Hurt

Before I get tripped up in the length, magnitude, and etymology of that word, like the clichéd voice-over intro of a bad indie movie, I pause to admit what I often ignore, that I am hurt. I have been hurt. I am still hurt. I have hurt others. And it is unlikely that I will ever be able to move past that simple fact.

I know no one reads this blog. It is that assurance, that no one will ever know of this place or read these words, that I put this all out into the world in the hopes that the hurt might lessen some.

I spent the better part of my first 22 years of life trying to get my father to love me. A waste of time, I'm sure anyone would agree. Life isn't truly lived if it's spent on someone else's terms, but when you're a child, that kind of logic never really sinks in. It's black and white. You have a father, he hurt you, and then he left. When people love you, they don't hurt you and they don't leave. If he left, that means not only does he not want to stay, but he doesn't care that you want him to.

I don't know how to respond to people who tell me I need to get a boyfriend, get married, and settle down. I think if they could understand how much time I have wasted on one single, solitary man, they wouldn't think me so capable of what every other girl my age seems to be able to do. I don't want to fall in love. I don't want to fuck someone who can decide in a few years that I no longer mean anything to them. I don't want to be at the mercy of someone else and their romantic whims.

Right now, my father is depressed. He seems to have realized that some of the things he's done were wrong, that he's been blind. That is no comfort to me. Instead of facing reality and choosing to embrace what he did, he lets it consume him. Once again, it's all about him. I want to make him happy and if I knew how, I would. It's the one thing I can't seem to stop myself from doing: trying to make everyone happy.

God has blessed me beyond measure, and yet, when I look at this world, I can't help but feel alone with God, as if no one else knows who I am or cares. I know that no one else will know me and love me as much as God could. But sometimes, I think it would be nice if others could see a glimpse of the burden I carry and just acknowledge it. We could walk together maybe. That would be nice, I think.

Trudge

I'm not a very healthy person, physically or emotionally.

I constantly undermine my own legitimacy as a human, whether by ignoring the good that others see in me or talking about things that I don't really care about to avoid having an honest conversation that would actually matter. In so doing, I turn myself into a person even I don't like.

My body decided that, at the ripe old age of 22, my peak has passed. My body sucks at being a body. I am a doctor's dream patient. With everything that's wrong with me, he'd be a millionaire in no time, even faster were it not for my medical insurance. I've got von Willebrand's disease, so my blood is too thin. My ears are infected with otitis exertna, making ear infections and headaches inescapable. My allergies come straight from hell and a day that I can breathe is practically a miracle with the wacked-out asthma I enjoy. My particular brand of IBS gives me stomach and intestinal spasms and leaves me feeling nauseous pretty much all the time. The nerve damage in my back pains me daily. Eczema covers my skin. In the summer I look like a leper, the rashes covering my arms, legs, and feet. In the winter my hands crack open and bleed, dry and ugly.

For the sake of my happiness, I figured out pretty early that I had to make a joke out of all this or I'd lose the will to do anything other than lay in my bed all day. I don't know how I go on sometimes. I want to do more than I can. I've always wanted that and I just don't know how to want anything else.

Things Could Be Worse...

Four words used to keep me from a sure drop off the edge when life was at its most inexplicable.

"Things could be worse."

I'd say it all the time and the more I said it, the better I'd feel until I was back to my homeostatic "okay." As if, somewhere in the world, there existed a small village of people with crippling medical conditions, dead relatives, terrible fathers, stress, murder, hellish jobs, and rape solely to bolster me in my most selfish moments of despair.

I can see now how I've grown because even as those words flip through my mind in a particularly foul time in my young life, they are immediately amended by God's goodness.

Sure things could be worse. I bet Job said that to himself as he wondered what gruesome plan was unfolding before his eyes. But God is not the God of "things could be worse."

Hmm. Been sinning this whole time and didn't even know it...

Not unlike the beginning of one of the best Journey songs in the Universe...

