I'm sorry. I love you.

This morning, I sat in church with the harsh reality that people are going to hate you.  No matter what you do, how you live, where you are, someone is going to hate you.

Holly and I were searching for parking in the very crowed residential streets surrounding Bethany this morning.  We got chewed out by a woman walking her dog who we almost hit with the car [completely without our knowing].  Hol quickly apologized, and the woman countered with "'I'm sorry' isn't good enough.  Use your eyes!  Why don't you ask that church of yours to build you a friggin' parking lot.  Two of my friends have been hit by you fucking Christians."  Shaken, we found a parking spot and walked the three blocks in the rain to church.  "I'm sorry that just happened," I said to Holly.

And I am sorry.  It is such a weight on my heart that something accidental could cause such a negative reaction.  This woman already seems to have some serious anger against the church, and we only manage to exacerbate that.  I am broken over the fact that a near miss on a rainy Sunday further tainted this woman's view of our church and Christians as a whole.  But I don't know what to do to change this.

I don't like the fact that no matter what I do, someone is going to hate me.  I don't like that loving people does not guarantee love in return.  I don't like that just being nice to people won't fix the world.

But I know it doesn't matter what I do and don't like.

This is the verse that automatically popped into my head [I know, I know, Anna's making everything a teaching moment, la la la... sorry] after sitting down at church and writing those first two sentences.  Romans 12:18:

If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.

It's significant that this verse doesn't read "Live peaceably with all."  The beginning clauses are important.  This is not a guarantee of peaceful living.  It's hey love, live at peace with everyone you come into contact with as much as you possibly can.  Let your side of the relationship bring peace, bring hope, and take what you receive with grace.  And then I rewrote the Bible.  Awesome.

My tea's gone cold.

This is something I struggle with because I want everybody to love each other.  "Guys, stop fighting" is kind of my catchphrase.  But this is not a realistic worldview.  I have to accept the fact that there's going to be hatred no matter how I'm living.  In the face of this reality, I will live faithfully, love faithfully [or at least try].

My life will not be measured by how many people loved or hated me.  We will stop failing when we stop trying to succeed and start trying to establish Kingdom [thanks, Andrew Marin].

You are Light.

All of my friends who work on campus are really cool and involved in leadership, and therefore very busy with eating in Gwinn/engaging the culture and changing the world/not hanging out with me at lunch time.  So I went on up to Martin Square with my water bottle and yogurt and read Ephesians.

Paul's cool.  I'm a fan.

Take a look:

"Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience.  Therefore do not become partners with them; for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.  Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord."  Ephesians 5:6-10

I always thought the verse was "for at one time you were in darkness, but now you are in light."  But it's not that at all.  For at one time you were darkness.

You were darkness.

Those are powerful words.  With the addition of a little preposition, we turn into a victim.  I see someone stumbling around woods on a cloudy night with no flashlight.  I see a group of college students playing Fugitive on Whidbey Island, the warm hand in my hand the only contact with humanity, blind to whatever terrors lie in the darkness.

But we weren't in the darkness.  We were the darkness.

Maybe the first thing that comes to mind is the smoke monster from LOST, but the following images are much more terrifying.  Someone shrouded in darkness, bringing shadow and sorrow with them wherever they tread.  Negativity, discouragement, hatred, suppression, exploitation, all in this cloud of darkness.  Yes, we were this person.  I was this person.  I still have my moments.

But now you are light in the Lord.

You are light.  You are light. 

You know when you're sitting around a bonfire, and the sun has set, and the sky is that deep, deep blue, and you're sitting just close enough to the fire that your back is a little too cold and your front is a little too hot?  Everyone around you, talking, laughing, eating s'mores, is staring nowhere but into the flames.  When ensconced in darkness, we seek out any light.  And the smallest possible light is not drowned by the darkness.

The smallest spark is enough to light our path.

And you are light.

You are my light.

Now that's encouragement

Goodness.  Both the exclamation and the noun.

Yesterday, at Neilsen's:

I love this place.  It's the happiest place in the world.  There is light, coffee, pastries, happy little old people, strangers walking by outside just begging to be written about.  Oh, and a small beam of sunshine named Holly.

Thank you for this moment to not have expectations.  To sit and sip and read.  To escape from the sun, but still feel the summer.  To know that I am known.  Because there is great value in that.

