After

The air unburdened itself, and there, clear as memory, as if copied from a picture of some wider, less populated sky, blink stars. Actual stars form Ursa Major and whisper secrets. Though the wind lightly blows, all is still. Branches sway not, and there is no whistle, only the crunching of leaves beneath feet. There is no brightness but the spiral of yellow in the black night. Breath is crisp and clear and invigorating, the ground cold, inviting. The ground is cold and invites you to stay, “Stay! I offer all of this and more. Nor will I forsake you: you will remain with me until He, and you will walk again. Stay! My depths will heal and soothe you, I exist for you to walk upon – why, you were once dust! Why, you were once without air!”

Out Driving in the First Hour

When it starts to rain in Southern California
the streets turn slick and shine, and
whatever song is playing is right
and feels like poetry.
Whoever is beside me becomes a sister,
or a brother, or a lover -
and they fit into the moment
like a child in her mother's arms - safe,
sweet, like the smell that mothers
have: warm, like freckles bouncing from sand
to skin in the sunshine, beside a river
that shines, slick like a street when it
starts to rain.
In the moments when the drops hit
the roof, and run down the glass
in streams, like little trails
forged in wilderness, like soft
rocks rolling down a mountainside,
like erosion, only quicker and cleaner,
like tears, the Holy Presence is in every
smile, in every breath, like
He must have been in the first.

It made me feel fine, made me quiet

I'm in my bed and am having one of those gradual relaxation experiences. My legs are melting into the mattress, and my neck, knotted in stress, is rejoicing in the pillow beneath it. My jaw is slowly loosening. I've been on my feet all day, running around and enjoying people. I've made one or two great decisions and several bad decisions - with overlap, of course - but I can't go back and change those now.

I'm in a pleasant mood.

Tomorrow is my Theology exam and the day I will work five hours, do two math assignments, memorize eight lines of Middle English poetry and 10 questions in Russian, and write a paper regarding...who knows what. I was thinking earlier about this epidsode we call college. I am spending four years of my life living on deadline and constantly massaging my brain so that it will produce good fruit (sometimes any fruit will do). What in the world will I do with myself when I am no longer writing essays about the use of imagery in Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "The Cry of the Children?" I have absolutely no idea. I have absolutely no idea. What? Do I believe that I will read more? Write more? Perhaps. But it is most likely the case that I will revert to my old/current habits of "rest" - TV, the internet, mindlessness. 

So what? So I'll start to change my habits now. I'm going to write for fun again. I am going to journal in poetry. I'm going to read East of Eden, for goodness sake.

And twenty days later

Today is a glorious day. I have finished my theology test, turned in my Beowulf essay, printed my time card, eaten lunch, and am now sitting peacefully at work our little writing center without an appointment for another 45 minutes. Delightful. And even though I could totally go for a nap, and I know that after 2:00 PM my day will be solely dedicated (save the probable, unexpected appointment) to reworking my essay on the contrasting imagery in Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "The Cry of the Children," I am contented.

I am officially a month into my third semester here at Biola University. I realize that I like it in spite of the fact that the temperature remains within five degrees of 80. God has blessed me with genuine friends, a safe, warm, spacious home, a steady job, and the desire to keep striving. I never understood what the big deal about finishing college was, "The hard part is getting there - then it's all down-hill!" But, as the months roll by, I am comprehending that one might just give up. People do. The more time that passes, the less foreign this seems.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'm doing with my life. Am I getting the degree that will best prepare me to love/help people, serve God and further the Kingdom? What does the church need right now? Am I capable of providing that? Has God put a desire in my heart to fill that need? What do non-profits want in an employee? What sort of non-profit should I be looking for anyway? Is it important to be with a Christian organization, or should I be open to working anywhere? Should I go to law school? Would I like law school....at all? If not, what sort of graduate school would I enjoy? What sort of graduate degree will prove most useful? Can I know the answers to any of these questions, or should I simply seek God and trust the desires that he puts in my heart? Why does coffee cost so much money? Does Bill O'Reilly get dizzy when he leaves the no-spin zone? Yes, I stole that last one from Stephen Colbert.

I don't know. These questions, excepting that last two, are on rotation in my head every time I think about "big-picture" school. I have met with a couple of professors to seek advice, but I think it might be important for me to wait on the Lord. After all, no one else is all-knowing, all-powerful and the exact definition of wisdom.

I think I will be still for the remaining 20 minutes of tranquility.

