We (women) don’t understand compartmental thinking. Our spaghetti brains are completely and absolutely unable to grasp the simple and very much un-complex male psyche. I am not in any way attacking their intelligence level. I am only drawing a conclusion to their black and white nature. If my male surveys have told me anything thus far, it’s this… men mean what they say. They act how they feel. Period. It’s not some exhilarating mind game they’ve conspired to drive us crazy. We enable each other with elaborate illustrations of how he probably meant this, even though he did and said something completely different. We think everything means something else. And rightly so, because we live and breathe in this world. We assume because we act in this manner, that they do as well. Fallacy.
For instance, when a guy is stand offish and doesn’t initiate hang outs, we fit all sorts of square explanations into round pegs of understanding. He is shy. He is probably too scared to ask you out. Maybe he doesn’t think you’re interested in him, and he doesn’t want to crash and burn in a fiery embarrassment. This makes sense to us, because WE don’t always mean what we say. Think I’m way off? Humor me once more with a few examples.
You like a boy. You talk about him to your friends. You’ve even tried signing his last name behind your first name. But when he walks into the room, everything goes white and you avoid him at all cost. You ignore the boy you've spent all day dreaming about.
Boys don’t do this. We do. So we think they do, too.
You are good friends with this guy and have been for some time. You’ve always liked him for the part of your ‘next boyfriend’, but you play the cool chick role and are there for him when he wants to vent about other girls. You like him and will just be here reminding him of how great you are until he realizes his ‘one’ has been under his nose the whole time.
Boys only put friends in the friend zone. We put crushes in the friend zone. So we think they do, too.
He’s shy. He doesn’t approach anyone, let alone a girl he’s interested in. It’s totally acceptable for you to walk up and initiate conversation, maybe even invite him to coffee. He’ll appreciate the effortlessness of it.
We desire that pursuit. So in a twisted way, we’re able to justify its acceptableness. We like to be chased, so we think they do, too.
Do you see that because we assume boys think as we do, we end up doing a lot of silly things and wasting exhausting efforts on boys that were ‘just not that into us’ to begin with? Now, please don’t reply in anger because you did something to the above affect and it worked for you. I definitely don’t pretend to know it all. I recognize I speak in complete generalities and there are many exceptions to the rule. But, I have 15 ‘men tell all’ surveys in front of me that scream in unison, MEN ARE PRETTY STINKIN' SIMPLE.
I’ll have you chase a white rabbit for a brief second, if you’ll allow it. A shocking majority of the men… (are you sitting down?) have a strong desire to be married. On a scale of one to five, five being the strongest desire, almost every single male survey replied with a big bold FIVE. I also need to share with you that most of the men, though they might've said it was ideal to be able to provide for his wife by being settled into a successful career, it was definitely not a requirement to engagement or marriage. Most of the men said it wasn’t actually important to them. If the right woman came along, they would seize the opportunity.
I also asked questions such as, “How will a girl know you are interested in her?”. They said... (ready for it?)
they’ll want to... (are you listening?)
SPEND TIME WITH HER. They’ll ask questions about her. They will talk to her often. They will try to hang out with her or just be around her. Pretty complex stuff, right? NOT. Ladies, if they like you, you’ll know. Let’s stop encouraging ourselves and our friends to fall for boys who don’t like us. Unless, you secretly like the fantasy build up, followed by a humiliating rejection: STOP IT.
If that wasn’t reason enough, let me share with you another secret of theirs. They know when they are being crushed on. We think we’re sly; ignoring them some days, nonchalantly writing on their facebook wall. But it would seem they are on to us. The guys I polled had a convincing list of ways they can spot an eager girl out. Follow with me, they can smell it, so if he’s not serving it back… double ouch.
I’ve suspected it for sometime, but there is something about holding the proof in your hands that will sober you up fast. Guys desire the chase. As much as we hope at our core a guy seeks us out and fights for our affection, they equally need to conquer such a fight. If he doesn’t pursue, there is a cheapness to the pursuit and he might never appreciate your heart in the way, I believe, God intends. From the moment you take the reigns, or step out ahead emotionally, the roles are reversed and it would be rather hard, I imagine, to ever flip those roles later in life.
This is where trusting God is vital to our sanity and to our heart’s health. A woman, trusting and waiting for God’s best will understand when it doesn’t work out. She'll recognize that it was grace and not personal failure that led to the end, or maybe even led to the not-even-started. Sweet ladies, if he doesn’t want to spend time with you, it’s not because you need to lose weight or buy a new personality. It’s because he is not the one for YOU. I pray that someone tonight will stick their complex key into this simple lock and open up a security to rest in.
I have only scratched the surface of these male surveys. And I hate to lump the participants all into generic, unoriginal answers, but I must tell you their responses are all written between the same lines. They don’t stray far from each other. (Even down to the fact almost all the men sent back typed answers, whereas all the women hand wrote out their answers.) There is a lot to unpack here. I am blessed to analyze it further, thankful for the men who replied and eager to shed truth on some of the lies we’ve allowed ourselves to subscribe to for far, far too long.
Back to the male brain, I go. Wish me luck, yo.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Ghosts of boyfriends past.
Exes, ugh. Most of us have them. Most of us wish we didn’t. Again, I speak in absolute generalities and 100% from experience. Unfortunately, I seem to have an awfully hard time moving past my past. I’m really great at understanding why it ended. Not so good at the letting go part. I’m awesome at manipulating myself into rationalizing harmless texts, or insisting that I could handle a friendship. It very much resembles something like the few times I’ve attempted to surf mushy hurricane swell. You want to catch a sweet wave so bad, but in the end you just get worked over, worn out and rained on. Or in my specific case, stitches in the back of my arm and a trail of blood leading the sharks right to me. This seems like an awesome example, but it's actually a true story.
I’ve learned from my survey responses that every broken relationship came with its equal share of unbroken, rather large in fact, red flags. It’s like owning our very own army issued night vision relationship goggles. I don’t know much about night goggles. But I picture us walking around in the dark fully functional, until someone flips a light switch on (or in this case a break up, an argument, a brutal rejection… name your vice).
I’ve got analogies all day to describe the junk we walk through to get over our exes. But the exciting part is this… I think I've stumbled on to something. It could be a stretch, or it could be in genius. Hear me out, lady friends. I think, just maybe, it is actually a pride issue. When I first popped this pill in my mouth, it was bitter and hard to swallow. I’ve got a list of insecurities a mile long. How does it even make sense that pride would be the root of my break up hang up? To answer this, I’ll have to expose a little of myself here. This is the part that I try to hold tightly to when posting on a social network for all to see. Who wants to admit they are walking around wounded? Not I, said the pride.
There are two men in my adult life that I can’t seem to dismiss. Now, I have nothing bad to say about either one of them; the opposite, actually. I seem to only remember the good stuff. I shake my fist at you, selective memory. All I know is that they both liked me a lot and then seemingly overnight, not so much. It’s confusing and depressing all wrapped up in one burrito.
The rational side of my brain recognizes that with one of these guys, I built him up to be my very own grown up Aladdin. Aladdin was always my favorite. Mostly because Jasmine was the only Disney princess I even remotely looked like but, also because he was dangerous, had a magic carpet and the kingdom at his finger tips. Boy #1 offered up a whole new world, a new fantastic point of view. (Are you singing the song with me yet?) The magical Disney moment passes and I realize, I looked to this young man to be my absolute savior from… myself. I didn’t blame him one bit as I watched him exit quickly, carpet tassels flapping in the wind. I was young and silly. Pride won’t let me take a step further. And here’s why. Somewhere deep down I have to believe I am something great and irreplaceable. That’s why it’s incomprehensible that he is not trying to ‘look me up’ or reply to my breezy facebook messages. Its pride AND insecurity. I have a feeling there is a lethal relationship here that I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of.
Boy #2 (let’s all pretend we don’t know who this one is). I had to take a few long breaths here to even muster up the courage to unpack this lovely present. I’ve never been tackled by a professional linebacker, but I’ve experienced the painful aftermath. Unlike the last example, this one didn’t unfold so pleasantly and wasn’t as easy to predict. Think more… car accident. I’m jamming out to the radio. Seconds later, I’m flipping through the air and meeting what feels like my fatal demise. Craziest thing… the wound looks almost the same. He doesn’t return my texts, or put forth any effort to be friends. It hurts something bad to lose a best friend. And I find myself wishing upon all wishes to go back to the friendship stage of that relationship. If only we could’ve stayed there. I’d be spared of the hurt and the new void. He’d still be here to make me laugh and hang my Ikea pot rack.
This is when I first realized the pattern. This is me recognizing the wound needs to be cleaned up (even if it stings) and then properly medicated. To do this, I will attempt to self diagnose. Then, we operate.
I’ve talked about this before. I wished I was more like a dude, instead of wondering and pining over all the things I did wrong. I’ve heard it said before that men are like dresser drawers. They can close up shop to an emotion or an event and completely function on to the next. When I get dumped, it spills over into every single smelly square footage of my life. I get intensely hung up on closure. I seek it out from the handlers of my brokenness. It’s like I’m screaming out… desperate to make sense of it all. They’ve dumped me, so I’m convinced there is something wrong with me. Insecurity. But, then I think if they just get a taste of how witty and great I was/am then there’d be no need for closure. Instead, they’d remember they are still in love with me and recognize they won’t find better. Pride. What a nasty cycle. It’s about to be a broken cycle.
I’m leaving all my shame and graveling at the feet of my ghost of boyfriends past. As much as I hoped for a different outcome to both stories, I am finally learning from them so it doesn’t seem such a waste. For now, I’ll just hope they’re single longer than I. And that I some how profit big time from them breaking my silly little heart. Dare I say, best seller?
Dearest friend, if you're out there still hung up on the ending of something mediocre... let it stop today. Or at least start walking in a new direction with me. If we're honest, I mean really honest... is it the boy we're still hung up on? Or could it be the rejection we've been handed that dinged our ego? If you think I'm way off, humor me with a quick example to prove my point. I can't even name the number of times I've seen this played out in my own life and the lives around me. You are halfheartedly flirting around with a boy. He's shorter than you'd like, or maybe wears funny shoes. You don't really care too much for him and you maybe even have a few others like him on the side. But a pretty girl writes on his facebook wall. Or suddenly one too many of your calls have gone to voice mail. Is your blood pressure rising from recognition? What seems like overnight we are obsessed with a boy, we didn't actually even like to begin with. It's the game. It's the loss of our pride that feeds the insecurity and blossoms into a big heaping disaster of poo. Somehow, we're devastated and chasing a guy that is less than desirable, all because he breathed a breath of abandonment.
Catch it right now. Put it outside and hope it curls up and dies somewhere. We're better than this. I promise. Do you believe it? Of course you do. Don't try to bail ship because you're keeping score with "him", but do it because you're trusting God for a better YOU.
I’ve learned from my survey responses that every broken relationship came with its equal share of unbroken, rather large in fact, red flags. It’s like owning our very own army issued night vision relationship goggles. I don’t know much about night goggles. But I picture us walking around in the dark fully functional, until someone flips a light switch on (or in this case a break up, an argument, a brutal rejection… name your vice).
I’ve got analogies all day to describe the junk we walk through to get over our exes. But the exciting part is this… I think I've stumbled on to something. It could be a stretch, or it could be in genius. Hear me out, lady friends. I think, just maybe, it is actually a pride issue. When I first popped this pill in my mouth, it was bitter and hard to swallow. I’ve got a list of insecurities a mile long. How does it even make sense that pride would be the root of my break up hang up? To answer this, I’ll have to expose a little of myself here. This is the part that I try to hold tightly to when posting on a social network for all to see. Who wants to admit they are walking around wounded? Not I, said the pride.
There are two men in my adult life that I can’t seem to dismiss. Now, I have nothing bad to say about either one of them; the opposite, actually. I seem to only remember the good stuff. I shake my fist at you, selective memory. All I know is that they both liked me a lot and then seemingly overnight, not so much. It’s confusing and depressing all wrapped up in one burrito.
The rational side of my brain recognizes that with one of these guys, I built him up to be my very own grown up Aladdin. Aladdin was always my favorite. Mostly because Jasmine was the only Disney princess I even remotely looked like but, also because he was dangerous, had a magic carpet and the kingdom at his finger tips. Boy #1 offered up a whole new world, a new fantastic point of view. (Are you singing the song with me yet?) The magical Disney moment passes and I realize, I looked to this young man to be my absolute savior from… myself. I didn’t blame him one bit as I watched him exit quickly, carpet tassels flapping in the wind. I was young and silly. Pride won’t let me take a step further. And here’s why. Somewhere deep down I have to believe I am something great and irreplaceable. That’s why it’s incomprehensible that he is not trying to ‘look me up’ or reply to my breezy facebook messages. Its pride AND insecurity. I have a feeling there is a lethal relationship here that I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of.
Boy #2 (let’s all pretend we don’t know who this one is). I had to take a few long breaths here to even muster up the courage to unpack this lovely present. I’ve never been tackled by a professional linebacker, but I’ve experienced the painful aftermath. Unlike the last example, this one didn’t unfold so pleasantly and wasn’t as easy to predict. Think more… car accident. I’m jamming out to the radio. Seconds later, I’m flipping through the air and meeting what feels like my fatal demise. Craziest thing… the wound looks almost the same. He doesn’t return my texts, or put forth any effort to be friends. It hurts something bad to lose a best friend. And I find myself wishing upon all wishes to go back to the friendship stage of that relationship. If only we could’ve stayed there. I’d be spared of the hurt and the new void. He’d still be here to make me laugh and hang my Ikea pot rack.
