Inner Ramblings

Perhaps we all feel this way once in a while, I thought. Maybe we all question our identities, our choices, our roles. She asked me who I’d be if I were someone different. I told her I didn't know. But I know that there are days…no, moments of days… in which I am not completely content with who I am now. Or rather, with aspects of myself that seem impervious to change. It happens in those seconds between breaths when I allow my mind to roam unchecked. It happens when I am least engaged, when I can’t focus.

More than anything else, I know who I am. I have roved the inner workings of my mind and have processed every system, every habit. I see each inconsistency, every compulsion, the unstable roots. And I see the brilliancy of every stalwart fortress built to thwart the pitfalls. I marvel at the intricacies of thought and perception. I know my limitations. I can analyze every action and see the cause behind it. I have learned to love my own mind, eccentric as it may be.

She asked me who I’d be if I were someone different. The truth is that she doesn't exist. The tweaks and tinkerings needed for her to be created aren't going to come to fruition. I love what God has made me. But we often wish to change that which we love the most. It is the human condition to seek perfection and to always fall short.

This is no rambling of self-loathing or letter of entreaty for pity. It is merely a statement of truth, an acknowledgement of the feeling that there are times when we all want to play a role we weren't casted for. The trick is to keep the spotlight from seeking another target.

The trick is to take another breath.  

Cerebral perceptions

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about types of people. I’m not referring to a certain way of dress or a certain social grouping; I’m talking about those aspects of each of us that make us who we are, that give us a ‘type’. We’ve come up with an array of classifications to help us understand one another. We put each other in small, predictable boxes to try and make sense of interactions, of relationships. Our perceptions of others are based on our own perceptions of the world. Our lens is always egocentric. We can hardly be expected to make sense of ourselves, let alone the people around us.

I think that’s what all relationships are. We find people who share some aspect of ourselves because it gives us something to grasp, some clearer object to hold onto. We cling to that mutualness for as long as it continues to tie us together and isn’t broken by one of those stronger forces of change that make the connection look too fuzzy. Some frayed ropes can be knotted and re-knotted and I think that that is what love is; we continue to be tethered to those few people who make the most sense, or whose foggy spots we are most willing to ignore.  

We warn against those people who seem to change with the crowd, but perhaps those people are the ones least to be pitied. Or the least to be lonely. Those of us who fulfill our roles in every situation are the ones who have the most chance of loss. Our lack of variation means that our connections are fewer, our isolation potentially more widespread. Perhaps those of us who live within the confines of our own heads have the greater capacity to love, but the less possibility of such demonstrations.

Perhaps this is all just my attempt at retying a knot. Of fulfilling my role. Or of foolishly attempting to change it. 

Life in the Valley

A special thanks to Dr. Bob, Skoutz, Allison Zandarski, David Joe & Bev Hatter, and the Singleton family for their help and wisdom that led to the thoughts in this blog post. I am beyond blessed to know each of you. 

    As we crested that final cliff, I stood to full height and looked out over the scene below. A tapestry of colors stretched between the peaks. Fields of golds, reds, greens and purples colored the valley from the foot of our mountain to the foot of the next. We were overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, exclaiming at how great our Creator is. I chuckled inwardly, however, when I remembered our same voices shouting curses at the pain in our legs and the heat on our backs just moments before during our ascent.

    As Christians we sometimes believe that our lives should always be "clean." We constantly seek some state of happiness or some lack of trial. To continue with the analogy from the anecdote above, we try to live from mountaintop to mountaintop, attempting to sprint through the spaces between. We try hard to stifle our questions and cast all doubt aside. We use the "feel good" verses and cliches to blindly mollify ourselves and one another. We tiptoe around grief, sneak past drama and blatantly ignore messiness. We have traded any thoughts of a wartime mindset for tolerance and an acceptance of mere adequacy.
    But when I get to the top of a mountain, I realize that the view wouldn't be half as breathtaking if I hadn't gotten a few bumps and bruises during the climb. I think this idea that Christian are to constantly seek "higher ground" is hogwash. No, we are not called to live in a constant state of misery, not by any means; we can find joy and freedom in the grace we have been given.  But I think that when we are in the valley, the best way to get out of it is to be willing to stay in it. Were we, as believers, more inclined to embrace our doubts, our trials, our suffering, we could more fully appreciate all that is glorious about our salvation. If we were a bit more inclined to get our noses dirty, we could experience the life that Christ died for.
    The eye of the storm is the safest place to be and yet we try so hard to avoid life's hardships that we get sucked into the turmoil rather than accepting the struggle and coming out whole on the other side. If we allow ourselves to fall face-first, we are able to get back up more quickly than if the fall surprises us, knocking us flat on our backs.
    My final charge us simply this: make a commitment to messiness. Allow godly sorrow back into the Church. Ask hard questions. Be willing to sit awhile in your doubt or pain. Embrace grief.
    Live fully when you are in the valley and see how faithful our God is to lead you out of it.

