From October 17th 2012

Let’s be honest

Some nights you need to stay up and face the rebel thoughts that flit in the back of your mind. The hours of sleep I would have gotten slip away slowly, hardly any of my homework is done, and paper and clothes are strewn around my room. The mess is minor, but I can never do anything worthwhile unless my room is in perfect order. For the first time I realize why: a messy room provokes my carefully repressed fear that, put crudely, I will never get all my crap together. I look at my life, at the way I live every day, and all I see is the lack…the lack of discipline, the lack of rightly ordered loves, the lack of deep love for Christ and his church, the lack of passion for holiness. I see the giant gaping hole and I see the sickeningly petty things that I try to drape over it to convince myself that I’m doing alright. But the truth is, I am not alright.

For a few months now I have been in a strange spot. It started sometime after I got back to the States in July and I haven’t found my way out. It’s the feeling that something is very wrong but I don’t know what it is or how to fix it; as though I fell into a deep pit but I don’t know when I fell, what the pit consists of, or how to climb out again. I am nagged by the fear that my depression is no longer just seasonal, but is creeping into the long sunny days and choking my joy. I know that something deep within me needs to shift so that I can know the Lord with the intimacy that I once enjoyed and live in beautiful freedom. I just want someone to sit me down and tell me how to get back where I need to be—to get in my face and shower me with encouragement and call me out on my sinful and unhealthy habits. I want someone to take me by the hand and help me back on my feet and then stay by my side and walk through the valley with me.

This place is lonely, but then again I am alone before God. I look to my right and left and everyone feels too far away to help me. But I know that he is God. This is not a tidy conclusion…I know I will not find answers waiting for me at the end of a blog post. But I need to be vulnerable and see my foolishness written out in words. And like David at the end of his psalms I can say “this stinks, everything is against me and I feel helpless—but you are God and that is the only answer I know.” So I will shove my clothes off the bed and crawl in with the maddening knowledge that I’m not ready for tomorrow. But I will do so knowing that the Lord is God and he acknowledges me as his own…and I will fall asleep hoping that someday, somehow, my life will truly be built upon and around that knowledge.

From September 18th 2012

Sovereign over real life

Real life is messy and busy and hard. It’s a truth, but not an uncomfortable one—actually once you accept it and settle into it, it becomes a comforting rhythm. I have three tests, a lab, and a paper all due within three days of each other. I have other random homework assignments. I have friends with broken ankles and messed up backs that I want to take care of. I have relationships to build and maintain, an apartment to clean, a dentist appointment to make, not to mention learning how to drive and seeking fellowship with my Father.

It’s real life. It’s really busy. It’s a little messy. Some days, it’s kind of hard.

But I’ve been reminded over and over again that I am called to come and die: to my pride, to my time, to my own paltry strength and self-interest. I am called to walk boldly into the impossible for “The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be silent (Exodus 14:14)” and “You have given me the shield of your salvation, and your right hand supported me…You gave a wide place for my steps under me, and my feet did not slip (Psalm 18:35-36).” 

Today, for this season, I have been called to live in Jackson, Tennessee, with it’s charming old-looking storefronts, it’s Rockabilly roots, and it’s broken and marginalized society. I have been called to pursue knowledge with passion at Union University and prepare to be a God-honouring nurse wherever He would send me next. I have been called to seek His face and His Word and fellowship with His church here, as well as seek the broken, lost, and cast-off in order to proclaim the Gospel and give myself up in service. If that’s not messy, hard, and busy I don’t know what is. But in the midst of the whirlwind there are moments of peace like this. Where I am able to sit still and feel keenly that my life is infused with purpose that I will not fully understand until I am in the Heavenly Kingdom. In this peace, I feel like I am a step closer to understanding the beauty of the Gospel and it’s implications in my life. He is so faithful to support us with gentleness, and tenderly guide us within the Impossible He has called us to.

From April 26th 2012

We and the crickets

We stood silent, we four; leaning against a lamp post, sitting on the pavement, standing upright as if in salute to the coming twilight. The lightening and the hail had shredded the cloud cover, leaving shards of varying blue, tipped with orange by the descending sun. There was a hush that could not be broken, even by the chirping of crickets or the the mumbling of a loudspeaker over at the baseball fields. We were still.

Be still and know that I am God.

