...from Under the Overpasses, one of my favorite blogs right now:
"I was married to fundamentalism until I cheated. I had an affair with God and everything changed."
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The stuff that matters...
Okay, so I'm excited about the prospect of the Cubs winning a World Series Championship for the first time in 100 years. BUT. It's. only. baseball.
I posted the song in the previous post, then started catching up on some blogs that I read regularly. Two of them, "Under the Overpasses" and "Today at the Mission" are written by guys who serve broken, hurting, marginalized people at two different homeless shelters. They break my heart. They re-center me. They remind me that we (and that would be a big, fat "me included"), as the hands and feet of Jesus are, for the most part, doing a piss-poor job of being those hands and feet. Unless it's easy. Unless it's convenient. Unless we (gasp!) can keep ourselves clean while we serve (we don't really have to touch them, do we?) Unless it fits into our 2 hours of scheduled "charity" service on the third Saturday of each month.
Hugh Hollowell lives among "those" people in Raleigh, NC. He blogs here. You should read him. And, if you don't read him there, read him right here. I'm quoting this post in its entirety because it should be read. He speaks truth. And it's not "truth" just because I agree with it. I agree with it and, in the agreement, I acknowledge my own ugliness--my lack of mercy, my failure to feed the hungry, my refusal to love wholeheartedly because that demands more than I'm sometimes willing to give. I digress. Just read it.
"The Death of Evelyn and the Failure of the Church"
A heavy girl, perhaps 250 pounds, Evelyn’s greasy, stringy hair only served to accentuate her poor skin. Her weight made her shuffle rather than walk and her head was always bowed, seeking not to offend, avoiding eye contact. At 23, most people her age are very conscious of their appearance, but Evelyn’s wardrobe consisted of thrift store finds and cast offs, leaning heavily toward stretch pants and sweatshirts that advertised events she had never seen and places she would never visit.
It was my second month in Raleigh. I was volunteering with a group that fed the homeless in the park on Sunday when I met her for the first time. She shuffled through the line, mumbling thanks for the watery mashed potatoes and chili-mac, eyes on the ground. Several times I tried to engage her, but between my maleness and her demons, it just was not happening. Like a dog that had been struck once too often, she flinched at contact, muttering secrets only she knew to people only she saw.
When there was an open bed, Evelyn would stay at the woman’s shelter, but more often then not she had to make other arrangements. On cold nights, she would trade sexual favors in exchange for a warm bed. To pick up spending money, she would give men oral sex for $5. Because of her weight and mental issues, often the promise of a warm bed was revoked, or the money not paid after the oral sex had been given. Several people later told me Evelyn was often sexually assaulted and raped, unable to resist her attackers.
The last time I saw her was on a Thursday in early November. I remember it was inordinately cold that day, with a sharp, piercing wind.. Evelyn shuffled down the sidewalk, huddled down into her jacket, oblivious to my wave, ignoring me when I called.
That night Evelyn made it into the women’s shelter. In here she could sleep, secure in the knowledge she was safe. In the night Evelyn died of complications from sleep apnea. At age 23, she was another statistic of life, and death, on the streets.
* * * *
I told Evelyn’s story in a church once, and when I was finished they prayed fervent prayers that Evelyn would be at peace in the loving arms of Jesus. They prayed that those who would injure and molest women like Evelyn would be caught and punished. They prayed for God’s kingdom to come and for shalom to rest on our city.
At the end of the talk, a lady came up to me, obviously moved by my story and asked me the question I dread most: “How could God have allowed this to happen to Evelyn? Was this all part of God’s plan?”
If you spend much time working in the inner-city, you try not to ask yourself those kind of questions–not because you don’t know what the answer is, but because you do. Because if you think about it too much you get mad and because if you tell people the answer, you will not be invited back.
What I wanted to tell that lady, but did not, was God did have a plan to take care of Evelyn; God’s plan was us. God’s plan was to put us here to be his hands and feet. We are to show mercy, to love justice. We are to show mercy, as he is merciful. We are to feed those who are hungry, with the assurance that when we do, we are doing it to, and not just for, Jesus himself.
