AlphaSmart

In 7^th grade I took a typing class. It was required. Too many 13 year-olds were shoved into a tiny room with tiny keyboards and spent hours each week with paper covering our hands typing books of the Bible as fast as we could. Each week we took a typing test. The fastest and most accurate typist got to use the REAL computer the next week. They got to sit at a full sized desk where they could stretch out their elbows and actually see all of their words as they worked. The rest of us sat with our little AlphaSmart keyboards and only saw three lines of text at a time.

                                                                                              source: google images

I got to sit at the real computer once. One of the girls in our class was from England and she had taken typing lessons for years. She almost always got to use the real computer.

Practice pays off.

This morning I am preparing for a class, Missional Church. It is my task to read everything I can by and about Dietrich Bonhoeffer and speak from his perspective as our class comes together to discuss the church. As I read primary sources and gather quotes I am thankful for those hours in that tiny room as I learned to type quickly without looking at my keyboard. I now move nimbly through the necessary task of quotation and get on with the more pertinent task of considering what these words mean for the essence of the church.

I complained daily about keyboarding class when I was in the midst of it.

This week God is inviting me and guiding me to rest in the unknown.

Right now, I am in a season of preparation. Seminary can be defined as “seed bed”. I like that image a lot…but sometimes it is hard working with seeds. They can be so tiny and nondescript.

Sometimes it is hard being a seed. Sometimes the dirt is dark and cold and you know you are buried in it for a reason but you wish more than anything you could know what that reason is. What will it look like when you finally push up through the surface? What will the fruit be? What seemingly mundane tasks will I look back upon with gratitude? How are these friendships and committees and jobs and prayer and scripture coming together and forming me to be more like Christ? How will I emerge and serve out of my transformation?

In life, as in 7^th grade keyboarding, we often only see a few lines of text at a time. There are moments we sit at the teacher’s desk with words sprawled out in front of us. There are moments when we have a glimpse of what life will be like after the AlphaSmart exile. But those moments are few and far between.

It is only through faith in my graceful, loving God that I have a shot at navigating this time peacefully.

It is through experience that I proclaim that God is faithful and working even when I don’t know how…even when I can’t see all of the text…even when the seeds are not yet a garden.

Rest. Rest in the unknown. 

full of thanks

Today I am thankful.

Thankful that God is beyond my pronouncement that “I am out of grace”[1].

Thankful that despite these past moments/days/weeks/years I am loved just as I am.

Thankful that I am too loved to be left as I am.

Today I am thankful.

Thankful for the sun and the cool weather.

Thankful for tears and laughter and the ability to feel.

Thankful for wise words and friends that are willing to simply be.

Thankful for phone calls, texts, and trees.

Thankful for water and food.

Thankful for God’s provision and even God’s timing.

Today I am thankful…

…and I am finding amidst the chaos that I am thankful for this anchor.

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[1] Uttered by me yesterday evening when the world and everyone in it - especially me - was dark and irritating. 

I am restless for reconciliation

Definition: Atonement- the reconciliation of God and humankind through the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ; reparation for an offense or injury. [Merriam-Webster]

I am restless for reconciliation; reconciliation in the lives of all humans and for the pangs of all creation; reconciliation for my restless heart and skewed self-worth; reconciliation for broken families; reconciliation for the hurt and hurting church.

“hurting people hurt people”…I don’t know who said this originally, but I know it wasn’t me. However, this phrase has become deeply personal to me over the past months. I have been meditating upon it heavily in the past weeks. We are hurting and, intentionally or not, we hurt.  

“Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective” (James 5:16).

Last week I participated in confession. I knew that I needed to do this for months. I knew who I needed to confess to. I was honest about my past hurting and hurt with a best friend. She has walked closely with me through a time of the deepest suffering and questioning I have experienced…so far…and I trust her. She is an incredible example of faith and trust and deep commitment and relationship with God. Tuesday night I chronicled for her, and for me, ten years of decisions I regret and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I explained, in detail, elements of ten years that I successfully convinced myself I would never have to deal with or return to. Ten years that were drenched in shame, misplaced self-worth, and marked by a grasping for control. I never wanted anyone to know these things. Not in a real way that displayed my brokenness. But now someone does.

