I'm not going to say much (well, comparatively speaking. By now you probably know to stop reading after a few paragraphs because these posts soon become epistles). If you read my last post, you know that last week was the breaking point of my exhaustion. It was not a sudden burst of it or just one bad week, it was the culmination and realization of something bad that had building up a long time and was threatening my being. Man do I hate evil- well, at least I hate it most of the time when I recognize it for what it is (which I don't always do, I confess).
But prayer is an amazing thing and our God is an amazing God so this week has been much better. But this is not one of those uplifting, sha-la-la,-things-are-terrible, but-God-makes-everything-wonderful-again-in-the-blink of an eye posts. Because if it were, that would imply that my problem was just a poor state of mood, a bad week, or even just me not realizing some key fact and then, because of some revelation or God's presence, everything was miraculously perfect again. This is not that story.
Not to say that God couldn't or even doesn't make everything wonderful or make everything miraculously perfect, but I feel like God doesn't usually choose to work that way, at least not in this type of situation. In some cases, where the problem is a single incorrect notion or a simply distance from God, or some kind a problem between you and God, He can and sometimes does instantly make everything feel right with the world again, depending on the situation.
This darkness that took up residence inside of my and the slump that followed was not a problem between me and God, it was a problem between me and evil, and thus, a problem between me and myself for which I enlisted the help of God. In fact, I came to realize the problem was that I had tried to fight off darkness for so long on my own, trying to be strong enough, forgetting to tap into God's strength, and so I became tired, weak, and fell prey to all sorts of dark thoughts.
Even my roommate and co-workers were thrown off by how off I was. After being somewhat snappy and terse about something or another one of my co-workers asked very concernedly if I was okay. Talking to my roommate this week she recalled, "I didn't know what to do. I've never seen you like this before." Long story short, I was not okay.
But I digress, the point here is that my problem was and is the continual problem of all human kind- that of having a constantly sinful nature and needing to make an effort to battle it. The problem was with my own will, giving it over to God, and doing the work it takes to give it over (which is kind of an interesting notion, but I won't go into that now). Because God gives us free will, he won't force us to give our will over to Him and force our decisions and thoughts on a daily basis to change for the better. And this is what I needed, to change them for the better, work on continually loving people. Thus, by that logic, God would not do something miraculous to make everything better because the source of my problem is within the domain of myself over which God has given me free reign. And free reign over myself, well, that's just trouble. Thank God I have God to help me out and guide me, right?
So, this week has not been easy, it has been a continual effort to work on loving people all the time and make an effort to live my life in Christ, to go back to making the efforts I was before this exhaustion took over. And it's hard getting back on the wagon. And of course, a whole ton of prayer and quality God time has been involved. After a few days I just felt the joy come back- I could see beauty in the world again. The fog that highlighted everything, every edge of the hills thrilled me, I felt like I was flying into the sunrise as I drove to work on a beautiful day listening to music my best friend burned for me. I genuinely laughed with my students and friends, and I finally appreciated a few moments of work for being precious and something that I will not be able to hold until. I was able to cherish moments of my life again. It's amazing and interesting how loving and working on walking in Christ taps you into this fountain of Joy. But I suppose that makes sense as God IS pure joy (among many other things), so tapping into Him means tapping into Joy itself.
This week the grass even came up- there is green on my planet again. I can't tell you how much the sight of that just opens up my soul and makes me feel alive again. It shoots up through the dark dirt and is suddenly green and bright, feeding off the light. Perhaps this culmination, this realization of the darkness that had enveloped me was like the final straw, the last second I could take from winter before I broke through the darkness, out into the light with new life.
Today I played the piano next to my open balcony door, the sunlight streaming in, a soft breeze playing with my hair as if God were continually saying hello. I played bright, happy, notes, major staccato chords. Improvising, letting the notes float out on the breeze that had a breath like summer. My roommate came in the door and asked how I was as I joyfully plinked away on the keys, I smiled and said I was amazing, that it was a beautiful day.
I am much better, although I am still not all the way okay. But glory hallelujah it is spring, there is new life in the world around me, there is new life in my chest, and by His Grace there is redemption so if I praying, keep working, keep looking for the light, I think I'll be more than fine.
Lloyd (see week 37) was right, I can give my love, my light, away freely, because God gives it right back. He restores our souls. Of course, the process of giving out our light is continual and one that requires constant effort and diligence, it is not some miraculous quick fix. Giving out light is a life long project that is easy to view as a chore, that is, until He fills you back up with light even brighter than you could conceive, and when you remember that, you can't help but give it out freely and joyfully.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Week 37: The most dangerous death... (and the tricky things about exhaustion and love)
is the one you don't see coming, the one that kills a part of you you didn't expect to die. Perhaps you didn't even believe this part of you could die. It can come after a great tragedy, a great pain. Something earthshaking, so big that by sheer probability you don't expect anything else as dangerous to come around for a long time. This great tragedy threatens to knock you down, topple your walls. But it's obvious, you see it coming like a Tsunami- you feel the shock so you run even before the wave is visible- it can catch you. You seek High ground. Eventually the waves subside, leaving all kinds of damage and debris but you, your whole self, is still alive. Yet the water remains in low lying areas, it seeps down deep, into your foundations, slowing wearing at them, silently breaking you until one day, there is a noticeable crack, a frightening, seemingly irreparable gap. It's the silent aftermath, that gets in under your radar, and cracks your insides- the very basis of your being. And if your foundation is completely destroyed, your entire house eventually crumbles. This is the most dangerous death- dangerous because it's the most difficult to prevent and because of the area it targets, the most deadly.
Perhaps I've been slacking in updating on my 70 weeks lately because it's just a process of recalling unpleasantness, rehashing the battles I'm fighting, or the ways in which I feel dead. And I suppose I also feel the obligation to be somewhat positive in updating this- I don't want this blog to be a vent session, I want it to seriously explore theological and philosophical themes in a way that is constructive and somehow provokes the thoughts of people who read it. So, I had to wait until all my grumpiness turned into some actual deep and constructive thought in order to write to you. Needless to say, I'm a few weeks behind so I will be posting in rapid succession.
First off, it's no secret that my mother's medical issues have been impacting my 70 weeks, where I am spiritually, emotionally, etc. In addition, my work situation is stressful and I have been working in the same place for the length of time it takes most teachers to get burnt out (a year and a half to two years where I work is usually the point where you see most of even the most positive and dedicated teachers starting to get tired and fed up- some amazing people never show the signs, but unfortunately, I'm not one of them). Here's the thing- when work got stressful, I fought back, I was still pushing through being who I wanted to be- loving, working on how I was viewing people and interacting in the environment around me. When things suddenly looked really terrible with my mother medically, I cried and had to battle with it, but the evil was so recognizable that I fought back. I was diligent in prayer, God gave me peace, I was ok or at least more ok than I should have been and in fact, doing great spiritually. "Wow, I thought, I must be super strong, I made it through this." But then, the evil didn't go away, bad things kept happening, work remained stressful, my mother's health continued to deteriorate, and last week, I found out she now has cancer in her one remaining lung in addition to her brain.
