It’s a hopeful statement, yes, but it very much ends with a powerful period. This morning, I am forgetting not His benefits and I am satisfied.
Psalm 103:2
Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits
When there are ripples of discontent or rumblings of doubt, God reminds me that He responds to my questions with an answer always as full and lush as Spring.
He satisfies.
He satisfies. He satisfies.
So, today I’m hoping that I will…
“Let my sighs give way to songs that sing about your faithfulness
Let my pain reveal your glory as my only real rest
Let my losses show me all I truly have is you”
Today blusters. The wind rushes the trees and picks up crunchy leaves from ground that should be covered in snow. Wednesday is my morning for study and I’m glad I’m sitting by a window. When the books press my brain and my journal scrawls make no sense, I just look out the window and breathe in the gray of this day.
I have rough days every once in awhile – days where it’s hard to smile and a labor to laugh. Last week, I had one of those days. A friend sent a text to see if I wanted to hang out and my response was, “Rough day. Sad. Need more Jesus.” She was sweet, even if I wasn’t making perfect sense.
Today is looking way less rough and way more beautiful, but I still need more Jesus. It’s so funny how I work hard to cheat myself out of joy. I fill up my day and scrunch all sorts of non-sense into spare minutes so that there is nothing left. I read and think and write and dance and laugh and sing and sound my barbaric yawp in the quiet community parks. …And I work hard to make more space for me and little space for Jesus.
By 9 am, I’ve sealed my fate: life abundant is aiming a little too high. There is just too much caroline going on to be distracted by Jesus.
Oh, man.
Jesus had something else in mind for my days. Something magnificent and unexplainable and bigger than minutes and bigger than the wind outside this window.
Jesus said he came to bring life and life abundant (John 10:10). The only way abundance is going to fit in my day is if I become less. The silly madness of it all is that my searching, loving, and longing for Jesus will mean the best and most JOY – not less. Though I pack my days (good and bad) with other things, only more Jesus can make my life overflow with a joy that seeps into the corners of my sadness and twirls in the spontaneity of surprises. Only more Jesus will make sense of my brokenness and the world’s failures. Only more Jesus will lift my spirit above catty gossip and exchange it for words of blessing. Only more Jesus.
I’m praying this will be a Romans 15:13 kind of day.
Romans 15:13 says, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy.”
A day FILLED with ALL joy and peace, trusting in the Lord, OVERFLOWING with hope by the power of the Holy.
God LOVES so completely, so PERFECTLY, so winsomely. The wind blows and shakes the trees and I think…
How could I not want more in response?
Last night, around the dinner table, we got into a pretty heated discussion (which is unfortunately my modus operandi). The topic is not as important to me as my conversation this morning with my cousin. I guess you could say it was one of those personal revelations – where the layers peeled back and the “real me” was exposed.
I’ve mentioned before my grappling with the meaning of a “gentle and quiet” spirit that Peter talks about in 1 Peter 3:3-4,
Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.
I wrestle these words.
I want to justify my crazy personality, want to know that “who I am” is okay – even if I’m not the quiet girl praying in the corner. I do believe God sanctifies our personalities, but I’m just not sure how to balance my uniqueness with the ways God desires to transform me to His image.
Enter my cousin Vince.
This morning, I asked him about last night’s discussion. I knew the argument ruffled his feathers and I wanted to know what I could do better. I also, selfishly, wanted to know how to achieve that “quiet and gentle spirit” and still be, well, me.
In the course of our conversation, I realized a major character flaw that needs to be seriously refined by fire.
In a conversation/argument/debate, I often appear confident and decided in my view even if I’m not convinced of it myself.
Even writing it looks lame, but it’s true. I’m not sure who to blame – my brothers for their ruthless monopoly bullying or my sister for all those squabbles over borrowing clothes. In the end, I know it’s my own heart that is so stubborn. It’s my own pride that prevents me from saying, “I’m not really sure. What do you think?” It’s my selfishness that refuses to ask questions and instead offers, “Well, I think…” statements.