The Book of Job

(Special shout-out to Tom Neyhart for holding me accountable to this)

With only about 10 chapters left in the book of Job, I admit that I am quite a bit behind in updating you all on what God is teaching me through this book. I can list off excuses and reasons for my procrastination, but the honest truth is that I simply haven't had anything to write about. Normally I write my blog posts in my head, for the most part, throughout the day as inspiration hits and then get it down on keys before I forget it all. My delayed response about what I've been reading is mostly due to a lack of such inspiration.

My initial reaction is guilt. I had such high hopes and plans for this study and reflex tells me to blame it on a lack of focus and motivation, which, admittedly, is partially true. I could have been taking more time to truly reflect on what I've been reading and to seek God's wisdom through His Word. As humans, we will always fall short, there is always room for improvement. I am just as human as the next person (perhaps even more so at times.)

My secondary reaction is, of course, self-defense. At this point in my psyche, the obstinate part of my nature rules out and the justification process starts to occur. I list off the various other commitments in my mind that are deemed at least as important as my quiet time is, or at the very least, reasonable explanations for why I have been slacking a bit with Job. During this stage of my thought process, guilt becomes a very tiny spec in the rear-view mirror on the road to blamelessness.

Why does any of this matter? It doesn't, except to help prove a point that would seem completely irrelevant if I hadn't first given you the context in which I discovered it.

The only real, solid insight I've been able to grasp through this time in the Book of Job is that we, as humans - broken, mortal, flawed humans - don't really have much of a say in the category of "life lessons." Of course, we can ask God to teach us certain things, or allow Him to put us in situations that will undoubtedly lead to our growth, but we don't actually get to decide the minute details that are the true framework needed for us to learn and grow. Here I was believing that I could tell God that I was ready to learn A, B and C from the book of Job in X number of days. I told God that I would be so challenged by this book and that insights would pour from my brain to share with other people. And now, the only insight I can truly share with you is that on my own I have no insights at all. I have been growing and learning so much during this time of going through Job, but I can attribute very little of it to my actual reading.

Praise God that He is so much bigger than our plans. Otherwise, we'd all be horribly doomed.

A Journey through Job: A challenge for us all

So, I've decided to try something very new for this blog of mine. From the loving critique of a good friend (ahem, Janet) as well as the promptings of the Holy Spirit, I have decided to spend the next several weeks going through the book of Job. Sure, I know the basic story and have read most of the book, but I have never done a real study on the person of Job and his trials with God.

Right now in my life, I believe God is really calling me to take a look at my faith. I have been insanely blessed in my life. God has carried me through every trial and has provided for me in every way. Now, as I draw ever closer to the time in my life where I will truly be independent, I want to make sure that I have a faith that goes beyond the comfortable, beyond the safe. I want a faith that can withstand the storms of life, no matter when they come or how they may look.

What I ask is simply for you all to join me. I would love to have some people go through the book with me (I plan to read a chapter a day, which makes 42 days.) We can share thoughts and insights. I plan to hopefully blog at least once a week about what God is showing me.

More importantly, I ask for prayer. I know full well that I am basically asking God to test me right now and, scary as that is, I am excited for it. But I know that Satan hates for us to try to draw closer to our Lord, so I ask for prayers for wisdom and protection.

This may sound strange to some of you and frankly, it's still a bit strange for me. This idea popped up rather abruptly (it's why I'm still awake at 11:10 on a weekday!) But I am choosing to take this very seriously. So if you are willing to journey with me, please text/call/message me and let me know. I would greatly appreciate it.

I praise God for His blessings in my life every day. But if He did not bless me so, would I still praise His name? That is the question I am hoping to answer.

Reflections on Holiness

First off, I'd like to send a special thanks to all of the students, faculty and staff who made this week so spectacular. 