Heh. Evil is so tricky like that. First, it doesn't just come and go- it stays, it's a persistent, nasty thing. And not only does it stay, it goes underground, quiet, so you don't notice it, you let your guard down and just when you do, it slips in. And not only does it do that, it gives you pride for thinking you've beaten it (even when you haven't) and now you've committed a sin! So now, evil is two fold in my life: 1) attacking me spiritually/emotionally 2) now a part of my behavior in the form of pride.
But it doesn't stop there. While it silently attacks, it slowly gets into your behavior further- pushing you to commit more sin and thus move further from God. It's attacks slowly, imperceptibly until suddenly you feel the weight of the world and you're exhausted. So you say, "my life is really tough right now, I'm exhausted, I need a break" and you cut yourself some slack. But not always in the good areas like giving yourself more time to pray, more sleep at night, healthier food. You give yourself less work and more time by doing fewer things for others, even giving your brain and spirit less work by stopping to continually strive in your everyday thoughts to love others, and hold sin (like pride, lust, and just hurtful thoughts) captive. Now, you have a disease- of exhaustion and pride- a vicious circle. Because you're exhausted, you allow sin to enter which makes you more exhausted, allowing more sin to enter, and on and on it goes until you realize you're burnt out from the passions you feel you have due to convictions from God and suddenly, you're just an exhausted, sinful, passionless mess that is pushed so far down, you're barely up to asking for (and sometimes even doubting the power of) redemption to help you out of this crater (and we know it could, the problem is asking for it and believing in it in order to receive it, which sin is so good at preventing you from doing because sin likes to stay, it hates being pushed away).
When I said dangerous, I was not kidding.
And so I was exhausted and burnt out with my work and life in general. And for me, being burnt out of my job feels like a personal sin. I spoke earlier about this "tsunami" being dangerous because of the place it targets- your foundations. And that is exactly what happened. My foundation is obviously my relationship with God but my relationship with God initially was founded in my work with children. I first came to know God almost through my call to work with kids. My relationship with and understanding of God has developed and He ultimately is my foundation, but my faith is still extremely linked to my calling and my work, in a way that can sometimes present problems.
But, I have always said that if I had any quality that made me a good teacher, it would be my love for kids and my passion for teaching, that anything else good spawned from that (and that love comes from God). I remember always scoffing at teachers who "burnt out" and I even remember proclaiming to someone defiantly, "I don't burn out."
So this evil, this exhaustion, this gradual, imperceptible growth of darkness inside me completely shook me when I realized it had targeted the very core of me- my passion for what I do, and thus threatening, not necessarily my faith, but how I live it out and thus my walk with God and everyone else around me. In short, I was not the person I wanted to be, was still struggling with my mother's medical issues, and even what I should do next year at work as the age of students I work with/the type of program I'm involved in will impact where I will go after I leave here, the type of job I'll get, and really how effective I will be wherever I am based on the type of experience I get. Needless to say, I was trying to pray about where I should go next year and after my 70 weeks while in the middle of a crises regarding what is at the heart of my 70 weeks: my calling, what I should be doing with it, how I should be executing it, and how I should be working toward glorifying God with it.
Of course, all of this clarity on the issue took a while to come, and it came from a lot of introspection and prayer. I spent a lot of the week completely drained and really at the end of my rope. Of all the things that have been happening in my life lately, nothing has thrown me off as much as suddenly realizing that I had "burnt out" because I simply can't be "burnt out"- were I to remain that way I would be an ineffective teacher, ineffective in my daily ministry with everyone around me, and continually growing more and more distant from God. Terrible things happening doesn't necessarily alter you at your core- this slow attack on my core was much worse, much harder even though you wouldn't guess it. Finally, at my wits end I went for healing prayer while at church, which is something I've never done. First of all, I may ask for prayers during "prayers of the people," but I've never gone with the intercessors for healing prayer because, well, I never really needed healing. Sure, I needed answers, comfort, many people in my life needed healing, but I was never sick to require that specific type of prayer. Last week, I felt like I was broken, I was spiritually sick, I didn't know what else to do. One of the intercessors, Lloyd, who is quite an old character- a Vietnam vet with a booming voice- said, well, more like yelled at me, "LOOK AT ME. I GIVE YOU MY LIGHT. I GIVE IT TO YOU. I GIVE IT TO YOU FREELY because I KNOW that He will give it BACK TO ME, HE WILL REPLENISH IT ENDLESSLY." And it was then I realized my problem.
I left church and went to Chauncy lake for the first time since fall. If you recall, Chauncy Lake is where I wrote the first pieces that have become the early posts of this blog. It is where I went last summer to walk and talk with God and really worked on my 70 DAYS of loving God properly. Since it was a warmer and sunny day that was approaching spring, I was able to finally go again. At first, I felt like I was in a graveyard. The trees, once green and luscious, were still bare bones, the blue of the sky still held the harsher hues of winter, and everything with littered with colorless leaves from the fall that had never blown away. They just remained like remnants of my usual hellish falls and winters.
But slowly, I let my heart soften, stopped talking and started listening, just feeling God's presence again like I had when I had walked here when it was warm, before everything fell apart. I thought about what Lloyd said and realized that I had been holding back my light- from co-workers, from students, from everyone I had been around. I was not making an effort to love them, to act in love toward them, to actively think and walk in Christ every day. And I had done it because I felt too tired and that I had felt that so much of my light had been drained by all the circumstances around me that maybe I felt I couldn't give it away, I didn't have enough. I had to selfishly hold the light that I had, keep it closed in inside. But a light hidden under a bowl goes out.
After much prayer it seemed that the cure of this exhaustion, this burn out, was more work, more effort to "walk the walk," stop slacking in an effort to live my life in Christ- the cure for this was more love. Love is a lot of work, but when it's Love that comes from God, it's light, both luminous and lacking in weight, and it's a renewable resource. Lloyd was right, God gives us light and love endlessly so we can give it away freely. And, I find, when we don't give it away freely, we ourselves are in chains.
Perhaps I've been slacking in updating on my 70 weeks lately because it's just a process of recalling unpleasantness, rehashing the battles I'm fighting, or the ways in which I feel dead. And I suppose I also feel the obligation to be somewhat positive in updating this- I don't want this blog to be a vent session, I want it to seriously explore theological and philosophical themes in a way that is constructive and somehow provokes the thoughts of people who read it. So, I had to wait until all my grumpiness turned into some actual deep and constructive thought in order to write to you. Needless to say, I'm a few weeks behind so I will be posting in rapid succession.
First off, it's no secret that my mother's medical issues have been impacting my 70 weeks, where I am spiritually, emotionally, etc. In addition, my work situation is stressful and I have been working in the same place for the length of time it takes most teachers to get burnt out (a year and a half to two years where I work is usually the point where you see most of even the most positive and dedicated teachers starting to get tired and fed up- some amazing people never show the signs, but unfortunately, I'm not one of them). Here's the thing- when work got stressful, I fought back, I was still pushing through being who I wanted to be- loving, working on how I was viewing people and interacting in the environment around me. When things suddenly looked really terrible with my mother medically, I cried and had to battle with it, but the evil was so recognizable that I fought back. I was diligent in prayer, God gave me peace, I was ok or at least more ok than I should have been and in fact, doing great spiritually. "Wow, I thought, I must be super strong, I made it through this." But then, the evil didn't go away, bad things kept happening, work remained stressful, my mother's health continued to deteriorate, and last week, I found out she now has cancer in her one remaining lung in addition to her brain.