The red-breasted robin began to splash around in the puddle near my feet and then lifted off past the row of cars. The muggy air gently enveloped us.

And my soul wells up with Hallelujahs.

We four worshipers saw the effect of light, how it illuminated bits and pieces of cloud and diffused colour, while letting the periphery sink into deep indigo. We saw the light and saw that it was good—and let a whispered song rise up to The Maker of light. We let the sky drown out the students walking to and fro and the traffic on the bypass. We allowed ten minutes to forget the papers and final projects that were weighing down our spirits and creating bags under our eyes.

No one wanted to speak. No one wanted to walk away. When in fellowship with the Almighty Father of Light, all other things seem insipid and fruitless. Finally, one, two slowly rose to our feet and began to shuffle back toward Heritage, keeping both eyes above us every minute.

How could we leave this temple and return to our tiny bedrooms with artificial light and frustrating responsibilities?

Because that is worship too.

From February 27th 2012

It must be February

And then there are the nights when you just want to cry, so you do. Because you secretly suspect that you have bed bugs, and there is a big test tomorrow, and you have nothing but a doughnut to eat for breakfast. And the art history text book you so enjoy talked about Byzantine art and showed pictures of home, but most of the class declared that they didn’t think the icon was all that beautiful. So you are homesick and grumpy at Americans who don’t appreciate Byzantine iconography and now you are craving Türk Kahvaltısı.

So you study furiously in the library as basketball players swagger around you and Chi O’s giggle at the next table. You secretly curse neurons, the prefrontal cortex, and action potentials and then ask God to forgive you because his creation IS rather spectacular. You are just so tired of studying it and miss the skeletal system. And you think to yourself, “what kind of fool was I to think I could be in Honors and do nursing at the same time?” and then the reasons all your friends gave you in the first place come flooding back and you sigh and turn back to neuroglia.

Your jeans aren’t washed, the dishes aren’t done and you just want your mom to come and make you dinner. And you wish you could expel the very existence of exams and papers. And you are just so tired, but you don’t want to go to sleep because then you will have to wake up and face the millions of things you have to accomplish tomorrow.

So you do what any sane person would do: you eat another doughnut.

From November 21st 2011

When God calls you on your promises

It is one thing to tell God over and over that you are surrendering. It is one thing to inform him that you trust him no matter what else happens. It is one thing to say that he can take it away at a moment’s notice and you will be alright.

It is another thing entirely when he looks you in the eye and asks you to do just that.

Giving up expectations is easier said than done. There is the temptation to ask God whether everything that had come before had just been a trick; whether it is in his divine will to mess with my head. There is the temptation to try and fit the new status quo into my own narrow perception of the universe.

But in the end, all I can do is give up and sit at his feet. And admit that I don’t have a clue what is going on and I can’t make rhyme or reason of it, but that’s okay. And ask what he has to teach me. And strain my ears to hear his whispers. And as I sit there, little phrases start to come to me, as though they were wafting in the wind.

Be still and know that I am God…

You give and take away, my heart will choose to say ‘Lord blessed be your name’…

Behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her…

I am the LORD your God, I will not share my glory with another….

So I let those phrases pour over as I give up and lay my head down to sleep. And I wake up no longer torn and heartsick, but quieted and cherished,  singing words like,

I’ve found a sweet haven of sunshine at last

and Jesus abiding above

His dear arms around me are lovingly cast

And sweetly He tells His love.

He saw me endangered and lovingly came

To quiet my storm beaten soul

Sweet words He has spoken and bless His dear name

The billows no longer roll.

His love shall control me through life and in death

Completely I’ll trust to the end

I’ll praise Him forever and with my last breath

I’ll sing of my soul’s best friend.

The tempest is o’er

I’m safe evermore

What gladness what rapture is mine

The danger is past

I’m anchored at last

Anchored in Love Divine

(http://jennyandtylermusic.com/lyrics-content.php)

From October 17th 2011

Of Wanderers and Oil Paints

“Are you going home for Fall Break?”

“No I’m going to Kentucky to visit my parents.”

Blank confused stares, criss-crossed categories…but there’s no use taking the statement back. I could embark on an epic tale detailing my life of nomadery and the recent transitions my family has gone through. But I won’t. Because they don’t care that much. So I just smile and leave them to their confusion.

