This post stems from the one I wrote a couple weeks ago, about voicing love. But this time, I want to talk about pulling out specific qualities in your friends and naming them, and what kind of power that carries.
I remember in the summer of 2010, I had just come on staff to YWAM Salem. Even though I had been there before, had incredible times, and made many friends, being on staff felt very odd, disillusioning and lonely. It was kind of a shock, and to be honest, and I felt very small. I wondered what impact I could make there, if I could make any at all. I had no direction as to why I was there, I was only there because I felt God nudge me to go. So, I was feeling pretty aimless.
One day I was at lunch and sitting with someone that I admire a lot, someone who is probably one of the top 3 biggest influences in my life. And we're just sitting there, chatting, and suddenly he said, "You know, Becky...I see so much growth in you. I was telling someone I mentor the other day of the importance of taking spirituality seriously, and I said to them, 'You know someone who does that? Becky Sanders.'"
It caught me off guard. I said, "What? Really?"
He said, "Definitely. I know you can't see it, but you've come a long way."
There were a few reasons this was a big deal to me. #1. I admire this person a great deal. #2. I was in the midst of a major dry season, spiritually. #3. I felt like I had actually been regressing instead of progressing. He went on to list more things he was noticing in me, and I remember sitting there, first of all extremely humbled, but second of all, SO encouraged. It was like his words were bringing to life another side of me that I didn't think would ever be able to take breath, because of all my downfalls, failures and repeated mistakes. By declaring my strengths, this person was becoming a life giver for me. Like I said in my previous post, there is not only so much power in knowing someone likes you for you, but there's HUGE power in specifically naming someone's growth points and calling them out.
So, again, here is a task for you: Find a friend. Your best friend. Or someone that you know very well, someone you've been able to observe, someone you're close enough to that you have the authority to be able to call out the growth you're seeing. Sit them down. Name the specific things you see (increased awareness, confidence, greater peace, better skills at something they're pursuing, etc). Mean what you say. Don't water it down with flowery speech and sappy sentiment (unless that person is into that kind of thing). And then take a step back and watch how calling those things forth causes your friend to be able to not only dwell in those growth points, but transform in a greater way than if no one had noticed.
Start paying attention to where you're friends minds and hearts are headed. Be conscious of your ability to be a life giver. And tell them when they're moving on the up and up.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
St. Mark's
(I found this buried in the depths of my blog drafts. I wrote it last year, after going to listen to a compline choir while on a mobile trip in Seattle.)
I recently got a chance to sit in on the compline choir at St. Mark's episcopal church in Seattle.
It moved me so much I wrote a poem about it. Revel in my cheesiness.
Tiptoe swiftly past
the doorman with the smiling eyes
raise my head to see
hundreds of figures.
Some intently focused
eyes closed and lips silently moving,
Others lightheartedly receiving,
eyes open and wandering.
Prostrate, kneeling, cross-legged
in pews, on ledges, on concrete floor
filling nearly every open space
in the colossal chapel of St. Mark's.
Find my seat on the cold ground
amidst people of every kind
cross my legs
and breathe.
The sea of sihouettes
allows me to absorb
into the atmosphere,
morph
into the hundreds
gathering for a half an hour
to simply listen.
Silence.
The church is void of
talking, moving, rustling.
The stillness is thick
but the anticipation is loud
each person waiting
in silent expectation
to hear sounds that allow them
to escape from the present
and enter into the unknown.
Finally a note is heard
Rising slowly from a undefined place
Growing greater as the seconds tick by
A note
in perfect pitch
Clear and crisp
echoing of the walls of the chapel
Then
another note
wraps its arms around the first
in perfect harmony
Then
another
and another
notes linking arms with one another
sung from the mouths of monks
hidden from sight.
Notes turn into words
words into prayers.
Verses from the holy scriptures
developed into chants
the chants of the Gregorian monks at st. Marks.
Their voices unite the crowd
all gathering, wonderstruck
by the beauty
of what is tickling their ears
melody, harmony, praise
striking in our hearts
that familiar feeling
of being enveloped in something
our heads deny
but our hearts can't help
but give into.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
The Struggle to Actively Struggle
I think today I want to write about resisting struggle, but that may or may not be where this post ends up.
First and foremost--I need to learn to take my own advice. I can't tell you how many times I tell people that active struggle will produce for them a full life, one with a broad spectrum of awareness, emotion, joy, pain, love, and everything in between. I consistently voice against numbing pain and unpleasantness through entertainment, spending, food, or what have you. But man, lately...I've been succumbing to the demon Numbness in an extraordinary way. It's a daily battle (or should I say daily defeat? Because I usually give in before the battle even begins.) It's easy enough for someone to tell someone else who is struggling with something to not give up, to keep going, that light will come, and that the beauty of life is in struggling. But what do you say to someone who isn't struggling today, but every day? With the same stuff? At what point does active struggle in a situation like that become a waste of time?
And that's kind of where I'm at. Active struggle feels like a waste of time to me. I guess you could call that hopelessness. Which everyone says is the worst possible place to be in. Which makes me feel ashamed that I would even succumb to something like that. Which makes me want to actively engage in my pain, but for the wrong reasons--for obligatory reasons. And as we all know, that never ends well.
So, I guess my ultimate question is...what is this whole struggle/pain concept all about? To struggle, in order to build character, in order to...what? To what end does having character get us? A full life? A better world? But then what? Why does Christ want to sharpen our character on earth? In order that we can sharpen each other? In order to build the character of the body of Christ? But again, to what end? A better world...but, a world that will eventually perish, right? So, then what? Is pain and struggle simply a product of The Fall of Man, something we just have to deal with while we're here, and just make the best of it until we reach heaven? If that's the case, then numbing myself out sounds justified!
When I think about things like this I always wonder what it would be like to have a secular point of view with these kinds of questions. What do secular philosophers say about struggle and pain, and what the point of it is? Is it reduced to biology? Is it unexplainable without some type of source inflicting the pain?
In one of Gregory Boyd's sermons I listened to recently, he spoke about how a lot of Christians are content to dismiss hard questions and say, 'Just accept the mysteries of God.' Gregory said that's simply a pious way of saying, "I don't care enough to think about it."
First and foremost--I need to learn to take my own advice. I can't tell you how many times I tell people that active struggle will produce for them a full life, one with a broad spectrum of awareness, emotion, joy, pain, love, and everything in between. I consistently voice against numbing pain and unpleasantness through entertainment, spending, food, or what have you. But man, lately...I've been succumbing to the demon Numbness in an extraordinary way. It's a daily battle (or should I say daily defeat? Because I usually give in before the battle even begins.) It's easy enough for someone to tell someone else who is struggling with something to not give up, to keep going, that light will come, and that the beauty of life is in struggling. But what do you say to someone who isn't struggling today, but every day? With the same stuff? At what point does active struggle in a situation like that become a waste of time?
And that's kind of where I'm at. Active struggle feels like a waste of time to me. I guess you could call that hopelessness. Which everyone says is the worst possible place to be in. Which makes me feel ashamed that I would even succumb to something like that. Which makes me want to actively engage in my pain, but for the wrong reasons--for obligatory reasons. And as we all know, that never ends well.
So, I guess my ultimate question is...what is this whole struggle/pain concept all about? To struggle, in order to build character, in order to...what? To what end does having character get us? A full life? A better world? But then what? Why does Christ want to sharpen our character on earth? In order that we can sharpen each other? In order to build the character of the body of Christ? But again, to what end? A better world...but, a world that will eventually perish, right? So, then what? Is pain and struggle simply a product of The Fall of Man, something we just have to deal with while we're here, and just make the best of it until we reach heaven? If that's the case, then numbing myself out sounds justified!
When I think about things like this I always wonder what it would be like to have a secular point of view with these kinds of questions. What do secular philosophers say about struggle and pain, and what the point of it is? Is it reduced to biology? Is it unexplainable without some type of source inflicting the pain?
In one of Gregory Boyd's sermons I listened to recently, he spoke about how a lot of Christians are content to dismiss hard questions and say, 'Just accept the mysteries of God.' Gregory said that's simply a pious way of saying, "I don't care enough to think about it."
Friday, December 23, 2011
Drawing the Line Between Good Fun and Moral Compromise
I was making a Netflix queue the other day, and added the movie 'Horrible Bosses' to the list, before I knew what is was about. I looked at the ratings and description a couple minutes later and decided I didn't want to see it because it would probably make me feel slimed (crude and sexual content, pervasive language, etc). So, I took it off the queue.
A couple days a go, I mailed back the last movie I rented knowing I didn't have anything coming from Netflix anytime soon. But today I get home from work, and what's in my mailbox? A red envelope...Oh, a Netflix movie. Which one is it? 'Horrible Bosses'. Oh man. Apparently I didn't take it off the queue like I thought I did. Well, crap, now I have to watch it. For real, I couldn't just send the movie back. I couldn't just not watch it. (p.s., I don't get this thought pattern--what goes on in our brains that makes us so eager to do something that we know is going to make us feel terrible? Not necessarily after, but even during? It fascinates me.)
So, I watch the movie. The first 30 minutes were so repulsive, I almost turned it off. But then it got funny. And I started belly laughing at some parts. And I'm not gonna lie, by the end of it, the movie was hilarious. The characters were great, the plot wasn't totally predictable, and I like I said, I laughed really hard. So, the point is, now that I'm done watching it, I don't really regret it. It was funny. Some parts were vile, for sure. In some parts, I covered my eyes. But I think I ultimately enjoyed this movie.
My question now is...what does that signify? Watching a movie like this HAS to be doing stuff to my mind and heart--slowly creating moral callouses, right? Excusing and even laughing at degrading speech, violence, perversion...Today I shrugged my shoulders at all of that and said, "Yeah, but some parts were just so funny!" We all watch these things and act like we remain unaffected. We all say we can handle it. But can we really? And, if we really can remain unaffected, is that even healthy? And if not, where do we draw the line in what we take in? Can we draw a line, with all the media/information/ads we take in that display all of this crap on a daily basis anyway?
Anyway, questions we've all heard/thought about before, but I was reminded of them strongly once again tonight. Share your thoughts!
A couple days a go, I mailed back the last movie I rented knowing I didn't have anything coming from Netflix anytime soon. But today I get home from work, and what's in my mailbox? A red envelope...Oh, a Netflix movie. Which one is it? 'Horrible Bosses'. Oh man. Apparently I didn't take it off the queue like I thought I did. Well, crap, now I have to watch it. For real, I couldn't just send the movie back. I couldn't just not watch it. (p.s., I don't get this thought pattern--what goes on in our brains that makes us so eager to do something that we know is going to make us feel terrible? Not necessarily after, but even during? It fascinates me.)
So, I watch the movie. The first 30 minutes were so repulsive, I almost turned it off. But then it got funny. And I started belly laughing at some parts. And I'm not gonna lie, by the end of it, the movie was hilarious. The characters were great, the plot wasn't totally predictable, and I like I said, I laughed really hard. So, the point is, now that I'm done watching it, I don't really regret it. It was funny. Some parts were vile, for sure. In some parts, I covered my eyes. But I think I ultimately enjoyed this movie.
My question now is...what does that signify? Watching a movie like this HAS to be doing stuff to my mind and heart--slowly creating moral callouses, right? Excusing and even laughing at degrading speech, violence, perversion...Today I shrugged my shoulders at all of that and said, "Yeah, but some parts were just so funny!" We all watch these things and act like we remain unaffected. We all say we can handle it. But can we really? And, if we really can remain unaffected, is that even healthy? And if not, where do we draw the line in what we take in? Can we draw a line, with all the media/information/ads we take in that display all of this crap on a daily basis anyway?
Anyway, questions we've all heard/thought about before, but I was reminded of them strongly once again tonight. Share your thoughts!
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
The Power of Voicing Love
Have you ever had someone like you? A friend, I mean. And not just like you, as in they can stand you, but like you, as in they love everything about you: they think you're hilarious, they love your personality, they can't get enough of you.
Man, I love friends like that.
Why? Because when I know someone likes me, it brings out the best in me. I don't have to worry about saying the right thing, saying the wrong thing...or even saying anything, necessarily. When I know someone likes me, I let down all of my guards, and all of my defenses because I know that in the mind of that person, I can do no wrong. I can be myself. How freeing is that?
Now, I would assume this is true for most people. Everyone loves to be liked. It's the best.
But how often do you, when you really enjoy someone, tell them so? There's a proverb in the Bible, Proverbs 27:5 that says, "Better an open rebuke than love carefully concealed." Thank you Cynthia Stevens, to opening my eyes to the gorgeous truth behind this verse. I think I've always thought of this verse in terms of romantic love, but, lately, I'm seeing how powerful it can be in platonic friendships. And just to clear up some confusion, I'm not really talking about encouragement here--I can encourage any random person on any random thing if someone asked me to. And honestly, that kind of obligatory crap would cheapen this verse. I'm talking about when you're just really fond of someone. I'm talking about those people (and we all have 'em) that we just carry an unexplainable partiality towards. We just like them. We can't explain why. They just warm our hearts when they come into view. When their name is spoken, we feel a fondness. When we see a missed call from them, we get excited to call them back. Those kinds of people are special, and don't come around very often. What if that person, that person you love so dearly, has no idea the extent in which they're loved by you? What if you, simply voicing that fact, would open up a world of confidence for that person, all because they know someone likes them for them, and for at least that person, they don't have to be someone they're not?
Do we even get what a big deal that is?
Now do two things.
#1. Think about the people in your life that have expressed sincere partiality toward you, in the past or recently (I can think of 2 major ones). Think about how their honesty changed the way you view yourself (it made me more confident, made me dream bigger, made me like myself more).
#2. Now, think of the people in your life that you really like (I can think of a few.) Have you told them? (not yet.) Will you choose to have the boldness to tell them how awesome they are, possibly being a stepping stone to a turning point in their life?
As humans, we need this kind of honesty. We need people who like us, to tell us! Because that's when lives are changed for the better. That's when shy people start to speak up. It's when people who think they're stupid begin to think they're smart. It's when that one bit of truth speaks louder than anything else, and people begin to see they're worth something.
So, if you're fond of someone.. go out and tell them just how fond you actually are.
Man, I love friends like that.
Why? Because when I know someone likes me, it brings out the best in me. I don't have to worry about saying the right thing, saying the wrong thing...or even saying anything, necessarily. When I know someone likes me, I let down all of my guards, and all of my defenses because I know that in the mind of that person, I can do no wrong. I can be myself. How freeing is that?
Now, I would assume this is true for most people. Everyone loves to be liked. It's the best.
