Categorical Christianity

“The matter is quite simple. The Bible is very easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know very well that the minute we understand it, we are obliged to act accordingly. Take any words in the New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that my whole life will be ruined. How would I ever get on in the world?

Herein lies the real place of Christian scholarship. Christian scholarship is the Church’s prodigious invention to defend itself against the Bible, to ensure that we can continue to be good Christians without the Bible coming too close. Oh, priceless scholarship, what would we do without you? Dreadful it is to fall into the hands of the living God. Yes, it is even dreadful to be alone with the New Testament.”

–Soren Kierkegaard

More than I would like to lately, I have been thinking about the type of Christian I am. Am I the lax one? The comfortable one? The "don't pull me out of my bubble" one? The "I'll do anything for you, God" one? I feel that there may be even more categories to fall into - and that alone is scary enough to think about. It also makes me wonder how God looks down and sees those who have actually come back to Him and found the redemption and freedom He so lovingly offers, to be doing nothing with their faith. I would imagine it being like someone making a huge investment in some kind of company, with hopes of making some kind of profit or seeing the growth of the company happen, but then nothing happens. The investment that that person made turned around, not be a failure, but abandonment.

That is because it takes two sides in order to see something like that flourish. What does it look like when God hands you everything (Romans 8:11),  and we set it aside like we still have our plans to do and we will get to that stuff later? I even find it incredibly contradictive of myself to act as if I have any say into my life, especially if I have just screamed out in worship, "Where You go, I go. What You say, I say, God. What You pray, I pray." and then turned around and so flippantly continue down the same exact road. Who do I think I am?

If we are saying we want God to take it all, what exactly is our "all?" Is it a few things here and there? Because sometimes I find myself struggling with this, and what it boils down to is that it is a huge pride issue. I cannot let some things go in my life because I think I can do it better. Meanwhile, God begins to build his garden of thornbushes to wall me in (Hosea 2:6) because He knows, oh, He knows, my path is only destructive to myself, and that His plans are beyond my imagination.

I cannot and will not allow myself to become some categorical Christian. I need to challenge myself more in my Christianity. I need to challenge myself in my relationship with God, to break from the mediocrity that the world hands out like flyers. I need to challenge myself in my relationships with my friends. I should make sure that I am a great friend in the sense that I am encouraging and rooting my friends on in their relationship with God. I should even be a great friend to those who don't know Jesus - but not fall into old habits.

It is such a process, but it is so worth it. When Jesus was telling his disciples, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me." It is a process that is to be done daily, not weekly, not monthly or yearly. God wants every single bit of us, every single day. That is your investment back to God. That is where the flourishing happens. It just takes us to cut off the head of pride - because it is eating us all alive.

C.S. Lewis put pride this way: "If anyone would like to acquire humility, I can, I think, tell him the first step. The first step is to realize that one is proud. And a biggish step, too. At least, nothing whatever can be done before it. If you think are not conceited, it means you are very conceited indeed."

Thought Dissipation

I feel as if my mind is pacing to and fro, searching for something to write about. My thoughts come to me in the car or in the middle of my sleep. I take note of them at the time, before they evaporate amongst the rest of my thoughts. One idea was to write on the concept of friendship/relationship and its importance. Then another was to write based off of the question, "What happens when we are called to live?"

But where did they go? My writing has not been on its tip-toes as it usually is. I am reading great books, which typically inspires and then churns the machinery in my mind. C.S. Lewis' "Mere Christianity" is my most recent read and it is incredibly insightful. His thinking is beyond me; one, as a Christian, can just see how God gave Lewis magnificent outlooks, which he then put on paper.

Since my thoughts are too jumbled or too few, I will say that I do have someone new in my life. He's a wonderful man; really, just lovely. Also, two of my amazing friends just tied the knot in a wonderful wedding. Honestly, I am just at a very happy point in my life. My relationship with God is becoming more and more focused on a day-to-day basis (I am learning this is a hard thing to do).

I did hear once that "Once your relationship with God finds a balance, everything else in your life will find a balance." and, honestly, I believe this is a point. A fine point, indeed. In the meantime, my thoughts have dissipated, I suppose I will submit to defeat right now. But until then...  may your thoughts churn and your Holiday's be wonderful.

