Conniving Correction

Recently there was a threat of a gunman in my building. It was never confirmed, and it was fairly looked over in the news. However, at the moment… the fear was intense. A couple of hours later (after the police had swarmed the area) we were told to go back to normal activity. Needless to say, that was easier said than done. Without answers my fear festered and I turned to social media for anything to subside my curiosity. There I was bombarded by terrified facebook posts and tweets from my friends and neighbors. One had commented at the time of the lockdown about how she had seen the suspect. In her distress, she made a few grammatical errors. I didn’t notice them until I read the first reply. It was from a woman who took it on herself to correct this young lady’s grammar through mockery. I was shocked. Seriously?

 

But the more I though about it, the less surprised I became. We live in a world of people who police others minor mistakes. They have lost the bigger picture. No longer is it about empathy, gently leading someone into wisdom, but mocking the accused into submission. “You forgot an apostrophe! Therefore I consider myself greater than you and your opinion by scoffing at your mistake. Here in front of my hoard of followers I deem you a Moron.”

 

Where is the kindness? What happened to loving someone in the midst of human faults? The term correction has now become synonymous with “burn”. Which leads me to assume that it is easier to watch others burn in shame than truly care. Sadly, in a growing “me vs. the world” mentality, this doesn’t surprise me.

 

This stained version of correction has infiltrated the Christian realm. From the outside, Christianity only looks like uncomfortable correction and a finger pointing Christ at the helm. Being wrong isn’t a time to learn and experience the beautiful freedom of Grace, but instead a sinful soreness that will be picked at painfully by those who claim to be helping.

 

But this isn’t my Jesus. My Jesus didn’t participate in the jeers when the adulterous woman was brought to him. He didn’t belittle her or make her feel the full pain of her actions. No, he turned and questioned the people trying to make an example of her. He stared into the eyes of the judgmental and asked them to search their own hearts for wrongdoing. One by one, they shamefully backed away. Then he turned to her with deep compassion, recognizing that he would die for this woman’s sin and forgave her. He urged her to “Go and sin no more.” His correction was made out of love because he truly cared for her wellbeing, not because he wanted to be seen as “better”. Every time I read of this moment, my heart melts because I see the Grace of Jesus. But there is more to it than that. Only one person was forgiven at the time and it wasn’t the accusers, but the broken woman. So what’s the point of self-righteousness if there is no freedom of forgiveness?

 

If I truly take this into consideration, then when I stand in front of Christ I will not have the people that I judged my righteousness against to make me feel better standing between me and my Savior. No, I won’t be able to point fingers and state how great I am compared to this person or that person. I will be there alone, his eyes peering into my soul. And I will hear my heart begging him to not be as critical of me as I was with others. I will cry out for compassion, for him to look past my actions and show me empathy. I am grateful that my Jesus won’t take that moment to mock my wrong doings, or use my errors to point out to God how much better He is than me. But instead…grace. And I will feel the warmth of forgiveness just like the redeemed woman. After a moment in the presence of my God, I will walk away clean and blessed…not damned and ashamed.

Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus.

 

Landlocked

I felt a tug on the rope tied around my wrist. I looked up and to find that I was tied to my co-worker Judy.  Rarely does Judy make an appearance in my dreams, but when she does she is the embodiment of hard work and sacrifice. I felt my other wrist move to see that I was also connected to the Pope. Confused, I assessed my surroundings and noticed a large hall with a sizeable wooden frame in the center. The walls were a heavy, block stone that seemed to rise infinitely upward. It was all enclosed and there was nowhere to go. There were crowds of people surrounding the edges of the building, watching every move. Fully aware of what was going to happen, I looked over at Judy and said, “They are going to hang us, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” said Judy. After a solemn pause she continued, “There are always consequences to doing the right thing.” I turned to my left and saw the Pope nod in agreement. With subdued movement he signed a scripture verse and I patted my chest in assurance.

