refresh

"The Lord is my shepherd;

I shall not want.

He makes me to lie down in green pastures;

He leads me beside the still waters.

He restores my soul;

He leads me in the paths of righteousness

For His name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil;

For You are with me;

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;

You anoint my head with oil;

My cup runs over.

Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me

All the days of my life;

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord

Forever."

~ Psalm 23 ~

This poem never ceases to help me stop and rest.

Photo courtesy of Mountain Musing

Manifesto

I've never been a supporter of New Year's Resolutions. For no good reason, really; I'm just too much of a competitor against myself, that having a physical list of goals and desires for a year, that slip of paper seems to taunt me, setting me up for failure by default. 

Funny how a while back ago, I got this idea from The Art of Manliness. (Which may weird some people out considering I'm not a man. But that's okay; Weird and I are life-long chums.) I took it to heart, and my manifesto is something I do my best to live by. I fail, but I try. And honestly, life is not even about success. Life is about the trying. I will hold myself to a standard of grace, not perfection. I'm thinking of printing it out and tacking it above my dresser so I can see it every day because it's easy to forget. Anyways, this is who I desire to be and develop into as this new year unfolds.

Personal Manifesto:

I will put other above myself, knowing that greatness is found in service.

I will not refuse myself to be broken, whether it be under the conviction of my sin, or by the heaviness of pain and suffering found in the world. I will no longer keep my eyes closed.

I will not view myself as entitled to any good thing, but remember that each day is more than I deserve.

I will not speak ill of anyone out of senseless annoyance.

I will be kind rather than clever.

I will intentionally see the beauty all around me and I will praise its Creator.

I will use the talents God has given me to bless others and bring Him glory; I will not allow them to gather dust due to fear or apathy.

I will not make decisions designed to put myself in the spotlight.

I will surround myself with depth and wisdom in thought, through literature, museums, drama, music, films, and friends. I will not be trivialized by this culture.

I will not be deceived by the ideals of the world. I will not look for happiness in money, fame, men, opportunities to do what I love, or any of the desires of my heart of flesh. I will seek and do the will of God and remember that real happiness can only be found in the center thereof.

I will do all through the strength of Christ, knowing that I am too weak to win my battles alone, but that He has already won the war.

Photo courtesy: Of All Loveliness

2013 - With Me

These past several months I have been feeling weight. Struggle. Inadequacy. Fear. While nothing can deter my soul from it's calling, it is this same calling that produces a mental-emotional collision inside of me everyday. Put simply, I am constantly intimidated by what the Lord has placed in my heart. I've heard it said that when your destiny scares you, you're on the right track. For me, it only highlights my weaknesses, frailties, all the reasons why I can't and probably shouldn't be getting the muck of human suffering underneath my fingernails.

Coincidentally, I recently finished going through the books of Joshua and Judges for my personal devotions, two books that are filled to the brim of epic tales of the Israelites victoriously marching in the Promised Land, and of individuals who moved mightily to shake a nation's core into returning to God.

It's often easy to look at these people and be in awe of the strength they possessed, sizing them up for superhuman candidacy. In actuality, though, there's no such thing as "superhuman." So how did they accomplish such incredible acts? Take Jael, from Judges 4, for example. She killed an army's commander-in-chief by driving a tent peg through his skull. We already established that it was impossible for her to be superhuman; judging from the biblical account, I think it's safe to say that neither did she have rage issues or mental instability. She was just an ordinary wife, yet no "ordinary" woman is naturally inclined to do something so, pardon me, gross.

Herein lies the answer. Ever notice as you read through Joshua and Judges that phrases such as "The Lord was with them," "the Lord was on their side," or "the Spirit of the Lord came upon him" occur pretty frequently? That is the answer. How did Israel slay an entire nation of 2,000 people in one day? Because the Lord was with them. How did Samson slay a thousand men with just a donkey's jawbone? Because God's Spirit was upon him. 

Many Christians will subconsciously acknowledge the Lord's presence. "God is with you," we say when we hear a friend is going through a rough time. It's used as a Christian feel-good term. And yes, the Lord's presence is comforting, it is peaceful. But it is powerful. You literally have the presence of the One who spoke the cosmos into existence with you constantly, 24/7. Yet so often, we are content to let it lay on the shelf, not exposing ourselves to it, not giving ourselves to it, not dedicating our lives to the pursuit of it.

