HelloGoodbye, and I don't mean the band

This season of life is controlled chaos. In a matter of twelve months I will have spent time in Illinois, Wisconsin, Texas, Minnesota and Ethiopia. I have taken the liberty of titling this chapter: life from a suitcase.

If it has taught me anything about myself, it’s that:
I love arriving, but I hate leaving.

I find joy in looking forward. I like for things to change and shift; I thrive in the new and different. This has worked to my benefit as I've kept pace with a number of opportunities.

I can become almost obsessive with what's next, however. I was recently telling a friend that being an RA means I am obligated to return in the fall. And then I laughed. I love it here, I seriously do. For the first time in a while I feel as though I really belong. But I wouldn't put it past my adventure-craving self to want something new: which I do realize would be incredibly irresponsible and irrational. I share this just to admit how deeply unsettled I tend to be.

This itch to continually start new seasons in my life, however, doesn't exist without irony. I have a really hard time leaving. Once I'm "there", I'm off and running. The transition period itself, on the other hand, is my weak point. I'm not so good at 'goodbye'. Honestly, it's not such a big deal or problem in and of itself. But this semester, I've realized it's deeper than my circumstances. It's a condition of my heart.

There are circumstances, dreams, thoughts, attitudes and relationships of my life that are changing and being made new. This is what I want[ed], hope[d] and pray[ed] for. Yet here I am, throwing a fit in the transition; because leaving the old is hard, uncomfortable and scary.

I am learning what it looks like to live out Philippians 2:13, "For it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure".
Another translation reads: "For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases Him".

Take heart, take hope.

Close To Home

Gunshots ring out in River North; officers wounded and suspect dead - Chicago Sun-Times



Recently, there was a fatal shooting on the southwest corner of our campus.



Something about being within ear-shot of flying bullets puts mortality in stark perspective. Moments of chaos like this one have been littered throughout the past seven months of my life.



Beyond my control I have watched and listened. I've spent days in the hospital with people I love; and wished I could've been there for others still. I have walked with peers; sharing many silent moments on the phone and untangling life over lunch tables.



I've sat with broken high school-ers as they try to learn to dream again, against all odds...Wrestled with inner-city schooling, at a Christian elementary, to the point of tears.



Sometimes the color fades to shades of gray and clarity gets lost in reality. The romanticized adult life wasn't supposed to have this shifting focus. Or was it?

A year of re-re-re-re-re-re-focus; keeping me on my knees, opening my heart to love. This is the good stuff.

another chapter

I'm teaching two Pre-K classes this semester at a Chinese Christian school. I'm learning more than I could've ever imagined.

Enter Friday's Super Scientists Class.

Bruce is four; he has the curiosity and energy to prove it.

He likes to know what everyone is doing, all of the time. Instead of sitting with his own project or experiment, he's typically found wandering from one peer to another until he's accounted for the where-abouts and what-abouts of the 11 other students. He likes to help, so it's not all bad.

Today there were three rotating stations. Bruce was very engaged in the first, but insisted on skipping the second - because the third looked more exciting. He didn't understand that the sequence was necessary to the learning process. He wouldn't be convinced that the rules were set up for his good. If only he would trust me and wait, something more and better than he was even imagining would come.

Kicking, flailing, and grunting I carried him to his seat. I tried to softly convince him of my reasoning. When that didn't work, I bribed him a little. And when that didn't phase him, I resorted to all out begging! It was as if he didn't hear me. Or perhaps it was that he was sure his way was best, and therefore deemed my input as untrustworthy and unnecessary.

The only time he would stay in his seat was if I were holding his hand, literally. He wasn't calm by any means, but he remained on the chair if he felt my hand and heard my voice. But having eleven other 'eager beavers' just doesn't allow for this sort of one-on-one attention consistently.

It was quite the scene. It resulted in spilt water and a mess of pepper. His experiment didn't work properly because his persistence to 'do it his way' proportioned the materials incorrectly. The sequence of unfortunate events continued as his clear disappointment turned into jealousy and frustration. Why didn't his experiment work? Did I (the teacher) mess his up on purpose!? And how did his shirt get wet and his table space full of black specs? At the end of the day all of the other kids had something to take home from the second station, but not Bruce.