This is when I first realized the pattern. This is me recognizing the wound needs to be cleaned up (even if it stings) and then properly medicated. To do this, I will attempt to self diagnose. Then, we operate.
I’ve talked about this before. I wished I was more like a dude, instead of wondering and pining over all the things I did wrong. I’ve heard it said before that men are like dresser drawers. They can close up shop to an emotion or an event and completely function on to the next. When I get dumped, it spills over into every single smelly square footage of my life. I get intensely hung up on closure. I seek it out from the handlers of my brokenness. It’s like I’m screaming out… desperate to make sense of it all. They’ve dumped me, so I’m convinced there is something wrong with me. Insecurity. But, then I think if they just get a taste of how witty and great I was/am then there’d be no need for closure. Instead, they’d remember they are still in love with me and recognize they won’t find better. Pride. What a nasty cycle. It’s about to be a broken cycle.
I’m leaving all my shame and graveling at the feet of my ghost of boyfriends past. As much as I hoped for a different outcome to both stories, I am finally learning from them so it doesn’t seem such a waste. For now, I’ll just hope they’re single longer than I. And that I some how profit big time from them breaking my silly little heart. Dare I say, best seller?
Dearest friend, if you're out there still hung up on the ending of something mediocre... let it stop today. Or at least start walking in a new direction with me. If we're honest, I mean really honest... is it the boy we're still hung up on? Or could it be the rejection we've been handed that dinged our ego? If you think I'm way off, humor me with a quick example to prove my point. I can't even name the number of times I've seen this played out in my own life and the lives around me. You are halfheartedly flirting around with a boy. He's shorter than you'd like, or maybe wears funny shoes. You don't really care too much for him and you maybe even have a few others like him on the side. But a pretty girl writes on his facebook wall. Or suddenly one too many of your calls have gone to voice mail. Is your blood pressure rising from recognition? What seems like overnight we are obsessed with a boy, we didn't actually even like to begin with. It's the game. It's the loss of our pride that feeds the insecurity and blossoms into a big heaping disaster of poo. Somehow, we're devastated and chasing a guy that is less than desirable, all because he breathed a breath of abandonment.
Catch it right now. Put it outside and hope it curls up and dies somewhere. We're better than this. I promise. Do you believe it? Of course you do. Don't try to bail ship because you're keeping score with "him", but do it because you're trusting God for a better YOU.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Poker Face.
I was dealt a hand in marriage that, fortunately enough, I was able to fold on early in the game. I mean, if we want to get technical, I think in this case, God folded my hand for me. If you’ve never played poker with me you should know, I’ll win every time… the first time. I won good money from tough boys in college. The first game is always mine. And then they learn after I take their money that all I have is luck and the ability to lie through my teeth. This strategy only works for a time. More hands than I can count, I kept betting money on a lie. The pot got bigger. My chips were bleeding into the center of the table. I was in it to win it… until I lost. I’ve said it many times before, I would have gone down with the (relation)ship I was in. Clever, huh? It’s sad, but true. At the time, I was betting a “winning” hand. Looking over my shoulder I was nothing short of delusional. Except my redemption in poker chips, was served out by my Savior. I am a lucky, thankful, gracious young lady. It hurt bad and I lost big. But it could’ve been far worse. I could have been married to the game.
I am going to tread lightly here and I hope you’ll give me the grace to not drown in your misinterpretation. I sent questions out to a group of amazing women. It just so happens a majority of the women in my life are married, so the results will statistically swing that way. I sent it to successful women, corporate women, world’s best mom women, gorgeous women, creative women, exceptional wives, role models and exciting singles; though I still believe every thing about them, I got answers back from broken women leaning on a perfect Lord.
This whole process has got me thinking, we are a wounded bunch of birds. I mean, really. We are hobbling around with broken wings. Some of us have been hit by cars, others of us shaken out of a tree by a careless boy. It also made me realize this single girl has got IT made. I opened up a letter from a married friend. It brought me to my knees in tears. Another one. I broke again. And again. I spoke with a dear friend recently, who has walked through an unimaginable heartbreak. As I listened to her tragic story unfold I was hit with so many different emotions: Anger towards the person who had wronged her so horribly, sadness knowing she had to carry such a weight, and admiration for a woman with so much integrity and strength to stand amidst the wreckage of what justifiably could've send her straight to the couch under the covers never to return. (That's where you could find me.) The worst part of it all? I could copy and paste that last sentence over again for far too many of my incredibly resilient friends.
I mailed out empty envelopes and they have come back to me with lyrics to songs of strong women walking through some pretty tough, pretty yucky stuff. I have found myself on my knees in prayer more times since picking the brains of my loved ones, then maybe ever. I had absolutely no idea what God would throw at me on this journey. No idea. Here's what I do know.. I sought out on this road to break up recovery expecting to arrive at emotional health. I am on a mission to security and I’m not stopping for potty breaks. I'm so close I can almost taste it, but I need you to jump with me. I might even share my beef jerky. (An indisputable must have for any roadtrip, sorry.)
Here’s where I’ll need the grace. Though, I broke for some of my single friends, their replies just read differently. They echoed with excitement and fear. Kind of like traveling to a new state, I live for the adventure and excitement of it all. I thrive on it, actually. Every single lady desires an adoring husband. And our tears are split over nothing more than our boy-less existence. I love my single ladies. But I have GOT to make it clear. We have the light load. Did you hear that? Do you believe it? If life were a puzzle, we’d have the one for ages 4 and under. Marriage is awesomely tough. We are sinners, there is no way around it.
And please hear me. I’m not sweeping that precious unmarried heart of yours under the rug. Girl, I’m single. I get it. But we don’t get it… if ya get me? Got it? I’ve learned a couple things on this trip. I have no business writing to the married heart. How could I even attempt it? I won’t even try. Next, I could get red in the face with excitement talking about how we should be SEIZING THIS SEASON, ladies. If you were next to me, I'd shake you until your eyeballs popped out. I won't let go until you believe it too!
If you already knew this. You're far wiser than I. I believed for 26 years married people are lucky and a group to be hated, envied and the like. They have nothing to be sad about. Me, with out the ring? Now that was something to shed tears over. Let's just say the 'me today', wishes she could flick the 'me then' in the forehead.
As I drove home tonight, radio off, windows down… it hit me. I have heard one too many stories of us getting let down, experiencing a broken heart, shattered dream, someone we love saying the wrong thing, or walking away, a brutal rejection, he cheated, he lied, he was emotionally abusive, or emotionally absent and the grotesque list goes on. This is not a boy bash session. That is not and will never be my heart. I love boys. I fall in love often and fast. Boys are lovely and exciting. I can't wait to meet the lucky guy who gets stuck with my vivid imagination and love of facebook self portraits. But tonight truth washed over me and I smiled big. God will never hurt me. It’s just not going to happen. I will never be able to say that He checked off one of the wrongs listed above. I will never cry myself to sleep over a God who doesn’t pursue me, or love me. He does not reject or walk away. He can’t lie and He won’t cheat. I am blessed to be romanced by a freakin’ stud.
This season is one to be savored like a big bowl of ice cream. Girl, grab a spoon.
I am going to tread lightly here and I hope you’ll give me the grace to not drown in your misinterpretation. I sent questions out to a group of amazing women. It just so happens a majority of the women in my life are married, so the results will statistically swing that way. I sent it to successful women, corporate women, world’s best mom women, gorgeous women, creative women, exceptional wives, role models and exciting singles; though I still believe every thing about them, I got answers back from broken women leaning on a perfect Lord.
This whole process has got me thinking, we are a wounded bunch of birds. I mean, really. We are hobbling around with broken wings. Some of us have been hit by cars, others of us shaken out of a tree by a careless boy. It also made me realize this single girl has got IT made. I opened up a letter from a married friend. It brought me to my knees in tears. Another one. I broke again. And again. I spoke with a dear friend recently, who has walked through an unimaginable heartbreak. As I listened to her tragic story unfold I was hit with so many different emotions: Anger towards the person who had wronged her so horribly, sadness knowing she had to carry such a weight, and admiration for a woman with so much integrity and strength to stand amidst the wreckage of what justifiably could've send her straight to the couch under the covers never to return. (That's where you could find me.) The worst part of it all? I could copy and paste that last sentence over again for far too many of my incredibly resilient friends.
I mailed out empty envelopes and they have come back to me with lyrics to songs of strong women walking through some pretty tough, pretty yucky stuff. I have found myself on my knees in prayer more times since picking the brains of my loved ones, then maybe ever. I had absolutely no idea what God would throw at me on this journey. No idea. Here's what I do know.. I sought out on this road to break up recovery expecting to arrive at emotional health. I am on a mission to security and I’m not stopping for potty breaks. I'm so close I can almost taste it, but I need you to jump with me. I might even share my beef jerky. (An indisputable must have for any roadtrip, sorry.)
Here’s where I’ll need the grace. Though, I broke for some of my single friends, their replies just read differently. They echoed with excitement and fear. Kind of like traveling to a new state, I live for the adventure and excitement of it all. I thrive on it, actually. Every single lady desires an adoring husband. And our tears are split over nothing more than our boy-less existence. I love my single ladies. But I have GOT to make it clear. We have the light load. Did you hear that? Do you believe it? If life were a puzzle, we’d have the one for ages 4 and under. Marriage is awesomely tough. We are sinners, there is no way around it.
And please hear me. I’m not sweeping that precious unmarried heart of yours under the rug. Girl, I’m single. I get it. But we don’t get it… if ya get me? Got it? I’ve learned a couple things on this trip. I have no business writing to the married heart. How could I even attempt it? I won’t even try. Next, I could get red in the face with excitement talking about how we should be SEIZING THIS SEASON, ladies. If you were next to me, I'd shake you until your eyeballs popped out. I won't let go until you believe it too!
If you already knew this. You're far wiser than I. I believed for 26 years married people are lucky and a group to be hated, envied and the like. They have nothing to be sad about. Me, with out the ring? Now that was something to shed tears over. Let's just say the 'me today', wishes she could flick the 'me then' in the forehead.
As I drove home tonight, radio off, windows down… it hit me. I have heard one too many stories of us getting let down, experiencing a broken heart, shattered dream, someone we love saying the wrong thing, or walking away, a brutal rejection, he cheated, he lied, he was emotionally abusive, or emotionally absent and the grotesque list goes on. This is not a boy bash session. That is not and will never be my heart. I love boys. I fall in love often and fast. Boys are lovely and exciting. I can't wait to meet the lucky guy who gets stuck with my vivid imagination and love of facebook self portraits. But tonight truth washed over me and I smiled big. God will never hurt me. It’s just not going to happen. I will never be able to say that He checked off one of the wrongs listed above. I will never cry myself to sleep over a God who doesn’t pursue me, or love me. He does not reject or walk away. He can’t lie and He won’t cheat. I am blessed to be romanced by a freakin’ stud.
This season is one to be savored like a big bowl of ice cream. Girl, grab a spoon.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Do they make antibiotics for CRAZY?
Do they make antibiotics for CRAZY?
I’m going to step on toes, most of them mine. Here’s the deal, lovelies… We’re crazy. It’s true. You know it and if you disagree you’re probably still in Stage One: denial. Stay tuned I’ll start shining the flash light in the dark un-talked about places in the backwoods of relationships. Hear me out, if I guy tries to call us out, we’ll go to bat for each other. Girls aren’t crazy, guys are dumb. But, if it’s just us sitting around a tub of ice cream, girl, you KNOW that to which what I am speaking of.
Maybe not, though. Maybe you’re different than me. Let’s try on a couple scenarios from my personal memory bank and see where you rank on the rector scale’o’needy.
You’re dating a boy. Friday is here. You know he’s free. You know, most likely, he plans on spending it with you. There you sit in front of your computer screen at work dreaming up all the fun romantic things he could plan, or ways he could surprise you. The time clock runs out and now you’re at home awaiting his phone call. Maybe you wait for a while, maybe not for long. But you’ve made up your mind he needs to be the one to call. Right? If he wants it, he’ll call. If you have to call him, you’re admitting you like him more. No lady likes looking in the mirror and seeing the aggressor starring back at her. No thank you. I’ll just wait. I’ll walk around with the phone to my forehead waiting for his call. I’ll check my service often. I might even dial out once or twice to make sure everything is ship shape and running smoothly. But I definitely don’t stare at the phone begging it to ring. Okay, yes. Maybe I do.
The crazy starts to inch its way in.
He calls. He small talks. He asks you about your day, but you’ve already set up this invisible standard for him to meet. So you mistakenly look right over his sweet concern. You can almost see red, but you try to reel it in. You're breezy.
He talks more and about nothing, at least nothing concerning your upcoming dinner by the sea and dessert painted sunset sky.
You are, at this point, convinced he has no interest in you. He doesn’t even like you. You are wasting your time. He is just going to end up breaking your heart somewhere down the road, probably like the last guy. And maybe you’ve not only stuck a sword in it, but twist it a little with the notion that you can surely do better.
Keep in mind, boyfriend has no idea what is going down in that precious, yet psychotic head of yours. His flight deck shows all signs are green for take off. Skies are blue and the air smells sweet. You, on the other hand, have rather quickly radioed ground control and informed them of the raised terror alert. He has gone from blue (guarded) to orange (high) in a few short seconds. Unfortunately for this pilot, he is about to have the wind removed from his under his wings and he has absolutely no idea.
Now this pretend scenario could go many ways. All of them will merit fairly the same crazed response, but for the sake of personal recognition I’ll paint a few canvases.
“Hey, I think some of us guys are going to see a baseball game.” This could even be followed by an invitation extended for you to come along, but you will have NONE of it. He’s made his decision. Clearly his friends are more important than you.
