I've had a life-changing experience as of late, and I want people to know about it.
My heart has not been in full surrender to neither the reality of Jesus nor the love of Jesus. Through some vulnerability with great friends and wise words from a lot of them and other sources (J.D. Greer's "gospel" series, for instance) I've realized that true contentment and peace can only come from a love for God, which can only be through a love for Jesus Himself.
But I've known this. In my head.
I'm a theology girl; I like logical theology and rationalizing how God and Jesus makes sense. I'm a sinner, I need a Savior, God loves me and died for me to save me. It makes sense, and I love that the Gospel makes since. And I love this theology; it's beautiful, and without it true love for Jesus could not exist.
But relationship with God, with Jesus, is so much for than logical theology.
I'm also a highly passionate girl. I love passion, actually. I can fall in love in a second. I go on adventures, some more sketch than others, for the sake of thrill, like going on a bike ride at 1 in the morning, or going to Turkey for 3 months by myself, etc. I get bored a lot, I'm discontent a lot, that's why I do them.
This summer, I got really bored. With myself and with my situations, so I made some mistakes, huge leaps into a life that didn't resemble anything that I knew to be true. It took these mistakes to make me realize how uncontent my heart was.
But the discontent didn't stop when the leaves started changing. This semester I've gone through spouts of depression, mostly guilt driven and selfishly based; normal for a response to some decisions I've made. I was honestly to the point where I felt miserably hopeless inside. Hopeless. Not the emotions that come out of a Christian's heart. Something was evidently wrong.
HELLO. Jesus. My heart honestly did not belong to Him.
It's so elementary, but we cannot miss the love and the blessings that are given to us through a relationship with Jesus. Jesus is real. Just to reiterate, JESUS IS REAL. He comes to us in our real hopelessness, our real discontentedness and literally lifts us out of them. His jealous love will not leave us abandoned to the World. And just to reiterate, Jesus is real. And so is a relationship with Him. It's not a metaphor. It's not just a nice idea. The person of Jesus makes relationship with God real and His Spirit is inside of us; only this kind of passion can fulfill a passion-craved World.
God is so patient with His children. He is so patient with us who wander about aimlessly, even knowing the truth, and turn to things to rationalize our existence.
Ask Jesus to be more than logical theology for you; ask him to be real. He will be real. I've experienced peace this week in a way that I know is only from Him. It's the peace that the Bible talks about and is unknown to the World. I'm not sure why it's taken me so long to realize that my heart can fall in love with Jesus, that my passion can go crazy for Him. That actually, my heart was made with a passion that was meant to fall in love with Him. Seek Him; He'll answer you.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
why i love middle schoolers
Sometimes things happen that make you realize why you love certain things and why you choose to do the things you do. Today I was reminded why I chose to teach Middle Schoolers.
It was my last day student teaching. I left for 2 minutes to go to the bathroom. When I come back, the entire class had moved to stand on the left side of the room.
"What's going on...?" I asked quite awkwardly.
"This is our awkward way of telling you 'Thankyou'." said the boy that I thought wasn't too fond of me.
We all bent over in laughter.
It was my last day student teaching. I left for 2 minutes to go to the bathroom. When I come back, the entire class had moved to stand on the left side of the room.
"What's going on...?" I asked quite awkwardly.
"This is our awkward way of telling you 'Thankyou'." said the boy that I thought wasn't too fond of me.
We all bent over in laughter.
Monday, April 11, 2011
"When music affects us to tears, seemingly causeless, we weep not... from excess of pleasure; but through excess of an impatient, petulant sorrow that, as mere mortals, we are as yet in no condition to banquet upon those supernal ecstasies of which the music affords us merely a suggestive and indefinite glimpse."
-Poe, the death-dwelling, musically inspired, beauty-seeking, opium-driven gentleman of the 19th century
-Poe, the death-dwelling, musically inspired, beauty-seeking, opium-driven gentleman of the 19th century
Thursday, April 7, 2011
probably the first paragraph in a chapter of some book i might one day write, maybe
It was the time of day when you wouldn't know, upon looking at the sun, if it was dawn or dusk. It was the type of evening when everything seemed fresh and new, even the birds were singing as if they had a day yet to live. But the memories of the day reminded her what time it was, and she was saddened by the truth that the day she had been looking forward to had ended. How another day could give her the same joy she had felt that day, she doubted to be possible.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
I am tired of worthless trends
and making man your ultimate end.
Take off your headphones, and stop.
maybe quit running and just walk
to enjoy the details of my nature
and the fullness of my heart.
You've become too familiar with this world
All I want is your heart.
