A Time to Speak

Hoarders

2011-09-12T22:34:00.000-04:00

I don’t watch a lot of TV. If I do, it’s usually when I’m at my parents’ house, and that hasn’t been consistent in the last four years of college and one year of living overseas. But I’m home again for a three-month stretch, and there’s one show that has captured my attention. It’s a sick fascination, actually. The show is called Hoarders. Each episode shares the stories of two people who have filled their houses with stuff, usually from floor to ceiling. After watching one episode, I was so disturbed that I went and cleaned out my closet.

One show featured a woman who had over 50 dogs and cats in her house. She didn’t just love animals; you could tell she was desperately lonely. One man hadn’t been able to access certain rooms for years because they were so full. He bought a little mini-fridge to keep in his bedroom because he couldn’t get to the main refrigerator.

It seems insane, and these people often need professional help, but I realize that these hoarding tendencies usually start after people experience a significant loss. There is real pain; they cling to the past, look for security and fulfillment in objects that others would deem as worthless, unusable trash. They dumpster dive and Goodwill shop, looking for steals and deals. And their houses fill.

Hoarders interests me because it’s not a show that parodies these people’s problems. They bring in expert organizers, but they also bring psychologists to help tackle the mountains of emotional issues often linked to the mountains of possessions. They want to bring real change. The problem is, most of the time all they can offer is therapy and a team with three Got Junk? trucks.

I can’t help but liken this show to my own life, my own heart. You may have heard the analogy of our hearts being like houses, and over the courses of our lives, we accumulate things and pack them away, filling up our heart’s rooms. These could be hurts, memories—haunted or treasured—along with idols we use to fill up the emptiness. Our reconciliation to God is likened to us moving out of our “house” and Jesus moving in. We give him the keys to the house and make him Lord of our lives. Still, though he might now have keys to the front door, sometimes there are rooms locked away, areas where we just don’t want him to go. We have places in our hearts like the West Wing in Beauty and the Beast. Off limits. Too painful, too private, too compromising, too shameful. And maybe blocking the way is a whole hallway full of junk.

I watch Hoarders, incredulous at how some people exist in such squalor, but I ignore my own “house”, filled to capacity with trash. Except it’s not milk cartons, cassette tapes, clothes, knick-knacks, and animal feces. It’s fear, pain, lies, false gods, and pride. And I’m hoarding them.

The good news is, Jesus doesn’t show up with a dump truck or filter through piles of my trash, asking what to keep and what to chuck out. He knows I need healing, a deep purge of everything in me that’s not of Him. And when I truly surrender my life, I’m giving him the key to every room in my house, however painful it is, because I can finally see that he himself is all I’ve ever wanted. Those things I looked to for satisfaction and fulfillment and purpose—they don’t even come close to what He offers.

Psalm 139:23-24 says, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” I’ve read these verses many times, but Hoarders gave me a new perspective on it. I can see that therapist inch his way around mounds of boxes, or the team with protective masks as they rid a kitchen of rotten food. God searches out every hallway, every corner, and he removes the ruined clothes, the broken things, the offensive smells. He leads us in a better way.

Suddenly there’s no more room for fear, or lies, or pride; they’re replaced with the light of his presence, the depth of his detailed, specific love, the beauty of who he is.

He fills every room.

More Than Words

2011-09-10T17:55:00.000-04:00

My mom recently told me the story of how I learned to read.

“We’d be driving down the road, and with every sign we passed, you’d chime from the back, ‘What’s that say? What’s that one say?’ After a while you could sound them out without help.”

I’ve always loved words. Sometimes I’ll play this game when traveling: I’ll look out the window but I’m not allowed to read any signs. It’s really hard. I’m one of those font nerds, too; I’ll see a billboard and think, That looks familiar…oh, it’s Century Gothic. To take this obsession even further — “words” is the theme of my upcoming wedding. We’re even having a Scrabble cake.

Words play a substantial role in my life. But lately I’ve sensed God challenging me on how much emphasis I put on their meaning, especially words that I deem true about His character. If someone asked me, “So what’s God like?”, I could easily rattle off a list of His attributes: loving, faithful, holy, just, sovereign, unchanging, gracious, strong.

But do I really believe that about God? How do words lose their power and end up just marks on a page?

In his book, The Knowledge of the Holy, A.W. Tozer makes a bold claim: “The most portentous fact about any man is not what he at a given time may say or do, but what he in his deep heart conceives God to be like.” He explains that our life and choices stem from how we view God. This tells me that words true about God need to be true in my day-to-day existence, not just nice sounds coming out of my mouth or artsy fonts sprawled across my blog.

Ok, so I pick a few words and hold them up against my everyday reality.

Trustworthy. God is trustworthy, I can say that. It’s biblical. It’s true.

But if God really is trustworthy, then why do I worry? Why do I stay awake at night, plagued by what-ifs? Why do I let fear make my decisions?

Another one: powerful. I believe that, right?

Then why don’t I pray—about everything? Doesn’t he say that all things are possible with Him?

Strong.

God is strong? Then why do I use my weakness as an excuse when He’s calling me to a higher road?

Generous.

Then why don’t I ask?

Healer.

Then why do I hold my wounds up to the world’s false remedies?

Holy.

Then why do I treat sin with such a casual attitude?

Loving.

Then why do I approach His throne with anything less than confidence, secure in His love and in what Jesus did through his death and resurrection?

How do I view God? Do I see these words as His outfits, something He can put on and take off, something true about him sometimes but not at other times? Or do I see them as His very nature, as who He is?

In John 18:37, Jesus tells Pilate that “for this reason I was born, and for this reason I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” I think he means the truth about what God is like. He came to a world very confused about who God is, and he lived a life of demonstration. It’s as if he took one word at a time, and he didn’t just say them. He showed them.

“God is compassionate.” So Jesus went out and healed the blind, lame, leprous.

“God is holy.” He drove the money changers and merchants out of the temple.

“God is sovereign.” He baffled Mary and Martha by letting Lazarus die, a greater purpose in mind.

“God is loving.” He took our punishment upon himself.

Are these just words to me? Or do I see them as truth about God that I’m desperate to imitate?

I’m drawn to words, and I love that God made me this way. I can’t wait until my own children ask me about those words flying past the car window. But I’m in constant prayer that the shapely ink marks and rich sounds won’t fade into meaninglessness or render me callous to the reality they represent. I need their truths about the Living Word to shape me into His likeness and propel me into worship.

Help My Unbelief!

2011-09-07T23:01:00.001-04:00

This will be a short post, but I wanted to share something God has been speaking to me. Lately I've indulged worry and anxious thoughts, about wedding plans, about work, about my future. And Jesus was right: worrying doesn't add any hours to your life. And I'd say it ruins those hours you do have.

So I've been praying that God would help me to trust Him. I was reading in Romans 3, and verse 3 seemed a font size larger than the rest of the page.

"What if some did not have faith? Will their lack of faith nullify God's faithfulness? Not at all!"

Short yet deep.

What's it saying? God is still trustworthy even if I struggle to trust Him. His character does not change just because my feelings do. The depth and purity and fact of who He is does not depend on whether I feel it to be true or not. Thank the Lord that our lack of faith doesn't nullify His faithfulness.

Faith isn't just believing that God will do what He said He will do. It's also believing that He is who He says He is. When feelings contradict the truth of the Word, I can cry out like the father of the demon-possessed son did: "I do believe; help my unbelief!"