Even in my frustration I empathized with my four year old friend.

I had to come to accept the fact that I have been in a similar mind-set, it just isn't as cute or excusable on me.

I'm found looking around and ahead as if I could wish my way into something else. I haven't lost joy or excitement in watching others be blessed, but I have been prone to jealousy - more than usual.

It's not that this "station" is bad or unpleasant; I just felt much more engaged in the last, and the next one looks a little more appealing from where I sit. I understand the concept of the 'big picture' and that this season of preparation is absolutely necessary; yet I'm found anxious in heart, mind, and body.

My selfishness wants to reach for control, wants to make a change just for the sake of change. Instead of listening, I'm frequently found trying to convince or bargain my way out of present circumstances.

Not-so-ironically, like Bruce, there are times I sit stupidly still as I feel the hand of the Teacher. I have moments where I am silently taken back by His attention, yet I am then quick to get distracted or squirm again.

Also like this four year old, I make a mess of things. I'm left frustrated and hurt by my own choosing; yet wanting to blame anything and anyone else.

It took me some time to see, and even more to admit. Now it's time for change. It's time I reconcile my attitude with the will of my Father. My heart is being refined, and I don't want to miss one beat. Again Philippians 2:13 is personified to and in me. It's time I look up instead of all around me, and time I kneel instead of run. I trust because my every need is met. I'm thirsty for wisdom and understanding. I feel the weight of the truths in Ecclesiastes;, learning to enjoy what I have and removing grief & anger from my heart, and pain from my body. I'm beginning to ache to live in light of Ephesians 5; imitating the Creator unconditionally and walking in His will.

I write today because my heart and mind are full. I write because I know my inconsistency needs an accountability restraint. and I write today in case you need to borrow my experience to let God speak to your heart.

My Ache-y Break-y Heart

I like the Ravens, a lot. Now you may be found shaking your head or smirking. For which I'll cut you some slack seeing as this fetish did start semi-recently. But it proved it's genuineness as I watched the game on Saturday and found myself emotionally tied to the players and coaches. And they lost. I don't want to talk about that anymore.



Seriously though, my heart is ache-y brake-y lately and I come not to vent or complain, but to share.

I returned to Moody this semester, ready for the next thing(s). Having been filled with time at home among family and friends. Yet I have felt more separation this semester than ever before. I miss people like I never have before. Leaving has never really been difficult for me. But now that I'm a second semester junior in college it's harder than ever... haha, what!? I have a theory that it's simply because this is the first time I've spent three consecutive semesters in one place away from home. I returned this semester knowing full-well what to expect. Well, except for the ripping at my heart in the separation from people I love. No matter the root reason, I know the answer is to seek the comfort of my Father. I won't believe that I'm alone, and I'm learning to stand in who I am regardless of my emotions.

I also stepped back into my internship with By The Hand this week. It's an inner-city after-school program for kids in an area notoriously known as some of Chicago's 'Projects'. This semester however, will look a little different. I'll be working one-on-one with a few of the older girls there. I have the opportunity to do some pre-college counseling, scholarship searching, touring, and applying with them. Beyond walking them through and encouraging them in the "what comes after high school" experience, I just feel blessed to do life with them. Today I was shook up as I got a verbal picture painted for me by one of my supervisors of one of the girls. The experiences these kids bring to the table are unbelievable. What they know as "normal", leaves my mouth gawking. Their backgrounds and their present is scattered with things I may never see, hear, or know in my lifetime. It breaks my heart. I have to be with them. I know this semester will hold a battlefield of emotions for me as I wrestle through the mental, spiritual, and relational things to come, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

These are just a couple of things that have already marked this season of my life as one of testing and refinement. I could ramble through other current experiences or add depth to what I've shared, but the bottom line is that I'm learning to live in the fire. I'm pretty raw and my reactions are mostly unpredictable, but I have agreed to be emotion-full before my Father. Here's to letting the Potter make my heart a little more like His.