A five hour drive through rolling hills and trees displaying varying degrees of beauty and deadness. Sporadic conversation: the Gospel…the beauty of being a child of God…Islam and the people who live under it…ministry…church…classes. A little Josh Garrels thrown in. Some long silences, and perhaps a short nap on the part of the passenger.

Tumbling out of the car into the arms of my parents who shoo me into the world of Baptist Academia. Where the men wear starched suits and the women wear too much lipstick. I tug on my dress, smiling through my travel-weariness. Senior citizens shake my hand, my father’s colleagues reveal a disturbing amount of knowledge about me. Note to self: interrogate father later about what vicious rumors he has been spreading. Descend into the library, where a catacomb of literary paradise goes on seemingly forever. Book upon book upon book. Deep leather furniture, random paintings and displays, a sword upon the wall, a medieval manuscript laying out…I feel like a child whose fingers are coated in dirt and strawberry jam, but who wants to touch all of the pretty things.

The short days go by quickly. Running errands with Mom, going to pick up the gentlemen from their respective schools, coffee dates with Dad. Setting the table, coming across books I haven’t read in years that mysteriously appear out of white cardboard boxes. Oh the beautiful chaos of trans-Atlantic moves. I open up my box of paints like Howard Carter opened the tomb of Tutankhamun, I unfold my easel lovingly. Three beautiful days spent up to my ears in bright hues, linseed oil, and paint thinner. I emerge from my room be-speckled and smelling like chemicals, but my eyes are bright and my heart is satisfied.

But all the while, in the back of my mind, I think “I can’t wait to go home.” And then I laugh, because I am an MK and I don’t really have one of those. It’s the cost of living a life of nomadery and always sounds awfully melodramatic. Those who wander have always been made out to be romantic figures. But frankly, I miss Jackson, Tennessee. I miss my uncomfortable bed in Rogers 76, and Ruth’s couch in Pascall 61. I miss eating with friends in Cobo and sitting under my tree near the clock tower. I miss taking evening walks and talking about my Lord, who I am falling in love with in a whole new way. I miss my church, oh so much. 

And then I have the pleasant realization that maybe—just maybe, mind you—when I drive into Union University tomorrow at noon, I might be coming back to the place where I belong.

From September 17th 2011

Winnowing

Winnow (win-oh)

verb (used with object)

1. to free (grain) from the lighter particles of chaff, dirt, etc., especially by throwing into the air and allowing the wind to blow away impurities.
2. to subject to some process of separating or distinguishing; analyze critically; sift.
3. to separate or distinguish valuable from worthless parts.

(via Dictionary.com)

When I was little my parents were very intentional about making me memorize scripture. John 3:16, Romans 3:23, Psalm 100….we would play games during the day to help us remember them and we would recite them as a family before bed. I didn’t realize how valuable this was at the time, but now I am so thankful that my parents discipled me to put away God’s Word.

One of the first passages I remember memorizing was Psalm 100, which goes something like this [warning: Charlotte paraphrase]—The man who stays away from sinful men and their ways and instead goes deep into the word of God and finds his delight there, he will be blessed greatly! But the wicked man will never last: he will perish.

In those days when the men of Israel harvested their grain, they would take the whole pile and throw it up in the air. The grain would fall to the ground, while the lighter (worthless) chaff would blow away. This process is called winnowing. In the Psalm, David uses this idea to compare the two kinds of men: just as the chaff is blown away, leaving the good grain, the wicked will vanish leaving those grounded in the truth of God. 

As I thought about this concept, I realized that it can’t just be given a courteous nod and left inside the Scriptures when we close our Bibles. Followers of Christ must be intentional winnowers in all aspects of our lives. My friend Ruth and I have been discussing wisdom a lot: where to get it, how to get it, how to apply it to our lives. We were sitting on her floor eating granola trying to sift through an issue and figure out what principles we should embrace and how we should live. And I realized that we cannot seek wisdom passively, taking to heart anything that vaguely applies to our situations in life. We must crusade for wisdom. We must fight to find it, poke holes in it, ask for it from those ahead of us, winnow and winnow and winnow until we find what is really true.