I'll do what I have to do
to get you to see me.
and making man your ultimate end.
Take off your headphones, and stop.
maybe quit running and just walk
to enjoy the details of my nature
and the fullness of my heart.
You've become too familiar with this world
All I want is your heart.
I'll do what I have to do
to get you to see me.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
homes, regret, hope
I'm about to leave Texas.. the place where I was born.. where my sister lives. I've been on spring break here for the past week, and I've felt at home for the first time since last summer. Even though my sister, her husband, and their new daughter are the only people I know here, I've felt at home.
"what makes me feel at home?" i've been asking myself.
There's so much in my life that I wish I could do over. This stupid diabetes thing.. I wish I would have known that sugar made me a demon. My sister even told me this week that I'm so different, like a new person. It's the first time we've been together without fighting for longer than a day. I wonder how much hurt I would have saved if I would have known that I shouldn't eat sugar. I wonder how many relationships I would have saved, and how many decisions I would have made differently.
Maybe I wouldn't have destroyed the relationships that make me feel at home. The only reason I still have my relationship with my sister is because she's family, and family doesn't leave.
I am so thankful for family, and frustrated with how I've dealt with the rest.
Is anyone else frustrated with their lives?
I know Christ sanctifies and disciplines His children, but I'm still so frustrated with things because I feel there is so much I could have done differently that was in my control. Things outside of my control I can handle, but things that I know are in my hands.. I can't handle those.
I guess there's no reason to look back and regret. But there's every reason to look forward, in hope. Hope that His faithfulness will work through my idiocy and lead me to my rest.
"what makes me feel at home?" i've been asking myself.
There's so much in my life that I wish I could do over. This stupid diabetes thing.. I wish I would have known that sugar made me a demon. My sister even told me this week that I'm so different, like a new person. It's the first time we've been together without fighting for longer than a day. I wonder how much hurt I would have saved if I would have known that I shouldn't eat sugar. I wonder how many relationships I would have saved, and how many decisions I would have made differently.
Maybe I wouldn't have destroyed the relationships that make me feel at home. The only reason I still have my relationship with my sister is because she's family, and family doesn't leave.
I am so thankful for family, and frustrated with how I've dealt with the rest.
Is anyone else frustrated with their lives?
I know Christ sanctifies and disciplines His children, but I'm still so frustrated with things because I feel there is so much I could have done differently that was in my control. Things outside of my control I can handle, but things that I know are in my hands.. I can't handle those.
I guess there's no reason to look back and regret. But there's every reason to look forward, in hope. Hope that His faithfulness will work through my idiocy and lead me to my rest.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
family
Ah, I've learned a lot in the past three years.
I've learned that I'm a lot more arrogant than I believed,
and that I have so much to learn,
like when I thought that I could do it all alone, friend.
I've learned that I'm not too good at waiting,
but I've been waiting on a lot,
like when I waited for you, brother.
I've learned that things tend to change,
but it's my emotions that change the most,
like that time when I hurt you, sister.
I've learned that I'm impatient,
and that's different from not being good at waiting,
like that time when I spat at you, mother
I still need to learn,
I still need to learn so much, Father.
I've learned that I'm a lot more arrogant than I believed,
and that I have so much to learn,
like when I thought that I could do it all alone, friend.
I've learned that I'm not too good at waiting,
but I've been waiting on a lot,
like when I waited for you, brother.
I've learned that things tend to change,
but it's my emotions that change the most,
like that time when I hurt you, sister.
I've learned that I'm impatient,
and that's different from not being good at waiting,
like that time when I spat at you, mother
I still need to learn,
I still need to learn so much, Father.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
a laugh
I heard the most beautiful sound today. It was the sound of real laughter. Not a laughter amounting from some joke or from too much sugar. No, this laugh emerged from something much greater; it was the laugh of a heart that realized its true hope; it understood freedom from death. It was after singing songs of worship, Christ-exalting, genuine, grace-inspired worship that a girl behind me caught a glimpse of true hope, of the promise for her eternity with Christ. She began to clap loudly, shockingly loud at first, but her voice joined in harmony with the joy her hands were expressing, and she began in jubilant child-like laughter, more free than any bird's song this world has ever heard.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Here's to you, Carrboro
I wrote this for my writing class.. we could write about anything. It's a descriptive-experience short write, but the end has an interesting turn. I liked it, so i put it on my blog that no one really reads. I also like Carrboro, sometimes. read on:
My life as a UNC student is different from most. The majority of UNC students either live in dorms on campus or in apartments in Chapel Hill, but some choose to live in the city of Carrboro. Anyone who has ever been to Carrboro knows the implications behind its name, and there are words that I could use to describe it to you, but you would not fully understand the nature of this place unless you went there yourself. There are families that live in Carrboro, families that may choose not to eat meat, never use plastic bags, or make their children eat only food that’s organic. There are also young college graduates here that have allowed their creative sides to take the reign; hair in dreads and clothes all made from scratch, the stereotype Carrboro “hipster” tends to be found at Weaver Street Market reading a novel or engaging in conversation over a cup of Chai. The popular hipsters make it a habit of going to Open Eye Café to attend to their graduate-upper-level-intelligence work that is always done on a laptop. It is, certainly, a sight to see, and daily I experience culture shock when going back and forth from this city of oddities to the more normal, quainter, town of Chapel Hill.