I love to process through ideas, philosophies, and theological dilemmas. I welcome questions because every assumption/belief must be challenged to reveal its roots. But, I’ve often made my mind up to be defensive before I am convinced of my own position. I don’t ask questions or consider another as better than myself (Philippians 2:3) on the debate floor. My main focus is to be heard and understood, not to hear and understand.
Oh, dear. This confession is getting ugly.
Over omelettes and coffee this morning, my heart looked sour and silly. Vince saw through my selfishness to ways it has blinded my own heart. He saw my veneer of pride and called me out.
This is a rebuke past due that makes me wonder how many relationships and conversations would have ended differently.
My own pride keeps me from conforming to my Creator, but I would probably argue to the death that it’s not so.
Oh, that I would throw off all that entangles so that I can truly
I wrote this entire post yesterday and then cyberspace stole it. It took me awhile to cool off and find time to try it again (because I had a 15 minute window between work and work), but if Vince is right – this should be better anyway.
This morning I woke up remembering. My mind was heavy with it and I didn’t want to shake free. A deep sadness chased after rose-petaled joy in the wide expanse of slight slumber and I soaked it all in with my head smooshed to the pillow. Remembering.
I know the words to a beautiful tale of trial and tragedy and triumph. I know the beginning and ending of the greatest story that ever was. I carry around the chapters in thought bubbles above my head and feel them in the work of my hands. It’s a living kind of story that is both finished and in process. It’s the kind of story that everyone wants to believe is true, but only some have eyes to see.
It’s a story where we are the characters and we live the plot.
This story is the Gospel.
God’s plan for humankind to live as we were designed – for worship.
The Gospel is the greatest story that ever was, penned by the Creator with great care – from the moment the first light broke into the furthest reaches of black void.
In the beginning, God. Forever before and forever after this little blip called human existence, God lives – Perfect, Holy, and Blameless. Our failure to reflect Him (in His perfection) required a hero – a Perfect Savior who would stand in our place to take on everything imperfect, unholy, and blame-filled. Christ is that Savior.
And today my heart is heavy with the weight of this story – to receive it with joy and to tell it with abandon; to preach it with my feet and to sing it with laughter. This is the story of deliverance from death to life, from lost to found.
This is the story that changes everything. And so deep sadness plays with great joy in my soul as I turn over this blessing in my sleepy mind. This is the story that changes everything.
What have I imagined to be more important than this story? What have I elevated to get more fame than this true tale? What has taken my gaze from the One who redeemed me from the pit and restored my soul?
This is the equation that lands me smack dab in the middle of crazy (don’t forget that I’m notoriously unstable in good sidewalk conditions). I had been office-d all day, plugging away in Excel (wishing my brother would have given me the tutorial he promised over Christmas break) and pushing some papers… so I was ready to run.
The snow made my whole body nervous this morning (when I realized I have no idea how to drive in it), so running was going to be my way of snatching back my winter joy. The first five minutes involved a simple, out loud conversation with myself, “This is stupid. You are stupid.” But, I kept going… down the icy stairs, through the icy park, past a cautious walker, and looping around to follow the path toward the university.
I kept thinking, “Why am I doing this?” and then answering, “because this is how to live winter” … and then catching myself from a near fall. I really had very little mental space to process while I ran because I needed to focus singularly on staying upright.
I let a giggle jump out and chase the sky.
Let the winter come! And, oh, let me run in it!
I loved every bit of my run – no matter how official it made my craziness (I’m not sure that was even in question to begin with).
I loved the way the man stared at me when I said, “Should have brought my ice skates” and the way I ran by the university campanile at exactly 5:30, approaching an ice patch (and the way I jolted when the bells chimed) and the way people stared at me like I was some luny freshman, trying to resolve off 15 pounds and the way the Cadillac slid to a halt to let me pass in front of it and the way I only slipped once and another time saved a fall with bowling-like form and the way the footsteps in the snow revealed other crazy people and the way the wind whipped at my back on Lincoln Way, encouraging me on in my ridiculous endeavor and the way the wind slapped my face on University, reminding me of my ridiculous endeavor and the way that my stride grew every time I hit iceless pavement and the way that winter is a muscle doctor – it’s like running inside an ice pack and the way my lungs burned and my sweat froze
Whatever happened to all that penmanship our elementary teachers hounded us about with dotted lines? All those rewrites and all that time spent with my tongue hanging out to get the curve just right. Whatever happened to handwriting?