There are people who were there with me through these times, so it’s not as if my life has been full of secrets…but I have always been a leader and I masked my choices and hurting to protect my reputation. In high school I led small groups at church and on mission trips. In college I led high school students and freshmen and sophomores; I led our student body and Aggie family. In seminary I am preparing to one day lead in the church and world in some way; even as I lead in it now. In the trenches of these times of my life I struggle to present myself in a way that appears that I have it all together. I am always desperately afraid of what people will do/think when they find out how much I screw everything up. Will they still respect me enough to want me in their life? Will they still respect me enough to allow me to lead?

Lately, I have been all about friendship; real, deep, messy, uncomfortable, life-giving friendship.  I don’t think we have enough of this in our culture- I still don’t have enough of this in my life. There are too many people like me; people who are desperate for others to see them for who they should be, rather than for who they are.

Our world is hurting and therefore we will get hurt; and that makes me want to protect myself. It makes me want to hold my secrets tight so that I can “righteously” convict others…so that we can be viewed as “worthy” of our callings. But when we are honest, first with ourselves and God, we are freed to experience redemption. We are freed to see and experience the power of God’s grace and reconciliation through the Son. We are freed to see that it’s not our place to convict. Over time, as we wrestle with God and with ourselves I believe God graciously brings people into our lives, or allows us to recognize those that are already there, who will love us despite the mess. People we can trust. I want to be that person for others because I am so grateful for those that have been that for me. I pray for that opportunity. What I have found through God answering that prayer is scary. Because, for better or for worse, if I expect people to trust me…I also have to trust them. I have to be willing to share and be hurt and be ready to forgive and to beg for forgiveness. That’s hard. That’s scary. I am not good at it. Some days I question if I really want to be.  

And then I am reminded. I am reminded of what trusting God with my shame has done. It has allowed me to be in relationship with my God in a way that I have yearned for since I was baptized at 9 years old. It has allowed me to have genuine relationships that are both challenging and encouraging. God has allowed me to earnestly pray to see and love others the way Jesus does. I have seen God faithfully answer that prayer as my heart breaks over and over for those hurting. God has provided friendship in unlikely places. God has provided the beginnings of the slow process of rebuilding relationships that I have cast aside for years.

So, I am restless for reconciliation. I am restless for this huge, faith-testing and faith-affirming reconciliation to be experienced personally by all in their deepest selves and their most broken relationships. I am restless for this because I believe deep within me that this is the essence of the life-giving power of the cross. The cross, and the relationship with God that it allows, fills me with love and hope…and I must share.   

Should I?

I should be writing a paper right now. I should be preparing a presentation. I should be reading an ancient text. I should be answering discussion questions. Instead, I am reading through old blogs and prayers. 

Should’s are dangerous. 

I should be over this by now. I should have my future figured out. I should stop procrastinating. I should be a better friend. I should be more independent. I should be deeper in community. 

Should’s make me feel defined by productivity and progress…or lack thereof. Should’s are a list of things I feel I can accomplish by sheer will.

I can’t take credit for this revelation. I keep reading about not succumbing to the should’s. I read about it in blogs. I read about it in assignments relating to my spiritual well-being. I hear it from across the table at lunch with a friend. Yet, inadvertently I started this post with a list of should’s. 

I should probably learn this lesson.

But I can’t. Not on my time anyway. Not by my strength.  

The fact is there is no timeline. The fact is my growth is not by my strength.

Who defines the should anyway? Certainly not me.  Except, that’s not true. It is me...at least partially. I think should’s come from my future self--an idealized, subconscious image of who I could be if I would only do what I should. This future self meets and exceeds everyone’s expectations. This future self impresses God and is worthy of love.

The problem is, on the days that I do actually accomplish a should…there is another one just waiting to taunt me.

But who am I now? 

Who should I be at 24 versus who am I at 24? Unfortunately I don’t have a clear answer for either option. 

The should is elusive and the am is fluid.

I get frustrated when I can’t wrap my fingers or my brain around something. I feel that I can’t claim something that I can’t articulate. If I can’t articulate who I am, should I claim who I am?