“I can’t wait to see you. What do you want to do tonight?” He is a jerk and he NEVER plans anything. You are completely carrying the weight of this relationship on your shoulders and he couldn’t care less.
“I have a paper to write before Monday and I haven’t started it.” How dare he not prioritize his life better? Now he is wasting your time. This relationship is clearly and hugely a waste of your time.
“Want to grab some Moe’s and then see a movie?” You love burritos and you should be ecstatic the kid even planned something, but will you appreciate it? Nope. Because earlier today you put all your betting chips in the romantic basket and this falls short, way short.
You feel the insecurity rise up in your throat. You see the whole thing play out like a movie, yet you are powerless to hit eject, pause, rewind… anything. It proceeds before you like a smoke billowing locomotive with faulty brakes.
You handed him an imaginary (to him) pop quiz and he failed. Nonetheless very soon after one of the above responses make it out of his mouth he’s met with a dart right to his temple. He shakes it off, dazed and confused by it all, he continues on in oblivion. You hurl another dart, angry that the first one didn’t do the trick. This one hits him between the eyes and he realizes, he is clueless as to why, but he knows he made a wrong turn somewhere. The good ones will desperately try to swerve out of the oncoming traffic, understanding this can only lead to a fatality. His.
But, none of these are you, right? Ha. I suspect the men we date are on their feet at this point recalling a painful, yet similar occurrence they themselves have experienced.
I don’t know what form of mud you’ll drag him through, but it never ends pretty.
Or what about the time you got upset because he plopped down on the loveseat before the movie started, instead of the couch where you’d both fit more comfortably? Instead of pointing him in the direction of the couch, or cuddling up to him on the love seat… you stomp your feet all the way to the furthest seat.
Or how about when he’s knee deep in a poker game with friends and instead of being dealt in, or playing a supporting role you sit in another room pouting waiting impatiently for him to realize you’re missing.
I could write of these all day. I’ve lived in this city, even purchased a home here. It’s a little town I like to call “insecture”. Yep. I made that up. It’s a cross between insecure and immature and it was invented in my head at approximately 2am, for this I apologize.
This multi-case recollection has gotten wordy. The goal tonight was to meet you where you are… or in my case ‘was’, and hope never to be again. I write, if for nothing else, so that someone can maybe hopefully learn from my stupor. I have had more than my share of relationship blunders. I intend to share every painful, silly and embarrassing one with you. Will you please see me for the schmuck I was and intensely inspire to be different? I know this writing venture will be a guide I hope to look to and remember in my next relationship, I have the potential to discern the crazy. Hope is not lost.
Tonight, we recognize. Tomorrow, we defeat.
Goodnight, my beautiful crazies.
I’m going to step on toes, most of them mine. Here’s the deal, lovelies… We’re crazy. It’s true. You know it and if you disagree you’re probably still in Stage One: denial. Stay tuned I’ll start shining the flash light in the dark un-talked about places in the backwoods of relationships. Hear me out, if I guy tries to call us out, we’ll go to bat for each other. Girls aren’t crazy, guys are dumb. But, if it’s just us sitting around a tub of ice cream, girl, you KNOW that to which what I am speaking of.
Maybe not, though. Maybe you’re different than me. Let’s try on a couple scenarios from my personal memory bank and see where you rank on the rector scale’o’needy.
You’re dating a boy. Friday is here. You know he’s free. You know, most likely, he plans on spending it with you. There you sit in front of your computer screen at work dreaming up all the fun romantic things he could plan, or ways he could surprise you. The time clock runs out and now you’re at home awaiting his phone call. Maybe you wait for a while, maybe not for long. But you’ve made up your mind he needs to be the one to call. Right? If he wants it, he’ll call. If you have to call him, you’re admitting you like him more. No lady likes looking in the mirror and seeing the aggressor starring back at her. No thank you. I’ll just wait. I’ll walk around with the phone to my forehead waiting for his call. I’ll check my service often. I might even dial out once or twice to make sure everything is ship shape and running smoothly. But I definitely don’t stare at the phone begging it to ring. Okay, yes. Maybe I do.
The crazy starts to inch its way in.
He calls. He small talks. He asks you about your day, but you’ve already set up this invisible standard for him to meet. So you mistakenly look right over his sweet concern. You can almost see red, but you try to reel it in. You're breezy.
He talks more and about nothing, at least nothing concerning your upcoming dinner by the sea and dessert painted sunset sky.
You are, at this point, convinced he has no interest in you. He doesn’t even like you. You are wasting your time. He is just going to end up breaking your heart somewhere down the road, probably like the last guy. And maybe you’ve not only stuck a sword in it, but twist it a little with the notion that you can surely do better.
Keep in mind, boyfriend has no idea what is going down in that precious, yet psychotic head of yours. His flight deck shows all signs are green for take off. Skies are blue and the air smells sweet. You, on the other hand, have rather quickly radioed ground control and informed them of the raised terror alert. He has gone from blue (guarded) to orange (high) in a few short seconds. Unfortunately for this pilot, he is about to have the wind removed from his under his wings and he has absolutely no idea.
Now this pretend scenario could go many ways. All of them will merit fairly the same crazed response, but for the sake of personal recognition I’ll paint a few canvases.
“Hey, I think some of us guys are going to see a baseball game.” This could even be followed by an invitation extended for you to come along, but you will have NONE of it. He’s made his decision. Clearly his friends are more important than you.
“I can’t wait to see you. What do you want to do tonight?” He is a jerk and he NEVER plans anything. You are completely carrying the weight of this relationship on your shoulders and he couldn’t care less.
“I have a paper to write before Monday and I haven’t started it.” How dare he not prioritize his life better? Now he is wasting your time. This relationship is clearly and hugely a waste of your time.
“Want to grab some Moe’s and then see a movie?” You love burritos and you should be ecstatic the kid even planned something, but will you appreciate it? Nope. Because earlier today you put all your betting chips in the romantic basket and this falls short, way short.
You feel the insecurity rise up in your throat. You see the whole thing play out like a movie, yet you are powerless to hit eject, pause, rewind… anything. It proceeds before you like a smoke billowing locomotive with faulty brakes.
You handed him an imaginary (to him) pop quiz and he failed. Nonetheless very soon after one of the above responses make it out of his mouth he’s met with a dart right to his temple. He shakes it off, dazed and confused by it all, he continues on in oblivion. You hurl another dart, angry that the first one didn’t do the trick. This one hits him between the eyes and he realizes, he is clueless as to why, but he knows he made a wrong turn somewhere. The good ones will desperately try to swerve out of the oncoming traffic, understanding this can only lead to a fatality. His.
But, none of these are you, right? Ha. I suspect the men we date are on their feet at this point recalling a painful, yet similar occurrence they themselves have experienced.
I don’t know what form of mud you’ll drag him through, but it never ends pretty.
Or what about the time you got upset because he plopped down on the loveseat before the movie started, instead of the couch where you’d both fit more comfortably? Instead of pointing him in the direction of the couch, or cuddling up to him on the love seat… you stomp your feet all the way to the furthest seat.
Or how about when he’s knee deep in a poker game with friends and instead of being dealt in, or playing a supporting role you sit in another room pouting waiting impatiently for him to realize you’re missing.
I could write of these all day. I’ve lived in this city, even purchased a home here. It’s a little town I like to call “insecture”. Yep. I made that up. It’s a cross between insecure and immature and it was invented in my head at approximately 2am, for this I apologize.
This multi-case recollection has gotten wordy. The goal tonight was to meet you where you are… or in my case ‘was’, and hope never to be again. I write, if for nothing else, so that someone can maybe hopefully learn from my stupor. I have had more than my share of relationship blunders. I intend to share every painful, silly and embarrassing one with you. Will you please see me for the schmuck I was and intensely inspire to be different? I know this writing venture will be a guide I hope to look to and remember in my next relationship, I have the potential to discern the crazy. Hope is not lost.
Tonight, we recognize. Tomorrow, we defeat.
Goodnight, my beautiful crazies.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Researching the woman's heart.
I have been humbled to receive your answers in the mail. I assumed I’d know all the responses and that nothing would catch me off guard, but we are so ridiculously and wonderfully made. One of the small lessons I’ve picked up on this search, is that while each of our struggles are uniquely different, our hearts seem to be singing the same song. We’re each just singing different parts of the song and all at the same time so it’s harder to notice. I won’t be diving deep into this “theory”, just yet. Because frankly I wouldn’t be so sure I’d surface. The depth of a woman’s heart is bottomless, me thinks. However, I wanted to make a few profound (at least to me) observations.
Observation number one. There is something to be said about a woman who is knee deep in something she is passionate about. Maybe I over did it on the ‘something’ but she is outstandingly different then her peers. She stands a little taller and has an amazing pair of rose colored glasses. She doesn’t wear them everyday, but she at least owns a pair and looks great in them. Just think, if I can pick this up in her writing, I’m confident boys can smell it. This says to me, we should seek passion and pursue it. As long as said passion isn’t, let’s say… stripping.
Awful joke. Moving on.
Write down on a piece of paper what you enjoy doing. Or maybe what you’re good at, even a hobby that you’re awful at, but really want to be good at. For me, this is running. The awful at it part, anyway… definitely not the passionate part, unless you count how passionate I am about not wanting to be running as I’m running.
My serious answers would be writing, photography, and traveling. Yes, these are a few of my favorite things. I add a couple years to my life as I read that sentence over and over. (For the sake of not appearing like a sloth, I did not include my forbidden love of sleeping in this list.) When it comes to the pursuit of my above mentioned happiness, I would say, I am attacked often and from every angle.
I write good. Who even says that? Not authors, they would say, they write ‘well’. The dream of writing my own book is even a prideful, yet embarrassing thing to announce. I’m implying I think people care about what I have to say and that it would be worth a hard earned hour of pay for them to purchase. So, I shouldn’t write. And I go months or even years doing, (or is it not doing?), just that.
Photography. You must know, that I could never shoot a wedding. This object on my list goes hand in hand with the other love of my life, vacations. I really like photography when the things I’m taking pictures of don’t need any editing or an explanatory caption. (But because of the whole liking to write thing, you’re probably going to get a caption.) This is why I come back from Haiti with 500 pictures on my memory card, or how I managed to take 52 pictures in seven minutes of the sun rising over the rim of the Grand Canyon.
I could speak of these moments all day. But, you don’t want to hear it, let alone read it. And only the really lucky people get to make money doing it. So it gets buried by a 9 to 5er. There is a Donald Miller quote that I’ve kept with me for sometime, it goes something like this… “The devil’s greatest trick is not to have us falling into some great sin, but rather have us wasting time.” I might’ve butchered the quote because I was too lazy to look it up, however it falls in line behind the entire book of Ecclesiastes. Solomon, the wise, says 1453 times (I made that part up) that everything is meaningless and a ‘chasing after the wind’. I picture us all running around chasing the wind and not in a good way, in a very exhausting, out of breath way.
Back to the paved road we were on… I think you can see a difference in the woman who has started her own business or who is making a difference in the lives of the kids she’s pouring into. A woman doing what God has gifted her to be doing is like a lily among the fields; easy to point out, be picked, and then put in a vase to be marveled at and delighted in.
My next discovery has been our uncanny ability to find beauty in most things, unless of course we’re speaking of ourselves… then it’s a mystery. I won’t stay at this point long, because I don’t have a solution yet. Not even close. Just observing for now, though I’m pretty sure a guy can smell this too. Their choosing of a mate just depends on which one of us stinks less. Most of us are good, or think we are, at covering up this smell. I was told before and not nicely, that I have a ‘go away’ sign on my forehead when I walk into a room of men. This was not his choice of words, I took it upon myself to remove the profanities, I don’t even recall who told me this, but regardless I was blown away. I can’t think of a time in my life that I’ve ever been “secure” enough to think that highly of myself. Not even right out of high school when I was sadly, the closest I’ll ever be to having wash board abs. But after some examination of myself and others, I realize we’re (most days, that is) good at faking it. And if we’re having an extra hard time faking it, we’ll just critique the other women in the room. Don’t you point that finger of judgment at me, you KNOW what I’m saying is true.
Now where was I going? Oh yes, we stink of insecurity but we wear a perfume to mask it, though heaven forbid we run out or forget to put it on one day. Sometimes at the bottom of a really good self loathing session I couldn’t find a teaspoon of beauty if I had all day to look in the mirror. But, in two seconds of walking into a room of some of my favorite ladies, I can spot it in their faces, outfits and adorable handbags.
My next and greatest gender generalization of the day is that God pursues every one of us. He has fallen for us and fallen hard. Do you feel pursued by God? Romanced by God? Every single answer to that question has been an unwavering yes. This tells me one of two things: we’re really good at saying all the right things or there is an amazing thing to be unwrapped here. I picture the most tragic of love triangles playing out. I can recognize it, because I have lived it. We want be pursued by Johnny Doe. And Johnny Doe might be a swell guy, but if I’ve learned anything from our responses, it’s that even the best guy can still fall a little short on a bad day. I’m being nice here. Some guys fall a lotta short on their very best day (another day, another book).
God is the guy we call, after we just got stood up for the Prom. And He’s at our house in two seconds because He was really waiting outside in the rain the whole time for you to wise up and call. It’s ridiculous yet we do it everyday. We can all recognize He’s there, always ready to swoop in and clean up the mess from some careless (or even oblivious) boy. We know this. And I’m afraid to admit, we probably take advantage of this. Actually, I’m sure of it. I think husband or no husband… when we start to get pumped about God as our Prom date we’ll be able to toss the waterproof mascara.