I wanted to tell that lady God did have a plan and we screwed it up. I wanted to tell her that it is not we who are waiting on God, but rather God who is waiting on us and that what Evelyn really had needed was not this lady’s prayers but a safe place to sleep at night. What I wanted to tell that lady, but didn’t, is that it is very obvious that we have the resources to help invisible people just like Evelyn but we simply lack the will to do so.
I did not tell that church lady any of that. But often I wish I had.
I posted the song in the previous post, then started catching up on some blogs that I read regularly. Two of them, "Under the Overpasses" and "Today at the Mission" are written by guys who serve broken, hurting, marginalized people at two different homeless shelters. They break my heart. They re-center me. They remind me that we (and that would be a big, fat "me included"), as the hands and feet of Jesus are, for the most part, doing a piss-poor job of being those hands and feet. Unless it's easy. Unless it's convenient. Unless we (gasp!) can keep ourselves clean while we serve (we don't really have to touch them, do we?) Unless it fits into our 2 hours of scheduled "charity" service on the third Saturday of each month.
Hugh Hollowell lives among "those" people in Raleigh, NC. He blogs here. You should read him. And, if you don't read him there, read him right here. I'm quoting this post in its entirety because it should be read. He speaks truth. And it's not "truth" just because I agree with it. I agree with it and, in the agreement, I acknowledge my own ugliness--my lack of mercy, my failure to feed the hungry, my refusal to love wholeheartedly because that demands more than I'm sometimes willing to give. I digress. Just read it.
"The Death of Evelyn and the Failure of the Church"
A heavy girl, perhaps 250 pounds, Evelyn’s greasy, stringy hair only served to accentuate her poor skin. Her weight made her shuffle rather than walk and her head was always bowed, seeking not to offend, avoiding eye contact. At 23, most people her age are very conscious of their appearance, but Evelyn’s wardrobe consisted of thrift store finds and cast offs, leaning heavily toward stretch pants and sweatshirts that advertised events she had never seen and places she would never visit.
It was my second month in Raleigh. I was volunteering with a group that fed the homeless in the park on Sunday when I met her for the first time. She shuffled through the line, mumbling thanks for the watery mashed potatoes and chili-mac, eyes on the ground. Several times I tried to engage her, but between my maleness and her demons, it just was not happening. Like a dog that had been struck once too often, she flinched at contact, muttering secrets only she knew to people only she saw.
When there was an open bed, Evelyn would stay at the woman’s shelter, but more often then not she had to make other arrangements. On cold nights, she would trade sexual favors in exchange for a warm bed. To pick up spending money, she would give men oral sex for $5. Because of her weight and mental issues, often the promise of a warm bed was revoked, or the money not paid after the oral sex had been given. Several people later told me Evelyn was often sexually assaulted and raped, unable to resist her attackers.
The last time I saw her was on a Thursday in early November. I remember it was inordinately cold that day, with a sharp, piercing wind.. Evelyn shuffled down the sidewalk, huddled down into her jacket, oblivious to my wave, ignoring me when I called.
That night Evelyn made it into the women’s shelter. In here she could sleep, secure in the knowledge she was safe. In the night Evelyn died of complications from sleep apnea. At age 23, she was another statistic of life, and death, on the streets.
* * * *
I told Evelyn’s story in a church once, and when I was finished they prayed fervent prayers that Evelyn would be at peace in the loving arms of Jesus. They prayed that those who would injure and molest women like Evelyn would be caught and punished. They prayed for God’s kingdom to come and for shalom to rest on our city.
At the end of the talk, a lady came up to me, obviously moved by my story and asked me the question I dread most: “How could God have allowed this to happen to Evelyn? Was this all part of God’s plan?”
If you spend much time working in the inner-city, you try not to ask yourself those kind of questions–not because you don’t know what the answer is, but because you do. Because if you think about it too much you get mad and because if you tell people the answer, you will not be invited back.
What I wanted to tell that lady, but did not, was God did have a plan to take care of Evelyn; God’s plan was us. God’s plan was to put us here to be his hands and feet. We are to show mercy, to love justice. We are to show mercy, as he is merciful. We are to feed those who are hungry, with the assurance that when we do, we are doing it to, and not just for, Jesus himself.