Heh. Evil is so tricky like that. First, it doesn't just come and go- it stays, it's a persistent, nasty thing. And not only does it stay, it goes underground, quiet, so you don't notice it, you let your guard down and just when you do, it slips in. And not only does it do that, it gives you pride for thinking you've beaten it (even when you haven't) and now you've committed a sin! So now, evil is two fold in my life: 1) attacking me spiritually/emotionally 2) now a part of my behavior in the form of pride.
But it doesn't stop there. While it silently attacks, it slowly gets into your behavior further- pushing you to commit more sin and thus move further from God. It's attacks slowly, imperceptibly until suddenly you feel the weight of the world and you're exhausted. So you say, "my life is really tough right now, I'm exhausted, I need a break" and you cut yourself some slack. But not always in the good areas like giving yourself more time to pray, more sleep at night, healthier food. You give yourself less work and more time by doing fewer things for others, even giving your brain and spirit less work by stopping to continually strive in your everyday thoughts to love others, and hold sin (like pride, lust, and just hurtful thoughts) captive. Now, you have a disease- of exhaustion and pride- a vicious circle. Because you're exhausted, you allow sin to enter which makes you more exhausted, allowing more sin to enter, and on and on it goes until you realize you're burnt out from the passions you feel you have due to convictions from God and suddenly, you're just an exhausted, sinful, passionless mess that is pushed so far down, you're barely up to asking for (and sometimes even doubting the power of) redemption to help you out of this crater (and we know it could, the problem is asking for it and believing in it in order to receive it, which sin is so good at preventing you from doing because sin likes to stay, it hates being pushed away).
When I said dangerous, I was not kidding.
And so I was exhausted and burnt out with my work and life in general. And for me, being burnt out of my job feels like a personal sin. I spoke earlier about this "tsunami" being dangerous because of the place it targets- your foundations. And that is exactly what happened. My foundation is obviously my relationship with God but my relationship with God initially was founded in my work with children. I first came to know God almost through my call to work with kids. My relationship with and understanding of God has developed and He ultimately is my foundation, but my faith is still extremely linked to my calling and my work, in a way that can sometimes present problems.
But, I have always said that if I had any quality that made me a good teacher, it would be my love for kids and my passion for teaching, that anything else good spawned from that (and that love comes from God). I remember always scoffing at teachers who "burnt out" and I even remember proclaiming to someone defiantly, "I don't burn out."
So this evil, this exhaustion, this gradual, imperceptible growth of darkness inside me completely shook me when I realized it had targeted the very core of me- my passion for what I do, and thus threatening, not necessarily my faith, but how I live it out and thus my walk with God and everyone else around me. In short, I was not the person I wanted to be, was still struggling with my mother's medical issues, and even what I should do next year at work as the age of students I work with/the type of program I'm involved in will impact where I will go after I leave here, the type of job I'll get, and really how effective I will be wherever I am based on the type of experience I get. Needless to say, I was trying to pray about where I should go next year and after my 70 weeks while in the middle of a crises regarding what is at the heart of my 70 weeks: my calling, what I should be doing with it, how I should be executing it, and how I should be working toward glorifying God with it.
Of course, all of this clarity on the issue took a while to come, and it came from a lot of introspection and prayer. I spent a lot of the week completely drained and really at the end of my rope. Of all the things that have been happening in my life lately, nothing has thrown me off as much as suddenly realizing that I had "burnt out" because I simply can't be "burnt out"- were I to remain that way I would be an ineffective teacher, ineffective in my daily ministry with everyone around me, and continually growing more and more distant from God. Terrible things happening doesn't necessarily alter you at your core- this slow attack on my core was much worse, much harder even though you wouldn't guess it. Finally, at my wits end I went for healing prayer while at church, which is something I've never done. First of all, I may ask for prayers during "prayers of the people," but I've never gone with the intercessors for healing prayer because, well, I never really needed healing. Sure, I needed answers, comfort, many people in my life needed healing, but I was never sick to require that specific type of prayer. Last week, I felt like I was broken, I was spiritually sick, I didn't know what else to do. One of the intercessors, Lloyd, who is quite an old character- a Vietnam vet with a booming voice- said, well, more like yelled at me, "LOOK AT ME. I GIVE YOU MY LIGHT. I GIVE IT TO YOU. I GIVE IT TO YOU FREELY because I KNOW that He will give it BACK TO ME, HE WILL REPLENISH IT ENDLESSLY." And it was then I realized my problem.
I left church and went to Chauncy lake for the first time since fall. If you recall, Chauncy Lake is where I wrote the first pieces that have become the early posts of this blog. It is where I went last summer to walk and talk with God and really worked on my 70 DAYS of loving God properly. Since it was a warmer and sunny day that was approaching spring, I was able to finally go again. At first, I felt like I was in a graveyard. The trees, once green and luscious, were still bare bones, the blue of the sky still held the harsher hues of winter, and everything with littered with colorless leaves from the fall that had never blown away. They just remained like remnants of my usual hellish falls and winters.
But slowly, I let my heart soften, stopped talking and started listening, just feeling God's presence again like I had when I had walked here when it was warm, before everything fell apart. I thought about what Lloyd said and realized that I had been holding back my light- from co-workers, from students, from everyone I had been around. I was not making an effort to love them, to act in love toward them, to actively think and walk in Christ every day. And I had done it because I felt too tired and that I had felt that so much of my light had been drained by all the circumstances around me that maybe I felt I couldn't give it away, I didn't have enough. I had to selfishly hold the light that I had, keep it closed in inside. But a light hidden under a bowl goes out.
After much prayer it seemed that the cure of this exhaustion, this burn out, was more work, more effort to "walk the walk," stop slacking in an effort to live my life in Christ- the cure for this was more love. Love is a lot of work, but when it's Love that comes from God, it's light, both luminous and lacking in weight, and it's a renewable resource. Lloyd was right, God gives us light and love endlessly so we can give it away freely. And, I find, when we don't give it away freely, we ourselves are in chains.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Weeks 35 and 36: Adjustment and Light
I'm a little late in posting this, but I couldn't skip week 35 as it marks the halfway point in my 70 weeks. I must admit, I haven't been focusing on the prayer of where I should be as much as I should. I've been working on trying to focus my prayers- really keep my 70 weeks and my future in prayer. In general, I've been losing touch with God a bit- just not having quality time. I'm especially trying to remedy that during Lent and have been pushing forward more in prayer about where God wants me. This is more of an update post rather than a philosophical post as my 70 weeks as evolved a little.