Yesterday was a good day. It's after midnight and I've got you on my mind... :)

Still Weak

There are days when I feel too young to be of any use. I am surrounded by clever, devoted people decades older than me. I'm the baby.

Today, I am not new. I am ancient. Frail and broken and ravenous and destructive and completely ready to become dust. Go ahead and take me back. Make something better.

Make a person that can endure the overstimulating, fallacious melodrama of the hour. A person that can give their last measure of devotion in the dead of night to be told that they are cheap, callous, and exploitative. It is an unavoidable occurrence of reaching out to the people that need to be touched. You are always hurt when you try love outrageously in a world as torn and hopeless as this one. Even though I can't accept this today, I know that one day I will be able to receive condemnation for being guilty of living while Christen with a smile and a blessing.

But in this moment, I can't calm the rage that swells up in me, the indignation! I want my way, with truth and justice and mercy rushing out to aid me. I want the deceitful to be cut down. I want the meek and humble to be raised up, knowing that I am the former. I want to judge and I want to be judged, sins be damned. I want to hate.

But You didn't, not to your last breath. You were grace, You were love. So I close my mouth. I shut up and too slowly, the anger slips away, back in the darkest corner of my mind to strike again when someone else's small calamity shakes the world.

Today, I am asking for help. I need You to help me because I'm finished with everything. I'm tired of seeing the best be forced to settle with circumstances so unworthy of them, I start to feel physically ill while the most leech-like and despicable of pitiable humans suck away all that is good.

I joked this weekend that the water wasn't "over my head," but just below my shoulders. It's up to my neck. Please don't let me drown.

Appendix

Today, I am feeling very much like an appendix, a metaphor my friend Ashley described to me once. A thing that can be useful sometimes, but that no one really needs. It gets cut away, yet the body heals and, in time, does not even remember what used to be there.

I don't know how to be a person of value. I don't know how to do virtually anything. I see important, astonishingly wise, and brave people around me, moving in and with God and I do not know how to feel the way that they do, to harvest the passion that spurs them to carry on. I think I used to feel it, but sometimes I find myself wondering if I ever did.

Too much of the time, I feel alone with God. I don't know how to bridge the gap between myself and other people. I want to be understood but before I can do that, I have to understand others and I don't know how to do that either. I want more than I can have, I want to do more than I am able, and I want to love more than I am loved. But I don't know how to do that.

I sit and think of the ways my life has turned out, the ways I have seen good people hurt, demonized, and cut down, the ways I and others have been taken advantage of and my heart cries out. Why do I want people more than I want God? Why am I not satisfied with what I have? Why do I need more?

Why can't I be happy right now, in the beautiful moments of today?

Why do I feel so restless?

I am almost 22 years old. When do I learn how to be a person?

Truth + Thoughts From Saturday: Storm Seeking

Tonight, I am spending some time alone with some music and God (and obviously my laptop - an interesting combination) to meditate on the Thought and maybe get some resolution. As I got distracted by the Internet, my phone, and my own warp-speed thoughts about what the Fall semester is going to be like, the song The Truth by Relient k blasted through the TV sound system and I stopped dead in my tracks as the lyrics flowed through me.

"I've collected all these thoughts, and I'm dying just to lose them..."

"I'll just have to accept that my mind is inept and the only thing that's left for me to do is trust you..."

"Convince me, because I really need your help, convince me, because I can't see this for myself..."

"Put the emphasis on the evidence, begging for the proof, oh-oh-oh, sometimes the hardest thing to believe is the truth..."

"This is so unnerving, I know you've never lied to me before, but the things you're telling me, I can't yet believe, yet can't ignore..."

"Attempt to place our lives into your hands, confide in what you'll do..."

"It's a world full of cynics, who say to stay alive in it, you've got to stick with what you know..."

"But the heart is always aching for the soul to start taking a chance by letting go, so let go..."