With this Presence, Moses lifted his rod and the children of Israel crossed through the Red Sea. With this Comfort, Peter saw the disciple Tabitha raised to life. With this Peace, Jesus walked on water and calmed a storm. And with this Power, we have the promise of working greater wonders than Jesus Himself accomplished during His time on earth.

It's not the question of His presence that I doubt. It's His power. Will He come through in my moment of need? I'm like Gideon, continually laying out the fleece, asking for a sign that He is indeed with me. 

"But Lord, I'm the youngest in my family."

I am with you.

"But You know my speech is not good, and I am not even close to public eloquence."

I am with you.

"And if they kill me?" (My mind refuses to think small when I'm terrified.)

I am with you.

And this is my anthem as I walk into this new year. Not knowing what it will hold, the challenges, the opportunities, new experiences.

He is with me. He is with me. He is with me.

"Have I not commanded you? 

Be strong and of good courage; 

do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, 

for the Lord your God is with you 

wherever you go."

~ Joshua 1:9 ~

Photo: Of All Loveliness

Just Popping In . . .

So, this is new, not blogging for three whole weeks. It's the college (and work) life. Totally rocks.

And just when I started to get some blog drafts started, a big thing happens. On Sunday night my dad had a heart attack. Thank Jesus, we did catch it right away, and Mom took him to the ER soon afterwards. As of now (Tuesday evening), he got out of surgery a few hours ago; he had a few stints put in, which will help keep the blockage in his coronary arteries at bay. Unfortunately, it doesn't take care of the root problem (the blockage needs to be completely removed), but it does provide a short-term (2-3 year) break before the need for a more invasive procedure would need to happen.

This whole process has been covered with the peace of God; nobody has been freaking out, no complications with doctor's procedures, everything pretty smooth. My brother flew in from Canada to help out, which has been a great blessing. I have pretty much been holding down the fort while everyone goes to the hospital to see Dad. I hate hospitals and, unless something major is happening, I make every effort not to purposely put myself in a situation I hate. But being home has let me do a few things; yesterday I cleaned the house, top to bottom, and today I "winterized" the garden.

Nevertheless, prayers would be appreciated, obviously. Just for peace as we start to figure out what these next few weeks will look like. That Dad would recover quickly and smoothly. That he wouldn't rush his recovery. (He's an A-type personality, so he basically has a one-track mind. Right now, it's "get better and get back to work.") I can't really think of anything more specific other than that, but I mean, nobody ever got too much prayer or prayed too much.

This experience has also tangibly brought the realization to me that, we really don't know when our time will come. Sure, we can make tentative plans for what we might want to do when we grow up, what to study in college, what boy we want to marry, how many kids we want, and whatever other major life decisions happen to present themselves. But that's the thing - these are just tentative.

Ultimately, my life is in His hands. I'm down-right assured of that. I do actively try to position my life according to where I feel God is leading me. For this reason, I am in college, attempting to acquire the knowledge needed to get a job in the field of humanitarian-government relations. At the same time, I can't bank my life on the mere fact that I'm still living. I can only live day-to-day, step-by-step.

I know I'm basically rambling now, and I promise I'll stop after I say this. But, really, loving people is all that it's cracked up to be. That's what people ultimately remember you for. I'm not a sentimental person in any way, shape, or form. But having death come so close to my family, I don't really care anymore. I want to love with abandon. I don't want to hoard my life to myself anymore. Whether it's my giving my mom a gift for no reason, forgiving a friend for something that is really quite petty in the end, or just going to my sister's birthday party even though I'd rather go to jail than pretend I love parties because I have a serious hate-hate relationship with parties. I want to feast and abide in God's love daily so that I can be a conduit of love to others to the fullest.

I want to love hard.

18 Lessons

This past Thursday, August 23, was my birthday. I'm 18 now. And if 18 is anything like 17 . . . I will be blessed beyond what I deserve. In the hardest, but best of ways.

The awesome part about having a birthday in the middle of the year is it's almost like New Year's Day all over again. Just for you. New year, new start, new clean slate. I'm beginning a new season of life. I'm now an adult. I haven't wrapped my head around that yet. It's a thrilling but daunting mental trip. The kind of thought that makes being five sound like a good idea. Back then naivety was the norm and skepticism was a foreign language, and I just think every once in a while you need fries and a chocolate milkshake and your mom.