Today, Jill and I walked down the ninety degree streets of Seattle, talking of religion and truth.  That is my most favorite.  I have learned to love answering questions with, "I don't know."  And I've learned that there is no shame in that answer.

Search.

My pastor asked me out to coffee to talk of Iona and Celtic Christianity.  I am more than excited.  I am also indescribably encouraged that someone so wise [and so cool] thinks the Celts had it right.  I was getting a little worried that my grafting onto their version of Christianity wasn't the best of plans.

But really, I think they are great.  I'm not sure about the assurance of angels, but I have to hold so tightly to the belief that everyone seeking the sacred truth of God [no matter under what name] to to be wholly respected and accepted.  This is so difficult to implement in reality, but if this is a part of our foundation, it's a good place to start. 

I have to accept that we are not doomed, that there is choice everyday, to encourage or destroy.  But the tension this brings up in regards to the redemptive work of Jesus is troubling: isn't that something not to be questioned?  Anything that undermines or weakens the power of Christ's death and resurrection...  but perhaps there isn't a lessening, but a necessary new emphasis on the resurrected Christ, and his continued work and presence in us - this is how we see new creation every day and how God is still at work in our world.  And I do love that; I feel as though the crucifixion is often too heavily emphasized to the detriment of the power of the resurrection.  Without the latter, the former means nothing.

It's hard though; you still have to question a lot of things: When someone walks up to you and says, "Why is there evil in the world?" what is your answer going to be?

To be hope-filling in the world, life-giving; not hopeless and life-draining.  This is what I subscribe to.  People of hope, harvesters of light.

Dear Pastor Phelps

Hold your sign and scream at me
And I’ll scream right back, honey.
Picketing soldier’s funerals doesn’t
Make what you believe the truth.
You’re so sure about your ‘elect’ness
But I’m sure about my God’s love.
I wish I could sit down with you over
A cuppa and talk and talk and talk.
Where are you from? Who is your
Family? Who do you love? What
Is significant in your life? Can you
Tell me your life story? Please?
Because standing on either side of
This street, with respective signage
And screams won’t change either of
Our minds. Can I listen to you? Will
You talk instead of preach? Will you
Listen, in turn, to what I have to say?
Next time I’m in Kansas, I’ll look you

Up and find out.

Lead me to the truth

“Anna, do you have quiet time?”

I skipped around this question, skirting the tickling guilt of a blatant “NO” staring at me bluntly.

“What does it mean to live as a Christian? And are you living that way yourself? Wow, that was a lot more profounder than I thought it would be. And then I said profounder and ruined the moment.”

I don’t get it – we could talk forever [and I mean that, probably for years on end] about these topics and ideas of church and worship and Christianity and prayer and ‘quiet time’ and community and what do you actually believe? Can you articulate it?

It’s fascinating to me to talk with people [ok, let’s be real, listen to people] and get down to the core of what they believe. Where are your views coming from? What ‘truth’ is ingrained in your theology?

“And are we sinful because we sin or because it’s in our nature?”
“It’s in our nature.” No hesitation.
“Interesting. Continue.”

Where are you getting truth from?

The Bible.
From pastor’s lips.
Books on spiritual formation.
Moments on top of mountains.
Song lyrics.
Conversation.
Blog posts.
Dreams.
Photographs.
Strangers.

Are you going to tell me that my truth is wrong?

This summer has been good to me, especially these last days. The time spent with Jill, with Val, with Nate, all the conversations, all the music obsessing, all the thoughts.  It's just been good.  Shakespeare and coffee dates and Aslan in the car and letters and hugs and love. 

God's restorative power has been displayed in so many ways [who knew I could heal?  who knew family could be so close?  who knew we could be friends again?  who knew we had so much in common?  who knew the security in speech?].  I am unworthily learning how to speak with my God, what prayer means, why it is important.

New ideas [too many of them?] circle in my mind, mixed with literature, harmonies.  How can an evening spent hiking on an island in Scotland, buffeted by the wind, watching the sunset on the longest day of the year hold just as much meaning as an evening spent making dinner and watching RENT with a dear friend?  Significance is where you place it.

Be floored by a moment today.  Let it take your breath and leave you reeling with its importance.  If it's a stranger holding open a door, a moment where all you can hear is the birds in the tree outside your window, someone who is genuinely glad to see you, or God's audible voice screaming at you to just shut up and listen!