Every one of my days needs this reminder, that in the fluctuation of my emotions and circumstances, God is still the same.

Hope for the Change Averse

2011-07-28T20:32:00.001-04:00

I'm on the bank of the Thames watching Tower Bridge watch the tourists. Change sits beside me in the absence of Helen, my partner in crime (i.e., cooking and cleaning). I'm on our Thursday night walk alone. In about half an hour I'll return to my apartment building where my friends are not.

I know change can be good, but this change messes with me in a way I've never felt. A year passed faster than it should be allowed to, and I'm left reeling from one teary goodbye after another. I still wake up to the neighboring construction site's drills, hammers, shouts, but there's no one left to hear my noisy rants about the noise.

How strange that your entire life can change overnight.

One day you're part of a close circle of friends doing a gap year together, and the next day they're homebound on their coaches and trains and planes, and you're an intruder in your own home. (That might be a bit dramatic, and the new teams here now are great, but that's how I felt.)

Why do I fight change so much? Why is it so easy to make routine and security and comfort and familiar faces my god? Something shifts, someone leaves, and my entire world disintegrates. I'm left wondering if maybe they made up too much of my world?

Characters in the Bible experienced change, which tells me we're to expect it in our own lives. Abraham was told to move countries. Job saw everything he loved snatched away. The disciples watched their hope die on a cross. Life IS change, especially in this fallen place.

I know it's ok to mourn this loss. But I'd be fooling myself to think life stays the same. I'd be fooling myself to want that.

New seasons bring new pain. But I can see that through every loss and heart-breaking transition, God brings good things, too. And it's encouraging to remember that the same God who brought those people through their most difficult times of change is the same God who brings me through it now. I may hate the noise from the construction site, but those workers aren't just over there getting paid to make noise. They're building something. (More flats, I think.)

It's the same with us. We're not built into Christ's likeness without change, without the noise. But these words bring me comfort in the throes of change, whether the change dashes me to the floor or simply makes me sit less comfortably: "In the hands of a changeless God, I need fear no change."

"[He who fears the LORD] is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD."

Psalm 112:7

London Calling, Part 2

2011-07-20T16:11:00.004-04:00

“How was London?” Loved ones back home will ask.

How can I even begin to answer that?

These past eleven months hold much.

London is still crowded. Diverse. It was sunny most days, homesick some days. London was a lesson: how to tourist-dodge and power-walk, how to avoid Oxford Street on Saturdays, a lesson on how many people you can fit in a Tube carriage.

London was a rush.

A rush of games/crafts/songs, kids with sticky hands, tired mums, restless teens.

It was cold.

It was jigsaws at midnight, bleary-eyed breakfasts, dinner feasts kitted out with candles and cake. It was a rush of tea and probably too many biscuits.

London was a mad dash of a year gone too fast, and a quiet walk through God’s steady grace.

It was a group of strangers become friends...become family.

“How was London?” They’ll ask.

Who could give that answer justice?

But as Seonaid would say, “It was a good laugh.”

Pray Big

2011-07-08T13:32:00.006-04:00

The day before my fiance and I flew from the UK to the States for a friend's wedding, he left his passport on a train.

I got the text while shopping for a present for the bride. I stood there incredulous and teary, staring at nightgowns, as Jonny told me that the train carrying his backpack could be anywhere from central London to miles outside the city. The bag could still be tucked behind a seat, or it could be sat at any lost-and-found of any of the stations along the route. And we were leaving early the next morning for Tennessee.

The backpack also had his wallet, keys, security card granting access to his work building. Since there wasn't enough money on his travel card to get him home from work, I had to go to his office and give him cash. He walked me to an ATM; I punched in my PIN and tried to stop crying. I held out the £10, couldn't look at him. Anger was there, faintly. He's known for leaving things behind. But it was more disappointment than anything, the deepest disappointment I've known in a while.

I had to get to work, still sniffling on the bus ride back. I envy people who can hide their emotions. And I couldn't shake it, couldn't forget about it. I also envy people who can compartmentalize their emotions, put them aside. This colored everything I tried to do that day. I kept saying, "I cannot believe this is happening," over and over in my head.

Jonny called every train station on the route. He went to Waterloo, where the train terminated before going out again, and checked the ticket offices, Lost Property, and holding huts on all the platforms. Nothing. He was told that even if it was found that day, it would take about 24 hours to process through their recovery system. And we knew their security policy: any passports found must be destroyed.

The title of this article is "Pray Big", and I've said nothing about prayer yet. What's the difference between small prayers and big prayers, anyway? Maybe big prayers are those that seem most impossible to be answered. Or maybe they're the ones with the highest stakes.

My prayers that day consisted of, "Please, God. Please." That's all I found the heart to utter because I knew this was a Big Prayer. The odds of Jonny getting his passport back were close to zero. If the bag was found, it'd take too long to process. If they processed it, they'd destroy his passport.

Sadly, my Big Prayer of "Please, God" became a statement of resignation: "Jonny is not coming with me on our 10-day holiday to see my family and celebrate my friend's wedding. I'm going alone."

I know at that moment Jesus would've said to me, like he did many times to his disciples, "Where is your faith?"

Jonny resolved to take me to the airport even if we didn't find his passport. He left work and had one last chance to check Waterloo for his bag. Still at work, I walked around holding onto my phone.

It rang and I hit the answer button, dreading to hear the words that would put the last nail in the coffin of our vacation.

"Shan? I have it."

I almost dropped the phone. I started crying even harder then, pure relief plus the aftermath of being so upset all day.

"It had just been handed in when I got there," he said, "and my passport was about 20 minutes away from being destroyed." He'd managed to convince the worker not to process it through their system and just hand it over.

I suddenly felt very small. Incredibly humbled. Maybe a bit ashamed. It had looked impossible to me, so I'd decided it must be. Could I be any more arrogant? Who was I to decide what was or was not possible? Hadn't I learned yet that, with God, probability has nothing to do with possibility?

We left the next morning and had an amazing time. Although during the trip, Jonny gave me permission to ask him every hour or so, "Where's your passport? Do you have all your bags?"

I heard an anecdote on a podcast recently that fits with this experience. It may or may not be true, but the lesson resonates with me.

Alexander the Great had a trusted general in his army whose daughter was getting married. Alexander said to the general, "I'd like to help out with the cost of the wedding; ask me for an amount."

So the general wrote an amount on a piece of paper and gave it to the treasurer. The treasurer stormed off to the emperor and waved the paper at him. "Look at this! Look how much he's asked you for! Who does he think he is?"

"Give it to him," Alexander replied. He took it as a compliment. "With such an outlandish request, he shows that he thinks me both rich and generous."

That story made me ask some questions. What do my prayers say about my view of God? Do I think he's able to answer big prayers? I realized that it's glorifying to Him to pray big, to "ask for the nations", because it's saying something about how I see Him.

In the grand scheme of life, my prayer about Jonny's lost passport was a relatively small prayer. It's tempting to think that God sees it that way, too, to think, "God's busy with more important things, like war and cancer and missing children." I think that's why this answered prayer humbled me and literally drew me into worship. It wasn't that my love for God was dependent on the prayer being answered. He owes me nothing. I found myself in awe of Him, to know that Someone so great heard and answered a cry from someone so small.

I've never felt so loved.