I wanted to tell that lady God did have a plan and we screwed it up. I wanted to tell her that it is not we who are waiting on God, but rather God who is waiting on us and that what Evelyn really had needed was not this lady’s prayers but a safe place to sleep at night. What I wanted to tell that lady, but didn’t, is that it is very obvious that we have the resources to help invisible people just like Evelyn but we simply lack the will to do so.
I did not tell that church lady any of that. But often I wish I had.
Monday, September 22, 2008
If you've not heard the news...
...the Cubs clinched the division title Saturday!! :-)
Yay for us. One step closer to THE dream. I don't get too excited about much in sports, but this excites me. I've been a Cubs fan since I was in college (I have a Ryne Sandberg jersey that I am PROUD to wear). As Cubs fans, we are eternally optimistic, always hopeful, always looking forward to that season when we play well after the All-Star break.
This year, they've been not only their division leader for most of the season (honestly, I'm not sure there was a time when they weren't, unless it was very early in the season), they also have the best record in all of the National League and, for a large chunk of the season, had the best record in all of MLB.
Every year, I tell all my Cardinal friends that this is our year...and every year, I eat my words at some point in the season--usually much earlier than this. But. This COULD actually the year. It's not just wishful thinking and a little bit of good ball-playing this year. This team is solid. Good. They could actually do it. Break the so-called "curse". End a century of dashed hopes. (Yes, it really has been 100 years since the last World Series victory for the Cubs.) It's time!!
I. AM. EXCITED.
Yay for us. One step closer to THE dream. I don't get too excited about much in sports, but this excites me. I've been a Cubs fan since I was in college (I have a Ryne Sandberg jersey that I am PROUD to wear). As Cubs fans, we are eternally optimistic, always hopeful, always looking forward to that season when we play well after the All-Star break.
This year, they've been not only their division leader for most of the season (honestly, I'm not sure there was a time when they weren't, unless it was very early in the season), they also have the best record in all of the National League and, for a large chunk of the season, had the best record in all of MLB.
Every year, I tell all my Cardinal friends that this is our year...and every year, I eat my words at some point in the season--usually much earlier than this. But. This COULD actually the year. It's not just wishful thinking and a little bit of good ball-playing this year. This team is solid. Good. They could actually do it. Break the so-called "curse". End a century of dashed hopes. (Yes, it really has been 100 years since the last World Series victory for the Cubs.) It's time!!
I. AM. EXCITED.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Order...
...what a beautiful thing.
I spent a large part of today entirely gutting my closet and dresser drawers. I always dread the task, but once it's done, I'm supremely glad I've done it.
I instituted a new "life rule" earlier this year--I decided that if I hadn't worn something for a year, unless I had a really good reason, it was going O-U-T. The 14 Rubbermaid RoughTotes on my porch, filled with clothes I'll never wear again but held onto for years, are testament to the reason for the rule.
So. I was tough. I have tees in every shade of the rainbow (thanks to Kohl's) and they look really nice in my closet when they're all in rainbow order like they should be. But. I think I wore maybe 3 of them this summer. Onto the "toss" pile they went. All but 4 of them. (#4 fell into that "good reason" category.) :-)
I threw out shoes I haven't worn in years...and now I have room for the ones I do wear. I kept the snowboots...probably just wishful thinking! Those cute little orange sequined flip-flops...come on. They were cheap, they ARE cute, but they hurt like hell every time I wear them (which has been maybe twice). All that foot surgery didn't do anything to make wearing cheap shoes feel any better. Oh well.
And then I moved on to the dresser. Out went socks and underwear. And more t-shirts. And everything went back into the drawers in my feel-good rainbow order.
My laundry is all done. My sheets are clean. Everything is in order. NOT the way I really like spending my Saturdays (really, I need a housekeeper, if I could just afford it, because I want to play on my day off), but I feel good. Satisfied. Organized. In order (rainbow, that is). Ready to face a chaotic world again.
Maybe I'll tackle the bookshelves tomorrow...
I spent a large part of today entirely gutting my closet and dresser drawers. I always dread the task, but once it's done, I'm supremely glad I've done it.