I don't know if it's the caffeine talking, the high from the double bass and banjo, or something akin to joy... but time is stretching boundlessly before me.  And I'm so thankful for the chance to see where I'll end up.

1 John 4:8

Slumped in the dark, talking to God
[Talking to myself]. I just ask
Questions –
Broad, open ended wonderings.
Unanswerable. Or unanswered?
Coming to terms with how
Broken
This year left me – that ten days of
Sea breezes didn’t heal everything.
Turning the psychoanalysis inward,
Realizing it comes down to
This:

“It felt like this empty word that you just
Threw around with no meaning behind it.”

The whole point of my life crumpled,
Flung to the side, an utter failure.
Fuck.
Words written in January caused a crippling
Doubt; walls went up instead of bridges.
Don’t you understand:
I’ve no idea where I should go,
What I should do.

Will you answer me already?
Will you take this self-destructive
Blame?
Will you help me to forgive, to heal,
To know worth?

God [whom I can’t call father] –
If you are not love then nothing
Matters anymore.

"It makes a difference, doesn't it, whether we fence ourselves in, or whether we are fenced out by the barriers of others."  -E.M. Forster

In Starbs, while reading Andrew Marin

"Christians talk too much because we really don't know what to say and how to say it.  It's time to pay more attention to living out what we believe instead of always trying to say it."   -Andrew Marin

Here's what I'm thinking: the love of God.  This is what has been given to us and this is what we are called to give to the world.  What did Billy Graham say?  "It is the Holy Spirit's job to convict, God's job to judge and my job to love."  I'm not sure it could be put more succinctly than that.  Our call to make sure the world knows about the love of God means that we have to be constantly aware of what this love is, where God is moving, and what approaching others with an attitude of love looks like.  While God's love is unchanging, my understanding of it is small, shifting as I learn more about His nature and our world and people and relationships.

I just got so freaking excited about love around the middle of freshman year that I think I stopped searching.  I had found something that made so much sense, I said, "Yes!  This is it!  Sweet.  I figured it out," and I sat back with my composition book full of verses, all ready to hug everyone I saw.

But my definition of love has been changing ever since then: this is not something from which to flee, but for which to be grateful.  It means that God is still moving.

It all comes down to this [wait until tomorrow when things have changed]: respect, unquestioned respect for everyone (including that homeless man whose eyes follow you on the sidewalk, those high school girls sitting two tables away who can talk of nothing but boys, those homophobic legalists who just happen to be related to you, oh and your best friends); an earnest desire to listen to and understand the stories of those people with whom your path will cross: to listen without judgement, to listen without formulating your counter argument, to listen without the agenda of wanting to change whatever the other believes, to listen and come alongside and live life together, seeking truth together; to be willing to change, whether this means our plans, our beliefs, our words, our opinions, our goals; a commitment to the fluidity of what it means to live in the Spirit: while He does not change, our understanding will; and to live what we claim as truth [the world reads Christians, not the Bible].

This is love to me.  Too broad a definition?  Well then, what's yours?

This is what makes sense right now.  I still don't know how to talk to God.  I still don't know how to talk to people.  But I'm trying to learn.  While my fingers shake from caffeine in my veins and Bon Iver softly croons, I honestly can't tell if I'm panicking or excited.  I'm just trying to learn, trying to not be afraid of change and movement, trying to find my voice so I can say, "Yes, He loves you and there is nothing you can do to increase or decrease that love."

That's all I've got.

“But Matt, don’t you understand? God is bigger than this issue, and therefore, so is our faith. We can’t pin God down and ask for specifics, refusing to move forward until He spells out what is sin and what is righteousness. Your being gay is just one part of you. By letting that be the only thing that matters between you and God, then you’re never going to get anywhere. Think of this: what if I defined myself as an asthmatic and only that? I’d argue with God over why He had created me so imperfectly and ask for healing. But I’d be cropping myself, not offering all of me to God. God loves me, all of me, and my worship is not less worthy because sometimes it’s a bit breathless. My asthma does not define me before God.”

“I find it a little bit disturbing that you’re comparing your disease with the essence of who I am.”

“Is being gay the essence of who you are?”

My mind said ‘yes’ immediately, but I sat there and thought about it, mouth open like an imbecile, for a few moments.