As life carries on, I have this to hold on to: God answered my prayer. When it seems like He's distant and I feel unheard, I can remember that God answered my prayer. When a situation seems impossible, I can glorify Him by asking for the impossible.

I have learned, and am still learning, to pray big.

Written in Grammar Class, 2008

2011-01-09T16:24:00.004-05:00

For Becca, one of my favorite proper nouns.

You are a comma in my life,

You make me pause before I speak or decide without thought,

You link parts of me together and

make sense of my complicated-ness.

You are a period sometimes.

(Called a full-stop in England.)

You bring my foolishness to an end.

You make new things begin.

You're an exclamation point

adding excitement and passion

to my monotony!

You're a question mark

You make me ponder my ways

Make me think?

and give me some intonation.

Maybe you're a semi-colon;

we talk about serious stuff.

No out of place jokes;

that's for when our interactions are essays.

You're the adjective to my noun, the adverb to my verb-

bestowing clarity and helping me explain.

How many times have you edited my life?

(Author's rights.)

You say:

Don't worry about being singular.

One of these days I will make you plural.

Don't write too much in past or future tense, and

don't live in the passive voice.

Now for the prepositions:

I will call you up,

call you out,

call you over,

call you near,

call you in,

call you down,

call you through,

call you beyond.

London Calling

2010-10-09T17:11:00.007-04:00

"How's London?" Loved ones back home ask.

How does one even answer that? "British as ever"?

But six letters hold much.

London is crowded. Diverse. Sunny some days, gray most days. London is traffic. London is a park amidst a concrete sea. London is a wealthy capital and a back alley. London is a posh block of flats and a weather-worn council estate. It's a rush of adverts, a rush of faces, a rush of tea and biscuits. London is a rush. London is a mad dash for the Jubilee westbound and a quiet walk in steady rain.

London is searching, crying out for answers.

I wanted to see the world and its cultures, so I came here. I wanted to love the people of the world like God does, so I came here. I wanted to tell London that the answer is Jesus Christ. So I came here.

Six letters. But infinitely more than that.

"How's London?"

I'm finding out, slowly. This could take all year.

London City Mission

2010-07-19T23:24:00.008-04:00

So, I graduated from USF this past May, and since then I’ve been praying about my next step. Do I get a job and settle into Sarasota life? Do I try for a job somewhere else, with a change of scenery?

I decided on something that’s been on my heart since I graduated high school: mission work. I’ve wanted to join some sort of missions program since I was 18, but my parents thought it’d be wise to go to college first. Now that I’m finished, I’d like to give my time to missions for a little while before I choose a career.

In May I applied for an 11-month mission work program at an organization called London City Mission (LCM), and in June I was accepted. The program runs from September 6, 2010, until July 23, 2011. This organization has been around for 175 years and is still faithfully serving the city of London through community outreach. There are different outreach centers around the city that work with youth, the homeless, the elderly, and with society’s marginalized. Other efforts involve church planting, sports ministry, and coffee shop ministry. I’m not sure which group I’ll be placed in yet, but I’ll be assisting an already-established missionary. LCM is big on people using their gifts for the advancement of God’s kingdom, so I may even use my creative writing degree.

I’m nervous yet excited to join this team because I know God is going to stretch me and take me out of my comfort zone. It’s going to be a lot of work, and I need all of the prayers, encouragement, and emotional support I can get. Send me a loving email once in a while if you think about it: srowe2@mail.usf.edu.

For more info on London City Mission, visit www.lcm.org.uk

Life By His Words

2010-04-19T16:23:00.004-04:00

"Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" Matthew 6:27

Forgive me for my worrying, Lord; it's the opposite of trusting you. What does it mean to trust you? Worry comes in the form of feelings, and I know how easily it is to live by my feelings. I need to live by what your word says is true, not by how I feel. So...

Your word says that you take care of your people, that you know your sheep by name, that you open your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing, that you're near to all who call on you in truth, that you are gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, that you will supply all of my needs, that you are Faithful and True, that you know what I need before I ask, that you hear my cry and will answer, that you lift up those who are bowed down, that you set the prisoners free, that you open the eyes of the blind, that you watch over the sojourners, that you are more than enough for me, that if I come to you I will want for nothing, that you are the truth, that you are the owner of the earth and all that fills it, that you're the Living One who sees me, that you are the Righteous Judge, that you have paid my way into the throne room of the Most High, that you are holy and desire purity in my life, that you have loved me with an unending, perfect love, that by your blood I am cleansed and made into a new creation, that you give good gifts because you are good, that you know me and still love me, that you won't leave me, that you're coming back to claim me, and that you will be glorified forever.

God, remind me of these things when I forget. Lift my eyes to you, and may I subject my feelings to and order my life around you and the truth of your words.

Our High Calling

2010-03-18T21:50:00.009-04:00

There are tons of aspects about God that amaze me, but I want to highlight one of them. This gets me every time I read it in the Bible: how Jesus allows himself to be betrayed, mocked, beaten, and killed, and yet He is God of the universe. He hung there on the cross, dying, gasping for breath and in extreme pain, and the people who he made and formed and watched since they were little children, the people who grew up and became his enemies...those people stand there making fun of him, yelling things like, "If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross", and "He saved others; he cannot save himself."

This gets me because Jesus is the only one who ever lived who had the divine right to zap them out of existence, to call down those angel armies, to have that "I'll show you" attitude, and yet he hung there and loved them. He asked God not to hold it against them.

And yet we get up in arms when someone simply disrespects us?

I was reading a passage in 1 Peter that really challenged me. Ch. 2, verses 19-23.

"For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly. For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly."

What level of humility is this....and is it even attainable? This attitude isn't just something "nice" that's good to keep in mind. Here it says it's a calling. If we're claiming to answer the call to live a Christian life, that's major. His example that we're to follow is perfect...He's the one who had every right to revile, but He didn't. I love the end part about how he "entrusted himself to the one who judges justly." When we take revenge into our own hands, we're making ourselves the judge. But God says that vengeance belongs to Him. Can we trust him with the injustices we experience? Can we release those people to Him and ask, as Jesus did, that God would forgive them? Can we replace retaliation with prayer?

I don't think humility means living a boundary-less life or letting people walk all over us. That's not honoring to God, either. Humility is more about having a right idea about ourselves in relation to God, recognizing our sinfulness and rejoicing in His righteousness which, because he chose the road of humility which led to the cross, is now ours. Humility isn't weakness, either. It's easy to return evil for evil, right? I think it takes more God-given strength to go against something that comes naturally to us.

Humility is a funny thing though; it can't be aware of itself or else it'll cease to be. Anyone who says "I'm humble" would be considered arrogant. It's definitely a process, part of our sanctification, and not a state to be reached completely in this life.

Asking for humility is dangerous prayer to pray, but what a privilege to walk in the steps of Christ!

Ruined For Anything Less

2010-01-25T22:31:00.005-05:00

I had a dream a while ago and was recently reminded of it:

I was standing in line at the concession stand at the beach. I bought all this unhealthy food (pizza, fries, a hot dog, chips, soda, candy) with the only money I had with me, and I stood there looking at it in disgust, wishing I didn't have to eat it, but that's all there was, and I was hungry.

Then my sister came up to me and said, "Shan, what are you doing? Dad's taking us out for a really nice dinner."

