Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Friday, January 24, 2014
The only title I can think of it terrible..so I'll keep it to myself.
I received a great reminder tonight: being a believer is not supposed to be easy. Paul told us that, "We must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God."(Book of Acts...somewhere in Chapter 14, right around when he got stoned. Yeah, that happened...ouch.)
It's not that I expect it to be easy. But sometimes, I feel like it's too hard. Like I'm a terrible Christian because it's hard. I forget that it's supposed to be hard. It's when it's easy that I'm probably doing things wrong, hat I need to take a step back and look at where I'm becoming complacent or lazy.
Because it's supposed to be hard.
It's so, so true that comparison steals joy. I am constantly guilty of comparing myself to other Christians, saying, "Gosh, they're so good at this whole thing. I'm so terrible at it. They must be a better Christian than I am! Hurry, act like I'm a good Christian so that they don't find out I totally stink at this!" The truth is, we're all bad Christians and we're all good Christians, every single one of us, all the time. I, along with every other human, will constantly fall short in every possible way. Which is where Jesus steps in, filling in the gaps, perpetually forgiving my errors, and overall shoring me up with eternal grace. By pretending that I can be perfect all by myself, I steal from the amazing sacrifice that Jesus made. I forget that I need God and try to do everything on my own, which is when things really get hard.
I want to revel in the hardships, because that's when I realize how much I need God. In addition, it's when we work hard that we realize what matters and what doesn't. Nothing easy is worth it in the end.
It's not that I expect it to be easy. But sometimes, I feel like it's too hard. Like I'm a terrible Christian because it's hard. I forget that it's supposed to be hard. It's when it's easy that I'm probably doing things wrong, hat I need to take a step back and look at where I'm becoming complacent or lazy.
Because it's supposed to be hard.
It's so, so true that comparison steals joy. I am constantly guilty of comparing myself to other Christians, saying, "Gosh, they're so good at this whole thing. I'm so terrible at it. They must be a better Christian than I am! Hurry, act like I'm a good Christian so that they don't find out I totally stink at this!" The truth is, we're all bad Christians and we're all good Christians, every single one of us, all the time. I, along with every other human, will constantly fall short in every possible way. Which is where Jesus steps in, filling in the gaps, perpetually forgiving my errors, and overall shoring me up with eternal grace. By pretending that I can be perfect all by myself, I steal from the amazing sacrifice that Jesus made. I forget that I need God and try to do everything on my own, which is when things really get hard.
I want to revel in the hardships, because that's when I realize how much I need God. In addition, it's when we work hard that we realize what matters and what doesn't. Nothing easy is worth it in the end.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
On Being Single...fast forward
Almost two years ago, at the beginning of this blog, I wrote a post about my feelings regarding being single. They weren't so great. I waxed lyrical on my desire to be a couple, have a partner, so on and so forth. It's times like this that I realize how incredibly smart I am to keep a blog (patting myself on the back). Seriously, though, one thing that I really struggle with is taking a step back from myself and seeing the way that God is working in my life to change me. Comparing the blog post from two years ago to the one that I am preparing to write right now, though, really allowed me to see the changes so clearly. I cannot express in words how grateful I am to have a loving God that is willing to work within me and that allows forces me to grow and mature. Any-who. Onto my new and improved views on being single.
Honesty disclaimer: I still want to get married! It's still my greatest desire in this life. Sometimes I see a baby, and my ovaries weep with jealousy*. Just so that's clear.
*Thanks for that awesome phrase, Joanna. Since I read it on your blog, I think I've used it at least 100 times to describe various situations. I love it. It's so eloquent!
Honestly, though, in the past few years I have found so many things to be joyful about while being single. Mostly, time. I love that my time is my own and I love the ways that I have dedicated that time. I love that I have the time to cultivate deep, lasting, loving friendships, both new and old. I love that I can spend a whole weekend with Laura or hours sitting in a Starbucks chatting with a new friend. I love that I can sit and read books for a whole day...or more. I know it seems backwards, but I love that I can throw myself wholeheartedly into my work. The other day, I worked several hours longer than I had intended. I was productive, I was engaged, and I felt accomplished afterwards. While I still think about having a family--often--I find myself more at peace than ever before with where I'm at right now. I'm being productive with this time: I'm growing. I'm growing as a Christian, as a woman, and as a professional. Just as often as I pray for a family someday, I give thanks for this time and these opportunities. I also give thanks that it's God running the show because I seriously would have screwed the pooch by now. Never in my life have I been so happy to trust in the Lord and His direction for my life. And never in my life have I truly trusted, as I do in this moment, that God has the perfect plan for me and that, regardless of my actions, it will come to fruition.