But how often do you, when you really enjoy someone, tell them so? There's a proverb in the Bible, Proverbs 27:5 that says, "Better an open rebuke than love carefully concealed." Thank you Cynthia Stevens, to opening my eyes to the gorgeous truth behind this verse. I think I've always thought of this verse in terms of romantic love, but, lately, I'm seeing how powerful it can be in platonic friendships. And just to clear up some confusion, I'm not really talking about encouragement here--I can encourage any random person on any random thing if someone asked me to. And honestly, that kind of obligatory crap would cheapen this verse. I'm talking about when you're just really fond of someone. I'm talking about those people (and we all have 'em) that we just carry an unexplainable partiality towards. We just like them. We can't explain why. They just warm our hearts when they come into view. When their name is spoken, we feel a fondness. When we see a missed call from them, we get excited to call them back. Those kinds of people are special, and don't come around very often. What if that person, that person you love so dearly, has no idea the extent in which they're loved by you? What if you, simply voicing that fact, would open up a world of confidence for that person, all because they know someone likes them for them, and for at least that person, they don't have to be someone they're not?
Do we even get what a big deal that is?
Now do two things.
#1. Think about the people in your life that have expressed sincere partiality toward you, in the past or recently (I can think of 2 major ones). Think about how their honesty changed the way you view yourself (it made me more confident, made me dream bigger, made me like myself more).
#2. Now, think of the people in your life that you really like (I can think of a few.) Have you told them? (not yet.) Will you choose to have the boldness to tell them how awesome they are, possibly being a stepping stone to a turning point in their life?
As humans, we need this kind of honesty. We need people who like us, to tell us! Because that's when lives are changed for the better. That's when shy people start to speak up. It's when people who think they're stupid begin to think they're smart. It's when that one bit of truth speaks louder than anything else, and people begin to see they're worth something.
So, if you're fond of someone.. go out and tell them just how fond you actually are.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Failing at Accepting Normalcy
It's good to have friends who can help you see how far you've come when all you can really see is repeated mistakes, repeated lessons, repeated everything.
(I'm going to be honest and say that I fear these posts are becoming (or have always been) way too personal, but I'm choosing to voice this stuff anyway, because maybe someone might stumble across it and feel less crazy about themselves, and God knows that's what we all ultimately want, right? Right.)
I have this ongoing inner battle inside of me that tends to rear it's ugly head when I have nothing to do but sit. It gets shut up through busyness and adventure and risk taking. So when I'm not doing those things, I get slammed with discontentment, apathy, social isolation, depression...I've just always really struggled with living a 'normal' life. Now I've learned this far along in my life now, that just because I struggle with living a 'normal' life, that doesn't mean I need to reject 'normal'. And actually, that's my battle. I'm trying to embrace normal. Because I know the value in it. But each attempt has the same end--I just get pissed off. But I'm a stuffer, so I just bury the anger. But, as we all know, feelings have a way of surfacing whether we want them to or not. And for the first time in my life (in the past year or so), people are coming up to me, people I don't even know that well, and telling me they're noticing my anger becoming a problem. They all say I'm polite and nice, but I carry a weight of anger that's visible. So, I try to work on it, externally, but like I said, feelings surface, and I'm pretty much failing at hiding this anger that apparently people can see. But I think maybe I just need to come to terms with something--I am angry, actually. I'm angry that I'm 24 and still have no idea where my life is going. I'm angry that I chose to work a menial job and save money in a town that's incredibly difficult for me to thrive in. I'm angry that I can never remember that fact and I'm always trying to force myself to thrive here (this is 'return to Lee's Summit' number FOUR), when my soul obviously says "no". But I try to make it happen, like a parent forcing their child into engineering when he really wants to be in the arts.
I think one thing I'm angry about the most is that I've been suckered into shame and fear based living my whole life, and I'm still suckered into it, on a daily basis. Would I be so concerned with all of this if I knew that life is a journey and my process is my process and God will perfect the good work that he started in me? No. I'd be at freaking peace. That is a word that's foreign to my soul right now.
I think ultimately I fear turning my circumstances into remedies for the issues in my heart. Because since I'm feeling all of this, all I want to do is run--to any place other than this one. And I know that would fix things, temporarily. But I'm longing for a true fix. True peace! The end of striving, of being ashamed, of fearing the inevitable. And I don't want an upward spiral of relief, I don't want things to get worse before they get better, I just want relief now. Because this is getting so OLD. And I'm out of ways to fight it.
... #frustrated
(I'm going to be honest and say that I fear these posts are becoming (or have always been) way too personal, but I'm choosing to voice this stuff anyway, because maybe someone might stumble across it and feel less crazy about themselves, and God knows that's what we all ultimately want, right? Right.)
I have this ongoing inner battle inside of me that tends to rear it's ugly head when I have nothing to do but sit. It gets shut up through busyness and adventure and risk taking. So when I'm not doing those things, I get slammed with discontentment, apathy, social isolation, depression...I've just always really struggled with living a 'normal' life. Now I've learned this far along in my life now, that just because I struggle with living a 'normal' life, that doesn't mean I need to reject 'normal'. And actually, that's my battle. I'm trying to embrace normal. Because I know the value in it. But each attempt has the same end--I just get pissed off. But I'm a stuffer, so I just bury the anger. But, as we all know, feelings have a way of surfacing whether we want them to or not. And for the first time in my life (in the past year or so), people are coming up to me, people I don't even know that well, and telling me they're noticing my anger becoming a problem. They all say I'm polite and nice, but I carry a weight of anger that's visible. So, I try to work on it, externally, but like I said, feelings surface, and I'm pretty much failing at hiding this anger that apparently people can see. But I think maybe I just need to come to terms with something--I am angry, actually. I'm angry that I'm 24 and still have no idea where my life is going. I'm angry that I chose to work a menial job and save money in a town that's incredibly difficult for me to thrive in. I'm angry that I can never remember that fact and I'm always trying to force myself to thrive here (this is 'return to Lee's Summit' number FOUR), when my soul obviously says "no". But I try to make it happen, like a parent forcing their child into engineering when he really wants to be in the arts.
I think one thing I'm angry about the most is that I've been suckered into shame and fear based living my whole life, and I'm still suckered into it, on a daily basis. Would I be so concerned with all of this if I knew that life is a journey and my process is my process and God will perfect the good work that he started in me? No. I'd be at freaking peace. That is a word that's foreign to my soul right now.
I think ultimately I fear turning my circumstances into remedies for the issues in my heart. Because since I'm feeling all of this, all I want to do is run--to any place other than this one. And I know that would fix things, temporarily. But I'm longing for a true fix. True peace! The end of striving, of being ashamed, of fearing the inevitable. And I don't want an upward spiral of relief, I don't want things to get worse before they get better, I just want relief now. Because this is getting so OLD. And I'm out of ways to fight it.
... #frustrated
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
2011 Christmas Season Bucket List
AND NOW....
my first post in quite a while that is neither angsty nor philosophical nor religious nor brooding.
I just want to talk about how much I love CHRISTMAS!
I love it. It's November 10th, but already all I want to do is listen to Christmas music and do crafty things and watch heartwarming movies and drink warm mugs of liquid bursting with flavor.
And also, this year I started a 2011 Christmas Season Bucket List. I want to do all of these things, plus more, AND YOU'RE ALL INVITED. If you want to add more to the list please do! (please. Right now it's reached the level of 'heartwarming' but there needs to be a little more adventure in there.)
#1: Christmas In The Park
#2: Christmas Cookie Baking Party
#3: Christmas card making
#4: Knitting
#5: Putting up the Christmas Tree while listening to Johnny Mathis' Christmas album
#6: Watch A Charlie Brown's Christmas and Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer, back-to-back
#7: Watch Elf
#8: Sledding, if it snows
Ok...now you fill in the rest.
my first post in quite a while that is neither angsty nor philosophical nor religious nor brooding.
I just want to talk about how much I love CHRISTMAS!
I love it. It's November 10th, but already all I want to do is listen to Christmas music and do crafty things and watch heartwarming movies and drink warm mugs of liquid bursting with flavor.
And also, this year I started a 2011 Christmas Season Bucket List. I want to do all of these things, plus more, AND YOU'RE ALL INVITED. If you want to add more to the list please do! (please. Right now it's reached the level of 'heartwarming' but there needs to be a little more adventure in there.)
#1: Christmas In The Park
#2: Christmas Cookie Baking Party
#3: Christmas card making
#4: Knitting
#5: Putting up the Christmas Tree while listening to Johnny Mathis' Christmas album
#6: Watch A Charlie Brown's Christmas and Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer, back-to-back
#7: Watch Elf
#8: Sledding, if it snows
Ok...now you fill in the rest.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Femininity (Not Just For The Ladiez)
You know God is trying to draw your attention to something when it starts popping up in random daily conversation, in the lives of your friends, in excerpts from books...
My current one: femininity. Not only is that a hard word to spell, it's also a hard word to say (fem-in-in-ity). Whenever I think consider writing about or contemplating femininity, I automatically feel like one of two things: a lesbian feminist or a textbook 'lonely girl' from He's Just Not That Into You.
Femininity is a touchy subject, especially from the mouths of women. People say masculinity is getting lost, but true femininity has been lost for just as long, if you ask me.
So obviously, just with what was mentioned above, there's a fear in even talking about the subject. What if diving into it causes us women to become one of those two things? Most of us fear both just as equally. But we have to start talking about it. And rewiring our perspectives on it. Because something I've noticed lately, too, in my own heart, is a buried hostility towards the feminine, which I find odd. Because mostly you hear of women harboring hostility towards the masculine, but hardly the feminine. And I don't just mean things like dresses and flowers, I mean women authors, leaders, thinkers, and the like. Example: I'm reading a book right now called Pilgrimage Of A Soul by Phileena Heuertz. I've known about this book for probably a year. And as most of you know, I'm enamored and wooed by contemplative living, and eat up any and all books written on the subject. But for some reason, I avoided buying this book like I avoid talking on the phone (I HATE talking on the phone and will avoid it for weeks. Sorry.) I would see it pop up everywhere online, in my Amazon recommendations, Twitter, personal emails...and I would find myself irritated by everything about it, down to the stupid butterfly on the cover. I just didn't want anything to do with this book. I didn't want to even hear what this woman had to say. I labeled it sappy and void of substance, just because (and I didn't realize it at the time) it was written by a girl. But, because it wouldn't get out of my life, I figured God was trying to tell me something. So I bought it. Shock surprise, it's INCREDIBLE. Blowing my mind. This woman is brilliant.
So at this point I'm just convicted. I don't feel like Phileena's book has proven to me that I should respect and embrace the feminine (although I understand that I should). I just feel like it's humbled me. It's humbled me to respect my own gender. And not only that, but honor it. And maybe, it's causing me to look at my own inferiority complex. Because obviously if I don't respect and honor my own gender, what does that say about how I view myself? If I think women authors have books that are void of intellectual substance, what do I think of my own mind? (stupid.) If I think women leaders don't know what they're doing, how do I view my own leadership? (incapable). What I'm getting at, what the bottom line is, is that I, personally, think women are inferior. It's hard for me to admit that, but I'm not drawing any other conclusions from what I'm writing, other then that fact. Women aren't as good as men. I know that's not true. But it's obviously what my heart thinks.
This is a surprising theme for me to be learning right now, really. But, I think God is opening my eyes to this more and more because, I, as a woman, as a privileged Western woman, need to fight for my gender. This mindset that I'm carrying, whether I like to admit it or not is contributing to sexism and gendercide around the world. Because all injustices start within the heart. Issues of the heart create ripple effects that create devastation around the world. No one just wakes up and wants to traffick someone. No one wakes up and wants to drive a country into ruin. It's all issues of the heart that grow and morph into monsters when they're left undealt with. And who knows if my negligence of valuing females could be robbing someone of their worth and perpetuating this terrible cycle that women are second to men.
It's a lot to think about.
My current one: femininity. Not only is that a hard word to spell, it's also a hard word to say (fem-in-in-ity). Whenever I think consider writing about or contemplating femininity, I automatically feel like one of two things: a lesbian feminist or a textbook 'lonely girl' from He's Just Not That Into You.
Femininity is a touchy subject, especially from the mouths of women. People say masculinity is getting lost, but true femininity has been lost for just as long, if you ask me.
So obviously, just with what was mentioned above, there's a fear in even talking about the subject. What if diving into it causes us women to become one of those two things? Most of us fear both just as equally. But we have to start talking about it. And rewiring our perspectives on it. Because something I've noticed lately, too, in my own heart, is a buried hostility towards the feminine, which I find odd. Because mostly you hear of women harboring hostility towards the masculine, but hardly the feminine. And I don't just mean things like dresses and flowers, I mean women authors, leaders, thinkers, and the like. Example: I'm reading a book right now called Pilgrimage Of A Soul by Phileena Heuertz. I've known about this book for probably a year. And as most of you know, I'm enamored and wooed by contemplative living, and eat up any and all books written on the subject. But for some reason, I avoided buying this book like I avoid talking on the phone (I HATE talking on the phone and will avoid it for weeks. Sorry.) I would see it pop up everywhere online, in my Amazon recommendations, Twitter, personal emails...and I would find myself irritated by everything about it, down to the stupid butterfly on the cover. I just didn't want anything to do with this book. I didn't want to even hear what this woman had to say. I labeled it sappy and void of substance, just because (and I didn't realize it at the time) it was written by a girl. But, because it wouldn't get out of my life, I figured God was trying to tell me something. So I bought it. Shock surprise, it's INCREDIBLE. Blowing my mind. This woman is brilliant.
So at this point I'm just convicted. I don't feel like Phileena's book has proven to me that I should respect and embrace the feminine (although I understand that I should). I just feel like it's humbled me. It's humbled me to respect my own gender. And not only that, but honor it. And maybe, it's causing me to look at my own inferiority complex. Because obviously if I don't respect and honor my own gender, what does that say about how I view myself? If I think women authors have books that are void of intellectual substance, what do I think of my own mind? (stupid.) If I think women leaders don't know what they're doing, how do I view my own leadership? (incapable). What I'm getting at, what the bottom line is, is that I, personally, think women are inferior. It's hard for me to admit that, but I'm not drawing any other conclusions from what I'm writing, other then that fact. Women aren't as good as men. I know that's not true. But it's obviously what my heart thinks.
This is a surprising theme for me to be learning right now, really. But, I think God is opening my eyes to this more and more because, I, as a woman, as a privileged Western woman, need to fight for my gender. This mindset that I'm carrying, whether I like to admit it or not is contributing to sexism and gendercide around the world. Because all injustices start within the heart. Issues of the heart create ripple effects that create devastation around the world. No one just wakes up and wants to traffick someone. No one wakes up and wants to drive a country into ruin. It's all issues of the heart that grow and morph into monsters when they're left undealt with. And who knows if my negligence of valuing females could be robbing someone of their worth and perpetuating this terrible cycle that women are second to men.
It's a lot to think about.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The Contemplative Balance
I am growing tired of extremes.
I've been asking myself when I will reach a point where I realize that contemplation is a necessity. I tend to treat it like a bad habit that needs to be repressed. But when I ignore contemplation, I notice characteristic consequences pop up. First, my utilization of mind numbing entertainment sky rockets. After that, it's social binges. And after those, after realizing how unfulfilling both of those are, it's sitting in my room eating spoonfuls of chocolate and feeling sorry for myself.