I instituted a new "life rule" earlier this year--I decided that if I hadn't worn something for a year, unless I had a really good reason, it was going O-U-T. The 14 Rubbermaid RoughTotes on my porch, filled with clothes I'll never wear again but held onto for years, are testament to the reason for the rule.
So. I was tough. I have tees in every shade of the rainbow (thanks to Kohl's) and they look really nice in my closet when they're all in rainbow order like they should be. But. I think I wore maybe 3 of them this summer. Onto the "toss" pile they went. All but 4 of them. (#4 fell into that "good reason" category.) :-)
I threw out shoes I haven't worn in years...and now I have room for the ones I do wear. I kept the snowboots...probably just wishful thinking! Those cute little orange sequined flip-flops...come on. They were cheap, they ARE cute, but they hurt like hell every time I wear them (which has been maybe twice). All that foot surgery didn't do anything to make wearing cheap shoes feel any better. Oh well.
And then I moved on to the dresser. Out went socks and underwear. And more t-shirts. And everything went back into the drawers in my feel-good rainbow order.
My laundry is all done. My sheets are clean. Everything is in order. NOT the way I really like spending my Saturdays (really, I need a housekeeper, if I could just afford it, because I want to play on my day off), but I feel good. Satisfied. Organized. In order (rainbow, that is). Ready to face a chaotic world again.
Maybe I'll tackle the bookshelves tomorrow...
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Montana, Take 2...
Here are some shots from my recent little adventure to Montana/Canada with my mom and my aunt. I'm still mulling over some things, trying to put the words together in some semblance of coherency, but it's just not really happening. So, I'll do the photo thing for now.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
He says my name...
I have a friend who, in the course of every conversation we have, never fails to call me by my name--at least once, usually several times.
We've been friends a long time. We've walked through a lot of tough stuff and heartache together. He knows me...more than just the good stuff, more than just the "surface me"--he knows my shortcomings and stumblings.
And I feel the full weight of that knowledge--and his acceptance of and care for me, even when my attitude is poor and my words are ugly--in the kindness of his tone and in the strength of my name as it rolls off his tongue. He says my name. He knows my heart.
He encourages me, because he's full of character and integrity and honor and God--he exemplifies all those good, godly characteristics...and rarely does he waver.
And when he says my name, it resonates with the strength of those traits and always reminds me that God knows my name and my heart and my shortcomings...and yet He never wavers in his love for me--even when my attitude is poor and my words are ugly.
My friend speaks my name with kindness and caring and knowledge...and that one word echoes back to me the deeper, stronger voice of God.
He says my name. He knows my heart. He loves me.
We've been friends a long time. We've walked through a lot of tough stuff and heartache together. He knows me...more than just the good stuff, more than just the "surface me"--he knows my shortcomings and stumblings.
And I feel the full weight of that knowledge--and his acceptance of and care for me, even when my attitude is poor and my words are ugly--in the kindness of his tone and in the strength of my name as it rolls off his tongue. He says my name. He knows my heart.
He encourages me, because he's full of character and integrity and honor and God--he exemplifies all those good, godly characteristics...and rarely does he waver.
And when he says my name, it resonates with the strength of those traits and always reminds me that God knows my name and my heart and my shortcomings...and yet He never wavers in his love for me--even when my attitude is poor and my words are ugly.
My friend speaks my name with kindness and caring and knowledge...and that one word echoes back to me the deeper, stronger voice of God.
He says my name. He knows my heart. He loves me.
Friday, September 12, 2008
A brief hiatus...
I just got home from a whirlwind trip to Montana on the train--I took my mom and my aunt to Glacier. Two days out on the train (3o+ hours), 3 days there (one in Canada), and 2 days home. I'm tired. Exhausted really. But feeling inspired.
I wrote a blog post on the back of an envelope while I was on the train. As soon as I can get it sorted out and typed, I'll post it.
I just finished reading "Jesus for President". It's lit a fire under me again. Not sure why I always have to be the weirdo who gets inspired by the "out there" stuff (which is not really all that "out there" when held up to the light/life of Jesus, but...).
I have some cool "social justice" project ideas for my church. Can't wait to share them with our pastor...he came straight from a homeless ministry to be our pastor, so he and I are pretty close to being on the same page on a lot of issues. I like that.
