#goodness

This week I sit purely immersed in the reality that I am - and have been - truly and deeply blessed.  Far beyond my deserving I have received good gifts, both tangible and intangible, from a Father who knows, sees and attends to my every need.

Tuesday was my 22nd birthday.  It was a day in which I took each stride with gratitude; unable to even comprehend the love and grace that I am constantly given.  I felt extremely special and intentionally loved.  I both laughed and cried with joy in the midst of precious moments with, and from, beloved people in my life.

In such celebration, I am reminded of just how intently people are watching me.  I am challenged, once again, to live above reproach and walk along paths of righteousness.  Being my own worst enemy, it is easy to dwell on the things that still need growth and change in me.  Yet the words that flooded my ears and filled the pages my eyes crossed this week were of sincere encouragement. 

The Lord seemed to pointedly use those around me to remind me of who I am becoming in Him; and that the becoming part is not only perfectly okay, but His very intention.  The truth of 2 Corinthians 3:18 came alive to me once more.  I see, more clearly, how far He has brought me and that He isn't yet finished.

I celebrate another year of life with eager anticipation of what's to come and a strong acknowledgement of where I have come from.  At a junction in which I expected to feel fear, I am embracing a Spirit of power, love and self-discipline.  I have learned the immensity to which I am dependant, and called to live in humility beyond humiliation or shame.  I confidently walk into a new season; not because of who I am, but because of who He is and what He has done.

In 4 Months I Graduate From College?

I have places where I go when I just need to be.  In every city I've lived in so far, I have unintentionally built landmark-alters of remembrance.  These are places I go to wrestle with life, have a good cry or just talk to God.  In Eau Claire it was a specific bridge downtown.  I would pace, or sit, or even lie down there during the messy times of life.  In Minneapolis it was Loring Park.  There is a little flower garden there with benches that seemed to invite me to fall apart.  I can't tell you, yet, where I go in Chicago except for that this season it has been a transformed place.  The first tears I cried there, this semester, were happy ones.

I write this to reflect on the fact that this is my final semester at Moody and in Chicago.  I write to admit that I never could have anticipated falling in love with this place like I have.  Experiences, circumstances and people here have changed me.  I sigh, knowing that I've begun to "grow up" in a place that has been both a safe battleground and a solid foundation.

I look ahead to this semester differently, with a new twinkle in my eyes and heart.  During my first trip to Chicago in November of 2009, I hurriedly scrambled for my camera when I saw the first "Chicago" exit sign and snapped this blurry picture:

I now look at it knowing it perfectly captured the essence of an unpredictable journey.  Not much has been in focus, but the excitement is evident again.  That same 'this is going to be good' feeling in my gut has returned.  If this is really the last year of the world, I guess I'm going out on a high!

Romans Twelve

On June 30th, 2011 I wrote:

...Today at the home-visit I found myself wanting to judge and assess needs for myself instead of listening with a sensitive spirit of discernment.  Meran (a beautiful 22year-old Ethiopian woman, pictured below) was so patient and willing.  I thank God that He is breaking me of selfishness through these people.  I want to continue to learn to serve and see through a lens of forgiveness and mercy.  I want to give because I've been given to; love because I'm loved...

People aren't projects or formulas.  We are intricately woven, uniquely wired and continually being taken from one level of glory to the next.  This redefinition of my perception of people that began this summer has really become a posture of mine. 

Most people I encounter, mark me; they leave a stamp on my soul or take a piece of my heart.  But it's different when I don't feel responsible to fix them.  Suddenly that ache to 'make it better' melts into a practicing of weeping and rejoicing as those around me weep and rejoice - (and everything in between).  Freedom! 

Ethiopia continues to change and grow me.  Being an RA has been another one of the best and maturing experiences of my life.  I can't help but shake my head at the undeserved blessings I walk in daily.

there is no "me" in control

It was recently proposed to me that the idea of sleep, and it's necessity, should remind us that we're not God.  I need a near daily shut-down time; a physical break from reality.  God doesn't.

One of my professors pointed out that "people have a need to be in control of their own lives...and they have a need to know that God approves of that idea".

What a sticky thing to admit to.  Yet, guilty is my plea.

I like to think that I am in control, or have control, or at least have access to control.  This is detrimental from the ground, up.  I suddenly take on responsibility where I wasn't intended to.  I sacrifice self-control as a discipline and replace it with feigned control of my, and others', circumstances.

But God (one of my favorite biblically-used transitions) knows me.

It took but one sunrise (which is what these photos are from: one of the glorious fall Lake Michigan Sunrises I've experienced) to get my attention and challenge my perspective again.

You feel pretty small standing on the edge of the water, watching the sun climb up the sky and burst from the clouds.  I begin to take myself a little less seriously as I realize how deeply I have fooled myself into thinking I wanted control.

In spontaneous freedom I am reminded that I am not responsible for any one's happiness; my job is to glorify God (period).  I am not in control of his/her well-being.

Where that once made me feel uncomfortable, I now find curiosity in learning passive obedience.  I have begun to recognize my insecurities and reassess the places to which I have attached my worth.

I am back on my 'toes', eager to learn to live in hope instead of dreaming of control. 

I spin a lot of plates, and sometimes it seems that I am able to do it quite well.  But it's time for some better life-managing.

There is an innocent freedom found in simply waking up and realizing, once again, that I was sleeping (because I am not God).  I was never intended or wired to be in ultimate control.

As I move beyond recognition and into implication(s), I know there will be opposition.  So I place one foot in front of the other with sword in hand: "As for me, may I never boast about anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Because of that cross, because of Him, my interest in this world has been crucified, and the world's interest in me has also died" (Galatians 6:14).

And I promise to keep rambling on here as I go.

okay to not be okay

Pain. I keep coming back to this idea.  It's not an idea really, it's an emotion; well, not even an emotion -- a reality.  It's a state of being.  Though usually temporary, it is nearly always personified.  It is typically not sought out; rather, it happens to us, in us, around us.  I used to avoid it at all cost.  If it presented itself predictably, I ran, hid or flat-out denied its existence or affects.  Now?  I've grown quite fond of pain.

Even to my ears that sounds purely twisted.  Fond of pain?  Maybe it would be better stated that: I have grown to appreciate what it is and does in my life (and our world).  Pain keeps us aware of our humanity, morality and vitality.  It challenges us, usually pointedly acknowledging that somewhere within us we have an understanding that we lack a 'shalom' we were created for.  There is an uncomfortable sting that something is not what it is supposed to be -- that tension hurts.  It awakens us to our senses.  It changes us.

Today I heard the story of a 14yr old boy in a detention center in Chicago.  He's there for selling drugs.  His mom got laid off last fall and he has never known a dad.  He's got a baby sister and the three of them lived in an apartment on the west side.  His mom couldn't find work.  His sister cried herself to sleep hungry, and eviction was only a matter of weeks away.  He understood the need for money.  He held his crying sister, terrified of what life would look like on the cold streets, and did the only thing he thought he could: sell to survive.

Pain.  It settled in on me.  That this-isn't-how-it's-supposed-to-be feeling created an unmistakable twinge in my heart and mind.  With wet eyes, I began to smile; acknowledging the collision of Kingdom-ache and supernatural-joy.  Pain was changing me in that moment.  I am not the same because of one story, one circumstance that brought about the weight of a reality I can't ignore.  Pain alerts us to the fact that something isn't right; something is worth giving attention to.

Pain: I still may not seek it, but I welcome it.