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?
Friday, January 27, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
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
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
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)