Love, relationships, men. I've written on them in the past, but before this year, I had absolutely no experience with them. I never had a boyfriend or even the interest in one. I was saving myself for someone who I really felt I could be with for the long haul. Now, at the end of my first relationship, I feel like I have a little more knowledge to work with.
Well, honestly? At the beginning of the day, I just wanted to say, "to Hell with 'em." And I meant every relationship. I was done. I get sick of trusting people only to be totally let down. I recently found out that my brother is getting a divorce. This is obviously really hard on him, but I think we all feel the ache. He's thirteen years older than me, so they got married when I was six. She babysit me as a toddler on, and it always felt like she was a real sister and not just an in-law. Now, with the things that she's said and done to my brother and nephew, I can't trust her anymore or our relationship as sisters. I feel like I've lost another sibling. The point of this digression? Well, I looked up to them. They were so in love, so good together. I wanted what they had. And now, it's crumbled, and I feel like a part of my idea of love has too.
To me, love must involve trust. Trusting entirely in another person, taking into account, of course, that they are human. Trusting that despite the failures, the fear, and the struggles, they will always love you and keep their vow to you. And vice versa. Trusting that they are honest and open, that their promises and supposed truths are what they seem to be. Trusting that they'll fight to be with you, that they'll work even when it's hard, that they'll not give up the minute things get a little scary or difficult.
That's what I feel really lacks in my relationships. Trust. That's what hurts the most in this break-up. I trusted him with my heart, something I have never been able to do, not even with most friends. I have been through so many terrible times, times that taught me to be independent and protect myself. I have learned not to trust so easily, to test the waters and observe before you jump in. I was always so careful. But with him, we had this instant connection, and I felt like I could trust him with all those things I never had trusted others with. And I did. I told him things very few people know. For the longest time, I was confused about how I felt about him, because I was too afraid to just fall. But then, I did. I fell. Hard.
I assumed he fell hard as well. The things he said and did indicated that he did. He claimed to. He talked about wanting to marry me. He promised so many times to never leave me. He promised that I didn't have to face all those hurts alone, that he'd be there. He said all of those things the day before he ended things. He lied right to my face so many times. And THAT is what I'm talking about. I trusted his words. I trusted his actions. I feel like a fool.
But here's what I'm realizing. Trusting is scary. Trusting is a risk. It's really hard when trust is broken. But it's necessary to survive. It's necessary to love. It's just determining what you're trusting in, and WHO you're trusting in that matters.
"For it is we who are the circumcision, we who serve God by his Spirit, who boast in Christ Jesus, and who put no confidence in the flesh" - Philippians 3:3
So, trusting in the flesh, meaning the world, is not what we are called to do. Plain and simple. Of course we're going to be disappointed by others if we put all of our confidence, all of our trust in them. In fact, it's an unfair burden on them. They will fail. We don't excuse mistakes just because they are human; there must be a certain responsibility for one's actions. However, we can change how we react and deal with those mistakes. If you put so much confidence in the another person, when they crumble, you crumble with them. But if you put your confidence in God, when they fall, you remain on solid ground.
I lost sight of that. I'm no less hurt in realizing it, but I am determined not to completely lose the ability to trust others. I just have to remember where my true trust and confidence should be. In God. That's the only thing that won't fail.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
The Difference One Year Makes
Some years go by, and you barely remember much of what happened. Some are so monumental that they're forever ingrained on your mind. Some go quickly, and some go slowly. Some seem particularly negative, and some are clearly positive.
This year wasn't like "some" other year. It was monumental, but I lose most of the small things that happened in the shadow cast by the large things that happened. It seems to have been slow and tedious, but when I really consider it, it was so quick. And I look at what happened and see both positive and negative. This year had no either/or; it had no this or that. It was a bit of everything on both sides of the spectrum.
It was monumental for a few reasons. Leroy, my youth leader and greatest example for how to live a Godly life, died a year ago today in a sudden car accident. He happened to take a different route home from work that day and a tractor trailer came (for no known reason) across the median and killed him in an instant. Of course, he wasn't wearing a seatbelt or shoes, which was his custom, but it wouldn't have mattered. A tractor trailer going 75 mph into the front of your car cannot turn out well.
I remember the big moments of it all. My best friend and his neice, Chelcee, called to tell me. I remember the silent sobbing I heard as I said "hello?" I remember her words, "Bub's gone." I remember the shattering of my heart and the instant numbness. I remember praying with my parents and pleading God to revive him, to somehow tell me that it had been just a chance for God to manifest himself and perform a miracle. I couldn't imagine the world without him. I remember sitting in the church making the collages for his memorial, cutting out pictures of him and his wife, children, family, and youth group. It hadn't sunk in at all. I remember going into the church gym and sitting at the tables at which he taught us so many lessons. I silently asked Leroy to come back and teach me some more. I wasn't ready to stand on my own.
And those few days are where I refuse to remember anymore. I just cut out the details, because I can't sit around weeping everyday, because I know if I remembered, then that is simply all I could do. The year was a blur, because I just don't want to experience it again in memory. It's like that near-drunken state after a death that numbs you to experience. Yet, I went on, in that numb state and changed quite a bit. I decided to drop my thoughts of being a counselor to pursue my first love, music. I transferred schools. I renewed my relationship with God. The years before he died, I had been at a standstill spiritually. I still cringe at the thought that he didn't see any growth in me for so long and that he never will. He invested so much in my life that he deserves that much from me. I couldn't ever honor his memory if I did not follow God.
The year went quickly in the sense that it feels like it literally happened yesterday. Writing this, here in my dorm room, I'm struggling to get rid of the lump in my throat and the tears nearly spilling when I think about him. The ache and the shock and the sorrow are still so strong that I can barely breathe. The year has gone so quickly that it seems like minutes since it happened. But on the other hand, the growth personally and in our church is so immense that the year had to have gone slowly to have facilitated it. That kind of transformation is not quick let alone instantaneous. So, yes, it has been a full year.
It was also both positive and negative. The negative aspect is clear. It's tragic and heartbreaking, something none of us will ever get over in this lifetime. But it has woken a lot of people up, including myself. It was helped us grow closer to one other and have greater empathy and compassion. It has made us rely fully on God, because without Him, none of us would have survived this. Honestly, it's a miracle of God that we did. In the moment, it was not a struggle I thought we could overcome.
