Charity Yost

Shade of a Glisten

2009-06-09T12:58:00.002-04:00

I plod through thick, dark mud and sit on the cold, concrete porch of a one-room schoolhouse.

What can be done in only a day here? I wonder.

In the distance, grey clouds droop until they seem to brush the tops of a hundred rusty tin shacks. Toddlers in oversized clothes play quietly and unsupervised between the scattered buildings. The older children roll old tires and collect sticks from the splotches of dirt and grass.

I am afraid of scaring them with my white skin and American accent, so I stay seated, observing. I prop my chin on the palm of my hand. My silver camera is tied to my wrist and dangles between my knees, its shiny surface greatly contrasting the dullness of my surroundings. So far in the trip, the memory card only holds landscapes of a war-torn country, not alluring native faces.

As I stare at the horizon, where the dirt meets the clouds, I feel a small hand tap my right leg. The sudden presence startles me. My shock frightens the Kenyan toddler, and she shyly takes a step back.

“Oh! Hi, there…” I say with a smile so big that it nearly turns the greeting into a laugh. Not knowing if she understands me, I try again, “Jambo.”

Silence. A crooked smile. A step forward.

She reaches out her little hand and grasps my intriguingly lustrous camera. When I turn it on, her eyes widen. She jerks her hand back as if I made the inanimate object come to life. She looks timidly at me. Without words, she asks what it is. Without words, I answer by taking her picture then turning the camera around to show her the screen. Her black eyes shimmer with excitement. I wonder if she has ever seen herself.

In an instant, her playmates are surrounding me so closely that I can barely move. Shaved heads. Mismatched clothes. Runny noses. Dirty feet. Their beauty astounds me.

At least 15 hands reach for the strange gadget and tug at the string that ties it to my wrist. Finally, I release the camera, and half the crowd backs away to take their first photos.

The other half begins to examine me. The girls tug at my bright jewelry. I try to explain the colored beads of the Salvation bracelet I am wearing. “Blue is for Baptism,” I urge.

“Baloo… baaalooo…blue. Blue!” the younger ones repeat in their crisp accents, then laugh at themselves.

Colors now. Concepts later. I try to comfort myself. Oh, Lord, please, give me a later.

Small, dark brown fingers pull through my tangled, dark brown curls. Innocent yet experienced eyes stare at my white skin and American clothes. Swahili words hover between giggles.

A little boy comes with the other half of the group to bring back my camera. The memory card is full. The battery is dying.

“Time’s up,” I utter with a shaky voice. I make a frown in an attempt to relay the message.

They don’t understand.

Blogging

2009-05-27T09:24:00.002-04:00

Hello, Anyone who may still keep up with this blog:

I have thoroughly enjoyed blogging here and will continue to post blogs sporadically. However, I've been blogging on another site as well, and keeping two blogs updated is just too much for my busy schedule. I will be blogging most often at xanga.com/cmyost. Please visit the site and subscribe to it. I suggest that you also subscribe to this one since I'll be posting here, too, just not as often as the other. Thanks for being my faithful readers and for building my platform for future publication. Be sure to give me feedback on any previous blogs and/or on xanga.

Faith and Hope,

Charity Yost

To You and Me

2009-03-11T12:08:00.002-04:00

I despise the fact that I have not blogged in so long. Writing is my calling. Why is it so hard to find time for it? I'm always writing for school, but nothing that I feel called to write. . . except this week. My assignment is to write social commentary. I think I do that quite often on this site, so I dug through my old entries and made notes of major topics I've discussed.

Most of the social topics I mention here revolve around Christians not doing what they're supposed to be doing. That fact makes my skin crawl. Some of us do what Americans are expected to do all the time. We eat, drink, work out, wash our cars, pay taxes, work, have weekends, and so on. But when was the last time we did something that was specifically what is expected of a follower of Jesus Christ. Have we read Scripture today as if it were complete Truth for life? Have we thanked God for how good He has been to us? Have we tithed wholly? Have we treated our bodies like temples for the Holy Spirit? Have we truly loved each person we've seen today and not just pretended?

Why do Christians still screw up? Hasn't the love of God changed us? Haven't we let Him work in our lives? Why do we keep taking charge of our actions and thoughts? Why do we say things we don't mean?

I am begging the Body of Christ, including myself, to surrender everything with full confidence that God is omnisciently and omnipotently faithful. He can, and He will do whatever He knows is perfect in a perfect way. He doesn't need our permission. We don't have to let Him. But surrender is a much better light in which to see His work than either apathy or resistance. Be who you say you are. Be God's people. Be His appendages. Be his ambassadors. Be His love letters to the world. But please, don't lie about it with your life.

Really?

2009-02-09T14:52:00.004-05:00

If you keep up with my xanga, you know I'm a few days behind on this blog. Since I am behind, the concepts may not be as clear as they were originally, but here's what I was trying to comprehend last week.

Sometimes, I get bogged down with the little things that aren't going the way I think they should. Right now, I'm behind on papers and projects and reading for classes. My dorm is a mess because I haven't unloaded from the weekend. It's a beautiful day outside, but I'm inside trying to catch up. I let little things get to me at times. But so many big things have more than canceled out those little factors.

Of course, the biggest of the big things is Christ's love for and faithfulness to me. Last week, I was focusing on Psalm 33. It's a beautiful passage, and I encourage you to read it. The passage is a great example of how God cares for me and for us as the human race; however, it felt so incredibly unbelievable. Yes, I, Charity Yost, the Christian, believer, follower, is saying it felt unbelievable. But doesn't the entire premise of the Gospel? Pardon me for being too real here, but that's the word that comes to mind. Yet, I believe. I believe the unbelievable.

In our Bible Study last week, I used the analogy of my boyfriend Ben. When he does sweet things for me, I sometimes give him a "get out of here" look. "Are you really my boyfriend?" I wonder. Can it be possible that I have someone in my life that I care about this much? Is it possible that he cares back? And why is he so nice? That feeling is just a portion of what I feel towards the One who created me with His own breath. "Are You serious? You loved me enough to die for me? AND You bless me every day?"

Sara Bareilles has a song called "My Love." It's about male-female love, but some of the words make me think about my Lord. He's real. He unbelievably believable. If you haven't experienced that, I'm happy to share.

"He bends His breath around my name, and I am humbled. I feel small and plain, but His arms are angels at His side. You need not ask if they're open, just how wide. . . . My love is on His way. I can't wait to see the day."

Update

2009-01-27T13:21:00.002-05:00

Hello, all.

If you read my recent blog "Don't Stop Your Heart," much has happened with my friend Matt's family since then. I'd love for you to go to this link, then "launch" the video on the right of the page.

Matt's Dad

My Plans

2009-01-16T13:32:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, I was in desperate need for God to speak to me. I didn't have a huge choice to make or task to complete. I just needed Him. I needed Him to whisper love to me. I found Proverbs 16, or He gave it to me.

"We can make our own plans, but the Lord gives the right answer" (v. 1).
"Commit your actions to the Lord, and your plans will succeed" (v. 3).
"We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps" (v. 9).
"We may throw the dice, but the Lord determines how they fall" (v. 33).

I make plans every day, short-term and long-term. I want everything to go according to those plans. I constantly have to take my hands off the controller and tell God to take over. I don't think I struggle with that so much as I constantly forget that He's better at this game than I am. He has the right answers. He owns success itself. He determines reality.

"Better to have little, with godliness, than to be rich and dishonest" (v. 8).
"Better to live humbly with the poor than to share plunder with the proud" (v. 19).

I am a broke, college student. It concerns me sometimes. The economy probably concerns most people right now. Comfort is knowing that Truth doesn't depend on money.

"When people's lives please the Lord, even their enemies are at peace with them" (v. 7).
"The king is pleased with words from righteous lips; he loves those who speak honestly" (v. 13).
"Kind words are like honey -- sweet to the soul and healthy for the body" (v. 24).
"Discretion is a life-giving fountain" (v. 22).
"Better to be patient than powerful; better to have self-control than to conquer a city" (v.32).

Sometimes, it's so hard to be good. I truly believe that God blesses the righteous and those blessings are rewarded now or later. I truly believe that God gives us His own righteousness if we are His. But I also believe that I have the choice whether or not to utilize that power to do right. Sometimes, that choice is difficult to make. People have told me that it shouldn't be because I am a new creation in Christ, but that doesn't change the fact that I occasionally want to do evil things like retaliate or be disrespectful to people who are disrespectful to me.

But Scripture promises that if I choose to do what pleases the Lord, even my enemies will be at peace with me. If I speak righteous Truth, He is pleased. If I am discreet and inoffensive, I will have life. And if I show patience and self-control, I've accomplished more than overtaking an entire city. Being good is worthwhile.

"When the king smiles, there is life" (v. 15).

I want to make my King smile. I plan on it.

Don't Stop Your Heart

2008-12-28T16:14:00.006-05:00

Except for the past four and a half months, I was single my entire life. There were times that I was skeptical about male/female relationships, when I hated the entire male race, when I swore I'd never let little red hearts float around my head. I had good reasons, which were bad experiences.

A few of my friends are in those skeptical stages. They think that I've abandoned them by abandoning my skepticism. They don't understand why anyone would want to love for risk of pain. They deny any need for someone of the opposite sex in their lives. Maybe you do. I heard a story today that might not alter your view of the future and relationships, but it may alter your view of love in general, maybe even faith. A day later, I heard this story. I'm repeating this story closely to how it was relayed to me. May it reach out from this computer screen and pat you on the shoulder.

My friend Matt's nephew found Matt's dad Ken in the bathroom floor yesterday morning. Ken was in the fetal position, struggling to breathe, and asking for his wife. His wife rushed in, called 911 and our pastor Blake, then went with him to the hospital. Blake rushed there, too. They all prayed desperately for Ken, but shortly later, the doctors told the family that Ken had died of a heart attack. The nurses kept him on a respirator while the family came in to say their last goodbyes. Patients are typically pronounced dead after 30 minutes of being in Ken's state. As Ken's wife Tina began talking to him, the heart monitor registered its first faint beat in 49 minutes.

After more prayer from family and friends and more work from the doctors, Ken was taken into surgery. He made it through and, by this morning, could sit up in bed and respond verbally to questions.

Faith. Hope. Love. I need these. Of the three, my greatest need is love. It grants me the other two. I have the right to be a skeptic. I also have the right to choose not to exercise that right. I believe in the strength and power of genuine love. I believe it can rejuvenate faith then move mountains. I also believe that it can start hearts that have stopped.

One More Layer

2008-12-16T14:27:00.001-05:00

I sat on clear plastic, cross-legged, in sweatpants and an old tee shirt. Burgundy paint dripped from the sponge roller and down the handle, barely missing my new Class of 2006 high school ring. All of my furniture was pushed to the center of my small room as my parents and I worked rigorously near the outside edges.

Daddy always did the trim of any paint job in our house. He was the most meticulous and had the steadiest hand. He pulled the triangular sponge along the molding and corners. My mom, on the other hand, tended to get distracted in the midst of painting, so she took the role of tidying.
She wiped the walls before we started, dusted everything within a ten-foot radius of the paint, and moved items just before they got in our way. This task assignment left me with the roller.

Daddy and I worked silently except for the dipping then dripping of brushes and rollers followed by moist swishing sounds against the walls. If anyone said anything, it was my mom, sharing memories about my childhood while she straightened articles in my room.

My room grew up with me. The walls began as white as a clean dry erase board. They were the background for a red and yellow circus theme when my parents brought me home from Oconee Memorial Hospital in early fall of 1987. Though I had no preference for color as an infant, almost twenty years later, red and yellow were undeniably my favorites.

As I dodged the white molding, I remembered that the walls changed from the white of the nursery to light pink during elementary school. My beloved pastel dolls and tea sets abounded, but my tomboy personality didn't allow that stage to last very long.

I followed the wall with my paint roller until I reached the phone jack. With my new cellular phone, I had no use for the jack anymore, but I certainly did in the late 90s. As I became enamored with various actors and boy-bands, the soft pink walls became the background for posters torn out of Teen Magazine. I remembered the phone that used to be there. It lit up hot pink when it rang, matching the shade of my cheeks if the caller were a boy.

From late middle school to early high school, when my mom insisted that the walls throughout the entire house have the same neutral color, my room turned “dusted olive.” Then, I believed that all boys were stupid and horses were marvelous. We traded my popular posters and girly pinks for horse figurines and rustic browns.

Now, I was a senior in high school. I wanted something more mature. I needed something different because I was different. I was going to be in college soon. I needed this.

I had just returned from my senior trip to Spain, Italy, and France with deep-colored, European souvenirs and artsy pictures. I had also recently inherited my great-grandmother’s antique bedroom suite. The combination of modern Europe and an old heirloom was perfect. Wall to wall mahogany bookshelves were essential for my collection of American classics. I couldn’t afford them now, but they would come. So would the sheer, cream curtains and the silk, orange pillow that I daydreamed of as I sat scraping the dried paint off my tired hands at the end of the day. The presence of my equally exhausted parents reminded me that I was not completely independent. Still, I knew that I stood in the midst of my masterpiece, and underneath were all those layers of paint.

My Own Charge

2008-11-03T08:20:00.005-05:00

These verses came to me this morning as I was reading Let Me Be a Woman by Elisabeth Eliot. Reading this book has made me reevaluate my female role in the universal realm of all society and in the personal realm of my own current and future family. I highly recommend it along with the many other works she has written. Please read Isaiah 58 today. I know the Lord will be faithful to bless you by the mighty words within it. Here, I have relayed my separated interpretation. It has very many quotes from the New Living Translation.

God starts in verse six to say,

"This is the kind of fasting I want:"

-Free those who are wrongly imprisoned. (v. 6)
-Lighten the burden of those who work for you. (v. 6)
-Let the oppressed go free. (v. 6)
-Remove the chains that bind people. (v. 6)
-Share your food with the hungry. (v. 7)
-Give shelter to the homeless. (v. 7)
-Give clothes to those who need them. (v. 7)
-Do not hide from relatives who need your help. (v. 7)
-Stop pointing your finger and spreading vicious rumors. (v. 9)
-Feed the hungry. (v. 10)
-Help those in trouble. (v. 10)
-Keep the Sabbath day holy. (v. 13)
-Speak of the Sabbath with delight. (v. 13)

What a charge for us. What a responsibility.

But the Lord is so balanced in every way. When He asks us to do huge things, He promises giant blessings in return.

-Your salvation will come like the dawn. (v. 8)
-Your wounds will quickly heal. (v. 8)
-Your godliness will lead you forward. (v. 8)
-The glory of the Lord will protect you from behind. (v. 8)
-When you call, the Lord will answer.... He will quickly reply. (v. 9)
-Your light will shine out from the darkness, and the darkness around you will be as bright as noon. (v. 10)
-The Lord will guide you continually. (v. 11)
-The Lord will give you water when you are dry. (v. 11)
-The Lord will restore your strength. (v. 11)
-You will be like a well-watered garden, like an ever-flowing spring. (v. 11)
-The Lord will be your delight. (v. 14)
-The Lord will give you great honor. (v. 14)

Virtuosity, Heritage, and Completion

2008-10-22T11:15:00.002-04:00

“What if we have a girl?” I can imagine my mom asking my dad in their one-room apartment with cardboard boxes stacked high along the walls. She was seven months pregnant with me and in the middle of the moving process before they seriously discussed the genetic possibilities of a female child. They had already chosen the name Benjamin Wayne Yost and had consistently called me “Benjamin” for several months of the pregnancy.
My parents at least agreed that they favored virtuous names.

“Honey, what do you think about the name Charity? That’s the main character in this book.”

A romance novel with a questionable cover dangled from my mother’s hand. Thoughts raced through Daddy’s mind that this name might not be as virtuous as he hoped if it was inspired by the paperback book she was holding. Beneath dark brows, his hazel eyes showed disapproval.

“The girl in the book is a strong character! She’s what we’d want our daughter to be – mature, caring, level-headed, smart…. She even has brown hair and eyes. It’s a sign!” my mom concluded, nodding and grinning.

She lifted herself and the cumbersome weight of pregnancy up from the mid-eighties, golden-upholstered couch and reached for the King James Version Bible on the coffee table. The leather cover was badly wrinkled from a careless mishap with scalding hot coffee. The pages were folded and wrinkled. Still, the Scripture held more cherished highlights and scribbles than the romance novel in her other hand.

“I’m telling you, it means good things,” my mom continued while Daddy contemplated in silence, glancing over the top of his issue of Georgia Outdoor World magazine.

Mama flipped through her Bible’s thin pages to First Corinthians 13 and began to read about the true virtue of charity. Daddy’s forehead lost its doubt wrinkles when she read phrases like “doth not behave itself unseemingly” and “thinketh no evil.”

The wrinkles on his forehead smoothed as fears about the woman on the other cover began to disappear, and the image of a well-behaved little girl emerged.

“And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity,” Mama ended the chapter.

“Charity,” he said, trying the word out for sound. “Charity…. Hmph… I like that.” Conversation halted in a happy pause of silent agreement.

Marie seemed to be the obvious choice for a middle name. It was made popular in my mom’s family by Gladys Marie Sherrill, my spry great-grandmother, who danced around the house, singing and twirling her skirts while dinner was cooking. My mom’s eccentric sister Cindi also shared a variation of the name. “Cynthia Maria Weaver” was typed on her birth certificate by accident though my grandmother had originally chosen Cynthia Marie. My mother might have been trying to redeem that mistake, or she might have simply enjoyed the dramatic stories her older sister told when they were children.

“Charity Marie Yost,” they said in unison. Adding the German surname made it complete. After seven months, they were finally satisfied.

11 Numbers and Rightful Wrath

2008-10-11T11:54:00.013-04:00

For several years, I have been trying to read the whole Bible. After reading each chapter, I check it off a list at the back of my Bible. The New Testament is completely checked, but the Old Testament is a struggle for me. I usually read a chapter at a time, but today, I read five. The words were so interesting to me, mostly because I prayed before I began reading and asked the Lord to make them that way.

I'm reading in Numbers right now, where the Israelites (about 600, 000 people) are living in the desert under the leadership of Moses. Most of Moses' time is spent listening to the Lord and conveying those messages to the people.

All along, God sets this cloud of fire over the people. When it moves, they move. They camp wherever it stops. God is feeding them, showing them His glory through a protective cloud, and speaking to them through Moses. How cool is that?

But, in Numbers 11, the people are complaining about some difficulties they are having. God hears their whining and gets so angry that He lets his fire "consume some of the outskirts of the camp" (Num. 11:1). Moses asks for mercy for the people, and the Lord stops the burnings.

The Lord faithfully supplies their needs, sending down "manna" from the sky. Can you imagine bread falling from the sky? Numbers 11:9 says "When the dew settled on the camp at night, the manna also came down." It's like a free food pantry. It also "tasted like something made with olive oil" (Num. 11:8). This brings back the delicious memories of when I was in Italy, and they brought out bread with a dish of olive oil. You might think of the Olive Garden. I may be way off on my picture what manna actually is, but the Bible is surprisingly descriptive about this food and how the people creatively cook it.

But, the embers of the Lord's wrathful fire are probably still smoking when the people begin complaining again! They are craving meat with manna. The Israelites remind me of that one person who stands in the singeing sun with other people and states the obvious, "It's hot." They remind me of that person at the restaurant who is never satisfied with anything the waitress or waiter brings from the kitchen. What is even more frustrating is that they remind me of myself when I complain about things I just need to toughen up and get done (prime example : school work). I forget even New Testament commands to "Do everything without complaining or arguing" (Philippians 2:14).

With this, "the Lord became exceedingly angry" (Num. 11:10), and Moses felt extremely burdened as the middle man. This is where God's grace comes into play. He sends not one, not a few, but 70 men to help Moses carry the burden of the people.