Comfort in Stars and Sunsets

How do you explain to your parents that you do not have to climb the corporate ladder in order to obtain God's love?

You don't. Not even in a million words. Instead I choose to become numb and shut down to their ceaseless arguments of how "I need to make myself into someone" or "I need to rely on myself in life". Though, sometimes my shut down has a few spats of retorts, because I cannot make them really believe that I buy into their idea of this corporate ladder.

At the time of my thoughts churning on all of this, I was sitting in a parking lot of Target, while on the hood of my car with a pen and paper. I would stop writing every once and a while in order to just glance at the stars. I kept repeating the idea that I really serve a God who cares about me, even when my home life isn't as ideal as the Brady Bunch. I found it comforting that all I had to do was walk outside and look up and remember there is Someone out there that does not require me to have this formulaic life as the rest of the world. Instead, He has hand picked me to do just the things He wants me to do. Just as He paints the skies everyday at sunset and just as we think He's done, He gives us stars in the night for entertainment.

Because sometimes we need it. We need to know that we are not alone in our thoughts and our beliefs. The sunsets and the stars that God gives us seem to bring us in and say "You're never alone". I needed it so badly last night as I sat underneath them and begged God to know what I was doing wrong and what I was missing. My parents are Christian's, amazing Christian's at that, but sometimes we just do not see eye-to-eye when it comes to, for the lack of better words, "letting go and letting God".

I'm told to provide for myself, to create my own paths and to think for myself. And no matter how many times I've told them what God has done in my life because I was not doing these things, it goes overlooked. I know it's going to take a heart change and for eyes to be opened, but I cannot do that. That is why I say "not even a million words". I am not the one to do the convincing and thank goodness - that would be draining and would cause a lot of strife.

What it has come to is that ultimately, God has my best interest at heart - because it is His. My parents do, too, of course, but something is still lacking. Through this, I have to be patient, understanding , loving and keep no record of wrongs (or the arguments).

I have seen what God can do in my life and this is another situation where I have to take my hands off and let Him guide again.

Campaigns rotting brains

I just lived in my head for an entire week. I am not even kidding. Somehow, I managed to grind my vocal cords to a screeching halt and they were fed up with me. This is also known as Laryngitis. My vocal cords packed their bags and left town for a week, leaving me to a week of silence with interruptions of intense brochial-like coughs. Well, in my many days of silence, I was also out of work. I quickly began to smell the onset of cabin fever, so I would take a drive around. Unable to sing songs, I began taking notice of my surroundings as I drove. Do you know what I took notice of?

Campaign signs. They were everywhere. It was as if the sky opened up one day, dropped out every campaign sign for every person running for this office or that office. I then began the thought process (because I could not talk to myself outloud) on how stupid all of the campaign signs/politics are and asked myself: why do those who run for some kind of office spend their energies and monies on advertisements such as campaign signs? All different shapes and sizes, but still they say the same thing. None of them have neon lights, so the darkness that falls on them does not even give them a helping hand. The signs do nothing but serve as a nesting place for bugs. I bet it's a local hang out for them.

I think what gets me most, is that the amount of money put towards the signs could actually be used to help the community - ligitimate help. Help that does not have to be taken back and tossed into a shredder for recycling after election season. This is where politicians of every sort become incredibly dubious to me. I do not see them as selfless, loving, trustworthy citizens that they make themselves out to be. I see the exact opposite. The T.V. advertisements, the billboards, the signs in every size, the shirts, the buttons, the glitter and glam - it means nothing if there is nothing to show for it.

Politicians should show their character through actions in actually helping out the public they are wanting to serve. Instead of filming the latest backfire against their rival, maybe they can join a charity that they truly care about and covertly volunteer. I would rather find out about their scandelous affair of secretly helping out the homeless rather than their money laundering and infidelities.

But that is just me. Me, the same person who used to fire arrows of hate towards the opposing point-of-view when it came to politics. Now, I cannot stand the political garbage. Sure it is nice to be up-to-date, but I should remain at a safe distance when it comes to politics these days. My arrows have since been changed to loving and have been dispersed towards things that actually matter in my life.

I suppose those are my inner thoughts towards politicians and to those who camp alongside of the campaigns like it is Woodstock 2010. Instead of drugs rotting brains, it's more likely that campaigns are rotting brains this time around.