During this week at camp our focus was on holiness. We spent each day trying to understand it more and to realize how we can pursue holiness in our lives. These thoughts are just what I have compiled after all of our studying, discussing and praying:

Holiness is what we strive for, what we aim for. It is our deepest craving and loftiest ambition.
Holiness is perfection; pure, sweet and breathing.
Holiness is not a set of rules or standards, but it is an expectation. We must expect that our holiness can only come with the aid of He who is holy. We should expect to fail on our own for holiness cannot be attained single-handedly. We can expect there to be wounds and scars along the path to holiness for it is only by wounds and scars that such holiness exists.
Holiness means, at its core, to be set apart. There is no room for holiness among those who pursue fame and recognition. It cannot be found snuggled beside comfort or cozied up to apathy. Holiness is the choice of the wanderer, he that knows what it is to crave societal acceptance and yet turns away in his pursuit of more.
Holiness is righteous anger, all brimstone and fire.
Holiness is the heart's longing toward compassion, its love for mercy, its passion for grace.
Holiness is the presence of all the good in the world and the absence of all that is false or wicked.
Holiness cannot be borrowed, stolen or bought with earthly treasures. The price for holiness is nothing less than our very lives and nothing more than the single task of answering the call.
Holiness is our purpose for living and our joy in dying.
Holiness is not conclusive, except in that it will only truly be understood in the end.
Holiness is not inclusive; holiness excludes the weak-willed, the self-absorbed, the lover of foolishness.
Holiness is found in perfect unity with one another. It is the fulfillment of love, the epitome of truth.
Holiness is God, was created by God and does not exist apart from Him.

Unabashedly Alone

“Christianity is a strong choice because it requires one to live in the light of radical freedom. And it is the strong choice because it requires that you stand in this freedom all on your own. The road to God has many lanes, but each is wide enough for only one person to stand on. Small is the gate and narrow is the road; paved for two feet, and I'm alone before you.” –Megan Fritts

‘Small is the gate and narrow is the road’; these words have never meant more to me than they do now. Though Christianity is an entity that boasts of the need for love and communion, our faith at its very essence is one of solitude. At the very core of our existence, the very center of our beings lies a question in which we alone can answer. No one can force us to acquiesce and no mortal man can walk the path laid out before us, whichever direction that path may take. We are, and rightly so, created as individuals to choose from our own free will. The path to salvation is every bit as isolated as the path to damnation, if not more so. To truly follow the narrow path is to forego all thoughts of societal comfort, at least at the most basic level of our journeys.

To choose the small gate is to expect – to embrace even – the consequences that such a choice must create. The loss of friends, the severing of ties, the alienation from family and the ostracism from society are all trademarks of the faith in which I’ve staked my life upon. And justly so! For didn’t my Savior suffer alone, abandoned by all to choose the path for which He was created?  Alas, my only comfort in the realization of these truths (if any comfort is to be had) is to know that these tragic occurrences of my life are true signs of a life lived for a Cause.

It is to some recompense to note that while the walk I take can hold my width alone, there are others whose paths run parallel to mine.  As I’ve reached this new crossroads, I can look back down the trail enough to see that the parts of the journey I’ve traveled thus far have been bordered by the same trees as those that have chosen the same. This new junction of life may prove to be leading me down a road much less shaded by the friendly groves of my neighbors,’ but I know I am not the first to take a deserted path. I have found that there is comfort to be felt in such a mutual lack of camaraderie. 

Situations and Circumstances

I spent the past few days with the family of a close friend. I hadn't anticipated the weekend being much more than a fun end to a busy week, but it was. For weeks now I have been feeling the pressure of responsibility. My life has been consumed with making money and forming plans. With a year left of school, my thoughts have been full of life after college and what God may have in store for me. I have been questioned about my possible future plans on more occasions than I can count, all of them ending in answers of uncertainty. For the most part, I am excited by my many prospects. I know full well that God will give me wisdom when the time comes and will bless me so long as I am glorifying Him with my choices. But trying to wrap my mind around the next chapter of my life when it is still so vague is a bit daunting.
My goal in the midst of all of this is to work harder to live fully in the present. We are called to not worry about the future, to allow our Father to direct our steps. He has charged us to serve Him every moment of everyday, not just in the days after graduation or when I finally get a job, but here and now. All of this is, of course, easier said than done, just like most of the good goals in our lives are.
This weekend, however cliche it may sound, gave me a chance to stop time for a couple days. For the first time in quite a while, I was able to fully experience the beauty of true relationship. I spent the weekend more or less "unplugged." I had no access to the internet and used my phone very little (mostly due to the lack of cell phone reception out at the Carr estate.) Instead, the 3 days were spent with meeting (and re-meeting) people from all different ages and locations. Given my nature, I barely had time to adjust to meeting the first batch before the next one came in. Though a bit overwhelming at first, I loved being thrown into such wonderful chaos. Having come from a fairly small family and growing up in pretty different circumstances, I haven't ever really experienced such a level of genuine family bonding and it is an event I hope to relive not only in the near future but also down the road with a family of my own. These lovely folks came from all over to celebrate a special day and to simply be together. It was a truly beautiful thing. And it helped me to slow down and enjoy the moment.
On the drive home last night, I realized how peaceful it had all been. And I realized that that peace comes from the very fact that the people I had met and grown to love over the weekend have far more than just a love for one another; they have a love for God that is clear and tangible. His presence in their lives enhances their bonds with each other in a powerful way. It is realizations such as these that give me hope and courage for the future. Sharing in such a blessed time helps me to truly focus on all that God is doing for me now and to rest assured that He will only continue to bless me in the future so long as I choose to seek His face.