He said softly, “I don’t think it is. I see you: you’re introverted, thoughtful, brilliant. You hate books and hate seeing people hurting. You don’t like confrontation but are willing to have hard conversations. You are seeking after truth and wanting to respect people. Your mind works in ways mine never could and all of this would still be true even if you weren’t gay.”

“I think I’m missing your point.”

“Does God love me any less because I have asthma? Because I’m sometimes off key when I try to harmonize? Because I lost my temper and yelled at Claire last night? Because I’m willing to wrestle with Him over thoughts and doctrines that don’t make sense?”

“No.”

“Right. And God doesn’t love you any less because you’re gay.”

“But-“

“No! You can’t contest that, Matt! God would not love you more if you were straight. Ok?”

I sat with this for a minute, then breathed, “Ok.”

On Truth

Sometimes, during sermons, I accidentally get really distracted by my notes.  Pastor Phil talked on freedom this morning [oh, how appropriate] and John 8:31-38.  Slavery to sin, the truth will set you free, and so on.  I got distracted, and think I distracted Nate beside me as well with mad scribblings.

Truth leads to life.  Sweet, awesome, yes, this is right.  But an issue [so much tension] arises when we believe that truth leads to life but we narrow down truth to this one tiny thing we believe.  Because of this, anyone who doesn't hold to this one tiny thing is falling into death.  And we're like, 'oh no!  must fix their life! here is the truth!' causing their [understandable] reaction of 'hey man, calm down.  I've got some truth.'  But their truth seems wrong because it's not our truth: cue massive screaming matches.  But, but, but it's the Truth; and this tiny part that we have a weak grasp of understanding on is a tiny little part.  And Jimmy over there, at whom you're screaming, has grasped a little tiny part of the truth, too.  Just because it's a different part of the truth does not make it less true.  Because God is truth, and therefore we can't fit truth inside our heads.  We have to let go of the idea that our truth is the only truth, and start respecting everyone who is seeking after truth.  Ok?  Ok.

I love it when I'm distracted by myself.

On Willingness

There's a great possibility that I have fallen completely in love with you at some point in my life. 

It's like my heart can't be tamed: I fall in love every day.  And I feel like a fool.

This weekend was exhausting.  Show at the Q.  Time with friends (from two worlds; I love it when they mix).  Sleeping in a bed not my own.  Bus riding, sun burning, hippy-kid watching, mac'n'cheese eating, photo snapping. [I love my Jilly].  Melancholy.  Thanks be to God.  Snacks.  Warm fuzzies.  Running, screaming intimidations, posing, laughing, cupcake eating, playground playing, finding true love.  LOST.

Today is Monday.  Today begins week number nine of this quarter.  This is ridiculous.  This year has turned out so much differently than I ever could have imagined.  While I never would have wished for about 90% of the things that went down, I have grown so much and it's been so completely worth it.

God is really good.  And He is really big.  And His plans are so much greater than anything I have in mind.  He is teaching me so much about letting go of my plans, of my vision, of my own petty control seeking.  He is teaching me to look to Him first when things start going south.  He is teaching me about hope and joy even when things suck, even when it's been raining for six months, even when everyone is complaining and crying and broken, that He is still good.  He is teaching me about encouragement, and how giving is so much more rewarding than taking ever could be.  He is teaching me about people, and love, and inspiration found in the most unexpected places.  He is teaching me how to break down the walls around my heart again, to be open and genuine in terrifying places.  He is teaching me to be still, to be silent, to be His.

And you, Solomon my son, know the God of your father and serve him with a whole heart and with a willing mind, for the LORD searches all hearts and understands every plan and thought. If you seek him, he will be found by you, but if you forsake him, he will cast you off forever.    1 Chronicles 28:9

I am so tired.  It seems as though I've not gotten enough rest since the first of the year.  But I'm learning that love doesn't wait for us to feel better.  Calling doesn't pause until we've had a nap.  Opportunity doesn't stand to the side until we're finished with that paper.  We are called to love, and called to love now.  Even though it's hard and painful and exhausting and unrewarding.

This is my call.  I will not flee from it.

Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.     Romans 15:7

I think what I'm trying to say is that I've learned that God has work for me to do all the time: in the best moments when it's so much happiness to be doing so, but also in the moments where I want to curl up in a ball and not talk to anyone ever.  And it's not ok for me to wait until I'm ready to start doing this work; this isn't about me.  God can work through me even when in every sense I have been exhausted: He is bigger than that.  I just need to be open. 

And that is my prayer.

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!" Isaiah 6:8

On a Love like This

Even

after

all this time

the sun never says to the earth

'You owe me.'

Look

what happens with a love like that

it lights the

whole world.

-Hafiz

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper,  I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attetion, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

-Mary Oliver

I have come into this world to see this:

the sword drop from men's hands even at the height

of their arc of anger

because we have finally realized there is just one flesh to wound

and it is His - the Christ's, our

Beloved's.

I have come into this world to see this: all creatures hold hands as

we pass through this miraculous existence we share on the way

to even a greater being of soul,

a being of just ecstatic light, forever entwined and at play

with Him.

I have come into this world to hear this:

every song the earth has sung since it was conceived in

the Divine's womb and began spinning from

His wish,

every song by wing and fin and hoof,

every song by hill and field and tree and woman and child,

every song of stream and rock,

every song of tool and lyre and flute,

every song of gold and emerald

and fire,

every song the heart should cry with magnificent dignity

to know itself as

God:

for all other knowledge will leave us again in want and aching -

only imbibing the glorious Sun

will complete us.

I have come into this world to experience this:

men so true to love

they would rather die before speaking

an unkind

word,

men so true their lives are His covenant -

the promise of

hope.

I have come into this world to see this:

the sword drop from men's hands

even at the height of

their arc of

rage

because we have finally realized

there is just one flesh

we can wound.

-Hafiz

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing you place
in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver

On Assignment Number Three

I really don't like rhyming.  And really don't like busting out a poem in fifteen minutes flat and turning it in for a grade.  But what are you going to do at midnight on a Tuesday?  Sleep is more important right now that being the next T.S. Eliot.

a silence that speaks.

The universe is as small to God
As a poem is to a poet.
Held in his hands and seen from above,
Jehovah alone can know it.

The intricate rhymes and delicate meter
Make sense to his Creator’s mind;
While creation sits ‘low, scratching its head,
Surrounded by a world to remind

Of his infinite glory [the grandeur of God]:
So much bigger than we can perceive.
Father Almighty, Creator of all;
These gifts that you’ve made, we receive.

His place in this world, though, is questioned by some:
Where dwells this Maker we seek?
Found outside our reason and outside our realms,
His absence, a silence that speaks.

Too big to be known, too grand to be shrunk
And to fit inside thoughts in our heads.
He created the world, like I’m typing these words,
Carefully weaving the threads.

All knowing and powerful, Lord of all life:
How can I see you on earth?
The better question, though, is how can I not
See the signs of your unbounded worth?

Proof of your love screams from all that I see
Each moment that I am awake:
The trees and the words and the people you’ve made
Overwhelm me with a joy-filled ache.

I thank you, my God, for creating the world
Though we’re failing and falling each day.
Keep making me new and open my eyes
To the beauty and grace you display.

---

There's that.  There's that.

On Sun Soaking and Wind Sweeping

As Jill and I chatted about earlier on the sun soaked and wind swept beach, wasn't this quarter supposed to be better than last?  Wasn't all that crap supposed to be left back in the winter, and the doors opening on spring would be crap free?

All the good thoughts in the world don't add up to what we always want, though.

It's further details opening up wounds that had just healed.  It's stories like this.  It's sleeplessness.  It's noise when quiet is needed.  It's silence when words are neccessary.  It's absence.  It's promises that mean nothing.  It's broken harmonies.  It's heavy sighs.  It's regrets.  It's wanting to love.  It's too much with no acknowledgement.

The deepest part of You is where I want to stay
And feel the sharpest edges wash away.
But when I close my eyes, and feel You rushing by,
I know that time brings change, and change takes time.

I can't right now.  I'm not sure if you understand that.

On Sleep and Yesterday

Let's face the facts here: I am really bad at sleeping.

Most people who know me know this.  I'm just a picky sleeper.  It needs to be quiet.  It needs to be dark.  It needs to be not too cold but not too warm.  And it needs to not be moving.

Alas, even when all of these criteria are lined up nicely, sometimes the sleep refuses to come.  My mind won't turn off, my heart won't stop racing, my thoughts won't subside, my twisting and turning will not be stilled.