I Peter 5:10 After you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself perfect, confirm, strengthen and establish you.                                                                               

We walked over to a large collection of old books, carried them to the wooden structure, and threw them in a pile underneath. As the pile grew, I asked Judy of the purpose.

“In case the rope snaps when they hang us, the old book spines will break our spines when we fall,” she said without looking up from her assignment.

As a faceless figure strung us up, a few seconds passed and I awoke. I am still unsure of the meaning of the books, only that people will use cultural pressure, majority in number, and intellect to tear down those that intimidate them.

Ever since I can remember, I have tried to do the right thing. At sixteen, I would wake up every morning and state, “It’s not about you. It’s about the unseen.” I understood that life decisions never just affect one person. We are humankind, forever linked together. Each day was the chance to bless my surroundings and acknowledge the greatness in others. I was adamantly against Aleister Crowley’s conceited mantra, “Do what thou wilt.” That vain idea gives into the selfish belief that human beings are autonomous islands that are ruled by divine right. In this mindset, we are god-like rulers who are accountable to no one. When people come into our lives, they must bow before the laws we set in place. It is not about them, but their acceptance of us. If they cannot accept our egocentric demands, then they are forever exiled as traitors. For anyone who challenges us and strives us to grow (including God) they are seen as a threat to our self-importance. If those in your life do not positively pressure you to continue moving forward, then their love is also selfish because it is used as a tool to keep you stagnant and the same. It’s not love, it’s ownership. Love is not worthwhile when there is no growth; it is merely tainted affection. True love means encouraging and blessing those in our lives in order to embrace eternal fulfillment.

Retreating into our own minds leads us to assume that every selfish action is justified. We refuse to see how our actions affect other people, and therefore, lose our apathy. Island living is a farce, because it is no more than an anesthetized existence.

Alone, we are worthless. Nothing about you is so extraordinary that you will somehow be able to escape mortality and live forever in legendary status. No, the world existed before you, and will continue to exist without you. However, when we allow Christ to live within us and we choose to embrace those around us by abandoning our islands, we form the church. I am aware that culture has stigmatized the word “church” into a useless collection of hypercritical hate mongers, but that is not the church of the Bible.

Is the church flawed? Of course, we live in a fallen world. Who isn’t flawed? Our society is so busy throwing rocks at other people’s problems that we refuse to see the entropy in ourselves. When we are accused of something, there is always someone to blame.

THERE IS NO HONOR IN FINGER POINTING! Shaking a judgmental finger at a problem does not make you a hero. If you want to see positivity in the church, then BE THAT POSITIVITY! Do not just stand there as a roadblock to those attempting to do good works.

Romans 12:3-5
For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.

The church looks so messy because it dives into the problems. It knows that in order to reach people at their lowest point, it must go and find them. I am honored to be apart of the international church that withstands suffering in the Middle East, meets underground in China, sends missionaries across the world, and daily tries to forget oneself and instead love one’s neighbor.

I am no island, but humbly landlocked.

 

I Don’t

I am at that age where everyone I know is getting married and having children. I am ecstatic for them and wish them nothing less than enduring happiness.

However the whole concept of mutual affection and the sense of knowing that this person is now apart of you through marriage, still seems so foreign to me.

Before my brother proposed to his wife, we sat down to chat during vintage video game night.

“Hey Bubbs, is it weird knowing?” I asked.

“Knowing what?” he responded.

“That you want forever with this person. Life isn’t just you anymore. That knowing just seems…. unfathomable.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” He said as his character Rayden shocked me on screen. He was still focused, but I couldn’t concentrate.

“I mean, knowing what a large part of your future looks like. Isn’t that weird?” I asked as the game voice announced “FINISH HIM!” I knew the game was over, but hoped the conversation would continue.

“No, Jack…. it’s not weird. It’s natural. Why would knowing feel weird? I guess I still don’t understand the question.” He left it at that and I just assumed this query would answer itself in time.