So, why do I write this sad, downer of a post? Well, I didn't mention the significance of the day to anyone here. I didn't think they would understand how great a loss it really is. "Oh, your youth leader died? That sucks." What they don't get is that he was like a father to me, to all of us. I just couldn't go another second without acknowledging the day. It feels wrong not to honor his memory. His wife gave me one of his t-shirts that he wore all the time. She told me to wear it, but I just haven't been able to do it. It felt sacreligious, like I was defacing a sacred garment. And for the longest time it smelled like he used to, and I didn't want to get rid of that sensory memory. But today, I wore it. It no longer smelled like him, but strangely enough, I felt very close to him. I thought people might think that was weird. I almost do, but then I think of him as my father, and I feel like it's normal. I honored the day in my own, silent way.
He was the greatest man I have ever met. He did more in 43 short years then most people even dream about doing in 90. He was Godly and righteous. It makes me think of a scripture I read shortly after it happened that comforted me immensely.
"Good people pass away; the godly often die before their time. But no one seems to care or wonder why. No one seems to understand that God is protecting them from the evil to come. For those who follow godly paths will rest in peace when they die." - Isaiah 57: 1-2
It's good to know that he's resting with God. I have peace about that, a peace I never had with my brother's death. The peace of knowing that Leroy is where he belongs, with God and is safe from the suffering of this earth. What a reunion we will have in eternity! I long for that day!
This year wasn't like "some" other year. It was monumental, but I lose most of the small things that happened in the shadow cast by the large things that happened. It seems to have been slow and tedious, but when I really consider it, it was so quick. And I look at what happened and see both positive and negative. This year had no either/or; it had no this or that. It was a bit of everything on both sides of the spectrum.
It was monumental for a few reasons. Leroy, my youth leader and greatest example for how to live a Godly life, died a year ago today in a sudden car accident. He happened to take a different route home from work that day and a tractor trailer came (for no known reason) across the median and killed him in an instant. Of course, he wasn't wearing a seatbelt or shoes, which was his custom, but it wouldn't have mattered. A tractor trailer going 75 mph into the front of your car cannot turn out well.
I remember the big moments of it all. My best friend and his neice, Chelcee, called to tell me. I remember the silent sobbing I heard as I said "hello?" I remember her words, "Bub's gone." I remember the shattering of my heart and the instant numbness. I remember praying with my parents and pleading God to revive him, to somehow tell me that it had been just a chance for God to manifest himself and perform a miracle. I couldn't imagine the world without him. I remember sitting in the church making the collages for his memorial, cutting out pictures of him and his wife, children, family, and youth group. It hadn't sunk in at all. I remember going into the church gym and sitting at the tables at which he taught us so many lessons. I silently asked Leroy to come back and teach me some more. I wasn't ready to stand on my own.
And those few days are where I refuse to remember anymore. I just cut out the details, because I can't sit around weeping everyday, because I know if I remembered, then that is simply all I could do. The year was a blur, because I just don't want to experience it again in memory. It's like that near-drunken state after a death that numbs you to experience. Yet, I went on, in that numb state and changed quite a bit. I decided to drop my thoughts of being a counselor to pursue my first love, music. I transferred schools. I renewed my relationship with God. The years before he died, I had been at a standstill spiritually. I still cringe at the thought that he didn't see any growth in me for so long and that he never will. He invested so much in my life that he deserves that much from me. I couldn't ever honor his memory if I did not follow God.
The year went quickly in the sense that it feels like it literally happened yesterday. Writing this, here in my dorm room, I'm struggling to get rid of the lump in my throat and the tears nearly spilling when I think about him. The ache and the shock and the sorrow are still so strong that I can barely breathe. The year has gone so quickly that it seems like minutes since it happened. But on the other hand, the growth personally and in our church is so immense that the year had to have gone slowly to have facilitated it. That kind of transformation is not quick let alone instantaneous. So, yes, it has been a full year.
It was also both positive and negative. The negative aspect is clear. It's tragic and heartbreaking, something none of us will ever get over in this lifetime. But it has woken a lot of people up, including myself. It was helped us grow closer to one other and have greater empathy and compassion. It has made us rely fully on God, because without Him, none of us would have survived this. Honestly, it's a miracle of God that we did. In the moment, it was not a struggle I thought we could overcome.
So, why do I write this sad, downer of a post? Well, I didn't mention the significance of the day to anyone here. I didn't think they would understand how great a loss it really is. "Oh, your youth leader died? That sucks." What they don't get is that he was like a father to me, to all of us. I just couldn't go another second without acknowledging the day. It feels wrong not to honor his memory. His wife gave me one of his t-shirts that he wore all the time. She told me to wear it, but I just haven't been able to do it. It felt sacreligious, like I was defacing a sacred garment. And for the longest time it smelled like he used to, and I didn't want to get rid of that sensory memory. But today, I wore it. It no longer smelled like him, but strangely enough, I felt very close to him. I thought people might think that was weird. I almost do, but then I think of him as my father, and I feel like it's normal. I honored the day in my own, silent way.
He was the greatest man I have ever met. He did more in 43 short years then most people even dream about doing in 90. He was Godly and righteous. It makes me think of a scripture I read shortly after it happened that comforted me immensely.
"Good people pass away; the godly often die before their time. But no one seems to care or wonder why. No one seems to understand that God is protecting them from the evil to come. For those who follow godly paths will rest in peace when they die." - Isaiah 57: 1-2
It's good to know that he's resting with God. I have peace about that, a peace I never had with my brother's death. The peace of knowing that Leroy is where he belongs, with God and is safe from the suffering of this earth. What a reunion we will have in eternity! I long for that day!
Thursday, January 24, 2013
"Stir carefully through the days. See how the flavor stays. These are the dreams you'll savor. Memories are made of this."
Well, hello there blogging world. I intended many more posts over the break, but I suppose I got sidetracked a bit. Life happens!