Rats.

I'm conditioned to function pretty well on limited sleep.  But it makes me crabby and impatient.  Sometimes, I don't realize, but I did yesterday.  First the line at Gwinn for lunch...  And second, wanting to rip off the head of the girl sitting behind me in UFND who was crunching on ice for the last hour of class.  Oh my gosh, I was so mad.  But I looked at myself (that's a fun trick), and said, "Hey, calm down a little.  It's just ice.  Don't even worry about it.  You're supposed to be Miss Mellow.  Let's get back to the happy place, ok?"

Speaking of happy places, yesterday (after the ice crunching) was fatastical. 

Salmon 'n' chips and pier wandering.

Jumping pictures and frozen fingers.

Toilet paper wrappings and condiment naming.

Jesus videos and laughing laughing laughing.

I love celebrating people.  And I love Michael.  So it was a great, happy, super, apple slices happy time.  Love when the four of us are together.

Photo Credits: Em Weissman

All this to say: in the midst of sleep deprivation, not really wanting to be here, a lack of motivation to try at school, and really cold hands, God is good.  He provides.  In reminders of his love: through adventures with friends; through hugs and words of affirmation and cups of tea; through the community of group mixed with the musical feel of chapel; through a corner of my desk with lantern, sister picture, flowers, and balloon; through cancelled class; through so many things, He reminds me that I am His and all will be well.

On Provision

Life has sufficiently run me into the ground.

These past months... I don't think I have the words.  Discouragement, uncertainty, shock, accusations, hurt, tears, sleeplessness, silence, heartbreak...

But also peace, certainty, trust, contentment, communication, laughter, understanding, and healing.

I'm slowly learning how to live by being shown how not to live.  By being led patiently by the hand by a loving Father.  By being taught that I can't expect others to love well, how none of us can love well, because our own selfish desires get in the way.  But He forgives, and holds, and heals.

I have nothing but peace from my God.  I beg to continue to be broken down (why stop when we're on such a roll) that nothing would be mine: that it would all be His.

And He provides.  In the moments when those who were supposed to love me most ripped themselves violently away, He never left.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."  Matthew 11:28-30

Yes, He provides:

With much needed talks with my old roommate while sitting in wooden chairs outside an independent coffee shop whilst eating pie in the early spring sunshine, sharing our struggles and heart breaks and hopes.

With walking onto a familiar floor and having a dear friend recognize me just by laughter.

With sitting in a green round chair with the wind playng songs among pictures pinned to blue fabric, eyes tracing words of genius in an extraordinary novel.

With sitting at a counter, eating a snickerdoodle and drinking hot cocoa at a local bakery and learning about old age while humming along to the Rent soundtrack.

With watching episodes of Glee with two dear friends on a scary floor.

With eating leftover Mexican food and remembering all the fun of Friday night, including Dave's children, the Original Squeeze, and the train going into the tunnel (I love you guys).

With being the opposite of productive for what I'm sure was several hours.

With yelling, "We'll miss you," eating cookies and complaining of a cat-like bacon stench.

With watching X-Men with two of my favorites.

With sitting on the floor of my room, listening to Coldplay, running my fingers through Jill's hair again and again.

With Sunday Funday.

With walks in solitude.

Thank You for not abandoning me, even when all else fails.

"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever."  Hebrews 13:8

On Headaches

On Tuesday, I got the idea for a new piece [of yet undecided length] titled BELL CURVE, or the Normal Variance of Emotion Experienced by Any Given Congregation in Any Given Worship Event on Any Given Day.  Sometimes, I really like subtitles.

I want to follow five people, see what their lives are like for a little while, and see why their emotions are as they are in a chapel service on, let's say, a Tuesday morning.  The five variants:  Ecstatic, joyful, indifferent, prayerful, inconsolable.

And then about a minute and a half ago, I came to the realization that I experienced the two extreme ends of my bell curve, only one day apart from one another.  How is this even possible?

On Tuesday, in chapel, blown away by Suzzane Wolfe, adoring the worship, praising God for the sun, for the happiness welling up in my heart; unable to stay still in the peace radiating throughout my life.  What joy!  What blessing!