That was two years ago, and that sense of “knowing” still seems odd to me. I understand loyalty. I understand infatuation. I understand plans and security, but something still just seems off. My life changes so quickly. One second, I’m living with strangers I met off Craigslist out west. The next second, I’m enrolled in Law School. Some time goes by and a guy friend proposes, more time goes by and he’s married to someone else. Soon I’m looking for jobs in Australia, and then the next week I’m signed to an agency in New York. As of right now, few things in my life make sense. Only a few things are certain: 1. I love God first, foremost, and forever. 2. I am a redhead that sunburns easily. 3. I love creating the perfect gift for those I love. 4. My cat is 19 years old and will probably live forever.

My parents have been hopeful that I am at least coming around to the idea of marriage. However last night I had a dream about it that proves I haven’t changed at all. In the dream I went to a friend’s wedding and was so happy for them. In the next scene, I was in a wedding dress. I was being pushed down an aisle to stand next to a guy I barely know. When I figured out what was going on I just kept screaming, “NOOOO! I’m not ready!” I ran away and spent the rest of the dream helping my grandfather pick out a new recliner.

I have often been told that I am “marriage material” and that when guys like me, they also feel the strong sense of forever with it. But it’s not fair. I never look at forever. I don’t feel like marriage material. I really don’t want to be married right now and I don’t want to know the man I am going to spend the rest of my life with.  It’s too much pressure because I’m not ready to have that aspect of my future already set in stone.

I would love to be able to talk with someone about this, but none of my girlfriends understand what I mean. Like Sméagol, they crave the ring above all else. I’ve recently started seeing someone, but he just agrees with me on everything because he thinks I’m pretty. There is no future with him and it’s nice…but it makes some deep conversations taboo. Maybe this is a topic for my penpal…unless anyone who reads this wants to start a discussion.  😉

 

Decompression

Over the past three weeks I have had a tension and anxiety that couldn’t be shaken. Honestly big things have been a thorn in my side since the beginning of this year. I didn’t know how to solve it, how to pray about it, or who to talk to about it. So I covered it up with distractions. I have been going out nearly every night and filling my free thoughts with solvable (historical) problems. A few of my friends always come to me to interpret dreams, and luckily there were many odd ones to keep me occupied. I have also been neck deep in grad work. Sadly two of my professors have had a nasty streak of unprofessionalism and I had to confront them. I crossed my fingers that they wouldn’t take vengeance out on my work.

To be honest, I haven’t felt like praying. Praying meant facing the things I could not change, the situations that hurt, and the tensions I had been ignoring. So I suppressed it. It all became too much and my heart couldn’t take it. On Saturday it started beating so fast that I couldn’t catch my breath. My numb body shook and I was terrified that if I couldn’t calm down I would have to go back to the hospital only to be told again that there is nothing they can do. It is scary when a doctor can see your condition, but cannot name it or cure it. I went for a long drive with a friend. I took in the scenery and breathed as slowly as possible, desperately trying to empty my brain of the stress. I felt so isolated in the intensity.

But now I am on an island in the middle of a vast ocean. I can sit still and breathe again. I can close my eyes and feel the uneven texture of sand underneath me. I can feel the warm light rest upon my skin. It is tangible, but weightless. I can hear the waves crash and the wild roosters crow. I can smell the tropical rain moving in. I can taste the passion fruit that I picked this morning. I can sense God.

All is well. Everything is and will be fine. God has not abandoned me. He has not brought me this far to fail. I so intensely crave a life that pleases God. I work till it hurts, then work more. I give till I am lacking, and then find more to give. I allow people to speak badly of me in hopes that they are not criticizing anyone else. I let people take advantage of my kindness, in the hope that they are at least kind to others. It has become a little more than I can handle and I have realized not all if it is worth it (and flawed). It is worthwhile to pause and partake in the fruits of labor. In this case the labor of God with creation and nature. Thank you Lord for lifting this tension. Thank you for clearing the air so that I can hear You more distinctly. Thank you for the wildlife that wakes me each morning. Thank for for this smile on my face, this peace in my heart, and this joy throughout my body.