This has been an emotional break for many reasons. I've never been away a from home for that long before. I've been in college for two and a half years, but the first two were at a college a few blocks away from my house. Now, I'm a long drive away in Illinois, 12 or so hours from my home in Pennsylvania. I didn't anticipate the homesickness at all. In fact, I was quite excited to be an "adult" (yea, right) for a while. I quickly learned that walking away from a place in which you experienced every year of your life is not so easy.
I miss the little things the most. I miss my puppy, Shya, greeting me at the door with eyes that told me she never thought I'd come home and that she was very glad to see she had been wrong. Nobody greets you quite like a dog. I miss crawling onto my parents' big, comfy waterbed and laying with my mom before bedtime (yes, I do this as a 20 year old; these are things I know I'll miss very much someday, and I must take advantage of them). I miss the smell of our special laundry detergent that doesn't ever smell the same anywhere but at home. I miss buttering up my daddy until he'll give me a kiss on the cheek. I miss laying on the radiator when the furnace is on, and cuddling with an afghan my mother crocheted. I miss my favorite food...toast. I didn't know until right before break that you can actually make toast in the dining commons. Ah, but not the same when your mom hasn't cut it into shapes for you.
I miss walking around town late at night to a park a few miles away and singing by the river. I miss drinking coffee and reading in the coffeeshop near my house. I miss exploring the hidden treasure that is Yesterday's Best, a small, tightly packed bookstore downtown and finding wonderful surprises. I miss visiting my mom at work in the hospital and feeling powerful for knowing the codes to get into the "special" rooms. I miss walking back from school and seeing everything in its place like every other day and basking in the consistency, something which never seems to carry over to other areas of life.
I miss my church. I miss this the most, I think. It's my home and my safe place. I miss the rolling green fields it sits on and the beautiful trees that surround it. I miss the playground that grew up in and in which I became forever friends with my "sister" Chelcee. I miss the river that runs right through it all and the picteresque bridge that crosses between the playground and everything else. I miss the gym where I played for hours and the library where I met Jesus at three. I miss the kitchen I washed many dishes in and the tables I've dirtied with countless crafts. I miss the balcony and upper room where I've had sleepovers and from which I've watched concerts. I miss the stage I sing on and the costumes that I wear for coffeehouses, whether I'm a clown or a rock star or a Bible character. I even miss the bathrooms I clean every Saturday. But most of all I miss the memories.
I miss my youth group and our crazy (and sometimes violent) game nights. I miss surprise hug attacks from Chelcee. I miss hugs from my 5 year old best friend, Lael, who holds on to me with such desperation and hunger for affection that I wish I would never have to let her go ( I had to say goodbye to her today; she cried and I cried and I think we're both still crying right now). I miss nights at dance troupe when my friend Leighton comes up with the funniest moves that we could never in a million years do just like her. I miss youth trips in the Chateau (our endearing nickname for the clunker van we travel in) and wondering if its actually safe to be riding in. The oil covered back windows point to "no". I miss nights around the camefire and listening to Leighton singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" like a crazy person.
I miss old times and people who have exited my life on Earth (eternity shall be a glorious reunion!). I miss a man who has impacted my life more than any other person. One who has been my father, my teacher, my cheerleader, and my co-star, among many other things. I look at every inch of my beloved church, and I see something he taught me there or a joke that I remember rolling on the floor laughing about or a word of encouragement he gave me. It was easy to run away to school, because I didn't have to see him everywhere there. I remember the day after he passed (a year ago this Wednesday), sitting against a post at the back of the gym with the chairs, the stage, and every memory staring back at me. Between the thoughts of disbelief and my refusal to accept what had transpired, I found time to realize that I could never walk into this place and not notice the extreme lack that came from the loss. The heart of our church body, Leroy's presence was so very vital, and it's loss is indescribable. I miss him every second, as does everyone else in our church, especially his wife, four daughters, his parents, three sisters, two nephews, 4 nieces and countless other people that he welcomed into his family. I miss life with him in it.
From all that I miss, I learn to appreciate my life and not simply my present or future but also, my past. I am humbled by the people and memories that I hold close. Many times I get bogged down by the weight of negativety that has marked my past, but in reflection I realize that there was beauty in it all. Many times I get caught in my loneliness, crying foul at loss and lack, forgetting to recognize what I do have and haven't lost. I have wonderful parents that even in the many trials they have faced still care for me and provide for me. I have a church family that again, humbles me with their genorosity and love and encouragment that they offer to me, someone who is so undeserving. I look at them and see that I have at least 5 sets of parents, dozens of siblings, and an amazing assortment of mentors who lead me in their wisdom. I get so down about having a very tumultuous and rather small natural family, but then I realize how blessed I am to have this church body behind me every step of the way. I am brought to tears and will miss them incredibly.
It's emotional, because I realize that this is the beginning of a forever kind of change. I don't know where I will be in a few years or what I will be. I don't know if I'll be a musician or a cashier or both. I don't know if I'll be finding an apartment in Illinois or moving in to one with my best friend back in Pennsylvania or doing something different in some other state. I just don't know, and it's exciting and sad and painful and joyous all at the same time. Not to mention terrifying! But I cherish every memory, good and bad. It all comes together to make me who I am, whether you see that as good or bad or in between. All I know is that missing brings tears of sadness but also happiness. We miss times gone by and that makes us sad, but it's a joyous thing to be able to remember and relive those times.
2 Peter 1: 12-16
"12 So I will always remind you of these things, even though you know them and are firmly established in the truth you now have. 13 I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body,14 because I know that I will soon put it aside, as our Lord Jesus Christ has made clear to me. 15 And I will make every effort to see that after my departure you will always be able to remember these things. 16 We did not follow cleverly invented stories when we told you about the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty."
Every memory is a testament to the majesty of Jesus. I am reminded of His glory, power, and love through every thing I find myself looking back on and missing while away. So, while change is crazy and sad and exciting and scary, I will always have the memories of my past to remind me of life's beauty and God's magnificence. Every second we live, we are "eyewitnesses of his majesty." Wow!
This has been an emotional break for many reasons. I've never been away a from home for that long before. I've been in college for two and a half years, but the first two were at a college a few blocks away from my house. Now, I'm a long drive away in Illinois, 12 or so hours from my home in Pennsylvania. I didn't anticipate the homesickness at all. In fact, I was quite excited to be an "adult" (yea, right) for a while. I quickly learned that walking away from a place in which you experienced every year of your life is not so easy.