Every morning, after I feast on a bowl of Kashi cereal and the occasional scrambled egg, I hop on my bike carrying my backpack with everything including food that I will need for the day. The ride isn’t too long unless it’s in January, but I’ve boughten a pair of ski gloves for those days. Every morning I pass the house with the skull on the front porch; no one knows if it’s left over from Halloween or just a desired yearly front porch ornament. The oddness of this is overcome, however, when I ride by my favorite house in Carrboro: a white one-story house with a wraparound porch lined with always-lit Paris lights. The tire swing dangling from the old Oak on its one acre lot makes me jealous of every fortunate person that gets to live there; sometimes during the evenings you can find them sitting on the front porch playing their guitars and fiddles. Snapping into reality, I weave in and out of traffic (it’s a miracle I’ve never been hit), and make it to the bike path that flirts with an old railroad track. One day I was late to class because I had to wait on a train to finish chugging through; what student is late to class because of a train crossing?
This bike path is a combination of the most relaxing yet creepy places you could be; depending on the people that happen to be on it while you are. The mornings are the relaxing times, because students like me tend to be going to and from classes, and it’s quiet, but sometimes in the afternoons the woman that talks to herself is roaming the premises. There is a place in my heart that has compassion and sympathy for her, but it is an eerie thing to hear her loudly belt words that I don’t really understand. Then there’s the wheel-chaired homeless man that says hello to me every time I see him, hating the grocery store list I’m planning in my head because I know that he hasn’t sat at a table for dinner in years. Finally, I get to Columbia Street where Chapel Hill begins: quaint houses filled with college students. The stoplight by the fraternity houses always makes me stop, but I actually enjoy the stop on Mondays when you can see all the red solo cups lingering from the weekend’s party; I giggle at stereotype. Passing through more stoplights and sidewalk crossings, I finally make it to the bike rack where I park my bike for the day. Pretending that my morning has been normal, I walk into class and take notes with all the students who woke up in dorms surrounded by students just like themselves, but all I can think about is that homeless man in the wheelchair.
My life as a UNC student is different from most. The majority of UNC students either live in dorms on campus or in apartments in Chapel Hill, but some choose to live in the city of Carrboro. Anyone who has ever been to Carrboro knows the implications behind its name, and there are words that I could use to describe it to you, but you would not fully understand the nature of this place unless you went there yourself. There are families that live in Carrboro, families that may choose not to eat meat, never use plastic bags, or make their children eat only food that’s organic. There are also young college graduates here that have allowed their creative sides to take the reign; hair in dreads and clothes all made from scratch, the stereotype Carrboro “hipster” tends to be found at Weaver Street Market reading a novel or engaging in conversation over a cup of Chai. The popular hipsters make it a habit of going to Open Eye Café to attend to their graduate-upper-level-intelligence work that is always done on a laptop. It is, certainly, a sight to see, and daily I experience culture shock when going back and forth from this city of oddities to the more normal, quainter, town of Chapel Hill.
Every morning, after I feast on a bowl of Kashi cereal and the occasional scrambled egg, I hop on my bike carrying my backpack with everything including food that I will need for the day. The ride isn’t too long unless it’s in January, but I’ve boughten a pair of ski gloves for those days. Every morning I pass the house with the skull on the front porch; no one knows if it’s left over from Halloween or just a desired yearly front porch ornament. The oddness of this is overcome, however, when I ride by my favorite house in Carrboro: a white one-story house with a wraparound porch lined with always-lit Paris lights. The tire swing dangling from the old Oak on its one acre lot makes me jealous of every fortunate person that gets to live there; sometimes during the evenings you can find them sitting on the front porch playing their guitars and fiddles. Snapping into reality, I weave in and out of traffic (it’s a miracle I’ve never been hit), and make it to the bike path that flirts with an old railroad track. One day I was late to class because I had to wait on a train to finish chugging through; what student is late to class because of a train crossing?