Untitled

There is a man who frequents the coffee shop I worked at in Eau Claire. For the sake of privacy, I'll refer to him as Pete.

One Saturday this past summer Pete came in and I didn't have to ask if his heart was heavy, because his eyes said it all. As an attempt to distract, I offered his usual. While he solemnly nodded his head - biting his lip as he forced a smile - I whispered asking God for the strength to meet him in the middle of his pain. As I made his sandwich he reminded me of the fact that he stops by to get a bite to eat on his way to the cemetery, to see his wife's grave, (who passed three years ago). Acknowledging that I heard him, I thanked him for choosing to come; chuckling in agreement that he wasn't going to find a better lunch in town. While his sandwich cooked, I came back around the counter to hand him a drink when he asked if I'd like to see a picture of his wife... I readily agreed.

Pete came back from his car, slowly - (he's almost 90 after all); and as he set her picture on the counter, the wrinkles on his face became a sort of pinball course for the tears wetting the collar of his shirt. Attempting to offer comfort, I asked where he met such a beautiful gal. His face lit up and his eyes seemed to enter a past realm as he vividly described the way he had come back from war and saw her dancing at a school dance. He reminisced about the way he confidently looked her in the eye and said "you know, I'm guna' marry you"... going on to say "and two years later, she said yes"! He laughed, sighed, and cried as he reminisced some of the moments they'd shared.

I share this story today because I didn't realize then what I was learning. I was merely a listener; yet my ears offered consoling that I can't explain. This semester has been one in which so many of the relationships in my life have been marked by trying situations; people I walk with daily are seemingly battling the weight of life. In the midst of this, I'm learning the value of meeting them in their muck. I'm realizing the importance of simply sharing life as Romans 12* paints it. I have less answers to offer, but a softened heart. I can't promise to take away all their hurt, fear, or trials - but I can share with them the love of my Jesus. As I rediscover the power of a person's story, I'm embracing the intimacy that comes with transparency and displacement. I'm reminded this season that I have but scratched the surface in living the truth that it's simply not about me.




*Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep. 16 Live in harmony with each other. Don’t be too proud to enjoy the company of ordinary people. And don’t think you know it all!" -Romans 12:15-16 (NLT)

A Total UN-Eclipse of the Heart

Phew! So honestly, these past couple nights are really the first time I've had time & space to process the past few weeks. And quite frankly, they haven't been super easy. In fact, many aspects of "my world" have experienced a sort of paradigm shift, if they've not been flipped completely upside down.

Back in May, I began to allow myself into the darker parts of my heart as a renovation began to take place. I was unpleasantly surprised to find that I have cultivated wickedness and harvested a thriving crop of sins. I have eaten the fruit of lies. (Hosea 10:12-13). Yet as that journey began, I was also assured that I was safe. "I am the one who answers your prayers and cares for you. I am like a tree that is always green; all your fruit comes from me.” - Hosea 14:8

Admittedly however, I've felt anything but safe starting out the semester this fall. I've been challenged and surprised; relationally, vocationally, financially, academically, physically, spiritually, etc.

When I'm honest, I can confess that my biggest human character flaw is inconsistency. Too often I've suffered from a mind of fear, or been seemingly paralyzed by a hesitant heart. It's the difference between able and willing. This past summer was one during which I learned how very capable I am. In the midst of some colorful trials of mind, body, and spirit; I was shown more and more of who God says I am - who He created me to be. And now that I've walked through that, it's a new chapter of answering will I?s instead of can I?s.

As if to obliterate any potential misunderstanding, ideas like these have recurrently appeared in my life recently.
A professor of mine, Professor Craigen, was speaking in class this past week and it gave me chills. He was raising the idea that so often we sit and debate what kind of light we are, instead of just going to be one. We ask 'am I evangelical, protestant, baptist, pentacostal, etc, etc'. Are we missing the point? We want to know more and more; hear more sermons and read more books. We subscribe to podcasts and keep up on blogs. Isn't it more important that we put what we're learning into practice. He challenged us to take one idea, one thing, from each Sunday we attend church and live it, expecting nothing less than for our life and those around us to radically change.
During chapel in the first week of school, one of the speakers quoted a chinese proverb that reads something like "we spend so much time cursing the darkness instead of lighting a candle". I sit and study theology instead of going out and getting uncomfortable. I make excuses because displacing myself is messy. When the reality is we weren't meant to merely survive the world, we were meant to change it. However, that requires an uncircumstancial willingness and selflessness. I hope and pray that those qualities grow in me. I don’t want to just go through the motions of life. I know I won’t be satisfied looking back if I haven’t written a story worth reading.