I think I might’ve hit my word quota for the afternoon, because I am unable to wrap this up cleverly. I used whatever creative juices I had left on my Prom date analogy. But, I wanted to thank those of you who have participated so far, yell at those who haven’t replied yet and encourage those who might stumble upon this blogish ramble.
I also wanted to announce that I’ve had some cream of the crop men agree to having their brains picked for a good cause. If I pull off a book one day, I would LOOOOVE to unveil a ‘men tell all’ sort of chapter. I know we can be insane, emotional and a little reckless at times, but what I really want to know is how to trick a guy into loving me regardless. I kid. But really.
Ladies, here is your chance to volunteer a question you might have about the man psyche. Surveys are going out soon, so hurry it up if you want me to squeeze one of your questions in.
Observation number one. There is something to be said about a woman who is knee deep in something she is passionate about. Maybe I over did it on the ‘something’ but she is outstandingly different then her peers. She stands a little taller and has an amazing pair of rose colored glasses. She doesn’t wear them everyday, but she at least owns a pair and looks great in them. Just think, if I can pick this up in her writing, I’m confident boys can smell it. This says to me, we should seek passion and pursue it. As long as said passion isn’t, let’s say… stripping.
Awful joke. Moving on.
Write down on a piece of paper what you enjoy doing. Or maybe what you’re good at, even a hobby that you’re awful at, but really want to be good at. For me, this is running. The awful at it part, anyway… definitely not the passionate part, unless you count how passionate I am about not wanting to be running as I’m running.
My serious answers would be writing, photography, and traveling. Yes, these are a few of my favorite things. I add a couple years to my life as I read that sentence over and over. (For the sake of not appearing like a sloth, I did not include my forbidden love of sleeping in this list.) When it comes to the pursuit of my above mentioned happiness, I would say, I am attacked often and from every angle.
I write good. Who even says that? Not authors, they would say, they write ‘well’. The dream of writing my own book is even a prideful, yet embarrassing thing to announce. I’m implying I think people care about what I have to say and that it would be worth a hard earned hour of pay for them to purchase. So, I shouldn’t write. And I go months or even years doing, (or is it not doing?), just that.
Photography. You must know, that I could never shoot a wedding. This object on my list goes hand in hand with the other love of my life, vacations. I really like photography when the things I’m taking pictures of don’t need any editing or an explanatory caption. (But because of the whole liking to write thing, you’re probably going to get a caption.) This is why I come back from Haiti with 500 pictures on my memory card, or how I managed to take 52 pictures in seven minutes of the sun rising over the rim of the Grand Canyon.
I could speak of these moments all day. But, you don’t want to hear it, let alone read it. And only the really lucky people get to make money doing it. So it gets buried by a 9 to 5er. There is a Donald Miller quote that I’ve kept with me for sometime, it goes something like this… “The devil’s greatest trick is not to have us falling into some great sin, but rather have us wasting time.” I might’ve butchered the quote because I was too lazy to look it up, however it falls in line behind the entire book of Ecclesiastes. Solomon, the wise, says 1453 times (I made that part up) that everything is meaningless and a ‘chasing after the wind’. I picture us all running around chasing the wind and not in a good way, in a very exhausting, out of breath way.
Back to the paved road we were on… I think you can see a difference in the woman who has started her own business or who is making a difference in the lives of the kids she’s pouring into. A woman doing what God has gifted her to be doing is like a lily among the fields; easy to point out, be picked, and then put in a vase to be marveled at and delighted in.
My next discovery has been our uncanny ability to find beauty in most things, unless of course we’re speaking of ourselves… then it’s a mystery. I won’t stay at this point long, because I don’t have a solution yet. Not even close. Just observing for now, though I’m pretty sure a guy can smell this too. Their choosing of a mate just depends on which one of us stinks less. Most of us are good, or think we are, at covering up this smell. I was told before and not nicely, that I have a ‘go away’ sign on my forehead when I walk into a room of men. This was not his choice of words, I took it upon myself to remove the profanities, I don’t even recall who told me this, but regardless I was blown away. I can’t think of a time in my life that I’ve ever been “secure” enough to think that highly of myself. Not even right out of high school when I was sadly, the closest I’ll ever be to having wash board abs. But after some examination of myself and others, I realize we’re (most days, that is) good at faking it. And if we’re having an extra hard time faking it, we’ll just critique the other women in the room. Don’t you point that finger of judgment at me, you KNOW what I’m saying is true.
Now where was I going? Oh yes, we stink of insecurity but we wear a perfume to mask it, though heaven forbid we run out or forget to put it on one day. Sometimes at the bottom of a really good self loathing session I couldn’t find a teaspoon of beauty if I had all day to look in the mirror. But, in two seconds of walking into a room of some of my favorite ladies, I can spot it in their faces, outfits and adorable handbags.
My next and greatest gender generalization of the day is that God pursues every one of us. He has fallen for us and fallen hard. Do you feel pursued by God? Romanced by God? Every single answer to that question has been an unwavering yes. This tells me one of two things: we’re really good at saying all the right things or there is an amazing thing to be unwrapped here. I picture the most tragic of love triangles playing out. I can recognize it, because I have lived it. We want be pursued by Johnny Doe. And Johnny Doe might be a swell guy, but if I’ve learned anything from our responses, it’s that even the best guy can still fall a little short on a bad day. I’m being nice here. Some guys fall a lotta short on their very best day (another day, another book).
God is the guy we call, after we just got stood up for the Prom. And He’s at our house in two seconds because He was really waiting outside in the rain the whole time for you to wise up and call. It’s ridiculous yet we do it everyday. We can all recognize He’s there, always ready to swoop in and clean up the mess from some careless (or even oblivious) boy. We know this. And I’m afraid to admit, we probably take advantage of this. Actually, I’m sure of it. I think husband or no husband… when we start to get pumped about God as our Prom date we’ll be able to toss the waterproof mascara.
I think I might’ve hit my word quota for the afternoon, because I am unable to wrap this up cleverly. I used whatever creative juices I had left on my Prom date analogy. But, I wanted to thank those of you who have participated so far, yell at those who haven’t replied yet and encourage those who might stumble upon this blogish ramble.
I also wanted to announce that I’ve had some cream of the crop men agree to having their brains picked for a good cause. If I pull off a book one day, I would LOOOOVE to unveil a ‘men tell all’ sort of chapter. I know we can be insane, emotional and a little reckless at times, but what I really want to know is how to trick a guy into loving me regardless. I kid. But really.
Ladies, here is your chance to volunteer a question you might have about the man psyche. Surveys are going out soon, so hurry it up if you want me to squeeze one of your questions in.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The case for singleness.
Hey there ladies, can you do me a favor? Stop taking the break ups personally. I feel like guys don’t struggle with this. They seem to have a good grasp on all the other fish in the sea. But nope. Not us. We eat ice cream and cry ourselves to sleep wondering ‘what the heck is wrong with me?’. There is a scene in one of my favorite movies where one of the lead characters has just found out her husband is cheating on her. She is devastated but rationalizes her husband’s behavior and blames herself. She wasn’t as fun as she once was. She rushed him to get married and a long list of other inadequacies that led to his justified betrayal.
I’ve lost count of the tears spilled wondering where I went wrong. I was too much, or not enough. I did too much of this, but not enough of that. I’m not cured of this thinking, but geesh, do I want to be!
I read a study one time that stumbled upon the differences between men and women regarding their specific relationship fears. The women polled in this particular study claimed their worst fear was never getting married. The men in the study, however, were scared of marrying the wrong person. Why do you think that is? I won’t pretend to understand why men will struggle here. But, I hate that our brains don’t operate more like theirs. Instead Satan whispers, “you’ll always be alone”. And we believe it. The men can rationally recognize they will one day, in fact, drink from the cup of marriage. I imagine their fear dives deeper than I plan on going, but for arguments sake; why is it we focus more on whether we’ll be “enough”, instead of flipping the measuring stick around on the men?
I believe the deceiver has wrecked our gender with this very specific attack. He has convinced us in every area, we are completely and absolutely unworthy of everything. Our punishment? A life of singlehood to reflect on all the ways we have ever fallen short. Until recently the thought of ‘marrying the wrong guy’ never even crossed my mind. Does he love me? Great. Clearly, he’s the right one. That was easy.
The message we, as women, hear the world screaming in our ear is that we are second-class citizens if we have yet to land a rock on that pesky little ring finger. I am beyond guilty of buying into this thinking. If this message was on a shirt, it’d probably be in my closet in every color and cleverly accessorized. I am also, painfully aware of the fact this isn’t an imaginary message, or even a subliminal one, for that matter. Life begins at love. Then comes marriage. You see this in movies, books, and in the life of everyone around you. It is common knowledge that being single is lame. But, marriage is hard and certainly not something to be made worthy of an idol. That, nonetheless, we will keep to a whisper.
It’s like running a 5K. All the cool, in shape people are doing it. They’ll boast of their times and which ones they’ve competed in. They’ll even proudly display a picture of them with relatively no sweat on their brow. Their arms are raised high and they have a champion smile cherry on top. I like cherries. That looks great and I definitely want a neat picture like that. But, nobody talks about the energy spent training up to that moment when you dodge puking and don’t have to ice your knees after. Of course not. That part is hard work. That part sucks. We don’t race to race, we race to finish. For far too long, I’ve believed in a marriage finish line. Everybody come look at how good-looking my husband is. Doesn’t our story make you so jealous? Have you seen my ring? I stayed skinny throughout my pregnancy and my kids are contest worthy cute. I have never had any interest in training. Instead, I just wanted to finish.
It’s almost blasphemous to speak against marriage. Marriage is ordained by God. It was not good for Adam to be alone. Two is better than one. But it was brought to my attention, in a Tom Ascol sermon this weekend at Providence Church, that… are you sitting down? Marriage is important, but not ultimate. SINGLENESS is also ordained by God and this path less traveled, in the apostle Paul’s opinion, is by far the way to go.
Paul is not for or against marriage. Paul is not for or against singleness. And he makes it appropriately known that Jesus hadn’t spoken specifically on the subject, either. Yet, in 1 Corinthians, Paul is simply offering up his own opinions or, what I like to call, ‘The Case For Singleness’. In chapter 7, Paul begins to spell out reasons why we shouldn’t operate as if singleness is just a season we endure until our number comes up. Rather, it is something to be cherished and chosen.
My favorite and most convicting reason called to light in Paul’s letter, regarding seizing our single season (say that five times fast), is that we have the opportunity right now to pursue God with undivided interests and energies. Single means I am able to seek and serve the Lord completely and without distraction. It will only get harder from this point. Instead of being concerned with matters of the Lord, I’ll eventually be commanded by scripture to ALSO love and respect my husband and put the needs of him and my children ahead of my own…every time. I will no longer be able to make decisions that only affect me. As long as I remain single, I will only ever have less to lay down.
Why don’t people talk about this? Singleness isn’t something to be feared. It is a time in your life to be treasured, to enjoy. It is from God AND FOR MY GOOD.
This epiphany has brought me to my next point. All my single ladies… (I had to, sorry), let us stop wasting our life. Let’s capture what it looks like to be romanced by the only Man in our lives. Precious Father, show us what it feels like to be pursued, this way, we can rightfully laugh off all the lame attempts that will ultimately cross our paths. Let us, let Him put us back together. May we be a generation that rises up to be focused on matters of the Lord. I desperately want to seize this opportunity to be single. Think like a dude, statistically, it won’t be like this forever. I imagine, though, I’ll be a far greater wife and mother if I am a good steward of my single walk alongside the Lord.
Care to join me in breaking this taboo? What are you passionate about? What do you desire in the deep dark undiscovered places of your heart? In what ways has God gifted you? What are you good at? What do you delight in? Are you using those passions to glorify Him?
Are you seizing your singleness? And not begrudgingly or because it will be a means to propel yourself out of your current relationship status. Instead, I pray when you read Paul’s account in 1 Corinthians 7:25-40, you’ll find yourself so pumped about being in this specific place and time and season. Let’s train hard and be disciplined now, that way we won’t have to, one day, ice our married knees.
I’ve lost count of the tears spilled wondering where I went wrong. I was too much, or not enough. I did too much of this, but not enough of that. I’m not cured of this thinking, but geesh, do I want to be!
I read a study one time that stumbled upon the differences between men and women regarding their specific relationship fears. The women polled in this particular study claimed their worst fear was never getting married. The men in the study, however, were scared of marrying the wrong person. Why do you think that is? I won’t pretend to understand why men will struggle here. But, I hate that our brains don’t operate more like theirs. Instead Satan whispers, “you’ll always be alone”. And we believe it. The men can rationally recognize they will one day, in fact, drink from the cup of marriage. I imagine their fear dives deeper than I plan on going, but for arguments sake; why is it we focus more on whether we’ll be “enough”, instead of flipping the measuring stick around on the men?
I believe the deceiver has wrecked our gender with this very specific attack. He has convinced us in every area, we are completely and absolutely unworthy of everything. Our punishment? A life of singlehood to reflect on all the ways we have ever fallen short. Until recently the thought of ‘marrying the wrong guy’ never even crossed my mind. Does he love me? Great. Clearly, he’s the right one. That was easy.
The message we, as women, hear the world screaming in our ear is that we are second-class citizens if we have yet to land a rock on that pesky little ring finger. I am beyond guilty of buying into this thinking. If this message was on a shirt, it’d probably be in my closet in every color and cleverly accessorized. I am also, painfully aware of the fact this isn’t an imaginary message, or even a subliminal one, for that matter. Life begins at love. Then comes marriage. You see this in movies, books, and in the life of everyone around you. It is common knowledge that being single is lame. But, marriage is hard and certainly not something to be made worthy of an idol. That, nonetheless, we will keep to a whisper.