I miss the little things the most. I miss my puppy, Shya, greeting me at the door with eyes that told me she never thought I'd come home and that she was very glad to see she had been wrong. Nobody greets you quite like a dog. I miss crawling onto my parents' big, comfy waterbed and laying with my mom before bedtime (yes, I do this as a 20 year old; these are things I know I'll miss very much someday, and I must take advantage of them). I miss the smell of our special laundry detergent that doesn't ever smell the same anywhere but at home. I miss buttering up my daddy until he'll give me a kiss on the cheek. I miss laying on the radiator when the furnace is on, and cuddling with an afghan my mother crocheted. I miss my favorite food...toast. I didn't know until right before break that you can actually make toast in the dining commons. Ah, but not the same when your mom hasn't cut it into shapes for you.
I miss walking around town late at night to a park a few miles away and singing by the river. I miss drinking coffee and reading in the coffeeshop near my house. I miss exploring the hidden treasure that is Yesterday's Best, a small, tightly packed bookstore downtown and finding wonderful surprises. I miss visiting my mom at work in the hospital and feeling powerful for knowing the codes to get into the "special" rooms. I miss walking back from school and seeing everything in its place like every other day and basking in the consistency, something which never seems to carry over to other areas of life.
I miss my church. I miss this the most, I think. It's my home and my safe place. I miss the rolling green fields it sits on and the beautiful trees that surround it. I miss the playground that grew up in and in which I became forever friends with my "sister" Chelcee. I miss the river that runs right through it all and the picteresque bridge that crosses between the playground and everything else. I miss the gym where I played for hours and the library where I met Jesus at three. I miss the kitchen I washed many dishes in and the tables I've dirtied with countless crafts. I miss the balcony and upper room where I've had sleepovers and from which I've watched concerts. I miss the stage I sing on and the costumes that I wear for coffeehouses, whether I'm a clown or a rock star or a Bible character. I even miss the bathrooms I clean every Saturday. But most of all I miss the memories.
I miss my youth group and our crazy (and sometimes violent) game nights. I miss surprise hug attacks from Chelcee. I miss hugs from my 5 year old best friend, Lael, who holds on to me with such desperation and hunger for affection that I wish I would never have to let her go ( I had to say goodbye to her today; she cried and I cried and I think we're both still crying right now). I miss nights at dance troupe when my friend Leighton comes up with the funniest moves that we could never in a million years do just like her. I miss youth trips in the Chateau (our endearing nickname for the clunker van we travel in) and wondering if its actually safe to be riding in. The oil covered back windows point to "no". I miss nights around the camefire and listening to Leighton singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" like a crazy person.
I miss old times and people who have exited my life on Earth (eternity shall be a glorious reunion!). I miss a man who has impacted my life more than any other person. One who has been my father, my teacher, my cheerleader, and my co-star, among many other things. I look at every inch of my beloved church, and I see something he taught me there or a joke that I remember rolling on the floor laughing about or a word of encouragement he gave me. It was easy to run away to school, because I didn't have to see him everywhere there. I remember the day after he passed (a year ago this Wednesday), sitting against a post at the back of the gym with the chairs, the stage, and every memory staring back at me. Between the thoughts of disbelief and my refusal to accept what had transpired, I found time to realize that I could never walk into this place and not notice the extreme lack that came from the loss. The heart of our church body, Leroy's presence was so very vital, and it's loss is indescribable. I miss him every second, as does everyone else in our church, especially his wife, four daughters, his parents, three sisters, two nephews, 4 nieces and countless other people that he welcomed into his family. I miss life with him in it.
From all that I miss, I learn to appreciate my life and not simply my present or future but also, my past. I am humbled by the people and memories that I hold close. Many times I get bogged down by the weight of negativety that has marked my past, but in reflection I realize that there was beauty in it all. Many times I get caught in my loneliness, crying foul at loss and lack, forgetting to recognize what I do have and haven't lost. I have wonderful parents that even in the many trials they have faced still care for me and provide for me. I have a church family that again, humbles me with their genorosity and love and encouragment that they offer to me, someone who is so undeserving. I look at them and see that I have at least 5 sets of parents, dozens of siblings, and an amazing assortment of mentors who lead me in their wisdom. I get so down about having a very tumultuous and rather small natural family, but then I realize how blessed I am to have this church body behind me every step of the way. I am brought to tears and will miss them incredibly.
It's emotional, because I realize that this is the beginning of a forever kind of change. I don't know where I will be in a few years or what I will be. I don't know if I'll be a musician or a cashier or both. I don't know if I'll be finding an apartment in Illinois or moving in to one with my best friend back in Pennsylvania or doing something different in some other state. I just don't know, and it's exciting and sad and painful and joyous all at the same time. Not to mention terrifying! But I cherish every memory, good and bad. It all comes together to make me who I am, whether you see that as good or bad or in between. All I know is that missing brings tears of sadness but also happiness. We miss times gone by and that makes us sad, but it's a joyous thing to be able to remember and relive those times.
2 Peter 1: 12-16
"12 So I will always remind you of these things, even though you know them and are firmly established in the truth you now have. 13 I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body,14 because I know that I will soon put it aside, as our Lord Jesus Christ has made clear to me. 15 And I will make every effort to see that after my departure you will always be able to remember these things. 16 We did not follow cleverly invented stories when we told you about the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty."
Every memory is a testament to the majesty of Jesus. I am reminded of His glory, power, and love through every thing I find myself looking back on and missing while away. So, while change is crazy and sad and exciting and scary, I will always have the memories of my past to remind me of life's beauty and God's magnificence. Every second we live, we are "eyewitnesses of his majesty." Wow!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
It All Starts with God
I haven't had a chance to blog in awhile, mostly, because life just gets in the way. I'm starting a study called The Purpose Driven Life. While I've been away at college, my church has completed it, and I decided I ought to catch up. It's 40 days of figuring out the meaning of life. Wow! I'm sure excited for that! I plan to write a blog post about what I glean from each day's reading. I find that it's easier to understand and ingrain material into the brain if you write down what you've learned from it. Today is Day One. Section one is called "What on Earth am I Here for?" Chapter one has the same title as my blog post, as will all blog posts throughout the study.