"Sometimes when you're trying to sleep and all your doubts and your faith don't agree, it's 'cause sometimes the hardest thing to believe is the truth..."

It all just hit me head on, like God was tapping on the door of my heart. So I will live in the now until I hear something different and stop stressing so much (well, I'll try at the very least) over things that maybe I shouldn't be trying to change. I will also stop being awkward if I can. That would be good too.

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Thoughts From Saturday: Storm Seeking


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³⁵ That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side.” ³⁶ Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. ³⁷ A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. ³⁸ Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

³⁹ He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

⁴⁰ He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

⁴¹ They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

Mark 4:35-41

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Once again, I will offer a synopsis of why I am even bothering with this writing exercise. There are a few reasons, some of them more important to me than others. I do it because it is a helpful way for me to analyze Scripture and fold it into my beliefs – an opportunity to learn. I do it because my mouth sucks at being a mouth and when I talk in church I hardly ever end up saying what I actually think or anything of value. And the last reason is because, quite simply, I never want to find myself talking for the sake of hearing my own voice or showing other people how smart I can be. It is one of the most disgusting things I do and I try when at all possible to keep myself from doing it. This is one of those ways. /end_disclaimer

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That evening had been a vibrant discussion of the “storms of life” – a discussion which, I am sad to say, was over a month ago now. I can’t even remember the date. For shame! I have gotten out of typing up and organizing what I’ve written, but hopefully with the beginning of the fall semester comes a bit of structure and not a failure to type up these little passing thoughts I have.

I don’t remember everything that we talked about for the aforementioned pathetic excuses, but I do remember how I felt that night. As Garet proceeded through his sermon, I began to see where he was taking it and was more than happy to cede to his conclusions, if not a little sheepishly. I am not embarrassed by what I believe – it is only that my continued inability to believe in myself and what God can do through me and for me is one of the biggest stumbling blocks of my life. I say it here and now, without shame, if only because no one alive aside from myself and a few, sorry stragglers has ever or will ever read this blog – unless I trip over myself and my inane desires for simultaneous privacy/safety and companionship.

But enough of my own personal failings. To the Gospel reading, Batman!

We’ve all heard this story. Jesus is sleeping and a storm comes up out of nowhere. The disciples are freaking out as the boat is battered by the wind and the waves – they are hanging on for dear life. The storm has no seeming end in sight and they are all frightened. And they are more than a little irritated with Jesus.

“Don’t you care if we drown?” they ask.

I shiver when I read those words because they are only too recognizable. How often do I complain about what I am going through? How often do I look around me at the storm I’m in and subtly try to guilt God into giving me my life as I would have it, as if he can’t see right through me? Talk about ungratefulness!

I don’t mean to exaggerate my life. I don’t know that I’ve ever turned away from God so violently and absolutely that my life has fallen into a pit of what we would consider calamitous sin. But the gradual decline and the sudden turnabout can be just as devastating to spiritual health. When we refuse to evaluate ourselves and how aligned we are to God’s will, that gives the devil the opportunity to wreak havoc on the state of our souls.

In most of the storms of my life, I’ve heard people say “count your blessings,” and nearly every time I heard it, this sick feeling would rise up in me and I felt like either throwing up or giving that person a piece of my mind. Count my blessings? Who invented that trite, devoid-of-feeling phrase? What human alive on this planet honestly believes that a person genuinely hurt and broken wants to hear that they should just shut up and be grateful that it’s not worse? No matter how true the words may be, hearing them in the middle of a storm still feels like being kicked in the face.

Jesus offers no such clichés. His words are authentic and compelling. He doesn’t rail at the disciples for daring to suggest that he would rather take a nap and let them drown than take the second or two it would cost him to save them all, despite the fact that he’d be well within his rights to do so. He doesn’t refuse to help them because they’ve come to guilt him for relief from their storm, which is probably what most of us would do when presented with that kind of attitude. Instead, he offers a dose of God’s reality.

In an instant, the winds have died down and the sky is clear and the waters are still.

