Ok. It's been a while but I've been seriously out of the writing loop. Things have gotten unbelievably crazy around here.
I got an interview with TeachNOLA down in New Orleans, so I will be flying down in 11 days...and then 4 days after that, turning around to drive down to lead the CAM trip with 40 college students in tow. :) Should be amazing.
Alas, with all of the stress, I've been freaking out. But God is incredibly faithful and has placed amazing people in my life that support me and pour into me when I need it.
Today started out awful, but as I am nearing the end of the day, I realize that I'm so blessed. I love my friends and family more than they will ever know.
And I will miss them with a great pain when I am far far away.
...But I am also excited for the crazy things that they will be doing for the sake of the Gospel.
I love you guys.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Redemption and Slush
Today was beautiful.
February 10th and we hit a high of 60 degrees outside. This is almost unheard of in Wisconsin.
I took advantage of the opportunity to be outside without freezing. After work at Blackhawk, I took a walk in the arboretum. It couldn't be too intense, as I was in moccasins and had no time to change clothing. (I was in between afternoon activities.) This was actually a blessing.
I drove into the arboretum the furthest that I could go. Grabbed my keys and my ipod and left everything else in the car. I knew that I needed to spend some time with God with no distractions.
It has been an intense week or so. I feel like I did almost 3 years ago when I was on the spring break trip during which I truly learned to abandon what I thought was best for my life in exchange for the plan that God had for me. There is this unquenchable knowledge happening within the deepest part of me that knows there is something I need to let go of before God can do His next work in me.
I wrote a bit ago about the imagery I've been getting with the little girl and the broken vase. This has grown to be more detailed as time has progressed.
The Blackhawk Staff retreat happened last week. There was 2.5 hours set aside the first afternoon for us to spend some time with God. I spent a good portion of it hiking around the land of the camp that we were at out in western Wisconsin, along the cliffs and through the untouched snow. I could feel that I wanted to connect with God but was butting my head against a wall. I pegged it as the fact that it was time that was set aside for me to do this rather than me setting it aside and moved on with the retreat. However, that night, we had an intense time of worship, confession and communion. I was left with this knowledge that I do not know how to forgive. This grand concept that is a cornerstone in the faith I profess is a concept that I do not get. I hide behind the hurts of my past, turning them into what seems like strength, all the while terrified that someone will dig deep enough to realize what I know:
I don't know how to forgive.
I am, in fact, that little girl. I am the girl, who in her own carelessness, knocked the priceless vase off of the table and shattered it. I tried to hide the pieces for a while. But I know full well that the only person who can fix it is the one who created it to begin with. And now I have to, with the admittance that I was wrong to be so careless, give back the broken pieces. And so I present it. And I cry and say that I'm sorry and that I was wrong. And I am comforted and told that it's ok. It can be put back together... but it won't look exactly the same. And I mourn those cracks that will never be smoothed out. That I will look at 15 years from now and say "I wish I would have been more careful with that. Imagine what it would be if I had been."
When I was walking, I was pondering this. I was praying about it. I was mourning the cracks that are now in my heart, despite the ability for Him to put it back together.
It was as if even Creation was mourning with me. The grove of beautiful green fir trees had one tree growing in the midst of it that was dead and ugly...and yet somewhat beautiful. It was a beautiful day, with what you could tell was a warm breeze. But every time a breeze hit me, it was chilly. The snow cooled the southerly breezes so that by the time they reached me, they were cold. It was trying to get me, but was slowed down and inhibited. It hit the brick wall that I had been hitting for weeks.
I eventually got back to my car and pulled out my journal. I let the words from 1 John 1:9 speak to me. "If we confess, He is faithful to forgive us and purify us."
And it just poured out from me. The snow melted into slush and water. The breezes blew warm as I sat there in the car with my windows down and myself heart begging for restoration.
And as that snow turned to slush and turned to water, redemption happened.
February 10th and we hit a high of 60 degrees outside. This is almost unheard of in Wisconsin.
I took advantage of the opportunity to be outside without freezing. After work at Blackhawk, I took a walk in the arboretum. It couldn't be too intense, as I was in moccasins and had no time to change clothing. (I was in between afternoon activities.) This was actually a blessing.
I drove into the arboretum the furthest that I could go. Grabbed my keys and my ipod and left everything else in the car. I knew that I needed to spend some time with God with no distractions.
It has been an intense week or so. I feel like I did almost 3 years ago when I was on the spring break trip during which I truly learned to abandon what I thought was best for my life in exchange for the plan that God had for me. There is this unquenchable knowledge happening within the deepest part of me that knows there is something I need to let go of before God can do His next work in me.
I wrote a bit ago about the imagery I've been getting with the little girl and the broken vase. This has grown to be more detailed as time has progressed.
The Blackhawk Staff retreat happened last week. There was 2.5 hours set aside the first afternoon for us to spend some time with God. I spent a good portion of it hiking around the land of the camp that we were at out in western Wisconsin, along the cliffs and through the untouched snow. I could feel that I wanted to connect with God but was butting my head against a wall. I pegged it as the fact that it was time that was set aside for me to do this rather than me setting it aside and moved on with the retreat. However, that night, we had an intense time of worship, confession and communion. I was left with this knowledge that I do not know how to forgive. This grand concept that is a cornerstone in the faith I profess is a concept that I do not get. I hide behind the hurts of my past, turning them into what seems like strength, all the while terrified that someone will dig deep enough to realize what I know:
I don't know how to forgive.