The thing that gives life its point is that there is always something new to learn. Over the past year or so, I've come to the conclusion that the moment you think you have everything figured out, you don't. You never arrive. It's the elusive finish line that we'll never cross this side of Heaven. It's always more and more, deeper and deeper, experience overlapping experience, wave over crashing wave, lessons learned. And then more lessons to learn. Year 17-18 has been chock-full of this. At times I've wanted to point a finger at the Teacher and say, "Stop it! I have enough homework as it is! I never enrolled for a B.A. in Christianity. I'm not that spiritual. Really, God, I'm not." Nevertheless, you learn whether you want to or not. I'm glad God doesn't take orders from us.

1. Being content doesn't mean throwing your hands up in complacency. It's eager expectation married to patience and self-control.

2. Sometimes it's easier to write a research paper outline on pretty stationary.

3. Good friends are rare. Treasure them, but don't smother them.

4. Nothing wrong with being confident. Just don't get cocky about it.

5. Once you learn the true Biblical form of forgiveness, you will immediately fall head-over-heels in love with it.

6. Sometimes you just have to tell the negativity committee that meets inside your head to sit down and shut up.

7. Knowing exactly what you want before you go shopping is a huge time and stress saver.

8. Listen to good music. Good, artistically rich, soul-filled ear pleasure. Sometimes the best beats are the neighborhood garage band, not the ones releasing their latest VEVO music video.

9. Trust is priceless. Damaging it costs too much.

10. Facades aren't worth it.

11. Smile.

12. Common sense isn't really all that common anymore.

13. Sometimes mothers really do know best.

14. Always feed your brain. Never stop exploring. Learn new information. Don't paralyze your curiosity.

15. Really, it's lame to do things just because everybody else is doing it.

16. No one ever accomplished anything worth doing without dipping their toes in the pond of Uncomfortable.

17. In quietness and trust is your strength. (Isaiah 30:15)

18. Love is such a worthy cause.

Photo courtesy: (1) That Kind of Woman; (2) Of All Loveliness; (3) Pinterest; (4) Of All Loveliness

Mistaken Identity

Sometimes I try too hard to find out who I am. I study myself. I look for patterns in my likes and dislikes and experiences, but the answers I find are only illusions.

Because my identity is hidden in Him. I am His, and nothing on this fragile, transient earth can define me. I am not defined by my talents. Or clothing style. Or my college major. Or the books I read. I am not a violinist, a writer, a bibliophile, a homeschooler, an introvert, a girl with a major penchant for hand-written letters and notes, a telephobic, a friend, a gardener. I am His.

And that is the only answer that will ever satisfy. It's the only category in which I will ever feel at home. Everything else is only a costume for my short time on life's stage.

He is, therefore I am. I am His. I am His. I am His.

"I am in Love, and out of it I will not go."

Embracing the Dark

Shakespeare, Galileo, Milton, Kepler, David; each wrote of the stars. Some in verse, some in science - all in wonder. However numerous their mentions, have you noticed stars never grow cliche'?

Scientifically speaking, we know these orbs are only the gaseous dustballs of the universe with no potential to support human life, and yet staring at them sends us into a speechless stupor. Lord Byron, a poet rarely caught without a quip, could not begin to describe them: "Ye stars! Which are the poetry of heaven!"

Unfortunately for me, my thoughts seldom reach as high as the heavens. My thoughts tend to stick to the solid, predictable and unoffending ground.

What do I do with this extra time I now have since I've graduated? What if the college doesn't accept my SAT scores? Have I picked the right degree? Do I take a job? Where? When? Am I doing this right? Will God allow me to feel His Presence or must I trust blindly? Must I continue fumbling in the dark, groping for a light switch?

But when the lights are off, the stars are easier to see. Galileo admitted, "I've loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night." Maybe that's the wiser perspective.

Isaiah wanted us to adopt this view when he cried, "Do you not know? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning?" Finger pointed to the sky, the wizened prophet must have shouted, "Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing." (Isaiah 40:21, 26)

When attempting to figure out my future, I used to feel stuck in the dark; but I'm now of the opinion that "in the dark" should no longer be a synonym for ignorance and confusion. Instead, it's a doorway into clarity. In the absence of man-made lamps, which illuminate at my command, I'm powerless. I can't trust myself. Reflection is all I have to do.

And so I count the stars and laugh at my smallness; remembering that the God who leads constellations through infinity can guide me, too.

(Photo courtesy: Pinterest)

Fragile Hearts

The words seemed to leap off the page.

Propelled to my inner thoughts with intense meaning. Inside I could feel the conviction of the words and their truth seep into my mind. A weight settled inside. I scrambled to straighten out the words pouring through the pages of my soul.

". . . Fragile heart . . ."