Day One: It All Starts with God
It isn't about me.
I love to take possession of things. Maybe it's the American materialism in me or maybe it's just human nature, but I love to claim things that I want, to hold them tight to myself, and to use them for my own purposes. It's my life. It's my future. It's my decision. The problem with that mentality is that it stifles any other input. It's like a child with a new toy. He or she enjoys it until someone else tries to give suggestions on how to use it. Does it matter that the other child might have a great idea of how it could be used? No. Does this child think about the fact that he or she might not know everything about it? No. Of course not. To that child, the toy is their own and nobody elses'. We don't fault a child for that, because they don't quite understand the concept yet. But what about us? What about me?
I have always seen my life as my own. I haven't had anyone tell me any different. Even as a Christian for as long as I can remember, I have never quite grasped the idea that I am not my own and that my life is not my own. God is a part of my life, sure, but it was never as if He was the director of my life. After all, we have free will, right? Well, I've been thinking of it incorrectly. Yes, we have free will; however, maybe that free will is to be used to give up the reigns and let God have his way and not to call the shots. God gave us freedom so that we would choose Him and not our own path. He has had our lives planned since before we were even thoughts in our parents' heads. Clearly, He doesn't need us to tell Him what our purpose is, because He had it ready before we existed.
That purpose? That grand plan for our lives? It's bigger than us and our desires. God's plan for our lives is beyond anything we can imagine, and despite our smallness in the scheme of things, our plans affect this world more than we will ever see. We spend so much time planning our moves like they're only affecting us. Wake up call! We affect more than ourselves. It isn't just about our little lives. Of course, each of us matters to God, down to the number of hairs on our heads, but our purpose goes far above our own existence. I need to understand that it isn't about me. The decision to let God lead me doesn't just affect me, and it isn't just about making my life enjoyable for me. It's all about God and what He wants to use me to do for others.
So, how do we know what our purpose is? People spend their entire lives searching, and many give up, because they never feel that they've found the meaning of their lives. Well, the short answer is God. Now, I'm not saying that you say a simple prayer and read a scripture, and God will reveal your future to you. It doesn't work that way in my experience.
But think about it. Let's say you got some nifty contraption for Christmas this year. You have no idea what it's used for or how to use it. Do you mess with it yourself, potentially breaking it or using it much below its potential? Or do you consult the instruction manual, written by the creator who knows every subtle nuance of the machine? The same goes for our lives. We didn't create ourselves, and we have no idea how to correctly reach our full potential. When we try to figure it out alone, we just make a mess of things. It's only when we consult our Creator, God, that we figure out our purpose. And that means letting Him lead us through prayer, fellowship with others who will encourage us in our walks, and meditation on His word, which is our very own instruction manual.
It's isn't about me or you or any individual. Our purpose goes beyond us, it affects more than us, and it can only be found in relationship with our Creator. Find Him, and you will find your purpose.
Day One: It All Starts with God
It isn't about me.
I love to take possession of things. Maybe it's the American materialism in me or maybe it's just human nature, but I love to claim things that I want, to hold them tight to myself, and to use them for my own purposes. It's my life. It's my future. It's my decision. The problem with that mentality is that it stifles any other input. It's like a child with a new toy. He or she enjoys it until someone else tries to give suggestions on how to use it. Does it matter that the other child might have a great idea of how it could be used? No. Does this child think about the fact that he or she might not know everything about it? No. Of course not. To that child, the toy is their own and nobody elses'. We don't fault a child for that, because they don't quite understand the concept yet. But what about us? What about me?
I have always seen my life as my own. I haven't had anyone tell me any different. Even as a Christian for as long as I can remember, I have never quite grasped the idea that I am not my own and that my life is not my own. God is a part of my life, sure, but it was never as if He was the director of my life. After all, we have free will, right? Well, I've been thinking of it incorrectly. Yes, we have free will; however, maybe that free will is to be used to give up the reigns and let God have his way and not to call the shots. God gave us freedom so that we would choose Him and not our own path. He has had our lives planned since before we were even thoughts in our parents' heads. Clearly, He doesn't need us to tell Him what our purpose is, because He had it ready before we existed.
That purpose? That grand plan for our lives? It's bigger than us and our desires. God's plan for our lives is beyond anything we can imagine, and despite our smallness in the scheme of things, our plans affect this world more than we will ever see. We spend so much time planning our moves like they're only affecting us. Wake up call! We affect more than ourselves. It isn't just about our little lives. Of course, each of us matters to God, down to the number of hairs on our heads, but our purpose goes far above our own existence. I need to understand that it isn't about me. The decision to let God lead me doesn't just affect me, and it isn't just about making my life enjoyable for me. It's all about God and what He wants to use me to do for others.
So, how do we know what our purpose is? People spend their entire lives searching, and many give up, because they never feel that they've found the meaning of their lives. Well, the short answer is God. Now, I'm not saying that you say a simple prayer and read a scripture, and God will reveal your future to you. It doesn't work that way in my experience.
But think about it. Let's say you got some nifty contraption for Christmas this year. You have no idea what it's used for or how to use it. Do you mess with it yourself, potentially breaking it or using it much below its potential? Or do you consult the instruction manual, written by the creator who knows every subtle nuance of the machine? The same goes for our lives. We didn't create ourselves, and we have no idea how to correctly reach our full potential. When we try to figure it out alone, we just make a mess of things. It's only when we consult our Creator, God, that we figure out our purpose. And that means letting Him lead us through prayer, fellowship with others who will encourage us in our walks, and meditation on His word, which is our very own instruction manual.
It's isn't about me or you or any individual. Our purpose goes beyond us, it affects more than us, and it can only be found in relationship with our Creator. Find Him, and you will find your purpose.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
I Need You, You Need Me
Well, I made it through another anniversary. Three years ago today, at almost this same time, my older brother passed away from pneumonia. As soon as November hits, it's like my brain won't shut off the memories, and I am overwhelmed. So, even though it's been three whole years, every anniversary, every birthday, and everyday reminder is still just as difficult.