Reality, however, has been knocking on my door these past two weeks (which is also why I've put off this post- I don't want to deal with reality). Political issues with the new and ridiculous(ly terrible and unconscionable) bill in Wisconsin may mean that jobs back home in IL/WI in a year and a half (when I would move back) will be hard to come by or a bad idea because classes could have 40 students with special ed students completely included (in WI) and highly qualified teachers from WI will be looking for work in IL because of the poor situation for teachers in WI.
There are a lot more details I'm to exhausted to discuss, but in short, a conversation with my mentor (and old professor) led me to believe being a public school teacher (which is where I had felt called up until this point in my 70 weeks- and where I still feel called) is unrealistic and that I should embrace all the opportunities I would have with my BCBA/master's degree in applied behavior analysis. He's beginning a program to train BCBAs in WI and would like me to teach at my alma mater (Carthage), supervise BCBAs, and potentially eventually direct the program. I could see myself doing this potentially many many many years down the line if God called me to it, but not now. But my mentor made my calling seem like such a hopeless case, that I should at least go into consulting and parent training. All of this feels so phony- I haven't taught enough in the public schools to consult for them and tell them how to run things.
I feel called to teach- to teach teach. Special ed students in a public school. But my mentor, my mother- they all sound disappointed, like I should do "more" (which, what really is more than being a teacher on the front lines?), they talk as if I'll grow out of this notion. And I still feel like God wants me to teach teacher, but then again, I don't know anymore. I'm just generally confused and thus praying more specifically about my next phase of life, as I said earlier.
And in general, I'm still just so exhausted- my entire life just feels like a heavy weight I can't lay down. At least I've had some quality God time this weekend. I had a pretty spiritual experience at the Over the Rhine concert I went to on Friday- realizing how far I've come, and just singing along to a lot of their songs like I was at a praise concert- and in a way, that's what it was.
I took the bus back from New York City today and lay down on the seat, the sun shining through the glass roof of the double-decker bus. I skipped over all the songs on my praise/Christian related playlist that talked about all the ways we fail, how much we need to repent to God, how we need to change our behavior. I know all that, I'm far too focused on all that right now, to the point where I nearly doubt my redemption because I realize just how much I fail. So, I listened to "bridge over troubled water," playing it over and over hoping to feel comfort and trust from God- that he would remove my burden when I'm "weary, feeling small." And for the most part, He did- I felt His presence surrounding me, warming me, although I still didn't have any clearer answers.
When I hit Boston, groggy and still confused and cranky, I went down to the redline to catch the T home. A man was playing a classical guitar- the song was just exactly what my soul needed to hear. Warm and alive- I can't describe it beyond that. I dropped a dollar in- I usually just do change- because his music was exactly what I needed. I stood on the platform, swaying back and forth, and just felt God with me- more clearly this time- and more specifically, I felt Jesus. So strongly I'd almost swear He was there, had come down in the body of a street performer to play this song just for me. Tears came to my eyes and the train appeared- a soft warm light. So maybe I don't know where I'm going, but if it's the right train, I think I'll be alright.
Reality, however, has been knocking on my door these past two weeks (which is also why I've put off this post- I don't want to deal with reality). Political issues with the new and ridiculous(ly terrible and unconscionable) bill in Wisconsin may mean that jobs back home in IL/WI in a year and a half (when I would move back) will be hard to come by or a bad idea because classes could have 40 students with special ed students completely included (in WI) and highly qualified teachers from WI will be looking for work in IL because of the poor situation for teachers in WI.
There are a lot more details I'm to exhausted to discuss, but in short, a conversation with my mentor (and old professor) led me to believe being a public school teacher (which is where I had felt called up until this point in my 70 weeks- and where I still feel called) is unrealistic and that I should embrace all the opportunities I would have with my BCBA/master's degree in applied behavior analysis. He's beginning a program to train BCBAs in WI and would like me to teach at my alma mater (Carthage), supervise BCBAs, and potentially eventually direct the program. I could see myself doing this potentially many many many years down the line if God called me to it, but not now. But my mentor made my calling seem like such a hopeless case, that I should at least go into consulting and parent training. All of this feels so phony- I haven't taught enough in the public schools to consult for them and tell them how to run things.
I feel called to teach- to teach teach. Special ed students in a public school. But my mentor, my mother- they all sound disappointed, like I should do "more" (which, what really is more than being a teacher on the front lines?), they talk as if I'll grow out of this notion. And I still feel like God wants me to teach teacher, but then again, I don't know anymore. I'm just generally confused and thus praying more specifically about my next phase of life, as I said earlier.
And in general, I'm still just so exhausted- my entire life just feels like a heavy weight I can't lay down. At least I've had some quality God time this weekend. I had a pretty spiritual experience at the Over the Rhine concert I went to on Friday- realizing how far I've come, and just singing along to a lot of their songs like I was at a praise concert- and in a way, that's what it was.
I took the bus back from New York City today and lay down on the seat, the sun shining through the glass roof of the double-decker bus. I skipped over all the songs on my praise/Christian related playlist that talked about all the ways we fail, how much we need to repent to God, how we need to change our behavior. I know all that, I'm far too focused on all that right now, to the point where I nearly doubt my redemption because I realize just how much I fail. So, I listened to "bridge over troubled water," playing it over and over hoping to feel comfort and trust from God- that he would remove my burden when I'm "weary, feeling small." And for the most part, He did- I felt His presence surrounding me, warming me, although I still didn't have any clearer answers.
When I hit Boston, groggy and still confused and cranky, I went down to the redline to catch the T home. A man was playing a classical guitar- the song was just exactly what my soul needed to hear. Warm and alive- I can't describe it beyond that. I dropped a dollar in- I usually just do change- because his music was exactly what I needed. I stood on the platform, swaying back and forth, and just felt God with me- more clearly this time- and more specifically, I felt Jesus. So strongly I'd almost swear He was there, had come down in the body of a street performer to play this song just for me. Tears came to my eyes and the train appeared- a soft warm light. So maybe I don't know where I'm going, but if it's the right train, I think I'll be alright.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Week 34: Long Distance
It's been an exhausting week. I realized I didn't need a vacation from work, I needed a vacation from my entire life. And well, that's difficult to coordinate. I've been full of frustrations, many involving God.
I feel as though most of my life involves me shouldering burdens- wherever I am. At home, at work, with family, with friends. I ask God why I have to carry so much. Of course, he replies, in the voice of my old Gospel choir director, "you've gotta lay your burdens down, child. And you know you'll feel betta, so much betta, if you lay 'em down." But I still think of my future, the end of my 70 weeks and I just see more challenges, more burdens.
I feel distant from God, a large portion of which I am at fault for. I find myself spending so much time talking about God, talking with fellow Christians, surrounding myself with Christian ideas that I forget to talk to God and have an actual relationship with him. It's like talking to all your friends in relationships about your relationship and reading advice books on relationship but then never spending anytime with your significant other. It doesn't work.
But I also feel as though I'm just so distant from His will, off from where he wants me in my daily life. Not in the big things, just in all my millions of small actions, in my thought process. I'm distant in that I put things before Him in value, want more things than His love.