The beautiful Day Carr sang this song this weekend and the words continue to play in my head:

May your hands always be busy 
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation 
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful 
And may your song always be sung
May you stay forever young 

Worry-some

I think sometimes we worry just to feel something. It's not as if worrying is an emotion that we particularly enjoy, yet we cling to it for the comfort it brings through its consistency. We know what it is to worry - we can anticipate our bodies' reactions, can expect the quickened pulse, the shaky hands, the headaches. To worry is second nature. Our desire to control and our utter lack of control make for the perfect conditions.

I wonder what it'd be like to be free from worrying. Would my mind even be able to handle the lack of activity? Could my body still function without the adrenaline inducer?

Would I really be at peace if I were really at peace?

Oh, to be free from worry! What a life that would be.

A Matter of Silence

The art of silence is not just an absence of noise; it's and absence of every distraction of our minds, every self-dialogue. It is an absence of every hesitancy to listen and be fully present to absorb rather than to simply leak out in excess as we usually do.To be silent is to empty ourselves in totality to be prepared to be filled with Something far greater that the cacophony of our daily lives.
God doesn't just suggest that we spend time in silence, He commands it (Ecclesiastes 5:2-3).
Ours is a culture of ruckus, a culture of structured chaos where a day spent in silence can loom like a prison sentence. But we were not created to be masters of our own private rock band; we were called to learn to live in the silence of a relationship gone right, a relationship of listening.
The beauty of silence is the beauty of true companionship. To be able to be silent in the presence of another is the real sign of a connection that goes far deeper than location or common interests.
My goal is to learn to relish silence, to be able to enter a point in my relationships where the use of words would dishonor their validity. I only pray that it doesn't take a lifetime to do it.

The Point of Love

First off, if you haven't read it already, read The War of Love by one of my good friends and favorite writers, Dylan Lemert. I'll be responding to his blog in parts of my own.  http://infiniteimportance.com/2012/01/27/the-war-of-love/

The following quote comes from the book Sacred Rhythms by Ruth Haley Barton:
"For one thing, love is a major inconvenience at times. It is rarely efficient...Furthermore, love challenges my self-centeredness, and sometimes it requires me to give more of myself than I want to give. Sometimes (I'd say most times) love hurts, or at least makes me vulnerable. All the time, love is risky, and there are no guarantees..."

My gut-level reaction is to end the quote there. These lines seem to sum up most of how we would define love, at least as far as our finite minds can grasp. I think of classic romance movies like "A Walk to Remember" or "The Notebook,"  both renowned for not just their feel-good scenes, but because they show - albeit in the dolled-up Hollywood way - that love involves pain, it involves the unknown. As Dylan stated, love requires sacrifice, if it's worthwhile anyway. And I also agree, love should (and does) make us feel pretty miserable at times. It's impossible to be objective about love; love is practically defined by its subjective nature! But honestly, I think that's the point. If love weren't a risk, if it weren't a strain on our very sense of control, then it wouldn't be the very thing that makes us human.

"...and yet, love is the deepest calling of the Christian life, the standard by which everything about our lives is measured...the heart of God's will is that we follow Him passionately into love - even if it takes us all the way to the cross."

Only in war do we see people knowingly and consciously choosing to lay down their most prized possession -their very lives- for a cause. The greatest battle of all time was fought and won by the same kind of sacrifice. To what end? To love, simply and completely. We do have to fight to teach others how to love just as we have been taught through the sacrifice and struggle of those who love us. All of the risks - the pain, the betrayal, the very death of our selves - are the price it costs to even step foot on the battlefield. To truly love is to lay it all out on the line and then continue to fight, naked and empty-handed. But that love is the very core of our existence, the reason of our being. What's more natural than that?