As for the complaining people, however, the Lord gives them what they want. But this is His tone, "The Lord will give you meat, and you will eat it. . . for a whole month -- until it comes out of your nostrils and you loathe it -- because you have rejected the Lord, who is among you, and have wailed before him, saying 'Why did we ever leave Egypt?'" (Num. 18-20).

Moses argues that the people are completely unsatisfiable and even this will not be enough for them. God's reply is my favorite part of this passage.

"Is the Lord's arm too short? You will now see whether or not what I say will come true for you" (Num. 11:23).

So many times, I treat my Creator as if He were incapable of meeting my needs.

God sent meat in the form of quail by a wind that blew them from the sea. They were "all around the camp to about three feet above the ground, as far as a day's walk in any direction" (Num. 11:31). My Creator is capable.

But the Lord was also angry with the unrepentant and unthankful people. He spread a plague and let down his fire again because they craved other food instead of being appreciative and content. That place was called Kibroth Hattaavah which actually means "graves of craving."

I am finding out through the Old Testament that God can get very angry. I have not seen this side of my God very often in my life, so it sometimes surprises me. I find this to be God's scary side. People don't want to think of the Lord as scary. They want to think of Him as kind, gentle, soothing, compassionate, understanding, etc. He is all those things. But He can also be scary. That's how awesome He is. I'm glad that my God can be both comforter and protector. Not only does he provide for me physically and emotionally, but He's also like that guy you want on your side in a fight. He's strong and powerful, but He fights fairly.

Anger and wrath. Grace and provision. So much to learn and comprehend. So much to admire.

This Is All

2008-09-29T19:41:00.002-04:00

This week is possibly going to be the most demanding of the semester, if not the most strenuous of my entire college career so far. The amount of reading I have to do, papers I have to write, and midterms I have to take is unbelievable. I began stressing out last week simply anticipating the fullness of this week. I was absolutely sure that I could not accomplish everything that was required of me.

"God, I can't do this. I am completely incapable. The only solution I know is that You're going to have to do it for me," I admitted.

My boyfriend Ben sent a message to me via facebook the very next day, reassuring me that God was "taking care of things." He also included the lyrics to a David Crowder song, which inspired me to have a David Crowder marathon during my hour-long drive to church that morning. I cried when I heard his skillfully crafted words.

"I'm so tired. I'm doing all that I can," I prayed. The song echoed.

Lord I'm tired
So tired from walking
And Lord I'm so alone
And Lord the dark
Is creeping in
Creeping up
To swallow me
I think I'll stop
Rest here a while

And didn't You see me cry'n?
And didn't You hear me call Your name?
Wasn't it You I gave my heart to?
I wish You'd remember
Where You sat it down

And this is all that I can say right now
And this is all that I can give

Crowder's next image was one that I still have not fully grasped.

Just before the Last Supper, Jesus pulled out a basin and water, knelt down, and washed his disciples feet. The Bible calls this "the full extent of His love" (John 13:1 NIV). That is the only comparison I can suggest to what I have felt all week. My pure and holy Savior, Jesus Christ, has knelt in front of me and washed away the dust of my anxiety and shortcomings. At first, I protested, "No, you shall never wash my feet! (John 13:8 NIV) I should be washing yours. Please, don't Lord. I am so unworthy. Let me do it."

But He insists, "If I don't . . . you can't be part of what I'm doing" (John 13:8 MSG)

He and I both know that I can't do all this alone. So with a sigh, half of relief and half of surrender, I let my Master serve me. I am so unworthy.

I didn't notice You were standing here
I didn't know that
That was You holding me
I didn't notice You were cry'n too
I didn't know that
That was You washing my feet.

His only request is that I return the favor to others by washing their feet.

And this is all that I can say right now
And this is all that I can give
That's my everything.

Palms Against the Wound

2008-09-15T11:08:00.008-04:00

I found a children's book on Kenya in the library and decided to read it since I spent two weeks there this summer. I wanted to know the difference between written facts and what I had seen. I do not claim to be an expert on the subject of a foreign developing country like Kenya, but I knew that at least I had some sort of comparison.

The book was in line with many of the customs and historical facts that I had personally witnessed. Many of the pictures looked familiar. However, the largest difference from the reality I had seen and the book I was reading bothered me. They only mentioned the poverty on one page in one sentence.

I understand that children are vulnerable to harsh facts and that they should be protected. That does not lessen the impact that many children actually live in those harsh facts of starvation and illiteracy while our American children are being read to in an air-conditioned classroom. Did they even catch that sentence?

This blog is not meant to argue whether or not the book should have revealed more of the reality of poverty. It is meant to reprimand myself from ever letting the impact of my trip to Kenya begin to blur into only a sentence. The "matope" (mud) has been washed off my shoes. The pictures of dirty-faced toddlers have been put into an album and placed on a shelf. The emails from connections that I made there have slowed. Some of the memories are not quite as vivid as they were on the plane ride home. Still, the influence that those images made on my soul and my beliefs should never weaken.

Now, I'm back in school. My classes are so demanding. My life is on a schedule. My actions are absorbed by my agenda. Donald Miller wrote, "Six billion people live in this world, and I can only muster thoughts for one. Me." (p.22) This summer, I rarely had time to think about me, but now, I can't get myself out of my own mind. I'm always planning for the next class or the next appointment, or the next date, or the next outing with my friends. Even spiritual things are about me and my own relationship with Christ. I'm not insinuating that any of these thing are bad as they are, only that I'm capable of so much more if I only think outside myself.

This hurts my pride, especially when Miller asks a tough question : "Do I want social justice for the oppressed, or do I just want to be known as the socially active person?" (p.20) How could I see the faces of those children in the orphanage or see Kibera or watch a teenager take drugs to numb his hunger and not want social justice? I don't want to be the spoiled "mzungu" (white person) who just wants to be recognized for charity. I want to care, and I want my social activeness to flow from that care.

"Can you imagine if Christians actually believed that God was trying to rescue us from the pit of our own self-addiction? Can you imagine? Can you imagine what Americans would do if they understood over half the world was living in poverty? Do you think they would change the way they live, the products they purchase, and the politicians they elect? If we believed the right things, the true things, there wouldn't be very many problems on earth. ... But the trouble with deep belief is that it costs something. And there is something inside me, some selfish beast of a subtle thing that doesn't like the truth at all because it carries responsibility, and if I actually believe these things I have to do something about them. It is so, so cumbersome to believe anything." (p.107)

Cumbersome? Yes. Simple? Also, yes.

"All great Christian leaders are simple thinkers. . . . he actually believes that when Jesus says feed the poor, He means you should do this directly." (p.110)

I believe that giving money and praying is a very powerful way to enable others to help those in need. I also believe that actually helping those in need is what we as the church have been called to do. There is a cure, a remedy. Pastor Steven Furtick of Elevation Church in Charlotte, NC, said, "The Church is God's plan A. It's His plan B. It's his plan C, his plan D, his plan E, his plan F. The Church is God's plan for the earth. It is His chosen way. The people of God. . . . When the Church is being the Church, there's nothing like it. The reason most of us have a hard time figuring it out is because most of us have never seen it. . . the church extending mercy, the church becoming a community of healing." When will we stop being so stuck and start moving to further this plan? Many are moving. I refuse to be stationary.

One of the most powerful statements that I read all summer was this one. It's is so vivid, passionate, and urgent. "The human struggle bothered [him], as if something was broken in the world and we were supposed to hold our palms against the wound." (p.114) The world is bleeding. Why are we just watching it hemorrhage on the evening news or in missions slide shows on Sunday mornings? We have the first aid kit.

*Quotes here are from Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller.*

An Orange Sky Behind the Dark Clouds

2008-09-08T19:47:00.004-04:00

I watched the sunset today as I have been doing most days so far this semester. The sky was striped in orange, but dark billowing clouds hid most of its beauty. The sky listens to me, that's why I love it so. I mean, of course, I talk to God, my Jehovah Jireh, not really the sky. No, I am not Pantheistic; I do not believe that the sky is God. However, sitting beneath an open sky makes me feel as if I know God better than I know anyone and that He knows me better than I know myself. My words there in his presence cannot be too loud or too quiet. Everything is heard, even whispers that echo His promises.

Today was quiet. My whispered promises came from Psalm 108 and 109. They told my Lord things He already knew, but things I needed to say about my life currently. Perhaps they will speak for you as well.

"My heart is confident in you, O God; no wonder I can sing your praises with all my heart! Wake up, lyre and harp! I will wake the dawn with my song. I will thank you, Lord, among the people. For your unfailing love is higher than the heavens. Your faithfulness reaches to the clouds. Be exalted, O God, above the highest heavens. May your glory shine over all the earth. Now rescue your beloved people. Answer and save us by your power. God has promised this by his holiness . . . Who will bring me into the fortified city? Who will bring me victory over Edom? Have you rejected us, O God? Will you no longer march with our armies? Oh, please, help us against our enemies, for all human help is useless. With God's help we will do mighty things, for he will trample down our foes. O God, whom I praise, don't stand silent and aloof . . . Help me, O Lord my God! Save me because of your unfailing love. Let them see that this is your doing, that you yourself have done it, Lord. . . But I will give repeated thanks to the Lord, praising him to everyone. For he stands beside the needy, ready to save them from those who condemn them."

I Do Not Have the Blues

2008-09-06T22:07:00.003-04:00

While I was staying home in May, being a camp counselor in June, and flying on a plane to Kenya in July, I read the book Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. The following are a few of my favorite quotes from my summer reading :

"I always thought the Bible was more of a salad thing, you know, but it isn't. It is a chocolate thing." p.47

"If you don't love somebody, it gets annoying when they tell you what to do or what to feel. When you love them you get pleasure from their pleasure, and it makes it easy to serve. I didn't love God because I didn't know God." p.14

"I will love God because he first loved me. I will obey God because I love God. . . . Self-discipline will never make us feel righteous or clean; accepting God's love will." p.86

"Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself." p.ix

"Passion is tricky, though, because it can point to nothing as easily as it points to something. . . . Passion about nothing is like pouring gasoline in a car without wheels." p.109 and 110

"I don't have to watch the evening news to see that the world is bad, I only have to look at myself." p.20

"I believe that the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil, but rather have us wasting time. This is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious. If he can sink a man's mind into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging God." p.13

"All great Christian leaders are simple thinkers. . . . actually believes that when Jesus says feed the poor, He means you should do this directly." p.110

"What I believe is not what I say I believe; what I believe is what I do." p.110

"'If we are not willing to wake up in the morning and die to ourselves, perhaps we should ask ourselves whether or not we are really following Jesus.'" p.185

"I need wonder." p.205

"I need for there to be something bigger than me. I need someone to put awe inside me; I need to come second to someone who has everything figured out." p.237

"If we could, God would not inspire awe." p.202

"The things we want most in life, the things we think will set us free, are not the things we need.... that's the tricky thing about life, really, that the things we want most will kill us." p.63

"It is always the simple things that change our lives. And these things never happen when you are looking for them to happen. Life will reveal answers at the pace life wishes to do so. You feel like running, but life is on a stroll. This is how God does things." p.217

"God had never withheld love to teach me a lesson." p.220

"Nobody will listen to you unless they sense that you like them." p.220

"Communicate the idea that Jesus likes people and even loves them." p.112

Candy Island

2008-09-04T07:36:00.003-04:00

My mom and I always took a trip to the grocery store on Friday nights. I loved the opportunity to have her attention all to myself as we walked around the store together. We were distracted from each other’s lovingly irritating qualities and focused on completing the overwhelming task of buying groceries for nine people.

Because of the immensity of the feat and the mother-daughter time that it provided, I had never been allowed to bring friends on these outings. Mama must have had a soft spot in her heart for Rebekah Henderson’s unpredictable personality. When I was about thirteen, I got permission to invite Bek for a sleepover on a Friday night. She tagged along for our weekly ritual. Bek and I shivered throughout the store. My mom must have gotten tired of hearing our teeth chattering, so she sent us both to the candy island for a half-pound bag each. Her offer warmed us quickly.

The candy stand seemed like Willy Wonka’s factory. Colorful gumdrops, mints, jellybeans, taffies, caramels, and chocolates sparkled in sugary splendor. We could not stop grinning. Bek unrolled two plastic bags, and we began filling and weighing them. As we neared the half-pound mark, we noticed baseball-sized jawbreakers in the last canister. They were perfect for meeting our quota.

Before I could stop her, Bek lifted the lid, stretched her bare hand into the clear container of unwrapped jawbreakers, and dropped one into her bag. “Rebekah!” I spouted. She looked at me, clueless. “You’re supposed to use the scooper!”

“Oh,” she replied, shrugging apathetically. She stretched her hand far into the long bag, brought out the jawbreaker, and plopped it back into its box. Then she scooped another large candy sphere from the canister and placed it in her bag.

I tied a knot in my plastic bag just above the candy and then tied the excess of the bag around my wrist. I led the way through the store to find my mom, swirling the bag in circles. Bek was only a step behind me, swirling her bag as well, only she had not tied the bag around her wrist. The jawbreaker at the end of the long bag made a kind of slingshot that David might have found handy in slaying Goliath. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Bek’s half-pound bag of candy left her hand, spun through the air, and landed on top of a meat freezer.

We stared at each other with wide eyes, glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed. Relieved that no one had seen, we burst into embarrassed giggles. Not knowing what to do about the precious lost candy, Bek and I decided to consult my wise mother. We found her in the dairy section, oblivious to the ruckus we had created. When we confessed, she simply shook her head and told us to go fill another bag for Bek. “But, no more mishaps,” she warned.

Back at the candy island, I helped Bek reload her stash of goodies. We managed gracefully to avoid any bare-handed retrievals or any near-ceiling launches. We were almost finished and proud of our treasure. We weighed the bag once more in the shiny metal plate. It read only a couple ounces short. She decided to add more Skittles. I agreed; they were my favorite, too. I offered to hold the bag open like a pot of gold so she could pour in that glorious sugar-coated rainbow.

She missed.

Skittles bounced like pebbles across the tile flooring and down several aisles of the store. We looked at each other again with wide eyes and gaping mouths. This time, when we glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed, there were three Bi-Lo employees with cleaning supplies staring at us as if we had just destroyed their masterpiece. We scurried around the mess we had made, found my mom in a check-out line, and huddled close to her for protection from the contemptuous grocery workers.

That was the first and the last time that my mom allowed anyone else to accompany us on our weekly trips to the store.

Which City?

2008-08-25T11:20:00.005-04:00

While I was working at Marietta Baptist Camp during June and July, our worship leader, Jamie Koenig, introduced me to the song "God Of This City" by Chris Tomlin. The lyrics are truly inspirational and were especially so to me throughout the rest of the summer.

At MBC, I would pray for God to rule over the tiny southern town of Marietta, South Carolina, while I worked and lived there. God was moving in the lives of the children and the staffers. Each week, as one of my campers would sit with me at the altar and give her life to Christ for the first time, I knew that God was answering the prayers that we had sung for that little city.

After working at camp, I flew to Nairobi, Kenya, for a mission trip. I listened to "God Of This City" on my iPod while I was sitting under a mosquito net in a major African city. The irony that I had sung the very same thing to God in two very opposite settings made me smile. The children at the orphanage, the teens in the slums, the women in the open muddy market, the businessmen on the dirty streets, all of them were part of the city that I had prayed for God to use me to be His hope and light, just as I had at a summer camp.

Now, back in the southern United States, dorming and attending classes in the city of Tigerville, South Carolina, which is essentially the campus of North Greenville University, I pray that God will also reveal Himself as the God of this city during my time here.

"You're the Lord of Creation, the Creator of all things. You're the King above all Kings. You are. You're the strength in our weakness. You're the love to the broken. You're the joy in the sadness. You are. You're the God of this city. You're the King of these people. You're the Lord of this nation. You are. There is no one like our God. There is no one like our God. Greater things have yet to come. Great things are still to be done in this city. Greater things are still to come, and greater things are still to be done here."

Weakness, brokenness, and sadness exist in all cities, but God created them and reigns over them. He brings strength, love, joy, and hope, and He does that through His people. "Hakuna Mungu kama we we. Hakuna na hata kuweko." There is no one like our God. There is none and there never will be. Southern English or Swahili, Marietta or Nairobi - it makes no difference in the greatness of God. May He be the God of wherever I am.

Back and Blogging

2008-08-13T11:00:00.002-04:00

I am back in the USA and full of stories. I will pick up my blogging starting next week, so get ready to read!

Much love and grace for my faithful readers . . . . I can't wait to share with you.

Summer Break

2008-05-20T10:23:00.003-04:00

I'm on summer break from school right now and will be far from technology for most of it. Instead, I'll be working out, getting a tan, eating more than anyone should, working at a camp, and traveling to Kenya. But as soon as I get back to school in August, I'll have so many ideas collected that I want to spill to my readers that you will be overwhelmed with information. So, please, don't give up on my blog. Go back and read from days past, and stay tuned until the end of the summer. You'll be glad you did; I'm sure of it!

Today

2008-04-23T20:59:00.000-04:00

Today, let me right the wrongs of the world. Every last one. Let me hold the new life wrapped tightly in a nursery of the orphanage in Nairobi. Let the tiny fingers grip around something softer than neglect. Let the sun burn my skin as I play hopscotch with a child whose friends were picked up from school on time. Let me forget my studies to hug the struggling student.

Today, let me right the wrongs of the world. Every last one. Let him talk to me until his hopes are truth, solid as the hammer in his hand. Let her complain until her fears in the custody trial, which keep her awake all night and at work all day, are yesterday’s memories, not today’s migraines. Let my ears be used to soothe.

Today, let me right the wrongs of the world. Every last one. Let me become friends with a girl who sells her body because no one else ever found her heart worth their time. Let me give freely to thieves. Let steel and iron entrap me if it means I have talked with a prisoner.

Today, let me right the wrongs of the world. Every last one. Let me sell my favorite dress to serve a warm breakfast to the hungry and homeless. Let me sit on a cracking concrete curb and listen to their thoughts and learn. Let me learn. Let the autumn chill fill my thin clothes. Let the rain fall onto my uncovered mind. Let me love them by knowing them, not just by watching the news.

Today, let me right the wrongs of the world. Every last one. Let me drive for hours to be with a friend. Let wet tears drain down my face in place of the ones she covers beneath her sturdy faith. Let me resurrect above the dark grave of the one she loved and show her the bright blue sky hovering over the rich green of earth.

Today, let me right the wrongs of the world. Every last one.

Serendipity

2008-04-09T22:52:00.007-04:00

I had not planned on blogging tonight, but I must share what God just did for me. I prayed often today. I wrote the prayers down; it's one of my favorite things to do. I simply could not stop talking to God today. Something lay heavily on my soul that needed addressed even in its obscurity.

When it seemed impossible for another sentence to be produced by my weary mind, I turned to Scripture for a refill. My suite mate had mentioned Proverbs 27:14 to me earlier today, and I had jotted it down to look up later. I flipped through my NLT to find it, but instead of Proverbs 27:14, I accidentally stopped at Psalm 27:14. Serendipitously, the verse was almost identical wording to the words I had dripped into my journal an hour before. I frantically turned to the first of the chapter and began reading from start until end, a starving child devouring a feast. Each verse answered a prayer need that my heart had expressed throughout the day -- prayers for patience, prayers for protection, and prayers for power. God had been listening. Now, so am I. Listen.