Jesus asks, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

That cuts me to the quick because, true to form, Jesus gets right to the heart of the matter. We try to navigate on our own. Even the disciples did. It was only when the storm was reaching the point of destroying them that they turned to him, annoyed and expectant. We try to act like storms are God’s way of punishing us and if he doesn’t swoop in and end it when we want him to, that must mean he doesn’t care about us. I don’t know how much more wrong that could be.

You can get into an entire argument here about the morality of God “sending” storms, what God does and doesn’t do, and what Jesus’ promises of life really mean. But if you did, you would be missing the point.

Storms can be hell, there is no denying that. Yet those moments of sheer panic and frustration, of loss and heartache, of anger and acceptance – those are the moments that bring us closest to God. When we are down and ready to quit, tired and anxious and impatient and broken, we have two choices. We can lose ourselves in our own struggle or we can recognize that we need God. And when we do, as the disciples did (though, rather ungratefully), he delivers! Always! He might not do what we want or what we expect, but that just goes back to my favorite old saying of Sunday School.

“Do we know everything?”

“NO.”
“Does God know everything?”
“YES.”
“So who should we trust in?”
“GOD… Miss Christen, when is snack?”

It all comes down to that, really. If we truly believe in God and love God and trust God as much as we say we do, then we need to act on it daily and, most decidedly, in times of trouble. As hard as it would be to rejoice in the storm, we can still choose to recognize that it is a time for us to move with God and remember that he is always there for us as no one else could ever be.

(On a side note, I feel like this post isn’t as collected and polished as they normally are, and for that, I am sorry. Hmm. Should have written it on that Saturday. Lesson learned!)

In Christ,

Christen

Writing Creature

As I plunge once more into the second draft of Proxy, I find myself forgetting what I've learned about being a writing creature.

1. If you write late at night, you will get up late the next day. It is inevitable.
    a.) Saying that you slept in over "nothing" is not true, either. You were
         working.
    b.) Working in the afternoon/early evening is always the best time to write.
          And sometimes you must forgo that to spend time with family and fulfill
          obligations, which is nothing to feel guilty about.
2. Even if no one ever reads your book, YOU HAVE STILL CREATED
    SOMETHING. Something that wouldn't have existed without you, Nee-chan.
3. Dear God, let someone read your book. It will be okay, even if they hate it.
    You need people and people need you.

With that said, to the Microsoft Word, Batman! I have thousands of words still to write!

Today, I came to the following conclusion...

I make things that are not weird... weird. Seriously. It's a problem.

Weak

I still have a Thoughts From Saturday post to formulate (Storm seeking!), but I am just so angry and frustrated right now, I have to get it out before I aim it at the innocent.

I am so completely beyond tired of people who use Jesus as a way to get what they want under the guise of trying to seek a real relationship with him. Who use Jesus to guilt people into giving them the kind of help that they want. Who parade their shambles of faith as if that makes them better than the people they seek to harm. Who do their best to make other peoples' lives about them and their conflicts and their struggles and their needs, as if their concerns are the only ones that matter.

Do you really have no concept of what sharing life means? Do you really not understand that not everything is about you? Jesus didn't die so that you'd never have to lift a finger again, so that life would become an easy path with a predictable finish. He died so that you would serve, so that you, like him, would go to the dark places and offer a little of your light. So that you would stop thinking in terms of ME, ME, ME and think in terms of HIM, HIM, HIM.

If you can honestly say such things without a trace of regret or just a moment's pause, I really don't know who you are at all. I find peace in the fact that God does. If all you are looking for is to be filled by your definitions of what spiritual is, then you will never be happy here.
It hurts my heart to see you so carelessly rip apart the people who have loved you when no one else would, who have done their best to strengthen and uphold you despite the things you've done. But I shouldn't be surprised and I shouldn't complain. My life is meant to be lived as conduit from Jesus to the people that need him, and sometimes, that means getting out of the way.