On Wednesday, crumpled on the carpet of Upper Gwinn, unable to fathom the unique ability I have to hurt others without trying; ceaselessly apologizing to God, unable to do anything at all to alleviate this situation.  What confusion.  What utter sorrow.

Silly writing, being able to predict things that will happen in my life.  Stop that.

Here's an excerpt:

You've never woken up screaming before.  You've woken up abruptly, so many times I've lost count [I don't know if you know that I know this, but I do].  Sitting up with a gasp, the movement of your lofted bed shakes mine down below.  I never know if I should say something ["Hey man, you ok?"], so I pretend to just still be asleep.  But I hear you crying sometimes after these episodes of jolting out of sleep.  But you've never woken up screaming before.  This is different.  You're scaring me.  Are you ok?

On Questions

John Wesley's Small Group Questions:

1. Am I consciously or unconsciously creating the impression that I am better than I am?  In other words, am I a hypocrite?
2. Am I honest in all my acts and words, or do I exaggerate?
3. Do I confidentially pass onto another what was told me in confidence?
4. Am I a slave to dress, friends, work, or habits?
5. Am I self-conscious, self-pitying, or self-justifying?
6. Did the Bible live in me today?
7. Do I give it time to speak to me everyday?
8. Am I enjoying prayer?
9. When did I last speak to someone about my faith?
10. Do I pray about the money I spend?
11. Do I get to bed on time and get up on time?
12. Do I disobey God in anything?
13. Do I insist upon doing something about which my conscience is uneasy?
14. Am I defeated in any part of my life?
15. Am I jealous, impure, critical, irritable, touchy, or distrustful?
16. How do I spend my spare time?
17. Am I proud?
18. Do I thank God that I am not as other people, especially as the Pharisee who despised the publican?
19. Is there anyone whom I fear, dislike, disown, criticize, hold resentment toward, or disregard?  If so, what am I going to do about it?
20. Do I grumble and complain constantly?
21. Is Christ real to me?

Just something to think about.

Romans 12:12

On Goodness

All of my life,
In every season,
You are still God:
I have a reason to sing;
I have a reason to worship.

I start again with these lyrics, because they ring so true.

All of my life

Every single day, every single second, He is good.  From the moment I fall asleep until the [few] hours later when the buzzing of my phone brings me back into waking, what more can I scream but words of praise?  You are good.  You are love.  You are provider, protector, planner, author, perfector, everything.

In every season

In the midst of waiting for the bus in the rain after wandering for many a minute around the residential streets of Queen Anne attempting to find that ellusive brick building of the library;
in the midst of sitting on a couch, phone cupped tightly in anxious fingers, imagining two beautiful souls reading rhyming clues and running to various familiar locations to act like fools;
in the midst of screaming rounds of Scattergories, impromptu punch making, Spanish films, and sneaking off the brother floor;
in the midst of moments of crippling doubt whilst standing in a congregation, thoughts that make me want to melt into the floor and never pray again;
in the midst of sunshiney and perfect time walking through booths of typewriters, organic fruit, and old books;
in the midst of hours of reading and nothing crossed off the to-do list;
in the midst of moments of oh shit, what do we do now?;
in the midst of sitting in the hallway, surrounded by UCOR materials, listening to Rhapsody in Blue (and the Glee soundtrack coming from the bathroom), trying to write words that can convey thoughts that are so much bigger than words can hold [I love you.  You amaze me.  Thank you for being in my life.  You are so great.  Keep holding on.];
in the midst of trying to encourage, and always feeling inferior.

You are still God

Thank You.

I have a reason to sing

Um, You are God, even when I'm flipping out, even when I'm stressed about school, even when bills are passing and countries are rattled and roommates are bawling on the other side of a wall and the church is segregated and not Your body and there are no answers to how we're supposed to fix anything... You are God.  You are good.  You hold us.  You have so much more in Your hands, and we are blind and small minded and need to just hold on to You, trusting that it will all be amazing.

I have a reason to worship

Love.  Joy.  Peace.  Patience.  Kindness.  Goodnes.  Faithfulness.  Gentleness.  Self Control.
He lives in me.

I could not be more at peace.

On Blessings

All of my life,
In every season,
You are still God:
I have a reason to sing.
I have a reason to worship.

God is so good.  In the midst of super pressurized head, losing the ability to sleep through the night, registering nightmares, end of the quarter stresses, uncertainty about just about everything, He blesses immensely.