I've had a lot to be thankful for lately. Right now, I'm thankful that I have the opportunity to see the growth in myself. It gives me the encouragement that I often need when I feel discouraged or overwhelmed or just plain weak.
Honesty disclaimer: I still want to get married! It's still my greatest desire in this life. Sometimes I see a baby, and my ovaries weep with jealousy*. Just so that's clear.
*Thanks for that awesome phrase, Joanna. Since I read it on your blog, I think I've used it at least 100 times to describe various situations. I love it. It's so eloquent!
Honestly, though, in the past few years I have found so many things to be joyful about while being single. Mostly, time. I love that my time is my own and I love the ways that I have dedicated that time. I love that I have the time to cultivate deep, lasting, loving friendships, both new and old. I love that I can spend a whole weekend with Laura or hours sitting in a Starbucks chatting with a new friend. I love that I can sit and read books for a whole day...or more. I know it seems backwards, but I love that I can throw myself wholeheartedly into my work. The other day, I worked several hours longer than I had intended. I was productive, I was engaged, and I felt accomplished afterwards. While I still think about having a family--often--I find myself more at peace than ever before with where I'm at right now. I'm being productive with this time: I'm growing. I'm growing as a Christian, as a woman, and as a professional. Just as often as I pray for a family someday, I give thanks for this time and these opportunities. I also give thanks that it's God running the show because I seriously would have screwed the pooch by now. Never in my life have I been so happy to trust in the Lord and His direction for my life. And never in my life have I truly trusted, as I do in this moment, that God has the perfect plan for me and that, regardless of my actions, it will come to fruition.
I've had a lot to be thankful for lately. Right now, I'm thankful that I have the opportunity to see the growth in myself. It gives me the encouragement that I often need when I feel discouraged or overwhelmed or just plain weak.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Sunday, December 15, 2013
A Tangled Mess
Disclaimer: I'm struggling with how to articulate my feelings right now, so bear with me. I apologize in advance. I've also realized that I've started to hold back a part of myself on this blog. I'm not okay with that. The purpose of this blog is for me: an outlet for my feelings, my thoughts, and my prayers. Thus, I'm going to stop doing that. End disclaimer.
I am not a happy person. That doesn't mean unhappy. Unhappiness is, in fact, the opposite of happy. I'm simply...not-happy. Before I became a Christian, the most salient part of my personality that I remember is anger. Oh man was I angry. I'm sure that some of it was prepubescent, teenage angst type anger. But much of it was me. I fought often. I hurt deeply. I had a unmercifully short temper. Since becoming a Christian, and since maturing some, I've mellowed significantly. I truly believe that prayer has grown my patience immeasurably. What I'm trying to say, though, is that the absence of happiness doesn't upset me. I view it more as an even keel. I laugh, I smile, and I have no trouble feeling joyful. But I don't consider happiness to be an essential part of my person. There is, however, a downside. The not-happy touches perilously closely to adrift.
I'm not sure what causes it, where the trigger lies, but sometimes I fall adrift. All of the sudden, there is a tangible separateness between myself and the rest of the world, like looking through a window. I can see everything clearly, but the sounds are a little muffled and I am aware that there is a barrier there. Sometimes this lasts for a few moments...sometimes a few days...and worse yet, a few weeks or months. I've been adrift for awhile now. There are two things that scare me about being adrift: 1) I feel further than ever from God and 2) adrift is one small step from emptiness. Thinking about it, those might in fact be the same thing.
I don't talk about it often (read: never) but as a sophomore in college, I struggled with depression. Nothing terrible, aside from the suicidal thoughts. I felt so empty. Not only was there a window between me and the rest of the world, but the window was blacked out. I knew the world was right there but I couldn't see it, I couldn't hear it, I didn't know how to get there. In fact, the only thing that kept me connected to the world in any way was my desperate desire to seem connected, to hide everything. Eventually, those attempts to seem normal morphed into a new type of normal. Even better, I discovered the power of prayer and the wealth of God's love.