The Lord is my light and my salvation --
so why should I be afraid?
The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger,
so why should I tremble?
When evil people come to devour me,
when my enemies and foes attack me,
they will stumble and fall.
Though a mighty army surrounds me,
my heart will not be afraid.
Even if I am attacked,
I will remain confident.
The one thing I ask of the Lord --
the thing I seek most --
Is to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
delighting in the Lord's perfections
and meditating in his Temple.
For he will conceal me there when troubles come;
he will hide me in his sanctuary.
He will place me out of reach on a high rock.
Then I will hold my head high
above my enemies who surround me.
At his sanctuary I will offer sacrifices with shouts of joy,
singing and praising the Lord with music.
Hear me as I pray, O Lord,
Be merciful and answer me!
My heart has heard you say, "Come and talk with me."
And my heart responds, "Lord, I am coming."
Do not turn your back on me.
Do not reject your servant in anger.
You have always been my helper.
Don't leave me now; don't abandon me,
O God of my salvation!
Even if my father and mother abandon me,
the Lord will hold me close.
Teach me how to live, O Lord.
Lead me along the right path,
for my enemies are waiting for me.
Do not let me fall into their hands.
For they accuse me of things I've never done;
with every breath they threaten me with violence.
Yet I am confident I will see the Lord's goodness
while I am here in the land of the living.
Wait patiently for the Lord.
Be brave and courageous.
Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.

My Time

2008-04-03T22:41:00.002-04:00

Since I have not typed a single word onto this site in over a week, any regular readers I may have had are probably giving up on me right about now. This lack of inspiring insight to share does not spring from a lack of learning. I have been learning greatly, but it comes in blurbs of information -- facts that may be too short to entertain the blogging audience. I enjoy the sentence-long epiphanies, but even when I attach all the blurbs, they seem fragmented. I could elaborate on any one or two of them, but then they would not stand alone as well as they already do. So, if free association bothers you, you should probably go to the next blog. However, if you would like to read through my fragmented thought processes, you are welcome to try. I am literally flipping through my sacred notebook and pulling out the sections that follow. This is a privilege and probably will not happen again. Be glad you found it today.

What if I write everyday, and it's all in vain?
What if my fingers permanently cramp around the pen, but no two eyes ever really grasp the words?

I feel as if I have been separated from beauty itself for far too long. This is effecting my poetry. I need spring.

I want to live in a city at least once in life.

When do I get quiet enough that I can hear a poem before I write it.

Why do people say "a-whole-nother?"

I want to minister in downtown Greenville.

I want to take a water bucket and drippy soap suds into the middle of the worst places and wash the dirty hands and faces of the world's poorest children.

My notebook is burgundy. Burgundy is such a serious color. Where have all my cute poems gone? I need to switch to my polka-dotted one. I need bright photography -- the kind that makes me live it out and write it out.

Don't Just Pretend

2008-03-24T16:02:00.010-04:00

My small group from Seacoast Church read part of Romans 12 last Sunday. I had studied the entire book last semester, but chapter 12 always stands out. So I decided to focus on Romans 12 throughout all of last week. I read it over and over. I purposely chose not to single out any particular verse until the end of the week when I had become familiar with the text again, or else the entire chapter would be marked and highlighted. Instead, I wound up simply circling the enlarged number "12" at the start of the chapter, and only underlining the one verse that would not give my conscience a break all week long. Romans chapter 12 verse 9 still stands out on the page:

"Don't just pretend to love others. Really love them."

I read the line countless times last week. This chapter had already warned me to "Be honest in your evaluation of yourselves," (v. 3) and to "Let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think" (v. 2), so I prepared myself for a breakthrough and a change.

I love my friends and family. They make me laugh. Thoughts of them make me smile. Sweet memories bring tears to my eyes. I love them. I am not pretend-loving anyone. I have done that before and by no means recommend it. My care is genuine.

Still, the second half of the verse stirs my curiosity -- "Really love them." Maybe I am not falsely loving anyone, but am I really loving them? The word "really" is an intensifier. Is my love for others intense? It's real love, but is it to the full extent?

And how far does that type of love stretch? Does my love stop with my close friends and family? The word "others" encapsulates anyone outside of myself. Do I love strangers, really? Do I love acquaintances, really? If the love I possess is not pretend, what am I doing to prove its reality? Learning to really love is vital to the lives of believers, for Christ Himself declared, "Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples" (John 13:35).
What is love to the fullest extent? How can I stretch it? By "genuine affection," (v. 10) by "taking delight in honoring each other" (v. 10), by "always being eager to practice hospitality" (v. 13), by "never being lazy"(v. 11) and by "serving the Lord enthusiastically" (v. 11) .
So I went back to honest evaluation. How enthusiastic am I about the Lord's work? How genuine is my affection for the hurting and lost? How hospitable am I allowing myself to be? How madly in love am I with everyone else in the world?

"Don't just pretend to love others. Really love them." -Romans 12:9

Tinted Windows

2008-03-22T22:18:00.002-04:00

I like to sit on the passenger's side
And stare out my window
Into the windows of the cars passing by.
A silent couple with a baby carrier in back.
Two tattoo-ridden college men screaming in black.
An old couple, we flew by, I nearly missed.
A man alone dressed for business.
Our windows are tinted to prevent it,
But if they could see through,
What would they think of me and of you?

The Touch of Christ

2008-03-21T23:13:00.003-04:00

I realize that today is Good Friday, the day when we reflect on Christ's world-redeeming crucifixion. I did that today. I even visited a cathedral in downtown Charleston for their Good Friday service.

But I was not focused so much on Christ's death today as I suppose I was supposed to be. I was thinking about his life.

I wonder, if I were to die today, and my closest family and friends began digging through all my possessions and reading all my writings -- things that no one really sees but me -- would their views of me change? What would they think of my thoughts? What would be their favorite things to remember about me?

If I had been family, friends, or even acquaintances of Christ while he was on earth, what would be my favorite memory of His life after His death?

For the soldier whose ear Peter chopped off, what did it sound like when Jesus healed it?
For the man who had been blind his whole life, what was it like for Jesus' hands to be the first thing he ever saw?

He touched so many lives then. Now, He uses his followers to make Christ-like memories for others. What are we doing?

Rose Garden

2008-03-12T23:00:00.005-04:00

I really dislike roses. I've never understood why my parents and grandparents would "comfort" me after a long, frustrating day saying "Well, you know, Honey, God never did promise us a rose garden...." Sarcastically, I would often think, "Well, I never really wanted one." Roses just have no aesthetic appeal to me. Yet, that idiom came to my mind several times today.

Today was one of those long days where life is consistently inconsistent. It was hot and cold, black and white, bitter and sweet. I had a beautiful moment then a depressing one, then a breathtaking one followed by a disappointing one. With the intensity of ups and downs, it was difficult to keep myself and my attitude steady and stable. There was a feeling that I was on a carnival ride that had spun out of control. Nevertheless, in the thrills mixed with uneasiness, I smiled at God. It was all planned.

I refuse to use the rose paradigm . . . so I made my own. "God makes rainy days and sunny ones. Sometimes, He even lets the rain come down and the sun come out in the same day." God never promised me every day would be as gorgeous as today's weather was. Still, the gray clouds are just as important as the white ones.

Colossians 3:12-15 may not be a perfect fit for my sunshine analogy, but it's highlighted in my mind as I think about the carnival ride of Christian life, and it comforts me more than common cliches.

"Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tender-hearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Make allowance for each other's faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony. And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. For as members of one body, you are called to live in peace. And always be thankful."

I was chosen to be shining no matter the weather.

The Zoo I Made

2008-03-10T14:31:00.002-04:00

In high school, I was positive that I had perfectly planned the rest of my life. I felt God moving, and I assumed that movement indicated His approval of my plans. Now I know that the movement certainly was God, but it was His protection from my narrow plans and guidance into His limitless ones. He protected me from staying with someone who wasn't His will for my life and from taking a college/career path that He did not want for me. But I was addicted to me. I thought that being devoted to someone else made me less selfish, but I was blinded by infatuation. Devoting to that person was fulfilling only to myself.

God was jealous. He wanted me back. I responded with the attitude that He could have me, but only if I could have my version of His will. God wanted only me -- without my plans, without the person I was enamored with, and without the impositions of others who thought they knew me. Without those things, I didn't know who I was. The “me” that God wanted seemed far under par. I hated me. I saw the “me” that God had asked for and said “But don't You want more? She isn't good enough for anyone, especially You.” Making straight A's wasn't good enough. Being busy with church and school wasn't good enough. Having my own decent plans wasn't good enough. The guy whom I thought that I loved had even labeled me “not good enough.” Why would God want that for Himself? I hated the “me” that God wanted, and seeing His desire for the “me” I couldn't love was astounding. I didn't want God to love “me” until I could understand why. All the plans and efforts were my attempt to be deserving.

I failed. I failed consistently for over two years. The person whom I thought loved me back became the deciding factor for every move I made. He molded my world view. He implied that he was greater than me only because of his gender. He assumed control of my emotions. He changed who I was. And not a single moment of that was his fault. I had chosen to be in that position. I had failed. I was successful on the outside to my friends and family, but I felt failure in my life that no one else saw or believed.

Sometimes I wonder why no one chose to tell me how much control I was allowing this teenage boy to have over my life, my beliefs, and my personality. In hindsight, they hadn't confronted me because I had held up a mask for so long that I eventually chose the artificial to be my reality. I thought I was happy. They thought I was happy. Only God knew the core of me. With each flashing ember of hope, I wanted to reach into the smoking ashes and retrieve my plans. But this refining process was closer to God's will than those human plans. He was striping away my artificial coverings, and getting down to who He had made me to be. Months later, reality hit. The outside me was gone. To my surprise, I wasn't devastated. I was liberated. I stood in shock staring into the blackened fire pit of my dreams, shock not so much that they had disappeared as that I was relieved of them. Throughout that time, I had prayed prayers like wishes for what I thought was best, and I watched as everything I had prayed for slowly burned. Still, God was there showing me a better way, loving the real me all the while.

Can you imagine every prayer you've ever prayed being answered exactly how you wanted. As a kid, it may mean you got every golden retriever, iguana, or parakeet you ever asked for. As we grow older, we assume that we are mature enough to know what is best for us, but the truth remains: even an adult life would resemble a zoo if all prayers came true like magical wishes. I am so blessed to have a God who knows what is best for His child, and who listens to my soul instead of my impulses.

The miracle that Jesus Christ saved me from sin and Hell is unfathomable. Yet, I will be forever grateful simply that He saved me from myself.

Spring Fever

2008-03-06T19:16:00.003-05:00

All day long, I had shown numerous symptoms of a horrible fever.

Because of this illness, I slowly eased out of bed and treated myself to a steamy, cheesy, loaded omlet. I don't think the vitamins in a gallon of OJ could have cured me, but I tried anyway.

My friends must have heard that I was a victim of the disease, so they called with sympathetic conversation that took up most of my morning. Breakfast and friends were enjoyable, but nothing took the fever away.

I thought a shower would rinse away the side effects, so I took an extra long one and played with my hair using every product and gadget I own. All the fuss made me lose my appetite for lunch, but something burned within me, craving. Something deep tried to surface to fulfill a hunger pang. The desire pushed me outdoors.

Light. The glorious light. THIS was the cure! But I needed more of it. The light couldn't touch me through jeans and long sleeves. Panic, then urgency threw me into action. There was plenty of light. It just couldn't reach me! I needed more skin. So I bolted back inside and found last summer's bikini.

To suppress my overwhelming insecurities, I reminded myself that no one else was home, in my house or the neighbors'. The cure for my fever was within reach. On my second trip outdoors, I picked up The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and retreated to my backyard patio and onto Huck's raft, loaded with sails, oars, and boyish tidbits... I added a towel and a timer as I lay back on board. Huck and I had floated, two carefree and lonesome runaways, almost halfway down the Mississipi as the sun's rays performed magic tricks on our winter white skin. I felt better already.

In the silence after turning a page, I heard movement beside me and the thump of a landing. I sat straight up and scrambled for a towel. Thoughts of decent explanations for my partially-clothed presence on an early March day swirled in my head as I turned to face the disturbance.

My intruder was feline. Her name is Izzy.

"Annie Issabella! What in the world...!" I teasingly reprimanded her, realizing how quickly my heart was beating. I collapsed back onto the towel and covered my face with the open book in personal embarrassment until I felt her stretch out beside me in her own delight of the sun.

I wasn't the only one with Spring Fever, and we'd both found the cure.

The Need For Mud

2008-03-05T17:32:00.004-05:00

The day was loosely planned, marked on the calendar as "Messy Day," and predicted by weathermen to be a threat for any outdoor activities.

Well, almost any.

The clouds came early, even before the sun. Dressed for a mess, we mounted the four-wheeler and aimed for every dirt and gravel road within a mile of our starting point. The mist began, perfectly in sync with the first rev of the engine. The further we drove, the harder the rain came.

I drive like a girl, so I chose to be the passenger. Still, I startled like a girl at every turn and tilt.

As a child, I was discouraged to be within arms-reach of this southern red clay mud, but, on this day, mud seemed a necessity. If mud was not nearby, the day had lost its purpose. Muddiness had already been planned, marked on the calendar, and predicted. A mess was required of us.

I thought mudslinging was a political term until I found its reality standing in a field between a creek and a swamp beneath tablespoon-sized raindrops. We dismounted here.

Leaves that had been dried out then dampened again by rain were meshed with tiny sticks and insects in our sloshing tracks. My vision was watery, but I clearly watched as a handful of the mix soared through the air and hit me square. For the first time in a lifetime, I reached down into the mire and brought forth retaliation. Childish reasoning emerged -- he started it. Cold brown mud squished through my fingers, and I realized my carefree childhood had been dormant for far too long. I needed this dirt.

Moments later, remnants of the battle covered each of us wholly. Smeared, splattered... and smiling.

My God, Like the Sky

2008-03-04T18:52:00.006-05:00

True beauty is held in awe for all eternity and remains beautiful despite the angle from which it is viewed.

I have seen the sky from my hometown in the Carolina's, from a tour bus in Springfield, from the Riverwalk in San Antonio, from the freedom of Philidelphia, from the blue wind in Barcelona, from a holiday in Rome.... and from each point of view, the sky is beautiful.

I have seen God from a human's eyes, a child's eyes, a woman's eyes, a daughter's eyes, a student's eyes, a leader's eyes, a teacher's eyes, a friend's eyes... and from each point of view, God is beautiful.

Like the sky, He is always moving, ever seeming to change state and direction, yet somehow, when I see Him, I know He is forever the same. I cannot get bored with God -- nor His sky. I cannot fathom how immense both must be.

God speaks to me through the sky. Soft and silent or flashing and loud, He speaks. Powerful. Gentle. Omniscient. Unpredictable. Steady. I am so small. I succumb to a will other than my own. Who I am is put into perspective. Who He is pervades my life, my world, my thoughts, pervades who I am, just as the sky over-arches all life here.

Yes, the One whom I serve must resemble the sky that He made. ... But nothing could ever really compare to my God. Even something that pours water, bubbles with color, and wakes me up each morning, and calms me every night. That experience doesn't even come close to standing in the expanse of God's greatness.

Planning Ahead

2008-02-25T19:17:00.008-05:00

I always plan what I will say in each of my blogs, and think about it for a couple days, then pull out recurring themes from my thoughts and place them here for you to read. But sometimes, I have those things plotted and perfected then get to the keyboard and realize those things are not what I should say at all, which erases the slate of what I was going to say but doesn't tell me what I should say.

Since middle school, I have been a planner. I carry day planners. I plan events. I plan Bible Studies. I plan mundane things throughout the day. I can plan.

Lately, however, planning is not my forte, particularly for summer. Summer is two months and one week away. Once it arrives, it will last three and a half glorious months. I already had this summer planned at the end of last summer. It was plotted and charted and outlined. Yes, I can plan. Yet, as I plan, I pray, and to be quite frank, prayer messes up my plans. . . . And I love it.

So, my plans for this summer have been wonderfully messed up by Jesus Christ's intervention. Hopefully, I'm doing what He wants me to do and the end result will be His plans instead of mine. I have no clue what my summer will be. As of today, it's no longer my summer anyways --- I gave it away.

Possibly at that same moment that I dropped my summer heavily into God's steady hand, my Lord applied the passage I've been concentrating on this week to my current circumstances. I'll put parts of it here, but look up Hebrews 10 for yourself and be blessed by its greatness.

When I'm wondering what God's purpose is in all this...
"God's will was for us to be made holy." (v. 10)
"He forever made perfect those who are being made holy." (v. 14)

When I'm blind to what my school breaks may have in store:
"Go right into the presence of God with sincere hearts fully trusting him." (v. 22)
"Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm, for God can be trusted to keep his promise." (v. 23)
"Do not throw away this confident trust in the Lord. Remember the great reward it brings you." (v. 35)

When I wonder what will get me through until then...
"Think back on those early days when you first learned about Christ. Remember how you remained faithful...." (v. 32)
"Patient endurance is what you need now, so that you will continue to do God's will. Then you will receive all that he has promised." (v. 36)

Just as this blog was completely planned and then completely renovated, so is my future. The foundation has already been laid. He already warned me of this --"My righteous ones will live by faith " in verse 38 and 39 -- but I continue needing to be reminded. "We are the faithful ones." I want this summer to be a faithful one. Oh, Lord, please mess up my plans until they are perfectly Yours.

Eishet Hayil

2008-02-17T23:06:00.004-05:00

Eishet Hayil. The wife of noble character. Some translations say "Woman of Valor." Some use "Virtue." It was used in the Bible to describe Ruth, my favorite person in the Bible. I wrote about her a few months ago on this blog.

Eishet Hayil is defined in Proverbs 31. According to my Old Testament professor, Ruth and Proverbs are the only times Eishet Hayil is mentioned in the entire Bible. Being in Christian schooling throughout my life and having friends who were mostly raised in Christian homes, I always heard guys say they wanted a "Proverbs 31 Wife" and girls say they were going to be one. And I had read the passage. I knew what it said literally, but it meant something different to me each time I read it. Sometimes the references to knitting and cooking made me wonder disdainfully if I was called to be a pioneer woman. Sometimes visions of children and a husband would whirl around me, and I would pray that I would have the mindset of a Proverbs 31 woman in the future when there was a ring on my finger and a kid on the way.

It wasn't until recently, when I was finally content with the present and seeing God's work around me as an individual female in the present that I saw Proverbs 31 in yet another way -- single.

Many of the verses are specifically about marriage and parenting, but I suddenly realized that nearly as many could apply to single life as well. Don't misunderstand me, I am not a fan of picking and choosing random verses just because they fit. I simply saw application to my personal life for the first time, and I wanted to share it with you, my readers. So, here are the tidbits that I pondered anew:

"Speak up for the poor and helpless and see that they get justice" (v. 9).
This verse came just before the Eishet Hayil section, seeming almost like a preamble. I desire to see the hidden hurting people then defend those defenseless.

"Her husband can trust her" (v. 11).
I know "husband" is mentioned, but I can work on trustworthiness in my motives and discernment within my daily life. What a noble calling, simply to be trusted.

"She is energetic and strong, a hard worker" (v. 17).

"She extends a helping hand to the poor and opens her arms to the needy" (v. 20).

"Clothed with strength and dignity... she laughs without fear of the future" (v. 25).
I believe that fearlessness comes from an peace with God. Strength and dignity come from a constantly-growing relationship with him.

"When she speaks, her words are wise, and she gives instruction with kindness" (v. 26).
Since reading this, I've really been striving to listen more, even to the silence of myself and others. Mindless words make me cringe, especially when they come from my own lips.

"Her children stand and bless her. Her husband praises her" (v. 28).
Again, I know it has the "c" and "h" word, but as a single girl, I can still attempt to live my life with a nobility that my future relationships will be proud of and fill my life with things that I won't mind telling my children that I did years before they were born.

And my favorite of all is verse 30, which ends it all in a "moral-to-the-story" theme.....

"Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last;
but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised."

May my life echo these words.

Salvation from Conformity

2008-02-14T21:51:00.002-05:00

I fall to the ground
And make love to the earth
For fear there is nothing else.
I lie to myself
That I am like it --
Dead dust and ashes.
And any of me that isn't the same,
I form and conform to be
To make myself one with its nature.

Or attempt.