For the past few days, I've been in that mode, and I knew today would be hard. What worried me the most was not being home. The past two years, I've spent this day with my best friends, so that if I needed them, they'd be right there and kind of, to distract me as well. But this year, I am 14 hours away from home and those people who normally hold me up in my weakness. I was so afraid that nobody here would understand and that I'd feel so alone in my heartache, but then God came to the rescue again. He provided me with the best friends I could ask for. I worked last night, and when I came back to my dorm room, I had a bouqet of flowers, a beautiful card, and tons of goodies. I couldn't even believe it. I literally stood and stared at it for a good five minutes.
You know, it isn't the stuff that mattered to me, even though they know me so well and got all of my favorite things. It was the thought and love that went into it. I have a lot of trouble trusting people and my relationships. If you knew my life story, you wouldn't blame me. But that distrust has hindered a lot of love and fulfillment in my life. Today, I realized something. I am not an island. I need other people. I may consider myself a loner and spend a good deal of time alone, but I need others. In fact, I depend on them. I certainly don't depend on them more than God, because humanness means imperfection, which means others will let me down and I will let them down as well. But I believe that we have fellowship as believers, because we need the body of Christ. I guess, I just never really understood that before.
My point is that I'm learning to need. I pretend to be so strong, but I'm no stronger than anyone else. And you know what? I don't have to be strong. Through my humanity, I am inherently needy, and that's ok. That's what God's for. But I'm also learning that sometimes He provides for our needs through people in our lives. I just need to get over my desire to be put together all the time. Who am I fooling anyway? I am a mess most of the time, but that's normal. Aren't we all? Let's connect through our brokenness. If nothing else brings us into unity, our neediness should be our bridge. We need each other.
For the past few days, I've been in that mode, and I knew today would be hard. What worried me the most was not being home. The past two years, I've spent this day with my best friends, so that if I needed them, they'd be right there and kind of, to distract me as well. But this year, I am 14 hours away from home and those people who normally hold me up in my weakness. I was so afraid that nobody here would understand and that I'd feel so alone in my heartache, but then God came to the rescue again. He provided me with the best friends I could ask for. I worked last night, and when I came back to my dorm room, I had a bouqet of flowers, a beautiful card, and tons of goodies. I couldn't even believe it. I literally stood and stared at it for a good five minutes.
You know, it isn't the stuff that mattered to me, even though they know me so well and got all of my favorite things. It was the thought and love that went into it. I have a lot of trouble trusting people and my relationships. If you knew my life story, you wouldn't blame me. But that distrust has hindered a lot of love and fulfillment in my life. Today, I realized something. I am not an island. I need other people. I may consider myself a loner and spend a good deal of time alone, but I need others. In fact, I depend on them. I certainly don't depend on them more than God, because humanness means imperfection, which means others will let me down and I will let them down as well. But I believe that we have fellowship as believers, because we need the body of Christ. I guess, I just never really understood that before.
My point is that I'm learning to need. I pretend to be so strong, but I'm no stronger than anyone else. And you know what? I don't have to be strong. Through my humanity, I am inherently needy, and that's ok. That's what God's for. But I'm also learning that sometimes He provides for our needs through people in our lives. I just need to get over my desire to be put together all the time. Who am I fooling anyway? I am a mess most of the time, but that's normal. Aren't we all? Let's connect through our brokenness. If nothing else brings us into unity, our neediness should be our bridge. We need each other.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Where I Belong
November 11th will mark the third anniversary of the death of my older brother, Nate. So, with less than two weeks until this anniversary, my mind has been flooded with memories and a lot of reflection on life in general. It also reminds me of the death of my youth leader, Leroy, this past January. Both of these events were those core-shaking, life-altering kinds of moments that you never forget. And the wounds from both are still so fresh that it hurts to really think about them.
I took the time last night to consider my brother's life and my relationship with him for the first time in over a year. I tend to push it aside and pretend that it isn't a part of who I am, but without this event or my brother, I would not be me at all. I don't really feel the need to go into detail about our relationship. If you ask, I'll tell you, but as this is a public forum, I don't feel that it's entirely appropriate. I will say that it was a tumultuous one, as was my brother's life in general. He was just so angry and hurting. I never quite figured out why or what that had to do with me, but I did notice one glaring difference between the two of us. He didn't follow God.
Now, you can call me a Jesus freak or whatever you'd like, but it is my firm belief that God is the only way to have an abundant life. And Nate, well, he knew of God. He'd grown up in church, he learned the stories, and I think that deep down, he might've loved God in some way, but he didn't have the relationship. This difference was evident in the way he lived his entire life. Unfortunately, I am left with the regret and guilt of not ensuring his salvation. Right, I know, it was his choice. But imagine truly having no idea whether a loved one went to Heaven or Hell. I like to believe in a merciful God that sees the heart, but I don't know the final state of Nate's heart either, and I wish that I had tried harder to help him find God.
I think what breaks my heart is that Nate had so much potential. He was so smart and hilarious. He could have been a famous scientist or a famous comedian, either way, he had that charisma and genius that is so rare. And imagine if he had put that charisma and genius into the kingdom of God. He could've made such a difference. He could have had joy and happiness in Christ, but instead, he lived a hard, sad life. So short a life, but so full of pain. It shouldn't have been that way. It breaks my heart.
Now, Leroy, he was the greatest person that I ever met or will probably meet. He was so funny, loving, Godly, intelligent, etc. If the church is the body, then he was the heart. And that's how it feels without him, like we're missing our heart. I can only imagine how his four young daughters,wife, sisters, parents, nieces, and nephews feel without him. I spend a lot of time with them when I'm in PA, and I can see the heartbreak. I know how heartbroken I am, so I can't even fathom their heartbreak.
But the difference, again, between Nate's life and Leroy's was God. Leroy had this joy and happiness that I have never seen in anyone else. I know that he is rejoicing in Heaven without a doubt. Nate did not have joy or happiness, at least, not beyond the surface. God makes all the difference in this life and where we end up in the next. I have this peace with Leroy's death that I never have found with Nate's. I think it's because I know where he is and that he was ready.
I keep listening to the song "Where I Belong" by Building 429 on repeat. It basically says that this world isn't our home. We are made for Heaven, and this life is just a temporary holding place for that greater paradise. It's an important song for a couple of reasons.