I really hope you find what you are looking for because I know that I cannot be the one to offer you what you want. But I'll always be here to offer you what you need when you are ready to accept it.

Again With The Writing of the Words!

So, this marks the second day I have written down stuff. Boo-yah! A pathetic two-day streak is born!

Today, I woke up with a hell of a stomach ache. I slept late, had a sinus headache, and felt nauseous for my first two waking hours. Not a great start to the day. But my mother, the kind, generous soul that she is, bought me a fountain Pepsi and Chinese food, which was one of the few things that sounded good to my fussy stomach. The Singapore Chow Mei Fun is enough to last my entire work week and the two crab rangoon that I ate... ah, c'est magnifique. Seriously. I have the best mom.

I did  have to clean the roaches off the floor at church and work downstairs, so that was a damper on the start of my work day. Nauseous stomach + dead roaches = BARF. So glad I kept from getting sick. That would have sucked majorly.

I got a sweet 43 Things reminder for myself about my goal 'have someone fall in love with me' (which sparked a hilarious conversation with Lauren later - "They need to do all the work, I see. You just sit there and they come to you."). The Thought is still thought, but today, I actually didn't mind it so much. It was kind of nice to just let things be and not fight it.

I missed Courtney today, and strangely, Rebekah and Anna. It's strange to see someone every day on vacation and then not at all for days at a time. I haven't seen any of them since Sunday. Weird.

I got quite a bit of work done and Common-Unity is slowly but surely coming to life around us. Lots more people are around the church and we have more volunteers when the time comes for things to get done. It's nice to see.

I'm trying not to focus too much on the fall semester and just enjoy my break for the summer, the first summer since I started college where I won't have a class. It's very nice. It's just hard to relax when I think of my internship, my future niece/nephew, taking over for Courtney while she's on maternity leave, how my IBS will affect school and work, if I'll still be thinking the Thought. Oh, and Django Unchained. I totes want to see that. I also wish that the Lizzie Bennet diaries just updated every time I wanted them to. Because now it would be finished and I would be watching it through to the end. Ah. Such a good web series.

Wow, some of this is super bad writing. But... I am tired and too lazy for anything but brevity (she says, after several long-winded paragraphs of nothingness). And a woman of questionable health. So nyah.

Don't really know what to call this...

... But this is me, trying to get back to writing every day, even if it is just a sum of my thoughts about the wild happenings of my day to day life this summer. Oh, sarcasm. May you flow forthwith.

Thoughts From Saturdays will hopefully continue. I like to think that I'll be going to Saturday church a lot more in the future, but with that Still-Thought Thought and health issues, it may prove to be difficult. Still, I like going to overhear the discussion - it really gives definition to my spiritual life. It gives me time to stop and ponder parts of the Bible I may have glossed over in my furious attempt to read the entire Bible (3/4 of the way there, baby).

I honestly don't know where to begin. I had a doctor's appointment today. Blah, standard, I know. Not really newsworthy. But turns out I have IBS, a totally lame and kinda embarrassing affliction that I will get to enjoy for the rest of my natural life. It was hard to just hear my doctor (and when I say doctor, I mean specialist, because, Good Lord, what we had to go through to find the wonderful Dr. Lewis and the pill that is currently allowing me to function) say it so bluntly. As I right this, I am experiencing a delightful "flare-up" from God knows what, and as I'm sure you can tell, I'm really happy about it.

It is hard to feel anything but bitter about this and at the same time, I recognize my entire selfishness and piss-poor, bitchy attitude about it. I mean, I survived ADE, asthma, eczema, swine flu and bronchitis simultaneously, depression, Von Willebrand's disease, mono, allergies, tonsilitis. Just add IBS to the list and move on... I just can't help but feel a teeny, tiny bit like the life I knew before, however annoying and trivial it was, is gone. I no longer get to enjoy food. It is now my enemy. If I could survive without eating, I would. I no longer get to do things like swinging on swings, running, exercising vigorously, swimming, etc. because as soon as I do, my stomach begins to act like a too-full balloon that is being stepped on by a robust and bratty child trying to pop it.