Yet, here's the kicker. I've been working on loving God properly and so sometimes I'm in a better place and really wanting His love, trying to fathom it, trying to understand the depth of it, and on the verge of grasping a small speck of it's grandeur, it's wildness, how it makes any human love I know look "like milk and water." And in those times (and really all the time) I just realize how I can't grasp it, full feel it, and ultimately, can't have as much God as I want. I drink Him in, feel His presence, but it's never enough. I can't get enough of it here on earth. Of course, this is no shock, but it's frustrating. God wants to be in my life so much but I can't have as much of Him as I'd like, I still feel distant. As I said to my friend, sometimes my relationship with God feels like a long distance relationship. "There's a reason," I said, "why people won't do long distance relationships. Because they're already in one with God, they can't deal with another one." Now, I know he's right here and present all the time, but his presence is like a phone call, sometimes maybe like Skype. You're talking to him, you can hear Him, even feel him, but his presence is never going to be as strong as it could be, say, if you saw Him in person.
I have a lot of frustrations, I know the answer to these is to turn to God, pray, lay my burdens down, put Him first, rest in His love, but when I do that, I just realize how much of Him I don't have present. I'm thankful for God being present in my life at all, don't get me wrong. But, knowing how big God is, even thinking how his pure presence would feel, I can't help but desire it so strongly. Normally I'd end on some positive up-beat note about how I was in a bad place but came to some heart warming realization. This is sort of an exception.
I'm not going to say how lovely everything is because the reality is, I just miss God (and I know He misses me too) and I'm sick of this long distance relationship.
I told a friend of mine about how once I wanted to do something drastic, probably sinful, just so God would take me back, so I'd feel his presence especially heightened as I have in the past. Of course I wouldn't, but I desired to feel God's strong presence so much that I thought about it. "You're sick," he said. I started to argue but instead replied, "Yes, yes I am. I'm sick because I'm separated from him and I'm not going to be well until I see His face." And my typically argumentative friend clinked his glass against mine.
I feel as though most of my life involves me shouldering burdens- wherever I am. At home, at work, with family, with friends. I ask God why I have to carry so much. Of course, he replies, in the voice of my old Gospel choir director, "you've gotta lay your burdens down, child. And you know you'll feel betta, so much betta, if you lay 'em down." But I still think of my future, the end of my 70 weeks and I just see more challenges, more burdens.
I feel distant from God, a large portion of which I am at fault for. I find myself spending so much time talking about God, talking with fellow Christians, surrounding myself with Christian ideas that I forget to talk to God and have an actual relationship with him. It's like talking to all your friends in relationships about your relationship and reading advice books on relationship but then never spending anytime with your significant other. It doesn't work.
But I also feel as though I'm just so distant from His will, off from where he wants me in my daily life. Not in the big things, just in all my millions of small actions, in my thought process. I'm distant in that I put things before Him in value, want more things than His love.
Yet, here's the kicker. I've been working on loving God properly and so sometimes I'm in a better place and really wanting His love, trying to fathom it, trying to understand the depth of it, and on the verge of grasping a small speck of it's grandeur, it's wildness, how it makes any human love I know look "like milk and water." And in those times (and really all the time) I just realize how I can't grasp it, full feel it, and ultimately, can't have as much God as I want. I drink Him in, feel His presence, but it's never enough. I can't get enough of it here on earth. Of course, this is no shock, but it's frustrating. God wants to be in my life so much but I can't have as much of Him as I'd like, I still feel distant. As I said to my friend, sometimes my relationship with God feels like a long distance relationship. "There's a reason," I said, "why people won't do long distance relationships. Because they're already in one with God, they can't deal with another one." Now, I know he's right here and present all the time, but his presence is like a phone call, sometimes maybe like Skype. You're talking to him, you can hear Him, even feel him, but his presence is never going to be as strong as it could be, say, if you saw Him in person.
I have a lot of frustrations, I know the answer to these is to turn to God, pray, lay my burdens down, put Him first, rest in His love, but when I do that, I just realize how much of Him I don't have present. I'm thankful for God being present in my life at all, don't get me wrong. But, knowing how big God is, even thinking how his pure presence would feel, I can't help but desire it so strongly. Normally I'd end on some positive up-beat note about how I was in a bad place but came to some heart warming realization. This is sort of an exception.
I'm not going to say how lovely everything is because the reality is, I just miss God (and I know He misses me too) and I'm sick of this long distance relationship.
I told a friend of mine about how once I wanted to do something drastic, probably sinful, just so God would take me back, so I'd feel his presence especially heightened as I have in the past. Of course I wouldn't, but I desired to feel God's strong presence so much that I thought about it. "You're sick," he said. I started to argue but instead replied, "Yes, yes I am. I'm sick because I'm separated from him and I'm not going to be well until I see His face." And my typically argumentative friend clinked his glass against mine.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Week 33: Sun, how do you do it all the time?
So here I am, week 33- nearly halfway through my 70 weeks- writing from back home in the Midwest (“Home.” I don’t know what that word means. But more on that later). Weeks when I’m home are very impactual in this project in prayer because they are often very clarifying, meaningful, soul-shocking, painful, beautiful, beautifully painful, painfully beautiful. God often gives me some answers and revelations about the next phase of my life. I think weeks home are so meaningful because as I’ve said before, I feel called back here. So going home I pray and think and feel my way around, feeling the place out again as if, by leaving the state for a while, someone has turned the lights off and I need to feel my way around to know what my house is like and how to move from room to room. And so, I go about feeling about the Midwest- trying it on to see if it still fits. Maybe I gained some emotional or personality-based weight out on the East Coast and I can’t fit into the Midwest anymore. More like, maybe I lost a few pounds of soul or made myself thinner to fit between the thin trees, slide through the New England forests and now the wide open Midwestern fields will feel too big and baggy on me. Maybe I’ll have lost something or gained something and just look ridiculous here to the people I know and love. So every time I go home I look around, pray, see if this truly is the place I’m called to go. Which doesn’t necessarily mean that I love it or that I fit in it, interestingly enough. But those two things would be helpful or at least, make things easier even though I’d do without them if I were asked to.
Going home- I never know what that means. I call the place where I usually sleep “home.” I called my dorm room home, I call my apartment home- and yet when I say I’m “going home” for vacation, everyone knows I mean the Chicago Suburb where I grew up. In a way, my apartment out east is more home than my Chicago home but the East Coast is not my home- the Midwest is more my home. Really, I don’t know if there will be a place (this side of eternity and short of heaven) that will truly feel like home. But I do desperately want to find a place on this earth that I can call home moreso than I can call any place home now. I want to find somewhere where I’m supposed to be and supposed to stay for a while. Maybe that place is a location, a place of work, a person- maybe a combination (which would be nice), although I often fear I may never have any of those things in a way where one feels like my “home.” In a way, where I work now is more home than anything else- a place where I feel close and connected with all my students and co-workers and where I spend so much time- I even sleep there every once in a great while. Aside from a home with God- I don’t know what “home” means but I think whenever I go “home” to Chicago as of late, I find myself looking for a home in it. Looking for a home your own home- the place where you grow up. Heh. What a sorrowfully interesting notion.