That sounds dramatic, but it's true. When I choose to not nurture the spirituality that I tend towards, I spiral downward faster than an crashing jet. Not to mention, when weeks or even months go by of ignoring it, I notice key aspects of my personality getting dumbed down as well--my intellect, my sense of humor, my social skills. Because by rejecting contemplation, I'm rejecting the way God created me and therefore rejecting myself. How can I thrive when I'm repressing the very thing that gives me life?
But then there's the other extreme. The contemplative life is a fairly new concept for me, I've only known about it less than a year. But as I've been exploring it, I began noticing that, just like everything else, contemplation has the ability to get distorted and skewed, very slowly and subtly, with us hardly noticing. In The Seven Storey Mountain, Thomas Merton talks about how great heights can be reached by 'metaphysical speculation', and that it can introduce someone into great and pure pleasures, that only get deeper as you speculate more on things you're learning. But sometimes, even if someone is learning great things about the Christian faith, those speculations won't transcend the 'natural realm' (the tangible world, visible to the eye) into the 'spiritual realm' (the world invisible to the eye, or, union with God, which is the purpose of contemplation).
He goes on to say, "In such an event, you get, not contemplation, but a kind of intellectual and esthetic gluttony--a high and refined and even virtuous form of selfishness. And when it leads to no movement of the will towards God, no efficacious love of Him, it is sterile and dead, this meditation, and could even accidentally become, under certain circumstances, a kind of a sin--at least an imperfection."
At first, that was hard for me to read. It made my stomach turn thinking that this new spiritual discipline I had discovered had the potential to turn really ugly. But on the other hand, I was slightly comforted because I figured out why I would sometimes come out of time spent in reflection and solitude (times that were supposed to be rich with inner peace and satisfaction of communion with a Being completely outside of myself) feeling weighted by selfishness, my sight darkened by self indulgence.
And I'm still working on finding the balance. Judging by my track record with life, you can probably guess that it will take me a long time to figure it out. Although I'm finding that all things concerning God are never about arriving at the end, but being patient in the upwards spiral of growth and learning. I do still pray, though, that the times of bobbing back and forth between ignoring contemplation all together and diving in so much that I'm drowning in my own pride and pleasure at having 'arrived' at such spiritual heights, will grow fewer and farther between, and I can dwell in God's presence, not dependent on emotion or feeling, but with a still and quiet soul as Psalm 131:2 states. "Surely I have composed and quieted my soul; Like a weaned child rests against his mother, My soul is like a weaned child within me."
I've been asking myself when I will reach a point where I realize that contemplation is a necessity. I tend to treat it like a bad habit that needs to be repressed. But when I ignore contemplation, I notice characteristic consequences pop up. First, my utilization of mind numbing entertainment sky rockets. After that, it's social binges. And after those, after realizing how unfulfilling both of those are, it's sitting in my room eating spoonfuls of chocolate and feeling sorry for myself.
That sounds dramatic, but it's true. When I choose to not nurture the spirituality that I tend towards, I spiral downward faster than an crashing jet. Not to mention, when weeks or even months go by of ignoring it, I notice key aspects of my personality getting dumbed down as well--my intellect, my sense of humor, my social skills. Because by rejecting contemplation, I'm rejecting the way God created me and therefore rejecting myself. How can I thrive when I'm repressing the very thing that gives me life?
But then there's the other extreme. The contemplative life is a fairly new concept for me, I've only known about it less than a year. But as I've been exploring it, I began noticing that, just like everything else, contemplation has the ability to get distorted and skewed, very slowly and subtly, with us hardly noticing. In The Seven Storey Mountain, Thomas Merton talks about how great heights can be reached by 'metaphysical speculation', and that it can introduce someone into great and pure pleasures, that only get deeper as you speculate more on things you're learning. But sometimes, even if someone is learning great things about the Christian faith, those speculations won't transcend the 'natural realm' (the tangible world, visible to the eye) into the 'spiritual realm' (the world invisible to the eye, or, union with God, which is the purpose of contemplation).
He goes on to say, "In such an event, you get, not contemplation, but a kind of intellectual and esthetic gluttony--a high and refined and even virtuous form of selfishness. And when it leads to no movement of the will towards God, no efficacious love of Him, it is sterile and dead, this meditation, and could even accidentally become, under certain circumstances, a kind of a sin--at least an imperfection."
At first, that was hard for me to read. It made my stomach turn thinking that this new spiritual discipline I had discovered had the potential to turn really ugly. But on the other hand, I was slightly comforted because I figured out why I would sometimes come out of time spent in reflection and solitude (times that were supposed to be rich with inner peace and satisfaction of communion with a Being completely outside of myself) feeling weighted by selfishness, my sight darkened by self indulgence.
And I'm still working on finding the balance. Judging by my track record with life, you can probably guess that it will take me a long time to figure it out. Although I'm finding that all things concerning God are never about arriving at the end, but being patient in the upwards spiral of growth and learning. I do still pray, though, that the times of bobbing back and forth between ignoring contemplation all together and diving in so much that I'm drowning in my own pride and pleasure at having 'arrived' at such spiritual heights, will grow fewer and farther between, and I can dwell in God's presence, not dependent on emotion or feeling, but with a still and quiet soul as Psalm 131:2 states. "Surely I have composed and quieted my soul; Like a weaned child rests against his mother, My soul is like a weaned child within me."
Friday, September 30, 2011
Two Weeks Of Juice
Today marks the day of my longest juice fast yet. Fourteen days. I'd say that's impressive. I guess.
So I woke up this morning, at 9 am, got an Ezekial sprouted grain tortilla, put some almond butter on it, drank some coffee...I was expecting my taste buds to explode. Didn't really happen. I was expecting tons of energy. Didn't really happen. Instead I actually got depressed. My stomach was full. I now have access to any and all food I want, really. That doesn't make me excited. It makes me feel a little overfed.
I think there's something interesting that happens during a juice fast. You never realize all you learn or experience until you take your first bite of food again. I was reflecting during the fast, wondering what I was learning, and honestly, I couldn't think of much. I didn't feel transformed. I didn't feel connected to God, at all. Which really shocked me. Because when you willingly lay down food, something that is such a comfort for so long, you expect God to just flood in. But he didn't. I just felt normal. Not like he was close, or like he was far away. Just normal. Level. Steady.
But then today I ate food again. It tasted good for like five seconds and then it was nothing special. I was disappointed. And then, for the first time in two weeks...I felt God rush in. That familiar feeling that I can never describe fully to anyone, that feeling of my soul groaning and my heart being emptied, yet being comforted somehow by something that I can't pinpoint. What did I feel like he was saying? That my fast, although it was a bold move, is not the fix that I wanted it to be. It didn't bring freedom and release like I thought it would. Maybe it could, at another time. I know fasts are powerful. But this one was simply a prelude to a butt-load of healing and challenges to come. I'm at the beginning of something. Not the end.
How do I feel about that? Frustrated. And annoyed. And tired. But the more I try at this whole thing, the more I realize that something else besides me is guiding the perfect timing for my healing. And I'm a little out of control in all of this. Not in a way that makes me feel chaotic, but a way that makes me feel peace actually.
So...imma let it roll. Let it be.
And if you want to go out for coffee or greek food or salad or hummus or something...I can do that now.
So I woke up this morning, at 9 am, got an Ezekial sprouted grain tortilla, put some almond butter on it, drank some coffee...I was expecting my taste buds to explode. Didn't really happen. I was expecting tons of energy. Didn't really happen. Instead I actually got depressed. My stomach was full. I now have access to any and all food I want, really. That doesn't make me excited. It makes me feel a little overfed.
I think there's something interesting that happens during a juice fast. You never realize all you learn or experience until you take your first bite of food again. I was reflecting during the fast, wondering what I was learning, and honestly, I couldn't think of much. I didn't feel transformed. I didn't feel connected to God, at all. Which really shocked me. Because when you willingly lay down food, something that is such a comfort for so long, you expect God to just flood in. But he didn't. I just felt normal. Not like he was close, or like he was far away. Just normal. Level. Steady.
But then today I ate food again. It tasted good for like five seconds and then it was nothing special. I was disappointed. And then, for the first time in two weeks...I felt God rush in. That familiar feeling that I can never describe fully to anyone, that feeling of my soul groaning and my heart being emptied, yet being comforted somehow by something that I can't pinpoint. What did I feel like he was saying? That my fast, although it was a bold move, is not the fix that I wanted it to be. It didn't bring freedom and release like I thought it would. Maybe it could, at another time. I know fasts are powerful. But this one was simply a prelude to a butt-load of healing and challenges to come. I'm at the beginning of something. Not the end.
How do I feel about that? Frustrated. And annoyed. And tired. But the more I try at this whole thing, the more I realize that something else besides me is guiding the perfect timing for my healing. And I'm a little out of control in all of this. Not in a way that makes me feel chaotic, but a way that makes me feel peace actually.
So...imma let it roll. Let it be.
And if you want to go out for coffee or greek food or salad or hummus or something...I can do that now.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Deflated Ego
Nothing in my head or my heart is my own.
I am a mass of the thoughts, theories, and musings of other people.
Is that normal?
I am neither profound nor exceptional.
Who is?
My heart made up a 'should's' and my life is a race to meet the requirements and standards of the world around me.
And so is yours.
Will I ever be my own?
Is anyone their own?
"I said to myself, “Behold, I have magnified and increased wisdom more than all who were over Jerusalem before me; and my mind has observed a wealth of wisdom and knowledge.” And I set my mind to know wisdom and to know madness and folly; I realized that this also is striving after wind. Because in much wisdom there is much grief, and increasing knowledge results in increasing pain."
"So I turned to consider wisdom, madness and folly; for what will the man do who will come after the king except what has already been done? And I saw that wisdom excels folly as light excels darkness. The wise man’s eyes are in his head, but the fool walks in darkness. And yet I know that one fate befalls them both. Then I said to myself, “As is the fate of the fool, it will also befall me. Why then have I been extremely wise?” So I said to myself, “This too is vanity.” For there is no lasting remembrance of the wise man as with the fool, inasmuch as in the coming days all will be forgotten. And how the wise man and the fool alike die! So I hated life, for the work which had been done under the sun was grievous to me; because everything is futility and striving after wind." Ecclesiastes 1: 17-18, Ecclesiastes 2: 12-17
I am a mass of the thoughts, theories, and musings of other people.
Is that normal?
I am neither profound nor exceptional.
Who is?
My heart made up a 'should's' and my life is a race to meet the requirements and standards of the world around me.
And so is yours.
Will I ever be my own?
Is anyone their own?
"I said to myself, “Behold, I have magnified and increased wisdom more than all who were over Jerusalem before me; and my mind has observed a wealth of wisdom and knowledge.” And I set my mind to know wisdom and to know madness and folly; I realized that this also is striving after wind. Because in much wisdom there is much grief, and increasing knowledge results in increasing pain."
"So I turned to consider wisdom, madness and folly; for what will the man do who will come after the king except what has already been done? And I saw that wisdom excels folly as light excels darkness. The wise man’s eyes are in his head, but the fool walks in darkness. And yet I know that one fate befalls them both. Then I said to myself, “As is the fate of the fool, it will also befall me. Why then have I been extremely wise?” So I said to myself, “This too is vanity.” For there is no lasting remembrance of the wise man as with the fool, inasmuch as in the coming days all will be forgotten. And how the wise man and the fool alike die! So I hated life, for the work which had been done under the sun was grievous to me; because everything is futility and striving after wind." Ecclesiastes 1: 17-18, Ecclesiastes 2: 12-17
Monday, June 13, 2011
Mutuality in The Moon
Do you ever step outside on nights when the weather carries with it that specific temperature or that specific smell that strikes something inside of your heart that sends your heart whirling and tingles radiating from your chest to the tips of your fingers? Something in the air, whether it's the smell, the temperature, the moisture...sparks something in your spirit.
I stepped outside tonight after being in a stuffy room and was hit by the crispness of the air and the clarity of the sky. I poised myself on my tiptoes and looked straight up and noticed (albeit too briefly) each star in the sky that was sparkling so bright I could make out the defined edges of each sparkle. Then I turned on my toes getting ready to do a quick spin (because that's what I do when I feel all warm and fuzzy inside) and as I turned my head I noticed the moon.
I work at a missions organization that is very injustice focused. I hear A LOT about injustice. It pains me to say I might be slightly numb to all the pictures of babies with swollen bellies and flies around their heads, but when you see the pictures and hear the stats time and time again, they lose their punch, and I think we can all relate to that. But I've recently learned about the plight of North Korea and it has been sticking with me like no injustice ever has. Ever since I heard a firsthand account from a co-founder of a US North Korean advocacy center, it's been like a splinter in my heart that's continually aching. My heart aches for the North Koreans. And it's for this reason--yes, they're starving, they're cold, they're subjected to forced labor. But what resonates as the greatest injustice of North Korea is this: they are stripped of freedom of thought. They're subjected to mental manipulation and trauma that cannot simply be relieved by giving them food or shelter. It takes years of therapy and counseling to undo the lies that are intentionally planted in the mind of North Koreans by the Kim dynasty. This video is a great glimpse into the life of a North Korean labor camp defector. But pay attention specifically to 34:34-35:21 and you can see that even escaping the worst conditions in the world and living well in society cannot alleviate years of brainwashing and emotional torture.
Watching this video and seeing the weight that Shin will carry the rest of his life, simply because he was born into the country of North Korea, makes me want to kayak the entire Pacific ocean all the way to Kim Jung-Il's palace and take matters and justice into my own hands. Someone STOP this succession of crazed dictators, in the name of Jesus.
The entire crisis just feels hopeless, sometimes.
But tonight, as I was looking at the moon, it was impressed up on my heart that the North Koreans, thousands of miles away, look at the exact same moon that I do. And that may sound cheesy, but think about how cool that is. At night, no matter where I am...I see the same moon, in all it's splendor, as the North Koreans. I found such mutuality with these people I've never met simply from looking at this moon. Sometimes injustice seems so far away, but in looking at the moon, it makes me feel like it's up close. Tangible. It hits me that people in North Korea, in labor camps, starving and eating kernels of corn or bits of grass to stay alive can look up in their desperation and see the beauty of the moon, a chunk of rock floating in space that each of us on planet earth can see...and I wonder if God didn't create it just for that reason--to bring us all to a place of mutuality with one another. Amidst pain, struggle and suffering, when we feel stuck, insignificant and useless, we can see something like the moon and be reminded that the world is big, God is bigger, and there's something Other than whatever it is we're in. That is hopeful.
I stepped outside tonight after being in a stuffy room and was hit by the crispness of the air and the clarity of the sky. I poised myself on my tiptoes and looked straight up and noticed (albeit too briefly) each star in the sky that was sparkling so bright I could make out the defined edges of each sparkle. Then I turned on my toes getting ready to do a quick spin (because that's what I do when I feel all warm and fuzzy inside) and as I turned my head I noticed the moon.