My pastor shared a wonderful analogy that I think is oh, so fitting for me. He said that God is always with us, right there beside us but sometimes, we humans turn. It might be a small shift or a full revolution but all of the sudden we can't see Him anymore. He's still there, but turning has blocked our view. I think that that is beautiful. In the back of my mind, I know that He's still there. All I have to do is turn. Turn back around. Shuffle my feet a little and I'll see Him again. For the past few weeks, I've been turned a little sideways, but I'm ready to turn back. And I take some measure of peace in the thought that even if I can't turn back right away, or it takes more than a few steps to get there, He's still there. Right on the other side of my shoulder. God doesn't give up on us; we give up on us. If that doesn't prove that our God is a wonderful God, I sure as hell don't know what does. I don't understand that kind of love, but I give thanks for it everyday.
Psalm 42 has recently resonated with me in a major way.
I am not a happy person. That doesn't mean unhappy. Unhappiness is, in fact, the opposite of happy. I'm simply...not-happy. Before I became a Christian, the most salient part of my personality that I remember is anger. Oh man was I angry. I'm sure that some of it was prepubescent, teenage angst type anger. But much of it was me. I fought often. I hurt deeply. I had a unmercifully short temper. Since becoming a Christian, and since maturing some, I've mellowed significantly. I truly believe that prayer has grown my patience immeasurably. What I'm trying to say, though, is that the absence of happiness doesn't upset me. I view it more as an even keel. I laugh, I smile, and I have no trouble feeling joyful. But I don't consider happiness to be an essential part of my person. There is, however, a downside. The not-happy touches perilously closely to adrift.
I'm not sure what causes it, where the trigger lies, but sometimes I fall adrift. All of the sudden, there is a tangible separateness between myself and the rest of the world, like looking through a window. I can see everything clearly, but the sounds are a little muffled and I am aware that there is a barrier there. Sometimes this lasts for a few moments...sometimes a few days...and worse yet, a few weeks or months. I've been adrift for awhile now. There are two things that scare me about being adrift: 1) I feel further than ever from God and 2) adrift is one small step from emptiness. Thinking about it, those might in fact be the same thing.
I don't talk about it often (read: never) but as a sophomore in college, I struggled with depression. Nothing terrible, aside from the suicidal thoughts. I felt so empty. Not only was there a window between me and the rest of the world, but the window was blacked out. I knew the world was right there but I couldn't see it, I couldn't hear it, I didn't know how to get there. In fact, the only thing that kept me connected to the world in any way was my desperate desire to seem connected, to hide everything. Eventually, those attempts to seem normal morphed into a new type of normal. Even better, I discovered the power of prayer and the wealth of God's love.
My pastor shared a wonderful analogy that I think is oh, so fitting for me. He said that God is always with us, right there beside us but sometimes, we humans turn. It might be a small shift or a full revolution but all of the sudden we can't see Him anymore. He's still there, but turning has blocked our view. I think that that is beautiful. In the back of my mind, I know that He's still there. All I have to do is turn. Turn back around. Shuffle my feet a little and I'll see Him again. For the past few weeks, I've been turned a little sideways, but I'm ready to turn back. And I take some measure of peace in the thought that even if I can't turn back right away, or it takes more than a few steps to get there, He's still there. Right on the other side of my shoulder. God doesn't give up on us; we give up on us. If that doesn't prove that our God is a wonderful God, I sure as hell don't know what does. I don't understand that kind of love, but I give thanks for it everyday.
Psalm 42 has recently resonated with me in a major way.
As the deer pants for streams of water,
so my soul pants for you, my God.
2 My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When can I go and meet with God?
3 My tears have been my food
day and night,
while people say to me all day long,
“Where is your God?”
4 These things I remember
as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go to the house of God
under the protection of the Mighty One
with shouts of joy and praise
among the festive throng.
so my soul pants for you, my God.
2 My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When can I go and meet with God?
3 My tears have been my food
day and night,
while people say to me all day long,
“Where is your God?”
4 These things I remember
as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go to the house of God
under the protection of the Mighty One
with shouts of joy and praise
among the festive throng.
5 Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
6 My soul is downcast within me;
therefore I will remember you
from the land of the Jordan,
the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.
7 Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.
therefore I will remember you
from the land of the Jordan,
the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.
7 Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.
8 By day the Lord directs his love,
at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life.
at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life.
9 I say to God my Rock,
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
oppressed by the enemy?”
10 My bones suffer mortal agony
as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
“Where is your God?”
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
oppressed by the enemy?”
10 My bones suffer mortal agony
as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
“Where is your God?”
11 Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
Why are you downcast, oh my soul? Why so disturbed within me? God's only one small step away.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
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