For part of myself will not stay here,
Rolling in dirt of mortality.
Part knows that earth
Could never love me back
Never show me more than itself
Its selfish self
Could never give me anything.
I have given my whole self
To something incapable of reciprocation.

But there is a force that can lift me
From lying in indignity.
It rescues the immortal part
Out of the cutting gravel and infecting soil
And teaches me that I am separate.
I am different.
I am not to be one with something that is temporary.
I have been made immortal.

Steel Blue

2008-02-12T23:55:00.001-05:00

If you were a color
I'd pick steel blue
You calm me
You cool me
And give me something to run home to
When I can't sort the facts in my mind.
When I'm thirsting for hope,
You're the only water I find.
The cloudless sky could never compare
To the freedom I find beneath your care.
I could fly in the bottomless blue of you,
Drown in the limitless shiny depth,
And still feel secure in your iron strength
Steel blue strength
That washes fear away in a flood
That calms and cools.
Of all the world's colors,
You're my steel blue.

Forgotten Freedom

2008-02-11T22:40:00.010-05:00

Some memories have dormant modes. Those are the ones that we forget even exist until some undefinable force reawakens them.

Many memories were stirred from their slumber last weekend. I went to my high school's homecoming basketball game Friday night and saw people whom I haven't seen in several months. I had flashbacks of being on OCA's court, dressing up for spirit week, and cheering on the team -- things directly linked with homecoming festivities. However, I also remembered idiosyncrasies of the students and staff, the jargon in a small Christian school, the jokes that no one outside understands, the celebrations of everyday victories, and the suffering of teenage years. And so many of those things were still there, but sitting in the bleachers and looking around at all the familiar faces, the change overwhelmed me. I wondered if I had changed drastically or if those around me had. I decided it was maybe a combination of both, but that it was mostly me.

Some of the friends had grown farther from me without either of us meaning to be so far away. Our lives had simply taught us different things and found us in opposite places. Others had consciously chosen to put more distance between us -- those are the relationships that ache from starvation. Still others have come close to me, not by any work of our own but by God's divine providence, and the product is gloriously revealed in our hugs, laughter, and conversation.

OCA turned 15 years old this month, so I stayed for the celebration on Monday night. OCA and I grew up together, so I knew much of the history that was reiterated that night. Still, I hadn't thought about those 15 years as a whole since I was still attending OCA. I owe so much to the education I received there, the love I was shown, the leadership I was given. Memories were awakened, and with them arose appreciation -- of what God has done to write my life story.

He used a script in a play last night to awaken memories and appreciation of them from their dormancy. The plot was not exact to my situation, but I related to it wholeheartedly. A woman was married to a man who was in love with his own success more than he could ever love her. She was faithful to him. There were no other men in her life to go to, but she left him because he was yoked more to his status than to his wife. He married again, but still didn't care for his wife as much as climbing the social ladder. The thing that grabbed my attention most was the woman who realized she was in a dictating relationship and set herself free from it. The difference with me? Christ has set me free.

The memory of freedom had been in dormant mode. I had pushed away the remembrance of confinement because I was attached to my cage. Being set free meant loss for me-- loss of romance, a best friend, and dreams of our future together-- until I was reminded of the vastness of opportunity and space that Christ had given me by pulling me out of that relationship and giving me an intimate relationship with Himself. He showed me the rest of the world, and I stood in awe of Him. Being enamored by something outside of me was nothing new. I had been amazed by the successes of the other guy in my life for years. But through those years, I had not really seen the glory of God's creation, except through the foggy goggles of another person. It was as if God said, "Charity, he is great and has done many things, but look farther. Look around you! I did so much more."

And I saw it.

I saw the glory of the Lord because Christ was writing my story and freeing me within it. And that particular memory is one that I hope never falls into dormancy.

"For the honor of your name, lead me out of this danger. Free me from the trap that is set for me, for you are my refuge. I entrust my spirit into your hand. Rescue me, Lord, for you are a faithful God." -Psalm 31:3-5

Purification

2008-02-05T15:26:00.001-05:00

Purity is not difficult to find. It coexists with nature and humanity. What is difficult to find, however, is the desire for purity. Purity has its own attraction, just as anything right does. But impure things allure in powerfully deceptive ways. To desire what is pure, to desire to be pure, is not as eye-catching as impurities seem. Purity possesses a silent appeal that goes unnoticed beneath loud impure distractions ... until one makes himself aware of it. And once he does, purity is unavoidably addictive. He wants to taste what is right, hear what is good, feel what is holy, see what is sanctified, and smell what is heavenly. Anything else sickens him and requires a never-ending process of illumination, to pull purity out of obscurity.

Dear Jesus, give me an appetite for pure things and thoughts. May the good shine brightly.

"... just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her to make her holy and clean, washed by the cleansing of God's word. He did this to present her to himself as a glorious church without a spot or wrinkle or any other blemish. Instead, she will be holy and without fault." -Ephesians 5:25-27 (NLT)

The Day Is Coming

2008-02-04T21:55:00.000-05:00

The day is coming.

The day that either shadows love or makes it glow.
The day when broken hearts are scribbled on tear-stained notebook paper or delicate flowers are made unexpectedly powerful.
The day when my favorite color (red) and my least favorite flower (rose) are used to torture me.

I had planned to carry on about how much I despise the upcoming holiday until I walked into Wal-mart tonight. The usual attack of Valentine merchandise was gathered at the entrance and scattered throughout the store. The stuffed animals and chocolate boxes hurt my eyes, but I still could not squelch the smiley feeling... the taste of cinnamon candy hot on my tongue, the feel of tiny square valentines passed from friend to friend, the legend of Cupid, or the thought that maybe one day I won't hate February fourteenth so intensely.

I find myself praying more during February. Christ is the only force that keeps me all together; His love is like Elmer's glue for the construction-paper heart that beats within my chest. He knows the day is coming, and so He's gluing me together to make me stronger and getting me ready for the day I have never seen. I trust Him. The day is coming.

Trust Day

2008-01-31T15:33:00.000-05:00

Not very many sad days come my way, but today has been. I don't even know if I should use the word "sad." Because I have so much inner peace and joy that sadness is practically nonexistent. Maybe while I explain today, I will find a word that describes it.

Many of my closest friends are traveling to Charleston this weekend. I love random road-trips with friends, but I will miss this one. Tomorrow and Saturday, I have cross-cultural training for my summer trip to Kenya. I cannot go to Kenya without this training, so I essentially chose two weeks in Kenya over two days in Charleston. Sounds like a good plan to me. And when I take time to plan the speech I will give about Africa and missions on Sunday, my heart flutters like puppy love.

However, thoughts of Kenya lead to even more potentially disappointing issues. The political state of the country may cause the trip to be canceled altogether. I know that the Lord would never let the trip be canceled in vain, and that if we didn't go, He would have something planned in its place. It's just difficult for my human mind to comprehend. I don't know how to handle hope. Hope blends with missing my friends who aren't on campus, cherishing the friends who are here, and looking into the future to friends I will make elsewhere. And some small spot of doubt accompanies hope everywhere it goes. I have a Savior who makes the doubt spots disappear in a collage of hopefulness, if only I focus on Him. Oh Lord, help me to stay focused on you.

So today isn't a sad day. It's just a day that I must consciously focus on the brightness of Christ. It's a focus day. It's a trust day.

Let us hold tightly without wavering to the hope we affirm, for God can be trusted to keep his promise. -Hebrews 10:23

My Father's Forest

2008-01-31T08:57:00.001-05:00

Over briars, twigs, and last fall's leaves
I step in prints three times my size.
The man I follow breaks my fall.
Each time I trip, he rescues me.
He holds back branches. He knows each one
Just before it comes. He studied them to protect himself,
But now he's protecting me.
Lifting my giggling, girly body across a widened creek,
He wants me here no matter the extra weight I bring.
I brushed my babydoll's hair only an hour before he brought me here.
The pinkness of my room still evaporates from my skin
Into the air of his forest of browns and greens.
He belongs here. He blends with the trunks of the trees.
But branches and squirrels won't embrace little girls.
His sons would have known this at their births,
Yet a daughter must be trained.
He does not mind to take the time.
He has no sons. Still I am his. So I learn.
Inquisitive children are strange to silent woods,
But a patient man is not.

The Notebook

2008-01-29T16:27:00.000-05:00

My notebook is black and smooth. The inside pages are lined. The lines are as black as the notebook itself. So are the words, except on the first page. I always skip the first page. Tricking intruders that the following pages are as blank as this. This page reminds me of my potential.

The second page begins the black words that come from heart that is not black, but one that is lime with ripe inexperience -- complete inexperience except for the times when it is sliced open to let the inside fall out and the lime drips turn black as soon as they hit the page. Today, the last page was covered in black. I had nowhere else to go. Not even the first page. I always skip the first page. It can never lose its potential.

There is another notebook, of course, but it is not the black one with the black lines. It has no words, neither black nor lime. And opening this notebook would mean closing the last one and slicing the ripe lime heart again to let the inside fall out. Still, I have nowhere else to go. So I open, and I slice, skipping the first page. In this one, every page has potential.

Prayers and Wishes

2008-01-26T18:05:00.000-05:00

In the past few days, I've had the overwhelming feeling that good things are just beginning, that the bright only gets brighter, and that the things I've always wanted are at my fingertips--all I have to do is stretch a little farther. For those of you who are not so optimistic, prepare for an overload of happiness.

I keep a hodge-podge journal. It has my poetry, thoughts, events that happen during my full days, class assignments, and mostly my prayers within it. I write some and type some. It may seem unorganized -- that's because it is. It's a thought bucket that I fling the sawdust of my mind's workshop into.

I was flipping through some older entries last week and began crying, not because the topics were sad or even exemplary. I just cried the happy tears that burn and drip into a smile because the words were pictures of how far God has brought me since I had written them. I read an old letter that I had written, and saw where God had recaptured my heart from someone who had stolen it. Then God mended it to better-than-new condition and taught me how to guard it without blocking out the entire world.

Reading in random sections, I found prayers from the depths of my soul. A quote grabbed my attention. Once, I had asked myself, "Is it so sacrilegious to wish for the same thing you are praying for?" I ask the Lord to make my desires the same as His, but there are some things that I want so badly that I can't help wishing outside of praying. It is promised that he "is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine," (Eph. 3:20) and believe me, I have a vivid imagination, so if He does more than my expectations, my excitement will nearly be too much to handle.

Now that I've had time to think and answer my own question about prayers and wishes, I believe that the wishing part is just a form of hope. "And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us" (Romans 5:5).

Hoping, wishing, and praying have not been in vain. Of course there are things that I ask for as an erring human and later praise the Lord that He DIDN"T do what I asked. But when the things I pray for and the things God wants in my life line up the answers are so close that I can smell them. I smell them now, and my faith in the Father is growing from that little mustard seed that it used to be.

I Already See July

2008-01-22T21:02:00.000-05:00

The sandy African soil stirs
Around the dark bare feet
Of running boys and girls.
They pretend to fight in wars
Reenacting what they've seen before.
I've been protected from
Wrongs they often witness.
How could I be chosen
To teach them forgiveness?
I want to give them everything they need!
To help them become whatever they've dreamed
And make sure they have plenty to eat,
But how can I in only two weeks?
I see all the difficulties--
Hundreds I could never appease.
Christ, what would You do?
I came to bear witness for You.
Gently, You answer, and I agree.
Now, it's my job to kneel
And wash their dusty little feet.

The Essence of Me

2008-01-21T20:24:00.000-05:00

Life seems to come in cycles of thoughts and circumstances. I don't know the rhythm of it all, but I have noticed that one the repeating stages in my life is wondering who I am. Maybe it's a writer thing, or maybe it's simply human. The age-long question "Who am I?" was floating in the air around me wherever I went last week. Charity Yost sometimes gets buried underneath who everyone else thinks I am or what everyone wants from me. Mostly, it's the dichotomy of who I used to be versus who I want to be that makes me lose sight of who I actually am right now. I have been trying to dig deep into myself and find out what made me different from everyone else. I wanted something that took me out of the cookie-cutter -- a writing style, an accent, a personality, a testimony, or the combination of it all-- just something that was mine alone. But, everything that I found about myself, someone else already had. It was quite depressing. I wanted to be me.

Meanwhile, the item deep within the core of my being that separated me from everyone else was there. I had given up on finding it when it appeared. The only thing that I have that no one else can possibly possess is my relationship with Jesus Christ. No one else has that! They have their own unique relationships with Him, but no one has mine. Although Christ makes me different from the rest of the lost world, having Christ does not separate me from other Christians. Many people have Him. Many more should. Still, Christ is not my uniqueness. The glory of Him is that He unites me with others in His body of believers, not separating me from them. What is separately unique is my personal relationship with Him. No one else has that! I do. Other people have wonderful relationships with Him, but not one of those are the same.

That relationship, accompanied by a unique history and calling, is given to us even before our births (1 John 1:9). Christ and His will are eternal. I had not lost my identity in Christ; I had forgotten about it. That revelation broke my heart, and I'm sure that it hurt Him, too. I had not lost the essence of myself. I had forgotten to forget me, and to focus instead on the amazing connection that God has with me, and with each individual child that He has. I had pushed the unique relationship away in order to search for things about myself instead of focusing those efforts into strengthening that connection.

Oh Lord, may I never again forget that YOU and you alone make me who I am, not any other individual factor in my life. Thank you for wanting that connection with me. You made it what it is -- special and different.

Snow Comes

2008-01-20T20:03:00.000-05:00

The radio and the weathermen
Mentioned winter wonders tonight.
So does everyone
Who meets another someone
On the bustling sidewalk.
We've heard it before
And been disappointed.
Still we prepare.
Milk. Bread.
Chains. Sled.

The radio and the weathermen
Mention it might begin at nine.
By eight, our noses are pressed
Against the panes like glasses
Watching the moon disappear
As the largest cloud passes,
Full -- nearly overflowing.
But risks exist of being
Disappointed yet again.
Still we wait.
Restless. Childlike.
Half-believing. Half-worried.

Outside, staring into black,
Feet planted, head tilted, hands pocketed.
A light fog blends with our steamy exhalations.
Then one white speck illuminates the entire night,
And lands like the first cannonball
Of a silent war.
A single flake
Causes the full cloud to break.

One billion shooting stars
Plunge from heaven
Onto our wet tongues
Into our moist eyes
Powdering our hair and
Tickling any uncovered skin.
"This is less disappointed
Than we've ever been!"
Say the radio and the weathermen.
They mention school announcements.
We've heard it before
And been disappointed.
Still we watch.
Open? Delayed?
Closed! Horray!
We never forecasted they would be so right!

No matter our age,
We're filled with delight and
Still we play.
Snow fight. Snowmen.
Snow angels. Snowed in.
We're soaked to our skin
Ten layers was too thin.

Holding hot cocoa, our hands tingle,
Trying to decide whether or not to feel.
The first sip is always dangerous.
But the second comes with comfort
And a heat that falls from our lips to our toes
So that each drop that follows it
Knows right where to go.
We each watch
As the last thick sip slide towards
It's redeeming fatality,
Letting millions of microscopic candy bars
Flood our tongues in melting surrender.

We fall into bed, tired and happy,
Then wake to find
The snow spent the night.
As we press our sleepy noses against the glass,
Disbelieving there is no class
And wishing the world could always seem so clean.
We could roll back in bed,
But just outside
There's a blank canvas waiting
For us to bundle tightly and begin our painting.

Changing A Valve

2008-01-16T07:56:00.000-05:00

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:1-2

So many people are watching us -- sinners and saints, children and elders, and most particularly, our closest group of friends-- inspecting our lives as representatives of Christ. What do they see? Do they see people who have the potential to be better if only they would let go of one or two issues in their lives?

A simple quote by Olivia Crabtree says "People who try to fix their faults are special." How long has it been since we took a good, deep, scary look at ourselves, our thoughts, our actions, or our motives, and planned how to fix whatever needed repair. Let us pick our hearts apart, lay the pieces on the floor around us, and excavate each detail until we have found and solved a problem within it, put it back together and live a better life.

Why would we ever feel this process were difficult or impossible? We use this all the time to analyze other people from the outside when we don't even know how their inside looks. Just as everyone has their observant eyes on us, we also keep our eyes on other people. Why not take our hearts to the fix-it shop to get rid of things that slow us down? These mostly are things we either place before God or the things that keep us from His glorious will. Sometimes worry. Sometimes sin. Sometimes we simply hold ourselves back. Don't! Strip all those things off your heart! And if it's difficult, ask the Holy Spirit. He'll be glad to help.

After we get rid of the trash that clogs our hearts, we'll be prepared to run faster and more efficiently for Jesus Christ' cause. Nothing will be in the way of the goal of His glory. This trash-free living is called holiness. He says, "Be holy for I am holy" (Leviticus 19:2). How else can we do this except to get rid of the unholy? We can only learn by Christ's example. He "knew no sin" (2 Corinthians 5:21). Neither should we. Throw it off. Dig it out. Clean it up! Then focus only on Christ and His goals for us, His followers. All the focus, all the thanks, all the glory should be in Christ, the "author and perfecter of our faith." We aren't in this cleansing process alone. Christ writes the plan and He perfects the product. When we tear apart our own hearts to look for areas of improvement, He wants to be right beside us to guide the reconstruction process. Let Him.

Today's Messiah

2008-01-12T07:40:00.000-05:00

If the one who promised
That he would rescue us
Had come today,
Would we have chosen
A lethal injection
For lack of wood and nails?
Would a world full of desperate people
Strap their only hope to an electric chair
Instead of nailing him to a cross?

Forgive mankind
Not only the ones who harmed You
But those who continue to.
We still haven't learned
To simply receive and be grateful.
A hero who is rejected by
But still saves the endangered
Is greatly to be praised.

Man's Best Friend

2008-01-08T21:04:00.000-05:00

Every boy needs a dog.

My dad grew up with a German Shepherd named Buddy. They were inseparable. They hunted together, lived together, ate together, and if I remember stories correctly, Buddy was rather jealous of my mother. One of the best friendships I have ever had made a turn for it's best in middle school. My friend called me to cry on my shoulder over the death of his dog, and I realized that, at that time, even my friendship couldn't compare with that of his Golden Retriever. There's just something about the companionship canines offer.

Dogs are so faithful. If you get mad at them, they love you anyway. Boys need unconditional love.

Dogs don't have to be attractive to be acceptable. Spotted, solid, big or little, dogs are about the same -- either a good dog or a bad dog. A boy needs to learn that friends come in all shapes and sizes, but that character is what counts.

Dogs don't talk back. A dog will lie on it's stomach, prop its chin on its paws, and stick up one attentive ear as the owner mulls aloud over the complexities of the day. A boy needs a listening ear after long days of disappointments and disagreements.

Dogs are energetic. They are always happy to see you and love to run, play, and fetch. Boys need this excitement to celebrate the accomplishments that no one else noticed.

Then again, maybe man's best friend should be everyone's best friend.

Pretty Pretend

2008-01-07T21:59:00.000-05:00

Seeing him with her might bother me
But it shouldn't
So I'll starve the envy.

The memories we made haven't faded
But they should have
So I'll ignore the pain.

My heart hasn't mended
But it should
So I'll attempt forward motion.

I really am not over him
But I should be
So I'll pretend that I am.

Change Of Course

2008-01-06T19:35:00.000-05:00

I had planned to blog about this morning's sermon, and I still may on another day. However, when I got to the computer, I felt compelled to let the things I've been thinking silently spill onto your screen instead. Please forgive my mess. I promise to clean it up later.

Today was the last day of Christmas break. In the last month, God has opened my eyes to the constant physical pain that some people experience everyday. I'm only 20 years old. Those few years were not sheltered from surgeries and stitches, but I never lived with pain for very long, until this year. Suddenly, I appreciate sleep without aching and the use of my right arm. Since real pain has been a part of my life, I have gained respect for those who know life no other way. My pain is nothing in comparison to the other patients I have struggled merely to watch in hospitals and doctor's offices. Seeing them, in some absolutely horrible way, decreases my pain. Empathy is like cough syrup -- nearly unbearable, but takes away your symptoms.