Yesterday was such a long day, and then class last night was incredibly sobering.  That room on the third floor of Demaray, usually filled with lively discussion, was silent.  A time for lament.  We need the church, because reconciliation cannot be lived entirely on our own.  But the church is broken.  We focus so much on how the church can serve us, how we can learn, how we can worship best, instead of coming to church in order to encounter God in a way that excludes no one.

The church is the most racially segragated institute in America.  How are we supposed to fix this?

Walking away with a heavy heart to stop at the C Store to buy some juice, God reminded me that He is still God in the midst of overwhelming questioning about the state of our church.  He meets us where we are, therefore the church doesn't have to.  He lifts us up, and reminds us of his goodness in so many ways.

In words spoken into my life from Lara.
In the promise of coffee with Dave.
In talking with Andrew as we climbed back to Hill.
In the freshness of meeting a potential new friend.
In a real life talk of how to build frienships while building that friendship even stronger.

Jesus is near.  Glory is here.

On God and Love (you know, the usual)

In small group on Thursday, someone mentioned the 'wedding passage' of Scipture (1 Corinthians 13), and how since God is love, we can replace love with God in this passage.  It's a beautiful illustration of the very character of God, and takes some of the cliche out of these verses.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not God, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging symbol.  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have faith that can move mountains, but have not God, I am nothing.  If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not God, I gain nothing.

God is patient, God is kind.  He does not envy, He does not boast, He is not proud.  He is not rude, He is not self-seeking, He is not easily angered, He keeps no record of wrongs.  He always protects, always truss, always hopes, always perseveres.

God never fails.  But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.  For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfection dissappears.  When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.  When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.  Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and God.  But the greatest of these is God.

I really like this.

One other thing:  In Reconciliation on Tuesday, we were talking about communion and otherness and the article I mentioned in my last post.  One of the most powerful points brought up is that the Trinity is our ultimate example of unity.  The three persons of God are so different and distinct from one another, but they are completely unified with each other.  Our professor illustrated it as three people locked in an embrace of love so strong it can never be broken.  In this they are completely unified, but do not in any way lose their distinctiveness.  In one sense, it is their differences that lead to unity.  Distictiveness is necessary for communion.

How do we take this and apply it in a world where difference leads to division?

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a sense of unity among yourselves as you follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Romans 15:5-6

On Communion and Otherness

The eschatological dimension, on the other hand, of the presence and activity of the Spirit, affects deeply the identity of the other: it is not on the basis of one's past of present that we should identify and accept him or her, but on the basis of one's future.  And since the future lies only in the hands of God, our approach to the other must be free from passing judgment on him.  Every "other" is in the Spirit a potential saint, even if he appears to have been or continues to be a sinner.

Everyone in the Spirit is a potential saint.  And we should accept everyone on the basis of their future, which is only in the hands of God.  I can't express how much this is on my heart.

How do we live in a way that is blind to past and present wrongs, in full assurance of the power of the Spirit to transform lives?  How do we empty ourselves, subject our will to God, move to meet the other - our neighbor - when our lives are splintered?  How do we get past fear and "love the other not only in spite of his or her being different from us but because they are different from us"?  How do "we live in freedom as love and in love as freedom"?

These thoughts are too big, and I feel like I've been run over by a freight train.  I want to understand, but these ideas seem just out of grasp.  I have innumberable questions, and questions about those questions, and questions about potential answers, and further potential questions.

Pause.

Breathe.

Be still.

The biggest challenge, obstacle, wall to be clambered over gracelessly that I'm encountering is to choose joy.  Sure, it's a beautiful revelation that joy is not an emotion, but an attitude, a lifestyle to be lived in the darkest of times.  But... how do we go about choosing joy?  What does joy look like?

I see it in the relationships between roommates, like Jill and Em, like Megan and Taylor.  I hear it in laughter echoing down the hall, from Kate and Lauren and Rachael.  I experience it in the strength of embraces, from Jessica and Brian and Chris.

But in the empty moments, in the quiet hours, in the lonely days...

How can I be joyful and sad at the same time?

Choose to build bridges in order to be a witness.
Choose to accept others based on their potential for goodness.
Choose to love without bounds or hesitation.
Choose joy.

This is the article (a different edition) from which the above quotations come.