 

Culture Shock

“Where is your ID? You don’t want to be sent to the office,” said the woman with the clipboard.

“Actually, I am looking for the office. I’m a guest professor, “ I replied with a smile.

“Oh, haha. Wow, you look young. It is down the hall and to the right.”

I made my way through the throngs of students, still completely unaware of where I was going. With great relief I reached the office and signed in. The principal greeted me and asked me asked me if I need help to the History/English Department. I nodded. Unable to leave her desk, she called out to a nearby male teacher.

“Mr. Adams, can you please show our guest to her classroom?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said from outside the room. He walked in and just stared at me for a moment, “Uh, ok. You can follow me.” He quickly turned around and maintained an adequate distance ahead of me. I noticed his right hand fidget with his wedding ring. He didn’t say anything for a while, but the school was big and it was a long walk to hallway P. Finally, without any eye contact, he said, “You, uh, teach?”

“Not officially.”

“Huh, ok.”

“What subject do you teach?”

“Math. Just math. Here is your class. Ok, bye,” he turned around without ever once meeting my eyes and quickly left the hallway. It was uncomfortable, but welcomed. I have no desire to befriend a married man. I will never make that mistake again.

There I was, in front of a classroom, attempting to explain the Marxist Revolution in Spain. I tried tying in as many examples I could think of to catch their interest. I spoke of Salvador Dali the surrealist painter. I spoke of George Orwell and his allegory Animal Farm. The students looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. Behavior problems ensued and chaos took over the class. Although I am petite, I became intense. One student hid under a table to avoid doing an assignment. I followed him.

“Girl, you have got to be kidding me,” he said exasperated. With help, he ended up finishing the assignment. I found out later that it was the first one he had completed all semester. In the next class a fight broke out and I found myself right in the middle. Nearly hit by all the swinging arms, I was grateful that security came quickly. However one of the students had to take a placement test before being sent home. I was put in charge of that. Soon I was in a room with this young man who was desperate to get me to hate him. He mocked me, threatened me, and yelled in my face. I sat there and told him that I knew he could do this. Desperate to quit he tried breaking his own hand. That’s when I found myself right in his face. In a calm, but firm tone I told him what was expected and that he could take his time.

“I hate you,” he said intensely, “and you hate me.”

“No, I do not.”

“Then I will spend the rest of the day making you wish you did.”

Needless to say, it was an extremely overwhelming day. I was in one of the toughest high schools within a 50-mile radius. Many of the students I met had extreme learning challenges and intense behavior issues. This was so different than my education.

I grew up privileged. I studied at a private, college prep school. I never had to worry about anything other than studying. I participated in all the clubs and was on multiple sports teams. Sure, it was still high school and I was faced with peer pressure and challenges, but overall I thrived. My love for learning, writing, reading, and speaking flourished. Because of the high academic abilities of the students, we were able to learn vast amounts of information with creativity and endless freedom. What bliss.

Being at this rugged high school was a shock to my system. The few moments of stability within a class were some of the only moments of peace in these students waking lives. My heart was devastated and I prayed all the way home.

These teachers want to see their students succeed and grasp that love for learning. But insecurities have a way of twisting this good intention into something negative and judgmental. This mindset doesn’t end in high school. As Christians, we will often come across people (even other Christians) that see our love for them as revolting. They loathe that exposed feeling as we notice their potential and begin to express affection. You can sense that they would much rather prefer your actual hatred; this way they can label you a hypocrite and can continue to feel justified in their own damaging habits. Honestly, it is something we are all guilty of at some point. Love is not something that is easily absorbed. Love beckons us to grow. It urges us to be selfless. It feels like too great a sacrifice if we fail to see all the benefits. Acceptance, understanding, wisdom, joy, comfort and peace are there, we just have to try.