If the empathy I've learned to swallow this Christmas break was my dose of cough syrup, then my friends and family members have been my spoonful of sugar. I've seen all of my closest friends around home at least once (except Trey, and Hon, I promise if God wills it, we'll get together next weekend). Spending time with them without wondering when I'll have time to write the next big paper has been a blessing. Still, it seems like I cannot be satisfied until everyone I love is in the same room. Life scatters people. Not counting my NGU friends, who all returned home for the holidays, I had friends and family in Illinois, Tennessee, Virginia, and even Iraq that I didn't get to see. Which brings me to my third and final point of contemplation from this month's hiatus. Liberty.

No, not the freedom. The University. During my junior and senior years of high school, Liberty was my first choice for furthering my education. After much prayer and turmoil, NGU seemed the best choice. When I gave up my first choice school for the most logical school, I told myself that I would reevaluate in the second semester of my sophomore year. ... That semester begins tomorrow. That causes my blood pressure to rise and my mind to spin.

Credits would probably be tough to transfer. Scholarships could be hard to find. I might not like it once I got there.

I might feel more challenged there. I might feel more right there. Maybe God gave me that thirst for LU.

How would my parents feel? Would my friends here forgive or forget me? Would it make more trouble than sense?

I wish the entire world were in my backyard. I could be with all my NGU people and attend Liberty at the same time. I could see pain and fix it. I could minister to those in Kenya without terrifying my parents. I wouldn't have to drive to another state to meet a dear friend. In a world that makes everything so easily accessed, why are people still so far apart? With so much medication, why do people sleep in a sea of illness? With so much hope to be offered, why are there looks of fear on the faces of Kenyans? With so many wonderful choices, why can I still not answer my own questions?

Surpise!!

2008-01-04T21:46:00.000-05:00

At the present time, I blog to present a theory that all surprises are good. A "bad" surprise isn't a surprise at all; it's a shock. And in this blog, I'm focusing on surprise.

Life brings surprises. We are all witnesses to this art of the universe. I attribute that art to the Creator. But even if you do not show Him acknowledgement, anyone can attest to the surprise of life through nature and circumstance. It was circumstance that surprised me today. I met someone completely new, and I was reacquainted with someone I've known for a long while. Both surprised me. They were things I never could have planned or imagined, but that brought pleasure and purpose.

I absolutely adore surprises. A friend of mine absolutely abhors them. Just a few days ago, I showed up at his place of employment unannounced. His initial response was more upset than uplifted. This irony is quite amusing to me.

Surprises are like candy to me. They make life sweeter. Those closest to me know I love random subjects mostly because they surprise me. As I typed this, a friend half-a-country away sent me a link to watch Japanese bugs fight. Now, am I a fan of fighting insects? Not at all. However, the complete unpredictability of this topic made me smile. I certainly did not view this Japanese spectacle, but am proud to call the sender a friend.

Surprises can come in children's faces, in new-found friends, in random subjects, and in epiphanies. We need to notice them, embrace them, delight in them, and then share them! We must tell others about our own surprises, then spark some surprise in their day. It brings the most satisfying sensation.

Tomorrow, my mother is getting a birthday gift she has no idea about. Surprise....

Hopeless Decision

2008-01-02T08:35:00.000-05:00

One of my friends and I had a breakfast conversation New Years morning. We talked about the odd sensation that occurs if someone you've had feelings for in the past yet chose not to be in a more serious relationship with suddenly starts easing his/her way into your life, and consequently your emotions, once again. That has been happening to me over Christmas break since many people from my past are aware of my presence back home. With those thoughts bumping into each other in my little brain, I penned this poem -- a poem that reflects making a decision that may be the right choice, but still erases possibility in a relationship.

With one glance at our hearts, it seems they touch,
Though they never have.
They were merely drawn closer by Hope.
I wish we had needed nothing between,
That we had beaten Time to the draw
So he would let me hear your voice every second of everyday.
Since we lost to Time, it hurts to hear even one word you say.
Distraction and Opportunity came my way.
Discernment and Decision slid between us.
Then I asked Hope to leave us both alone.
She did obligingly. And now she's gone.

Ancora Imparo

2007-12-31T15:59:00.000-05:00

December 31st is typically the day when people reflect on the past year and write out resolutions for the following day until however long they can keep them. Today, I will have a slight variation of this ritual. I want to record not what I will attempt to change about next year, but instead record the lessons that I know will stay with me for a lifetime.

1. It may sound cheesy, but you can't hurry love. When it comes to opposite sex relationships, let God control the timing. Not only is love unrushable, but it is unforceable. If it isn't already there, it isn't a good idea to squeeze it between you and someone else.
2. Not every person who enters your life can star in it. It is your right to decide who can and cannot be a huge part of your life, with godly discernment, of course. Be the leading character in your own life, or someone else will take over.
3.God knows. At those times in your life when you're so blind to what the future may be, and mutter the words "Who knows?", it is unexplainbably reassuring to say, "God does."
4. Open-ended questions are glorious. I'm sorry if you caught me in the middle. I'm still trying to master the art of this.
5. When God reveals something, it's true. Don't question the things God has already made clear. There are uniquenesses that God intended us to have in order to fulfill His plans. After you've figured out what they are, don't mess with them; embrace them. I am simply meant to be an English major. When people ask me why, I don't always have a good answer other than, "God has revealed that to me." I ask myself the same questions that those other people do. God will fill in the blanks whenever He thinks I need them filled.
6. Write this down. It's easy to lose track of miscellaneous items within the cracks and wrinkles of our brains. Writing down the good things God has done for me makes it easier to praise Him when they aren't so obvious. Recording prayers is simply amazing when you look back and see the creative ways your Creator met your needs.
7. Beauty has power. On horrible days, on ecstatic days, on so-so days, everyday beauty simply changes the way you feel. Everyone finds beauty in different things -- nature, music notes, construction, color, ideas -- whatever you find it in, find it often.
8. God is a God of beginnings. New days, new years, new people, new places, new hearts, new lives -- so many new things are refreshers for the mundane. Although you might not be able to go back to the start and do it all again, with each passing second, you can choose to have a fresh start.

Christmas Poems

2007-12-25T10:26:00.000-05:00

I wrote these poems last year. They show the dichotomy of what Christians consider the real first Christmas compared to what it is today. May you be blessed with both, and may you be merry today.

Curly-haired sleepy-heads
Wake up and tumble out of beds,
Run down the hall
And into the pile
Of gifts wrapped brightly
And bows tied tightly.
Mom and dad smile,
Whispering secrets while
Watching all their dreams
Come true through the streams
Of paper and ribbons
Soon bundled in hats and mittens,
Tossed in laughter and fun
So playful and wild,
Their most cherished gift
Is the face of the child.

Newborn sleepy-head
Wakes up to a prickly bed,
A feeding trough,
And a wooden stall
Of animals grunting lightly
Under a star shining brightly.
Mom and dad smile
Whispering secrets while
Watching all their dreams
Come true in the streams
Of hay and dust
Through deepest fears and desperate trust.
Coated with peace and tranquility.
So meek and so mild,
Their most cherished gift
Is the grace of the Child.

Not So Merry

2007-12-24T23:26:00.000-05:00

My family is notorious for envisioning Norman Rockwell Christmases and getting anything but. As I child, Christmas really was perfect for me. However, now that I'm out of that stage, I realize how much work my family puts into keep Christmas the way it always has been. Conforming to society's psychology places an entire set of stereotypes for this season. From trees to family traditions to last-minute shopping traffic, our schema for Christmas is a stiff one. If we stray from that schema, we feel that we have failed ourselves and those we love by not providing the right Christmas.

But what if, by some cosmic alteration beyond your control, your Christmas isn't like that? What if your grandmother is in the hospital and the entire family focuses on the ICU room instead of a Christmas dinner? What if you've just had a disagreement with the people you love most and you realize there is no way you can please them? What if the husband and father of four is suddenly and inexplicably killed in a car accident? What if you are a widow in a nursing home with no remaining family? What if it simply was a bad day where nothing seemed to go as hoped?

To all of you who feel this way, I'm doing the best I can within my heart to hug you right now. I don't want to paste a smile on top of your frown. I just want to sit beside you in silence so we'll both know we aren't alone. Maybe Christmas hasn't been the "most wonderful time of the year". Maybe you don't feel "holly jolly". Maybe you won't even be "home for Christmas." Even if this season isn't what it's always been or what you've always wanted it to be, that doesn't mean you've failed or done anything wrong. You're just breaking the mold.

Look how far we've come from what we consider the first Christmas. A couple thousand years ago, Christmas didn't have a name. It didn't have assigned colors like red and green. It didn't have symbols like candy canes, wreaths, trees, nativities, or crosses. Very few people really paid the first Noel any attention. And what strikes me the most is that it involved a difficult journey, a woman in labor, and a struggling new father. It doesn't sound very merry... all except for a Savior entering a crazy world that needed Him desperately. Only He was glorious. So cling to the Savior if your Christmas is perfect, and especially if He's all you have. Whatever the case, though I can't really be there with you, that Savior already is... and not just because it's Christmas. He's with you constantly because he wants to be. Despite that schema, He came because He wanted to be with us and rescue us. That's what Christmas really is.

Desire for the World

2007-12-21T17:01:00.000-05:00

This poem coincides with my last blog. I wrote this a few days ago.

I want to tell the world to act its age.
What's the deal with all the rage?
We should know better by now,
But we live in chaos anyhow.

I want to tell the world to share,
Teach the wealthy how to care,
Teach the able to assist the broken,
How to comfort with words unspoken.

I want to give the world a hug
Keep all the homeless safe and snug
Surprise the lonely with real love
Can anyone feel it quite enough.

I want to tell the world to hush
To give up the hurry and the rush
Go home and keep their families whole
And invest more time to feed their soul.

I want to tell the world to laugh.
It'd cut the length of wars in half
And make impoverished children smile.
It'd only take a little while.

I want to tell the world to act its age.
What's the deal with all the rage?
We should know better by now
And love each other anyhow.

The World's Charity

2007-12-20T15:38:00.000-05:00

While surfing the web today, I found a website called The Smile Train, promoting a charity that pays for cleft lip and palate operations. Its headline "The World's Leading Cleft Charity" caught my eye. It is a rare occasion that I see my name beside a birth defect that I was actually born with. The phrase struck me close to the heart, so I took the initiative to investigate. The charity is able to perform an operation for only 250 dollars per child. My similar operation was 20 years ago, and even then it was still very expensive here in the US. 250 dollars is pennies compared to the medical bills my parents have received throughout my lifetime.

And yet 100,000 little smiles are still in need of repair. Why?

Today on TV, I saw a new airliner in which passengers can eat five-course meals, sleep in nice beds, have the covers turned down for them, and be given new pajamas, tooth-brushes, and razors. Price? $5,000 to $7,000 for a seven hour flight. That isn't even enough time for the recommended length of sleep, not considering meals and all the other amenities included in the flight, and yet, many others around the world will not sleep tonight because they are cold or hungry. Their entire day could have been comfortable for 15 cents, and yet, another person is spending $7,000 to sleep in luxury on a plane for a few hours.

I read in a magazine about a mom (author of the article) who pointed out to her young sons that the monthly bill for their high-speed Internet would be the same price as supporting a little girl in another country for a month. The boys willingly said, "Mom, don't be silly. Who would pick the cable thing?" Children sometimes have such a better grasp of reality than we spoiled adults do.

So all day, my head has spun in questions. How can there be so many wealthy people and so many impoverished people in the same world? How can a father in my hometown choose to by cigarettes instead of better clothing for his daughter? How can I witness a mother taking a pet to the vet and neglect her child from seeing a pediatrician? How can I be thrilled with the invention of a hotel on a plane when I know how many people could have been fed for the same price? How could I sit here and write with a clean conscience knowing the money I just payed for a cell phone bill could have kept an infant in Uganda from being killed only because she was born with the same birth defect that I was born with... just in a different country? How can millions of dollars be spent on fertility drugs and procedures while orphans suffer and pine to be adopted?

No answers came.

The unanswered questions are beneficial, however, because they coerce me into being inquisitive, intuitive, inventive, insightful, and eventually involved. This world needs involvement. There is greed, laziness, and ignorance in those who least expect it... like myself. Humanity is aching. What are we doing to ease its pain? The smallest things count. And how convenient it is for us that our smallest things are what others consider wealth.

Oh, if I could hug the world tonight, I would. I resolve, instead, to mold my heart, mind, and actions with these thoughts.

New Christmas Poem

2007-12-16T19:34:00.000-05:00

I attended my home church's Christmas program tonight, which was a blessing. It's a very small church, but it's Christmas concerts are always perfectly professional. The title of this year's program was something like "No Other Name." Though so many other parents have discussed what they will name their children, it seems to me that very few claim having an angel tell them what they should name their child. Mary and Joseph were two of the lucky ones. "You are to give him the name Jesus" the angel told Mary in Luke 1:31 and Joseph in Matthew 1:21. And though some parents might believe an angel revealed the names of their children, I am certain that NO other given name grants salvation from sin but "Jesus Christ". Acts 4:12 says it this way: "Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved." How much power can one word hold? As an English major, it's my job to study words and to combine them to make powerful statements. Yet, no other word in any language's vocabulary can conjure up the power of that one word, "Jesus." There really is, "just something about that name."

And as if God wanted to prove that He was unmatchable, he not only did so by having an unbeatable name, but also by giving an unmatchable gift. I assure you that anything you give or receive this Christmas will be temporary. Whether it's a tie for your dad or a diamond ring for your girlfriend, you are incapable of giving a gift that will really last forever, no matter what that diamond commercial says. But God could, and He did through Jesus. I recently wrote this poem about that gift:

In a simple wooden box
With cloth for a bow
Was a small bundled gift
Better than all my hopes
Outnumbering all my dreams
Overpowering all my desires
Bigger than I could ever be.
He wrapped up more than my everything,
And I got it all for free.
Not even on a holiday
It was just a day
When he wrapped up redemption
And gave it to me.
It was put in a box
Yet it sets me free
A present that saves me from my past
With a divine note attached
To secure my future
By adopting me
Through a small bundled gift
Wrapping up more than everything
In a simple wooden box
With cloth for a bow.

A Long Drive

2007-12-12T22:48:00.000-05:00

Some days, I just want to drive. Today has been one of those days, and so I decided to post this poem that I wrote about a month ago when I was in need of a long drive.

Driving through the night
Plowing through the darkness
To get to your house,
Knowing all the while
That with you, there will be light
Hoping maybe some of it will be shed on me.
The hours are long
Realizing we're both alone,
But you'll make it all worth while.
Driving in the dark
With anticipation to push me
And your heart to guide me.
I don't need a map.
Getting lost just isn't in the cards for me tonight.
How could it be?
I know the way
Because I've travelled it in my dreams
In my sleep
And in the day.
As much as music thrills my soul
With the uncountable connections to you,
The radio will not play.
A single note would break the trance.
So silently I'll plow through the darkness,
I'll drive through the night
And before morning light,
I'll be with you.

Flesh Just As Real

2007-12-09T16:46:00.000-05:00

Last Thursday night, my 4-year-old cousin Laurel sat (or wiggled rather) in my lap throughout a Christmas program. As I held her, I realized that Jesus was just like that beautiful child with me. If I were to hold Jesus as a child, I could feel the soft skin covering bones, joints, veins, and nerves of His flesh, too. He was warm to the touch. He blinked. He yawned. He would tug at a woman's long hair or reach for shiny things.

Then I thought , "Oh, to be Mary would have been overwhelming!" I used to envy her, but now I wonder how she ever slept, or got any housework done, or took care of herself, her husband, and her other children. If Jesus Christ were in my presence and under my care 24-7, what would I do? Yes, I know that He is ever-present, but being able to see him would be so distracting... or should I say "focusing." If He weren't flawless, He'd probably get tired of me following Him around like a small puppy under His every step. I'd never eat or drink or sleep or talk other than asking questions and praising Him. I imagine this is how the disciples felt at first, particularly after they saw his first miracle, or heard his first sermon. No wonder they were devoted. But they were flawed, as I am. Though they patted him on the back, feeling that he was truly real, and watched him walk and heard him talk and saw him eat... they still got distracted. Peter and the storm, Judas and the money, Thomas and the disbelief... myself and the troubles, myself and the motives, myself and the misunderstandings... I lose focus on the Almighty God who means everything to me, and is everything to everyone.

That night, as I watched the typical nativity reenacted, it was a chance to put myself in the stable, and reach out my index finger to let Christ wrap his little hand around it to remind me of what my whole life means -- remind me that someone as real as my own flesh is still here.

Ringing Bells

2007-12-07T22:05:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I did something that is on my long life's to-do list. I rang the Salvation Army bell.

I stood outside a grocery store in the freezing wind, wearing an apron, and ringing a very loud bell for two whole hours. Then, at the end of the night, I signed up to do it all again.

Why?

Because of the faces. I noticed that so many people were smiling. And if they weren't, a simple smile from me was all it took to make them do the same.

Why?

Because of the generosity. At least 70% of the people who passed by me gave something, whether metal or paper-style. They didn't walk away grumbling. They walked away taller. They had just helped. They probably did not really know what they helped... or maybe they did. But they gave. Giving is some sort of release for the human body, like aromatherapy or acupuncture. Tonight, I observed that dropping a coin in a pot has exactly the same effect.

Why?

Because I watched a little boy with special needs drop a handful of money in the bucket one coin at a time. It took several minutes, but there was no Christmas rush for him. I also watched an elderly couple hold hands while creeping across the parking lot. It took quite some time for them to get inside the store, not considering the time it might have taken actually shopping, but there was no holiday hurry for them. Later, I saw a man in a car roll down his window and yell nasty things at another car that had already driven away since he had been delayed for about half a second. All the while, I smiled, rang my bell, and cheered "Merry Christmas!" Why? Because I saw that little boy, and I saw that elderly couple, and what they gave was so much more appealing than what the rushed man in the hurried car was giving away.

So I signed up to do it all again.

The Charity Geyser

2007-11-30T13:16:00.000-05:00

I'm pouring out of me.
Oh God, I'm gushing!
Slow the current--
Stop the flow--
I cannot help myself.
I cannot keep myself
From gushing.
Like a geyser,
My life is coming out
My thoughts are leaking out
My heart is rolling out
Shut my mumbling mouth
Flush my eyes with tears
Open my deafened ears
Re-stuff me, Lord,
But not with fluff.
Re-stuff me with substance
Stuff it in, and stitch it up.
Send me out,
Whole this time around.
Keep my feet on the ground.
Or else, when everything escapes,
I'll be floating,
Only floating,
With no self-control
Over my loitering lips,
My rambling thoughts,
Or my unkempt motives.
Oh God, I'm gushing again.
Make me stop!

Disclaimer: I wrote this poem earlier today. In no way should it make people stop pouring out their hearts to God and others or stop being the candid and unique people God created them to be. However, there are times meant for reservation, yet sometimes I struggle with restraint. This is a prayer that God enhances my self-control. Even passion for life can be a hindrance at times to the will God has for that life.

Thanks!

2007-11-28T16:29:00.000-05:00

I know that I'm a little late on the Thanksgiving theme. Most other times, I'm pretty punctual, so just humor me this time around!

I was studying gratitude in psychology (how convenient for the holidays, right?), and the professor asked us to make a list of things for which we were thankful. Despite it's ease, this was not an elementary assignment. It was meant to show us that after making such a list, we would physically feel better.

I wrote several things, and surprisingly, at the end, he was right. I was smiling. Here's the exact replica... (If you aren't here, that doesn't mean that I'm not thankful for you, it means that he only gave us 2 minutes of his precious class-time.)