And what Ruth and I found as we were winnowing, was that the truth was really uncomfortable. It left us with knots in our stomachs and actions we had to take that made eating glass look preferable. It didn’t make us feel better: it showed us that we were wretches with diseased hearts. It showed us that in order to kill that disease we had to take medicine that would make us feel worse before we could feel better and we had to surgically remove things that we cling tightly to.We had to die. But as that truth fell to the floor and the empty phrases blew away in the wind, there was a comfort in knowing that no matter how scary and painful it is, we have a God who clings tightly to us. We have a God who loved us before we were lovable, who constantly pursues us and knows how to woo our hearts. We have a God who redeems us from the pit, forgives our sins, heals our diseases.

So let me challenge you: inspirational quotes, life-mottos from famous people, lines from popular songs—they blow away in the wind. They have no weight to them, they have no value. When you need something to sustain you, you will find that they have no substance. Winnow them out. Look for the grain that will satisfy your hunger and give you strength for this life. Actively fight for it: it is the only thing that will keep you alive.

From September 5th 2011

Adding up

Going to a church and feeling like you have come home…being challenged by the message…feeling Christ tug on your heart once more…realizing in a fresh way how astounding the cross is.

Spending two hours on the phone with your mother…finding that you have reached a point where you can relate as friends…sharing little details of your life and laughing together, seeing how great this relationship can be.

Spontaneously walking over to a friend’s room and eating her food…talking about God, boys, God, and then God again…pouring out our hearts over chicken and salsa and feeling renewed as the rain patters down outside.

Taking a walk through campus and feeling chilly for the first time…skipping and laughing at little things…singing silly songs and just enjoying each other’s friendship…hopping into a friend’s car and being goofy at the Wendy’s drive-through.

Sleeping late on a Monday and enjoying a long shower…walking over to join friends and eat homemade chili…letting our insides warm up as we think about the cold, blustery wind outside…curling up on an unmade bed piled with blankets, cozy in a hoodie and fuzzy socks…watching the trees sway outside the window.

All of these things add up….

“And my soul wells up with Hallelujahs.”

From August 28th 2011

Insufficient

Lord, the more I live and learn and grow, the less I become. More like, I realize more fully how I am nothing. The closer I get to you, the more I see how stupid my pride is. The more I understand who you are, the more I realize how disgusting my sin is, and then I am utterly overwhelmed by the magnitude of your grace.

Lord, I am finally beginning to see how insufficient my efforts are. I’m finally beginning to get that I can bring nothing about through my own planning, strength, best efforts. The picture of who I really am is starting to have a little more clarity: that of a broken, limp sinner who has been forgiven, healed, and cleansed entirely through the power and mercy of my God, and who breaths and walks and speaks only because you ordain it. And I am beginning to see that life makes more sense when I surrender and just praise you, rather than fight you.

Lord, I don’t want to be the woman in Ezekiel 16, but I know I am. So this is me, coming before you again, trying to thank you with the nothingness that I am. I am nothing. I have nothing. But I know that you can pull somethings out of me if you so desire. So take my sinful nothingness and breath pure somethingness into it. I am insufficient, but you are extravagantly more than sufficient. You are beauty and purity and wisdom and passionate love. All I’m asking is to have a taste of that which I know is so far above my comprehension.

Put words in my mouth, strength in my limbs, direct my steps and fill me with songs of glory to you. Give me an unending thirst for your presence and a passionate love for your church. 

Lord, I’m finished with faking somethingness. Take my insufficiency and work your thrilling, glorious will.

A Transfer

I am one of THOSE people.

The kind that is blown about by every whim and fancy of the blogging world, bright eyed and idealistic at the beginning, and unforgivably lazy at the end. I've blogged in all sorts of formats and never quite found one that I stuck with. Then I discovered Tumblr and thought that my search was at an end and I had found the one format that would work for me. And in some ways I had, because I have no intention of giving that account up. But Tumblr was not meant for long posts: it was meant for pictures or bite size thoughts. It is tailored for those who are inclined to be pithy and post a lot of pictures. I found that I tended to be a better consumer than contributor to that format.

So while I will continue to browse Tumblr and occasionally post a picture or quote, all of the longer writings will be transferred hither. I will bring over the longer Tumblr posts that I want to preserve and then add to them.

So for those who like to read my writings (hi Mom) here is the place to go. I might even publish my creative writings on here, once I am done revising them.

So here we go again. I hope--somehow--something useful will be contributed to society.