I woke up thinking about it, and the word that came to mind was "settling". At that time I know that God was speaking specifically to me about a relationship in my life that needed to go; He had something much better planned. But I think it can apply to the amazing grace of God and what we're missing out on when we settle for second best (or for just plain ridiculous), whether it's with what He's called us to do, who He wants us to reach out to, the way He wants us to live our lives...

Why do we settle? We don't see beyond what's right in front of us? (I thought junk food was my only option.) Laziness? (It was easy, the concession stand was right there.) We dare to assume what is and is not possible? (I only had enough money for cheap food, not a nice dinner.) But the word says that God is able to "do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine" (Eph. 3:20), and that nothing is impossible with Him (Mark 10:27).

Sometimes our choices don't make sense in light of what He's offering.

My prayer is that we will have our eyes opened to the areas in our lives where we may be settling, as well as to what God wants to do instead. And it's more than what's in His hand or what His plans are for these little blips of time we call our lives --- it's about HIM. It's important to recognize where we may have replaced intimacy with Him with something or someone else, things that will always be infinitely less. He's beckoning us in to sit with Him at the fanciest party, an awesome feast, and we'd rather sit in the dirt outside with a Slim Jim and a can of Pringles? C.S. Lewis puts it like this: we are like "an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased." (from The Weight of Glory).

I love the phrase "ruined for anything less"; it describes how I feel about being in relationship with God. Nothing else compares... nothing and no one else can even come close. I don't want to settle because I trust that His heart toward me is good, and that He wants what's best for me in all areas of my life, in my relationships, in how I spend my time, in my thoughts, in my speech...because ultimately, what's best for me is being close to Him, and a life connected with Him is what will bring Him glory.

Known

2009-12-05T01:27:00.005-05:00

I wrote this because of how Psalm 139 helped me realize God's intimate knowledge of and care for me, which in turn helps me to trust Him.

On the beach, at dusk. I hold your thoughts about me in both hands and let them sift through my fingers, the breeze slight and not too cold, people walking over shells and seaweed and soft white, the waves a constant rhythm that breathes over the shore, in, out, in again, a pulse sent to erase footprints and make the packed sand look like the water, rippled.

I cannot get away from you.

Why do you care so much? You know when I stand and brush off your thoughts and you saw when I sat down, you know my own thoughts, ones that will stay as silenced feelings and ones that might form words---healing, hurting words. You sit beside me and you're in the canyons of this ocean and in the farthest lines of sunset, lines that stretch into black and then are exchanged for faded gray, pink, and finally the burning orange of morning, lines like my pre-printed days in your book written before I was brand new, woven in the secret place and hidden until you read aloud the first page, the first day of my life.

Don’t let me let go of you.

Tramp through this heart, cut a path through these ruins, sift through these piles of complicated sand and find that garden you’re looking for.

Battleground

2009-11-15T23:38:00.010-05:00

Tonight I went with a group from Chi Alpha and did a prayer walk around campus in a huge loop, claiming those places and people for Him, breaking strongholds, speaking life over it all. I was convicted. I haven't prayed as much for my school as I'd like to. I've been there almost every weekday for 3 and half years, and I walk everywhere, but I can't say I'm active in praying as I walk. That needs to change. I want His heart for that place. I want to see it as He does, to see the people as He does, to love them like He does...

My Chi Alpha pastor read some scripture before we went out. One part he read was in Ephesians 6, about how we don't wrestle against people, but our fight is with "rulers, authorities, spiritual forces of evil". It goes on to talk about the armor of God, and I realized that because I've heard it a lot, I've let that passage become trite/stale for me. I'll tune it out because I think I know it or, "I've already heard that, don't need to really ponder it, I get it." How prideful and foolish is that attitude? I love it when God takes something you've heard a million times and shows it to you in a new way. As my pastor read it, I just started thinking about it: "What does this really mean, and what does this look like lived out in my life?"

The belt of truth...what is that? Am I letting everything I see and hear go through a filter of truth? Am I testing those things to see if they line up with the Word? What lies have I been believing? Breastplate of righteousness....it's incredible how choosing purity, choosing right over wrong and to walk in God's ways protects your heart as well as affects other people in your interactions with them, for "out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks" (Luke 6:45). I'm not sure about the shoes one, "having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace". Maybe it means being ready to take the gospel anywhere, into your workplace or classroom, into your group of friends, or being willing to leave your comfort zone for the sake of sharing this life-altering news. The shield of faith is crucial; many things come to sabotage our trust in the Lord and the knowledge that he is good, that he is sovereign. Fiery darts... lies about God's character and heart toward us, other oppression, etc. Along with that, the helmet of salvation and sword of the Spirit (word of God) are to be taken up in all circumstances, as well as prayer and supplication. In all circumstances.

Take one look at the world and it's clear there's a battle going on, a battle for hearts. And if you claim to belong to Christ, I'd dare to say you're even more of a target. And really, what idiot walks onto a battlefield without a weapon? (Even David had a sling and some rocks. But more importantly...he believed that God was with him and greater than his enemy.)

In school I'm required to read a lot, and I get used to skimming and internalizing the main points, making quick notes in the margins. But with scripture it should be different. The Word and prayer are two of our greatest weapons. My Bible could be marked up in every color of highlighter or scribbled all over in pen, but if I haven't allowed God to mark me up with His words, to scribble all over me, to underline the things in me that need transformation, to change me in such a way that I actually think about and then live out what I'm reading, then I might as well have left the book on the shelf.

We are spoken for, covered, claimed. How would our prayers change if we really believed that God answers them? Let's take back what's His and what's ours because of Him. And let's be open to hearing and responding to His timeless truth.

God's House

2009-10-21T15:42:00.005-04:00

The other day my mom asked me what my favorite verse is. Any question beginning with “what’s your favorite” has always been hard for me to answer, maybe because I have yet to get good at decision-making in general.

But this one I knew right away. It resonates with me because I know it speaks about our purpose for living, what we were made for.

It may change, but for now my favorite Bible verse is Psalm 27:4. “One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire (or meditate) in his temple.”

I love this because it’s single-focused and whole-hearted. “I could ask of God anything but there is just one thing I want, and I choose to seek after it in all that I say and do, in every area of my life…”

That one thing? Being with God. Dwelling in his house. I’m not just here for a long weekend… I’m moving in. I’m moving back in. And there’s no rent to be paid because He’s not my landlord; He’s my Father. He made me His child and now I belong in his house. I have my own key.

At some point we all contemplate what the word “home” means to us. It changes as we get older, as we move around for jobs or school, as family dynamics switch around, or in some cases, when family falls apart. Maybe we have a concrete and secure definition of that concept at the moment, but there’s no guarantee it won’t be different tomorrow.

For me this verse offers a promise of home, one that won’t disintegrate. It’s a place of constant and faithful love, a place with community, where we are no longer orphans but children of God, His Church.

This verse isn’t just talking about heaven, either, or being with God after we die. “All the days of my life…” That’s today. This God-conscious life starts here, now. It’s an every moment thing of following Him, discovering who He is, offering each breath and bit of energy as that which will bring Him glory. I’m convinced God can be found in the mundane, every-day routine as well as those moments we’d consider dots on our timelines, the ones that stick out as significant. “To gaze upon the beauty of the LORD”… that’s everything true about God that elicits praise from us. And “beholding is becoming…” We begin to look like whatever it is we’re looking at.