I am, in fact, that little girl. I am the girl, who in her own carelessness, knocked the priceless vase off of the table and shattered it. I tried to hide the pieces for a while. But I know full well that the only person who can fix it is the one who created it to begin with. And now I have to, with the admittance that I was wrong to be so careless, give back the broken pieces. And so I present it. And I cry and say that I'm sorry and that I was wrong. And I am comforted and told that it's ok. It can be put back together... but it won't look exactly the same. And I mourn those cracks that will never be smoothed out. That I will look at 15 years from now and say "I wish I would have been more careful with that. Imagine what it would be if I had been."
When I was walking, I was pondering this. I was praying about it. I was mourning the cracks that are now in my heart, despite the ability for Him to put it back together.
It was as if even Creation was mourning with me. The grove of beautiful green fir trees had one tree growing in the midst of it that was dead and ugly...and yet somewhat beautiful. It was a beautiful day, with what you could tell was a warm breeze. But every time a breeze hit me, it was chilly. The snow cooled the southerly breezes so that by the time they reached me, they were cold. It was trying to get me, but was slowed down and inhibited. It hit the brick wall that I had been hitting for weeks.
I eventually got back to my car and pulled out my journal. I let the words from 1 John 1:9 speak to me. "If we confess, He is faithful to forgive us and purify us."
And it just poured out from me. The snow melted into slush and water. The breezes blew warm as I sat there in the car with my windows down and myself heart begging for restoration.
And as that snow turned to slush and turned to water, redemption happened.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Cleaning out the Closet
It has come to my realization that God is doing some serious cleaning of my rhetorical closet these days. It is good. It is healthy. And like all things that are good and healthy for growth, it is also painful. You prune the bush to allow it to grow more, right?
Recently, I've been playing an ugly game of wack-a-mole with experiences and hurts in my past. One by one, they are being drudged to the surface and one by one, I'm having to recognize, analyze, and legitimize (which has, coincidentally or not, lead to a lot of exercise too. ---hey! it's a near rhyme. I was close.)
So this involves seeing that these things in the closet exist, analyzing the effect and causes of them and then dealing with them in the present and all of the things that it has affected. This has lead to a lot of freedom with some things but a lot more of a nauseated feeling within my stomach.
A lot of it, being the girl that I am, has to do with histories with guys. Friends...past boyfriends...past almost-boyfriends... You name it: If he could grow a five o'clock shadow, I'm dealing with it now.
I am realizing that forgiveness is something that I have to chose to do on a regular basis until it becomes a lifestyle. But that lifestyle looks differently for every situation, so right now, it's just way too much thinking and I am a bit overwhelmed with it. I have one good success story, so there is actually a standard to set the others against.
I am learning the significance of that ever-present but ever-foreign concept of "guarding your heart." What the crap does this even mean, right? Well. I now have an answer for you. Without even realizing it at points, I was able to give away little chunks of my heart here and there...Without even a knowledge that I was doing it or an ability to stop it. I was told to guard my heart, but not ever given specific avenues on how to do that. And because of this, I am now having to pick up the pieces of a badly beaten heart. Now I have to present those pieces to the One who created my heart in the first place, like a little girl who has just broken her mom's precious vase, so that it can be pieced back together.
And the more daunting aspect that I am now faced with is this question:
Am I willing to rest in the pains of my past benefiting another woman?
Ouch, right? There is no black and white with this one. It's another grey area. On one side, there is the beauty that he is a better man because of what he learned in the painful circumstances with you. On the other side, your heart got broken.
And yet, in that question, I find that I feel incredibly close to Jesus. The pain of my heart benefits someone who might not even have a knowledge that it happened or that this is why things are the way they are. It is simply an innate circumstance to them.
There is freedom in that for me.
Recently, I've been playing an ugly game of wack-a-mole with experiences and hurts in my past. One by one, they are being drudged to the surface and one by one, I'm having to recognize, analyze, and legitimize (which has, coincidentally or not, lead to a lot of exercise too. ---hey! it's a near rhyme. I was close.)
So this involves seeing that these things in the closet exist, analyzing the effect and causes of them and then dealing with them in the present and all of the things that it has affected. This has lead to a lot of freedom with some things but a lot more of a nauseated feeling within my stomach.
A lot of it, being the girl that I am, has to do with histories with guys. Friends...past boyfriends...past almost-boyfriends... You name it: If he could grow a five o'clock shadow, I'm dealing with it now.
I am realizing that forgiveness is something that I have to chose to do on a regular basis until it becomes a lifestyle. But that lifestyle looks differently for every situation, so right now, it's just way too much thinking and I am a bit overwhelmed with it. I have one good success story, so there is actually a standard to set the others against.
I am learning the significance of that ever-present but ever-foreign concept of "guarding your heart." What the crap does this even mean, right? Well. I now have an answer for you. Without even realizing it at points, I was able to give away little chunks of my heart here and there...Without even a knowledge that I was doing it or an ability to stop it. I was told to guard my heart, but not ever given specific avenues on how to do that. And because of this, I am now having to pick up the pieces of a badly beaten heart. Now I have to present those pieces to the One who created my heart in the first place, like a little girl who has just broken her mom's precious vase, so that it can be pieced back together.
And the more daunting aspect that I am now faced with is this question:
Am I willing to rest in the pains of my past benefiting another woman?
Ouch, right? There is no black and white with this one. It's another grey area. On one side, there is the beauty that he is a better man because of what he learned in the painful circumstances with you. On the other side, your heart got broken.
And yet, in that question, I find that I feel incredibly close to Jesus. The pain of my heart benefits someone who might not even have a knowledge that it happened or that this is why things are the way they are. It is simply an innate circumstance to them.
There is freedom in that for me.
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