So I raise my metaphorical glass to stretching myself. I've seen but a glimpse of the challenges to come, but I've also only had a mere peek at the joy to come. My own heart is becoming more and more visible to me. As my faith and trust is tested, my expectancy grows. This semester already has been, and will most likely continue to be, one that pushes me to the very edge of everything I believe, think, or know. Hello to a new chapter of learning, refining my faith, renovating my heart, deepening relationships, standing in the rain, challenging my everything, and praying unceasingly through it all.

Thanks for journeying with me.

The Diagnosis

I'm kind of a metaphor-o-holic; I just love them. I especially like using the medical model. So bear with me as I share from that sort of perspective.

I read recently of a woman who had cancer in her intestines. From the looks of things it didn't seem terminal and, (with the amazing technology we have at our disposal), removable. So a procedure was done in which four small incisions are made through which medical tools are inserted to more-or-less suck out the cancer. (It all seems like a video game of sorts to me). After the surgery, she recovered and appeared to be cancer-free. However only months later she was informed that it had "come back" more viciously than before. A second procedure was done in which surgeons pried her wide open on the operating table and hand-cut every piece of cancer, or pre-cancerous, material out. Now this is a gory picture; I know if I were in that operating room I'd be at least a little pale and nauseous (and that's if I were conscious)! I share it though because that's what the Great Physician has had to do with my heart.

I have a crippling, destructive, and aggressive disease: Fear. This is a condition whose very nature is anything but benign. It breeds lies, anger, confusion, frustration, selfishness, hurt, complacency, sadness, and even feigned apathy. Symptoms include swelling of pride, rapid heart-beat and restlessness, scattered thinking, unnecessary controlling tendencies, unusual pressure (as if carrying the world) on shoulder(s), and reoccurring thoughts of escaping, avoiding, and/or hiding, among others. It's most affected victims usually suffer from stagnancy; as it ranges from worry to panic to dread (to everything in between) to full-blown-crippling fear.

Once diagnosed, it's best to address the issue immediately. After all, the Great Physician doesn't ask us to ignore fear; instead to cast it on Him*. But, if not properly taken care of, it will return... most likely bigger and badder than ever before. You see, I'd opted with the less invasive procedure for my fear. And honestly, it worked for a time. Or perhaps I was able to ignore the initial returning symptoms. Whatever the matter, I was faced with a similar diagnosis recently but this time I knew it was time to address more than just the symptoms. Though more invasive, intrusive, and risky... my case called for all-out open heart surgery.

It's been a sort of on-going procedure this semester. Admittedly at times I get disgusted and even nauseous upon seeing some of the junk coming out of there. And truthfully, it's painful. I am continually tempted to numb myself with media, busyness, or other excuses. But I can't help but be reminded that these anesthetics are merely temporary and fleeting. Instead, in the midst of my squirming, I can't ignore the voice steadily saying "Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you."**

I'm vulnerable and fragile, but hopeful and confident. I relate to the Corinthians when it was written "In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead." (Emphasis added)***. Like the psalmist David, I beg the Creator to "create in me a clean heart"#. I confidently walk toward the day of living in Freedom; a complete trust in, and obedience to, the Father. I've wasted so much time needing people instead of loving them and it's about time that changes. I've spent so much time planning instead of listening, and scurrying instead of seeking. Hello to the chapter of renovation, transformation and getting well, that I've been praying for. You've arrived sooner than I expected, but right on time.


*1 Peter 5:7
**Isaiah 41:10
***2 Corinthians 1:9
#Psalm 51:10