Three days before Leroy died, we went to Winter Jam, where Building 429 played. It's basically a huge event with an assortment of Christian artists. It's pretty fun. But I was standing beside him during the event, and when they played "Where I Belong", I remember being in awe of his sincerity in singing the words. Like he knew that he wasn't meant for this world and that he would be home soon. After it was over, I heard him turn and say to his oldest daughter, "Lauren, this is not where I belong." He said it playfully, but I know he was serious. It's something I will never forget experiencing. I can still hear him singing the words, "All I know is I'm not home yet. This is not where I belong. Take this world, and give me Jesus. This is not where I belong." He meant it with his entire self, and I can only wish to mean that like he did.
It's also something I've been thinking a lot about lately. I see so much pain in this world, and I experience a lot of pain. Not any more than anyone else, but sometimes it gets overwhelming. No one can dispute the fact that this world is not the greatest place to live. And I remember in the midst of some of my most difficult experiences just asking God to take me away. This world is so full of suffering that it's gets exhausting. But this song inspires me so much.
I don't think that in writing the lyrics, the writers meant it to be a plea to die. No, I think it's meant to help us realize that even in this world, we can have a piece of the other world. That's what Jesus did for us. This suffering, this terrible pain, is not what we have to define our lives by. We can have the abundant life that God intended for us even before we die. We can have joy and happiness like Leroy did. And beyond abundant life here, we have hope in knowing that we haven't even made it to our home yet. One day, we will finally be where we belong. There's a reason this place is so hard to fit into; it isn't where we belong.
It gives me hope. One, because Leroy is finally where he belongs, and in that, we can rejoice. Two, because even though Nate never experienced that abundant life and may not be in Heaven, I can learn from his life. I can be different. For a long time, I let his death ruin my life. It destroyed me. But now, I realize that it should be a lesson more than anything. I want what Leroy had. I want what God has for me here, but I want to be so found in God that if I died, I would know not only that I was going to Heaven but that I would finally be going home. I don't want to be attached to anything of this world, because none of it matters. And once I am entirely found in God, that joy and happiness will follow.
Even beyond Heaven, I belong in God. He is my hiding place, my refuge, and my shelter. He is my home, so even in this world, I can have a taste of home through Him. And I don't need anything else to satisfy me.
I took the time last night to consider my brother's life and my relationship with him for the first time in over a year. I tend to push it aside and pretend that it isn't a part of who I am, but without this event or my brother, I would not be me at all. I don't really feel the need to go into detail about our relationship. If you ask, I'll tell you, but as this is a public forum, I don't feel that it's entirely appropriate. I will say that it was a tumultuous one, as was my brother's life in general. He was just so angry and hurting. I never quite figured out why or what that had to do with me, but I did notice one glaring difference between the two of us. He didn't follow God.
Now, you can call me a Jesus freak or whatever you'd like, but it is my firm belief that God is the only way to have an abundant life. And Nate, well, he knew of God. He'd grown up in church, he learned the stories, and I think that deep down, he might've loved God in some way, but he didn't have the relationship. This difference was evident in the way he lived his entire life. Unfortunately, I am left with the regret and guilt of not ensuring his salvation. Right, I know, it was his choice. But imagine truly having no idea whether a loved one went to Heaven or Hell. I like to believe in a merciful God that sees the heart, but I don't know the final state of Nate's heart either, and I wish that I had tried harder to help him find God.
I think what breaks my heart is that Nate had so much potential. He was so smart and hilarious. He could have been a famous scientist or a famous comedian, either way, he had that charisma and genius that is so rare. And imagine if he had put that charisma and genius into the kingdom of God. He could've made such a difference. He could have had joy and happiness in Christ, but instead, he lived a hard, sad life. So short a life, but so full of pain. It shouldn't have been that way. It breaks my heart.
Now, Leroy, he was the greatest person that I ever met or will probably meet. He was so funny, loving, Godly, intelligent, etc. If the church is the body, then he was the heart. And that's how it feels without him, like we're missing our heart. I can only imagine how his four young daughters,wife, sisters, parents, nieces, and nephews feel without him. I spend a lot of time with them when I'm in PA, and I can see the heartbreak. I know how heartbroken I am, so I can't even fathom their heartbreak.
But the difference, again, between Nate's life and Leroy's was God. Leroy had this joy and happiness that I have never seen in anyone else. I know that he is rejoicing in Heaven without a doubt. Nate did not have joy or happiness, at least, not beyond the surface. God makes all the difference in this life and where we end up in the next. I have this peace with Leroy's death that I never have found with Nate's. I think it's because I know where he is and that he was ready.
I keep listening to the song "Where I Belong" by Building 429 on repeat. It basically says that this world isn't our home. We are made for Heaven, and this life is just a temporary holding place for that greater paradise. It's an important song for a couple of reasons.
Three days before Leroy died, we went to Winter Jam, where Building 429 played. It's basically a huge event with an assortment of Christian artists. It's pretty fun. But I was standing beside him during the event, and when they played "Where I Belong", I remember being in awe of his sincerity in singing the words. Like he knew that he wasn't meant for this world and that he would be home soon. After it was over, I heard him turn and say to his oldest daughter, "Lauren, this is not where I belong." He said it playfully, but I know he was serious. It's something I will never forget experiencing. I can still hear him singing the words, "All I know is I'm not home yet. This is not where I belong. Take this world, and give me Jesus. This is not where I belong." He meant it with his entire self, and I can only wish to mean that like he did.
It's also something I've been thinking a lot about lately. I see so much pain in this world, and I experience a lot of pain. Not any more than anyone else, but sometimes it gets overwhelming. No one can dispute the fact that this world is not the greatest place to live. And I remember in the midst of some of my most difficult experiences just asking God to take me away. This world is so full of suffering that it's gets exhausting. But this song inspires me so much.
I don't think that in writing the lyrics, the writers meant it to be a plea to die. No, I think it's meant to help us realize that even in this world, we can have a piece of the other world. That's what Jesus did for us. This suffering, this terrible pain, is not what we have to define our lives by. We can have the abundant life that God intended for us even before we die. We can have joy and happiness like Leroy did. And beyond abundant life here, we have hope in knowing that we haven't even made it to our home yet. One day, we will finally be where we belong. There's a reason this place is so hard to fit into; it isn't where we belong.