Kingdom Come!

Okay, so I might be addicted to trail mix. I don't eat it while on a trail, however, unless the trail of discarded raisins that run from the cupboard to the couch counts. I go through about one tub of Target's Monster Trail Mix per week: it accompanies every meal and consists of nearly every snack. What can I say? That M&M and peanut combo has really got me hooked.

As fascinating as the above paragraph is, I am saddened that, having finished, I don't know what else to share. My life is busy and I am turning 21 in about a week but I can't seem to figure out what to write. I've attempted two blogs in the past week, but each time I sit down I find myself staring at a blinking cursor and finally distracting myself with Facebook or Tumblr. Oh Tumblr, perhaps you have been my downfall! Blogger has somehow become intimidating - I crave the immediate satisfaction of re-blogging someone else's thoughts, ideas or inspiration. My friend Meghan described it as an "inspiration board of your life," which is wonderfully accurate, but...that's all it is. I don't flush out ideas or improve as a writer, thinker, or story-teller on Tumblr! Ay, Tumblr has made me lazy. And Facebook has made me distracted. Oh gracious.

So, perhaps I ought to face my fears and just keep writing. I am learning so, so much, I've got to share it! For example:

How wonderful is it that heaven isn't made up of clouds and togas and harps? That's right folks, when Kingdom comes, we will not find ourselves bored senseless, but will instead spend eternity engaging with the great, mysterious, incomprehensible, knowable, loving, kind, holy, just, graceful, and merciful, creator of the universe. We will never, ever, exhaust our knowledge of Him. Further, the world that we know now - while twisted and distorted by sin - was created by God and so, why do we imagine that the Kingdom will look so different? The entire world will be redeemed: nature, food, our bodies, those beautiful things that move our hearts....all of it! Oh,

"I will exhort you, my God and King,
and bless your name forever and ever.
Every day I will bless you
and praise your name forever and ever.
Great is the LORD, and greatly to be praised,
and his greatness is unsearchable."

Psalm 145:1-3

So much more to life than we've been told

Farther along we’ll know all about it
Farther along we’ll understand why
Cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine
We’ll understand this, all by and by

Tempted and tried, I wondered why
The good man died, the bad man thrives
And Jesus cries because he loves em’ both
We’re all cast-aways in need of ropes
Hangin’ on by the last threads of our hope
In a house of mirrors full of smoke
Confusing illusions I’ve seen

Where did I go wrong, I sang along
To every chorus of the song
That the devil wrote like a piper at the gates
Leading mice and men down to their fates
But some will courageously escape
The seductive voice with a heart of faith
While walkin’ that line back home

So much more to life than we’ve been told
It’s full of beauty that will unfold
And shine like you struck gold my wayward son
That deadweight burden weighs a ton
Go down into the river and let it run
And wash away all the things you’ve done
Forgiveness alright

Chorus

Still I get hard pressed on every side
Between the rock and a compromise
Like the truth and pack of lies fightin’ for my soul
And I’ve got no place left go
Cause I got changed by what I’ve been shown
More glory than the world has known
Keeps me ramblin’ on

Skipping like a calf loosed from its stall
I’m free to love once and for all
And even when I fall I’ll get back up
For the joy that overflows my cup
Heaven filled me with more than enough
Broke down my levee and my bluff
Let the flood wash me

And one day when the sky rolls back on us
Some rejoice and the others fuss
Cause every knee must bow and tongue confess
That the Son of God is forever blessed
His is the kingdom, we’re the guests
So put your voice up to the test
Sing Lord, come soon 


Josh Garrels - "Farther Along"

Counting on Inertia.

Hi. It’s been rather a long time, hasn’t it? Sometimes I think about all I could be doing (writing, reading, investigating, learning, helping) and, instead of doing it, I gather myself up into a tight, little ball of feigned ignorance. But that’s human nature, I think: we pretend not to know a great many things that are true. No matter how little attention we choose to pay, people will continue to starve, to hurt, to drain themselves dry of life while in search of, well, Life.

I feel I am standing at the edge of a precipice overlooking my junior year of college. Below me lies a panoply of potential. I call it potential because much of what could be this semester depends on my ability to take a deep breath and jump from the precipice, allowing God to break my fall. I’m starting to think that if I want to follow the Lord, I am going to have to walk. Go figure.

So many metaphors.