I work at a missions organization that is very injustice focused. I hear A LOT about injustice. It pains me to say I might be slightly numb to all the pictures of babies with swollen bellies and flies around their heads, but when you see the pictures and hear the stats time and time again, they lose their punch, and I think we can all relate to that. But I've recently learned about the plight of North Korea and it has been sticking with me like no injustice ever has. Ever since I heard a firsthand account from a co-founder of a US North Korean advocacy center, it's been like a splinter in my heart that's continually aching. My heart aches for the North Koreans. And it's for this reason--yes, they're starving, they're cold, they're subjected to forced labor. But what resonates as the greatest injustice of North Korea is this: they are stripped of freedom of thought. They're subjected to mental manipulation and trauma that cannot simply be relieved by giving them food or shelter. It takes years of therapy and counseling to undo the lies that are intentionally planted in the mind of North Koreans by the Kim dynasty. This video is a great glimpse into the life of a North Korean labor camp defector. But pay attention specifically to 34:34-35:21 and you can see that even escaping the worst conditions in the world and living well in society cannot alleviate years of brainwashing and emotional torture.
Watching this video and seeing the weight that Shin will carry the rest of his life, simply because he was born into the country of North Korea, makes me want to kayak the entire Pacific ocean all the way to Kim Jung-Il's palace and take matters and justice into my own hands. Someone STOP this succession of crazed dictators, in the name of Jesus.
The entire crisis just feels hopeless, sometimes.
But tonight, as I was looking at the moon, it was impressed up on my heart that the North Koreans, thousands of miles away, look at the exact same moon that I do. And that may sound cheesy, but think about how cool that is. At night, no matter where I am...I see the same moon, in all it's splendor, as the North Koreans. I found such mutuality with these people I've never met simply from looking at this moon. Sometimes injustice seems so far away, but in looking at the moon, it makes me feel like it's up close. Tangible. It hits me that people in North Korea, in labor camps, starving and eating kernels of corn or bits of grass to stay alive can look up in their desperation and see the beauty of the moon, a chunk of rock floating in space that each of us on planet earth can see...and I wonder if God didn't create it just for that reason--to bring us all to a place of mutuality with one another. Amidst pain, struggle and suffering, when we feel stuck, insignificant and useless, we can see something like the moon and be reminded that the world is big, God is bigger, and there's something Other than whatever it is we're in. That is hopeful.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Is Sentimentality Reliable?
So, if I'm romantic and I'm motherly I would say that probably means I'm also pretty sentimental. I mean if I tear up when I see one of my students, I would say "sentimental" describes that condition pretty well. That or "weep-tastic".
So, ok, I'm sentimental.
I think I can accept that. Maybe even enjoy that. Some of the people I most admire are very sentimental, tearing up at tiny things, getting moved by hallmark commercials...
But I'm not sentimental with everything. Cheesy worship services, I hate. Excessive hugs and 'how-are-you's' make me want to punch people. My sentimentality mostly comes down to relationships. There are some friends in my life that I just love. It's hard for me to be super friendly and loving and sappy with strangers, but once I get to know someone and become fond of them--I love them. Sometimes so much that I almost have to contain myself when I see them. Because otherwise I would be jumping up and down and being squealy and teasing them and poking them and being all around obnoxious.
As someone who tends to see being stoic as being strong (which is NOT true, but I still find myself thinking that way), I notice that I subconsciously define my sentimentality as weakness. Maybe not just weakness, but unreliable feelings that really have no weight or bearing on outcomes. Because sentiment is fleeting. Choices are eternal. Right? I don't know, what's the balance between sentiment and love?
If there's one thing in my life that causes me torture, it's asking too many damn questions. Too many why's. Why's don't matter that much. They matter a little. But I'm watching myself ask why, and I'm watching my students ask why and I'm watching us all think ourselves to death with nothing left but empty hands and disappointment at unanswered questions that never mattered much in the first place. I think what we all really want to know is that we're okay. So I guess when I start asking a bunch of why's about all this, what I really am asking is if all of it is okay. I'm reminded of the verse from Philippians, "He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus." And if I'm romantic, if I'm motherly, if I'm sentimental, if he's placed it in me, then it doesn't matter right now why it's there or the details of how it's being played out. What matters is that, if God is bringing it up now, more than any other time, that I trust Him to finish what he has started--that hopefully I can turn all these lovey-dovey feelings from foreign to familiar. And nurture them and use them to care for others and offer love to those who need it. Maybe these are the first signs of God transforming me in a way I so desperately want him to--moving me from being inward focused to outward. It feels silly and weird and sappy and girly, but...I don't know, I guess I'm cool with it.
So, ok, I'm sentimental.
I think I can accept that. Maybe even enjoy that. Some of the people I most admire are very sentimental, tearing up at tiny things, getting moved by hallmark commercials...
But I'm not sentimental with everything. Cheesy worship services, I hate. Excessive hugs and 'how-are-you's' make me want to punch people. My sentimentality mostly comes down to relationships. There are some friends in my life that I just love. It's hard for me to be super friendly and loving and sappy with strangers, but once I get to know someone and become fond of them--I love them. Sometimes so much that I almost have to contain myself when I see them. Because otherwise I would be jumping up and down and being squealy and teasing them and poking them and being all around obnoxious.
As someone who tends to see being stoic as being strong (which is NOT true, but I still find myself thinking that way), I notice that I subconsciously define my sentimentality as weakness. Maybe not just weakness, but unreliable feelings that really have no weight or bearing on outcomes. Because sentiment is fleeting. Choices are eternal. Right? I don't know, what's the balance between sentiment and love?
If there's one thing in my life that causes me torture, it's asking too many damn questions. Too many why's. Why's don't matter that much. They matter a little. But I'm watching myself ask why, and I'm watching my students ask why and I'm watching us all think ourselves to death with nothing left but empty hands and disappointment at unanswered questions that never mattered much in the first place. I think what we all really want to know is that we're okay. So I guess when I start asking a bunch of why's about all this, what I really am asking is if all of it is okay. I'm reminded of the verse from Philippians, "He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus." And if I'm romantic, if I'm motherly, if I'm sentimental, if he's placed it in me, then it doesn't matter right now why it's there or the details of how it's being played out. What matters is that, if God is bringing it up now, more than any other time, that I trust Him to finish what he has started--that hopefully I can turn all these lovey-dovey feelings from foreign to familiar. And nurture them and use them to care for others and offer love to those who need it. Maybe these are the first signs of God transforming me in a way I so desperately want him to--moving me from being inward focused to outward. It feels silly and weird and sappy and girly, but...I don't know, I guess I'm cool with it.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Mama
What is it with girls and wanting to reject what's naturally in them? I'm talking about femininity. A couple posts ago I wrote about how I'm a romantic and I can't really help it. Today I'm going to talk about how I'm motherly and I can't really help that either.
I'm staffing a DTS right now, which means I'm walking alongside other adolescents, most of them younger than me, who feel they have a call to missions, want to grow more and be discipled in the truths of Christ so they can be more equipped take the Good News to the world. I wanted to staff a DTS because I know that I love seeing transformation. It's one of my favorite things. Watching something or someone go from old to new, dead to alive is fascinating to me and moreso, I love being a part of the process. So walking into this, I knew I would see lots of transformation and it would be great. But I've been surprised lately at how great it's actually been. Like, how much I genuinely love and care about these students. I was expecting to love and care about them obviously, but not this much. I'm noticing silly things like, if I'm walking around on campus and I see one of them waving to me from a distance, my heart leaps a little bit and I get an overwhelming sense of pride for who they are. Or I'll be in class and hear one of them ask our speaker a brilliant question and get teary eyed from how far they've come since day one. Or I'll watch one of them start falling in love with another person and my mother hen feathers will rustle up and I'll just want to protect them from the inevitable hurt and risk that comes with loving someone else.
It's weird.
Another example, the other day we did the ropes course. The ropes course is all about team building and unity. It's all what you make it. If you want to be lousy and reject teamwork, it will be a hard day for you on ropes. But if you hold others above yourself and decide to devote yourself to being a team, the day is everything it possibly could be. And that day, my team.... was SO great. Selfless, sacrificial and serving. Each challenge we went through, I noticed each one of them moving form the mindset of 'individual' to a mindset of 'team', which, if you've experienced the shift of that mindset, is a very powerful thing. The whole time I was just observing them, and my heart was bursting with pride and love for how great they were doing. I didn't care that my feet were throbbing or that my harness was giving me bruises under my butt. I was just silently praising God in my heart that his Holy Spirit has been transforming the hearts of these people, these people that I love dearly, these people that make me so proud.
So, GREAT, now I'm not only a romantic, I'm also a freaking mom.
There goes all my plans for being an independent hard-ass.
Here's some pictures of people in this DTS. Try not to tear up.
I'm staffing a DTS right now, which means I'm walking alongside other adolescents, most of them younger than me, who feel they have a call to missions, want to grow more and be discipled in the truths of Christ so they can be more equipped take the Good News to the world. I wanted to staff a DTS because I know that I love seeing transformation. It's one of my favorite things. Watching something or someone go from old to new, dead to alive is fascinating to me and moreso, I love being a part of the process. So walking into this, I knew I would see lots of transformation and it would be great. But I've been surprised lately at how great it's actually been. Like, how much I genuinely love and care about these students. I was expecting to love and care about them obviously, but not this much. I'm noticing silly things like, if I'm walking around on campus and I see one of them waving to me from a distance, my heart leaps a little bit and I get an overwhelming sense of pride for who they are. Or I'll be in class and hear one of them ask our speaker a brilliant question and get teary eyed from how far they've come since day one. Or I'll watch one of them start falling in love with another person and my mother hen feathers will rustle up and I'll just want to protect them from the inevitable hurt and risk that comes with loving someone else.
It's weird.
Another example, the other day we did the ropes course. The ropes course is all about team building and unity. It's all what you make it. If you want to be lousy and reject teamwork, it will be a hard day for you on ropes. But if you hold others above yourself and decide to devote yourself to being a team, the day is everything it possibly could be. And that day, my team.... was SO great. Selfless, sacrificial and serving. Each challenge we went through, I noticed each one of them moving form the mindset of 'individual' to a mindset of 'team', which, if you've experienced the shift of that mindset, is a very powerful thing. The whole time I was just observing them, and my heart was bursting with pride and love for how great they were doing. I didn't care that my feet were throbbing or that my harness was giving me bruises under my butt. I was just silently praising God in my heart that his Holy Spirit has been transforming the hearts of these people, these people that I love dearly, these people that make me so proud.
So, GREAT, now I'm not only a romantic, I'm also a freaking mom.
There goes all my plans for being an independent hard-ass.
Here's some pictures of people in this DTS. Try not to tear up.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Seven Storey Mountain
"On the last day of January 1915, under the sign of the Water Bearer, in a year of a great war, and down in the shadow of some French mountains on the borders of Spain, I came into the world. Free by nature, in the image of God, I was nevertheless the prisoner of my own violence and my own selfishness, in the image of the world into which I was born. That world was the picture of Hell, full of men like myself, loving God and yet hating Him; born to love Him, living instead in fear and hopeless self-contradictory hungers.
Not many hundreds of miles away from the house where I was born, they were picking up the men who rotted in the rainy ditches among the dead horses and the ruined seventy-fives, in a forest of trees without branches along the river Marne.
My father and mother were captives in that world, knowing they did not belong with it or in it, and yet unable to get away from it. They were in the world and not of it--not because they were saints, but in a different way: because they were artists. The integrity of an artist lifts a man above the level of the world without delivering him from it.
My father painted like Cezanne and understood the southern French landscape the way Cezanne did. His vision of the world was sane, full of balance, full of veneration for structure, for the relations of the masses and for all the circumstances that impres an individual identity on each created thing. His vision was religious and clean, and therefore his paintings were without decorations or superfluous comment, since a religious man respects the power of God's creation to bear witness for itself. My father was a very good artist.
Neither of my parents suffered from the little spooky prejudices that devour the people who know nothing but automobiles and movies and what's in the ice-box and what's in the papers and which neighbors are getting a divorce.
I inherited from my father his way of looking at things and some of his integrity and from my other some of her dissatisfaction with the mess the world is in, and some of her versatility. From both I got capacities for work and vision and enjoyment and expression that ought to have made me some kind of a King, if the standards the world lives by were the real ones. Not that we ever had any money: but any fool knows that you don't need money to get enjoyment out of life.
If what most people take for granted were really true--if all you needed to be happy was to grab everything and see everything and investigate every experience and then talk about, I should have been a very happy person, a spiritual millionaire, from the cradle even until now.
If happiness were merely a matter of natural gifts, I would have never entered a Trappist monastery when I came to the age of a man."
--Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain, pg. 1
Page one, guys. Page ONE. I just got this book in the mail today. There are 400 pages left. YES. Praise God for brilliant minds that choose to write honest things on paper that make the rest of us feel sane.
Not many hundreds of miles away from the house where I was born, they were picking up the men who rotted in the rainy ditches among the dead horses and the ruined seventy-fives, in a forest of trees without branches along the river Marne.
My father and mother were captives in that world, knowing they did not belong with it or in it, and yet unable to get away from it. They were in the world and not of it--not because they were saints, but in a different way: because they were artists. The integrity of an artist lifts a man above the level of the world without delivering him from it.
My father painted like Cezanne and understood the southern French landscape the way Cezanne did. His vision of the world was sane, full of balance, full of veneration for structure, for the relations of the masses and for all the circumstances that impres an individual identity on each created thing. His vision was religious and clean, and therefore his paintings were without decorations or superfluous comment, since a religious man respects the power of God's creation to bear witness for itself. My father was a very good artist.
Neither of my parents suffered from the little spooky prejudices that devour the people who know nothing but automobiles and movies and what's in the ice-box and what's in the papers and which neighbors are getting a divorce.
I inherited from my father his way of looking at things and some of his integrity and from my other some of her dissatisfaction with the mess the world is in, and some of her versatility. From both I got capacities for work and vision and enjoyment and expression that ought to have made me some kind of a King, if the standards the world lives by were the real ones. Not that we ever had any money: but any fool knows that you don't need money to get enjoyment out of life.
If what most people take for granted were really true--if all you needed to be happy was to grab everything and see everything and investigate every experience and then talk about, I should have been a very happy person, a spiritual millionaire, from the cradle even until now.
If happiness were merely a matter of natural gifts, I would have never entered a Trappist monastery when I came to the age of a man."
--Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain, pg. 1
Page one, guys. Page ONE. I just got this book in the mail today. There are 400 pages left. YES. Praise God for brilliant minds that choose to write honest things on paper that make the rest of us feel sane.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Call me Audrey, please.