It gives me hope. One, because Leroy is finally where he belongs, and in that, we can rejoice. Two, because even though Nate never experienced that abundant life and may not be in Heaven, I can learn from his life. I can be different. For a long time, I let his death ruin my life. It destroyed me. But now, I realize that it should be a lesson more than anything. I want what Leroy had. I want what God has for me here, but I want to be so found in God that if I died, I would know not only that I was going to Heaven but that I would finally be going home. I don't want to be attached to anything of this world, because none of it matters. And once I am entirely found in God, that joy and happiness will follow.
Even beyond Heaven, I belong in God. He is my hiding place, my refuge, and my shelter. He is my home, so even in this world, I can have a taste of home through Him. And I don't need anything else to satisfy me.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Don't Choke
I am a horrible communicator. I really am. Yes, on paper or online, I can write, but when it comes to face to face interaction or even to being totally honest about my own feelings in any communicative form, I just can't seem to do it. I've been struggling a lot this past week for various reasons, and it's really hard for me to be open with others about it. I absolutely love listening to people and giving advice, but when it comes to talking about myself or even following the advice that I give them, again, I lack...something. I have no idea what it is that stops me.
I am the type of person that thinks all the time, about everything. So, I have plenty of time to think about how I'm feeling. Most of the time, I know exactly how I feel about things, simply because I analyze everything constantly. Theoretically, I could, at any given moment, tell you exactly what I'm feeling, but then I open my mouth and.....nothing. It's like the words get stuck somewhere or my voicebox gets disconnected from my brain temporarily. I choke. It gets really frustrating.
I wouldn't mind this so much if it weren't for the fact that communication is so key to relationships. It's one thing to be able to listen, but it's also necessary to be able to talk. It's a dialogue, a give and take. This summer, I parted ways rather viciously with a group of friends that I loved dearly. One of the problems was that they felt no intimacy with me. I was so closed off to them that they felt no connection emotionally. I could listen to them or give advice or even talk shallowly all that I wanted, but even after years of friendship with the majority of them, they still felt that they didn't know me. This, at first, made me so angry. How could they say that? Did I mean nothing to them? But then it hit me. I really was in the wrong.
My tendency is to think that by not communicating about my feelings I am being strong or less burdensome or even superior. I think, "Well, I am so strong that I don't need to talk about anything. In fact, I must be stronger than my friends, because they do talk about things. Plus, I don't want to burden anyone. My problems really aren't so big."
One, I am weaker. Strength is not in doing the safe thing. Being closed off is easy and has no risk. Strength comes through being open, being vulnerable, taking risks. So I am not strong through silence. I am weak. Two, I am not superior. This is ridiculous. Communicating has nothing to do with superiority or inferiority. Yes, it's a skill, but if I judged superiority based on ability to communicate, I would come up inferior. I really need to keep my pride in check with this. Three, without realizing it, I became even more of a burden because I withheld information. They had to work so hard to reach me, and it exhausted them, so much so that they couldn't take it anymore. If it's a true friendship, it isn't burdensome to be intimate. It's what creates the bond and keeps it strong.
Why do I say all this? Because I'm at another point where I have to make choice: be closed off as always or open myself up. I am making such good friends here at college, and I don't want to ruin more relationships by being emotionally unreachable. The problem is that, even with this strong desire to change, I don't know how to make the words come out. How do you force them out?
I guess, right now, my best and only idea about that is practice. I can't talk, because I refuse to try. I make excuses and justify my lack of communication to myself, but have I honestly tried so hard? No. Honestly, I haven't. It will just take getting over that very first face to face talk. I think in time I can develop the skill. I just don't know where to begin.
I am the type of person that thinks all the time, about everything. So, I have plenty of time to think about how I'm feeling. Most of the time, I know exactly how I feel about things, simply because I analyze everything constantly. Theoretically, I could, at any given moment, tell you exactly what I'm feeling, but then I open my mouth and.....nothing. It's like the words get stuck somewhere or my voicebox gets disconnected from my brain temporarily. I choke. It gets really frustrating.
I wouldn't mind this so much if it weren't for the fact that communication is so key to relationships. It's one thing to be able to listen, but it's also necessary to be able to talk. It's a dialogue, a give and take. This summer, I parted ways rather viciously with a group of friends that I loved dearly. One of the problems was that they felt no intimacy with me. I was so closed off to them that they felt no connection emotionally. I could listen to them or give advice or even talk shallowly all that I wanted, but even after years of friendship with the majority of them, they still felt that they didn't know me. This, at first, made me so angry. How could they say that? Did I mean nothing to them? But then it hit me. I really was in the wrong.
My tendency is to think that by not communicating about my feelings I am being strong or less burdensome or even superior. I think, "Well, I am so strong that I don't need to talk about anything. In fact, I must be stronger than my friends, because they do talk about things. Plus, I don't want to burden anyone. My problems really aren't so big."
One, I am weaker. Strength is not in doing the safe thing. Being closed off is easy and has no risk. Strength comes through being open, being vulnerable, taking risks. So I am not strong through silence. I am weak. Two, I am not superior. This is ridiculous. Communicating has nothing to do with superiority or inferiority. Yes, it's a skill, but if I judged superiority based on ability to communicate, I would come up inferior. I really need to keep my pride in check with this. Three, without realizing it, I became even more of a burden because I withheld information. They had to work so hard to reach me, and it exhausted them, so much so that they couldn't take it anymore. If it's a true friendship, it isn't burdensome to be intimate. It's what creates the bond and keeps it strong.
Why do I say all this? Because I'm at another point where I have to make choice: be closed off as always or open myself up. I am making such good friends here at college, and I don't want to ruin more relationships by being emotionally unreachable. The problem is that, even with this strong desire to change, I don't know how to make the words come out. How do you force them out?
I guess, right now, my best and only idea about that is practice. I can't talk, because I refuse to try. I make excuses and justify my lack of communication to myself, but have I honestly tried so hard? No. Honestly, I haven't. It will just take getting over that very first face to face talk. I think in time I can develop the skill. I just don't know where to begin.
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