I just realized that every paragraph starts with "I"...and I wanted to add one more. ;-)
I wrote a blog post on the back of an envelope while I was on the train. As soon as I can get it sorted out and typed, I'll post it.
I just finished reading "Jesus for President". It's lit a fire under me again. Not sure why I always have to be the weirdo who gets inspired by the "out there" stuff (which is not really all that "out there" when held up to the light/life of Jesus, but...).
I have some cool "social justice" project ideas for my church. Can't wait to share them with our pastor...he came straight from a homeless ministry to be our pastor, so he and I are pretty close to being on the same page on a lot of issues. I like that.
I just realized that every paragraph starts with "I"...and I wanted to add one more. ;-)
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Stupid baseball...
(BIG sigh)
The BEST team in Major League Baseball has now lost 4 games in a row. Fortunately, Milwaukee and St Louis are on the same losing trend. My Cubbies are still in first place, have still won more games than any other MLB team and are still 10 games ahead of their arch-rivals (ha!), the Cardinals, but...
I'm ready for a WIN!! Or, quite a few, actually. This is no way for the future 2008 World Series champs to be acting right now.
Just had to vent... ;-)
The BEST team in Major League Baseball has now lost 4 games in a row. Fortunately, Milwaukee and St Louis are on the same losing trend. My Cubbies are still in first place, have still won more games than any other MLB team and are still 10 games ahead of their arch-rivals (ha!), the Cardinals, but...
I'm ready for a WIN!! Or, quite a few, actually. This is no way for the future 2008 World Series champs to be acting right now.
Just had to vent... ;-)
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Grateful...
...that Gustav is history.
...that Gulfport wasn't hit as hard as was initially predicted.
...that the levees in New Orleans have held so far.
...that people I know were making plans to head to the coast to help if needed.
...that people I DON'T know were doing the same.
...that I saw some very familiar places along Highway 90 on The Weather Channel.
...that I was able to feel "connected" all day, thanks to the wonders of technology.
...that Gulfport wasn't hit as hard as was initially predicted.
...that the levees in New Orleans have held so far.
...that people I know were making plans to head to the coast to help if needed.
...that people I DON'T know were doing the same.
...that I saw some very familiar places along Highway 90 on The Weather Channel.
...that I was able to feel "connected" all day, thanks to the wonders of technology.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Hurricane Gustav update...
New Orleans is now under a mandatory evacuation order. Hotels in the city are being closed; the airport closes at 6 PM tomorrow.
Gustav went from being a tropical storm to a Category 4 hurricane in less than 24 hours. It's expected to become a Category 5, possibly by tomorrow evening. That means winds over 155 miles per hour.
I read a comment from someone who believes this could be worse than Katrina. Not sure what there is to back that up besides fear, but...if it's true, well, I just don't even want to think about it.
Because I still remember miles and miles of this:
Friday, August 29, 2008
Not-so-happy anniversary...
Today is the third anniversary of the day Hurricane Katrina wreaked havoc on the Gulf Coast.
And what are we doing? We're watching Hurricane Gustav bearing down on a shoreline just starting to wear some semblance of "normal".
My dear friend John is taking a group of 30 people back to the Gulfport area in October...to continue the rebuilding process. After three years...
And now, of course, I'm wondering if we're just going to be starting it all over again.
If you're a praying person, this might be a good time to practice.
And what are we doing? We're watching Hurricane Gustav bearing down on a shoreline just starting to wear some semblance of "normal".
My dear friend John is taking a group of 30 people back to the Gulfport area in October...to continue the rebuilding process. After three years...
And now, of course, I'm wondering if we're just going to be starting it all over again.
If you're a praying person, this might be a good time to practice.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
It's PAC-MAN!!!!
Look at the pie. Seriously. I cannot even BEGIN to tell you how much I'm loving this.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Fiery destruction and regrowth...
I know I've been mostly silent since I returned home from Montana...I've been thinking. A lot. This trip changed me. I know every moment we live is a change from what the last moment was, but...this is something else. Or maybe I just have more of an awareness of the change now. No. I'm different. I know that.
Most of it goes beyond words...it's just a sense in my spirit that things will never be the same. If you asked me for details and I trusted you completely, I still wouldn't be able to vocalize some of it. And I've tried. The words somehow get stuck in one of those synaptic paths and never make it out my mouth.