I'm a romantic. I'm just beginning to realize it. Probably because I've subconsciously suppressed it for years. Because when you're a girl and you're romantic, it means you're dependent and needy. And the last thing a girl ever wants to be seen as is dependent and needy. So, of course when I find myself getting butterflies when a certain man walks in the room or when I catch myself daydreaming of being swept off my feet, my knee jerk reaction is to shut it off and remind myself that fantasies are just that, and not reality. And that I'd better stop thinking something like that is going to happen, because it's not. And if it does, it will be short lived.
Anyway, I've changed my mind. I think I'm going to start nurturing my romantic nature. Not in a lustful or manipulative way...but in a way that honors the fact that I'm a woman. And honestly, my mind isn't just geared toward romance between two people. I desire romance in everything I pursue. A romantic career, romantic relationships, a romantic life. I think that's okay. I think it's okay to realize that imagination and adventure and relationships are all things that make the heart come alive and as long as we're not using it for vanity or selfish gain, then romance is one of God's most beautiful gifts.
I think I'll start writing poems. I think I'll read more poems. I think I'll read ones by Sappho, Rumi, John Donne and David the Psalmist. I'll listen to Jeff Buckley and Damien Rice. I'll wear dresses and I'll bat my eyelashes. And maybe when I like I guy, I'll make it known. Classily, of course.
Anyway, I've changed my mind. I think I'm going to start nurturing my romantic nature. Not in a lustful or manipulative way...but in a way that honors the fact that I'm a woman. And honestly, my mind isn't just geared toward romance between two people. I desire romance in everything I pursue. A romantic career, romantic relationships, a romantic life. I think that's okay. I think it's okay to realize that imagination and adventure and relationships are all things that make the heart come alive and as long as we're not using it for vanity or selfish gain, then romance is one of God's most beautiful gifts.
I think I'll start writing poems. I think I'll read more poems. I think I'll read ones by Sappho, Rumi, John Donne and David the Psalmist. I'll listen to Jeff Buckley and Damien Rice. I'll wear dresses and I'll bat my eyelashes. And maybe when I like I guy, I'll make it known. Classily, of course.
Friday, May 20, 2011
The Monastery--After The Fact
It's been a couple of weeks since I returned from my weekend at Mt. Angel. I don't want to turn the experience in to some spiritual high that I'm trying to clutch and grab onto for as long as possible, but as I read over my journal entries from that weekend, I have to say that a chord strikes in my heart and I feel the pull towards contemplation tugging yet again. I feel a slight lift in my spirit and flutter in my soul thinking about the raw beauty of solitude with God. Obviously, I haven't been able to get time like that with God back here at the YWAM campus. But I've noticed that some revelations from that weekend have definitely translated into my day-to-day here, which I think is really important, and tells that the experience wasn't just hype.
For one, I don't find myself resenting corporate prayer and worship anymore. Before the weekend at the monastery, I could pinpoint numerous times when simply being in worship or intercession with other Christians made me so furious I would run out of the event and go to my house, slam the door and scream cry into my pillow for an hour. I could never figure out why praying and worshiping, things that are supposed to be deep times of communion with God, would make me so damned pissed. But in the silence at the monastery I noticed that in corporate worship times, I wasn't seeking God for God's sake. I was seeking a vision, a picture, a word, anything to share with everyone else in the room to prove that I "hear God". Not only that, but I was definitely testing my own ability to twist his arm--to see how much I would whine and strive until I got him to do what I wanted. Of course you never realize these things until you are able to step outside of things and take a good hard look at yourself. God definitely helped me do that. Now when I'm in worship or prayer I take comfort in the fact that it has nothing to do with me. All worship and prayer is about is bowing my head and honoring a God a thousand times bigger than myself. It's about sitting in the wonder of the fact that I'll never be able to control any part of who He is. I'm helpless in taming him. And just to clarify, this isn't sappy sentiment I'm talking about--I'm not sitting wide-eyed, with warm fuzzies about God (although there's a place for that). I'm talking about a deep peace and sense of humility, knowing that I am tiny and God is HUGE. That simple fact of knowing that it's useless for me to manipulate God or back him into a corner, melts my rage. Thank God.
Secondly, my bible has also shifted from being a source of resentment to a source of life and refuge. I want to read my bible. Because it's not about me. It's not about what I can get from it. Yeah, that's a perk. But it's just a perk. The Bible is about learning about the biggest most beautiful most complicated neverending never able to understand thing in the whole universe--God. And something about picking up this Bible freakishly gives me life in a way nothing else does. It honestly freaks me out sometimes, because I can't explain what it does in my soul. It shifts things. It hasn't been like that for a while and I think the shift is this--lifting my gaze from my navel, to God himself. He's so much cooler than me.
Again, thank God.
For one, I don't find myself resenting corporate prayer and worship anymore. Before the weekend at the monastery, I could pinpoint numerous times when simply being in worship or intercession with other Christians made me so furious I would run out of the event and go to my house, slam the door and scream cry into my pillow for an hour. I could never figure out why praying and worshiping, things that are supposed to be deep times of communion with God, would make me so damned pissed. But in the silence at the monastery I noticed that in corporate worship times, I wasn't seeking God for God's sake. I was seeking a vision, a picture, a word, anything to share with everyone else in the room to prove that I "hear God". Not only that, but I was definitely testing my own ability to twist his arm--to see how much I would whine and strive until I got him to do what I wanted. Of course you never realize these things until you are able to step outside of things and take a good hard look at yourself. God definitely helped me do that. Now when I'm in worship or prayer I take comfort in the fact that it has nothing to do with me. All worship and prayer is about is bowing my head and honoring a God a thousand times bigger than myself. It's about sitting in the wonder of the fact that I'll never be able to control any part of who He is. I'm helpless in taming him. And just to clarify, this isn't sappy sentiment I'm talking about--I'm not sitting wide-eyed, with warm fuzzies about God (although there's a place for that). I'm talking about a deep peace and sense of humility, knowing that I am tiny and God is HUGE. That simple fact of knowing that it's useless for me to manipulate God or back him into a corner, melts my rage. Thank God.
Secondly, my bible has also shifted from being a source of resentment to a source of life and refuge. I want to read my bible. Because it's not about me. It's not about what I can get from it. Yeah, that's a perk. But it's just a perk. The Bible is about learning about the biggest most beautiful most complicated neverending never able to understand thing in the whole universe--God. And something about picking up this Bible freakishly gives me life in a way nothing else does. It honestly freaks me out sometimes, because I can't explain what it does in my soul. It shifts things. It hasn't been like that for a while and I think the shift is this--lifting my gaze from my navel, to God himself. He's so much cooler than me.
Again, thank God.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Addiction--The Monster Becomes A Child
In terms of addiction (and probably any uncontrollable repetitive behavior), I've come to this conclusion about things.
You can ask the 'why' about the behavior. You can trace back years and years and maybe even find the cause. But that really doesn't fix anything.
You can fill your mirror and notebooks with sticky notes full of encouraging quotes and scripture verses. But that really gets you nowhere at the end of the day.
You can blame your circumstances for your behavior and claim that if only things were different, the behavior would change. But then you change jobs or move towns and you're still you.
So, my conclusion is this. The details of why your addiction is there is irrelevant. Helpful in seeing the big picture, maybe. But as far as fixing things--irrelevant. The reality is that a serious of circumstances have brought you were you are, and all you can do is take ownership for the fact that you now have an addiction. Now, the only person who can fix it is you. It's your choice to take it in your hands, with the grace you know God has bestowed upon you, and make day by day choices that turn your addiction from something that controls you into something that you control.
It's not about who or what caused it. It's not even about the substance itself. It's about you owning your life. When this revelation hits the heart of an addict, it's powerful. Because striving after finding the right 'remedy' ceases. It's no longer the right step-by-step plan, the right key to unlocking your past or anything like that--it's your choices. Your present choices. Which way are you going to take them? Your next chance to decide will probably be in the next 5 minutes. May God help me and us to make the right one. I think He's the only one who can. It's weird when you realize that nothing in you is able to make the right choice...but suddenly, after desperate supplication to an invisible God and meditation on scripture your soul suddenly has the power to say no to the things that have so easily wooed it once before. The Holy Spirit transforms, heals and helps. But...doesn't move our mountains for us. He, like a gentlemen, still leaves everything in our hands, but offers a gentle whispering in our ears of guidance and hope. Beautiful, huh?
"You are the mother
the mother of your baby child
the one to whom you gave life
and you have your choices
and these are what make man great
his ladder to the stars"
--Timshel, Mumford & Sons
You can ask the 'why' about the behavior. You can trace back years and years and maybe even find the cause. But that really doesn't fix anything.
You can fill your mirror and notebooks with sticky notes full of encouraging quotes and scripture verses. But that really gets you nowhere at the end of the day.
You can blame your circumstances for your behavior and claim that if only things were different, the behavior would change. But then you change jobs or move towns and you're still you.
So, my conclusion is this. The details of why your addiction is there is irrelevant. Helpful in seeing the big picture, maybe. But as far as fixing things--irrelevant. The reality is that a serious of circumstances have brought you were you are, and all you can do is take ownership for the fact that you now have an addiction. Now, the only person who can fix it is you. It's your choice to take it in your hands, with the grace you know God has bestowed upon you, and make day by day choices that turn your addiction from something that controls you into something that you control.
It's not about who or what caused it. It's not even about the substance itself. It's about you owning your life. When this revelation hits the heart of an addict, it's powerful. Because striving after finding the right 'remedy' ceases. It's no longer the right step-by-step plan, the right key to unlocking your past or anything like that--it's your choices. Your present choices. Which way are you going to take them? Your next chance to decide will probably be in the next 5 minutes. May God help me and us to make the right one. I think He's the only one who can. It's weird when you realize that nothing in you is able to make the right choice...but suddenly, after desperate supplication to an invisible God and meditation on scripture your soul suddenly has the power to say no to the things that have so easily wooed it once before. The Holy Spirit transforms, heals and helps. But...doesn't move our mountains for us. He, like a gentlemen, still leaves everything in our hands, but offers a gentle whispering in our ears of guidance and hope. Beautiful, huh?
"You are the mother
the mother of your baby child
the one to whom you gave life
and you have your choices
and these are what make man great
his ladder to the stars"
--Timshel, Mumford & Sons
Get Thee to a Nunnery
This weekend I spent three days at the Benedictine Sisters Monastery in Mt. Angel. I've been trying to succeed on a Daniel fast (raw food) for the past few months and have failed repeatedly, so last week Phil Gazely suggested I take a personal retreat to a monastery to get in tune with God and give it another go. If you know me, you know I'm slightly obsessed with monasticism, so of course the idea of spending three days in a monastery amidst sounds of a perfectly pitched compline choir sounded like a fantastic escape.
I learned a LOT this weekend, most of it having little to do with fasting, ironically. Also, it was uncomfortable. Really. The whole experience was nothing like I expected. It was unsettling sitting around with so much time on my hands in so much quiet. It took all of me not to bolt out the door every hour on the hour. Instead I tried to intentionally sit with my discomfort and learn all I could in the tension of silence.
I'll pull out a few highlights from my journal for you guys. Feel free to ask me more about it. Also, it's pretty long and most of you won't have the patience to read it, but patience is what most of it is about, so read on.
On the Friday before I left, Phil gave me a verse that he felt was from God for me. It was Exodus 14:14. "The Lord will fight for you; you need only be still."
5/6/11
"So much is running through my head. I went to prayer with the sisters in a beautiful chapel overlooking the greenery of their grounds. It was rainy outside, the kind of rain that is being interrupted by little bursts of sunshine. Inside we were praying and singing hymns, hymns that I'm sure the sisters have read a thousand times. But the cold, ritualistic feel of prayers were contrasted by the warmth in the eyes of each one of the nuns. It sounds cheesy, but it's true. Each one has greeted me with a kind smile and an extended hand.
"I have SO much time on my hands. I feel like I could commit to anything and talk to anyone right now because I'm not restricted by schedules and to-do's. I hopped in the shower after watching a VHS in their vintage library on Thomas Merton (which was incredible) and it hit me (yet again)--rushing and busyness and excessive entertainment are truly wastes of a life. I've learned more in the last four hours of being here in stillness than I have in three months! I've been bombarded with concepts and information the last few months, tons of great ones, but nothing has soaked in or transformed me--and that's what's been so frustrating. Revelation is abundant in the environment I live in, which is good, but it's almost turned into an instant gratification type of thing, where I grab onto a 'good idea' but a few months later I'm left with zero transformation. Not to mention the fact that everything is so busy. There's never enough time to tune in and seek after transformation. Our lives are noisy and we glorify busyness. It's disgusting, really. What am I making of my life by trading true relationship or silence with busyness? To get meaningless crap accomplished, crap that has zero impact on the greater world around me? To what end is my busyness? Nothing. Loneliness, if anything. It leaves me empty handed. I want to live without busyness and stuff. But the busyness and stuff is so freaking enticing. Busyness equates productivity in our culture and I think that's such a lie. If anything, it's a huge distraction. Busyness drowns out the irritating cries of my soul for depth and vitality that do not come easily in this shallow age we live in . Stuff: food, entertainment, spending--it passes time and distracts me from my soul, whose cries I've been diminishing in value, but are only becoming more urgent as the days progress. I can't shut up the cries of my heart anymore--it creaks and groans like a piece of wood buckling under too much weight. What will hydrate it again?
5/6/11--[an entry regarding gluttony] "...I think that's this fast is for--to break the chains of gluttony and sloth. What happens when I weed out the main source of overconsumption in my life? Overconsumption ceases. So does rushing and busyness--rushing to stuff food in my mouth or frantically grab the last bit of food with my hands. My tunnel vision toward food is shut off. Slownesss rushes in to fill it's place. Settledness, the sense of time. No longer am I frantic, I'm calm. No longer am I afraid of not getting filled, for I am filled by being underfilled. An interesting paradox. "
5/7/11--"I met someone today. An old dude. Today I met Sid. He creeped me out at first, because his eyes would kind of glaze over when he spoke and he dramatically shift his weight from side to side. I didn't know why he acted that way until he started sharing more about his story. He introduced himself to me by asking if I'd been to the monastery before. I said no. He said he had, six times now, that he comes once a year. Then he got into why. Apparently, when he was eighteen, he got in a car accident. He hit the side of a bridge, wasn't wearing his seat belt and was launched through the windshield, skidding across rocks down a hill. As he was telling the story he kept saying, '...and I went out of my body'. I kept wondering what he meant, so I finally interrupted him to ask and he said, 'Oh, into the light. The tunnel." At this point I wondered if I was talking to a crazy. But he started telling me how he was suspended in light and felt nothing but sense of being pulled three directions--toward Good, toward Evil, and toward himself, back to Earth. He went back, obviously, out of his choice, I don't know. But he went on to tell me that due to that experience he had a myriad of questions about faith and God, so he made the choice to go to seminary--he said it just made things worse and things were still pretty unresolved. Well, twenty years later at thirty-eight, he gets married. He said that's when everything 'exploded'. He hit a wall of depression, hopelessness and despair. He didn't know why it hit at that time, that time that was supposed to be the most fulfilling time in our lives--when we marry another person. Instead of running from the marriage, him and his wife spent years together in counseling trying to work things through. He said it's been a process, and he's only now beginning to understand the questions he had back when he was eighteen. Now when he comes to Mt. Angel, he keeps in mind the meditation practices he's learned, but he lets whatever happens, happen. He doesn't judge any of it. He just lets it be. He said God's speaking theree things to him already, "In Him, with him, as him." He said he keeps hearing it, over and over and he's just going with the flow for now. He had some really profound things to say, actually and was a very sharp, very deep man. Although his shifty mannerisms made me think otherwise, at first. After he shared his story, he asked me about mine. I told him a bit, about what I'm working through. A lot of it was similar to what he said he was going through. He said I'm in a good place now, working all of this out so young because i'm getting a strong foundation. Which I hear a lot. But makes me wonder...when is this kind of 'crisis' supposed to happen? When you're twenty-five or when you're fifty? It tends to be either one of those age ranges, I've noticed. I asked myself, as far as life lessons, am I exceptional and and he's behind? Or am I too early and he's on time? Or are we both just okay where we're at? Probably the latter."