It’s like running a 5K. All the cool, in shape people are doing it. They’ll boast of their times and which ones they’ve competed in. They’ll even proudly display a picture of them with relatively no sweat on their brow. Their arms are raised high and they have a champion smile cherry on top. I like cherries. That looks great and I definitely want a neat picture like that. But, nobody talks about the energy spent training up to that moment when you dodge puking and don’t have to ice your knees after. Of course not. That part is hard work. That part sucks. We don’t race to race, we race to finish. For far too long, I’ve believed in a marriage finish line. Everybody come look at how good-looking my husband is. Doesn’t our story make you so jealous? Have you seen my ring? I stayed skinny throughout my pregnancy and my kids are contest worthy cute. I have never had any interest in training. Instead, I just wanted to finish.
It’s almost blasphemous to speak against marriage. Marriage is ordained by God. It was not good for Adam to be alone. Two is better than one. But it was brought to my attention, in a Tom Ascol sermon this weekend at Providence Church, that… are you sitting down? Marriage is important, but not ultimate. SINGLENESS is also ordained by God and this path less traveled, in the apostle Paul’s opinion, is by far the way to go.
Paul is not for or against marriage. Paul is not for or against singleness. And he makes it appropriately known that Jesus hadn’t spoken specifically on the subject, either. Yet, in 1 Corinthians, Paul is simply offering up his own opinions or, what I like to call, ‘The Case For Singleness’. In chapter 7, Paul begins to spell out reasons why we shouldn’t operate as if singleness is just a season we endure until our number comes up. Rather, it is something to be cherished and chosen.
My favorite and most convicting reason called to light in Paul’s letter, regarding seizing our single season (say that five times fast), is that we have the opportunity right now to pursue God with undivided interests and energies. Single means I am able to seek and serve the Lord completely and without distraction. It will only get harder from this point. Instead of being concerned with matters of the Lord, I’ll eventually be commanded by scripture to ALSO love and respect my husband and put the needs of him and my children ahead of my own…every time. I will no longer be able to make decisions that only affect me. As long as I remain single, I will only ever have less to lay down.
Why don’t people talk about this? Singleness isn’t something to be feared. It is a time in your life to be treasured, to enjoy. It is from God AND FOR MY GOOD.
This epiphany has brought me to my next point. All my single ladies… (I had to, sorry), let us stop wasting our life. Let’s capture what it looks like to be romanced by the only Man in our lives. Precious Father, show us what it feels like to be pursued, this way, we can rightfully laugh off all the lame attempts that will ultimately cross our paths. Let us, let Him put us back together. May we be a generation that rises up to be focused on matters of the Lord. I desperately want to seize this opportunity to be single. Think like a dude, statistically, it won’t be like this forever. I imagine, though, I’ll be a far greater wife and mother if I am a good steward of my single walk alongside the Lord.
Care to join me in breaking this taboo? What are you passionate about? What do you desire in the deep dark undiscovered places of your heart? In what ways has God gifted you? What are you good at? What do you delight in? Are you using those passions to glorify Him?
Are you seizing your singleness? And not begrudgingly or because it will be a means to propel yourself out of your current relationship status. Instead, I pray when you read Paul’s account in 1 Corinthians 7:25-40, you’ll find yourself so pumped about being in this specific place and time and season. Let’s train hard and be disciplined now, that way we won’t have to, one day, ice our married knees.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Prince Hubby of Fallsshortalot. Chapter 7- part one.
I’ll attempt to prove my idea that until we learn to seek God for all, our husbands (current and in our dreams) will only ever fall short. These poor husbands and husbands-to-be are walking around with ginormous shoes to fill. Cut them some slack. Marriage is awesome, or so I’ve been told. I’ve also been told it is stinkin’ hard work. What I know to be true, is that marriage is a gift from God. He saw that Adam was alone and it was not good. I believe Jack Johnson when he says, we’re better together. But for 25 years, I worshiped the ‘husband will fix all my issues’ idol. Waaa, waa, waaaaah. Update on the last yearish of my life, I did not pass Go and did not collect $200.
I remember one of my crying spells was triggered by a silly (but gorgeous) West Elm shelf. I tried to hang it myself and despite my efforts it turned out horribly. I dreamed of ending my night impressing myself with my wall creation and instead was left with gigantic holes in my wall that I have yet to repair. This, is clearly, a justifiable reason to yell at God. These holes are a reminder to me, that look as hard as you might, but you will not find a ‘man of the house’. How depressing?
My ex fiancé could change my breaks, remodel a house, and drive a boat… yet here I sit with a pot rack that I bought months ago and have yet to hang. Let’s not even talk about how hilarious it would’ve been to be a fly on the wall watching me take my 42” flat screen out of the box and hoist it on my entertainment center. I thought surely it would end with me spilling tears over a cracked screen. I’ll make my point. Men are handy. However what is completely false, is the lie that once I land one, we’ll run around like a ‘Sun Chip’ commercial. Life will be colorful, we’ll smile a lot and always look good on camera.
A husband, a good Jesus-loving, hard-working one, will most definitely make life taste sweeter. But picture this, I seek God first and the Cinderella castle will be given to me. I believe the correct translation is ‘Kingdom of God’ and so that might be borderline offensive. But a little true, yes? Guys are like chocolate chip cookies. If you time it just right, you’re in for a delicious treat. But in this yummy metaphor, God is the coldest most amazing refreshing glass of milk. You could probably live off of chocolate chip cookies, but you’d finish out more days than none parched. First comes God, then comes marriage. (Go ahead and finish out the rest of the childhood rhyme,, otherwise you’ll sing it for the rest of the day…)
I don’t know how to just yet, but I have a plan in mind. I plan on linking up to Jesus, mosquito style, making sure to get my fill on His everlasting love. I want to sit at His feet, drink from the cup in His hand. Lay back against Him and breathe, feel His heart beat. His love is so deep. It’s more than I can stand. I melt in His peace. It’s overwhelming.
Okay, I stole those lines from a song. But, serious face. If I am so upside down deeply in love with God, then the hole in my heart is not as great a feat to fill for the hubster. I can’t help but think, he’ll thank me for it.
I can remember getting dumped by a boy after three months of dating and feeling like my world was over. I drove home as quickly as I could, because let’s me honest… Moms make it better. But, my dad was the first to greet me. I laid it out for him and leaned back waiting for the puffying up to start. “You’re better than him. He doesn’t deserve you.” Instead I was met with a brutal… “You have too much baggage.” Again, previous example. Daddys are good for fixing cars, but maybe not so much lying to ease pain. Like salt to the wound, I probably cried harder and louder. But there is truth in it. Even the best of us, won’t dodge the baggage of this world.
Early boyfriends taught me that love was not a thing to be trusted in… even if they were clever enough to make me feel like I was the only girl. The lesson here was that boys cheat.
Another boyfriend believed I was a good thing, but it never seemed enough for him. No matter what I did to try and earn his love, there would always be someone better out there for him. The suitcase I picked up on that trip was packed full of insecurity.
There was an amazing man that traveled across my path. I needed him to fall hard and fast, but he definitely never got that same memo. He was everything I never knew I wanted. It’s unclear to me, if the real life boy even resembled the one I had built up in my head but tragically I wasn’t enough of something he was looking for. Because this boy drove away too. Now, I’ve got a carry-on full of ‘unworthiness” to add to my collection.
Another man, didn’t know how to show emotion and eventually I stopped asking it of him. Though, I wasn’t sure what I had done, I knew it had to be something awful for him to not want to have a relationship with me. And when I would seek him, I was sent away on a sailboat of annoyance. Earning his favor proved a lost cause.
The crown of this unlovable creation ends a few days from a wedding. I didn’t feel worthy of his pursuit. Desiring romance was a needy pest of a thing I needed to learn to live without. Followed painfully by a person shattering rejection.
These men left me with scars; some deeper and more painful than others… all of them costing me a fortune in baggage fees. I was taught by experience that I am forgettable. Love has only ever been a conditional thing in my life. Love is secretive. Love is jealous. Love is ugly and painful. There are definitely no happy endings in store, unless you don’t eat chocolate when times are tough and travel light.
The very worst of my fears came true. And it justified every single lie about myself I had ever believed.
I remember one of my crying spells was triggered by a silly (but gorgeous) West Elm shelf. I tried to hang it myself and despite my efforts it turned out horribly. I dreamed of ending my night impressing myself with my wall creation and instead was left with gigantic holes in my wall that I have yet to repair. This, is clearly, a justifiable reason to yell at God. These holes are a reminder to me, that look as hard as you might, but you will not find a ‘man of the house’. How depressing?
My ex fiancé could change my breaks, remodel a house, and drive a boat… yet here I sit with a pot rack that I bought months ago and have yet to hang. Let’s not even talk about how hilarious it would’ve been to be a fly on the wall watching me take my 42” flat screen out of the box and hoist it on my entertainment center. I thought surely it would end with me spilling tears over a cracked screen. I’ll make my point. Men are handy. However what is completely false, is the lie that once I land one, we’ll run around like a ‘Sun Chip’ commercial. Life will be colorful, we’ll smile a lot and always look good on camera.
A husband, a good Jesus-loving, hard-working one, will most definitely make life taste sweeter. But picture this, I seek God first and the Cinderella castle will be given to me. I believe the correct translation is ‘Kingdom of God’ and so that might be borderline offensive. But a little true, yes? Guys are like chocolate chip cookies. If you time it just right, you’re in for a delicious treat. But in this yummy metaphor, God is the coldest most amazing refreshing glass of milk. You could probably live off of chocolate chip cookies, but you’d finish out more days than none parched. First comes God, then comes marriage. (Go ahead and finish out the rest of the childhood rhyme,, otherwise you’ll sing it for the rest of the day…)
I don’t know how to just yet, but I have a plan in mind. I plan on linking up to Jesus, mosquito style, making sure to get my fill on His everlasting love. I want to sit at His feet, drink from the cup in His hand. Lay back against Him and breathe, feel His heart beat. His love is so deep. It’s more than I can stand. I melt in His peace. It’s overwhelming.
Okay, I stole those lines from a song. But, serious face. If I am so upside down deeply in love with God, then the hole in my heart is not as great a feat to fill for the hubster. I can’t help but think, he’ll thank me for it.
I can remember getting dumped by a boy after three months of dating and feeling like my world was over. I drove home as quickly as I could, because let’s me honest… Moms make it better. But, my dad was the first to greet me. I laid it out for him and leaned back waiting for the puffying up to start. “You’re better than him. He doesn’t deserve you.” Instead I was met with a brutal… “You have too much baggage.” Again, previous example. Daddys are good for fixing cars, but maybe not so much lying to ease pain. Like salt to the wound, I probably cried harder and louder. But there is truth in it. Even the best of us, won’t dodge the baggage of this world.
Early boyfriends taught me that love was not a thing to be trusted in… even if they were clever enough to make me feel like I was the only girl. The lesson here was that boys cheat.
Another boyfriend believed I was a good thing, but it never seemed enough for him. No matter what I did to try and earn his love, there would always be someone better out there for him. The suitcase I picked up on that trip was packed full of insecurity.
There was an amazing man that traveled across my path. I needed him to fall hard and fast, but he definitely never got that same memo. He was everything I never knew I wanted. It’s unclear to me, if the real life boy even resembled the one I had built up in my head but tragically I wasn’t enough of something he was looking for. Because this boy drove away too. Now, I’ve got a carry-on full of ‘unworthiness” to add to my collection.
Another man, didn’t know how to show emotion and eventually I stopped asking it of him. Though, I wasn’t sure what I had done, I knew it had to be something awful for him to not want to have a relationship with me. And when I would seek him, I was sent away on a sailboat of annoyance. Earning his favor proved a lost cause.
The crown of this unlovable creation ends a few days from a wedding. I didn’t feel worthy of his pursuit. Desiring romance was a needy pest of a thing I needed to learn to live without. Followed painfully by a person shattering rejection.
These men left me with scars; some deeper and more painful than others… all of them costing me a fortune in baggage fees. I was taught by experience that I am forgettable. Love has only ever been a conditional thing in my life. Love is secretive. Love is jealous. Love is ugly and painful. There are definitely no happy endings in store, unless you don’t eat chocolate when times are tough and travel light.
The very worst of my fears came true. And it justified every single lie about myself I had ever believed.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Rejection Reflection, chapter 2-part one.
Rejection. Everyone will experience it. Jesus, even tasted its bitterness.
For me, heart break, hardships or any sort of rejection meant burying it deep and never looking back. Success is forgetting. Dysfunction is something triggering all those yucky feelings and painfully reminding you that you are still as wounded as the day it happened. The moon walk is the only notation in history where back tracking actually looks cool and even that is questionable. There are nasty life changing events in my past that I can, to this day, talk about with relatively zero emotion. Block out, move forward. Repeat. It’s all fun and games until you’re a shut in a year later, with ten cats (or in my case an adorable pup) and absolutely no desire to do anything else but clean out your DVR while eating chocolate chip cookie dough. Rock bottoms for me come often and out of no where. I seem to mass produce ruts that I can’t climb out of. That’s where not dealing with the junk gets you. You know how in middle school, they show you a picture of the ugliest toothless woman and explain that this is how you’ll look if you smoke? Well, hopefully my life will look as scary as that to you. Don’t be like me, or you’ll lose your teeth.