Storytime

As I sit in my bright yellow room looking over all of the traces of the time spent so far in this house, I keep thinking about the power of a good memory. By "good" I don't necessarily mean "happy" or "pleasant," but rather those memories that are meaningful enough to stand out, the ones that haven't faded into the background of my mind because of the experience they provided. Very seldom do I remember something from before about the age of 12; my childhood never seems to surface except on rare occasions. Or, perhaps the last (almost 9) years have just been too full for me to remember anything beyond them. I prefer the second explanation, though it may be a bit far-fetched. Thinking over the nearly 21 years of my life so far, I have noticed that the vast majority of my memories involve other people, rather directly or indirectly. Those images and scenes that come to mind the easiest are the ones in which I was acting with other people, acting for other people, or reacting to other people. Though not surprising, this observation is still intriguing to me as it shows how intertwined we really are as humans. The idea also helps me to see that in order to write a better story for my life I must pay attention to its characters.

I recently finished reading "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" by Donald Miller, recommended by a good friend. Though slow-going at first, the last half of the book was quite challenging. The idea of viewing my life as a story that I write isn't new to me; most "writer-types" toy with the thought. However, I don't think I ever truly embraced the idea that I, as the writer, had the power to, well, write. I've been barely scribbling recently, just waiting for Him to give me some major inspiration, to stop my writer's block. I realize now that He's been waiting for me to first be willing to go out on a limb, write a few lines or paragraphs, knowing that He'll help me edit as I go along.

I have also realized that my character development has been a bit shoddy. The main character of my novel (me) has not been interacting with the other characters in the story enough to make it worth reading. Though my character is rather adept at being self-aware, she sometimes lacks the ability to see how deeply the characters around her affect her life. (I call this "the syndrome of the introvert") Of course, the interactions I have with other people in my mind are always fulfilling and exciting...the problem is getting the ideas on paper. I have been challenged to continue to fight past the urges to hide inside my own mind, to put the pen to paper and make bold lines. The things I risk - embarrassment, rejection, discomfort - aren't greater than the opportunity of writing a story that really means something, a story that I can be proud to show to God at the end of it.

"I don't wonder anymore what I'll tell God when I go to Heaven, when we sit in the chairs under the tree, outside of the city...he'll remind me of the parts I forgot, the parts that were his favorites. We'll sit and remember my story together, and then he'll stand and put his arms around me and say, 'Well done,' and that he liked my story. And my soul won't be thirsty anymore. Finally, he'll turn, and we'll walk toward the city...a city built in a place where once there'd been nothing." -Donald Miller

Stretching Out

The other night I was speaking with a very good friend and accountability partner. I asked her about some interactions she had observed me in over the past week and wanted her feedback on how I had handled a certain situation.

I'm still cringing.

Basically, it boiled down to her telling me that my actions/reactions resembled those of someone with a lot less self-control and discernment than what I'd like to think I actually possess. And, in not so many words, she implied that I hadn't given her enough reason to trust that her initial assessment of my actions were wrong. In this particular type of scenario, I was seemingly failing miserably at responding in a way that showed Christ's influence in my life, or, at least, that's the way I took it.

My gut-level response to this conversation? Total denial and blatant defense. I wanted to respond with as many excuses and justifications as I could to prove to her that she had judged too quickly and too harshly. After all, she didn't know the whole story, and it had always been clear that our ideas on these types of situations were different. But by the grace of God (for there's no way I chose to on my own) I held my tongue and decided to contemplate what she had said. This issue is probably the one I struggle with most in this season of my life, and therefore the hardest one to allow God to work in.

Though a bit painful, the conclusions I have come to and am still working out as a result of this one simple conversation have been perfectly in-line with similar themes that seem to be running in my life this semester. I have already begun sensing that this semester is going to push me in ways that I may not always feel prepared for. Now that I am fully into my major classes, most of this semester focuses on ministry. More importantly, this semester seems to be focusing on personal, disciplined growth.

In other words, this semester's theme is: kick Lindsay's butt until she realizes that it's good for her.

Another friend and I were talking recently about maturity. We agreed that a strong indicator of maturity is the ability to self-evaluate and make changes in your life where necessary. This is a skill that any person should be able to develop as they grow and age; however, for Christians, I think this skill is even more important and is a true sign of one's ability to let the Holy Spirit work in his/her life to mature his/her faith. I have always prided myself on being very self-aware; I know my strengths and weaknesses, I know how my personality functions and I have a good sense of where I fit in the world around me. However, I am only beginning to realize that there is much more involved in making changes than just the initial desire to make the change. I have to be willing to take the steps needed to move me in that direction; I have to be willing to stretch.

Therefore, right now, in front of whoever may happen to read this (and in front of the Big Guy Himself), I am committing to being stretched this semester. I am making the conscious choice now to be a different person in 4 months. I am promising myself and my Father that I will take the pain, the embarrassment and the confusion as much as I need to to reach the next step of my journey.