But I DO have stories to tell. And some of them, like this one I'm "fixin" to tell, will eventually be told. I've learned that when I hear or read something more than once in a short span of time, it's usually something of which I should take note. This is something I heard twice in 3 days while I was at Glacier...with some of my own perspective thrown in, of course.
Forest fires destroy thousands of acres of trees each year. Over 5000 acres burned in the Skyland Fire, right outside of Glacier Park, last summer. There are an average of ten fires per year, usually small and quickly contained, inside the park. If a forest fire starts by natural means (lightning strike), the National Park Service policy is to allow it to burn itself out. If they determine it was started by human error/intention/etc., they will take steps to put it out.
Lodgepole pine trees grow in abundance in Montana. They are tall and beautiful...and if you look carefully, they are often towering above burned stumps remaining from old forest fires. And that is because...
The pinecones of the lodgepole pine tree are coated in a dense resin. So dense that the seeds don't release unless the resin is melted away so the cone can open. Melted by high heat. From a forest fire. When the fire burns the existing trees, the resin melts, the pinecones open, the seeds release and...the "circle of life" begins again.
Hmm. So, God has a plan. And even when that original plan is thwarted, there's a perfect "back-up" plan already in place. Kind of echoes the creation/fall/redemption story, doesn't it?
And, of course, I bring this all down to a personal level as well. I've had several "firestorms" in my life. I've set some of those fires myself. Others, I guess, you could say were "natural"...or at least not of my own making--I was just in the path of the blaze...the right (wrong) place at the right (wrong) time. Some of them burned their way through my life and extinguished themselves when there was nothing left to be burned. Others were put out by people who care, people who put themselves in the fire's path to help me.
But no matter the cause, the fires burned. Burned away things/people/ideas/attitudes I held dear...or at least held onto. And I was left semi-standing--a burned-out, smoking stump...a barely-recognizable remnant of what I once was. Dead. In the middle of a charred field. A blackened field full of...newly-released-from-melted-resin seeds ("forged in the fires of Mt. Doom" for you LOTR people--don't you love my randomosity?!). Fresh starts. Unexpected potential. The blessing of a clean slate and a new day.
And once again, I'm reminded that change, even that change forged by fire, is a gift. Part of the plan. A page in my redemption story.
Most of it goes beyond words...it's just a sense in my spirit that things will never be the same. If you asked me for details and I trusted you completely, I still wouldn't be able to vocalize some of it. And I've tried. The words somehow get stuck in one of those synaptic paths and never make it out my mouth.
But I DO have stories to tell. And some of them, like this one I'm "fixin" to tell, will eventually be told. I've learned that when I hear or read something more than once in a short span of time, it's usually something of which I should take note. This is something I heard twice in 3 days while I was at Glacier...with some of my own perspective thrown in, of course.
Forest fires destroy thousands of acres of trees each year. Over 5000 acres burned in the Skyland Fire, right outside of Glacier Park, last summer. There are an average of ten fires per year, usually small and quickly contained, inside the park. If a forest fire starts by natural means (lightning strike), the National Park Service policy is to allow it to burn itself out. If they determine it was started by human error/intention/etc., they will take steps to put it out.
Lodgepole pine trees grow in abundance in Montana. They are tall and beautiful...and if you look carefully, they are often towering above burned stumps remaining from old forest fires. And that is because...
The pinecones of the lodgepole pine tree are coated in a dense resin. So dense that the seeds don't release unless the resin is melted away so the cone can open. Melted by high heat. From a forest fire. When the fire burns the existing trees, the resin melts, the pinecones open, the seeds release and...the "circle of life" begins again.
Hmm. So, God has a plan. And even when that original plan is thwarted, there's a perfect "back-up" plan already in place. Kind of echoes the creation/fall/redemption story, doesn't it?
And, of course, I bring this all down to a personal level as well. I've had several "firestorms" in my life. I've set some of those fires myself. Others, I guess, you could say were "natural"...or at least not of my own making--I was just in the path of the blaze...the right (wrong) place at the right (wrong) time. Some of them burned their way through my life and extinguished themselves when there was nothing left to be burned. Others were put out by people who care, people who put themselves in the fire's path to help me.