But still. My life could be so much worse! Everyone could hate me. I could be a high school dropout. I could have been wildly disfigured in the car accident I caused. I could have gone to jail because of said car accident. I could have terribly mean and authoritarian parents who do not let me live in their house for 100 bucks a month. I could have no friends. I could have no bed to sleep on, no shower to use, no water to drink, no clothes to wear, and no food to eat, no matter how much havoc that food may cause inside my poor excuse for a digestive system. It could be WAY worse.

People could know about the Thought I have thought and now cannot Unthink. That would be pretty bad. At least for me. It might be enjoyable for some people. Some, dare I say, may find it hilarious. Probably as funny as I would find it if I could just. Stop. Thinking. It. Seriously, any day now, brain, you will grow up and learn to discard stuff like that immediately.

Clearly, I am in a bad mood. Clearly, I need sleep. Clearly, I should stop reading Fruits Basket and my terrible novel and stop watching The Lizzie Bennet diaries and old VlogBrothers videos I missed and stop writing whiny, self-indulgent drivel on my blog that no one reads and go to bed.

Thoughts From Saturday: Waiting For God

¹In my former book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and to teach ² until the day he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles he had chosen. ³ After his suffering, he presented himself to them and gave many convincing proofs that he was alive. He appeared to them over a period of forty days and spoke about the kingdom of God. ⁴ On one occasion, while he was eating with them, he gave them this command: “Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promised, which you have heard me speak about. ⁵ For John baptized with^[a] water, but in a few days you will be baptized with^[b] the Holy Spirit.”

⁶ Then they gathered around him and asked him, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?”
⁷ He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority. ⁸ But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”
⁹ After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight.
¹⁰ They were looking intently up into the sky as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. ¹¹ “Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.”
                                                                                                            -Acts 1:1-11

As is becoming the routine for me in Saturday gatherings, I am ready to burst out my immediate thoughts on the passage for our discussion and I hold them in, knowing what truncated monstrosity of blah will flow forth if I open my mouth. Wisely (I hope), I shut up and let others do the talking in the inevitably uncomfortable silence that follows the questions asked, waiting for someone else to say something of value. I don’t want to sound like an idiot and still more, I don’t want to speak simply for the attention I know that I’ll get, however brief.

Stupidly, I didn’t write down the discussion questions. I’ll have to remember to do that next week! The main question was this:

What is the importance of the ascension of Jesus? Why should we celebrate it, rather than overlook it as often happens in preparation for Pentecost?

To me, there is an explicit and implicit importance in this passage. An obvious interpretation and a latent interpretation. The first clear thought that comes to mind is the reminder that Jesus is so much more than a man. In the time Jesus spends among his disciples (now apostles – that distinction was very interesting to learn!), they live as teacher and students. With such a personal relationship with Jesus—a face to face, in your face kind of relationship—I imagine it must have been hard for the apostles to remember that Jesus was not just the friendly, wise rabbi. He had been sent from Heaven on a mission to reach his people, to end the barriers between them that their sins had created. His sacrifice was complete and Jesus prepared to give the apostles their orders, what he expected them to do with everything he has said, the commands he had given that came straight from his Father in Heaven.

The apostles were comfortable. They were in the safe part of the teacher-student relationship; there was no real spiritual risk in just hearing what Jesus had to say. A physical risk, sure, but spiritually, they can choose to twist Jesus’ words to suit their own versions of God’s will. Time after time, we see the disciples getting lost in Jesus’ teachings, confused by what he means, arguing amongst themselves, and “majoring in the minors”, not unlike some of us today. But in this passage, they then find out that Jesus expects them to do something with the knowledge he’s been giving them, something that will change the world.