But now that my voice is back in town, the cough remains, I am going to invest its time into work - "Thank you for calling Rooth Law Firm."

Crap and all its stuff.

I am looking around my room, and I recognize one significant aspect about myself: I have a lot of stuff. Things. Crap. It is piled, but neatly so. Tucked into baskets and placed on painted objects hanging on the wall.

Sure, I put this stuff to use. The perfume bottles and lotions serve as a reminder of a, um, fetish that I seem to have. I must like, or love, to smell nice. Some days like a coconut, others like an "Amethyst". What is an "Amethyst" anyway? Bath & Body Works and its clever branding does not serve it well in the naming department, but it, at the very least, can make a sweet aroma.

I guess there is a humor found in the action of my money spent on an item called "Twilight Woods" - I wonder where that naming came from - but I smell nothing like the greenery of nature nor a thing like twilight... if that has a scent.

Whatever.

I have a lot of crap. Shoes and clothes shoved into, not one, but two closets. Color coordinated, hung in specification - dresses, skirts sweaters (closet one) - and - shirts, jeans, dress pants shoes (closet two). See what I mean?

Craze and dazed I seem in this writing, but what it comes down to, the boiling point, the bulls-eye, is that my parents are selling the only house I have ever loved. Truly loved. Sure, building a relationship with this house was not my intention, but I guess you cannot resist its beauty (1.5 acres we are talking). I am almost positive you can love inanimate objects.

And that is where the utter, tragic, awareness comes from. The comprehension of all my stuff. Do I really need to smell like this or this or this? No. Just a want. If I had the guts, I would give it all away to a homeless person whose never smelled the scent of Valentino perfume.

I bet they would hate it. I bet they would look at me like an idiot with a hint of disgust. Did they need my pity via perfume bottle? Food would have sufficed. Some other necessity. Are those things my necessity? I can hear her now. Crap.

I do not know how I would answer, to be honest. I would walk away asking God to help me in my relationship with my finances and to teach my simplicity. Trace my steps of spending my money and where it floods into. No longer should I be blind to this. Because it all falls down the same shoot. It is all crap, stuff, great smelling stuff, but stuff and things in the end. So teach me. Teach  me the simplicity of living this life. To not be in want or in need. Sure, I've attempted  and it is still not enough.

There are people starving in this world. People who live their days in a cardboard box that they found behind a grocery store that just stocked their shelves full of food... and that is what was left for them. 


I am selfish. I am pathetic. And if this is what it takes for God to show me something, anything - thank You. Finally. I want to begin this work; to stop hitting the brakes in complacency. Now that I have broken down, I have to get started again. I need to be fixed in learning simplicity even deeper now. I want to begin reliving the vision that You've given me. Love others as I love myself - learning true equality that You have taught. Love You, love others. 


Where I physically end up in this move, I do not know. Maybe alone in Florida as my family moves to Chicago. But through that, I want to see You in my life, weaving into my finances, emotions, everything. I really do. 


I will delve into the love of my house and my soon departure from it in another post. I want to end with this:

‎"For where your treasure is, 

your heart will be there also." 

Matthew 6:21

Pumpkin Spice Latte's & Maturation.

As the warmth of my pumpkin latte clothed my throat like a sweater, I realized that I needed to bump up my A/C (I live in Florida and I am drinking a hot latte) and I had a slight taste of reminiscence. Now, I do not know if you are the type of person that has their nostalgic button kicked into high gear when you smell certain scents or when you taste certain things, but that is how my mind works. Well, the pumpkin latte sparked an intense memory that brought me back to just the year before. A year of tribulation and maturation. A year of doors closing and others opening.

I responded to the memory with a sick taste in my mouth - not attributed by the latte, I guarantee that - but quickly I withdrew those tastes with a quick swallow. Then a lump grew in my throat. I almost began to cry in re-adjusting my focus on, not my failures and faults, but on how far I have come. Not in the length of time "far", but in the sense of maturity in myself, my actions, my thoughts and my all around being.

I saw myself just a year ago as that someone who repeatedly ignored the request from God to let Him be my entire focus. It took a lot of regrets and pains in order for this shift came into place. My heart came to Him covered in scars and my mind quite weary. Now that the scars are fading and my mind has at last made its way to victory and freedom, it has begun to weave a web of a beautiful story.