The enemy is ‘not dealing’, so after a couple more rock bottoms I decided to give this whole ‘dealing with junk’ thing a shot. On my path to conquering, some inclines seemed too much to bare at times. It’s like someone rung me out like a towel and drained any ounce of willingness to exist from my miserable heart. All I did was sleep. I broke commitments and avoided friends. I lacked energy and appetite. (I wished the no appetite season lasted long enough to shed annoying lbs.)
I was depressed.
On a side bar, I would like to add salt to the wound by noting the guilt and shame I felt for being a depressed Christian. It was impossible to tell where conviction started and self condemnation began. I remember journaling and crying out to God for forgiveness believing that I shouldn’t feel this way. Those who look to him are radiant (Ps 34:5). Those who seek the Lord lack no good thing (Ps 34:10).
It took me way too long to realize and give the depression I was feeling a name: Bondage. A dreaded heavy thing I carried around my neck keeping me from experiencing any sort of freedom in Christ. I couldn’t feel God’s love. I couldn’t hear His voice. I was convinced He had abandoned ship, realizing that my healing was too great a feat, especially without my willingness to surrender.
Break up your unplowed ground; for it is time to seek the Lord, Hosea 10:12. This was, for me, a picture of relief. I didn’t need to get over the hurt today, tomorrow.. there was absolutely no timeline or agenda. But I was called to seek the Lord immediately and often.
My work day can get overwhelming. Most days it would seem my To Do List (via sticky notes) could wrap the world over twice. These are the days I can either cope by playing on facebook while my dreadful deeds add up, or I can take one bite at a time. Payments, check. Invoices, check. Pretty soon, it’s peace-out-sauerkraut time and I accomplished it all with my sanity in tack.
Slow and steady wins the race. Paul talks about racing in the New Testament. I like Paul. I also like David. He wrote the Psalms. I spent months in the Psalms letting King David say everything for me because I was without.
Here are a few truths I wrote down and repeated often until I finally believed them. God gives us relief from our distress (Psalm 4:1) and He, nothing else, fills us with joy (Psalm 16:11). He has promised to turn our puffy eyes into dance parties (Psalm 30:11-12). That same verse says that we will be clothed with joy. And you don’t have to tell this lady twice. I love shopping and I hope my shirts of joy make me look skinny. And even us, tone deaf folk, will feel like doing karaoke in His presence.
It’s important to know that even standing on these truths, doesn't always stop the bad days from sneaking up on you. They just will hopefully remind you to close your laptop, put down the cookie dough and spend your night allowing the God of the universe to love on you.
For me, heart break, hardships or any sort of rejection meant burying it deep and never looking back. Success is forgetting. Dysfunction is something triggering all those yucky feelings and painfully reminding you that you are still as wounded as the day it happened. The moon walk is the only notation in history where back tracking actually looks cool and even that is questionable. There are nasty life changing events in my past that I can, to this day, talk about with relatively zero emotion. Block out, move forward. Repeat. It’s all fun and games until you’re a shut in a year later, with ten cats (or in my case an adorable pup) and absolutely no desire to do anything else but clean out your DVR while eating chocolate chip cookie dough. Rock bottoms for me come often and out of no where. I seem to mass produce ruts that I can’t climb out of. That’s where not dealing with the junk gets you. You know how in middle school, they show you a picture of the ugliest toothless woman and explain that this is how you’ll look if you smoke? Well, hopefully my life will look as scary as that to you. Don’t be like me, or you’ll lose your teeth.
The enemy is ‘not dealing’, so after a couple more rock bottoms I decided to give this whole ‘dealing with junk’ thing a shot. On my path to conquering, some inclines seemed too much to bare at times. It’s like someone rung me out like a towel and drained any ounce of willingness to exist from my miserable heart. All I did was sleep. I broke commitments and avoided friends. I lacked energy and appetite. (I wished the no appetite season lasted long enough to shed annoying lbs.)
I was depressed.
On a side bar, I would like to add salt to the wound by noting the guilt and shame I felt for being a depressed Christian. It was impossible to tell where conviction started and self condemnation began. I remember journaling and crying out to God for forgiveness believing that I shouldn’t feel this way. Those who look to him are radiant (Ps 34:5). Those who seek the Lord lack no good thing (Ps 34:10).
It took me way too long to realize and give the depression I was feeling a name: Bondage. A dreaded heavy thing I carried around my neck keeping me from experiencing any sort of freedom in Christ. I couldn’t feel God’s love. I couldn’t hear His voice. I was convinced He had abandoned ship, realizing that my healing was too great a feat, especially without my willingness to surrender.
Break up your unplowed ground; for it is time to seek the Lord, Hosea 10:12. This was, for me, a picture of relief. I didn’t need to get over the hurt today, tomorrow.. there was absolutely no timeline or agenda. But I was called to seek the Lord immediately and often.
My work day can get overwhelming. Most days it would seem my To Do List (via sticky notes) could wrap the world over twice. These are the days I can either cope by playing on facebook while my dreadful deeds add up, or I can take one bite at a time. Payments, check. Invoices, check. Pretty soon, it’s peace-out-sauerkraut time and I accomplished it all with my sanity in tack.
Slow and steady wins the race. Paul talks about racing in the New Testament. I like Paul. I also like David. He wrote the Psalms. I spent months in the Psalms letting King David say everything for me because I was without.
Here are a few truths I wrote down and repeated often until I finally believed them. God gives us relief from our distress (Psalm 4:1) and He, nothing else, fills us with joy (Psalm 16:11). He has promised to turn our puffy eyes into dance parties (Psalm 30:11-12). That same verse says that we will be clothed with joy. And you don’t have to tell this lady twice. I love shopping and I hope my shirts of joy make me look skinny. And even us, tone deaf folk, will feel like doing karaoke in His presence.
It’s important to know that even standing on these truths, doesn't always stop the bad days from sneaking up on you. They just will hopefully remind you to close your laptop, put down the cookie dough and spend your night allowing the God of the universe to love on you.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Matters of the heart.
Matters of the heart
Colossians 3:1 says to set your hearts on things above. I don’t think this to be a suggestion. I believe it is a requirement of genuine conversion. Jeremiah 24:7 tells me I was given a heart to know God, by believing in the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit. Matthew 6:21 challenges me to question where my treasure is. Further saying that is where you will find my heart. I mean, would anybody enjoy answering that question aloud for people to hear? I would not. But if I’m honest, it’s written in my actions. It’s painted across my agendas.
Matthew 6:19 makes it clear what will happen to any treasures I attempt to store on earth. Could I then imply any time spent not treasuring God is a waste?
The parable of the hidden treasure in Matthew 13:44, has always bothered me deeply. The above commands, though hard to exude, are not rocket science. Treasure heavenly things, live eternally minded. I’m not great at it, but I get it God. But then He loses me.. “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.”
This man found the treasure and then did what? Hid it here on earth where it would perish. Ugh, you just told me not to store up treasures on earth… now you’re telling me where to hide it?
I had it wrong. I was focused on the work, the action of it all. Not the faith behind his hiding spot. But, tonight I picked up something new and very exciting. This information was key to unlocking the beauty of this “Treasure” scripture speaks of. It’s not in what he did, but more of what he found. The treasure in the field is the fellowship of God in Christ. (John Piper) The direct result of finding this treasure was ecstatic, unspeakable, life changing… JOY.
And if I can, allow me to travel right back to Colossians 3. I wondered why Paul writes not only to set your hearts on things above, but to also set your minds on things above. Even though, I am a victim of the same verbiage, I question why the use of both? We do whatever we make up our little minds up to do. We rationalize lies. We Christianize idols. We have this silly beating heart that gets blame for a lot of stuff, when all it really exists to do is pump blood. But better even, the heart paints a picture of love. The heart seems to be the center of our emotions. And I believe now, what Paul is saying by ‘setting your heart’ is none other than to love. The man in the parable fell in love with his treasure.
I am afraid to admit, for far too long I have known God with my mind, often missing out on the experience of loving Him with my heart.
Ode to the discovery of Treasure.
Colossians 3:1 says to set your hearts on things above. I don’t think this to be a suggestion. I believe it is a requirement of genuine conversion. Jeremiah 24:7 tells me I was given a heart to know God, by believing in the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit. Matthew 6:21 challenges me to question where my treasure is. Further saying that is where you will find my heart. I mean, would anybody enjoy answering that question aloud for people to hear? I would not. But if I’m honest, it’s written in my actions. It’s painted across my agendas.
Matthew 6:19 makes it clear what will happen to any treasures I attempt to store on earth. Could I then imply any time spent not treasuring God is a waste?
The parable of the hidden treasure in Matthew 13:44, has always bothered me deeply. The above commands, though hard to exude, are not rocket science. Treasure heavenly things, live eternally minded. I’m not great at it, but I get it God. But then He loses me.. “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.”
This man found the treasure and then did what? Hid it here on earth where it would perish. Ugh, you just told me not to store up treasures on earth… now you’re telling me where to hide it?
I had it wrong. I was focused on the work, the action of it all. Not the faith behind his hiding spot. But, tonight I picked up something new and very exciting. This information was key to unlocking the beauty of this “Treasure” scripture speaks of. It’s not in what he did, but more of what he found. The treasure in the field is the fellowship of God in Christ. (John Piper) The direct result of finding this treasure was ecstatic, unspeakable, life changing… JOY.
And if I can, allow me to travel right back to Colossians 3. I wondered why Paul writes not only to set your hearts on things above, but to also set your minds on things above. Even though, I am a victim of the same verbiage, I question why the use of both? We do whatever we make up our little minds up to do. We rationalize lies. We Christianize idols. We have this silly beating heart that gets blame for a lot of stuff, when all it really exists to do is pump blood. But better even, the heart paints a picture of love. The heart seems to be the center of our emotions. And I believe now, what Paul is saying by ‘setting your heart’ is none other than to love. The man in the parable fell in love with his treasure.
I am afraid to admit, for far too long I have known God with my mind, often missing out on the experience of loving Him with my heart.
Ode to the discovery of Treasure.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The greatest Love.
I believe in Eve. I believe in beauty. A woman’s heart is a tiny glimpse of the Mother of all life and the tenderness she has passed down through the generations. I wonder what it would’ve been like to be on a coffee date with Eve. It would be purely intoxicating to listen to the stories of each and every passionate, undisturbed, vulnerable moment spent with the Lord. What would it look like to love God for who He is? How different would my life be if my hand could rest in His? I’d desperately want to learn the lines of his face, or count the specks in his eyes.
If I squint I can almost make out her vibrant beating heart as I sit across the table listening to her speak of her greatest Love--a Love that she knows personally and to no bounds. She is healthy, she is loved, and there is pure joy pulsing through her veins. It looks as if she might explode. There are no scars in need of mending. There is no worry on her mind. There are no tears to wipe, or pieces to pick up.
But then I blink and am back in a room with wounded souls, cursed to desire the above, yet walk and drink and talk of sorrow. I wonder how much more we can bare on these frail earthly backs. And the silly thing about women, is no matter their load.. they’ll make room for yours too. A woman can be burdened down and toppled over with hardship, but let them hear of your hurt and without missing a beat, they’ll toss your load to the top of their stack and continue on.
But even in the brokenness there is a fire. It can completely illuminate a room and I’ve seen it do so. On a night such as this, when women gather to share their hearts, their struggles, and their victories it’s as if a beacon of light shoots straight out of the ceiling and into the heavens as far as the eye can see.
We don’t know why, or what. We’re scared, broken, bruised, exhausted and without. But we will walk in the footsteps of faith. May we trust Him, not because we have no other option but because He is worthy of it. We will fight for joy amidst the pain. We will set our hearts on the hope to which we have been given. Let us desire Him with a fierceness that does not fade. Sweet one, let Him hold your heart. The weight is heavy and the road is tough, but He is near to the broken.
Praying for you.
If I squint I can almost make out her vibrant beating heart as I sit across the table listening to her speak of her greatest Love--a Love that she knows personally and to no bounds. She is healthy, she is loved, and there is pure joy pulsing through her veins. It looks as if she might explode. There are no scars in need of mending. There is no worry on her mind. There are no tears to wipe, or pieces to pick up.
But then I blink and am back in a room with wounded souls, cursed to desire the above, yet walk and drink and talk of sorrow. I wonder how much more we can bare on these frail earthly backs. And the silly thing about women, is no matter their load.. they’ll make room for yours too. A woman can be burdened down and toppled over with hardship, but let them hear of your hurt and without missing a beat, they’ll toss your load to the top of their stack and continue on.
But even in the brokenness there is a fire. It can completely illuminate a room and I’ve seen it do so. On a night such as this, when women gather to share their hearts, their struggles, and their victories it’s as if a beacon of light shoots straight out of the ceiling and into the heavens as far as the eye can see.
We don’t know why, or what. We’re scared, broken, bruised, exhausted and without. But we will walk in the footsteps of faith. May we trust Him, not because we have no other option but because He is worthy of it. We will fight for joy amidst the pain. We will set our hearts on the hope to which we have been given. Let us desire Him with a fierceness that does not fade. Sweet one, let Him hold your heart. The weight is heavy and the road is tough, but He is near to the broken.
Praying for you.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Community does a body good :)
Tonight I met with some amazing ladies.. ladies on a mission, my favorite kind. There isn’t much more beautiful a sight than women coming together with one heart, passion and mission. It will be exciting to enter into a partnership with these gals.