I liked Garet’s metaphor of the mother bird pushing her baby birds out of the nest, hoping that they’ll fly. Jesus does the same here, very much in the style of Pastor Pete’s Know-Do-Become model of faith. The disciples know what Jesus expects. He’s given them commands that they struggle to discern and made promises he will fulfill in God’s timing. Jesus tells them it is time to go and do.

In the wonderful style of our God, he doesn’t leave them floundering. He promises to send them the Holy Spirit, who will help them become like Jesus. This passage is explicitly a testament to the wondrous power of Jesus, that he is unlike any other man to walk this earth because he is not of this world.

The implicit meaning is more subjective, so this is when I add my personal flavor to this passage. :)

Jesus leaves the apostles in a place of waiting, which in my opinion is one of the most uncomfortable places to be. When I heard that phrase used—“place of waiting”—my mind instantly jumped to the song Everlasting God, which says, “Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord.” What a powerful lyric! The apostles are waiting for God’s promise of the Holy Spirit to be fulfilled and as they do, if they trust in him, they can expect their strength to rise to match what is coming, a life of sacrifice and love, a life of telling others the Good News.

Places of waiting are uncomfortable and in my experience, they are also the places where spiritual growth occurs. When I am waiting for God, I am at my most vulnerable because I am not in control of my own situation. I am letting go of my innate human desire to be independent. I am letting God be in control, as he is meant to be. I am relying on God’s past promises fulfilled to his people to find the courage to believe that he will fulfill the ones he makes to me.

This place of waiting is the time for the apostles to deepen their relationships with God because to fulfill the Great Commission, they will need to be in step with God’s will. That is not to say they shouldn’t be already, but it is a time of refocusing. It is a time to reflect on the words of Jesus so that when the Holy Spirit descends, they are prepared to go and make disciples of their own.

I think that is what the “men in white” are for. The apostles are prepared to, as Garet said, remain in that place of awe, standing in wonder at the power of Jesus. The angels remind them of what Jesus has said, letting them know plainly that they should be ready to act, no pun intended.

And we should be ready to do the same.

-Christen

Top 5 Dumbest Things I've Ever Done

1. Failed to look one last time before pulling out of Claire Street and thus, we have my car accident of 2008.

2. Went to that wedding with my dad even though I didn't want to. Didn't even occur to me to say "NO."

3. Tried to take care of MRSA on my own.

4. Wrote a letter to a girl who was mean to me and left it on her doorstep. Totally passive-aggressive...

5. Accidentally thought a Thought and now cannot Unthink the Thought.

Thoughts From Saturday: The Nature of Sin

This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. ⁶ If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. ⁷ But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.
⁸ If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. ⁹ If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. ¹⁰ If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word is not in us.
                                                              -1 John 1:5-10

Despite the myriad of thoughts that pass through my brain during our wildly awesome Saturday night worship discussions, I rarely ever say what is on my mind. I could be all noble and say it's because I don't ever want to say something just for the satisfaction of being noticed (which is one of the most disgusting things I can think of that I unfortunately do occasionally), but it is mainly because my mouth sucks at being a mouth. Seriously, my brain has all these great, coherent, and collected thoughts that my mouth, in a display of jerkwaddery that mouths are capable of, refuses to say. My words tumble out in half-formed, drifter-with-a-tinfoil-hat fashion. So I don't talk. That is usually the reason I'm being quiet in any given situation. Sometimes, I'm quiet because it's appropriate (like when someone else is speaking - seriously, some other people would do well to learn this). Sometimes I'm quiet because nothing needs to be said. But most of the time, I'm not being quiet so much as refraining from looking or sounding like an idiot.

I don't think there is anything remarkable in my understanding of the Bible or the world, but I am continually astounded by some people's confusion when it comes to some of the most (in my humble opinion) straightforward passages of the Bible. I mean, generally, my confusion tends to arise from Old Testament readings. The rituals trip me up, I pointlessly ponder the meaning behind certain phraseology, and the parts bogged down with names of kings and their children and their children's children and their children's children's children... It makes it hard for me to feel grounded and focused.