But no matter the cause, the fires burned. Burned away things/people/ideas/attitudes I held dear...or at least held onto. And I was left semi-standing--a burned-out, smoking stump...a barely-recognizable remnant of what I once was. Dead. In the middle of a charred field. A blackened field full of...newly-released-from-melted-resin seeds ("forged in the fires of Mt. Doom" for you LOTR people--don't you love my randomosity?!). Fresh starts. Unexpected potential. The blessing of a clean slate and a new day.
And once again, I'm reminded that change, even that change forged by fire, is a gift. Part of the plan. A page in my redemption story.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Such a little word...
...to be causing such a struggle for me.
TRUST–noun
1. reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence.
2. confident expectation of something; hope.
I read this definition and it makes perfect, logical sense. And then I turn around to see how this fits into where I am right now and it all falls apart.
I wrote a few weeks ago about having faith in a God that I can't see...and now I'm struggling with trusting that same God. If I really have the faith I say I have, why doesn't trust automatically follow?
I can pick this definition apart and fully agree that I can rely on the integrity, strength and ability of God. And I DO, indeed, have confident expectation and hope of...well, something. I guess it comes down to the fact that I trust what *I* think is best for me more than I trust the great unknown of what's behind door number one in the mystery of whatever God's thinking.
I know this sounds crazy, but I have to sacrifice my hope. I'm seeing, with some clarity, that my trust, my "confident expectation of something" has been in myself. My hope hasn't been in God...it's been hope that God will give me what I want. It's WAY too similar to some of that "your best life now, name it and claim it" prosperity BS. I've always found a way to justify it because my dreams aren't for financial riches--my dearest dreams are, for the most part, cloaked in really good, unselfish intentions. But now I'm seeing that, if I'm really going to trust God, it requires laying those things (and one especially) down...tying them up on an altar, actually, and taking the knife to them. Sounds pretty morbid, doesn't it?
So...I'm honestly not sure where I go from here. On the surface, it's an easy answer. An obvious one. But when it's the thing you hold most dear--the most treasured, precious, beautiful hope you currently possess--and you see that God may choose to NOT provide another lamb for the sacrifce and hand your dream back to you, well...I'm not there yet.
TRUST–noun
1. reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence.
2. confident expectation of something; hope.
I read this definition and it makes perfect, logical sense. And then I turn around to see how this fits into where I am right now and it all falls apart.
I wrote a few weeks ago about having faith in a God that I can't see...and now I'm struggling with trusting that same God. If I really have the faith I say I have, why doesn't trust automatically follow?
I can pick this definition apart and fully agree that I can rely on the integrity, strength and ability of God. And I DO, indeed, have confident expectation and hope of...well, something. I guess it comes down to the fact that I trust what *I* think is best for me more than I trust the great unknown of what's behind door number one in the mystery of whatever God's thinking.
I know this sounds crazy, but I have to sacrifice my hope. I'm seeing, with some clarity, that my trust, my "confident expectation of something" has been in myself. My hope hasn't been in God...it's been hope that God will give me what I want. It's WAY too similar to some of that "your best life now, name it and claim it" prosperity BS. I've always found a way to justify it because my dreams aren't for financial riches--my dearest dreams are, for the most part, cloaked in really good, unselfish intentions. But now I'm seeing that, if I'm really going to trust God, it requires laying those things (and one especially) down...tying them up on an altar, actually, and taking the knife to them. Sounds pretty morbid, doesn't it?
So...I'm honestly not sure where I go from here. On the surface, it's an easy answer. An obvious one. But when it's the thing you hold most dear--the most treasured, precious, beautiful hope you currently possess--and you see that God may choose to NOT provide another lamb for the sacrifce and hand your dream back to you, well...I'm not there yet.
Monday, August 18, 2008
The song I'm loving right now...
You're Beautiful--
James Blunt
My life is brilliant.
My life is brilliant.
My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.
Yeah, she caught my eye,
As we walked on by.
She could see from my face
that I was flying high,
And I don't think that I'll see her again,
But we shared a moment that will last till the end.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.
James Blunt
My life is brilliant.