The first words I begin to understand.

Reading is my before-bed tradition. Reading anything . . . the Word, Mr. Putter and Tabby (I'm a child at heart, don't judge me), a Christian devotional, old letters . . . and I always have my quote notebook out, just in case I come across a profound thought that deserves to be written down. But there are times that I feel almost sure that God does some writing of His own. Some days the words seem to be written just for me.

The page is small, the words are crowded, the meaning is powerful to me.

"Handle with care," a message about our vulnerable and fragile lives and hearts.

My thoughts stubbornly acknowledge: "You've hurt others."

"I've been hurt. Hurting people hurt people," I defend myself.

" . . . forgiving others more readily . . ." I continue to read on paper pages.

"I know I've been wrong and done my part in the cat fight with her, but frankly, it's her fault."

I fight back the tears gathering in my frustration and confusion. I squeeze my eyes shut. I wait.

The words rip through me: "Lord, please, help me to understand her."

I open my eyes to receive moments of another's memories that my mind unravels. Scenes flash crossing my eyes. The same memories, yet different in a way I cannot ingest. Slowly I realize what I've done . . . I've seen through another's eyes.

Slowly, I let out the air, realizing that I've been holding my breath.

"God, is this what I'm supposed to see? Her side? . . . I have been hurt. But I've also hurt both of our fragile glass hearts. But forgiveness . . . I want to forgive. I want to be forgiven."

And so now, with this revelation, I begin the journey. Sometimes, fragile hearts are slow to heal, even slower to trust another into the inner-most chamber of our being. As I continue to remind myself the importance of another's perspective in all I do, I will attempt to tread carefully in the dance of communication. One's heart is not only fragile, but a gift to be held in utmost reverance and care.

Photo courtesy of Of All Loveliness

What About the Other Hand?

Yesterday while having my devotions, I had this thought.

Crucifixion is the only death you cannot accomplish on your own. Putting a gun in your mouth, cutting, harnessing yourself to a weight and jumping into the ocean, tying a rope to your neck - all of these offer you the power and control of the situation. Crucifixion on the other hand is not so easy. You can pierce your feet and nail your one arm, but what about the other hand? A part of you, while it seems minute in the whole scheme of things (your body would be wracked with pain at this point), there is still a piece of you that is not fully dead.

We cannot crucify ourselves to our fleshly nature and whims. We cannot mortify the deeds of the flesh to ourselves in our own strength. Should we try, we will never truly die - there will always be some area, no matter how small, that will be still be clinging to the fragments of sin.

Christ alone can truly crucify you . . . me. Indeed, He already has. Jesus has loosened the ropes and gag that had bound me to myself. My flesh has already been crucified with Christ. This life I now live, I must choose to live in faith, speaking truth to my soul that the word is dead to me, and I to the world.

For this reason, I rejoice in my death. I welcome it, cherish it, embrace it, breathe it. Death to myself means life to my spirit. In my external weakness, my soul is hid in the shadow of the Almighty. My flesh may beg for attention; why is it so painful? Yet, why do I afford it the listening ear? Sin has never done anything good for me, it deserves none of my recognition or respect. Christ alone brings fruition out of pain, strength out of weakness, life out of death.

Lord, take me deeper into the glories of Calvary.

The Well Will Not Run Dry

Ever feel completely drained?

I do.

On days like these, I stumble out of bed, feeling as rested as an insomniac running on four hours of sleep can be. I take out my Physics notebook and aim to conquer light refraction and wave length. My brain promptly conks out. I run errands with my mom across town, hit home for lunch, and head out to babysit for the rest of the afternoon. I'm physically tired from long days (those days when you wish bedtime was at 2 in the afternoon), early mornings (thanks, Insomnia), and late nights (I hate you, Insomnia). I'm spiritually starving because my Bible sits on the shelf while I run around trying to satisfy the demands of Real Life.

Some people would probably say the two are unrelated - physical and spiritual emptiness. I don't think so. One tends to exacerbate the other, and both together make for an unhappy combination.

It's ironic, really. The Word is meant to be our inexhaustible source of strength in the face of everything life throws at us, and yet right when life starts winding up for the pitch, we feel overburdened and let that all-important relationship begin to slide.

On nights like these, I make myself a cup of hot tea and sneak a cold apple dumpling from the fridge. I settle on my soft quilt and my cat jumps on the bed to cuddle. I put away the research report notes and open up the Word.

The well will not run dry.

Photo courtesy of a Well Traveled Woman