But the New Testament is so engaging! Jesus speaks in these pages in a way that's impossible to miss. It is hard for some to relate to the Son of God, who was perfect in every way as a human. None of us have ever come close to the perfection of Jesus, yet through the lives of Peter, Paul, and the new church, we are given a glimpse of how to live God's way that is just beautiful and inspiring.

When I read 1 John, I considered the context first. I don't know much about Biblical interpretation, but I do know that the fastest way to get utterly lost in the Bible is to fail to consider the context of the passage you're reading. From my rudimentary understanding of the Bible, I assumed it to be a letter to a young church from John, a disciple of Jesus, and indeed, it is.

John bluntly offers a stark reality. In God, there simply is no room for darkness. To be complete in him, perfectly whole and new as God is, there can be no trace of sin. It is a daunting statement, to be sure, and seemingly impossible to live up to. It may even make you question why you should even try at all, when you're destined for failure. And that kind of logic is the problem. That, right there.

We can't say that God is our Father, the all-powerful Creator that he is, and then declare that it is impossible for him to do something. That is making God too small, a God to fit in our pocket and carry around with us for comfort from life's miseries. And I don't want a pocket God. Think about it: if He asks us to live without sin, the Father of love who seeks to draw us to Him, wouldn't that denote the obvious potential in us to live as holy, set-apart-for-God individuals, who live without sin? Take that logic all the way to the end of the road, through verses 8-10. If we can't be saved, if we will never be capable of living without sin, then doesn't that make Jesus' horrific, torturous death completely meaningless?

This is also where the context helpfully comes into play. John is speaking to a young church, a church full of sin. A church seeking to truly unite with God for the first time. Think of it as the young sinner who is just coming to know God. John speaks in sweeping, unnuanced statements. Live without sin and you will know God as fully as he knows you. Continue to sin and that simply cannot happen.

This immediately brings up the nature of sin. Clearly, there are questions of morality that are answered in the same way by most people (like the 10 Commandments - most people believe that these are laws no person should break), but there are unquestionably areas of sin that are grayer than others in the world we live in. Social lies, drinking alcohol, homosexuality, smoking, premarital sex... These are things we have to decide for ourselves and it is in trying to apply a universal way of living that everyone must follow that we betray ourselves.

There is one me. No one else, past, present, or distant future, has or will have my wealth of experiences, my view of life, my relationships, my convictions, my calling, my dreams. It is foolish to try to make the Bible fit one person's understanding. There are undoubtedly parts that are universal but I can't think of anything more wonderful and intimate than how the Bible can become such a personal book, a guide to living meant literally for me.

My understanding of sin leads me to believe that John's definition of sin is an intentional denial of God's will. It is when I substitute my own desires for God's perfect plans. As life goes on and our understandings deepen, I think it is possible to be aware of more sin in our lives. I don't think that this should be terrifying or breed a sense of hopelessness in readers. It shows that if we sin, God will tell us. He doesn't want us to live apart from Him. He wants us close to Him and I feel that anyone who earnestly reads the Word and seeks Him out will be rewarded for that, not smothered in accusations and crushed by our own iniquities.

This can be a confusing passage, I know that. And I understand why people call the Bible the Living Word. It is a book that still resonates today, obvously, but it also requires a dedication to deciphering it that some people are just not interested in. Courtney mentioned 1 Corinthians 13 and that is what my mind jumped to as I witnessed people struggling to make sense of this passage. This chapter says that our knowledge is partial and will always be incomplete until God comes again to make us whole, to make our knowledge in Him complete. Until then, our understandings will always be partial. It is an important thing to remember when our frustrations with the Bible descend on us.

Above all, this passage should be uplifting. Jesus died so brutally to bring us closer to God, in a sinless, loving relationship that is 100 percent possible for anyone truly looking to experience it. That's my take-away. <3

Until next Saturday,
Christen