5/8/11--"My attention span is horrific. My mind has probably wandered to fifteen different places just while reading one chapter of Romans. This will take practice, this slowness thing. This meditative life. I live in a time where I can be entertained by anything, anytime of day, it's at my fingertips no matter where I am. The mark of a peculiar people in this generation will be those who can sit in silence and be okay. Those who can leave their smart phones at home and not have their brain short circuit. Those who reject busyness and say no to noise even it if means others will call them lazy, narcissistic, anti-social or unproductive. Will we take our 'busyness', rushing and to-do lists to the grave? No. When you're dead "you don't take nothing with you but your soul," as John Lennon sang. And our souls thrive on depth, relationship and wonder at simplicity and things not made by man. Oh, God, help me to be a person of slowness. And may your word be my greatest escape."
5/8/11--"I took a walk through the cemetery earlier. I was just walking and thinking/praying. As I was praying, I began to repent. Nothing super heavy or anything like that, but still things of importance. I repented of something that surprised me. When you take walks outside, you're kind of hit in the face with how big God is. How untameable and wild. And I realized that my Christian life consists of whining that God isn't at my fingertips every time I pray--that I'm not 'hearing him' that I'm not getting a word for someone, that I'm not getting some type of vision. God is bigger than those things. And he's not going to show up whenever I snap my arrogant fingers. I prayed he would reshape my thinking to that of worshiping and praying as an act of submitting to him, not as an act of getting something out of him. Most saints and contemplatives had quiet times consisting of silence and slow meditation--not weeping and demanding and striving. Although emotions have their place, they're not the essence of prayer, or the essence of God. He is a God worthy of honor and worthy of us waiting on him. To think he has to show up every time we do something spiritual is so naive. I prayed he would turn my relationship with him into a silent union with Him. Not an experience."
I learned a lot while I was there and wondered at even more. Such as: are some monks avoiding intimacy by choosing to take the vows of an order? How many Catholics will go to heaven as Christians see it? Catholics pray to Saints, and I also see monks pulling from Zen thought and other types of religions--Am I worshiping the same God they are? Am I called to a contemplative life? If I'm not called to a monastery, how can I cultivate a contemplative life in my day-to-day? How can I make the Eucharist more sacred? How can I get my hands on every Thomas Merton, St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila and St. Francis of Assisi book ever written? And on and on.
Being at the monastery made feel intellectually at home. I can't wait to go again.
I learned a LOT this weekend, most of it having little to do with fasting, ironically. Also, it was uncomfortable. Really. The whole experience was nothing like I expected. It was unsettling sitting around with so much time on my hands in so much quiet. It took all of me not to bolt out the door every hour on the hour. Instead I tried to intentionally sit with my discomfort and learn all I could in the tension of silence.
I'll pull out a few highlights from my journal for you guys. Feel free to ask me more about it. Also, it's pretty long and most of you won't have the patience to read it, but patience is what most of it is about, so read on.
On the Friday before I left, Phil gave me a verse that he felt was from God for me. It was Exodus 14:14. "The Lord will fight for you; you need only be still."
5/6/11
"So much is running through my head. I went to prayer with the sisters in a beautiful chapel overlooking the greenery of their grounds. It was rainy outside, the kind of rain that is being interrupted by little bursts of sunshine. Inside we were praying and singing hymns, hymns that I'm sure the sisters have read a thousand times. But the cold, ritualistic feel of prayers were contrasted by the warmth in the eyes of each one of the nuns. It sounds cheesy, but it's true. Each one has greeted me with a kind smile and an extended hand.
"I have SO much time on my hands. I feel like I could commit to anything and talk to anyone right now because I'm not restricted by schedules and to-do's. I hopped in the shower after watching a VHS in their vintage library on Thomas Merton (which was incredible) and it hit me (yet again)--rushing and busyness and excessive entertainment are truly wastes of a life. I've learned more in the last four hours of being here in stillness than I have in three months! I've been bombarded with concepts and information the last few months, tons of great ones, but nothing has soaked in or transformed me--and that's what's been so frustrating. Revelation is abundant in the environment I live in, which is good, but it's almost turned into an instant gratification type of thing, where I grab onto a 'good idea' but a few months later I'm left with zero transformation. Not to mention the fact that everything is so busy. There's never enough time to tune in and seek after transformation. Our lives are noisy and we glorify busyness. It's disgusting, really. What am I making of my life by trading true relationship or silence with busyness? To get meaningless crap accomplished, crap that has zero impact on the greater world around me? To what end is my busyness? Nothing. Loneliness, if anything. It leaves me empty handed. I want to live without busyness and stuff. But the busyness and stuff is so freaking enticing. Busyness equates productivity in our culture and I think that's such a lie. If anything, it's a huge distraction. Busyness drowns out the irritating cries of my soul for depth and vitality that do not come easily in this shallow age we live in . Stuff: food, entertainment, spending--it passes time and distracts me from my soul, whose cries I've been diminishing in value, but are only becoming more urgent as the days progress. I can't shut up the cries of my heart anymore--it creaks and groans like a piece of wood buckling under too much weight. What will hydrate it again?
5/6/11--[an entry regarding gluttony] "...I think that's this fast is for--to break the chains of gluttony and sloth. What happens when I weed out the main source of overconsumption in my life? Overconsumption ceases. So does rushing and busyness--rushing to stuff food in my mouth or frantically grab the last bit of food with my hands. My tunnel vision toward food is shut off. Slownesss rushes in to fill it's place. Settledness, the sense of time. No longer am I frantic, I'm calm. No longer am I afraid of not getting filled, for I am filled by being underfilled. An interesting paradox. "
5/7/11--"I met someone today. An old dude. Today I met Sid. He creeped me out at first, because his eyes would kind of glaze over when he spoke and he dramatically shift his weight from side to side. I didn't know why he acted that way until he started sharing more about his story. He introduced himself to me by asking if I'd been to the monastery before. I said no. He said he had, six times now, that he comes once a year. Then he got into why. Apparently, when he was eighteen, he got in a car accident. He hit the side of a bridge, wasn't wearing his seat belt and was launched through the windshield, skidding across rocks down a hill. As he was telling the story he kept saying, '...and I went out of my body'. I kept wondering what he meant, so I finally interrupted him to ask and he said, 'Oh, into the light. The tunnel." At this point I wondered if I was talking to a crazy. But he started telling me how he was suspended in light and felt nothing but sense of being pulled three directions--toward Good, toward Evil, and toward himself, back to Earth. He went back, obviously, out of his choice, I don't know. But he went on to tell me that due to that experience he had a myriad of questions about faith and God, so he made the choice to go to seminary--he said it just made things worse and things were still pretty unresolved. Well, twenty years later at thirty-eight, he gets married. He said that's when everything 'exploded'. He hit a wall of depression, hopelessness and despair. He didn't know why it hit at that time, that time that was supposed to be the most fulfilling time in our lives--when we marry another person. Instead of running from the marriage, him and his wife spent years together in counseling trying to work things through. He said it's been a process, and he's only now beginning to understand the questions he had back when he was eighteen. Now when he comes to Mt. Angel, he keeps in mind the meditation practices he's learned, but he lets whatever happens, happen. He doesn't judge any of it. He just lets it be. He said God's speaking theree things to him already, "In Him, with him, as him." He said he keeps hearing it, over and over and he's just going with the flow for now. He had some really profound things to say, actually and was a very sharp, very deep man. Although his shifty mannerisms made me think otherwise, at first. After he shared his story, he asked me about mine. I told him a bit, about what I'm working through. A lot of it was similar to what he said he was going through. He said I'm in a good place now, working all of this out so young because i'm getting a strong foundation. Which I hear a lot. But makes me wonder...when is this kind of 'crisis' supposed to happen? When you're twenty-five or when you're fifty? It tends to be either one of those age ranges, I've noticed. I asked myself, as far as life lessons, am I exceptional and and he's behind? Or am I too early and he's on time? Or are we both just okay where we're at? Probably the latter."
5/8/11--"My attention span is horrific. My mind has probably wandered to fifteen different places just while reading one chapter of Romans. This will take practice, this slowness thing. This meditative life. I live in a time where I can be entertained by anything, anytime of day, it's at my fingertips no matter where I am. The mark of a peculiar people in this generation will be those who can sit in silence and be okay. Those who can leave their smart phones at home and not have their brain short circuit. Those who reject busyness and say no to noise even it if means others will call them lazy, narcissistic, anti-social or unproductive. Will we take our 'busyness', rushing and to-do lists to the grave? No. When you're dead "you don't take nothing with you but your soul," as John Lennon sang. And our souls thrive on depth, relationship and wonder at simplicity and things not made by man. Oh, God, help me to be a person of slowness. And may your word be my greatest escape."
5/8/11--"I took a walk through the cemetery earlier. I was just walking and thinking/praying. As I was praying, I began to repent. Nothing super heavy or anything like that, but still things of importance. I repented of something that surprised me. When you take walks outside, you're kind of hit in the face with how big God is. How untameable and wild. And I realized that my Christian life consists of whining that God isn't at my fingertips every time I pray--that I'm not 'hearing him' that I'm not getting a word for someone, that I'm not getting some type of vision. God is bigger than those things. And he's not going to show up whenever I snap my arrogant fingers. I prayed he would reshape my thinking to that of worshiping and praying as an act of submitting to him, not as an act of getting something out of him. Most saints and contemplatives had quiet times consisting of silence and slow meditation--not weeping and demanding and striving. Although emotions have their place, they're not the essence of prayer, or the essence of God. He is a God worthy of honor and worthy of us waiting on him. To think he has to show up every time we do something spiritual is so naive. I prayed he would turn my relationship with him into a silent union with Him. Not an experience."
I learned a lot while I was there and wondered at even more. Such as: are some monks avoiding intimacy by choosing to take the vows of an order? How many Catholics will go to heaven as Christians see it? Catholics pray to Saints, and I also see monks pulling from Zen thought and other types of religions--Am I worshiping the same God they are? Am I called to a contemplative life? If I'm not called to a monastery, how can I cultivate a contemplative life in my day-to-day? How can I make the Eucharist more sacred? How can I get my hands on every Thomas Merton, St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila and St. Francis of Assisi book ever written? And on and on.
Being at the monastery made feel intellectually at home. I can't wait to go again.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Day #10--A Man After My Own Heart
Today I got the pleasure of having lunch with Phil Gazley, a man after my own heart. Normally, I tend to be super shy around teachers or people of authority, but I'm getting over it and learning to approach them. Because being in YWAM, we have incredible minds coming through here on a weekly basis, specifically to share their knowledge with new missionaries, and for me to not get to know them is, honestly, a huge waste.
So, that being said, today after class I asked Phil if we could talk and he said yes, he'd love to. We went through the lunch line and sat down with our food. We spent the next hour talking about fasting, the holy spirit, monasticism, solitude, acedia, our generations paralysis from information over-load and much more. I was sitting there across from him with a plate full of food, fork in one hand and chin resting on the other, soaking up everything he was saying and it was like he was spoon-feeding my soul. I didn't even want the food in front of me, which basically never happens. So that's pretty telling of how great the conversation was. I definitely don't mean to over-glorify him--but I do want to point out that it was so nice being understood and being able to talk with someone about things that make my soul tick. I cant tell you how many times I try to talk to people about monasticism and i can literally see it going in one ear and out the other. In my opinion, monasticism and the ancient practices are key to understanding God, so it's sad for me to see so many people disinterested in it.
Anyway, while we were talking I asked him about this fast. I told him I know I feel a deep call from God to do a serious long term fast, but I've tried at least 5 times in the last few months and fail after about 3 days. I asked him what that meant or if he knew of any secret tips that help in sticking out a fast or if it might have to do with acedia. He pointed out something interesting. He reminded me that I live in a community. A community bustling with people, food and coffee around every corner. to-do lists, texting, internet and distractions abundant. He wondered if I'm getting off on the wrong foot, starting out with zeal, but burning out because of a lack of foundation (which very well could be the truth--the amount of time I've spent in prayer these past days has NOT been sufficient, even for normal routine, let alone a fast). He said I'm probably beating myself up for failing (yes) but I might just be failing for reasons as simple as being distracted. So, he suggested that if I really feel I need to fast, that I take some time away in solitude for a few days to get through the rough part and to get centered with God-- without distractions, without to-do lists. He mentioned that monastaries provide great environments for personal retreats and things of that nature. So today I researched monastaries in the Salem area and found one in a town about 15 minutes away from here, nestled in the mountains. I called them today, asked if I could come and they said yes. It was surprisingly easy. So, I'm headed there for the weekend, to give this fast another go. Hopefully God will speak some things to me about this fast, and the myriad of things connected with it. Then hopefully, I can begin to find healing and finally turn my gaze from inward to outward--I feel so inward these days I feel like I'm imploding. But my problem has been that I feel so wretched inside I literally can't turn my gaze outward. It's a terrible place to be. Anyway, I'm sure I'll get more clarity on that soon.
So, the fast is on a slight pause until Friday. I'll start again, head to the monastary for a few days and pick up the blogging when I return, unless God says otherwise. I will talk to you guys then.
P.S. Thanks for reading.
So, that being said, today after class I asked Phil if we could talk and he said yes, he'd love to. We went through the lunch line and sat down with our food. We spent the next hour talking about fasting, the holy spirit, monasticism, solitude, acedia, our generations paralysis from information over-load and much more. I was sitting there across from him with a plate full of food, fork in one hand and chin resting on the other, soaking up everything he was saying and it was like he was spoon-feeding my soul. I didn't even want the food in front of me, which basically never happens. So that's pretty telling of how great the conversation was. I definitely don't mean to over-glorify him--but I do want to point out that it was so nice being understood and being able to talk with someone about things that make my soul tick. I cant tell you how many times I try to talk to people about monasticism and i can literally see it going in one ear and out the other. In my opinion, monasticism and the ancient practices are key to understanding God, so it's sad for me to see so many people disinterested in it.