This post is actually about making a post. It’s about admitting that I haven’t made a blog entry in two months. So here I am, I’ve started and I intend to continue. 

Try to keep and open mind, but I just can't sleep on this tonight.

What didn't post the night before.

I am literally sitting here swooning over Tom Hanks. Sitting up in bed so late at night makes me feel like a character Meg Ryan might play - you know, someone who has something to say. The comforter which so kindly warms my unsatisfactory and lightly freckled legs is light blue (think Narnia ice queen) and perfectly fluffy. I wish someone would transport me back to the nineties when dark lipstick and neutrals were all the rage and when it seems it was perfectly acceptable to walk around holding books, drinking a new-fangled cup of Starbucks coffee and basking in the seemingly immortal favorable economy. Where are we now? I am twenty years old. Twenty one in September, to be exact. And yet, I don't feel ready. I don't feel attractive enough, accomplished enough, sure enough. What is there, unique to me, that would make me the main character in any story? Meg Ryan would never be cast as me. Truly, I am more of a...Hilary Duff? A young girl pretending at something special yet never quite accomplishing that legitimacy, that actual talent that is so necessary in so competitive a world. No, much like our preteen Lizzie McGuire, I have now idea who I am. If only I were an Elizabeth Bennet! SHE was unafraid of her future. SHE did not give in to her fears, the pressures, the discontent of her family. Elizabeth Bennet lived her own life. She loved and she acknowledged truth. "Goodbye, Mr. Collins." - "Prove yourself, Mr. Darcy." Had I but an ounce of her gumption then perhaps I could get somewhere.

I give in too easily. I decide what I want. And then, something that bears the slightest resemblance, however rough, walks by and poof! All of my standards are out the window. Surely this is coming from myself. The Lord has given me clear standards but I have apparently decided that following my own path is the way to go. I am seventeen again. Please excuse the unavoidable allusion. Must I be transported back three years to remember the vulgarity and shame of my previous self? Perhaps I was no more insecure than I am now, but I certainly had no hope. Today I have hope. Unquenchable hope: Romans 8:35.

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?

Where the air is dirty but life is good.

The end is near. I can feel the sweet, clean air of Portland lightly brushing my skin. I can taste the water, straight from the faucet, clear and cold as it washes all taste from my tongue and throat. I can see the rivers, the mountain, the ever green trees, grass, sword ferns.

But I am here, where the air is dirty but life is good. I've learned a great deal this semester about myself, about those around me and about my God. Maybe when I get home and I don't have a considerable amount of Russian staring me in the face I will write about it. An end-of-semester-reflection, if you will?

California, how did I come to love you?

Art Nouveau has taken over my life.

I cannot get over this art. I love the intricacy and the sharp, feminine contrast. Oh me, oh my. I've decided that when I get a tattoo it will take after this movement. Matthew 6, art nouveau style? I think so.

Beardsley, 1872-1898

Aubrey Beardsley, 1895

Maurice Pillard-Verneuil, 1869-1942 

George Auriol, 1863-1938

George Auriol, 1863-1938

Alphonse Mucha, 1898

Gustav Klimt, 1917-1918

My friends see art.

In the sunshine and to the smell of smoky grill.

And they are tired and the need to be led.

As of tomorrow I will have exercised my body every day for a week. I feel sore, strong and motivated. My attitude toward self is still poor, but I have faith that God is doing a work in me. I intend to continue placing my mind on things of heaven and not on things of the flesh. I intend to continue praying honestly and under grace. I'm swimming in grace.

Today in Fives chapel, Dr. Todd Pickett showed us two jars that normally sit on his office desk. Each jar contained sand, settled at the bottom, with clear water resting above it. As a metaphor for the muddiness of our lives, Pickett shook one of the jars so that the sand made the water brown and murky. He then informed a packed room that it would take three days for the sand to settle at the bottom of the jar. It takes three whole days after any trauma inflicted on the jar for the water to become clean and clear again. This is how I feel. My water is murky, but I know that the sand will settle - that God is working gravity out to my advantage.

Further documentation.

Let it always be known that I was who I am.

Sarah and Emily went on an adventure this evening. They dressed themselves in black and made masks out of paper bags from Trader Joe's (just being _____ conscious!). They wore pins in their hair and enjoyed each other's company. The tiny apple pie was never consumed, but apple cider proved a satisfactory choice.

Sarah and Emily are excited to learn and grow together.

Two months passed.