I wish I knew the cure to making all this vile misunderstanding go away. I wish love were incapable of being manipulated in the minds of others. I wish we were not so consumed with our own secrets and issues, that way we could actively participate in the love that surrounds us.

But tomorrow is another day. It is another chance to see if the walls of self-consumed defiance crumble just enough to actually notice the good that awaits us.

 

Je t’aime plus

J’adore aujourd’hui!

~Warning, this post get’s a bit gruesome.~

I have always found this day to be fascinating. While many focus on candy and Hallmark sentiments, there is something both tragic and beautiful at the heart of it. Although most that is known about St. Valentine is cloaked in mystery, a few things are known. He died on February 14 269 A.D. However even that fact is debatable from the date to the number of saints. There are many Saint Valentines in the Roman Catholic priesthood and two in particular at the time of death.  Most historians conclude that there was just one man, a saint who became bishop, that was beheaded for his faith.  Although there is little question of the martyrdom of a saint, the event may have been romanticized by Chaucer (author of the Canterbury Tales) in the poem “The Parliament of Fowls”. He actually used the term “Valentine’s Day” which obviously is still in use.

History aside, what I find most incredible is how we celebrate the death of this man. It is a day of love, affection, and declarations of the heart. What an honor to have one’s legacy be wrapped in the beauty of love. This man willingly faced punishment because the love in his heart for God was bigger than death itself. This inspires me beyond words. Although hardly comparable, I often dream of dying for my faith. One dream in particular still haunts me.

I was about to be hung. I looked down and all across my skin were tattoos of the sins of others mixed with inked hearts of love. I was dying so they wouldn’t have to. The enemy was incensed at such affection, so he cut out each tattoo from my body. My skin still crawls when I think about the deep incisions. Mutilated, I dropped to the floor from the loss of blood and remember looking up into the heavens and saying, “Thank you God.”

I’m not stating that true love for God requires martyrdom, but I’m expressing how this love is greater than the worst of the world. It is greater than fame, money, and pleasure. It is eternal. When one is blessed enough to taste the divine nature of God, so many other things fade in comparison. I still remember the look in my boyfriend’s eyes as he looked past death and saw the face of Jesus. Skin was falling off his body from the burns, but he raised up his hands and attempted to spend his last moments of life praising God. Throughout the agony, he saw something I didn’t. He witnessed the fulness of Glory here on earth moments before his body gave up and unleashed his spirit.

This love is more than chocolate or being romanced, because when it is based in God it is the substance worth living (and dying) for.

**CATHOLIC VALENTINES PRAYER

Praise to the One whose love stirs the ancient embers
sparks the breath of prayer

Praise to the One whose love entices the wandering
beckons the confused

Praise to the One whose love grows wings on the weary
dreams hope in the discouraged

Praise to the One whose love soothes with the ointment of mercy
transforms with the touch of compassion

Praise to the One whose love threads the energy of friendship
stitches the strength of fidelity

Praise to the One whose love tickles the soul with laughter
urges the heart toward joy

Praise to the One whose love embraces the untamed
dances with the passionate

All praise to this Gracious One
All gratitude to this Beloved
All love to this Mentor of Friendship
All devotion to this Shaper of Hearts.

 

Your Friendship is Tireless

It was a moment when all within me came to sudden halt. What I was doing didn’t matter. My eyes closed and I whispered, “Jesus.” My heart quickened. It was time to pray.

For a while all I could say was the name of Lord. My spirit was beckoning for something deeper. Although I do not go a day without praying, I had let myself grow accustomed to more general blessings.

I lifted up my friendships. I prayed out the Ephesians prayer over each one.