A few days ago, I got a letter in the mail. Well, not technically in the mailbox, but in my email inbox. I glanced at the message from a dear Honduran friend, but didn’t stop to click on the attachment. I knew it needed more time, so I postponed until today.
I found this letter after clicking on the “document.pdf” file and I’ve probably read it a zillion times since.
There’s something about pen to paper that can’t be imitated in typed script. No number of fonts can capture the haphazard curve of the “s” or the way the “i” doesn’t have a dot hovering over it’s rigid line.
There’s something very special about handwriting and about the kindred spirits who use it to communicate a stronger emotion than can get lost on the keyboard.
Waking up was hard to do this morning, but smiling at this golden beginning to a new year was pretty easy. Yesterday was an exhibition in overflow. Yesterday splashed like crazy with “my cup runnin’ over.” God keeps pouring more of Himself (Romans 5) out through His Spirit and I can’t help but burst with joy.The more the Spirit pours out into my life, the more overflows everywhere else.
.gelato and coffee and conversations with cousins, with the right overdose of laughter
.folding up into a perfect sized hide-and-seek closet, awaiting the spirited search and discovery .the other side of sunset – the expanse of sky gathering up all the reflections and hiding them in clouds
.hay bales piled on top of hay bales and warming in the unseasonable sun
.car rides riddled with conversation with my sister, where our friendship is given deeper, livelier roots .a NYE celebration with new friends who live spur-of-the-moment and believe that laughter can be holy
.neighbors with open doors and friendly greetings and stories to share
.sweet sleep in a warm cocoon and a dawn that brings a fresh start
overflow
The burnt, lifeless leaves sweep up into a circling wind outside the kitchen window and shake away some of the Sunday afternoon reverie. The chorus from this morning’s service seems stuck in my soul,
Christ is risen from the grave
trampling over death by death
Come awake, come awake
Come and rise up from the grave
The bold dawn has cast out the shadows of this day, this year, this sickness, this fear, this life. We are living the already, not yet life where dawn claims victory over the darkness of night in prelude to the Forever song. Today is a post-Easter, pre-Eternity day where we can rise up from the grave of death because in Christ it has no sting!
Today, I’m praying my heart would come awake to God’s heart. I’m praying my mind would come awake to the Word. I’m praying my actions would come awake in obedience and my life would come awake in Truth.
I’m praying I will live 2012 awake, eyes wide open in search of blessings to name and receive and count and respond with a life of gratitude.
May you all be blessed in 2012 with awakened hearts and minds, that you would pursue the Lord with everything in you, knowing that He will be found by you.
So, I woke up groggy today – the kind of groggy that takes a few groans and stretches to successfully escape morning’s clinging clutches.
Walking around in this new slightly-less-nomadic skin has it’s beautiful charms and strange discomforts. My clothes are folded frumpy in a sweet smelling wooden dresser, my suitcases sit empty in the closet, and my car eddie is almost a local on these streets.
Settling in feels like crawling out of an old skin – one that knew many houses and couches and faces in this in-between phase of transition. I might have become a little addicted to “never a dull moment” and “expect the unexpected,” even if it meant never having a routine. Continue reading →
Now is the season of our content, made glorious by this Son of Man.
If you’re not up on 14th century Shakespearean references, let me put it this way: I’m overwhelmed by this season called content, made glorious by God who made Himself humble so we could be made whole.
Not “content” like the subject of an essay or the the topic of a seminar, but “content” like a peaceful state.