Junji Kurokawa/AP

A Japanese soldier walks through a flooded path in a port area in Kesennuma, May 11, 2011.

Thanks for the encouragement, dear.

"There's a difference between a failure and a fiasco. A failure is merely the absence of success. Any fool can achieve failure. But a fiasco, a fiasco is a disaster of epic proportions. A fiasco is a tale told to make other people feel more alive because it didn't happen to them."


-Elizabethtown

Today I read this poem.

Today was like sweet vacation nectar and, oh, every drop was savored. Cass and I rolled out of bed and went to the beach with her lovely mother. We ran a bit but mostly enjoyed the time before making a quick stop at the weight room and proceeding to the pool. I learned to do laps and sat in the jacuzzi and laid carelessly in the sun. I burned. I love it. We bought burritos and watched two and half episodes of Law and Order. We bought coffee and ate spaghetti and almost did Yoga. God has blessed me with a day of rest and I am working to remain fully in that rest. Rest in who He is and in who He created me to be.

And today I read this poem:

You Are Tired (I Think) by e.e. cummings

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we’ll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And I knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I’ll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

- e.e. cummings

Return, O my soul, to your rest

I really don't like the title to my last blog. I couldn't think of an appropriate title and I read that line in a book. Doesn't it seem like it is trying too hard? Who knows what I'll title this puppy - hopefully it'll be something a little less predictable.

This morning I went on a run near Sass' father's place. It was a path that overlooks a canyon and feels pretty desert-y. In fact, I only got a couple minutes into it before I stopped because I could hear a rattling over John Foreman's sweet singing in my ear bug. As in snakes. As in snakes that rattle and are called rattlesnakes. I mean, truly, it isn't a big deal. Rattle snakes exist in this part of the world, especially in a city protected habitat (think the "wetlands" in east Gresham surrounded by suburban homes) and are a part of everyday life. Of course, that doesn't mean that every time I heard a rattling I didn't whip my head in the direction of the soft and slithery din and pick up my pace. One wonderful part of my little adventure, however, was coming to a high point in the path where I could overlook the canyon. It was absolutely beautiful in a small and unexpected way.

And now, I am sitting on a back porch that overlooks said canyon from a different angle. It is welcoming from this lower, less threatening perspective and I am rather partial to the clear blue of the sky and the duller green of the canyon. It is a different beauty. Beauty changes, doesn't it? Finch is across the world experiencing the beauty that man created and appreciating the rolling of a river that is beautiful mostly because of the experiences it has had: how many have joined in its current in search of success, new life, love, fortune, war. We read about people in history books but they are not people unless we pluck them from our minds and from the prison of words on a page and deposit them in a certain place under a certain occupation with certain hopes and dreams and values. Oh, drink it in!

I looked in my journaling Bible for scripture pertaining to "rest". I was inspired by a hymn written in 1876. The words were written by Jean Pigott and they resonate clearly and loudly in my soul.

Jesus, I am resting, resting,

In the joy of what Thou art;

I am finding out the greatness

Of Thy loving heart.

Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,

And Thy beauty fills my soul,

For by Thy transforming power,

Thou hast made me whole.

I also read Hebrews 4:1-13. I felt understood for the first time in a long time this morning. I think it was the lack of "go, go, go, be, be, be, fix, fix, FIX!" that has echoed in my mind for weeks and weeks.

So, after an easy, unhurried morning of sleep, exercise, food, Jesus and (finally) a shower, I find it is afternoon and time for a jab at some homework. Cass will return soon and I will see more of her world this evening.

And bursting forth, a light so pure...

  In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ²He was in the beginning with God. ³ All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. ⁴ In him was life, and the life was the light of men. ⁵ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it


John 1:1-6

                                                                                                                                                                    

                                                                                              

                                                                                                                                                 

I want my life to be about choices, not languor.

"If we feel that any habit or pursuit, harmless in itself, is keeping us from God and sinking us deeper in the things of earth; if we find that things which others can do with impunity are for us the occasion of falling, then abstinence is our only course. Abstinence alone can recover for us the real value of what should have been our help but which has been an occasion of falling...It is necessary that we should steadily resolve to give up anything that comes between ourselves and God."


-W.R. Inge

It comes with the territory.

I am tired. 

I am getting up at eight to work this body. 

I wish I hadn't seen what I saw tonight.