This bike path is a combination of the most relaxing yet creepy places you could be; depending on the people that happen to be on it while you are. The mornings are the relaxing times, because students like me tend to be going to and from classes, and it’s quiet, but sometimes in the afternoons the woman that talks to herself is roaming the premises. There is a place in my heart that has compassion and sympathy for her, but it is an eerie thing to hear her loudly belt words that I don’t really understand. Then there’s the wheel-chaired homeless man that says hello to me every time I see him, hating the grocery store list I’m planning in my head because I know that he hasn’t sat at a table for dinner in years. Finally, I get to Columbia Street where Chapel Hill begins: quaint houses filled with college students. The stoplight by the fraternity houses always makes me stop, but I actually enjoy the stop on Mondays when you can see all the red solo cups lingering from the weekend’s party; I giggle at stereotype. Passing through more stoplights and sidewalk crossings, I finally make it to the bike rack where I park my bike for the day. Pretending that my morning has been normal, I walk into class and take notes with all the students who woke up in dorms surrounded by students just like themselves, but all I can think about is that homeless man in the wheelchair.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Strangers of Love (elongate ramble on love)
I am overwhelmingly convinced that we do not emphasize love enough. That might sound cliche or like old school news, but love is the apex of obedience in following Christ, right? John 15, we are called to remain in Christ so that we can bear fruit. We can only bear fruit if we remain in the vine, which is Christ. What does it mean to remain in the vine? He answers us: obey my commands. He even tells us what his command is: "love each other as I have loved you."
What makes this so pivotal in our lives is that the world does not easily love. The world is concerned about one thing and that is the betterment of itself. This isn't something we're estranged to. Just watch any tv show for an hour. Just listen to your friends, or yourself, for only a minute.
But what gets me even more is the way we (people in my life, at least) talk about and view love. I'm not excluding myself. I have been known to say every single one of these phrases: "I love seeing you!", "I love those earrings!", "I looove that show!", and my favorite: "Do ya love it?!"
And then we expect the words, "I love you" to break through relationship ground. It just doesn't anymore.
Our culture has made love so meaningless. At least, that's what I see from my own experience. People saying they love each other at weddings and then getting divorced because they aren't happy with their lives. (Don't get me started on Valentine's Day. 'hey, let's make a day where we decide to love each other more and I'll buy you a bear holding a heart that represents my growing love for you.' I just don't know about that.)
"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." That has nothing to do with "I". That's sacrifice, the opposite of "I", what God Himself did for us. Shouldn't we respond to love like that with similar love in return?
Man, we got to learn love each other. We have to learn how to sacrifice ourselves, feelings, desires, time, and energy for the good of our brothers&sisters. This is love. Even in romantic relationships, the romance won't linger for long, but sacrifice will.
Deciding: "I am going to love this person". Even when you're not happy about it. Even when it's not for your best interest. Isn't that love?
If it is, I'm a rather unloving person. God help me. Maybe I'm just a negative person, but I would go so far as to say we are all strangers of love.
What makes this so pivotal in our lives is that the world does not easily love. The world is concerned about one thing and that is the betterment of itself. This isn't something we're estranged to. Just watch any tv show for an hour. Just listen to your friends, or yourself, for only a minute.
But what gets me even more is the way we (people in my life, at least) talk about and view love. I'm not excluding myself. I have been known to say every single one of these phrases: "I love seeing you!", "I love those earrings!", "I looove that show!", and my favorite: "Do ya love it?!"
And then we expect the words, "I love you" to break through relationship ground. It just doesn't anymore.
Our culture has made love so meaningless. At least, that's what I see from my own experience. People saying they love each other at weddings and then getting divorced because they aren't happy with their lives. (Don't get me started on Valentine's Day. 'hey, let's make a day where we decide to love each other more and I'll buy you a bear holding a heart that represents my growing love for you.' I just don't know about that.)
"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." That has nothing to do with "I". That's sacrifice, the opposite of "I", what God Himself did for us. Shouldn't we respond to love like that with similar love in return?
Man, we got to learn love each other. We have to learn how to sacrifice ourselves, feelings, desires, time, and energy for the good of our brothers&sisters. This is love. Even in romantic relationships, the romance won't linger for long, but sacrifice will.
Deciding: "I am going to love this person". Even when you're not happy about it. Even when it's not for your best interest. Isn't that love?
If it is, I'm a rather unloving person. God help me. Maybe I'm just a negative person, but I would go so far as to say we are all strangers of love.
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