So anyway, I went on another trip home- looking for home. Needless to say, I started out this trip a little worse for the wear. Tired, snappy, exhausted with my life situations and daily tasks- despite how I love the people in my daily tasks dearly and would do anything for them- time makes things more exasperating, pushes us to our breaking points. I came “home” to a horrific mess, rooms full of remnants of dead relatives and all the messes I had left here just by living the past 24 years, to a mother so broken down by illness I barely recognized her, and thus a future of painful decisions and situations- and thus a lot of decisions about my future made for me- unfolding before my eyes. I thought of all the things I want in life for myself that I fear I’ll never have and had the pain of losses of intimacy with others as times and friendships change hanging over my head. And all along, I think, “I’m called back here?! I don’t know if I can do it.” Sometimes thinking that terrible and ridiculous thought, “when am I going to live for me?” to which the answer in my heart of hearts is always, “never. I’ll always be living for God- who will give me more than I could ever ask for or attempt to gain in ‘living for me’ and even if He didn’t, He’s already done more than enough for me to owe him my lifetime- even though because He is so good, I owe nothing and could never pay Him back if I tried anyway. But that whole interestingly circular set of debt and forgiveness and love, if you understand it well enough, makes it impossible not to give your life out of love and gratitude to God.
But I digress, I came here broken and somewhat hopeless in a few respects. I prayed for strength and clarity- that God keep me strong in all I had to do on this trip- confronting the situations with my mother, situations with my friends, and sins in my own life- making sure that an idol has not returned to my heart.
And I found myself on an open road underneath the big Midwestern sky- I could see so far, much further than New England forests allow. The tall grasses were waving to me in the sun and I could see the ground, although everything glimmered as if covered in glass as the ice that coated everything shone in the sun. My favorite Christian radio station that I haven’t listened to in months played songs that I associate with so many good memories from when I student taught in the public schools back in Wisconsin, and I couldn’t help but smile. I felt free- free from the burdens of my sin for God was with me, reminding me how he’d forgiven them all and even brought me up so I could keep myself from committing them further. Free from winter’s weight- the sun was shining, I didn’t need my heavy coat. Free from feeling enclosed- the wide open road, the wide open spaces, the light was just right and there were not trees or clouds to hide me from it. There is nowhere to hide from the light of God in a wide open field. The Midwest still fit- still felt like home- I don’t know what that is- but I think if anything feels like it, it’s someplace beneath the Midwestern skies.
God rode with me, was so present- in the sunshine, the open fields, in old pictures of my family, in an old journal my grandmother wrote on her road trip to California when she, like me, was 24. In her incredibly poetic words about how her experiences with nature convicted her that there was a God. In all the things about my mother and Grandmother that I see in myself, in my close friendships stay strong no matter the time or distance, in the poetic words and stories of my friends and family, in the precious conversations I have with my mother, in the softness of my 11 year old puppy’s fur.
God, life is just so beautiful even when it seems it’s at its darkest. And I’m not taking the Lord’s name in vain there.
I often see the beauty in the world, but today I could see just how clearly all of it- ALL of it- not just the nature part (which is easier to see than the human/relationship part sometimes) was God.
I came here from a world still pretty much frozen in white and found despite the huge snow storms here, the snow had thawed thoroughly and I could see the ground. I even flew out of an overcast snow covered Boston and, even though I landed in a dreary overcast Chicago, for a few blissful hours, I took a nap in the sunshine. I had a whole row of seats to myself in the back of the plane and laid down on my back, letting the sun stream in through the window. High above the clouds that keep me from His light, I was flying now in it. Listening to a folk artist I’ve recently fallen in love with named Daisy May as she sang,
“Oh sun,
how do you do it all the time?
You take the weight off me,
take it on and you still shine.
Oh, when it rains and all the greys
come over me,
I know you remain the same
even though I cannot see you, Sun.
So do you think you could
shine a little bit for me today,
oh if you’ve got time while you’re ridin’ along
that big old skyway,
Do you think you could
shine a little bit more so I can see
and maybe someday sun, oh you’ll see me.
Oh Sun,
How do you do it all the time?
Keepin’ me warm
When I’m cold, as cold as ice.
Oh, even in the night
You still shine
When it snows and everything blows
Out the door
Oh, I know you’ll stay the same forever more
For you are the sun…”
I like to think of the sun as The Son. And I think Daisy may mean that, too. And oh, Son, I don’t know how you do it all the time because when I try I just grow weary, and cold as ice. But You keep me warm, You restore my soul, so would you shine a little bit more for me today?
Going home- I never know what that means. I call the place where I usually sleep “home.” I called my dorm room home, I call my apartment home- and yet when I say I’m “going home” for vacation, everyone knows I mean the Chicago Suburb where I grew up. In a way, my apartment out east is more home than my Chicago home but the East Coast is not my home- the Midwest is more my home. Really, I don’t know if there will be a place (this side of eternity and short of heaven) that will truly feel like home. But I do desperately want to find a place on this earth that I can call home moreso than I can call any place home now. I want to find somewhere where I’m supposed to be and supposed to stay for a while. Maybe that place is a location, a place of work, a person- maybe a combination (which would be nice), although I often fear I may never have any of those things in a way where one feels like my “home.” In a way, where I work now is more home than anything else- a place where I feel close and connected with all my students and co-workers and where I spend so much time- I even sleep there every once in a great while. Aside from a home with God- I don’t know what “home” means but I think whenever I go “home” to Chicago as of late, I find myself looking for a home in it. Looking for a home your own home- the place where you grow up. Heh. What a sorrowfully interesting notion.
So anyway, I went on another trip home- looking for home. Needless to say, I started out this trip a little worse for the wear. Tired, snappy, exhausted with my life situations and daily tasks- despite how I love the people in my daily tasks dearly and would do anything for them- time makes things more exasperating, pushes us to our breaking points. I came “home” to a horrific mess, rooms full of remnants of dead relatives and all the messes I had left here just by living the past 24 years, to a mother so broken down by illness I barely recognized her, and thus a future of painful decisions and situations- and thus a lot of decisions about my future made for me- unfolding before my eyes. I thought of all the things I want in life for myself that I fear I’ll never have and had the pain of losses of intimacy with others as times and friendships change hanging over my head. And all along, I think, “I’m called back here?! I don’t know if I can do it.” Sometimes thinking that terrible and ridiculous thought, “when am I going to live for me?” to which the answer in my heart of hearts is always, “never. I’ll always be living for God- who will give me more than I could ever ask for or attempt to gain in ‘living for me’ and even if He didn’t, He’s already done more than enough for me to owe him my lifetime- even though because He is so good, I owe nothing and could never pay Him back if I tried anyway. But that whole interestingly circular set of debt and forgiveness and love, if you understand it well enough, makes it impossible not to give your life out of love and gratitude to God.
But I digress, I came here broken and somewhat hopeless in a few respects. I prayed for strength and clarity- that God keep me strong in all I had to do on this trip- confronting the situations with my mother, situations with my friends, and sins in my own life- making sure that an idol has not returned to my heart.