Actually, I just wish I could fast forward a tiny bit. The bulk of it has passed, but I still have a bit of a pride mess to clean up. Okay, "a bit" is an understatement in the grand scheme of Sarah, however, in regards to the issue at hand, I know that I am just a little windex away from a fresh, clear perspective. I can feel it. Hopefully no birds will die when my heart is healed. #windexcommercialscreepmeout

And I don't even tweet.

Go Dove.

I must become less.

Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith-- that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

Philippians 3:8-10

My nerves are slowly calming.

Welp, I'm all interviewed up. You should have seen me marching through campus to the SUB in borrowed wedges, hair parted to the opposite side: I was a regular Rory Gilmore out to make her big impression! "Hello, World (please don't reject me)." Whatever they decide, God is in control.

Having returned to my room and stripped of all things professional, I am now strung about the futon lamenting the Melville, Russian, Feminism and Acts that will occupy the remainder of my day. I wish I could rewind this weekend and find where all the time was hid away. Maybe I'll find it in my dreams? Sleep is not to be avoided. How long will my "I just really don't want to get sick" excuse hold up? Probably not much longer. I'll have to take advantage now:

Hey, well I would love to write some more but I am feeling a bit tired. Cass has been sick, you see, and I just really don't want to catch what she has, so...I had better take a nap.

Just fall asleep tonight.

I avoid an awful lot.

This is becoming increasingly clear. Relationships, conflict, stress...I've somehow come to believe that the best way through is around. The best part is that this isn't who I thought I was: "Communicate, communicate!" persuades Sarah, oh so persuasively. But look! Is that not she taping her mouth and sneaking out the back door? Wouldn't it be easier if fraud were observable to the unobservant eye?

I think I'll change the name of my blog from "mildly aware" to "not the least bit aware." It's got a ring to it.

I'm sure you've already picked up on this, but I avoid these things in an attempt to avoid the pain, embarrassment or discomfort that they often include. In other words, I am a wuss. Or I'm smart? Or not. I bet your thinking to yourself, "Now wait a minute, what is this gal talking about? She seems a little mixed up!"

Yes.

I'm the first to admit that I'm still pretty young.

I finally organized my desktop. I feel like a new person. My eyes are tired and I really should be attending to my application for the secretarial position to the Student Missionary Union/ Associated Students, but I am feeling fanciful. What if I want to write a tale or a poem (perhaps two in one) or attempt to draw a lilac bunch. I wonder if there is a word for a lilac-bunch. Please tell me if you know.

As we speak, my dear Britt is in the air quickly approaching that old world of fashion and style and literature. Oh.

"And I'd never love a man because love and pain go hand in hand and I could never do that again."

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Desperately reaching for nets the fishermen would throw.

This morning I woke up in a room that was meant only for sleeping and I descended stairs to a kitchen that was full of food. I drank coffee that isn't see-through and I am now curled up with a throw blanket strategizing a plan for homework. Outside the streets of San Clemente are wet and the sky is a bright grey. In the distance I can see the ocean, stretching out to meet the sky with an abrupt line that must have been drawn with a ruler. The shades of blue do not blend into each other but contrast and mark the division between the heavens and the sea. The two are different, separate, absolute - much like truth and lie. There is moisture in the air and there is a hint of truth in any lie, but one can never be the other. There is absolute truth and the heavens will never be the sea.

Emily and I went to bed late last night - we didn't even take off our makeup and I when I look in the mirror my smudged eyeliner gives me a sense that everything need not be perfect, ordered or assigned. I am enjoying just simply being in this moment, in this house, and alive. I managed to forget my Bible at school, but I am remembering a Psalm - an early one - that speaks of waiting for the Lord in the morning. It speaks of trusting God to show up, to provide, to be faithful. The vague remembrance of this Psalm does two things for me: 1. It reminds me of my desperate need to memorize more (any) scripture and 2. That mornings are special times and that it is essential that we tithe our special times in honor of the Lord.

Perhaps I am simply convicted by the book I am reading for my Acts class. The book by Charles Swindoll is a biography called "Paul: A Man of Grit and Grace". The chapter I am currently reading discusses the importance, nay the vitality, of time spent in silence, solitude and obscurity with God. Paul went to "Arabia" for three years after he met Jesus on the road to Damascus and returned to become the saint we know him as today. Paul embarked on a three-year retreat! I can't even find the time for a day or a weekend! We fill our lives with busyness, stress, events, responsibilities and, when we run out of "obligations", mindlessness. I cannot remember the last time (if ever) I took a significant amount of time to retreat and meditate on the word of God and quiet myself to His whisperings. This might be difficult at Biola: I am carless and living on campus makes being alone nearly impossible, but I feel this is extremely important to my growth and to my relationship with Christ. How am I to "renew my mind" if I don't allow the time for my mind to absorb what I read or what I learn in my magnificent classes?

