In Hope of Peace

Oh this weary, weary heart of mine

By world’s strong pull employed

Begins to lose its faith in Thee

And open rend a void

Oh this weary, weary mind of mine

Its will so weak and slow

That heaven’s lights seem far away

And oh my soul so low

Lord my God you have not yet

Failed to woo this heart of mine

Call me, cleanse me, love me still

Hold fast and make me Thine

Thy love, Thy love it is so wide

and jealous for my praise

I long to change and be your child

To be your hands always

Thy grace, Thy grace it has the power

To mend my broken frame

That I may go and share Thy love

And bless Thy holy name

New Love.

Sometimes following Christ can really kick me in the butt.

Like when I don’t practice what I preach. Like when I complain and gossip and do things I shouldn’t (or don’t do things I should). Like being complimented for work I didn’t realize I was doing because my heart wasn’t in the right place.

The gospel has a beautiful way of ruining my life in the best way possible, even amidst my groaning and griping and general grouchiness. I have never felt so stripped of any general responsibility for a successful mission trip (the pretentious Christian in me fights including the very word “mission”, because it can carry connotations so estranged from the story of Christ that it repulses me. Is “pretentious Christian” an oxymoron?).

 I remember when I was younger I was always told that God uses those least capable but most available. I don’t think I have ever quite understood that until this past week, and I don’t think I have ever felt so palpably the hand of God at work in my own life. When I sowed, I sowed resentfully. When I plowed, I plowed with a diminished sense of purpose. But God saw, in His goodness, a way to grow my feeble, failing seed. Around my aggravation and discontent, His instructions regarding the work of the Church caused hope to blossom in the lives of the people I worked with in Alabama this past week.

How else can I explain what I have learned than as the handiwork of God? When a black boy asks a white girl in my youth group what color she is while they play together, what else can my response be but gratitude for the Love we have all been shown?

 It is not the sentimental, capitalistic, American, machine-gun toting Jesus who captivates me. It is the homeless Jesus, the stateless Jesus, the barrier-destroying, prostitute-and-tax-collector hugging, peace-loving Jesus.

It is only by reading and learning and living and imitating the gospel that the power and presence of God is made manifest in our personal lives. That God is a lover of relationships is evidence of His enchantment with human interaction as a means to communicate His presence. How wonderful a God we could discover if only we would learn to live uncomfortably in a casual, complacent world, and enter into the sufferings and joys of others.

I find myself fighting daily battles with my own selfishness and rejection of this idea. Paying lip service to this idea and really knowing what it is to live sacrificially are two completely different things. I love what Stanley Hauerwas says about his faith, though – that it is by writing that he learns to believe, and that only by articulating his thoughts is he capable of cultivating an understanding of the divine. I’d like to think the same thing of myself, or rather know that it’s okay for this to also be true of myself. Faith does not come naturally for me as it does for some, and the divorce of doctrine from direction only intensifies my confusion.

I feel like I should apologize for spouting so many personal things online, especially when I consider that many people who read this may be uncomfortable with organized faith or religious persuasions in general. But I have to trust that, given that this is a sort of on-line journal, it’s okay for me to make some of my private thoughts public. If I have offended anyone I am deeply apologetic – not for what I believe, but rather for whatever I have said that has made my faith out to be something that it is not.

I have to get some sleep – I begin working for Cliff tomorrow morning. Much love and peace, and a restful night’s sleep to all.

T-4 Days

Today my family went to Damascus, VA to ride on the Creeper Trail for Dad's birthday. Yes, I know this makes us all sound like pedophiles. It's a 14 mile ride downhill (which is fantastic) through parts of the National Forest and it was absolutely beautiful.

Until we got caught in a flash flood.

This would be more amusing had the forecast been for clear skies. No, dear reader. The Weather Channel very clearly alerted us that an afternoon thunderstorm was certain to strike the area. Because my family never has normal outings (last year we went canoeing and all of us flipped out on placid water) we decided to go anyway.

What the Weather Channel didn't say was that we were going to be in an absolute deluge, complete with spattering hail.

It began raining around mile seven after we had eaten lunch at the halfway point, and mom commented that the clouds behind us made the sky look "just like tornada alley!!". The drizzle wasn't bad at first, but the monsoon that followed was blinding. The trail flooded - there were several places where we biked through water about a half a foot deep - and it was raining so hard dad and I had to keep stopping to adjust our contact lenses so they wouldn't fall out of our eyes. The situation became even more comical when mom made me get off the bike and get under a tree because "bikes are made of metal" and I could be struck by lightening! By this point all we could do was laugh - mom had mud running down her face and neck and her legs were completely black. By the time we got back to the car all of us were completely covered with it. I mean completely. I had to shampoo my hair twice when we got home and put on my glasses so I could get the dirt out of my eyes.