I AM THANKFUL FOR:

Learning
Corey
Melissa B.
Marla & Steph
My mom
My dad
NGU
Dr. Epting
Fun professors
Books
Words
Friends
Hugs
Scripture
My car
Sleep
Smiles
Godly advice
Babies
Youtube

Yes, it's random, probably because we were also studying association methods. However, he also assigned for us to write thank-you letters. I'm not dreading that at all. I also think my Christmas cards this year will be thank-you cards instead.

"Give thanks to the LORD, call on his name;
make known among the nations what he has done."
1 Chronicles 16:8
"Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;
his love endures forever."
1 Chronicles 16:34
"Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts,
since as members of one body you were called to peace.
And be thankful."
Colossians 3:15
"Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful."
Colossians 4:2

Be thankful today. For everything. Then go a step further, and praise the Lord, maybe even to other people. See what happens.

Dream of a Lifetime

2007-11-25T17:14:00.001-05:00

Over the Thanksgiving break, I have been thinking about my dreams. Being single is never so agonizingly hopeful as it is during the holidays. I use this oxymoron because it is truly a bittersweet sensation, watching the grandness of life then praying it happens to you, too.

Last night, I told one of my best friends that as she makes a huge new change in her life, she should have a strong vision of what she wants with room to let God change that vision to accommodate whatever He wants. I now realize that this advice was only an echo of what the Lord has taught me lately.Throughout the last few years, I have simultaneously lost sight of my dreams and formed them. The things I dreamed for myself in high school are now vapors of the past, but the dreams that I let God spin around in my mind since then are more concrete now than ever, and I feel Him behind me, supporting me in my pursuit of them.

The holidays make me dream. It is sometimes a struggle to discern which dreams are mine and which are revelations of the will of God. Maybe there is a mixture in what I have now. I pray that only God's dreams for me come true, but I can only share that mixture of my dreams and leave it up to the future to decide which of those are meant to be reality.

The clearest picture I have to offer of my dreams are examples of those dreams in real people's lives, which I will dispense now.

For a paper on Louisa May Alcott, I have been reading her novel LITTLE MEN, about a boarding house for abandoned boys. The book is an account of brawls, runaways, boats, dogs, frogs, bruises, scrapes, dirt, and a whole lot of love. The house at Plumfield is a square old white house, but also a refuge for the weary. The mother and father make a wonderful combination for raising a dozen boys in a well-rounded atmosphere. Call me crazy, but that atmosphere is my dream.

My cousin, Cristy, has three rambunctious sons of various ages, and three equally rowdy nephews. She is beautiful. She is classic. She is strong, yet still smiles. She lives in a house that is a hundred years old and has redecorated it superbly. My family met at her place on Thanksgiving night. The only word I can think to describe this feeling I get from her home is bustling. Call me crazy, but this word is my dream.

Last night, I read a magazine article by a columnist/mother-of-four-boys. She had only an hour to pen a well-written article for a well-known magazine before she picked up her children from school, and still she said she could not wait until 3pm when they would be home again. The picture beside her words was of her with her four boys huddled close, a spouting water hose, and a wet spotted dog. Call me crazy, but this picture is my dream.

These dreams may seem insane to some. These dreams could be changed in an instant. But that's the point -- I don't want them to be too solid. I want God to have room to mold. But, I also realize that He has already molded them thus far, and they get closer to reality in each passing moment. These dreams are the middle of an unfinished project, so that what He is molding becomes clearer every day. Because of what He has already formed, this hope is not too unbearably agonizing. It's merely mesmerizing. I'm on the edge... I'm on my knees... anticipating.

Sneak Peek

2007-11-18T17:11:00.000-05:00

In 1 Samuel 12, the people of God were being firmly reprimanded by God's appointed judge Samuel. He told them that they asked for hard times by asking for a king instead of being content to be ruled by the judges. The ignorant people probably brushed away his words like dust on a mantel. However, Samuel continued telling them how they could avoid the punishments: "'Do not be afraid, ...Do not turn away from the Lord, but serve the Lord with all your heart. ... Fear the lord and serve him faithfully with all your heart'" (1 Samuel 12:20, 24). But the wise people, who believed because they had seen Samuel's words come true before, were probably on the edge of their seat in wonder of what was about to happen.

Do you ever felt that way about what God was about to do? Hopefully it isn't His wrath you are awaiting, but it could be something He seems to have promised you over and over. Still, you just can't get the full picture. I feel this way lately, like a kid with his nose against the TV screen, only seeing pixelated lights and none of the real picture. I feel as if I am driving around a curve that won't seem to end. What is around it!? This curiosity compels me to keep serving and keep growing in the Lord. It also can make me impatiently rush and push too soon.

In reply to this feeling for those people and to me today, Samuel tells his listeners in verse 16, "Stand still and see this great thing the Lord is about to do before your eyes!"

My suite-mates and I went to Chick-fil-a very early one morning last week. In His own way, God said "Charity, stand still and see this great thing I'm about to do in your life, right here, right before your eyes!" when He placed a big clear rainbow in the sky. Now, please don't think I'm cheesy. I've seen rainbows before, but never like this. Never so bold, never the entire rainbow, and never without rain and clouds. He spoke to my heart through it, telling me, just as he told Noah, "Everything will be okay." And in the quiet, I stood still, receiving his peace about my current circumstances. I keep forgetting that God can reveal so much without me moving a muscle.

"In the quiet, in the stillness, I know that you are God. In the secret of Your presence, I know there I am restored." -"None But Jesus" Hillsong

" When I stand in that place, free at last, meeting face to face, I am Yours, Jesus, You are mine. Endless joy, perfect peace." -"Happy Day" Tim Hughes

Thank you, Lord, for stillness and sneak peeks of Your glory.

I Just Realized That...

2007-11-15T22:32:00.000-05:00

I tip my waiters and waitresses fifteen percent at restaurants, yet...

Does God get even ten percent of me?

The Finish Line

2007-11-13T19:35:00.000-05:00

I didn't make it.

In my post called "Facebook Fast," I explained that I would not be on Facebook for an entire week. It was planned to be from last Wednesday night until tomorrow (Wednesday) night.

I didn't make it.

I lost my cell phone on Sunday morning. My suitemates were gone. I had been alone most of the weekend. I never thought I could feel so alone-- not really "alone", just deprived of communication.

Without my cell phone, I had no alarm, but I woke early Monday morning in a cold sweat from a nightmare. I realized no one was there, and I had no way to contact anyone. I thought of Jesus, not really a prayer, but a semi-conscious awareness of his presence. Forgive my brief humanity, but He seemed not enough. I was still partially asleep as I sat straight up, pulled my laptop to me, and clicked the link to Facebook in a desperate attempt to have a connection outside my empty dorm.

I didn't make it.

One week was all that was required. However, I had forgotten how quiet and lonely weekends on campus are. And now, I realize, I had forgotten how important community and communication are, even communication that isn't face-to-face. I was starved of people.

Later, I realized the repercussions of my impulsive action -- not keeping my word to myself or my friends was wrong -- but I still learned. The issue wasn't that Jesus wasn't enough that morning. He is always enough. The issue was what he was trying to teach me. We NEED each other. I don't need Facebook. I don't need a cell phone. But I do need people. My closest friends, my good friends, my distant friends, my acquaintances, and even people I haven't met -- I need all of them, because God placed them there for His purposes.

I also learned that sometimes we give up too quickly. I only had two days left to keep my word, but I couldn't see the finish line. Similarly, school is so demanding right now. There are more assignments than I could possibly make time to do as well as I would like. Thanksgiving Break is a week away, and Christmas Break is a week after that. I'm so close to finishing, but I feel like I should have a break and a rest right now. I will never get the momentum back up for myself with so little time left. All motivation for the remaining two weeks of classes will come from Christ alone. After I sprint through the ribbon at the end, I'll be proud of Him. Not myself. I fail. I am needy. I am weak. I sometimes don't keep my promises.

I didn't make it.
But He does.

Radio Surfing

2007-11-10T18:56:00.000-05:00

I am notorious for radio-station surfing. I skip from one programmed station to another until I find actual singing and not speaking. If, by some catastrophe of media, all my programmed stations are talking and not playing what they should (SONGS!), then I scan through random stations that I don't know. This catastrophic event took place tonight, but instead of being disappointed by not knowing the other stations, I was blessed by a new song. I stopped scanning because the song started with soft and easy piano. But when the words poured in, I was mesmerized. When I came back to the dorm to look up the lyrics, I realized that it was a poem by William Cowper before it was a song. There's such peace in it's resolution. It touched my heart 300 years after it was written. I hope it touches yours, too.

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sov’reign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow’r.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

-William Cowper, 1774

Facebook Fast

2007-11-08T14:39:00.000-05:00

Last night, I was chatting online with a good friend who had decided to give up checking facebook for a week. I decided to join him. What would it hurt?

I'm already having withdrawals. I didn't realize how often I checked it. But, taking facebook away from myself has given me time to write a speech, empty out all sorts of emails that had built up over the school year, and start on a paper that is due in a few weeks -- and that's only in a few hours. There are several other things I plan on doing with all the extra time... like clean off this mess of a desk I'm sitting in right now.

For those of you who know me, this week would be a great time to call, since one large source of communication is absent. The good thing is, I'm not dependent on it, and I'll still be busy. I'd like to encourage you all to join me in attempting something new, though small, this week. It's an adventure and tests your psyche. Let me know what you try.

Feel the Oldies

2007-11-06T09:06:00.000-05:00

I chose to blog today, not because I feel like blogging, but because if I were to stop, it might be indefinitely. So I chose to blog today. I'm supposed to write. I'm made to write.

I'll just share some quotes from oldies music I was listening to on Sunday.

"A little bit of love goes a long, long way." -Wynonna

"My mama taught me how to stand alone. She let me go but she still holds on, and I can still feel all of that love from here." -Wynonna

"Better to shower the people you love with love. Show them the way that you feel." -James Taylor

"I walked out this morning, and I wrote down this song. I just can't remember who to send it to." -James Taylor

"We are bound together by the task that stands before us and the road that lies ahead. There is a feeling like the clenching of a fist. There is a hunger in the center of the chest. There is a passage through the darkness and the mist. Though the body sleeps, the heart will never rest." -James Taylor

"A little bit of her was a little too much." -James Taylor

"Whenever I see your smiling face, I have to smile myself, because I love you." -James Taylor

"They say in every life... the rain must fall. ....Love... is sunshine." -James Taylor

Living For God

2007-11-01T14:52:00.000-04:00

Today was one of those days between Bible Studies when I didn't really know what to read, so I just fanned the thin and worn pages until I found something that made me stop. In hopes to keep my scripture reading intentional, I don't do that often, but when I do, I search for groups of words or lots of highlighting. The passage that I found this afternoon, 1 Peter 4: 1-11, had both. The bold-print section heading read "LIVING FOR GOD." I'd like to share some quotes and thoughts, as always (in NIV again)...

"Since, Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves with the same attitude, because he who has suffered in his body is done with sin. As a result, he does not live the rest of his earthly life for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God." (v. 1-2)

Christ suffered for us. Whatever attitude that required of him, we should have the same one. I love that "done with sin." It's like finishing a long and tedious English paper, and at the end, you leave the desk and stretch and say "Yes! I'm DONE with that!" Then the art of living the rest of your earthly life for the will of God. Wow. I want to master that art.

"Be clear minded and self-controlled, so that you can pray." (v. 7)

This seems like a good verse to think about just before spending some real quality time talking to Jesus. Sometimes the girls and I in the Cline Lifeline Bible study get so tickled about something that happened that day, that we have to refocus before we go to God in prayer, clearing the giggles out of our mind, controlling the hilarious girly thoughts about whatever happened that day, and just coming freely and ready to God for whatever He wants to do in that time.

"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality... without grumbling." (v. 8-9)

I've always dreamed of a big white house in the country with all my kids friends being welcome anytime to play and eat -- heaven on earth to me. That dream is the essence of the feeling I get from reading these verses... abounding love and hospitality.

"If anyone speaks, he should do it as one speaking the very words of God." (v. 10)

If I lived by this verse, how much more silent would I become?

Living for God seems different now.

Only See

2007-10-29T13:32:00.000-04:00

This is the closest thing to satire I have ever written. (Written on October 18, 2007)

I see them hurting.
And I can tell you all about their pain.
I watch their tears in storms like rain.
I see them crying
But from inside my bubble
There's just enough distance to save me from trouble.
I see them begging.
Though I don't want to hear
So to keep from feeling, I won't go near.
I see them bleeding.
It must be contagious.
Reaching out to touch would be outrageous.
I see them needing
With desperate hearts open wide.
Yet I cannot help in all my pride.
But I see them hurting.

One Word that Cripples Christianity

2007-10-28T22:40:00.000-04:00

So many words come in and out of the English language. Some fad words are good, others are bad, and still others begin well but acquire negative connotations after they have been used regularly. This latter type can be dangerous, not from the start, but after being merged with our vocabulary and slowly eased way into everyday language before we realize the negative psychological effect. By then, we have the slightest clue how our words, thoughts and actions became what they are.

One of these words has become increasingly common. AWKWARD. I was first introduced to this word by a group of friends through a joke. It was funny, and even had a catchy little hand gesture. I didn't hear it any more, however, until I lived with a couple of girls in Charlotte, who used it very often. That summer was when the pithy joke became a debate within myself of whether or not I wanted to add the word "awkward" to my own language.

Since then, through circumstances, observations, and scripture, I have personally been convicted about the uses of this word. I do not claim to have it all figured out, but I know what I know and this I will share.

Recently, someone told me that they would rather another person not show up to an event because it would be "awkward." I felt a knife penetrate my heart with those words. I don't want to only speak out to that someone, but to all of us who are tempted by similar tendencies. What have modern Christians become that we intentionally shut out opportunities to share time with others because of our selfish attachment to comfortable situations? And have we become so self-absorbed that we develop preconceived notions before entering even mundane circumstances, merely by telling ourselves it might be "awkward?"

Surely, as the beaten, robbed, and abandoned man lay on the side of the road in Luke 10, both the priest and the Levite passed by thinking to themselves that it might seem "awkward" to be seen helping him. Yet, it must not have even crossed the mind of the Good Samaritan's that bandaging a stranger's wounds, putting the man on the Samaritan's own donkey, and staying in an inn to nurse him back to health with not so much as a proper introduction to the man he was helping could ever be an "awkward" situation. And had he thought such a thing, it is doubtful that he said a word about it in respect for the hurting one.

What if the mother of the precious Savior and Redeemer of the world had refused the bear a holy child in such an "awkward" situation? What if marrying Mary had seemed far too "awkward" to Joseph? What if scorn by the world had been so "awkward" for Jesus Christ that he refused to have mercy on the people who were scoffing him and would be mocking him through the decades until the time we now live in?

And now, do we shut others out of our lives merely because we are afraid they will make the rest of us uncomfortable?

Situations ARE awkward. Media makes their living off of comedic awkward irony. Not to say that it is wrong to watch such shows or read such commentary, but who are we to brush off those real-life situations as a weird happenstance, when the truth is that God Almighty could see them as priceless opportunities? The word "awkward" is not the problem, but the attitude that has been associated with it is crippling Christianity itself. We have backed down, backed away, and backed off because society says some circumstances may be harder to deal with than others and we aren't confident that we are ready to deal with them at all. To be desensitized so intensely that it decreases how many people we are able to reach as Believers is the saddest idea of all humanity.

In Christ Alone

2007-10-27T12:40:00.000-04:00

During the Romans Bible Study I've been leading, I have learned so much about the Christian life in general. The purpose of Christ and His purpose for us becomes so clear within the chapters of that book. It has also enhanced my worship, because, now, all the songs make more sense than ever before. Here is one that simply takes my breath away no matter how many times I hear it. These lyrics are the message of the gospel and the hope within us who have Jesus. Nothing else keeps me standing but Christ's strength. Nothing else keeps me bowing but His righteousness. Nothing else keeps me dancing but His hope, nothing else keeps me singing but His grace and mercy. Nothing else keeps me living but His conquering of death.

In Christ alone my hope is found.
He is my light, my strength, my song.
This Cornerstone, this solid ground,
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love! What depths of peace!
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All,
Here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone, who took on flesh--
Fullness of God in helpless babe.
This gift of love and righteousness,
Scorned by the ones He came to save.
'Till on that cross, as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied.
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain.
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again.
And as He stands in VICTORY
Sin's curse has lost it's grip on me
For I am His and He is mine,
Brought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death--
This is the power of Christ in me.
From life's first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
'Till He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand.
(Stuart Townend)

Tainted Love

2007-10-21T15:03:00.000-04:00

"If this is giving up then I'm giving up on love. I'm not up for being a victim of love." (Anna Nalick)

These words were my day-to-day motto a few short months ago. I'm still struggling to push through that mindset.

So many males have changed their minds about loving me. They either loved me and then stopped, or told me that they loved me and disproved their own claim with contradicting actions. The only faithful and constant men in my life have been my earthly father and my heavenly Father. Yes, I'm a daddy's girl. I would trust Gary Yost with my life and everything in it. I go to him for admiration, affirmation, and advice. I know he would do anything for me. He tells me so. And I love my Lord so much that it hurts sometimes. I would do anything for Him. I'm overwhelmed with wanting to please Him. My entire life is His.

This sets a high standard for the guys in my life, because whoever God has planned for me to spend the rest of my life partnered with will have to love my Jesus just as much as I do. This can put up some borders for relationships.

I asked one of my close friends for advice about a guy the other day. That confidant basically said that I love Jesus too much and that He was getting in the way of my dating life.

At first, I was too shocked to respond. Then, I was hugely offended, mad, disappointed, and above all sad.

"LOVE YOU TOO MUCH!?" I screamed to Christ in the car on the way home. I was livid and affronted. What kind of tainted views does my friend have?! Jesus Christ could easily have come to earth and kicked back like a lazy bum and let me never experience peace or salvation or freedom or real life, but instead He looked at my confused drama and said, let me help. So He DIED for me. DIED. Death and all that went along with it -- pain, suffering, bleeding, sweating, yelling, suffocating, with nails, a cross, and a death march up Golgotha. For ME! And you think I love HIM too much!? I'm still living! Even martyrdom could not express the love between my Redeemer and me. He loves me way too much. I wouldn't even love myself that much. In Malachi 1:2, God said "I love you" and He meant it. I said "Really? How?"And He showed me. And whenever I stoop so low to think maybe He'll be just like the rest and stop loving me, he says "I the Lord do not change." (Malachi 3:6) And I love Him even more for it. So if loving Jesus too much "gets in the way of my dating life," let it be so -- amen?

Give me one example of what someone can do to love God too much? Seriously? What beats death? Oh wait.... Jesus did that too.

Grass

2007-10-18T21:16:00.000-04:00

Let's lie in the grass
And let the bugs
And the dirt
And the sun
Have their way with our skin
As we pretend to doze
On the wavy green sea, glowing in the daylight
Like my heart, glistening beneath your words.
Away from here, when the grass isn't tickling my toes
I question your sincerity,
But somehow, the beating sun,
The biting creatures
The sticking blades
Make you softer.
The silence makes you louder.
The open space makes you closer.
And the daylight makes you more obscure.
I want to hear you
Feel you
Understand you.
But not now.
Now, let's just lie in the grass.

(My poetry, 10-14-07)

To Whomever May Interpret

2007-10-11T14:07:00.000-04:00

Though I sleep very soundly, I rarely remember my dreams. However, I woke one morning with this dream still running through my mind.