And I found myself on an open road underneath the big Midwestern sky- I could see so far, much further than New England forests allow. The tall grasses were waving to me in the sun and I could see the ground, although everything glimmered as if covered in glass as the ice that coated everything shone in the sun. My favorite Christian radio station that I haven’t listened to in months played songs that I associate with so many good memories from when I student taught in the public schools back in Wisconsin, and I couldn’t help but smile. I felt free- free from the burdens of my sin for God was with me, reminding me how he’d forgiven them all and even brought me up so I could keep myself from committing them further. Free from winter’s weight- the sun was shining, I didn’t need my heavy coat. Free from feeling enclosed- the wide open road, the wide open spaces, the light was just right and there were not trees or clouds to hide me from it. There is nowhere to hide from the light of God in a wide open field. The Midwest still fit- still felt like home- I don’t know what that is- but I think if anything feels like it, it’s someplace beneath the Midwestern skies.
God rode with me, was so present- in the sunshine, the open fields, in old pictures of my family, in an old journal my grandmother wrote on her road trip to California when she, like me, was 24. In her incredibly poetic words about how her experiences with nature convicted her that there was a God. In all the things about my mother and Grandmother that I see in myself, in my close friendships stay strong no matter the time or distance, in the poetic words and stories of my friends and family, in the precious conversations I have with my mother, in the softness of my 11 year old puppy’s fur.
God, life is just so beautiful even when it seems it’s at its darkest. And I’m not taking the Lord’s name in vain there.
I often see the beauty in the world, but today I could see just how clearly all of it- ALL of it- not just the nature part (which is easier to see than the human/relationship part sometimes) was God.
I came here from a world still pretty much frozen in white and found despite the huge snow storms here, the snow had thawed thoroughly and I could see the ground. I even flew out of an overcast snow covered Boston and, even though I landed in a dreary overcast Chicago, for a few blissful hours, I took a nap in the sunshine. I had a whole row of seats to myself in the back of the plane and laid down on my back, letting the sun stream in through the window. High above the clouds that keep me from His light, I was flying now in it. Listening to a folk artist I’ve recently fallen in love with named Daisy May as she sang,
“Oh sun,
how do you do it all the time?
You take the weight off me,
take it on and you still shine.
Oh, when it rains and all the greys
come over me,
I know you remain the same
even though I cannot see you, Sun.
So do you think you could
shine a little bit for me today,
oh if you’ve got time while you’re ridin’ along
that big old skyway,
Do you think you could
shine a little bit more so I can see
and maybe someday sun, oh you’ll see me.
Oh Sun,
How do you do it all the time?
Keepin’ me warm
When I’m cold, as cold as ice.
Oh, even in the night
You still shine
When it snows and everything blows
Out the door
Oh, I know you’ll stay the same forever more
For you are the sun…”
I like to think of the sun as The Son. And I think Daisy may mean that, too. And oh, Son, I don’t know how you do it all the time because when I try I just grow weary, and cold as ice. But You keep me warm, You restore my soul, so would you shine a little bit more for me today?
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Week 32: Happy Anniversary
My birthday is always a very poetic, metaphorical, and philosophical for me. I'm very thoughtful, pondering my life, my relationship with God and with others in my life, what I've accomplished, what I'm meant to accomplish, and who I'm supposed to be. Things also always seem to fall perfectly into place in a way that the events of my birthday always seem to lay out in a perfect representation or celebration of my life. And, maybe it's my imagination, but even nature/outside just seems to decorate itself- everything seems to greet me as a familiar friend- everything around me on my birthday seems to say, "I'm glad you were born." And thus, I can't help but feel the strong presence and love of God on my birthday. In fact, I think I look forward to my birthday primarily because I know I'll feel God's presence, feel a stronger sense of His purpose for me, and just have a better understanding of his unending love for me in a way that I don't normally comprehend the other days of the year.
This year, was no exception to all of that. It Began at midnight while I played Switchfoot's "Always"- one of my favorites to listen to around my birthday. At 11:59 the song began, "This is the start, this is your heart, this is the day you were born. This is the sun, these are your lungs, this is the day you were born." and just as the word 'born' ended, the clock struck 12 am and it was indeed, the day I was born.
I awoke early in the low pre-dawn light. Laying in my bed drowsily, I saw the moon, beautiful and nearly full out my window hanging in the light blue sky and I just felt God' presence because it felt as though He had placed that moon there just for me. Work was full of blessings- my students make me laugh and love. From spraying me with water and yelling, "beach party!" to singing happy birthday in the best/most fun way possible (a happy birthday song from my students is the best happy birthday song you're going to get). I left work to a blustery February night with a bright sapphire blue sky studded by stars, outlined by rickety skeletons of trees scratching the surface of the night sky. It reminded me of the episode of "sex and the city" where it's Carrie's birthday and she realizes how much she appreciates her best friends- how important her friends are in her life despite the fact that she's another year older and she looks up at the moon and the rickety bare trees by her apartment and she lets her balloons float into the sky. I feel like today was all like that- just appreciating what I have in my life and not being angry or sad about what I don't have. I just spent the day realizing how blessed I was. I went out to dinner with a good mix of friends and was so touched that some of my friends made an effort to come out all this way to see me and to spend time with me even though not all of them knew each other. For coming out here only a year and a half ago, I sure am incredibly lucky to have found so many great groups of friends here.
I drove home, beneath the starlight, the moon large and mystical looking through the trees, listening to the wind rush past my car, catching glimpses of the lantern lights of the stores on top of the dark hills. And like every birthday, I spent some quality time with God, just reveling in his presence and love. I did not dwell, as I often do, on my failings- how I fail to be who God wants me to be in daily activities. Instead, I just felt His pure, forgiving love for me. And I realized something: what I really have been celebrating on my birthday these past few years when I philosophize, think about my life/relationship with God and just enjoy the fact that He gave me another year on earth is my anniversary with God. It really seems to fit the nature of what goes on in my head/heart/spiritual life on my birthday.
While God's love is eternal and thus has no beginning and no end, the day that I was born was the beginning of that love being made obvious (or even "official") to the world because it was then that I began to exist and His love for me could be pinned to a love He had for an actual tangible human form. It was also the beginning of when I began to experience His love. So, today I celebrated my 24th anniversary with God. I spent most of it appreciating and living out His love in all the forms it comes in and in the end, I went home to Him, spent quiet time with Him, and just let His love wash over me. I feel so much peace, reaffirmed in what I'm meant for and that God really is working in my life, carrying out a plan, and leading me where He wants me. And who knows, next year when I celebrate my next "anniversary" I'll have an idea of what I'm doing in the next phase of my life and two years from today, I'll be living that next phase. How time flies. But, I have faith, as I always do on my birthday, that God is leading me towards all the good I need in my life and towards all the places He wants me.
Thus, it was another happy birthday- really, a happy anniversary- a celebration of 24 years of a life together with God.