So I pray. I ask God who God is and I ask God who I am. And I don’t yet have many clear answers, but it isn't as foggy as it once was. The should’s are starting to fade and the am is beginning to take shape. I am learning to rest and enjoy the ride. I am learning who I am in Christ...slowly but surely. 

Funny how this happens when I finally at least attempt to give up control and productivity and let go of what I think I should be doing. 

And by funny...I mean humbling. 

I wrote should 25 times in this post...how many times did you think/say it today? 

Echo Valley

There is a place that holds pieces of me; frozen snapshots of my former selves lay out along the bank of the Frio River. I think the self I love returning to most is the seventh grader. The one with the long mismatched volleyball socks and flip flops crammed between my toes. The one dragging a blanket across the wet morning grass because she forgot fall could feel like this and shorts, socks and long sleeves just aren’t enough. She is completely unprepared but also completely unfazed and living in the moment.

I like the image of that seventh grader because she doesn’t care. She is all there; laughing and anticipating God will show up. She is surrounded by people that love her. She has traveled safely through the winding, hilly roads of the Texas Hill Country. The doors of a van were flung wide open so she could see and hear the tires splashing through the shallow river. She descended deep into a valley where there was no hope for cell phone service- she could only be where she was. She got off the van wrapped tight in a blanket and she stared at the sky...and she really saw the stars. 

I want to live every day like this. I want to live every day like these beginning moments of my first Great Fall Retreat. Where there is no expectation, just anticipation. Something inside me says I can…and as my roommate says, “that’s a start”.  

fighting words

Living for Christ means I must fight my sinful nature at every moment. It means choosing Christ and denying myself ALL DAY LONG.

It means I have to stop and recognize that when I am annoyed at someone/thing I must step back and question what is really going on in my heart. Why am I REALLY upset?

I've learned that in all likelihood it’s not actually because someone next to me is humming or laughing while I am trying to concentrate. What is probably going on is that I am frustrated or confused over something in my life that has nothing to do with my immediate situation. I’d say this is true about 90% of the time. Either way, regardless of the trigger and what I attribute it to, I am visibly annoyed.

For years I shrugged off my temperament as “this is just me, you either love all of me or you don’t; and if you don’t, I won’t blame you or care if you choose not to spend your time with me”.

But my actions affect others. My attitude creates either an environment of acceptance or an environment of tension. People don’t always have the choice to remove themselves from my company. The attitude I described above is not loving. 

Thankfully I am not alone. As I pursue a relationship with God, God is simultaneously, and more persistently, pursuing me. Loving me. Showing me grace. Answering my prayers when I feel my emotions running away from me. Giving me strength to let go and trust when I recognize that I once again am trying to seize control and take a path that makes me feel safe.

One of the most freeing prayers I ever pray is simply: “Help”.

This blog is an exercise in obedience. I alluded to that in my first post but I’m going to elaborate upon it here. This blog is me fighting my nature to hold my shame and fears close to my chest while I pretend to have it all together.

For years I meant to blog. There was a brief stint in high school where I dabbled in the world of Live Journal (or “eljay” as I cleverly obnoxiously referred to it). 

When I was in Russia and Ecuador writing was my connection to home. It was the way I communicated with the people who prayed for me and/or supported me financially and helped allow for my travel. When I returned to the States I was affirmed again and again over my writing. People I never expected told me they looked forward to my updates; that they shared them with others.

I used to think of myself as an open person, using these posts and my willingness to answer any question as proof; but I have realized recently that I am only open about the pretty things. The things that are not pretty that I share I do so in such a way that they are veiled and vague so I am not judged or discredited. I realize now that I share the messy things only when so much time has passed that I can tie things up neatly and say “but look how much I learned” or so that I am able to laugh them off as childish and behind me.

This is a problem.

Too often those things are not behind me. My flippancy is a sign that they are still there, I am just not dealing with them.

This is not only crippling me, but also crippling my relationships. I think it is crippling my witness and I am robbing myself of the opportunity, and shirking my responsibility, to stand before people broken and proclaim that “God still loves me…even despite all of this, Christ’s death on the cross is enough, I am forgiven”.