I don't know what city I was in, but I know that it wasn't my hometown. I was in a large building, that seemed much like a church, when someone yelled "FIRE." I dreamed that I could see flames at the edges of my peripheral vision, but I wasn't afraid, only compelled to act. Suddenly, all the older adults brought children to me, then they exited the building. The children were different shapes and sizes, but all of them were black and around a year old. I had one in each arm, and several more nestled around me. Their clothes were tarnished in soot and ashes, ripped and hanging from them, but they weren't crying. Still, I could see fear and hurt in their eyes. Yet more than their fear, I saw their trust in me, or anyone not so powerless as they. I had previous knowledge that their parents had died in the fire and no one else wanted to be in this place with them. Somehow, I wound up in the center of the building, still burdened by the weight of several children in my arms and around my feet. The building wasn't burning down completely, only burning indefinitely. I oddly felt urgency amidst the sanctuary, but the urgency had changed from one of protection of the endangered and helpless, but the urgency to show others. It was an auditorium full of middle-aged white people and their nicely-dressed white children. I stood motionless and speechless in front of the crowd, as if the mere spectacle of myself and my orphans would bring change in their minds.

I have tried to interpret this since that night. I have come to several conclusions. Some make me cringe. Others make my heart hope for the future God has prepared for me. I am open to other interpretations. Please share.

"Here's To the You That I Thought Was Me"

2007-10-01T23:00:00.000-04:00

In the beginning of my junior year of highschool, I fell in love. It was real. Yet, within the next two years, nothing became of it.

My heart broke.

In last season's finale of Grey’s Anatomy, Christina was left at the altar on her wedding day. Later as she was ripping away her elegant wedding dress, she said something to the effect of "He’s gone! I’m free!" through tears and laughter. My fellow Grey’s Anatomy fans told me how confused they were by this contradiction. Christina loved Burke. How could she be happy that he was gone?

But I immediately understood.

I had been so in love with the aforementioned person that I would do anything possible for him, and more. My life was about being what he wanted and what I was sure that I wanted. I rescheduled my life’s agenda to fit his.

When those are the only facts that someone knows about our relationship – that I changed who I was for him – I’m sure they think I’m weak and shallow.

That is not true. In some ways, I was stronger and more stubborn then than I am now. At the start of my junior year, it wasn’t a "melt at his touch" or "succumb to his every demand" type of relationship. However, by the end of that summer, it was. So what happened in between? Whatever it was, it didn’t work. He never gave me the devotion I unfailingly offered to him with every thought and breath. It had been a process of total submission. And when he left, I found myself submitting to a vacuum. I was still morally the same person that I had been before, in actions anyway, except I had emptied myself of myself. Instead of filling the void with Christ, I had filled it with another one of Christ’s children... and a strayed one at that. What was it that kept drawing me so close to him even though he wasn’t moving at all?

I heard these lyrics by Casting Crowns, and my question was answered:

It’s a slow fade
When you give yourself away.
It’s a slow fade
When black and white are turned to gray.
Thoughts invade.
Choices are made.
A price will be paid
When you give yourself away.
People never crumble in a day.

I had slowly let him invade my thoughts and dominate my choices. Then the price I paid was a broken heart. And after I crumbled, it was a "slow fade" back into Jesus’ arms, as well -- so slow that I didn’t realized I wasn’t ruled by that person until I heard from him last week. Christina’s words came back, but this time I heard them in my own voice... through tears and laughter– "He’s gone. I’m free." And I discovered that a love even more real had gained victory over the vacuum of my heart.

Gain

2007-09-27T20:51:00.000-04:00

"But godliness with contentment is great gain." -1 Timothy 6:6

This has become my verse for singleness. Of course, I will want to remember this whenever I am dating or married, too, but it is particularly encouraging to me in this time.

Godliness and contentment. These are not very powerful words when merely read. They are not words like "love" or "death" or "abortion" or "American" which instantly invoke strong emotion. But these two words are infinitely influential when we contemplate how difficult they are to attain.

Godliness - being divine; showing reverence to God; being like God

Contentment - happiness in any situation

How easy are those? Not very. Living the right kind of life is tough enough. It is also difficult to feel even a spark of cheer when we watch our loved ones suffer, or if we are in pain. Where is the "Easy" button!? Can't I just skip the godly-and-content part?

And yet, I do not seriously consider skipping that part. I know that these are the only ways to get me where I should be. I don't want to push a big red button, then look back on these long years and say "That was easy!" I want to look back and say "That was worth it."

... I nearly ended this blog right there, but when I went back to the start to review... the verse changed my mind. "Godliness with contentment is great gain."

Uh oh. Maybe I read too deeply into that... or too shallowly. Very possibly. When I first read this, my subconscious definition of "gain" was self-centered. I automatically viewed "gain" as getting what I envisioned for myself in life (boyfriend, husband, family) without considering the absolute definition. "Gain" was also defined in the Bible as death.

Yes, death. Paul said "For me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain" (Phil. 1:21). ...So, stronger words really are involved in 1 Timothy 6:6 when godliness and contentment are set equal to gain. It's just as serious as "American," "abortion," "love," or "death" itself.

I'm not saying "Be godly and content, then you'll die." But I am saying that striving to be like God and finding happiness in every moment will get me closer to the will God has written for my life. No matter if His will is love or death or something in between, it is assuredly "good, pleasing and perfect" (Rom. 12:2). Whatever happens, I am promised to be gaining, and that's something I can live with.

"I'd Like to Buy The World a Coke"

2007-09-25T13:16:00.000-04:00

I gave a speech on Coca-Cola this morning. My close Coke-drinking buddies (Paul, Corey, Ben, Neal, Tim, I love you all) have spurred me onward in my pursuit of happiness in the Coca-Cola-enhanced lifestyle. I bought 24 Cokes ("I'd Like to Buy the World a Coke" - 1971 slogan.) to distribute to my speech class. The red labels shined in the morning sun. The cold bottles were fogging over in the red plastic carton. I bumped into a doorframe, and all 24 bottles formed tiny bubbles of carbonation around the top rim. I don't even drink Coke, but it brightens my heart to see it. I have discovered that I am enamored by how Coke's appearance. Red, white, black, and yellow are my absolute favorite colors, thus Coke matches almost everything that I own. ("Red, white, and you" - 1986 slogan.) I love the feeling from Coca-Cola advertising, too -- all smiles and unity.

Yes, of course, world unity is fantacy-made. My inner peace, tranquility, happiness, and contentment come from Jesus Christ. He's the real thing. ("It's the real thing. - 1969 slogan.) But Coca-Cola makes me smile, and I'm sure God smiles when His child does. Have a Coke, and a smile (1979). Enjoy (2000).

Here's a meaningless poem I wrote in my freshman year of highschool. Enjoy!

You pop it open.
You read its slogan.
It shoots like a hose
Right up your nose.
You giggle a little
And laugh til you spittle.
You shake it around,
And then you get drowned.
Please don't smoke--
Just have a Coke.

Valiant Men

2007-09-23T12:24:00.000-04:00

1 Samuel 10:26 says that Saul was "accompanied by valiant men whose hearts God had touched." Saul had burried himself in cowardice during the last blog, but atleast he got something right. Saul was surrounded by valiant people -- guys with wisdom and courage. These guys had good character and God had touched their hearts. Not touched by an angel, but by the Almighty Himself, and DEEP, in the core of their being.

This verse brings a huge smile to my face. I have been blessed with innumerable friends, but the greatest blessings I have recieved are the few faces that grace my mind when I think "valiant" or "whose hearts God had touched." These elite few are my Entourage -- godly people strategically placed in my life to fulfill Christ's mission. (See the Entourage sermon series at Elevationchurch.org.). Saul had his entourage already set up so that when troublemakers came (v. 27), he simply kept quiet. They picked on him, but they didn't get to him because of the confidence that had been built up by the support of his valiant friends.

This concept has changed my vocabulary. When I looked up valor in a dictionary, it said "the qualities of a hero or heroine; exceptional or heroic courage when facing danger (especially in battle)." My entourage isn't my "Best friends." It may be an elementary school complex for me, but even so, the term "best" seems isolated to only two people. " My new term is "Valiant Friends." Valor unifies and denotes a common goal already established for the group as a whole. The goal of the group as well as the individuals within it is to be led and touched by God. I need friends who are willing to fight with me for a noble cause.

To the valiant men (and women) in my life : I admire you, and I am with you. Let's get this job done.

Where Are You Hiding?

2007-09-21T14:41:00.001-04:00

When God told Samuel to choose a king for the people (I Samuel 8:22), he chose Saul (10:21). But the people could not find Saul anywhere. The Lord pointed out that Saul had "hidden himself among the baggage" (10:22). Saul had just been appointed King, and he was hiding himself!?

I read this verse in the same week that I embraced my call to ministry and missions. I realized that I had been hiding, too. I wasn't hiding from God, but I was changing the subject every time He began to speak to me about His calling on my life. I have been called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28). Why would I hide like Saul!? I have fate written all over me. I had to ask myself what baggage was holding me back from God's will? It was not fear of the task...I'm NOT afraid of my calling to ministry. It wasn't shame either. I am NOT ashamed of the gospel (Romans 1:16). I found the baggage that I cowered behind was the writer in me. I want to write my own cool story with my life, so I often forget that the Author of my Salvation (Hebrews 2:10) is striving for perfection already. My wants get in the way of His storyline, which is so much better than I could ever write. I'm worried about carrying my baggage of authorship and not about the burden of the lost world surrounding me.

How many of us who have been called hide in our meaningless baggage? How long do we bury ourselves in fear that another burden called "commitment" or "dedication" will be added, when truthfully, if we claim the one burden that Christ has for this world that He loves, He will rid us of all other baggage. It will be present, but it won't be so heavy. We will have many of the same everyday responsibilities (family, church, work, bills, school, etc.) but they will be lighter because Jesus holds those burdens and assists us so that we can live the life He has called us to live.

Climb out from behind all that baggage. Leave it, and walk into your appointed position. For Saul, it was specifically kingship -- ruling a nation. For everyone, it's simply trust and obey.

We Want More Samuel

2007-09-18T13:32:00.000-04:00

...Picking up in chapter eight of First Samuel....

Samuel was very upset that the people were rejecting him as their God-appointed judge. They were begging for a king like the other countries had. It was a "Greener on the other side" complex. Nothing was going downhill in Israel, so why did they covet another style? Samuel did not enjoy watching their discontent hearts. I'm sure he was feeling like a failure though he'd done nothing wrong. But God comforted him by saying, "It is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king" (8:7).

Have we rejected God by rejecting His leaders? As students? As Americans? As Christians? There are many great leaders today, just like Samuel, but are we letting them lead? Or are we constantly looking for a new leader? And in that searching, are we begging for something that we don't even know we are getting ourselves into? We are a world that focuses on leadership abilities, but are our follower qualities also in check?

This verse is a teaser for the outcome: "The wicked are edgy with guilt, ready to run off, even when no one's after them; Honest people are relaxed and confident, bold as lions. When the country is in chaos, everybody has a plan to fix it-- but it takes a leader of real understanding to straighten things out." Proverbs 28:1-2 MSG

This Is An Emergency

2007-09-13T22:59:00.000-04:00

In the past two weeks, I have witnessed three people being hauled into ambulances at separate times. First, on the way to a family reunion as traffic came to a dead stop in the mountains for an hour and a half for a motorcycle accident only about a half a mile ahead. Second, on the very next day as I was hiking, I watched one of my closest friends fall nearly 30 feet from a boulder then airlifted to GMH. And, thirdly, just last night, as I was watching my college football team, one of our players was taken off the field in an ambulance after a nasty tackle. In all these recent emergency situations, one thing grabbed my attention-- the unity of the witnesses.

In the first incident, all ethnicities, ages, and genders got out of their cars to see what was happening. Several made their way closer to see if they could help. They spread news from car to car about what they saw and knew. They called their families to suggest detours. -- Unity in chaos.

When my friend Ben fell, the three other friends whom I was with gathered around him and determined to get him out of the gorge. Strangers, a nurse, a Navy doctor, and two seemingly average guys came off the trails to help in any way they could. Everyone was on alert and of one mind to get Ben to a better area. -- Unity in chaos.

And last night, as one of our players fell hard on the field, the stands were silent and waiting, as if we were straining to hear his heartbeat in reassurance of his safety. Both teams stood praying on the sidelines. The administration gathered to make quick decisions. The EMS huddled around the stretcher near the end zone. We waited until he was on his way to the hospital, and then the game continued as planned. -- Unity in chaos.

Maybe it is simply human epinephrine ("adrenaline") that is kicked into action like a mother giving her life for her child. Maybe it's some leadership in all of us that takes charge and finds the moral thing to do in desperate situations like the heroes of 9-11. Either way, it happens often, and it comes so smoothly and swiftly that it must be natural. So when will this urgent mindset become part of our constant thought as Christians? Eternity is at stake. Lives are on the line. This is an emergency.

The Other Ark... (not the boat)

2007-09-10T07:00:00.000-04:00

The Israelites and the Philistines seemed to always be battling in First Samuel. Chapter four through seven depicts one of those battles.

When the highly-respected Ark of the Covenant was carried into the Israelites' camp, the Israelites started yelling and singing praises and making this huge uproar, so much that the very ground they stood on began shaking and the Philistines heard and wondered what had gotten into them. The Philistines figured out that the ark had done this and stole the ark. Eli (you know him... he's the guy who took care of Samuel in my last overview) had two sons who were in charge of the ark. They both died when the ark was stolen. When news of this reached Eli, he fell in shock, broke his neck, and died as well. Also, his daughter-in-law who was pregnant at the time, went into labor and died.

Now, I know you're thinking "What in the world? These people are going crazy!" But really, the Ark was an extremely important possession. It held important artifacts of the Hebrews' faith and was structured by God himself, just like the temple was.

The Philistines, however, had no respect for the ark, and placed it in the temple of their pagan god, Dagon. When the Philistines awakened the next morning, Dagon had fallen on its face before the ark. The Philistines set it upright again, but when they saw Dagon later, it had fallen down on its face and his head and hands had busted off and lay on the threshold. From that day, no one stepped on the threshold of Dagon's temple.

Each time the Philistine's relocated the ark, destruction came to that city. Eventually, the Philistines surrendered the Ark of the Covenant back to Israel.

I wonder where our passion and urgency is.... our respect and awe.

Extraordinary

2007-09-06T08:55:00.000-04:00

I apologize for the past few days that I have not posted blogs. So many things have happened, and I promise that I will update for you as soon as I have time to recollect my thoughts and put them in blog-format.

But as for now, I just want you to know that God has been extraordinary in the past few days. Of course He always is, but at times, He reveals His awesomeness so vividly that we are incapable of doing anything more than standing back and watching Him.

While I'm organizing my creativity into an explanation of the last couple days, here's an old poem of mine.

Life Extraordinary (4-11-07)

They ask
"Who would choose a life like this?
Giving up your own power
To gain someone else's freedom?"
And I find myself raising my hand.

"Who would lose the world
To gain a purer soul?
Who would dedicate the one life they have
To gain a life never seen?"
And I find myself taking a stand.

"Who would put themselves
Through tremendous suffering
And then strip away popularity?"
And I find myself stepping out of the crowd.

"Who would choose to love
Someone they've never even seen
--Choose living an entire lifetime
As a slave to that one love?
And I find myself surrendering on my knees.

"That's my life!" I scream.
And I find myself whispering, "But it was His, too."

It's Story Time, Kids

2007-09-01T21:17:00.000-04:00

Over the Labor Day long-weekend, my major assignment was to tell a Bible story in Spanish. Since it happened to be one of my favorites, I will share the English variation here.

Once upon a time, there was a family -- husband, wife, and two sons. The wife's name was Naomi (which means "pleasant"). There was a famine in their land, so the family moved to Moab. Shortly after, Naomi's husband passed away. Her two sons later married girls named Orpah and Ruth. But soon, Naomi's sons died, as well. The three mourning widows had no source of income or protection. Naomi told her two daughters-in-law to leave her and move back to their parents' land to find new husbands who could provide for and take care of them. At first, both of the younger women cried and said they would take Naomi back to her family and be with her instead. But Naomi was strong and stubborn. She argued that she would not have any more sons for the girls to marry. Orpah agreed and left Naomi.

Ruth, however, would not be persuaded. She refused to leave Naomi's side, giving a verbal contract that is now common for wedding ceremonies, and I assure you will be used in mine -- "Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me" (Ruth 1:16-17). These words make my eyes burn with tears, no matter how often I read them.

Naomi and Ruth traveled back to Bethlehem to find Naomi's family during the harvesting time of year. One of Naomi's late husband's relatives, Boaz, owned a field. From my understanding of the story, Ruth sneaked into the fields after everyone had already harvested, and picked up all the leftovers in hopes that it would be enough for her and Naomi. Boaz noticed her and asked one of his men to bring her to him. Boaz told Ruth that he didn't want her to work in anyone else's field, only his. He commanded all the men who worked for him not to lay a hand on her or even rebuke her as she worked. (I know some feminist readers may disagree, but as for me, that kind of protection is pretty sexy.) Ruth was surprised at his kindness and bowed at his feet in gratitude. She boldly expressed her curiosity to him, however, asking why he had paid attention to her, a stranger. Boaz explained that he admired her for her hard, dedicated work, the kindness she had shown selflessly and sacrificially to her mother-in-law, and told her that he hoped the Lord would find it best to use him to bless her. (WOW!) Then Boaz asked her to dinner. After she had left, he told his men to leave more wheat behind for her without letting her know. (How sweet!)

When Ruth told Naomi how nice Boaz had been, Naomi planned for Ruth to dress (and smell) nicely and go visit Boaz one night. Naomi called Boaz the "kinsman-redeemer." I particularly love the peculiarity of that phrase.... sometimes used in reference to Christ.

So Ruth visits Boaz in the night. I don't think it was anything scandalous. It seemed more sweet and serving. It says that she uncovered his feet (compared maybe to taking off his work shoes?) after a long day then slept at his feet. Boaz was so taken aback by her kindness that he called her "Eishet Hayil." This name is only used twice in the Bible. The other time that "Eishet Hayil" is used is in Proverbs 31 when the actual meaning is given... hence, Ruth is the only woman in the Bible specifically stated to be a "Woman of Noble Character."

Ultimately, Boaz was so happy that Ruth had chosen him instead of the younger guys on his property. Another man actually WAS supposed to purchase Naomi's property and subsequently marry Ruth, but something else came up and the man said to Boaz, "Buy it yourself." What a God thing!!!

And yet, the neatest thing about this entire story is that after Boaz and Ruth were married, they had a son ("Obed") who grew up and had a son ("Jesse") whose son was David. Yeah, that's right. DAVID! The king! The "Man After God's Own Heart." The one I've been attempting to talk about from First Samuel.... The Beginning of the line of the MESSIAH.

Astronomy Mishaps

2007-08-28T13:48:00.000-04:00

Two nights ago, I had the notion that Mars would be the brightest ever in years, and never so bright again for hundreds of years. I had recieved an email about it and heard a few of my friends discussing it. I told my suitemate Candice about it, and she was super-excited to go watch. I sent her out at midnight with a friend to look for it. She called a few moments later.

There was nothing to see. They had gazed from all over campus, and all they had seen was typical starlight.

I decided to look it up online from my room, and the information I found was ironically startling. The true date of the planet's brilliance had been August 2003! I felt ridiculously gullible but laughed a cleansing chuckle and appologized for wasting Candice's valuable time.

Today, however, at 5 a.m., there was another event in the heavens -- a lunar eclipse. I sat on the curb in front of my dorm, talking to my best guy friend Corey, and watching as the moon slowly disappeared.

When I was thinking about it later during classes, it reminded me of an old song that I feel all to closely relates to my life. I haven't decided if it relates to now, or in the recent past. Or maybe, it relates to my near future. But it definitely speaks to me about myself.