Facing winter is not necessarily a peaceful idea, after living in Honduras for three years. I have resigned to the fact that, for the amount of layers I must wear, winter will simply not be an attractive season. My bones feel brittle and only thaw out under multiple thick blankets about the time I have to climb out from under them in the morning. I will always, always drink a scorching hot cup of coffee at the expense of a burnt mouth if it means circulating a little warmth.
No, the cold winter months do not naturally bring contentment.
Thankfully, this season of content began with a joy safely hidden away in a deep place that made things like driving a tractor an adventure and a blessing.
Today is the second day at my job – the answer to many, many prayers and the conclusion to a humbling, cross-country, beautiful, and tiresome search.
The funny/wonderful thing is that I don’t have that “I didn’t realize I was holding my breath this whole time” sensation where if I hadn’t gasped for air I might not have made it. I’m pumped to work in ministry and live with open eyes for the ways God has called me to live intentionally, but not because I’ve been waiting with bated breath for an assignment.
The Lord provided, in His grace, so many reassurances of His sovereignty along the way (jobs, community, fellowship, friends, laughter) that I couldn’t question His method (or timing).
My own broken record of advice to students (stolen from several places) was always, “Enjoy life. Pursue the Lord and you will pursue the greatest Treasure. Love God so much that you are ruined for anything else. The greatest joy you will ever find is hidden in the mystery of grace – the Son of Man.”
It is this advice that played over and over in my head in those solitary days farming the corn fields in a tractor and the hours spent staring at job listings on a computer screen.
It is this Truth that the Lord is gracious and sovereign that buoyed the deep joy of my soul above the rough waters of transition.
It is with Paul I strive to say that contentment is always possible – in every season and circumstance because there is not a day when He is not victorious.
I thought it would be fun to write a post about unemployed life, because unemployment has been getting a lot of press lately (see Occupy Wall Street and my take on it). Feel free to pass this along to unemployed friends you might know or employed friends who might be interested in how the 9% unemployed could be living right now.
I call this list: Occupy Life
Go a-visiting.
Make frequent trips to visit neighbors, friends, and your siblings where they provide breakfast, lunch, and dinner and delightful conversation. I’ve found that people are not opposed to this one bit. They enjoy the interruption in routine and a reason to break out the cookies (or special recipe) they’ve been saving for an occasion of any sort. If you have got a knack for baking, maybe you could whip up something before you set out, that’s sure to make someone’s day!
Get your give on.
It’s a great time to go through everything that has piled up with the promise of “getting to it someday” and then give it away! If you haven’t used it in the past 6 months, do you REALLY need it? Could someone else need it more than you? I will admit my packrat tendencies and, even though I love giving things away, sometimes it’s hard for me to part with things (see below).
Go through collections of junior high love letters.
I read one that said, “Hi, I like you and you probably know that by now. The problem is, I like 2 other girls and I have a girlfriend. But my girlfriend is going to break up with me (for good reasons) and you know I’ve liked _____ all my life! And the other girl won’t talk to me but when we do hang out we just hold hands.” and then the next note from the same boy said, “I don’t know why you showed ________ the note. She was mad. Well, I guess me and _______ are mad at each other and we were supposed to fight. But, I guess we’re friends again.” Oh, junior high!
Read. read. read.
There is so much going on in the world and it is overwhelming even if you’re reading the news non-stop. I like to mix things up a bit – news, commentary, theology, philosophy, comedy, fiction, autobiography and biography. Right now, I’m reading an 18th century theologian, the “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” and using my internet sleuthing abilities to stalk all kinds of blogs. The most important book you could ever pick up: the Bible. That’s where the wisdom is at, without fail my friends!
Start making Christmas gifts!
I’ve been in my grandpa’s woodshop – sawing, sanding, drawing and designing and I LOVE what it does for my heart! Spending TIME with people I love making GIFTS for people I love – priceless (and literally doesn’t cost anything because I just scour my parents’ farm for supplies! My brother just happened to get married recently and we used barnboards for decorations…. everyone on my list just might be getting a re-purposed barnboard for Christmas). I smell like sawdust after a couple hours and it makes me feel like I’m working hard to accomplish actions of love. Smells good.