Also, I miss my family and my home and "my" car. I also miss my friends.
Also, I am indescribably thankful for where God has me. I am where I belong.

Me I was holding all my secrets soft and hid.

I positively do not want to do my philosophy midterm review. I want to curl up with some tea on a soft, swallowing couch and giggle with one of the Emilys or Meg(h)ans or Cass' in my life. Have I mentioned that my midterm is in less than 24 hours? After having considered the situation at length, I've decided to put off my heart's desire and keep on keepin' on. I'll pop some popcorn and get a tall glass of water, Mama Shannon Style.

My Creator has been revealing a lot to me lately. I have been very, very blind to myself and my sin and the power I have in Christ. Now the question is how do I articulate it and how do I realize it...practically. I'll need prayer.

I just want to write a real post, but my philosophy notebook is giving me dirty looks. Isn't it odd that when you are looking to avoid something everything else is infinitely more interesting?

Good gracious.

...but sometimes it hurts instead.

Garden Music 2011 from youeni on Vimeo.

I am liberated.

I am no longer bonded by sin.
I am no longer bonded by self.
I am no longer bonded to someone to whom I'm not bonded.
I am no longer bonded by fear.
I am no longer bonded by pain.

I am free to love.
I am free to obey.
I am free to heal.
I am free to be bold.
I am free to suffer.

You're nobody, girl.

What makes me think I can start clean slated?

I'm the type of person that wants to be a better person. I wish, for example, that I wrote more. Often times, a thought or phrase will pop like a firecracker into my brain and if I don't take a mental picture of the spark it will turn to smoke and waft out of my ears. Smoke is nice because it lingers, but there really isn't any substance to it.

My clarity.

Things are a tad confusing of late but I am finding that being one with Christ and the Father gives clarity before unknown.


 ²⁰ “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, ²¹ that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.

A wonderfully woven tapestry.

"We baptize the values of our culture and give them Christian names."
- Dr. Thoennes.

Tonight at Afterdark (a Wednesday night, student-run chapel), Dr. Thoennes taught out of Acts 4. Peter and John had just finished healing a man who had been crippled for life and had proceeded to share the gospel of Jesus' birth and resurrection with the crowds. The text tells us that 5,000 people came to believe just days after the city had been demanding Him crucified. The Sadducees arrested the two apostles and brought them before the council for a hearing. The apostles were then filled with the boldness of the Holy Spirit and spoke truth that the Sadducees could not deny. Yet the Sadducees denied it anyway.

Somewhere in the middle of Dr. Thoennes' sermon, he made an important point:

If the God I believe in is one that never "ticks me off", makes me feel uncomfortable, or tells me something that I don't like, then my God is no more then a projection of myself. We are fallen beings whose minds must be transformed and renewed to be like Him! When God defies my expectations of how I think He should be, I should prepare myself for a need of massive readjustment.

I think it fascinating the way that the Lord has been weaving my life together lately. So many women have been placed in my life. There is so much pain; There are so many questions. Yet the Lord is using each of them to teach me and engage with me in life-giving and edifying discussion that somehow naturally flows to fill the need of the next relationship or conversation. I'll hear a sermon or do some reading and the content will be directly relevant to a conversation I either will have or have recently been a part of. My life is looking a lot like a tapestry, my friend. A wonderfully woven tapestry.

God is good.
God is brilliant.
God provides.

February 29, 2011: Praying.

I know what it is to have dread
bubbling in the stomach,
Heart heavy, dropping inch by inch:
Weighing in the chest.
I know that we all have invisible
Arms that reach while we lay in bed, write,
Read, clean, pray. They reach
Through distances toward the ones we love,
Seeking to move, to hold, to do something more,
To shake awake, to slap, clap - to make
Some sort of noise, a statement.
I know what it is to be helpless.

I know what it is to find comfort.
Unearth truth, the Word of life
revealed in newness, wholeness,
"Oh-so-this-is-what-it-meant-ness."
Seed, His, is planted in soil,
Something soft, solid: final
Place for heavy heart to rest.
Knowledge is gained that nature,
His nature will not be changed, always
Prevails and plants will grow and weeds
Will as well and all there is to do is
Blossom.