It’s easy, really, if I can position my heart in the right way. Am I breathing? Yes. Then I can praise Him. Is He worthy of it? Yes. And I will choose to walk through the open door into His house.

What's in Your Hand?

2009-09-23T23:41:00.004-04:00

Tonight I stood in my pantry and stared at the shelves. Stared in my fridge and freezer, too, really hungry. I went through a mental list of every bit of food to my name, trying different combinations in my head and wondering what on earth to make for dinner. Everything I could think of needed an extra ingredient that I didn’t have. Fight traffic and go to the store? Or improvise? I wasn’t in the mood for traffic, so I crushed some Ritz crackers, grabbed eggs, spices, and my frozen chicken, along with fresh green beans and some penne pasta, garlic, olive oil… Nothing super fancy, just your standard breaded chicken, obligatory vegetable, and the carbs… but I was pretty proud of myself at the end. I spent no extra money and used what I had to create something good.

That ordeal reminded me of Scrabble, which I’ve been playing lately. Us Scrabble nerds understand the “do what you can with what you have” idea. (I swear there’s this phenomenon where whoever gets the Q won’t see a U for the whole game. And I can't count how many times I’ve been stuck with all three evils...Q, X, and Z. Awesome if you can use them on a triple letter, but if it’s down to the end and that’s all you’ve got left…)

Anyway. Just seven letters to work with, and if you’re playing on a certain site online, you’re only given two minutes to make a word. The computer won’t listen to your whines (“I have a Q but no U!”); it’ll just skip you. You have to do what you can with what you have.

I think this applies to life as well. Maybe God is asking us to do something, and we’ll make excuses… “She’s the one with that gift, God. I can’t do that…” “I’ll give money/time when I actually have some to spare.” Such a wrong view of thinking!

Besides that, it’s tempting, and maybe natural to our humanness, to compare ourselves to other people. It’s been a constant prayer of mine that I would be freed from that. I really think it grieves God’s heart, first of all. Whether my comparison is in my favor or in the other person’s (putting them down or putting myself down), my evaluation of His handiwork is faulty. And His dream for my life, His vision of how I fit into His plan for the world, is not the same as the one he has for someone else. Whatever gifts, talents, abilities, and responsibilities he’s given to others is none of my concern. I’m called to be a faithful steward of what He’s given me…not compare and complain. Think about the three servants in Matthew 25, each given a certain amount of money. The master commends the first two, saying, “You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much.” But the third one acts in fear, not knowing the true heart of his master, and what he has is taken away. And what about that second guy? He didn't freak out, "Hey, you gave the first guy ten talents and you only gave me five?" He did what he could with what he had and was blessed.

Perhaps if we stop lamenting that we're not adequate, maybe we'll actually be able to hear God ask us like he asked Moses, "What's that in your hand?" ("What's that in your pantry/fridge/freezer?" "What letters do you have?") It's when we dare to do what we can with what we have that the mishmash of ingredients turns into an actual meal and that random group of letters becomes a brilliant, never-saw-that-coming word. It's then that our "little" becomes "much", and things start to happen. Big things, too, like teenage shepherds killing giants with a stone or nations being set free.

This isn't a call to put confidence in self. It's a call to trust that God knows what He's doing, to take responsibility for what He's given us or placed in our hearts to do, and then do it.

Rocks

2009-09-10T23:38:00.009-04:00

Recent discussions with friends have challenged me to think about stories like Job's. After he loses his livelihood, all ten of his children, his health, and then gets to hear his wife's bitter demand that he should just curse God and die, Job gives the most astounding and mature answer: "Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive disaster?" He seemed to understand something about God that everyone else around him missed, something that even Satan figured Job didn't grasp: the nature and character of God do not change as our circumstances do. Whether we're walking in a daydream or living in a nightmare, the reality is that He is a constant we can cling to, a foundation to build on, a refuge. It seems like Job is saying, "Since this is who God is, we actually have a chance of surviving the hard times."

Along with that is Job's trust in His sovereignty, which, if you read the end of the story, definitely grows once God has spoken his piece. Job's words go from "Where are you, God?" to "Who am I?" and "Great are You!" Job didn't just sit quietly and internalize his anguish (he certainly let God hear it), but his eyes are opened to the greatness and wisdom of the Creator of all things, and he could truly believe that God's way is the best way. In that moment, he was drastically humbled. "I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you..."

I read in a book the other day that we should take all of the rocks --- all of the hard things --- in our lives and build an altar to the Lord with them, offer even those things as worship to God. In essence, this is how Job's story ends. He was able to truly see the Lord as He is and worship Him for it, despite his pain and without any promise that his life would be restored, even doubled, which it was anyway.

So I'm asking myself this question: As I go through the hard times, am I seeing God clearly, in truth of who He is...and am I praising Him for it? Do I demand only good from Him, or do I trust Him to bring me through the bad, since He remains the same on either road?

I can only pray to be brought to that level of living, trusting, and knowing. Still a work in progress....

The Picture

2009-08-29T16:47:00.005-04:00

So, "Healer" by Hillsong came on this morning.

The song emphasizes how God is our healer, that we can trust Him, and that nothing is impossible for Him. He holds our world in His hand. But a few of the lyrics beat some meaning into me: "You're more than enough for me...Jesus, you're all I need."

We hear that all the time, right? At church, in our circles of friends…I probably write it in every entry.

Do we truly mean that?

I mean, what do we want? What do we really want?

You can answer that by looking at how you spend the majority of your free time, what you think about, what you put your life into. Motives, too. Not just what you want, but why do you want it?

I was reminded of a picture I'd had about a year ago. It wasn't a vision really, just a scene in my mind's eye. But it had stopped me from whatever I'd been doing and crashed into my mind. I couldn't scribble it into my journal fast enough.

In the picture I’m sitting on my bed in my room. (My room is like my sanctuary or haven. Even my sister knows not to come into it without knocking and getting permission.) So in the picture, I knew it represented my heart. Suddenly the door opens without a knock, and a bunch of people come in. They’ve got guitars and cameras and all kinds of stuff. They don’t acknowledge me; they just come in and sit in my chair, get on my computer, start playing music and taking pictures, talking and joking around with each other, making themselves at home. Still no one looks at me.

The room is now crowded. At this point I know who they are; I recognize each person as one I’d put my hope in, put in the place where only the Lord should be in my life. I’d looked to them to satisfy me, to meet needs that God alone can fill. It’s an assortment of people, friends, family members, guys…

I sit there watching them, heartbroken at the number of them, still holding onto a few hurts because they’d never been able to fill those places in me. I’m not saying that we don’t need people in our lives; we certainly do. But I’d given importance and priority to them in various areas, places which should’ve only belonged to God.

Then Jesus shows up in the doorway, and he’s looking straight at me. This may sound cheesy or cliché or whatever, but I don’t know how else to describe it… Sitting on my bed and looking at him looking at me, I knew that he was all I wanted. All I’d ever wanted. More than I’d ever wanted, more than I knew I was ever capable of wanting.

He turns to go, but he looks over his shoulder and says quietly, yet I hear it over the noise of the room, “You coming?”

I don’t even think. I jump down from my bed and shove my way through the people and sprint out the door after him. And I don’t look back.

I was thinking about what people want, what we look for. It’s not hard to come up with an answer. Look at people’s lives. Look at the movies that sell. Look at the news.