This year, was no exception to all of that. It Began at midnight while I played Switchfoot's "Always"- one of my favorites to listen to around my birthday. At 11:59 the song began, "This is the start, this is your heart, this is the day you were born. This is the sun, these are your lungs, this is the day you were born." and just as the word 'born' ended, the clock struck 12 am and it was indeed, the day I was born.
I awoke early in the low pre-dawn light. Laying in my bed drowsily, I saw the moon, beautiful and nearly full out my window hanging in the light blue sky and I just felt God' presence because it felt as though He had placed that moon there just for me. Work was full of blessings- my students make me laugh and love. From spraying me with water and yelling, "beach party!" to singing happy birthday in the best/most fun way possible (a happy birthday song from my students is the best happy birthday song you're going to get). I left work to a blustery February night with a bright sapphire blue sky studded by stars, outlined by rickety skeletons of trees scratching the surface of the night sky. It reminded me of the episode of "sex and the city" where it's Carrie's birthday and she realizes how much she appreciates her best friends- how important her friends are in her life despite the fact that she's another year older and she looks up at the moon and the rickety bare trees by her apartment and she lets her balloons float into the sky. I feel like today was all like that- just appreciating what I have in my life and not being angry or sad about what I don't have. I just spent the day realizing how blessed I was. I went out to dinner with a good mix of friends and was so touched that some of my friends made an effort to come out all this way to see me and to spend time with me even though not all of them knew each other. For coming out here only a year and a half ago, I sure am incredibly lucky to have found so many great groups of friends here.
I drove home, beneath the starlight, the moon large and mystical looking through the trees, listening to the wind rush past my car, catching glimpses of the lantern lights of the stores on top of the dark hills. And like every birthday, I spent some quality time with God, just reveling in his presence and love. I did not dwell, as I often do, on my failings- how I fail to be who God wants me to be in daily activities. Instead, I just felt His pure, forgiving love for me. And I realized something: what I really have been celebrating on my birthday these past few years when I philosophize, think about my life/relationship with God and just enjoy the fact that He gave me another year on earth is my anniversary with God. It really seems to fit the nature of what goes on in my head/heart/spiritual life on my birthday.
While God's love is eternal and thus has no beginning and no end, the day that I was born was the beginning of that love being made obvious (or even "official") to the world because it was then that I began to exist and His love for me could be pinned to a love He had for an actual tangible human form. It was also the beginning of when I began to experience His love. So, today I celebrated my 24th anniversary with God. I spent most of it appreciating and living out His love in all the forms it comes in and in the end, I went home to Him, spent quiet time with Him, and just let His love wash over me. I feel so much peace, reaffirmed in what I'm meant for and that God really is working in my life, carrying out a plan, and leading me where He wants me. And who knows, next year when I celebrate my next "anniversary" I'll have an idea of what I'm doing in the next phase of my life and two years from today, I'll be living that next phase. How time flies. But, I have faith, as I always do on my birthday, that God is leading me towards all the good I need in my life and towards all the places He wants me.
Thus, it was another happy birthday- really, a happy anniversary- a celebration of 24 years of a life together with God.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Week 31: Blah, Blah, Blah... Love and Sunshine!
I've had a lot of miscellaneous ideas floating around my head this week, I've had some revelations about my life, and it's Valentines Day, so the possibilities of a post are endless. I was going to talk about idolatry, and "peace/love worshipers," there were all kinds of complicated theological ideas I thought about delving into. I could go into the complexities of Love and His love for us and how our love on earth relates to His love for us, etc. I could go into how I'm aware of how transient everything is, how good it feels for things to be stripped away, etc. All of these would inevitably lead to discussing my failings in areas of idolatry, sacrifice, and love, etc. and how I need to work on them and change them. Blah, blah, blah. These are all very important, but I talk about this all the time- I write to you about these things all the time, I'm in my head, using so many words all the time, over-thinking the world around me. And mostly, I like it that way, I work, well that way. I sat at my computer in my sunlit living room typing up some lengthy preachy post on idolatry and then I just got sick of it. So I'll write to you about what I did instead of writing you a preachy post.
I put on some subtly Christian folk music, opened up my balcony door, and stood on the threshold in my T-shirt and bare feet and let the sun fall on my free, bare arms. Let the cold February air come in and contrast with the warm light. I just stood there in the doorway, closing my eyes. I let the sunlight come in through my eyes and just saw the warm flesh tone of my eyelids- I could see the sun through them, it was so bright. Everything was melting, warming, the sky was bright, clouds were scattered, the snow still white and bright- but no longer suffocating. Life and freedom was in the air and God was just so present. He was right there and his love was all around me- outside me, and within me, within my memory as so many blessings in my life, cards, notes, funny anecdotes I had received from loved ones- flooded over me.
I felt the wind caress my face, brush back my hair. Ever since I was a child I always went outside to feel the wind on my face- I always felt like it was the closest I could get to God- like His hand was caressing me softly. When I felt scared or sad or lonely or just needed God, I would go out on my balcony or stick my head out the window just to feel the wind. I still remember a terrible night my freshman year of college where I went to the window, seeking redemption, answers, God's presence. I wanted it so desperately I stood by the window and I remember my dismay, how tragic it seemed when I could not feel the wind.
But none of that was here today- God was here and it felt so good. I stretched my arms up, held my palms out as if to take in all the light I could into my being. And I realized, no matter what I don't have, no matter what the future holds, I have all I need and I am genuinely happy. Today, God was my valentine. And here's the thing about God: He's the best a girl could hope for. He knows everything about you, knows you better than you could know yourself, has known you all your life, and he loves you exactly as you are, and he gave you a gift this Valentine's day: He gave you today.
I put on some subtly Christian folk music, opened up my balcony door, and stood on the threshold in my T-shirt and bare feet and let the sun fall on my free, bare arms. Let the cold February air come in and contrast with the warm light. I just stood there in the doorway, closing my eyes. I let the sunlight come in through my eyes and just saw the warm flesh tone of my eyelids- I could see the sun through them, it was so bright. Everything was melting, warming, the sky was bright, clouds were scattered, the snow still white and bright- but no longer suffocating. Life and freedom was in the air and God was just so present. He was right there and his love was all around me- outside me, and within me, within my memory as so many blessings in my life, cards, notes, funny anecdotes I had received from loved ones- flooded over me.
I felt the wind caress my face, brush back my hair. Ever since I was a child I always went outside to feel the wind on my face- I always felt like it was the closest I could get to God- like His hand was caressing me softly. When I felt scared or sad or lonely or just needed God, I would go out on my balcony or stick my head out the window just to feel the wind. I still remember a terrible night my freshman year of college where I went to the window, seeking redemption, answers, God's presence. I wanted it so desperately I stood by the window and I remember my dismay, how tragic it seemed when I could not feel the wind.
But none of that was here today- God was here and it felt so good. I stretched my arms up, held my palms out as if to take in all the light I could into my being. And I realized, no matter what I don't have, no matter what the future holds, I have all I need and I am genuinely happy. Today, God was my valentine. And here's the thing about God: He's the best a girl could hope for. He knows everything about you, knows you better than you could know yourself, has known you all your life, and he loves you exactly as you are, and he gave you a gift this Valentine's day: He gave you today.
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