"Every now and then I get a little bit lonely... I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears ...I get a little bit restless, and I dream of something wild ...I get a little bit helpless, and I'm lying like a child in your arms ...Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time. I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark. We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks. ...Once upon a time I was falling in love, but now I'm only falling apart. There's nothing I can do. ...Once upon a time there was light in my life, but now there's only love in the dark. Nothing I can say. A total eclipse of the heart. " - Bonnie Tyler, "Total Eclipse of the Heart"

Relationships for the past two years have made me feel as if we were just gunpowder waiting to explode. Since I rid myself of them this summer, my mind has been far from relationships while I've been in school these past couple weeks. It's like I've flipped a switch and turned off my heart, so instead my mind could rapidly use the stored energy. I trust God in the darkness, in the singleness, but I'm carefully reassuring that there aren't any lightswitches I'm responsible for flipping back on.

Meeting

2007-08-26T17:47:00.000-04:00

As I come to the service, an awkward guilt sits in the distance formed between us.
To avoid being disappointedly expectant, I hide hopes that the sancuary's warmth
Will shatter the ice crystals hanging.
Coming down the aisle, you lead me to a seat.
Anticipation starts rising
As more people start coming
And crowd within this building.
The back doors are closing,
Separating us from Earth,
And absorbing us into better world.

The first guitar strum brings our anticipation to a peak,
Converting it into adrenaline as we stand peering
On the edge of the connection
For which we've both been waiting
And longing
And thirsting.

I sing and my soul is set free.
I breathe.
I breathe a breath
That seems my first successful breath
In decades.

I see your hand reaching
And welcoming
And beckoning.
How long has it stayed there,
Unnoticed?
How much gentle touch...
How much precious time
Have I missed?
I raise my hand.
Our fingers intertwine.
I sense I'm holding your hand,
But you're really holding mine.
My hand is consumed with the unnatural size.
Here,
Right here,
In the gap
Between our palms,
You feel so real.
So unbelievably real.

I had forgotten that you were.

On Waiting Quietly and Being Vulnerable

2007-08-25T11:31:00.000-04:00

Here I'll pick up my summary of the book First Samuel, starting back in chapter 3. A boy's mother had dedicated his life to God, though little Samuel was probably too young to understand his call and purpose. Still, his heart was ready to serve at a young age.

One night, Samuel heard a voice awakening him from his sleep and supposed that it was Eli, the high priest with whom he was living. Samuel showed submission to Eli, simply saying "Here I am"(vs. 4, 16 NIV). Eli, however, hadn't said a word to Samuel, so he wisely pointed Samuel to God, thinking it was God's voice who had spoken. When Samuel heard the voice again, he transferred his practiced submission to the Lord with innocence so powerful and the same easy words, "Here I am." When he was convinced that it was Almighty God speaking, Samuel added, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening" (vs. 9 NIV).

I long for this same submissiveness and humility in every beat of my heart. I desire the wisdom that Eli shared at the end, though it seems so common sense: "It is the LORD; let Him do what seems good to Him" (vs. 18 NASB). Like Samuel, my heart is more vulnerable when when I am sleepy. At my most exhausted moments, I write and think most uninhibitedly. I have particularly open communication with God just as my head hits the pillow at night, and especially just as my eyes breach open in the morning. Since childhood, I pray about the day before I get out of bed, even if only a breath-long prayer.

This morning, my Bible fell open onto the cafeteria table showing my yellow highlights over Lamentations 3:22-26. I was surprised, as always, at the Lord's small applications, even within the two words "Every morning" and how this passage related to my thoughts of Samuel's openness of communication with the invisible, invincible Yaweh.
"Because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him. The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord."

May the time that my heart is open at the beginning and end of each day stretch to fill every hour.

Positively Positive

2007-08-24T12:29:00.000-04:00

In my public speech class, we are learning that in order to remain calm when we are nervous, we are supposed to let positive thoughts fill our minds and push out the negative ones. The books goes even further to say that the ratio should be five positive thoughts for every single negative thought.

I have been an optimist for my entire life. I've been reading William Blake's Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience which portrays that most children are optimistic, but prolonged difficult circumstances make us hardened to positivity. Tough times have failed to change my mindset for anything but the better. Hard work at Elevation this summer simply enhanced my optimism, mainly because I saw the outcome of optimism. I firmly believe that optimism versus pessimism is all about perspective and attitude.

I have a book called 14,000 Things to Be Happy About, which is simply a lengthy list of nouns covering about 600 pages.
Ex:
no expiration date
Shirley Temple
beach lunches
a caring doctor
serendipitous plans

It seems cheesy at first; however, I am currently finding use in it. I am auditioning for BSU Fusion praise band in 20 minutes. I need five-times the amount of negative thoughts to be turned into positive ones in order to kill the nervous jitters. 14,000 things just might suffice.

Snakes, Snails, and Puppy-Dog Tails

2007-08-22T07:58:00.000-04:00

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to take care of little boys, to watch them be rough and tough, then bandage their cuts and kiss their bruises. I simply have compassion and understanding for male children more than females. I love little girls as well, but there is some other, deeper passion within me to be involved in the lives of little boys and to help them grow into godly men. I know it is an odd concept, but I did not create this desire, so the Creator must have placed it within me.

The weirdest thing is not knowing the future. I don't know what God's future plans are for me family-wise. I don't know whom I will marry... and if I marry, then what? Adoption? Foster-parenting? Running a children's home? Kids of my own? If so, how many? But something is sure -- The Father has a purpose for even my tiny hopes.

Many times I have prayed for the Lord to give me at least one boy if He blesses me and my future husband with children. I had never heard anyone else pray for the sex of their baby long before it was even conceived until I read about Hannah in 1 Samuel 1. (I'll be blogging about this book for a while.)This passionate lady begged the Lord so intently that the priest thought she was drunk! (vs. 13). I loved the verse which read "I was pouring out my soul to the Lord" (vs. 15). It's so easy to relate.Bravely, Hannah promised the Lord that if only He would give her a son, she would willingly dedicate the child's entire life to the Lord's service. (vs. 11).
God granted Hannah the son for whom she had begged . She named him "Samuel", which even meant something like "I asked the Lord for him" (vs. 20). She not only was brave and persistent, but she also had a heart-load of wisdom. She knew that Jehovah deserved the credit for everything good, and that anything He gave to her needs to be given right back to His service.

I often ask "Who am I to be so picky and want a boy? Why do I ask years in advance?!" Hannah made me realize that many great women are earnest, sincere, and sometimes fiery. What an amazing woman and dedicated mother. I want to be that dedicated and willing to push my children in the ways of Christ. Hannah said, "The Lord is a God who knows!" (2:3) God knows us and recognizes our unique --sometimes odd --preferences. May my heart be as Hannah's.

New and.... Expected?

2007-08-21T14:19:00.001-04:00

"I am making everything new!... Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."
Revelation 21:5

School is BACK! New black ink pens, smooth notebook paper, wiry notebooks and paper clips, funny professors, roomates, and even new dorm decor! I am such a geek!... And proud of it.

Yesterday began my first full week of classes, but only the third week that I’ve been back in SC. With all the transitions, it has been difficult to keep my blog in mind, but the themes God keeps highlighting in my life.

Just before school began, I had minor plastic surgery to slightly straighten my nose. Watching it heal, I realized that very little had changed physically, yet it made a great difference in my facial features.

In the same way, I was so excited about starting this semester because I knew it would be amazing. When I arrived on campus, not very many things had been drastically changed, but still, it made a noticible transformation.

As I contemplated the impact of small alterations, I realized that God works similarly. Sometimes believers make drastic changes in lifestyle, and social areas in order to follow God’s will, such as leaving a secure career to plant a church in another city. Sometimes these faith-trying, earth-shaking changes are necessary to complete the Savior’s willful commands.

It seemed like my life was unique and cliche, yet obvious and unexpected. This may sound like a double oxymoron, but sometimes God just makes the expected explode so enormously that, though it was expected, the extent of it was not!
But often, the change God has in mind is not as elaborate as we expect, yet still better than we ever could have imagined for ourselves.

I've Always Loved Surprises!

2007-08-13T23:24:00.000-04:00

It has been a very long, very exhausting day. With moving into my dorm and standing in lines for keys and student IDs, etc. and ofcourse, the same emotional back-of-my-mind struggles I've been trying to overcome for three weeks, my body, mind, soul, and spirit were just praying to stick together for another 24 hours.

And then, a surprise.

NGU hosted Steve Fee in concert tonight.

(For those of you who don't know, over the summer I have come to love Steve Fee's worship music.)

Don't you love it when God surprises you?

Blessed Momentum

2007-08-12T13:37:00.000-04:00

For the past two and a half months, I have woken up at 4am every Sunday, driven over half an hour to church, and worked from the time we set up until the time we tore down around two or three that afternoon.

This morning, I woke up at eight o'clock, had spare time to get ready, drove five minutes to church, said hello to the people I hadn't seen in a while, sat in a padded seat for an hour, then drove five minutes back home, in time for lunch.

It seemed like disillusionment. My perspective of the Church had changed so much over the summer that it was difficult to envision what it was like before the revolution. And I didn't want to think about my previous views. I wanted to take what I had learned from Elevation and apply it to every possible area of my life. I took a page of notes from the pastor's sermon this morning, but I took just as many notes on the thoughts running through my mind on how the church in which I sat could be improved. Call it critical, or call it constructive. Either way, my mind is bustling with energetic ideas and new found willingness to make better and accomplish whatever Christ sets before me, and I will take ultimate advantage of that blessed momentum.

Just like I told a friend today online, "Life is SUPPOSED to get better and better as we grow and learn! This part of my life is THAT!"

This Is Punishment

2007-08-11T20:12:00.000-04:00

The reminders of yesterday have been so difficult today. I want to pour my feelings into this blog uniquely and to my full potential, but I think it would make me feel worse tonight. So, I'll post more lyrics by other artists, because sometimes my own creativity is too painful to regurgitate to others.

I thought that this was supposed to feel good.
And if you were really mine,
I guess it would.
I didn't fall in love
'Cause it was the right thing to do.
I just went ahead and fell for you....

Truth is your heart was never mine to take
Now I'm stuck in a feeling
That I'll never shake
I prayed for it to go
God knows I want it to stay
But here I am loving you either way.

Oh, somewhere down along the line
I guess that love became a crime
This contradiction makes no sense.
This is punishment.
I feel like this is judgement day
I'll raise my hands, stand up and say
I don't believe I'm innocent
This is punishment.

You'll never feel all the things I can't say
And I'll never know if it's better this way.

-SheDaisy

Crazy Horoscopes

2007-08-07T18:42:00.000-04:00

No, I don't put my faith in the stars, but I think that this still perfectly states my views of love. And I know it's cheesy, but my mom found this in the back of one of her romance novels and felt compelled to share, since I am a Libra.

......................................

The setting is perfect for romance. Your eyes sweep across the ballroom sparkling with chandeliers and just-poured champagne. Dialogue swirls around you as effervescent as the setting. You finally spot your handsome, dashing hero talking to the ambassador...

If you're an air sign, this scenario speaks to your romantic heart. Your fantasy may not be as extravagant as fancy dressed balls, but if a prospective hero can't blend with your friends or help you explore new social horizons, then you won't cast him in a lead role.

The social mix does change, however, depending on your sign. Librans fill their guest lists with people from the cultural world. Your element may be air, but that doesn't mean you are "air-headed" when it comes to romance. Just the opposite is true; air signs place the intellect and the world of ideas above all other concerns. Bright and stimulating conversation ranks high on your list of attractive qualities in a man.

Alone with your beloved, good communication is more important than any other demonstrations of affection. Let others sigh deeply and gaze soulfully into their beloved's eyes, or shower them with rose petals. You'd rather be with a hero who can articulate his feelings.

Paradoxically, you are often drawn enigmatic types. This is because your own constantly-active mind loves a puzzle. A potential hero who is a bit complicated intrigues you. You always assume that if you apply your intellect, you can figure him out. And if he can match wits with you, and even top you now and then, you're likely to stay fascinated for life.

If you're like most air romantics, you are far too restless in youth to settle down too quickly. And as much as you need companionship, your standards are very high. You believe in an ideal mate -- which may be hard to come by in imperfect, real life.

But when you stop focusing too much on the ideals of romance, you can fashion the kind of relationship other people envy-- one with excellent communication played out against the backdrop of a glittering social life. Some might say the setting and plot can overshadow the inner workings. That's okay with you-- you're probably already planning your next ball.

A Toast to Friends

2007-08-07T07:16:00.000-04:00

I happen to be right about God's incredible talent of filling those gaps that I mentioned in my last blog. I attended several Elevation meetings with the office staff yesterday morning. It was a difficult goodbye followed by a three hour drive home listening to my "Driving" playlist on iTunes, thinking about the lengthy and tiring summer full of intense blessings and cursing discouragements.

Hello hugs from my parents were wonderful, but it was different from every other time that I have come home. I had not been home in over a month, but I had spoken with one of them nearly every day on the cell phone. I had missed them, but I had also been majorly busy, focusing my energy on other emotions and activities. I knew that they were proud of me, the decisions I have been making, and the changes within and without myself, so there was a peace in that distance, making ours a more grown-up homecoming.

Last night, I had my best friends (Paul, Corey, Ben, Neal, Tim, Melissa, and Lauryn) over for a party where we did shots of Coca-Cola and had a singing, guitar/piano-playing extravaganza. We have the best times together. Suddenly I realized how deeply I had missed having unconditional friends. My heart bursts with love for them and several other close friends who weren't present. I pray that they feel how truly I adore them.

Missing people whom I love had become part of my life for the past few months. I had forgotten what it was like to have them right next to me -- feeling their voices instead of merely hearing them through the phone, laughing simply to hear ourselves laugh, smiling with them in silence of good thoughts, praying with them in a happy and real way.

And tonight... this blessing that one might call "once-in-a-lifetime", somehow comes once again, as always, in the most peculiar times and strategic places.

Leaving Monroe

2007-08-05T22:14:00.000-04:00

Today was my last full Sunday at Elevation (for a long while, anyways). Tonight is the last night that I will spend in the Dinkins' house. In some ways, I am ready to leave, but in others, I could stay here in Charlotte forever.

No more sleeping on a futon without sheets.
No more carpet. (Neither my home, nor NGU have carpet.)
No more barking dogs.
No more high-cal, high-fat, fast food and non-perishables. Back to my good diet!
No more 30 minute drives to work everyday.
No more random workouts. Back to regular exercise!
No more airconditioning-less nights in a bonus room.

But.....

No more children. College doesn't include juveniles.
No more beautiful Monroe, NC.
No more Levi.
No more bright orange offices.
No more office staff.
No more paychecks.
No more being far from home.
No more having my own room.
No more summer.
No more live Elevation Worship Band.
No more live Pastor Furtick sermons.
No more smiling Elevation volunteer faces.

My heart knows that God is not a God of gaps. He will fill the areas I leave in Charlotte with something better that He has prepared me for throught this experience. It has been priceless, to an extent that I cannot yet comprehend, therefore will elaborate upon at a later time. For now, however, I must pack the remnants of memories and photographs, mix them with personal necessities, and drag them with my heart on a three hour drive back home.

The Repercussions of Media

2007-07-31T22:22:00.000-04:00

When I first began this blog, I intended it to be a place that I could type out my thoughts and have some accountability to encourage me to keep writing. Now, however, I feel as if I give my readers a picture of an emotional reject. I write on the lowest and highest points of my everyday life. I am sorry if you are getting this image of me. I am not that extreme in person. Get to know me outside of this emotion-type blog. It's only my release.

Up-swing : Tonight was fabulous. It was the first night of Elevation's Summer Blast. It was the night we'd all been waiting for, praying for, and preparing for. And it was marvelous. The kids were so pumped about the entire thing. I have found out how much I adore children in this Charlotte experience... how fun it is to see their faces light up. It makes me wonder if I'll have my own children, or if I'll be involved in children's ministry.

Down-swing : I wanted to share that moment with someone ... someone whom I couldn't anymore.
On the first day, I avoided the radio altogether, driving in silence. But I realized my addiction to music and that silence only made me think deeper. Then, I tried listening to songs that made my heart dwell on other things. That playlist is very short. I would switch radio stations and skip songs on iTunes until I found something that was uplifting. Then I realized that I was listening to the same songs over and over. So I sat myself down in the locker room and pep-talked myself into thinking I was ready for whatever live-radio had to throw at me. Here's what happens when you let media shuffle it's way into your thoughts...

"Someday I will find a love that flows through me like this, and this will fall away. I'm a loser."
And for a second, I wonder if it's true.

"Beautiful Girl... you'll have me suicidal... when you say 'it's over'."
And I pray for his heart.

"I'd rather live in his world than live without him in mine."
And I wonder if I should just take the train straight to his home town.

"I'm so glad for someone like you I can come home to"
And I ask myself why I gave that up.

"You have a way of coming easily to me; and when you take, you take the very best of me.... What a shame. What a rainy ending given to a perfect day. ... And now that I'm sitting here thinking it through, I've never been anywhere cold as you."
And I worry about him.

"No one ever tells you that forever feels like home sitting all alone inside your head. How do you feel?... How much is real? So much to question."
And I go home in a different way.

Credits: "Loser" -3 Doors Down. "Beautiful Girls" - Sean Kingston. "Midnight Train to Georgia" - Gladys Knight. "Tuesday Night" - Adam Hood (who would be amazing in concert with Corey Smith... gah, the little things that make me think). "Cold As You" -Taylor Swift. "Through the Glass" -Stone Sour.

Shipwrecked Tonight

2007-07-28T21:26:00.000-04:00

For over a year this relationship has grown -- starting with simple get-to-know-each-other games, and progressing to deeper-soul conversations.

Then it ended.

It certainly wasn't ended because of boring discussions. Part of the problem could have been that the discussions were getting too intense. I liked it. And it scared me.

Let's take that thought and run with it.

Fear. I was afraid of not knowing how serious our relationship should be. I was afraid of confusion between love of a man and love of God. I was afraid to be blinded. I ended a relationship with a human, not because I thought it would come between my Savior and me... (no, that would take much stronger forces) but because I felt the relationship would take the place of God's original will for my life.

Fear. I don't want to be one of those people who turn away good love, and never find it again. But I don't want to settle. I want a relationship that does not rely on electronic devices (cell phones and computers) as mediums for survival. I want (and possibly deserve) something real. Something present.

I have never cut off a relationship. I hate this feeling. I feel so stupidly smart, so intelligently ignorant. I don't know anymore what was wrong or right about it. I was so sure when I told him goodbye, but since then I have picked up my cell phone many times wishing I hadn't deleted his number and resisting the urge to recall it. I have typed his screenname into my buddylist, only to delete it and close the box before I went back on my decision. That entire day was excruciating. I'm still aching, pacing the stairwell, refusing to wipe the tears in denial of their existence, hoping my stomach settles, praying that, if he really isn't God's will for me, I will heal. And if we were supposed to be together, that God will correct this era in my life for His glory. Five days down... and the rest of our lives to go.

I wrote a song and a poem today. It's in blurbs right now. I don't think I have the strength to share it all, but I will type pieces.

(Poem)
I always followed my heart
But it was a rocking ship;
Being blown apart
By chaotic emotions
That must have been lying
With all the opposite notions.
I'm a shipwreck
Rocked extreme to extreme
Plunged into the deep
Of my current catastrophe.
Are you a shipwreck, too?
Do you want to swim back to shore
Where you won't miss me anymore.
Does your stomach ache with hunger pangs?
And your eyes pour more tears the lower the sun hangs?
Are you quieted by bustling thoughts
That are murky in your mind
But opaque in your heart.
I beg never to know
How you might feel
We were forced apart
Please, love me not
Though I love you still.

(Song)
Show me how to heal
Show me how to deal
With this shipwreck
Teach me not to love
Just to give you up
Because I'm going down
With this shipwreck.

How close two beings can grow to be simply amazes me. Tonight, my heart is throbbing for another. I have been an emotional shipwreck all week, particularly today, because I wasn't distracted by work. And I know that he would be off today, too. Does he have too much free time, as well? God, bless his soul. Comfort him. ... Comfort me.