Ephesians 3:16-20

I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

I then did something I rarely do. I prayed this over myself. It struck a nerve because I found myself crying while trying to get through it.  Suddenly I realized how much I had allowed the feelings of abandonment by God to seep into my heart. I have always been aware of the generosity, love, and grace of God but always in a greater measure for those around me. God is so intense in His love for humanity; I have been blessed to feel a fraction of this love for others. Sometimes all I have to do is look a person in the eyes and I can feel my knees buckle as my heart is washed over by His deep love for them. I know God loves me too, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel a thing. But even with this absence of feeling, I am certain of God’s love.

It is difficult to feel God’s love when all I crave is to serve Him, only to be hindered at every turn. I recently moved across the country to serve in a ministry. After much prayer, fasting, and sacrifice, I took the leap. I was only there a few days when I had unknowingly offended someone. I was soon asked to leave. I had no idea what I done wrong. However, there was no second chance. There was no grace. There was no forgiveness.

If this were the only instance, than it would be so much easier to grow from. But time and again I notice that my former “Christian friends” only give me one shot. If I mess up, it’s over. I try my best to correct things, but it’s never the same. It is easier to cut me out of their life than forgive me. Even when the tables are turned and it is a friend that hurts me, everything still dissolves. My favorite professor in college was in charge of my study abroad trip. Even though he neglected many red flags, I did not blame him for what went wrong. He didn’t know what would happen. I was not angry with him. When I returned to school, all I wanted was for things to go back to normal. But he couldn’t look me in the eyes, as if I were the embodiment of his failure. After a few days into the school year he went into early retirement and never returned to campus. He never spoke to me again.

With this constant treatment form Christians, it is difficult not to think that God is same way. I will misinterpret. I will misstep. I will fail. I’m human. So my brain, accustomed to the past, reasoned that God was growing distant. Yes, He would listen when I prayed for others, but it stopped there.

But God is not human. God does not hold petty offences or cast off those He doesn’t want to forgive. No, His goodness is immeasurable, and all reaching! God placed an intense love for people within me. Not even a human would put their most worthwhile possession into second-rate vessel. No people put what they cherish into something they can trust, like a safe or bank.

Because of my obedience and willingness to sacrifice, the Lord trusts me. No matter what, I will love and serve God. Because of this trust, I am evermore confident in His love for me.

*Song I’m listening to: “Nearness” by Lovelite

 

“Reckless is Fun…

…when you’re not the one that gets hurt.” – San Cisco

My last post highlighted my intense redhead wrath, but I have since calmed down. I hate being angry and try to never go to bed while upset. Needless to say, it took me awhile to fall asleep. Witnessing a friend’s pain unnerves me to no end; but as much as I want to, I cannot fight their battles. Hurt is something we must go through and grow through. It makes us wiser and, in time, beckons us to attempt the most unearthly action – forgiveness.

I do wish that when people hurt others, they were made instantly aware of the consequences. Sadly life isn’t like that. Often those who bully others run away or cut ties before they witness the pain they cause. It is much easier to justify horrible actions when one not around to see the backlash.

So what does one do? I certainly do not want to become a cynic who only believes the worst in others, a life expecting disappointment. No, I want to keep being that girl who sees the beautiful good in others (even when it is covered by a rough exterior). I believe in forgiving and forgetting. Holding onto tiny offenses can incite a chasm in the strongest relationships (especially between us and God).

Forgiveness does not condone bad behaviors, but it does recognize our humanness. It reminds us that we can be more than our faults. That is the beauty of it. We will all mess up and disappoint those around us. Sometimes even the best intentions cause unknown pain. Therefore I am thankful that forgiveness transcends the awkward and awful nature of people, in order to enlighten us to the view of God. He loves us, in spite of us.

Forgiving those who targeted and assaulted me felt nearly impossible. How could I forgive when my deepest desire was for them to feel my pain, my fear, and my loss of faith in the goodness of men? I wanted them to suffer. But I soon realized that holding onto this offense was preventing me from healing and moving on. I was not going to let the lack of good judgment in others dictate how I was going to live the rest of my life. Yes, I was broken, but God made me stronger.