I want, too. But you know what I want more than those things? I want to be able to say, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” with absolute honesty. I want to know, truly know, that He’s enough. I want to be ok with being single for the rest of my life, as long as I have the intimacy with God I was made for. I want to be ok with never traveling again, as long as I know he’s got my world in his hands.

I'm not advocating killing our desires; I know God puts certain ones in us for a reason. I'm simply realizing that we have this mindset where we don't trust Jesus to come through, that we don't believe he really can meet our every need.

“You’re more than enough for me.” I want to know what that means, what that looks like lived out. I want it to be true of me.

Up the Sunbeam

2009-08-19T23:43:00.012-04:00

Self-pity is a trap, a downward spiral. And it's such a LIE. I've caught myself lately entertaining thoughts that should have no place in my life, thoughts focusing on the negative things going on. And although there's nothing wrong with taking our burdens to the Lord and being honest with Him, it's a problem when it becomes a whining party of complaint and woe-is-me.

So again with my list-making.

For That Which I am Thankful:

relationship with God

family that loves me

friends

health

bed

shelter

clean water

enough food

showers

living in a place where I can freely worship God

use of my senses

ability to walk

breath in my lungs

education and the chance to further it

people's prayers

truth

church

books

opportunities to travel

memories/experiences

ability to speak

my own room

May this list grow every single day of my life.

"Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise." Psalm 100:4

I read this verse and I picture thanksgiving as a literal key that opens His gates. So think about what's at stake here: experiencing the presence and peace of God. We can't enter his presence with an ungrateful attitude or while we're wallowing in self-pity. Is our pity-party worth such a loss?

"Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever." Psalm 118:1

If only we could come to a place where we could sincerely say with gratitude that no matter our circumstances, God has not changed; he is good and he always will be. I'm grateful that the Lord is not corrupt, cruel, egotistical, a liar... He is GOOD.

These blessings God graces our lives with are not just to make us happy. Gratitude is an opportunity to praise God for who He is. In his Letters to Malcolm Chiefly on Prayer, C.S. Lewis wrote, "I have tried...to make every pleasure into a channel of adoration. I don't mean simply by giving thanks for it. One must of course give thanks, but I meant something different... Gratitude exclaims, very properly, 'How good of God to give me this.' Adoration says, "What must be the quality of that Being whose far-off and momentary coruscations (sudden, striking displays of brilliance) are like this!' One's mind runs back up the sunbeam to the sun..."

I pray this encourages you to thank God for the blessings you've received and to wonder at the type of Being He is to have created them. Don't fall into the trap of self-pity. Cling to the truth of who God is, and thank him for it.

Making Plans

2009-08-08T22:34:00.005-04:00

Jeremiah 29:11. "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

I'm going to be really blunt in this post. I have had the hardest time with that verse for as long as I can remember. I hear it and I have cynical, skeptical thoughts. I criticize the one who quotes it, saying "They're taking it out of context. That verse was written to exiles in Babylon; it was meant for a specific people at a specific time."

I read it last night and those thoughts started again. "It's so overused, it's lost its meaning, and frankly, it doesn't seem true." I was pretty honest with God, telling Him that I just can't believe it. I thought about the hard things I've gone through. I thought about the devastations some of my family and friends have endured. Their loved ones dying at a young age. Incurable cancer. What do those things have to do with a future and a hope? "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you"? Dying seems pretty harmful to me.

So last night I read it with my usual frame of mind, wondering why I was even in Jeremiah 29. (You hear "Jeremiah 29" and automatically think of verse 11, right?) But as I read it, everything changed. I LOVE how God speaks through His word.

I heard His thoughts in my own: "This verse isn't about you, you're right. But it's not about the exiles either."

He stopped there, but it hit me so hard. That verse is about Him and his character. He showed me that even if those words weren't directed at me specifically, that is what He is like. He is a God who makes plans for His people. That verse is not about the exiles and their futures, their hope...it's about the kind of God who plans and dreams and wants what's best for His people, who sends a message to them in their exile, when they're furthest away from any type of normalcy or safety or comfort. It's about the kind of God who wants us to seek Him and find Him, the kind of God who promises He will hear when we cry out.

Yeah, so that passage doesn't have a "Dear Shannon" in front of it. But He said those words and meant them. That's who He is.

If we could read the Bible while remembering that God is the main character, not us, it would mean what it's supposed to mean. It's all about Him and who He is. Jesus didn't just come to die for us; he says in John 18:37, "For this reason I came into the world, and for this I was born, to testify to the truth..." He came to clear up our notions of God, to show us the truth of who He really is. He showed that with His life.

God said those things about a group of people one time, but He doesn't change. His heart is the same. He's got us in His hands. And we've got to realize that although circumstances may look bleak and hopeless in this fallen world, He can and will use them for good and bring us forth as gold. Even if our hope and future pertains to heaven and not on this earth, that's a hope and future that we don't deserve and is more than enough.

Filled to Be Emptied

2009-08-07T00:27:00.003-04:00

I was looking through my old journals and read a post from March of this year. I'd been in Greece a month. It caught my eye because it mentions something I'd been talking about with a friend about half an hour ago. She'd asked me what some of my goals were, what I want to do, and we got to talking about justice issues like abortion and human trafficking and the poverty in the world, both physically and spiritually. We talked about our trips to Russia and India, how things seen there just broke our hearts. I talked about how I don't understand why I am safe in a free country, blessed beyond belief, in an amazing house with a loving family (we have our issues, but who doesn't?). I made it into this world without being aborted. I was never abused. I was never sold to a brothel at age 8. Why me, here, and why them, there, and in those situations?

This is what I'd written in March:

I know you hold the world in your hands and that you have determined the times and places where we should live. I just don't understand why I have this life and they have that one. Why have you blessed me so tremendously? These thoughts are tearing me up. How would you have me spend my time on this earth? I want to help and to bless those who need help. "I know I'm filled to be emptied again / this seed I've received I will sow" -- Desert Song, Hillsong.

The only answer I can think of for why I'm here, with this life, and not there, with that life, is because I'm meant to help in some way, to show the love I've been shown, to give what I've been given. And this doesn't necessarily mean I'm supposed to go to other countries. America is a place of darkness just like the rest of the world, a place desperately in need of the pure and transforming love of God.

My prayer is that I can take every blessing I've received and pour it back out as an offering to the Lord that really counts, that really moves his heart. And people are on his heart. The oppressed and brokenhearted are on his heart.

We have nothing that has not been given to us. I hope this encourages you to take inventory of what you've been blessed with and to seek God's heart on how you can use it to bless someone else.

Let Justice Roll Down

2009-08-06T22:18:00.007-04:00

One of my best friends gave me some verses last night that ripped into me... Isaiah 1:11-17.

"What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices? says the Lord; I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams and the fat of well-fed beasts; I do not delight in the blood of bulls, or of lambs, or of goats. When you come to appear before me, who has required of you this trampling of my courts? Bring no more vain offerings; incense is an abomination to me. New moon and Sabbath and the calling of convocations- I cannot endure iniquity and solemn assembly. Your new moons and your appointed feasts my soul hates; they have become a burden to me; I am wear of bearing them. When you spread out your hands, I will hide my eyes from you; even though you make many prayers, I will not listen; your hands are full of blood. Wash yourseslves; make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your deeds from before my eyes; cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow's cause."