Do what you love doing...
all day long. If it was me, I would write and/or hang out with kids and/or read. Guess what – being unemployed is technically a dream come true! I already have a computer, internet is free almost everywhere, I have a library of books I haven’t read yet, and there are oodles of ways to make sure I’ve got kiddos in my life!
Deliver pizzas or drive a tractor.
If “unemployed” means you “can’t find employment suitable to your expectations,” then you most definitely need to make yourself useful in the meantime. Can you drive? Deliver pizzas (as Dave Ramsey would say). Or do what I did – drive a tractor. That’s right. And if you live in a city, I’m sure there are some small businesses that might need extra hands around the holidays! There is absolutely no reason to ask the government to pay you a salary to sit on your couch. Sorry, there are just too many jobs posted for that to make sense. Get humble. It might hurt, but it’s good for you (and me).
Figure out the science of milk foam.
The key is the milk has to go both up-and-down AND side-to-side. Those fancy machines are so expensive and boring and loud, but the alternative happens to be simple and interesting and very quiet. Just take a beater (one you would use in a hand mixer), heat a small juice glass of milk, and then roll the beater between your hands! Woila! Latté!
People watch.
Currently, there are some ladies playing a competitive rummy game to my left and a book club to my right (which also appears to be a strategic team to save a local library). I just love imagining what people are thinking or what they are headed home to after coffee. One lady who just left made all her personal/business calls sitting one table away from me. I feel like we’re pretty close now. She has two kids and her oldest just recently joined a sports team, which she is really excited about. She is juggling night college classes with her work schedule and Black Friday might be a hard day.
Cherish the slow moments.
If there is one thing people like to tell you when you are unemployed, it’s some version of, “Enjoy this time, because you’ll wish you had when you are working full-time.” I get it and I am trying. Complaining doesn’t make me any more qualified, so I’m trying to keep that in mind. The sun shines just as bright on the employed as it does the unemployed (and we have a lot more time to think about it).
Be oh-so-grateful for community.
This is a serious one. I am part of that 9 percent, but I’m not part of the unemployment movement (can I say that?). I am not waiting and hoping and praying the government will feel responsible for my situation. I am depending on the Body of Christ and they haven’t yet let me down. My friends and family have been so gracious to welcome me into their homes and their lives, showing me love I didn’t ask for or deserve.
I just got back from Honduras in June and I still haven’t allowed myself to fully process what it means to live here now, but I know that there are people around me ready to support me in the process. My church family has been so encouraging, giving me job leads and networking contacts as well as odd jobs here and there. My parents have been amazing. Never, ever in my life did I think I would say, “Well, I’m 27 and living with my parents.” The sound of it makes me grimace a little. But, can I say this is a uniquely United States discomfort? In other countries this is normal and doing anything else would be foolish.
Apply.
Did you think I would forget? Ha! I’ve applied for somewhere between 75-100 jobs from California to New York. I spend a little bit of each day either searching or applying or emailing. I talk to people who talk to people who know people who might have something and then I track them down. I’ve applied for jobs in advertising, agriculture, publishing, social work, higher education, and as an administrative assistant. I have had interviews and almost-interviews and people who tell me, “You are exactly what we are looking for, but we don’t think this job would fulfill you.” Really? Let’s wait for paycheck one and let me decide. But, with every rejection (there’ve been many) and every cold call and every dead end, I know that God is not confused or frustrated. He is sovereign and He is good – all the time. I trust in His perfect plan and my place in it.
If you want to make even this interesting, then you’ll apply for some jobs with a bit of whimsy. I once sent this Cover Letter to an advertising agency with an … interesting angle.
Okay, folks. What additions do you have? I know there are oh-so-many things unemployed peeps can be doing with their time that might be more productive than camping out to make a statement that someone should give them more money.
Whatever happened to all that penmanship our elementary teachers hounded us about with dotted lines? All those rewrites and all that time spent with my tongue hanging out to get the curve just right. Whatever happened to handwriting?
MUSINGS IN THE MIDST 