Anyway, while we were talking I asked him about this fast. I told him I know I feel a deep call from God to do a serious long term fast, but I've tried at least 5 times in the last few months and fail after about 3 days. I asked him what that meant or if he knew of any secret tips that help in sticking out a fast or if it might have to do with acedia. He pointed out something interesting. He reminded me that I live in a community. A community bustling with people, food and coffee around every corner. to-do lists, texting, internet and distractions abundant. He wondered if I'm getting off on the wrong foot, starting out with zeal, but burning out because of a lack of foundation (which very well could be the truth--the amount of time I've spent in prayer these past days has NOT been sufficient, even for normal routine, let alone a fast). He said I'm probably beating myself up for failing (yes) but I might just be failing for reasons as simple as being distracted. So, he suggested that if I really feel I need to fast, that I take some time away in solitude for a few days to get through the rough part and to get centered with God-- without distractions, without to-do lists. He mentioned that monastaries provide great environments for personal retreats and things of that nature. So today I researched monastaries in the Salem area and found one in a town about 15 minutes away from here, nestled in the mountains. I called them today, asked if I could come and they said yes. It was surprisingly easy. So, I'm headed there for the weekend, to give this fast another go. Hopefully God will speak some things to me about this fast, and the myriad of things connected with it. Then hopefully, I can begin to find healing and finally turn my gaze from inward to outward--I feel so inward these days I feel like I'm imploding. But my problem has been that I feel so wretched inside I literally can't turn my gaze outward. It's a terrible place to be. Anyway, I'm sure I'll get more clarity on that soon.
So, the fast is on a slight pause until Friday. I'll start again, head to the monastary for a few days and pick up the blogging when I return, unless God says otherwise. I will talk to you guys then.
P.S. Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Day #9--Lighthearted
Today I ate lots of fruit. Probably half of all my food today was fruit. Today was easy. And delicious.
Also, Phil Gazely told me that he knew Marcus Mumford when he was a fumbling worship leader for his dad's Vineyard church in England. "Now I see him playing on the Grammy's with Bob Dylan and I'm like...huh."
Also, Phil Gazely told me that he knew Marcus Mumford when he was a fumbling worship leader for his dad's Vineyard church in England. "Now I see him playing on the Grammy's with Bob Dylan and I'm like...huh."
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Day #8--Recharge
Today was insanely beautiful. There wasn't a cloud in the sky except for a few contrails, which was a huge refreshment considering there's heavy cloud cover over Salem, Oregon seven days a week during the winter. But...spring is slowly creepin' in. I hung out in the grass with my pals all day. It was awesome.
I also got to read more of Acedia & Me. It's comforting when someone writes a book that's your heart in paperback form. Also, this week Phil Gazely, the human trafficking activist and speaker on all things Holy Spirit is speaking at YWAM Salem. He was the one that offhandedly mentioned the book to our community last time he was here, because it tied in to his speaking topic that night. So I'm hoping to catch him sometime this week and see if we can talk a little more in depth about this complicated concept. But, one thing I don't want to do is start finding security in a label. I don't want to start blaming every negative thing, failure, disappointment or thing I don't like about myself on acedia. That would be stupid. So I'm hoping I can glean some wisdom from him and maybe some practical acedia fighters. He's a mighty man who's experienced much, and even if I don't get any practical tips out of him, I'm sure just being a conversation with him, about anything, will widen my perspective to something bigger than my silly self.
So, in closing, I got TONS of sunshine today, which I consider to be raw food. A+.
I also got to read more of Acedia & Me. It's comforting when someone writes a book that's your heart in paperback form. Also, this week Phil Gazely, the human trafficking activist and speaker on all things Holy Spirit is speaking at YWAM Salem. He was the one that offhandedly mentioned the book to our community last time he was here, because it tied in to his speaking topic that night. So I'm hoping to catch him sometime this week and see if we can talk a little more in depth about this complicated concept. But, one thing I don't want to do is start finding security in a label. I don't want to start blaming every negative thing, failure, disappointment or thing I don't like about myself on acedia. That would be stupid. So I'm hoping I can glean some wisdom from him and maybe some practical acedia fighters. He's a mighty man who's experienced much, and even if I don't get any practical tips out of him, I'm sure just being a conversation with him, about anything, will widen my perspective to something bigger than my silly self.
So, in closing, I got TONS of sunshine today, which I consider to be raw food. A+.
Day #7--The Demon Acedia
Fail #2.
And it's only been one week.
What's funny is, I've tried diets/fasts like this probably at least 100 times. And can never follow through. Ever. Consistency has always been completely out of my reach. I've tried accountability, food charts, alarm clock reminders, everything. What's keeping me from wanting to pursue the best for myself? I can't constrict this to simply food. This trend is everywhere in my life. I don't think there's one thing I do regularly, without fail. Except the things I don't want to do.
Usually, when I fail in a commitment like this, I fight it by motivating myself again towards deeper legalism: restricting myself more, making stricter schedules, putting notes up everywhere to remind myself of the goal. A few days go by where I'm super pumped, but those days are soon followed by a crash, and I go back to square one.
This is more complicated than a lack of self-control. Somewhere in my life there is a disconnect.
Yesterday I stumbled upon Gregory Boyd's website, and there's a Q&A section filled with the most common questions he gets from readers. Here's Gregory Boyd's response to a question from a man asking Gregory why God created him with an uncontrollable sex drive.
"The challenge is not to suppress your sex drive – which you’d probably have little success at doing anyway. The challenge, rather, is to make God the highest priority of your life. Seek first the Kingdom, Jesus said (Mt 6:33). You’ll find that the more you pour yourself into being a disciple of Jesus, the more power you’ll have over your sex drive."
Okay. Being a disciple of Christ brings about the fruits of the spirit, one of those being self-control. So, if you're a Christian, and you're struggling with self-control, the answer is, be devoted to Christ.
But, what if the very thought of being a disciple makes you shrug your shoulders?
Being very candid, that's where I'm at. I feel like my life is one big yawn. It's not that things are boring--it's that I just don't care. I feel like I have to make myself care about anything. This isn't depression and it's not laziness. And this isn't a symptom of some wound. It's not some misconception of God I have. Not this time. This is something that's rooted itself into my whole being. I can feel it. It's this perpetual apathy in everything and lack of strength to uproot it. I'm scrambling around trying to fight it with more and more commitments and schedules, but all that's doing is showing me that nothing inside of me will comply. And all I'm saying is, if Satan has a best way of making a Christian ineffective, it's this. Because you're not wounded and on your way to healing, you're not depressed and working through pain, you're sitting in the middle of an amazing, bustling life with your arms folded, picking at your nails wondering when it will all be finished.
I'm at a loss, honestly. I guess I need prayer. And I'm not giving up, day #8 will still come tomorrow.
And it's only been one week.
What's funny is, I've tried diets/fasts like this probably at least 100 times. And can never follow through. Ever. Consistency has always been completely out of my reach. I've tried accountability, food charts, alarm clock reminders, everything. What's keeping me from wanting to pursue the best for myself? I can't constrict this to simply food. This trend is everywhere in my life. I don't think there's one thing I do regularly, without fail. Except the things I don't want to do.
Usually, when I fail in a commitment like this, I fight it by motivating myself again towards deeper legalism: restricting myself more, making stricter schedules, putting notes up everywhere to remind myself of the goal. A few days go by where I'm super pumped, but those days are soon followed by a crash, and I go back to square one.
This is more complicated than a lack of self-control. Somewhere in my life there is a disconnect.
Yesterday I stumbled upon Gregory Boyd's website, and there's a Q&A section filled with the most common questions he gets from readers. Here's Gregory Boyd's response to a question from a man asking Gregory why God created him with an uncontrollable sex drive.
"The challenge is not to suppress your sex drive – which you’d probably have little success at doing anyway. The challenge, rather, is to make God the highest priority of your life. Seek first the Kingdom, Jesus said (Mt 6:33). You’ll find that the more you pour yourself into being a disciple of Jesus, the more power you’ll have over your sex drive."
Okay. Being a disciple of Christ brings about the fruits of the spirit, one of those being self-control. So, if you're a Christian, and you're struggling with self-control, the answer is, be devoted to Christ.
But, what if the very thought of being a disciple makes you shrug your shoulders?
Being very candid, that's where I'm at. I feel like my life is one big yawn. It's not that things are boring--it's that I just don't care. I feel like I have to make myself care about anything. This isn't depression and it's not laziness. And this isn't a symptom of some wound. It's not some misconception of God I have. Not this time. This is something that's rooted itself into my whole being. I can feel it. It's this perpetual apathy in everything and lack of strength to uproot it. I'm scrambling around trying to fight it with more and more commitments and schedules, but all that's doing is showing me that nothing inside of me will comply. And all I'm saying is, if Satan has a best way of making a Christian ineffective, it's this. Because you're not wounded and on your way to healing, you're not depressed and working through pain, you're sitting in the middle of an amazing, bustling life with your arms folded, picking at your nails wondering when it will all be finished.
I'm at a loss, honestly. I guess I need prayer. And I'm not giving up, day #8 will still come tomorrow.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Day #6--Running with Duck Feet
Today was 100% raw.
AND, I went for a run. I haven't been able to go running (or do much walking, for that matter) in about a year in a half because I have an unidentifiable soft tissue injury in my left foot that won't heal. But today...I took a risk and ran for 20 minutes. My form is horrible, I kind of run like a duck and my feet hit the ground in all the wrong places at the wrong times. But the good news is, the foot pain isn't unbearable! Which is awesome because I'd love an additional way to detox while I'm on this diet. I probably shouldn't run more than a couple times a week, just because I don't want to injure anything more with my poor form. But we'll see how it progresses. I've heard of everything from arthritis all the way to diabetes being healed from raw diets. I'm crossing my fingers that this will have a positive effect on my foot pain, immune system and joint health. Also, don't worry, I'm still 24 years old, not 90 years old like all of this is making me sound. Ballz.
Have a great weekend, pals.
AND, I went for a run. I haven't been able to go running (or do much walking, for that matter) in about a year in a half because I have an unidentifiable soft tissue injury in my left foot that won't heal. But today...I took a risk and ran for 20 minutes. My form is horrible, I kind of run like a duck and my feet hit the ground in all the wrong places at the wrong times. But the good news is, the foot pain isn't unbearable! Which is awesome because I'd love an additional way to detox while I'm on this diet. I probably shouldn't run more than a couple times a week, just because I don't want to injure anything more with my poor form. But we'll see how it progresses. I've heard of everything from arthritis all the way to diabetes being healed from raw diets. I'm crossing my fingers that this will have a positive effect on my foot pain, immune system and joint health. Also, don't worry, I'm still 24 years old, not 90 years old like all of this is making me sound. Ballz.
Have a great weekend, pals.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Day #5--Re-start
That "Day #5" title should probably actually say "Day #1" since I'm technically starting over because I was seduced by Baskin Robbin's 31¢ Day.
But maybe it's best to not be so rigid and dogmatic with it and just let the fail day be a fail day and keep trudging on.
Anytime I've ever been all or nothing with a diet, it's never translated into changing my day-to-day eating routines, which is something to be noted. And I'd like self-control and good choices to translate when these 30 days are over. So...I won't call yesterday a fail, I'll call it a slight regression. Here's to PROgression.
That's probably all I have to say right now. About raw food anyway. I have a LOT to say about what God's been showing me through others, even though His actual voice has been really silent. It's been really surprising. But maybe in another post. Feel free to listen to this beautiful song instead.
But maybe it's best to not be so rigid and dogmatic with it and just let the fail day be a fail day and keep trudging on.
Anytime I've ever been all or nothing with a diet, it's never translated into changing my day-to-day eating routines, which is something to be noted. And I'd like self-control and good choices to translate when these 30 days are over. So...I won't call yesterday a fail, I'll call it a slight regression. Here's to PROgression.
That's probably all I have to say right now. About raw food anyway. I have a LOT to say about what God's been showing me through others, even though His actual voice has been really silent. It's been really surprising. But maybe in another post. Feel free to listen to this beautiful song instead.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Day #3--Self-awareness is Rampant
Hi.
My head feels like a balloon slightly anchored by a ribbon to the rest of my body. Everything is pretty foggy. and sleepy.
Today as I was doodling during lecture and once again becoming aware of my 2 second attention span, it hit me how pretty much anything good seems like it goes against my grain. And when I say good, I mean things like, spending time with others, listening in class without doodling or checking my twitter, actively praying longer than two minutes, worshiping for God's sake and not mine, joyfully doing things for the sake of others, being vulnerable in conversation, initiating socialization, friendship, saying hello and stopping to chat with passerbys....and on and on. It feels like the grain of these things goes from left to right and mine goes up and down. It rubs me wrong and feels like I'm trying to walk through muck and mire just to simply say hello to someone. It's so hard for me to just be good, and I'm not browbeating myself--really, nothing in me is good, and nothing wants to be. But of course, I can't let the simple fact that I don't want to do something keep me from doing it--I do it. Its just through clenched teeth for the first few minutes, then reality sets in and I realize how good it actually is. Anyway, my point, or rather my question, is how do I combat it? How do you, if you feel similar? I've been reading more about a term called 'acedia' and how it mostly plagues monks and those in religious orders...it's not depression, it's not laziness, it's just a huge weight of not caring. And not even caring about how you don't care. It's a huge hill to overcome and when you feel like you have to overcome it 20 times a day, it gets really old. I don't want to believe that I'll have to feel this way the rest of my life. I believe if Jesus promises an abundant life, than inside that abundant life would be joy for the things that he created as good, so I'm going to hold out for that. But in the meantime, I need some type of solution. I'll be on the look out.
Anyway.
Happy salads.
My head feels like a balloon slightly anchored by a ribbon to the rest of my body. Everything is pretty foggy. and sleepy.
Today as I was doodling during lecture and once again becoming aware of my 2 second attention span, it hit me how pretty much anything good seems like it goes against my grain. And when I say good, I mean things like, spending time with others, listening in class without doodling or checking my twitter, actively praying longer than two minutes, worshiping for God's sake and not mine, joyfully doing things for the sake of others, being vulnerable in conversation, initiating socialization, friendship, saying hello and stopping to chat with passerbys....and on and on. It feels like the grain of these things goes from left to right and mine goes up and down. It rubs me wrong and feels like I'm trying to walk through muck and mire just to simply say hello to someone. It's so hard for me to just be good, and I'm not browbeating myself--really, nothing in me is good, and nothing wants to be. But of course, I can't let the simple fact that I don't want to do something keep me from doing it--I do it. Its just through clenched teeth for the first few minutes, then reality sets in and I realize how good it actually is. Anyway, my point, or rather my question, is how do I combat it? How do you, if you feel similar? I've been reading more about a term called 'acedia' and how it mostly plagues monks and those in religious orders...it's not depression, it's not laziness, it's just a huge weight of not caring. And not even caring about how you don't care. It's a huge hill to overcome and when you feel like you have to overcome it 20 times a day, it gets really old. I don't want to believe that I'll have to feel this way the rest of my life. I believe if Jesus promises an abundant life, than inside that abundant life would be joy for the things that he created as good, so I'm going to hold out for that. But in the meantime, I need some type of solution. I'll be on the look out.