My life is brilliant.
My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.
Yeah, she caught my eye,
As we walked on by.
She could see from my face
that I was flying high,
And I don't think that I'll see her again,
But we shared a moment that will last till the end.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
On a reading binge...
I've finished The Shack.
I'm still thinking about it. Trying to process it all. If I've talked to you lately, you probably know that this book, combined with some other things that have been going on in my world, has brought to the point of near-meltdown. I don't think the book itself would've had that much effect on me, since much of it lines up with the direction in which my thoughts have been heading for the past couple of years, but combined with the other "stuff"...well, let's just say I've spent the last week either in tears, near tears, or in complete emotional shutdown to avoid the possibility of tears.
I need to chew on it all some more. And maybe I can come back with something readable. Well, something I'm comfortable with posting here, anyway.
And now, I'm reading Rob Bell's Sex God again. In a weird way, the two completely fit together--it makes perfect sense for me to be reading them back-to-back. I think I'll be able to glean more from the re-read now.
It's kind of strange...I have so much that I'd like to write about, but I sit here and look at the screen and NOTHING comes out. Someday, though...
I'm still thinking about it. Trying to process it all. If I've talked to you lately, you probably know that this book, combined with some other things that have been going on in my world, has brought to the point of near-meltdown. I don't think the book itself would've had that much effect on me, since much of it lines up with the direction in which my thoughts have been heading for the past couple of years, but combined with the other "stuff"...well, let's just say I've spent the last week either in tears, near tears, or in complete emotional shutdown to avoid the possibility of tears.
I need to chew on it all some more. And maybe I can come back with something readable. Well, something I'm comfortable with posting here, anyway.
And now, I'm reading Rob Bell's Sex God again. In a weird way, the two completely fit together--it makes perfect sense for me to be reading them back-to-back. I think I'll be able to glean more from the re-read now.
It's kind of strange...I have so much that I'd like to write about, but I sit here and look at the screen and NOTHING comes out. Someday, though...
Correspondence with the cat...
Dear Pissy:
I've just spent 2 hours vacuuming my niture. Take note of the fact that there is no fur. Frankly, I would like to keep it that way.
Love,
Me
Dear keeper of the cathouse:
Fat chance of that. And who is this Frank Lee person? Please don't discuss our personal issues with strangers.
Paws and kisses,
Lady Pissy of Hairball Castle
I've just spent 2 hours vacuuming my niture. Take note of the fact that there is no fur. Frankly, I would like to keep it that way.
Love,
Me
Dear keeper of the cathouse:
Fat chance of that. And who is this Frank Lee person? Please don't discuss our personal issues with strangers.
Paws and kisses,
Lady Pissy of Hairball Castle
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Beautiful messy truth...
...from a guy who runs a homeless shelter and blogs here:
The real world keeps on spinning and our lives continue to unfold. Life is not like a television drama or a novel with tidy resolutions that pull everything together at the end. We do not have the luxury of living happily ever after or being damned for good at the final page. Each day is another page in the story. There is failure, relapse, redemption and hope lurking on the horizon. That is bad news. That is good news. It means I cannot tidy up a person’s story and give it the permanent, Christian fairy tale ending. It also means I cannot write anyone off as beyond hope. Once I do either of those things, it will be time to turn the page and be surprised again. It is both a blessing and a curse to have the longevity in this business that I have. Most people do not get to stick around long enough to see redemption take place. Most people do not stick around long enough to see the sure thing unravel. Real people live real lives of not so real permanence.
The real world keeps on spinning and our lives continue to unfold. Life is not like a television drama or a novel with tidy resolutions that pull everything together at the end. We do not have the luxury of living happily ever after or being damned for good at the final page. Each day is another page in the story. There is failure, relapse, redemption and hope lurking on the horizon. That is bad news. That is good news. It means I cannot tidy up a person’s story and give it the permanent, Christian fairy tale ending. It also means I cannot write anyone off as beyond hope. Once I do either of those things, it will be time to turn the page and be surprised again. It is both a blessing and a curse to have the longevity in this business that I have. Most people do not get to stick around long enough to see redemption take place. Most people do not stick around long enough to see the sure thing unravel. Real people live real lives of not so real permanence.
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