When strivings cease.

Emily Rion and I were conversing over fancy coffee when the subject of image and Christianity came up. It was decided that none of us really know who we are. That was when I realized that I have all of these dreams of who I want to "become" and they are all completely artificial! Yes, good conversation is something to be valued, but only if it is edifying to the soul and not to one's self image! Fortune and fame are tools to spread the gospel, but they are not ends in themselves.

Why am I trying to be anything other than a woman of God?
What is it to be successful? What is it to be worthy; interesting; different?
Why do I listen to anything other than the voice of He who sustains the earth, who created me from dust and breathed life into my nostrils?

Definition is arbitrary if I find it in any other or by any other than He.
Galations 6:2 (Keep it in context).

Maybe if I told you the right words at the right time, you'd be mine.

I am on a Tracy Chapman kick. Tonight I went to the dollar theater with Joel and Mel to see the newest Chronicles of Narnia movie:

“Please, Aslan,” said Lucy. “Before we go, will you tell us when we can come back to Narnia again? Please. And oh, do, do, do make it soon.”
“Dearest,” said Aslan very gently, “you and your brother will never come back to Narnia.”
“Oh, Aslan!!” said Edmund and Lucy both together in despairing voices.
“You are too old, children,” said Aslan, “and you must begin to come close to your own world now.”
“It isn't Narnia, you know,” sobbed Lucy. “It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?”
“But you shall meet me, dear one,” said Aslan.
“Are are you there too, Sir?” said Edmund.
“I am,” said Aslan. “But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”


Didn't God bless Lewis with the most amazing mind? Listening to Aslan made me desire God. It is so wonderful to be the daughter of a God that comforts however necessary. Tonight, as I pondered the literary genius that depicts the Father as a powerful and safe lion, I was comforted. Literature is comfort to me and the Lord chooses to use that.


Do I make sense? Oh well, it's in my chest - not my mouth - anyway.

I feel myself on the edge of something.

"Bob Pierce once said,

'Don't fail to do something just because you can't do everything.' These are wise words to anyone overwhelmed with the magnitude of human suffering in our world. We are not asked to help all of them at once, just one at a time."

-The Hole in Our Gospel, Richard Stearns

I needed to read these words and Stearns was gracious to include them. I have yet to sit down to read this book without tearing up. I pray that the Lord will never let me forget what my heart is feeling right now.

I Corinthians 1:3

Grace
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name

Grace
It's a name for a girl
It's also a thought that changed the world
And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings
Grace finds goodness in everything

Grace, she's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk
She travels outside of karma
She travels outside of karma
When she goes to work
You can hear her strings
Grace finds beauty in everything

Grace, she carries a world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips between her fingertips
She carries a pearl in perfect condition

What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings
Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things

Grace makes beauty out of ugly things


-U2

I've seen people try to change

and I know it isn't easy, but nothing worth the time ever is.

I've only 20 minutes until class.

The reading is finished in time for American Lit. I am not sure it counts if it is within the last thirty minutes before the deadline - especially during the first week of school. I think this is going to be an interesting semester.

I have an interview this afternoon at 2:30. The Apologetics Office finally sent me an email late last night in response to my resume and I am grateful for my first (and hopefully my last?) interview of the semester. I will work. I will work. I will work. I should have brought my interview dress to LA.

I will also get involved in a ministry. I will no longer subscribe to this "all-talk" business. Maybe I will even have a radio show. I should probably figure my life out.

I am currently wearing my new(er) high rise jeans and a cropped shirt that Nana/Kathy gave me last year. I would be willing to bet that this sweater-shirt is older than I am. I just ordered iced tea without any flavoring or sweetener. In conclusion, I am a grandma.

Stay tuned for a excerpt from John Winthrop's "A Model of Christian Charity" circa 1630.

For we are bound by symmetry.

I keep waiting for the energy to write a fantastic first post for the new year. Well, as it turns out, the energy isn't coming and I am determined not to let a complete month go by before I get something out there. So, here it is?

I am waiting to board a plane that will take me back to Los Angeles. It will (probably) be four months before I return to the City of Roses. Four months before I kiss my mother and witness another Joe-ism. Four months. That will be the longest it has ever been.

Please write to me. I love Biola and, in a sense, I love LA, but words and sentiments from those who are North bring me comfort.