Needless to say it was a good adventure. Spending time with the family is never boring for sure - and on the ride home I couldn't help but think about how cool it is that we can do something like that together and laugh about it afterwards. My family is fun, especially when we also get to stop for coffee :)

I can't believe DYA is almost here! We're having another family adventure tomorrow while dad is on vacation (maybe canoeing again? oh dear...) and I have a nine-hour shift at work Wednesday. Thursday I will pack and prepare to leave early Friday morning for the most wonderful place in the world!!

I am so excited about making dinosaur door tags for my residents. They are going to be AWESOME.

Risk = Hazard + Outrage

First of all, I’m sorry my blog has been spastically morphing for the past month or so. I’m finally figuring out how to play with the settings and I know it’s obnoxious. I’ll stop soon – promise. It’s been ugly for so long and now that I have discovered hotbliggityblog.com I can’t keep my cursor from clicking all of the layout schemes. It’s a disorder; don’t judge me.  

If you haven’t noticed, awesome. Forget that I ever admitted how obsessive I have been about my blog skin and assume that it has always existed in its present form.

Second of all, I finally have work for the entire summer! I’m so relieved. I’ll begin training at Old Navy this Saturday and I’ll be working there in between commitments to Duke Youth Academy and Timothy Project. Only two and a half weeks until DYA is here!! I’m so excited it’s insane.  

Speaking of insane, I need a tranquilizer, preferably with an extra strong shot of consistency and/or routine. I’m down with all the new experiences I’m having but my brain needs to play recovery. Bouncing back and forth from home and school (I was in Boone this weekend with Caroline and Elizabeth) is keeping me incredibly confused about this whole child/adult thing. It’s so weird because essentially I am responsible for doing everything for myself, but all of my financial ties are still with my parents. I do my own laundry, but they give me the quarters, if that can be applied in a broader sense.

I’m certainly not complaining about having to be a dependant. I’m really blessed to have parents that are willing to help me out whenever they can even though I am technically an adult. And it’s also great that I get to have a transition period where I can have freedom to do things on my own but still have mom and dad as a safety net. All the same I am still in a bit of a funk.

When I was thinking about blogging earlier today I had lots of interesting things to say, and now it seems as though they have escaped me. I’m reading Freakonomics and a book about immigration reform and by brain is boiling over with ideas that I can’t fanaggle into sentences yet. I’m in the process of training my brain to think instead of obsess so anything I try to say will be nothing more than incoherent babbling at this point.

Surprise, surprise. This is nothing new. 

My brain is a pinball machine.

I need to find a job because I am thinking too much.

Confessions of a Pack-Rat

I cleaned out all of my drawers today. And my closet, and my desk, and my bookshelf.  I laughed a lot and teared up a bit looking back at everything that has happened since I hit adolescence. In between the cracks of pictures and prom shoes and CDs and presents I caught glimpses of a person I have been waiting to become. It's exhilarating and frightening at the same time.

Things that used to be bitter have become so sweet, and it's hard to hold the life that squeezes out and taste all the goodness of living. It's true; memories turn better as they age.

This weekend I went to my cousin's college graduation and I watched my grandma tearing up while Sara walked across the stage.  One of the reasons I love my grandma so much is because she is like an extra catch for all of the wonderful things I am so guilty of letting slip through my fingers. I know I have a lot less experience and and long way to go, but I think this afternoon I felt some of the things maybe she was feeling yesterday afternoon - happiness over things that I never dreamed I'd miss and sadness over the things I know that I always will.

It kind of reminds me of a conversation I had with Caroline earlier this year after she came back from watching a really heart-breaking documentary about brothels in India. While she was walking to her room feeling incredibly depressed, she ran into some university singers harmonizing in the ASU tunnel. Abrupt transitions between pain and beauty are always pretty surreal, and she said the experience was crazy. I don't know why things happen this way, exactly. Maybe because pain is something we are subjected to and beauty is something we choose to make in spite of pain...whatever the reason, the juxtaposition of the two can be mind-boggling. Like when you're on your way home after a mind-numbingly stressful day and you pass a car with little kids in the backseat and they smile and wave like little kids do, and suddenly it becomes harder to remember why you were even upset to begin with. There are many hard things in life, but there are softer things too. And they can make life so good, if you let them.

After my purging frenzy today my bedroom at home looks like an adult's, for the most part. But I still have remnants of my childhood laying around (Shel Silverstein and Ken Follett are hanging out on the same row of my bookshelf) and it's a funny feeling being caught between a woman and a girl.

Living is full of gray areas, but I am learning to embrace them.

I know I have rambled rather a lot this evening. I hope you all will forgive me; I have a lot on my mind. I also have an interview tomorrow for a job so I need to get in bed. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

I love all of you :)

A trip back to senior year :) I love this guy.

3:15 AM

Fall into me like

Rain into a cistern

Shine white

Through the prism

Fashioned by your grace

In the quiet I listen

And wait for your mercy

Overwhelm me like

Green whispers

On the first days of spring

I know I’m not who I should be

I’m foolish like a child

And stubborn with

The rage of a tyrant

Fall into me like

Love covers lies

I won’t waste time