Anyway.
Happy salads.
Day #2--The Power Of The Mind
I almost forgot to blog today. Good thing I didn't.
Bipolar mood swings set in today. It's incredible to me how much fasts are NOT about the food. I'd say most fasting symptoms are 70% mental and 30% physical. Food is such an attachment. And when we don't get it...watch out the eff out.
Seriously.
I noticed something in me today. I was feeling really tired, headachey and grumpy to the nth degree (like literally eyes drooping shut in the passenger seat), while on my way to a meeting. Turns out that meeting was at a coffee shop. It didn't really cross my mind that I would get to have *caffeine* until I was about a block away and suddenly all of my tired, headachey and grumpy to the nth degree melted away and shot all the way up to butterflies and total elation and I perked up like a wilted flower getting water. In a matter of seconds. So either A. I'm as mentally dependent on caffeine as I am on food or B. any form of comfort sounds GREAT right now since I feel cold and skinny and like I could eat an entire jar of almond butter and still feel like I haven't eaten a thing. The hunger is the worst. I keep reading it lasts for about 10 days until it subsides. Lawd in heav'n. Or C. I underestimate the power of the mind.
Going to sleep with a rumblin' belly. Goodnight.
Bipolar mood swings set in today. It's incredible to me how much fasts are NOT about the food. I'd say most fasting symptoms are 70% mental and 30% physical. Food is such an attachment. And when we don't get it...watch out the eff out.
Seriously.
I noticed something in me today. I was feeling really tired, headachey and grumpy to the nth degree (like literally eyes drooping shut in the passenger seat), while on my way to a meeting. Turns out that meeting was at a coffee shop. It didn't really cross my mind that I would get to have *caffeine* until I was about a block away and suddenly all of my tired, headachey and grumpy to the nth degree melted away and shot all the way up to butterflies and total elation and I perked up like a wilted flower getting water. In a matter of seconds. So either A. I'm as mentally dependent on caffeine as I am on food or B. any form of comfort sounds GREAT right now since I feel cold and skinny and like I could eat an entire jar of almond butter and still feel like I haven't eaten a thing. The hunger is the worst. I keep reading it lasts for about 10 days until it subsides. Lawd in heav'n. Or C. I underestimate the power of the mind.
Going to sleep with a rumblin' belly. Goodnight.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Day #1--Happy Easter
Happy Easter.
Today's church service was filled with pretty dresses, snazzy suits, amazing stories of redemption and reminders of the power of the Resurrection. We heard amazing testimonies of the redeeming nature of our God, and most stories had to do with individuals falling to rock bottom because of addiction stemming from some type of wound, and then being rescued from the pit by Jesus. I think we sometimes forget how prevalent addiction is. It's everywhere and in everyone in one way or another. Addictions come in all shapes and sizes and I'd argue that you can pretty much become addicted to anything. The smallest most seemingly insignificant thing, (TV for example) can have just as much, if not more power on someone than a substance like cocaine. It baffles my mind. Also, the power of the mind baffles my mind. Because that's the one thing all addictions trace back to--mind struggle. What would happen to the state of humanity if we gained power over our minds instead of the other way around? Is it even possible? It's interesting to think about.
Anyway, that's what was swirling around in my head during church. Now I'm back at home and other things are swirling around--mainly smells from the kitchen. Of cinnamon rolls, honey baked ham, sweet potatoes, dinner rolls, FRICK. Tonight I will be practicing sitting in my room with a cold plate of salad while the YWAMers sit around tables in the cafeteria sharing warm smiles and hot dishes of delectable treats. I'm not irate about it yet. Actually, I'm pretty peaceful about it. But it's only 8 hours into this fast. So far 2 bananas, almond butter and some cashews a few hours later have been enough to satisfy my spoiled belly. Oh, but I should probably mention that I had a caramel macchiato at 1pm. In an attempt to poop. That might be TMI for most of you, but for me, as the Colon Health Queen, it's nothin' more than a topic for dinner table discussion. So sorry in advance, but there might be much more poo talk in the next 29 posts than you might enjoy. Anyway, this is my written pact to you all (so far Josh Brown and maybe one other person) to NOT drink sugary lattes in order to poop anymore during this fast. Because I have a feeling it just re-toxifies me as if I'm back to square one. So. here's to no more coffee--yerba mate instead. Clean, yet stimulating--mentally and...physically.
Cheers.
Today's church service was filled with pretty dresses, snazzy suits, amazing stories of redemption and reminders of the power of the Resurrection. We heard amazing testimonies of the redeeming nature of our God, and most stories had to do with individuals falling to rock bottom because of addiction stemming from some type of wound, and then being rescued from the pit by Jesus. I think we sometimes forget how prevalent addiction is. It's everywhere and in everyone in one way or another. Addictions come in all shapes and sizes and I'd argue that you can pretty much become addicted to anything. The smallest most seemingly insignificant thing, (TV for example) can have just as much, if not more power on someone than a substance like cocaine. It baffles my mind. Also, the power of the mind baffles my mind. Because that's the one thing all addictions trace back to--mind struggle. What would happen to the state of humanity if we gained power over our minds instead of the other way around? Is it even possible? It's interesting to think about.
Anyway, that's what was swirling around in my head during church. Now I'm back at home and other things are swirling around--mainly smells from the kitchen. Of cinnamon rolls, honey baked ham, sweet potatoes, dinner rolls, FRICK. Tonight I will be practicing sitting in my room with a cold plate of salad while the YWAMers sit around tables in the cafeteria sharing warm smiles and hot dishes of delectable treats. I'm not irate about it yet. Actually, I'm pretty peaceful about it. But it's only 8 hours into this fast. So far 2 bananas, almond butter and some cashews a few hours later have been enough to satisfy my spoiled belly. Oh, but I should probably mention that I had a caramel macchiato at 1pm. In an attempt to poop. That might be TMI for most of you, but for me, as the Colon Health Queen, it's nothin' more than a topic for dinner table discussion. So sorry in advance, but there might be much more poo talk in the next 29 posts than you might enjoy. Anyway, this is my written pact to you all (so far Josh Brown and maybe one other person) to NOT drink sugary lattes in order to poop anymore during this fast. Because I have a feeling it just re-toxifies me as if I'm back to square one. So. here's to no more coffee--yerba mate instead. Clean, yet stimulating--mentally and...physically.
Cheers.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
30 Day Raw Fast--Begin.
During the next 30 days I'm going to blog once a day to document a much needed raw food fast. The idea of blogging about it was probably the last thing on my mind because, as we all know, it's not the best thing to draw attention to yourself when you're fasting. It causes people to be impressed by what you're doing and then self-glorification is your only reward. Fasts are about much more than upping your ego. Fasting is a willful release from the things that bind you and it's a painful and ugly process. It uproots your emotions, causes your body to freak out with toxic elimination, and creates moodiness that changes from elation to rage in a matter of minutes. It SUCKS. Maybe more for me than anyone else. But food is a major, major vice in my life. I've gone on fasts, the longest stint being 8 days on juice. But on the 8th day, I wasn't quitting because I felt like I was finished. I quit because I was hungry. Which proved to me that I was still a slave to hunger. I had not yet become its master.
I've heard powerful testimonies from people who fast for long durations. I've only been able to catch glimpses of the change. I've never been able to be fully set free. So, I'm trying again. I have God on my side, which is a blessing and means I won't have to rely solely on the weak muscle strength of my will. But that also means I'm going to have to deal with the breaking of spiritual chains and bondage, not just physical. Which definitely ups the struggle.
So, why am I blogging about this? Well, accountability for one reason. Although, I am aware that probably only two people read this blog, and that I could have accountability of every friend in my life and I would still rebel in one way or another. I know that my success will never come from accountability. If anything, accountability is simply a reminder of what I'm doing and why. Secondly, I want to be able to lay out, day by day, the progression of this fast--the spiritual high, the inevitable rage, the grief, the detox symptoms, the transformation--and see the ebb and flow of 30 days of deprivation from my biggest go-to comfort source.
I'm not excited about this. Mostly because I've tried diets like this probably 100 times and fail by day 3 like clockwork. I'm ridiculously good at convincing myself out of these types of things--telling myself that it's not healthy, that I don't need it or that 7 days is long enough. But I know, deep in my heart, that this is right and necessary. So, here's my documentation of how I currently feel and my written commitment to these next 30 days. Watch me try to fight it like a crack head in a matter of hours.
Happy Easter tomorrow. God, thank you for being alive. Accept this sacrifice. As small as it is, it's the greatest thing I can offer you at this point.
I've heard powerful testimonies from people who fast for long durations. I've only been able to catch glimpses of the change. I've never been able to be fully set free. So, I'm trying again. I have God on my side, which is a blessing and means I won't have to rely solely on the weak muscle strength of my will. But that also means I'm going to have to deal with the breaking of spiritual chains and bondage, not just physical. Which definitely ups the struggle.
So, why am I blogging about this? Well, accountability for one reason. Although, I am aware that probably only two people read this blog, and that I could have accountability of every friend in my life and I would still rebel in one way or another. I know that my success will never come from accountability. If anything, accountability is simply a reminder of what I'm doing and why. Secondly, I want to be able to lay out, day by day, the progression of this fast--the spiritual high, the inevitable rage, the grief, the detox symptoms, the transformation--and see the ebb and flow of 30 days of deprivation from my biggest go-to comfort source.
I'm not excited about this. Mostly because I've tried diets like this probably 100 times and fail by day 3 like clockwork. I'm ridiculously good at convincing myself out of these types of things--telling myself that it's not healthy, that I don't need it or that 7 days is long enough. But I know, deep in my heart, that this is right and necessary. So, here's my documentation of how I currently feel and my written commitment to these next 30 days. Watch me try to fight it like a crack head in a matter of hours.
Happy Easter tomorrow. God, thank you for being alive. Accept this sacrifice. As small as it is, it's the greatest thing I can offer you at this point.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
"I am sick at heart...
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And is heard no more. It is a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
MacBeth, (Act V, Scene V)
Saturday, February 19, 2011
The True Vine (and the peace it brings)
Sorry that most of my posts have been sappy and angsty, but maybe that's okay for a season.
I'll begin this one with an excerpt from scripture.
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. 2 He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. 3 You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. 4 Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
5 “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. 6 If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. 7 If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.
9 “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. 10 If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. 11 I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. 12 My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. 13 Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. 14 You are my friends if you do what I command. 15 I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. 16 You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. 17 This is my command: Love each other. --John 15:1-17
I have been planted in the Vine, no matter if I like that or not.What I mean by that is, something inside of me compels me to believe in this thing called God. I don't know why. That's just the way it is and the way it's always been. Something is written on my heart to follow after this God. I am rooted in this Vine, no matter what my head says or my heart feels. No matter what I do to talk myself out of it or analyze it down to what it always seems like it might be--a delusion--the rightness and truth of the gospel message (and more so, the peace it brings) always outweigh my doubts.
How is it that simply remaining in the Vine, even if all it is is picking up my bible and reading a few scriptures, or praying a prayer void of anything eloquent but a few mumbles of pain or thankfulness from the heart, causes a warmth to arise in my soul that brings about a peace that passes all understanding, that trumps my worries, fears, anxieties and analysis and I'm left somehow knowing in my heart that God is holding me in the palm of his hand, not pushing me forward or sending me backward, just holding me there, safely and securely? A simple act of frustrated communion with my God --this great God that I will never understand or grasp no matter the length of my reaching or analyzation of my mind--brings about relief that I don't deserve or even necessarily expect?
Who is this God?
He has apparently chosen me and I apparently have favor in His sight. He's apparently patient with me beyond earthly measure. He apparently loves me and I have no idea why. He apparently fashioned me into the great Vine that He is, as a branch that is entirely dependent on Him for life, vibrancy, joy and peace. To many it may sound crazy, and many may blame the peace in my heart that I'm describing as influence of tradition or influence of American culture and family environment, as I have grown up around this my entire life. I often wonder that myself. But there is nothing on earth I will attest to more that wipes away every pinch of dread and every tear of hopelessness, or sets my head in the right direction or heals the wounds of my heart more than God himself--this vast, vague, all encompassing and sometimes ever silent being. Is that something to rationalize away? Or is it something to wonder at? Don't choose the easy one. And God, help me not to either.
I'll begin this one with an excerpt from scripture.
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. 2 He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. 3 You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. 4 Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
5 “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. 6 If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. 7 If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.
9 “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. 10 If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. 11 I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. 12 My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. 13 Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. 14 You are my friends if you do what I command. 15 I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. 16 You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. 17 This is my command: Love each other. --John 15:1-17
I have been planted in the Vine, no matter if I like that or not.What I mean by that is, something inside of me compels me to believe in this thing called God. I don't know why. That's just the way it is and the way it's always been. Something is written on my heart to follow after this God. I am rooted in this Vine, no matter what my head says or my heart feels. No matter what I do to talk myself out of it or analyze it down to what it always seems like it might be--a delusion--the rightness and truth of the gospel message (and more so, the peace it brings) always outweigh my doubts.
How is it that simply remaining in the Vine, even if all it is is picking up my bible and reading a few scriptures, or praying a prayer void of anything eloquent but a few mumbles of pain or thankfulness from the heart, causes a warmth to arise in my soul that brings about a peace that passes all understanding, that trumps my worries, fears, anxieties and analysis and I'm left somehow knowing in my heart that God is holding me in the palm of his hand, not pushing me forward or sending me backward, just holding me there, safely and securely? A simple act of frustrated communion with my God --this great God that I will never understand or grasp no matter the length of my reaching or analyzation of my mind--brings about relief that I don't deserve or even necessarily expect?
Who is this God?
He has apparently chosen me and I apparently have favor in His sight. He's apparently patient with me beyond earthly measure. He apparently loves me and I have no idea why. He apparently fashioned me into the great Vine that He is, as a branch that is entirely dependent on Him for life, vibrancy, joy and peace. To many it may sound crazy, and many may blame the peace in my heart that I'm describing as influence of tradition or influence of American culture and family environment, as I have grown up around this my entire life. I often wonder that myself. But there is nothing on earth I will attest to more that wipes away every pinch of dread and every tear of hopelessness, or sets my head in the right direction or heals the wounds of my heart more than God himself--this vast, vague, all encompassing and sometimes ever silent being. Is that something to rationalize away? Or is it something to wonder at? Don't choose the easy one. And God, help me not to either.
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