Just like it matters that I personally understand WHY I am annoyed and get to the heart of that and deal with it…it also matters that I share the brokenness that I discover. It matters that I claim it and stop pretending to have it all together.

I don’t know where the line is in regards to sharing life with others. I don’t know if there really is a clear-cut line. I think it takes time to build trust and I think we should protect the privacy of those who are a part of the messy parts of our stories.

We don’t have to share everything with everyone.

I won’t share everything on this blog.

But, I will continue to actively ask for help and search my heart for the areas where I struggle and allow myself to be open and vulnerable with others as the Spirit leads me.

That is why this blog is an experiment in obedience. It is saying yes to vulnerability. It is facing my fear of saying something wrong; of putting my name on something and having to account for it. Of saying something true and right and being criticized all the same. It is humbly admitting that I am not doing this on my own. 

Deep down I am a people pleaser. I want to control and protect my image and how people think of me.

I think we all do.

But, I also think we are all crying out from our souls for someone to be real with us…so that we can have someone to be real with in turn.  

the man under my house

I grew up around houses. I lived in one. I watched them being built. I watched them being sold. I built my own out of Lincoln logs on my grandparent’s floor.

Two rules for Lincoln logs with Papa: whoever dumps them out of the bucket has to pick them up, and no matter what you always start your house with a strong foundation.

I was always the one who dumped them out of the bucket.

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Tonight, there was a man under the floor of my house. Right now, there is dirt all over the inside of my house, FROM UNDERNEATH MY HOUSE. Weird. I understand that my home is not built on a concrete slab of a foundation…but really…there’s just dirt under there?

So we had roaches. Apparently, the good kind. Our kind didn’t fly, or reproduce uncontrollably. Or something. Either way they were roaches and they kept drowning themselves in our sink. So today the exterminator(s) came.

The first one showed up early. He was almost done by the time we even got home from work. All I had to do when I walked in the door was sign so he could charge my credit card. Perfect.

Really, it was perfect.

When exterminator #1 was about to leave he got a call from exterminator #2, who would be inspecting for termites. I didn’t have any firm plans so I said sure, have him come as soon as he can. Later exterminator #2 called me and made sure I still wanted him to come. This was at 6:45…their window was 5:00-7:00pm…just under the wire exterminator #2, but sure come on over…should only take about 45 minutes to an hour? 

Sounds great.

Some quick texting and I had dinner with a group of friends set up for 8pm, just the perfect amount of time according to my calculations and exterminator #2’s timeline.

It ended up being one of those nights that you look around as you are talking to exterminator #2’s children on your driveway (wondering why his kids were there…so were we) and think this is just ridiculous.

Then, all of a sudden, one of the children says “I know your friend, she was our leader at VBS last week”. And you think “sure that makes sense, she must have seen Jess come home”

…except she didn’t. She recognized her picture on our fridge…which she saw from the porch through the window on our back door. Because she is a child on a service call, and kids do and say whatever they want. 

And THAT is when you realize just how weird it all is.

I didn’t get to meet friends for dinner until after 9:00…I didn’t even bother ordering because I didn’t want them to have to keep waiting. I scammed food off my friend’s plate. Not the enchiladas I was craving. Not even close.

I have a tendency to get really irritated and super frustrated when things mess up my plans. Especially when I feel like I am letting people down (it was my idea to have dinner and I barely made it there before the restaurant closed).  But as I sat on my couch thinking about the amount of stuff I have to put back in cabinets and the amount of dirt I need to get off my floor and the possibility of termites or that the wood holding up my house might rot…I prayed.

I prayed for patience and I prayed that I could show love and show grace even when I was being inconvenienced. And I hope I did that. I do know that after talking with this man’s children that I’m not going to call and complain to his supervisor about the various things I wanted to at first.

Tonight children helped me understand a little more about seeing people for more than the service they are providing me. They are awesome kids and he seems like a great dad.

I want to be better at loving people. I want to be better at seeing people the way Jesus sees them.

Loving people means being willing to be inconvenienced; to have your plans put on hold. But it also means having a pretty amusing conversation with a ten-year-old and a seven-year-old on your front porch on a Thursday night.

Plus, at the end of the day I have to remember that Jesus was a lot more than inconvenienced because of his love for me.