It’s been no shocker to anyone around me that (though I’d like to think I hide it well) I am in a rut. Break ups can do it to ya, but more so can lack of community. I can remember very early on in my Christian walk reading this silly Christian book (I am calling it silly, because really I’m just jealous that other people have actually accomplished such a task and I have not). The author seemed to have a plethora of great friendships to surround him, encouraging him and the like. At the time, I did not. I wanted to throw the book across the room. Sure, this life, this walk by faith was easy for him… he’s got help, lots of it. That night I argued with God. I tested Him. And literally almost overnight the seed’o’community blossomed. That next morning a blonde college student walked into the surf shop I was managing and asked if I wanted to go to church with her—more specifically their college ministry. I was in a bible study within a week and the friends I made in that season (7ish years ago) are some of the dearest people in the world to me.
What this says to me, is that God takes community very seriously. Real quick, let’s unpack that “churchy” word. Community is basically a circle of people that you can do life with, be vulnerable around, encourage, challenge, love, pray and cry with.
For me, being dumped right before your wedding was a huge embarrassment. Now, unavoidably to all who knew me I was damaged and wounded. To know me was to pity me, whether the case, I felt like all eyes were on the broken Christian girl to see how she would respond. I’d like to think I rebounded well enough.. it only strengthened my walk with Christ. I trust God now with a fierceness I had not known I was capable of. I say all of this to confess almost a year later, I see where the wreckage took place. I withdrew myself from community. I opted out of being vulnerable. It just seemed easier and less bothersome to have a breakdown in private.
Here’s what I’m pleading you this evening, find authentic community and anchor yourself deep within it. The truth of the good news in Christ is that we aren’t perfect, we’re actually pretty stinking messy. We are broken, ugly, and dysfunctional but Jesus has reconciled us to the Father… so thankfully I don’t have to put on my perfect Christian face every morning… so thankfully I can cry for help and watch as a team rallies around me and for me… so thankfully, thankfully, thankfully.
I was fortunate enough to have community around me, I just chose to shut it out for a bit; however if you are trying to do life on your own right now, please prayerfully consider joining us this next Monday, May 10th. We are getting a women’s group of out-of-college-single-20-somethings together to go through the book of Colossians. Email/facebook me for more details.
(Didn’t mean to turn this into a commercial, lol.. but hey? If it works.)
It’s been no shocker to anyone around me that (though I’d like to think I hide it well) I am in a rut. Break ups can do it to ya, but more so can lack of community. I can remember very early on in my Christian walk reading this silly Christian book (I am calling it silly, because really I’m just jealous that other people have actually accomplished such a task and I have not). The author seemed to have a plethora of great friendships to surround him, encouraging him and the like. At the time, I did not. I wanted to throw the book across the room. Sure, this life, this walk by faith was easy for him… he’s got help, lots of it. That night I argued with God. I tested Him. And literally almost overnight the seed’o’community blossomed. That next morning a blonde college student walked into the surf shop I was managing and asked if I wanted to go to church with her—more specifically their college ministry. I was in a bible study within a week and the friends I made in that season (7ish years ago) are some of the dearest people in the world to me.
What this says to me, is that God takes community very seriously. Real quick, let’s unpack that “churchy” word. Community is basically a circle of people that you can do life with, be vulnerable around, encourage, challenge, love, pray and cry with.
For me, being dumped right before your wedding was a huge embarrassment. Now, unavoidably to all who knew me I was damaged and wounded. To know me was to pity me, whether the case, I felt like all eyes were on the broken Christian girl to see how she would respond. I’d like to think I rebounded well enough.. it only strengthened my walk with Christ. I trust God now with a fierceness I had not known I was capable of. I say all of this to confess almost a year later, I see where the wreckage took place. I withdrew myself from community. I opted out of being vulnerable. It just seemed easier and less bothersome to have a breakdown in private.
Here’s what I’m pleading you this evening, find authentic community and anchor yourself deep within it. The truth of the good news in Christ is that we aren’t perfect, we’re actually pretty stinking messy. We are broken, ugly, and dysfunctional but Jesus has reconciled us to the Father… so thankfully I don’t have to put on my perfect Christian face every morning… so thankfully I can cry for help and watch as a team rallies around me and for me… so thankfully, thankfully, thankfully.
I was fortunate enough to have community around me, I just chose to shut it out for a bit; however if you are trying to do life on your own right now, please prayerfully consider joining us this next Monday, May 10th. We are getting a women’s group of out-of-college-single-20-somethings together to go through the book of Colossians. Email/facebook me for more details.
(Didn’t mean to turn this into a commercial, lol.. but hey? If it works.)
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Hope deferred.
I possess a sort of broken record spirit. Hardship, triumph and yet another hardship. Can a girl catch a break here, God?
It feels as though I’m hand and hand with God walking straight toward my heart’s desire, but then the road makes a sudden and jagged turn away from what I long for… what He promised. Our grip is tested as I try to continue the previous course. There is a soreness in my heart as the space between us grows. Our arms are now stretched to their full reach, I can feel the tightness in my whole body. I go limp. I surrender. He never lets go, His grip only tightens. I’m frustrated with Him. I cry out. Unable to look Him in the eye, instead I watch as the end to my fairy tale moves from forefront to side glance. He pulls me up, grabs me close and whispers, “Trust me”.
I do trust You, but why are You leading me this way? What I want is the other direction, Lord. Don’t You love me?
This time His voice is a little louder, “Be patient”. There is a sternness in His voice that I cannot deny, yet His eyes are kind. It's as if they are saying.. I love you, I made you. I know what is best for you. Just walk with me.
I imagine I am Abraham, and so surely I will sacrifice my precious promise because I worship a God who will bring it back to life. And so with that, I turn away from what I thought I knew. I quicken my step so that I am back in sync with my Redeemer.
I don’t understand any of it… but I’m standing through it all. I don’t always feel the right way, but I get around to it. I am thankful for a God who has been to the end of my life and who knows exactly what is ahead and what I can bare. He knows exactly how to be glorified most in me, and is holding my hand as we walk through it all. I am so thankful for God’s word and how it comes to life precisely when I need it most. I am thankful for a stability in Christ that is not shattered through a trial but strengthened.
Hope deferred can make a heart sick, but God is greater than our hearts and He knows everything.
Please pray for my grandma.
It feels as though I’m hand and hand with God walking straight toward my heart’s desire, but then the road makes a sudden and jagged turn away from what I long for… what He promised. Our grip is tested as I try to continue the previous course. There is a soreness in my heart as the space between us grows. Our arms are now stretched to their full reach, I can feel the tightness in my whole body. I go limp. I surrender. He never lets go, His grip only tightens. I’m frustrated with Him. I cry out. Unable to look Him in the eye, instead I watch as the end to my fairy tale moves from forefront to side glance. He pulls me up, grabs me close and whispers, “Trust me”.
I do trust You, but why are You leading me this way? What I want is the other direction, Lord. Don’t You love me?
This time His voice is a little louder, “Be patient”. There is a sternness in His voice that I cannot deny, yet His eyes are kind. It's as if they are saying.. I love you, I made you. I know what is best for you. Just walk with me.
I imagine I am Abraham, and so surely I will sacrifice my precious promise because I worship a God who will bring it back to life. And so with that, I turn away from what I thought I knew. I quicken my step so that I am back in sync with my Redeemer.
I don’t understand any of it… but I’m standing through it all. I don’t always feel the right way, but I get around to it. I am thankful for a God who has been to the end of my life and who knows exactly what is ahead and what I can bare. He knows exactly how to be glorified most in me, and is holding my hand as we walk through it all. I am so thankful for God’s word and how it comes to life precisely when I need it most. I am thankful for a stability in Christ that is not shattered through a trial but strengthened.
Hope deferred can make a heart sick, but God is greater than our hearts and He knows everything.
Please pray for my grandma.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Haiti Memories.. Part 1
I wish I could live life on a mission trip high. I am desperate to write of my precious Haitian stories, hoping they never slip through my finger tips. I am eager to remember my time spent with such a fortunate bunch. I don’t say that to mock them. I am humbled by a people who love God for who He is and not what He does for them. I am blessed to have spent time in a country overthrown with hardships and sorrow, yet shining with the joy of the Lord. They are a group, not polluted by television or influenced by mainstream images and trends. They understand community and hard work. The children are not spoiled, or self centered but instead learn early how to make much of little. The ground may shake below them, but their faith does not tremble. When faced with disaster, they do not become angry with God, instead they cling to His promises and hope. They take pride in their country and believe in a better future. They are gracious. They are loving. They changed my life.
I was speechless as we landed on the strip of concrete, also known as the Port-Au-Prince airport. I sat shotgun in an old pickup truck with a busted windshield as we drove deeper and deeper into the country. For the first time ever, I remember trusting God with my life. I mean, genuinely recognizing I was in His hands and at the mercy of His will. I didn’t have the comfort of 911, or a familiar city. No cell phone, no AAA, and nothing was in English. I had absolutely no control over my life and I was RELIEVED.
As we drove down muddy roads lined with people trying to make a living, I felt as if at any moment the director would yell “Cut!” and the projector would flicker off revealing the green screen backdrop. I can only describe it with the cheesy term, culture shock. The commute revealed a scene and a smell that I will never forget. A woman approached the vehicle. Her eyes were white, where there should’ve been dark pupils. In shame, I looked away. I saw people missing limbs. I saw people digging through mountains of trash looking for there next meal, or way to make money. I saw more bare feet than I could count. I witnessed more skinny arms and bloated bellies than I was prepared for. I felt ashamed, scared, overwhelmed and I wanted it all to go away.
The place I stayed was literally a beautiful oasis surrounded by huge concrete walls, topped by barbwire. I remember the first night sitting outside in a lawn chair listening to the vibrant, sometimes frightening, sounds coming from outside the walls. This is where I cried for the first time. If it makes any sense, I cried because I hadn’t yet cried. I’d like to think I rank pretty high on the compassionate scale, yet there I was… immersed in a fascinating new culture and terrified to look anyone in the eye.
I don’t know if the word ashamed, gives what I was feeling any justice. But, there under the Haitian moon I begged God to make sense of it all. Why are some born into wealth, and others poverty? Worse yet, why is it so easy for me, amidst all my material possessions, to be ungrateful? My mind ran a mile a minute, flooded with ideas of what to do, or how to help. I knew I would never be the same, but I could only at this point ask God where to go from there.
The next morning, I visited a missionary compound in Leogane. I listened in on the conversation, but I was more interested in this man from New Jersey’s faithful leap into another world. Here is where I started to learn of a vision for Haiti’s future. I wasn’t just standing in a courtyard of a school and church… this was a haven for children to leave with full bellies and solid Christian foundations. The future of this country lies with the children who love the Lord and desire to make their home a better place.
Before leaving the compound, the people gathered around us and prayed for safe travel and God’s will. This was so un-American and I loved it.
Our next stop was at a precious orphanage only a few miles away. Here I would meet 11 precious little ladies who all shared a roof and a bedroom. They each gave me a kiss on the cheek and I shared one of my favorite things with them… CANDY. I watched as the littlest one in the bunch placed the wrapper and all in her mouth.
They were proud to show me their room. I smiled as I saw “Jesus loves you” written on the door to the boys room. There was a concrete floor, ceiling and walls. They had no electricity so it was very dark inside. But it was clean and the girls had made their beds. They had beautiful blankets made for them by a class from Naples Christian Academy and these blankets covered a bed frame and springs. They were without mattresses.
The mother of the house stood proudly as I explored her home. The kitchen looked more like a work shed but in that small space she prepared meals for her beautiful 16 orphan children. My eyes were still adjusting when I noticed a brightly colored fabric hanging over a window. I couldn’t help but blurt out how lovely her curtains were. Her face lit up. She was beautiful and you could just tell her soul was at rest. She was a real life Proverbs 31 woman.
I wanted to give every penny I had to this Pastor and his wife who had taken in these precious little ones. They weren’t waiting around on a hand out, they were making the best of what they were given. Pray for this sweet family.
I can’t wait to share Day 2 with you, but I’m afraid I need to pace myself so you’ll actually give it a read and not be discouraged by a lengthy novel.
…to be continued.
I was speechless as we landed on the strip of concrete, also known as the Port-Au-Prince airport. I sat shotgun in an old pickup truck with a busted windshield as we drove deeper and deeper into the country. For the first time ever, I remember trusting God with my life. I mean, genuinely recognizing I was in His hands and at the mercy of His will. I didn’t have the comfort of 911, or a familiar city. No cell phone, no AAA, and nothing was in English. I had absolutely no control over my life and I was RELIEVED.
As we drove down muddy roads lined with people trying to make a living, I felt as if at any moment the director would yell “Cut!” and the projector would flicker off revealing the green screen backdrop. I can only describe it with the cheesy term, culture shock. The commute revealed a scene and a smell that I will never forget. A woman approached the vehicle. Her eyes were white, where there should’ve been dark pupils. In shame, I looked away. I saw people missing limbs. I saw people digging through mountains of trash looking for there next meal, or way to make money. I saw more bare feet than I could count. I witnessed more skinny arms and bloated bellies than I was prepared for. I felt ashamed, scared, overwhelmed and I wanted it all to go away.
The place I stayed was literally a beautiful oasis surrounded by huge concrete walls, topped by barbwire. I remember the first night sitting outside in a lawn chair listening to the vibrant, sometimes frightening, sounds coming from outside the walls. This is where I cried for the first time. If it makes any sense, I cried because I hadn’t yet cried. I’d like to think I rank pretty high on the compassionate scale, yet there I was… immersed in a fascinating new culture and terrified to look anyone in the eye.
I don’t know if the word ashamed, gives what I was feeling any justice. But, there under the Haitian moon I begged God to make sense of it all. Why are some born into wealth, and others poverty? Worse yet, why is it so easy for me, amidst all my material possessions, to be ungrateful? My mind ran a mile a minute, flooded with ideas of what to do, or how to help. I knew I would never be the same, but I could only at this point ask God where to go from there.
