreams that I am being stalked... by celery. Facing thirty in less than a month with all kinds of shoulds in my mind and on my heart. Why do I always return there? I always come back to shoulding on myself, no matter how dangerous I know it is. I miss having solid, authentic, intentional relationships. I feel stuck somewhere between fear and hope. It's like I am standing at the top of a waterfall looking down. I am scared to jump but I also know that the sun is scorching and if I do let go and jump I could be refreshed and that at the bottom awaits beautiful new life to taste and see that it is good. But it's a long way down and the jump looks dangerous. Full of rocks and sharp edges ready to cut me. I know that if I push way out in front of me and trust the knowledge that others have been here and jumped and not only lived to tell about it but rejoiced in it as well for the blessings they received for doing so, I will make it and be greatly rewarded. If I could only have a little more faith.
I want to jump to the last page of this chapter to see how it ends. What are the things I will have learned about myself? About others? About God? What are the colors that describe this time? How does it end? Are the textures and details alluring? In what ways have I grown and stretched? Better yet, in the end, will I have had faith enough to jump?
Now that I am home it seems like I have to do the same thing all over again. I don't feel "at home" where I am now. I feel as though there's not really a place I belong, there's not really a place for me to call "home" anymore. I am in limbo. I miss my friends from Alaska. I miss the mountains. I am also dealing with a lot too, spring cleaning for the soul, so to speak. God is revealing things to me that need healing. My self-image. My complete and perfect trust in God. My relationship with my dad. My relationship with myself. It's already been painful and difficult to be home and as more things surface, it will, most likely, only get worse. I am dealing also with some of my dad's pain and brokenness which in the past has always put me in an unhealthy place.
I am scared. I feel unsettled. I am out of my element. Broke. Unemployed. Immobile. Aching to have a family. I am plagued by dreams that I am being stalked... by celery. Facing thirty in less than a month with all kinds of shoulds in my mind and on my heart. Why do I always return there? I always come back to shoulding on myself, no matter how dangerous I know it is. I miss having solid, authentic, intentional relationships. I feel stuck somewhere between fear and hope. It's like I am standing at the top of a waterfall looking down. I am scared to jump but I also know that the sun is scorching and if I do let go and jump I could be refreshed and that at the bottom awaits beautiful new life to taste and see that it is good. But it's a long way down and the jump looks dangerous. Full of rocks and sharp edges ready to cut me. I know that if I push way out in front of me and trust the knowledge that others have been here and jumped and not only lived to tell about it but rejoiced in it as well for the blessings they received for doing so, I will make it and be greatly rewarded. If I could only have a little more faith.
I want to jump to the last page of this chapter to see how it ends. What are the things I will have learned about myself? About others? About God? What are the colors that describe this time? How does it end? Are the textures and details alluring? In what ways have I grown and stretched? Better yet, in the end, will I have had faith enough to jump?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)