I'm not sure what I'll be doing later in life. One thing I know I will not do: get comfortable in a half-hearted, tepid walk labeled "Christianity", where I do just enough to get by or to appease my conscience. The church needs more than tradition and ceremony, more than a shallow "hey, how are you?". The world needs more than "here's a tract and some spare change." Not that those things are wrong, but if the heart behind it is not sincere, if it's not done out of love, then it's trash, less than nothing, like Paul says in 1 Corinthians.

Another passage I love: Micah 6:6-8.

"With what shall I come before the LORD,
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?"
He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the LORD require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?

In every action and thought and word, my heart has got to have pure motives. I wanna be genuine. What's worse than turning your back on someone who needs help? I'd venture to say, helping them in pretense or just to look good in front of other people. Pour yourself out for others in sincerity, or don't pour yourself out at all.

People see what we do; God sees why we do it.

Living Water

2009-07-27T23:50:00.003-04:00

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." - C.S. Lewis

On Thursday nights I attend/help my mom out with a high school girls Bible study for my sister and her friends. We're doing Beth Moore's Breaking Free, one that I'd done a few years ago. There's "homework" every day, and then during our meeting we discuss what we've learned and then watch a teaching by Beth. It's a really good study, focusing on issues like actually knowing and enjoying God, finding satisfaction in Him, having our broken hearts healed, and breaking off generational sins and letting those idols stop with us. It applies Scripture to everything.

Last Thursday, Beth's teaching was about the Samaritan woman at the well --- a familiar story, but she spoke about it in a way that I'd never thought of before. She points out how Jesus always gave his name in context of the need. When the people were hungry, he fed the 5,000 and then said, "I am the bread of life." When Lazarus was dead and he was comforting the sisters, he said, "I am the resurrection and the life." And when the woman at the well came to draw water, he explained how if she knew who he was, she could've asked him for "living water" and never thirst again.

Beth found it interesting that he uses water as his metaphor. In the video she did an illustration with two vases: one she filled with things like Cheetos, toy cars, money, a picture, a little scarf, all to represent the things we try to stuff into our lives to satisfy us and make us happy. When it's all said and done, though, as she held up the vase, it's obvious that there are still empty spaces.

The second vase she simply fills with water. She points out how water is the only substance that will fill every crevice and space, how it reaches to the farthest place and can get into the tiniest hole. In the context of the Samaritan woman, broken as she was with five failed marriages, always searching to have her heart filled, Jesus was showing her exactly what she needed: Himself.

This lesson struck me so hard. How many times do I search for things other than Jesus to satisfy me? Jeremiah 2 gives God's lament about how we His people "have committed two sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water."

What am I stuffing into the vase of my soul? What are you trying to shove into yours?

Entertainment?
A relationship?
Money, material things?
Your reputation?
Pornography?
A job?
Food?

What would it look like to forsake those broken cisterns and return to the Lord wholeheartedly? How many other lives would be changed in the process?

I pray that we all will have the courage to smash our idols and go back to the River of life, because He is the water that is truly alive and truly able to sastify our thirst. We can try everything else on this earth, but I know at my core that we were made for Jesus Christ and Him alone. I'm grateful that nothing else satisfies.

Dear You

2009-07-17T18:17:00.001-04:00

Dear boy,
I hope you live your life like one. I hope you love adventure and love to get dirty, to make things explode and to take the more dangerous road, to explore, to risk and learn from failure, to risk and taste success. Let your heart be colored by discovery.

Dear girl,
I hope you live your life like one. I hope you get dressed up and all pretty-fied sometimes, and other times you'll take that dangerous, dirt-covered road with the boys. I hope you realize your own worth and recognize that simply because you're a woman, you are truly beautiful. Don't be afraid to be you. Let your heart be colored by a genuine radiance.

Dear warrior,
I hope you live your life like one. I hope you fight for those you love, persist despite the weariness, and don’t take your times of rest for granted. I hope you hate injustice. I hope you carry yourself with honor and yet know the meaning of true humility, realizing that meekness does not equal weakness, but rather a strength unknown to most. Let your heart be colored by courage.

Dear sinner,
I hope you live your life like one forgiven. I hope you extend grace to others, knowing that you don’t deserve the grace they extend to you. I hope you can let go of your pride and see yourself through the Lord’s eyes – as one worth nothing and yet as one worth dying for. I hope you find the secret of living life on your knees. Let your heart be colored by truth and second chances.

Dear friend,
I hope you live your life like one. I hope you know the value of honesty and trust. I hope your laughter outweighs your arguments or petty issues, and that you have open eyes and an open heart to other people’s pain. I hope you pick up your phone in the middle of the night. I hope you listen more than you talk and give more than you take. Let your heart be colored by the test of time and shared memories.

Dear lover,
I hope you live your life like one. I hope you share your deepest fears and biggest dreams without fear of being betrayed or not being good enough. I hope you give all of you and leave your hesitations behind. I hope you can trust, let go of hurt, and can start new each day. Let your heart be colored by forgiveness.

Dear you,
I hope you live your life.

A Little Q and A

2009-07-14T22:44:00.004-04:00

For the past few nights, my sister has come into my room right when I'm about to go to bed. She flings herself on my bed, takes up all of the room, and then drinks my water from the cup that sits on my nightstand. As I'm typing this, she found a letter on my floor, pulled it out of the envelope, and started reading it. I stared at her and said, "Um, yeah, what are you doing? You don't just read people's mail."

So tonight I decided to write an entry interviewing her. This is dedicated to little sisters everywhere.

Q and A with Caylie:

Me: What do you like about being the little sister?
Cay: I guess you could say I get attention. And for some weird reason, I like how Brandon (older brother) manipulates me, because I'm smaller than him.

Me: What do you dislike?
Cay: You get blamed for everything, and you're the only one at home, so you have to do everyone else's chores, because everyone else is working and they have a car.

Me: What is one of your best memories with your older brother or sister?
Cay: When me and Brandon were walking through the woods and he started making this nasty bird call, and I got it on tape, and it was hilarious. Also, when I'm in your room rolling on the floor laughing uncontrollably for no reason while you're trying to go to bed.

Me: What is some advice you would give to older brothers and sisters concerning how they relate to their younger siblings?
Cay: We look up to you more than you think we do. We're bothering you because we want your approval. Maybe our actions are obnoxious or annoying, but it's really because we want to be around you and be like you (depending on the age difference, of course.) So, have patience with us and realize that we watch everything you do.

Me: If you had a little sister 7 years younger than you, how would your view of older sisters change, if at all?
Cay: Well, I wouldn't want to be you, because I'm obviously obnoxious. I would have to give her attention, while I'm actually the one needing attention from you. So, no.

Me: No, what?
Cay: Just no. Eww. That's disgusting. That's never happening. I'm not even going to hypothetically picture that happening. No.

Me: What's your earliest memory of your brother/sister?
Cay: I just remember in Virginia, when I would follow you and Brandon and the neighbor kids around, playing on the trampoline and rope swing. Also, sledding down the front yard.

Me: You just got water on my bed. And I'm going to bed now.

Colors

2009-07-12T00:08:00.009-04:00

I'm a list girl, so here's one I'd like to express.