The next morning, I visited a missionary compound in Leogane. I listened in on the conversation, but I was more interested in this man from New Jersey’s faithful leap into another world. Here is where I started to learn of a vision for Haiti’s future. I wasn’t just standing in a courtyard of a school and church… this was a haven for children to leave with full bellies and solid Christian foundations. The future of this country lies with the children who love the Lord and desire to make their home a better place.
Before leaving the compound, the people gathered around us and prayed for safe travel and God’s will. This was so un-American and I loved it.
Our next stop was at a precious orphanage only a few miles away. Here I would meet 11 precious little ladies who all shared a roof and a bedroom. They each gave me a kiss on the cheek and I shared one of my favorite things with them… CANDY. I watched as the littlest one in the bunch placed the wrapper and all in her mouth.
They were proud to show me their room. I smiled as I saw “Jesus loves you” written on the door to the boys room. There was a concrete floor, ceiling and walls. They had no electricity so it was very dark inside. But it was clean and the girls had made their beds. They had beautiful blankets made for them by a class from Naples Christian Academy and these blankets covered a bed frame and springs. They were without mattresses.
The mother of the house stood proudly as I explored her home. The kitchen looked more like a work shed but in that small space she prepared meals for her beautiful 16 orphan children. My eyes were still adjusting when I noticed a brightly colored fabric hanging over a window. I couldn’t help but blurt out how lovely her curtains were. Her face lit up. She was beautiful and you could just tell her soul was at rest. She was a real life Proverbs 31 woman.
I wanted to give every penny I had to this Pastor and his wife who had taken in these precious little ones. They weren’t waiting around on a hand out, they were making the best of what they were given. Pray for this sweet family.
I can’t wait to share Day 2 with you, but I’m afraid I need to pace myself so you’ll actually give it a read and not be discouraged by a lengthy novel.
…to be continued.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Forbidden Fruit
In the solitude (and blistering cold) of the Tennessee mountains, I learned a little bit more of God’s character. I took walks in the snow, and was moved by a simple sun beam shining through the naked tree limbs. My soul was quieted when surrounded by this winter white beauty. Not the beauty found on a Cosmo magazine, but a beauty that could only be hand painted by the Creator of the universe. I was at rest.
During my stay above the clouds, I read and reread the account of Creation in Genesis, along side the book ‘Captivating’ and a tragic story of distrust and a soul at unrest played out on both stages. If you’ve read the book, bare with me as I recap… if you haven’t, you’re in for an epiphany (or at least I was). The stage is set, you know the story… There is Adam, there is Eve and there is the invention of rebellion. But, let’s dive deeper. They had everything they ever needed at their finger tips, with only one condition… ‘Do not eat from the Tree of Life, or you shall die’. As with most deception it always starts from a small opening in the door, just enough wiggle room for Satan to slither into. We witness him plant a seed of doubt in Eve’s mind. ‘Surely you will not DIE, but instead your eyes will be opened’. In my opinion, this is the most tragic and IMPORTANT lesson to be learned in a woman’s life.
The seed of doubt was placed in Eve’s mind and from that grew a heart of distrust towards God. I can see this in my own life (dare I say.. almost EVERYDAY?). Somewhere along the way, I began to distrust God and His plan for me. I stopped believing that He had my good in store. It wasn’t a conscious decision, it happened somewhere after my first heart break, or maybe the second or third? As life begins to collect its share of hardships and defeats, the distrust in my heart grew. Eve believed that God was holding out on her and so she took matters into her own hands. She took a bite of the forbidden fruit leaving behind the plan God had for her; believing that she could construct something better with her own two hands.
Does this resound in any other women’s heart? Or am I alone to recall the countless times I have rushed God’s timing, or pushed my own agenda? Too impatient to wait or too convinced that I could do it better on my own. It’s only a matter of time before my plan comes to a rushing halt, or I am left worse off than when I had started.
If I can be brutally honest for a moment, a prime example has just irrupted in my life over the last year. I was so eager to be married, that I willed everything to play out in fast forward; boyfriend, love, marriage… the faster, the better. (Tic Tok) I knew what was best for me and I put all my energy into making it happen. We are a generation of strong, successful, EAGER women. We see what we want and not only do we go after it, but we are clever and empowered enough to attain it. Mildly put, we get what we want. It is a beautiful strength that we can sometimes seem to pervert.
I say this, if only to prevent one person from the disaster I walked through. If I had recognized my actions, for what they were, maybe I would have pumped the brakes on the crazy. I need you to hear, that I don’t blame myself for the hurt. I don’t dwell there at all. It was an unfortunate thing to be abandoned the week of your wedding. I hope no one has to walk through that and further more, I don’t think for one second God wills us to experience such a pain. I think if I had listened, He was desperately trying to pull me from it. If I had listened, *sigh*.
So here I am, as of tomorrow, another year older and back at square one, it would seem. Would you think I was insane to say, I wouldn’t trade it for anything? I’m actually encouraged to have learned such an incredible truth. It is an honest relief to know that God IS in control, God DOES desire my best and better even… WILLS to see it come to pass. It only took 26 years to finally TRUST God’s heart. And I am looking forward to spending another lifetime perfecting such a belief.
"The Lord finds our desires not too strong but too weak."-Clive Staples Lewis
Delight yourself in the LORD
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the LORD;
trust in him and he will do this.
Psalm 37:4-5
During my stay above the clouds, I read and reread the account of Creation in Genesis, along side the book ‘Captivating’ and a tragic story of distrust and a soul at unrest played out on both stages. If you’ve read the book, bare with me as I recap… if you haven’t, you’re in for an epiphany (or at least I was). The stage is set, you know the story… There is Adam, there is Eve and there is the invention of rebellion. But, let’s dive deeper. They had everything they ever needed at their finger tips, with only one condition… ‘Do not eat from the Tree of Life, or you shall die’. As with most deception it always starts from a small opening in the door, just enough wiggle room for Satan to slither into. We witness him plant a seed of doubt in Eve’s mind. ‘Surely you will not DIE, but instead your eyes will be opened’. In my opinion, this is the most tragic and IMPORTANT lesson to be learned in a woman’s life.
The seed of doubt was placed in Eve’s mind and from that grew a heart of distrust towards God. I can see this in my own life (dare I say.. almost EVERYDAY?). Somewhere along the way, I began to distrust God and His plan for me. I stopped believing that He had my good in store. It wasn’t a conscious decision, it happened somewhere after my first heart break, or maybe the second or third? As life begins to collect its share of hardships and defeats, the distrust in my heart grew. Eve believed that God was holding out on her and so she took matters into her own hands. She took a bite of the forbidden fruit leaving behind the plan God had for her; believing that she could construct something better with her own two hands.
Does this resound in any other women’s heart? Or am I alone to recall the countless times I have rushed God’s timing, or pushed my own agenda? Too impatient to wait or too convinced that I could do it better on my own. It’s only a matter of time before my plan comes to a rushing halt, or I am left worse off than when I had started.
If I can be brutally honest for a moment, a prime example has just irrupted in my life over the last year. I was so eager to be married, that I willed everything to play out in fast forward; boyfriend, love, marriage… the faster, the better. (Tic Tok) I knew what was best for me and I put all my energy into making it happen. We are a generation of strong, successful, EAGER women. We see what we want and not only do we go after it, but we are clever and empowered enough to attain it. Mildly put, we get what we want. It is a beautiful strength that we can sometimes seem to pervert.
I say this, if only to prevent one person from the disaster I walked through. If I had recognized my actions, for what they were, maybe I would have pumped the brakes on the crazy. I need you to hear, that I don’t blame myself for the hurt. I don’t dwell there at all. It was an unfortunate thing to be abandoned the week of your wedding. I hope no one has to walk through that and further more, I don’t think for one second God wills us to experience such a pain. I think if I had listened, He was desperately trying to pull me from it. If I had listened, *sigh*.
So here I am, as of tomorrow, another year older and back at square one, it would seem. Would you think I was insane to say, I wouldn’t trade it for anything? I’m actually encouraged to have learned such an incredible truth. It is an honest relief to know that God IS in control, God DOES desire my best and better even… WILLS to see it come to pass. It only took 26 years to finally TRUST God’s heart. And I am looking forward to spending another lifetime perfecting such a belief.
"The Lord finds our desires not too strong but too weak."-Clive Staples Lewis
Delight yourself in the LORD
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the LORD;
trust in him and he will do this.
Psalm 37:4-5
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Ye of lil faith.
It’s been a whirlwind of a year, to say the least. The first half mimicked a slow tick ascent of a rollercoaster climbing to the top, followed by an immediate drop straight down, to what felt like my doom. I rang 2009 in at my friend’s wedding in upstate New York. It was my first time ever seeing snow and the closest I’ve ever come to losing my toes to frost bite. March I got engaged and turned 25. June didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped. September I answered the call to missions in Haiti, turned out to be a wrong number… or I hung up prematurely, the verdict is still out. Thanksgiving I told all my family I was moving to Haiti, Christmas I told them “just kidding”. I quit my job, twice… neither time panned out, thankfully. Instead I got some much need time off. Which brings us to present day, are you as exhausted reading it as I was living it?
Spiritually I ended the year defeated. I desperately desired to hear from God. I begged and pleaded for my neon sign directing my path and lighting the way. No luck. So, I did what any (un)reasonable Christian would do, I pouted and hid in a corner. I walked away, not from my belief in God, but from desiring His presence and seeking His guidance. God didn’t answer me… so I stopped asking. This season in the valley was cold and quiet and lonely. But I am so thankful for a God who speaks to me in the desert (Hosea 2:14). I do not deserve it, and despite it all, He continues to draw me near (James 4:8).
I don’t really have direction. I can’t say I’ve made total sense of the latter part of my year, but I do know that the pain I’ve walked through will not be in vain. I refuse to let it be. Christ is the solid rock on which I stand. I exist to glorify Him, desire a relationship with Him and learn more about His character everyday.
My 2009 lacked the necessary faith to get through the year unscathed. This year, I will resolve to grow my faith. I will learn to actually trust God with all and not just say that I do.
Over the last few months, I had really beat myself up over not having enough faith to make the move to Haiti. I mourned (rightfully so) over the missed opportunities to see God move and impact lives in ways beyond anything I have ever seen. And though, it would seem a noble lashing… it was really an effective plan in keeping me down. I finally came to a place where I saw my unbelief (or lack of faith) as a sin. First glance, this might seem like a further discouragement, but in reality it released me. I understand that Christ died for my sins. However, I normally default to believe His blood covered my yucky past, my sometimes exaggeration of the truth, or my lack of financial stewardship. But it hadn’t occurred to me that Christ has already (and will continue to) forgive me daily for my lack of faith. Most importantly I am never to dwell in that wretched place of despair and discouragement. I must remember, I can always ask for MORE faith. (Luke 17:5 and Mark 9:24)
I’ve been spending some time in the gospel of John. Not too far into chapter one, I found myself paying extra attention to everyone’s measure of faith. I read about how John the Baptist pointed to the glory of Christ every chance he got. I saw Andrew’s faith in Jesus and his eagerness to share it with his brother (Simon Peter). This trickle effect led to the very man that Christ would raise up as the foundation of the early church. And when Nathaneal heard and believed what Jesus said, Jesus invited him to see and witness “greater things than that”!!
Simply put, God can (and I like to think enjoys) turning my teeny splashes into tidal waves...
Spiritually I ended the year defeated. I desperately desired to hear from God. I begged and pleaded for my neon sign directing my path and lighting the way. No luck. So, I did what any (un)reasonable Christian would do, I pouted and hid in a corner. I walked away, not from my belief in God, but from desiring His presence and seeking His guidance. God didn’t answer me… so I stopped asking. This season in the valley was cold and quiet and lonely. But I am so thankful for a God who speaks to me in the desert (Hosea 2:14). I do not deserve it, and despite it all, He continues to draw me near (James 4:8).
I don’t really have direction. I can’t say I’ve made total sense of the latter part of my year, but I do know that the pain I’ve walked through will not be in vain. I refuse to let it be. Christ is the solid rock on which I stand. I exist to glorify Him, desire a relationship with Him and learn more about His character everyday.
My 2009 lacked the necessary faith to get through the year unscathed. This year, I will resolve to grow my faith. I will learn to actually trust God with all and not just say that I do.
Over the last few months, I had really beat myself up over not having enough faith to make the move to Haiti. I mourned (rightfully so) over the missed opportunities to see God move and impact lives in ways beyond anything I have ever seen. And though, it would seem a noble lashing… it was really an effective plan in keeping me down. I finally came to a place where I saw my unbelief (or lack of faith) as a sin. First glance, this might seem like a further discouragement, but in reality it released me. I understand that Christ died for my sins. However, I normally default to believe His blood covered my yucky past, my sometimes exaggeration of the truth, or my lack of financial stewardship. But it hadn’t occurred to me that Christ has already (and will continue to) forgive me daily for my lack of faith. Most importantly I am never to dwell in that wretched place of despair and discouragement. I must remember, I can always ask for MORE faith. (Luke 17:5 and Mark 9:24)
I’ve been spending some time in the gospel of John. Not too far into chapter one, I found myself paying extra attention to everyone’s measure of faith. I read about how John the Baptist pointed to the glory of Christ every chance he got. I saw Andrew’s faith in Jesus and his eagerness to share it with his brother (Simon Peter). This trickle effect led to the very man that Christ would raise up as the foundation of the early church. And when Nathaneal heard and believed what Jesus said, Jesus invited him to see and witness “greater things than that”!!
Simply put, God can (and I like to think enjoys) turning my teeny splashes into tidal waves...
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