Things That Color My World (in no particular order):

music, train rides, bus rides through parts of a city I've never seen before, God and his steady love, kids, the logic of kids, postcards, emails, lists, lists from friends, reading rock-your-world verses that change you from that moment on, making adventures out of the mundane, traveling, going home, honest talks, meeting new people who turn out to be amazing, cold milk, experimental cooking, the harmony part, innocence, getting under warm blankets when the room is freezing, learning from mistakes, watermelon in the summer, finishing projects, reading a book so captivating that you lose track of time, taking pictures of random and beautiful things/people/places, tackling my sister, riding a bike, being spared from disaster and finding out about it later, wearing jackets in autumn, playing with people's hair, learning about other cultures, Nutella, falling asleep listening to rain and/or thunder, acoustic guitars, dreaming about those I miss, the second day of school, swing sets, brand new notebooks, truth, driving on the back roads, Disney princess blankets, lit fireplaces in the winter, people-watching, going out on the river/lake/bay/ocean, changing seasons, foreign languages, how every sunset and snowflake is different, free samples, standing right where the waves can just reach my toes, balconies, pineapple juice, the smell of new books/new shoes, words like posh and savvy, non-verbal communication, mercy, cats that sit on you, pretty names, laughing, good lyrics, field trips, mountains, having a part in changing the world, spaghetti, Hillsong, cutting words and pictures out of magazines to make your friend's birthday card, flowers and rain and the green of spring, a favorite worn-out pair of jeans, that moment right before you fall asleep, hoodies, lying on the ground looking at the stars, Text Twist, sledding, finding someone with common interests, Pixar movies, forests, every tree in the whole world actually, bookstores and libraries, singing in the shower, ping pong, snacks, sitting barefoot on a dock, Francine Rivers, writing that poem that says just what it needs to say, symphonies, hunting for incredible graffiti, waterfalls, full journals, BBC's Planet Earth, sincerity, finding an ordinary thing sacred, Reese's peanut butter cups, having a family that loves you, clothes right out of the dryer, rolling the windows down when you drive on a bridge, obeying the Lord, starting a new book, turning to the book's last page, closing the book and sitting lost in thought about it, ugly brown comfortable chairs, teaching 6 year-olds to play chess, answered prayers, Swedish fish, C.S. Lewis, pomegranates, ticket stubs, knowing that others are praying for you, and crayons, because I'm literal.

Honestly

2009-07-09T22:35:00.004-04:00

Lately I've been thinking about what it means to speak the truth in love. I don't think that means to point out other people's shortcomings in a sweet tone of voice. Maybe someone asks my opinion and I actually give it instead of sugar-coating it or telling them what I think they wanted to hear. (Some of us give our opinions way too easily, even when they weren't asked for:) Or maybe I need to confront someone with a problem I have with them. I'm not the most confrontational type, but I'm getting better at speaking up when things need to be said. Still, I think it's easier to confront someone with truth than to have someone confront me with it.

The truth can hurt.

Ok, understatement.

The truth can shatter your whole world, take you from walking safe up on your palace walls to sitting among its rubble and covered in its dust, handfuls of it in your fists. But sitting there brings the realization that it can be rebuilt, that it's meant to be raised up again on the right foundation, Jesus Christ, who is the Truth himself. Like the difference between the houses built on rock and sand. Maybe that house built on sand needed to come down under winds of truth so it could be built again, this time on the rock.

So yeah, truth can hurt, but I love its freedom. Truth can expose, but it makes the darkness become light. Truth is never meant to cruelly humiliate but has love at its heart, desiring something better for us --- sincerity and purity, transparency and a free, true life, the way we were meant to live. Truth desires that we grow up, be set apart, and walk in righteousness before our God. Truth cleanses.

Oh that we would have the humility and maturity to hear truth when it's spoken to us...that we would have the courage to implement it into our lives and apply it to how we live. That's where growth happens and chains fall off. That's where lies are silenced and we learn what it means to walk as He walked. Then love can happen, because there can be no intimacy without honesty.

Glow Stick

2009-07-08T00:16:00.006-04:00

When I was a little kid I went roller-skating at a skating rink, and I came home with one of those glow sticks that doesn't light up until you snap it. It lasts for a few hours, but after a while it loses its neon glow.

I didn't know this before I cracked it. So I'm in my living room with my lit-up glow stick, and my mom sees it. "Oh that's cool, Shan. Those last for a few hours, right?"

I freaked out. I seriously started crying (I'm laughing as I type this because it's so ridiculous) and lay on the couch, upset that the light wouldn't last. My mom tried to point out the logic of playing with the glow stick now before it stopped glowing, but my logic was, Why play with it if it's not going to last?

This wrong way of thinking isn't unique to the minds of kids. Yesterday I had the day off of work, the remnant of the Independence Day weekend. But it went by too fast, and I sat there thinking about how I seemed to be wasting my day off instead of enjoying it, focusing on how it was disappearing instead of actually living it out. All the things I wanted to do that day --- make a smoothie, go read my book in my favorite bookstore downtown, walk the bridge, walk the beach, drive somewhere, anywhere --- I only got to do one of them because I wasted a lot of time lamenting my lack of time.

That's when I remembered the glow stick. The ridiculousness is the same. Why do we do this? Miss out on now because we're consumed with how now becomes then? Life slips away when you try to cling to it. A life is made up of years, consisting of months, made up of weeks, made up of days, made up of hours....minutes....seconds....a moment. What would it look like to walk out that sadly cliched phrase, "Live life to the fullest?" What does that even mean?

For me, I think it means letting my yes be yes and my no be no. To be decisive, to quit analyzing every little thing and just go DO it. To actually finish the things I start. To trade worry, which is basically saying, "God, I don't trust you" for a confidence in Him, knowing that it's not by might, nor by power, but by His spirit. And to have the perspective that this moment is the only one of its kind, never to be repeated, and that I'm allowed to enjoy it, or learn from it, or plod through it with His guidance. Of course that moment won't last. This life isn't meant to! But it's certainly meant to be lived.

Change of Heart

2009-07-06T22:20:00.002-04:00

There's a verse in Ecclesiastes 3 that says, "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven..." and one of them states, "A time to keep silence, and a time to speak."

For me, it's time to speak.

Writing is a form of catharsis for me...it's how I process thoughts, feelings, life. I generally tend to be private with my words, though, mostly because I don't like to write fluff --- I have to write the truth, and I never really learned how to write truth without making it too personal or sharing too much.

I don't like to be the center of attention. Sometimes compliments make me uncomfortable. My point here is, for so long I would have something important to say but I'd hesitate to say it or write it because I didn't want feedback, positive or negative. I've cared for so long what people think; I've worried what kind of opinion of me my writing will form in other people's minds. I didn't want to be seen as immature, foolish, arrogant, attention-seeking, too spiritual, self-righteous...whatever else. So now I ask myself, is that what I think of others when they share something God is doing or saying in their lives? If not, why would I assume that's what others will think of me?

I know there's a balance here; some things are not meant to be shared.

But some are. And I've wrestled with excuses for a long time. Today I couldn't get this out of my head, probably because I watched a movie yesterday ("Akeelah and the Bee") and was struck by a quote in it by Marianne Williamson: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same."

Who am I to hide the gifts God has given me? Those gifts were never meant to bring glory to myself. They've always been for His sake.

So here begins my obedience, and there goes the fear. I will write heedless of what others deem true of me, because this has never been about me. I will write for the fame and glory of Jesus Christ, to be obedient when he wants me to share something, and perhaps to bring a little light, life, or love to other people.

Lord, give me wisdom on when to keep silent and when to speak.