It's funny that I do not have these recollections without the help of a pumpkin latte or a specific scent. I suppose that is what keeps my story from being null and void. It helps the little runner of my mind jog these memories without growing tired. I now begin to wonder what I will think back on with next years sip of a pumpkin latte. Overall, what I am saying is that... pumpkin spice latte's help mature your character. Well, spiced with God, too.

Recollectin': Cruising Through Old Memories

I have been thinking about childhood memories recently. I have thought about their importance and their feel of purity and utter realness to life. As a child, you run around feeling invincible and completely unaware of all the bad in the world. As a child, you can have fun with a patch of grass or a riding a slide a million times without the thought of it getting boring. Everything is fresh and new and unexplored in the mind of a child. So, I just decided to dive head first into nostalgia and reminisce on the memories that my mind still holds onto.

- I started with my days in Kindergarten and I specifically remember my first day. Walking into the fluorescent lit room and Mrs. Pennington introducing herself. The intimidation of peers stares and the realization that my mom dressed me, head to toe, in this matching jean outfit. I think this is where I learned what embarrassment was.
- I remember playing Red Rover, Red Rover when I was a Brownie in Girl Scouts.
- I remember my babysitter in fourth grade. Her name was Mrs. Lisa and she had freckles like stars and eyes as blue as the Mediterranean Sea. Her candy giving was rare, but I think I thought that was okay. She was sweet as it was. She used to frenchbraid my hair before school and marinate my hair in water instead of hairspray. We used to play dress up and I would hang out with her sons, as her daughter was still a baby. This is probably where I became a tomboy.
- I remember in fifth grade when a girl named Marci was my best friend, and we had carefree days at the park. We would swing on the tire swing and climb across the monkey bars. I think a cute boy was involved. That is a foggy memory.
- I remember attempting to build a treehouse with my step-sisters. We did a fine job and spent most of our days up in the tree that held the piece of plywood with such gentleness. Kristen and Karmin were my step-sisters and my best friends... but that's all changed. I haven't spoken to them in years since our parents divorced.
- I recall when Graham Costa and Mark Derkas proclaimed they would have a soccer match to figure out who would be my boyfriend. This was elementary school and I later was given a talkin' to by Graham's mom over the drama. I still keep in touch with Mark.
- I like the memory of my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Skeeter. I hold a soft spot in my heart for her. She was an amazing teacher who even got me into reading Anne Frank. Mainly because she said I looked like her. Mrs. Skeeter used to offer candy and Moonpies like it we forever stood in the cashier's line. I am officially friends with her on Facebook and we just talked this year. She's still as wonderful as I remembered.
- I remember meeting my biological father for the first time since practically birth and it being the most awkward encounter ever. I was about 8 and he wanted me to call him "dad", but I had already been calling someone else "dad" for the past 8 years. It didn't go over so well with my conscience. He did buy me Selena stuff, though.

My memories do stretch further, but those are the most memorable thus far. Do you have any interesting ones that you can recollect?

Actions. Beliefs. Relationship.

Quite recently, I have been having these heavy thoughts of what it really means to be a Christian; a Jesus follower; one who will deny himself and takes up his cross to follow Him (Luke 9:23). I have not been questioning my thought of walking with Him, so do not get me wrong. I am merely asking what does it mean to be a real Christian - one who doesn't falter in their thinking when it comes to deciphering the right and the wrong, and one who really wants to have the genuine relationship that God longs for.

Just last week I had started "Searching for God Knows What" by Donald Miller and he makes incredible remarks, some of which I have already known and serve as reminders, but some come as an arrow. For example, in one chapter Miller says this:

"This God, and this spirituality, was very different from the self-help version of Christianity. The God of the Bible seemed to be brokenhearted over the separation in our relationship and downright obsessed with mending the tear."

This came as a reminder/arrow to the heart. I completely understand the relational aspect that God longs for, but the words that Miller chose - "downright obsessed" - in order to describe the longing, made my eyes open up. While I won't go into too much of the book - except to highly recommend it - I, thereafter, kept thinking about God's obsession over our relationship with Him. In the Old Testament it is found in Jeremiah where God's wrath is like a wavering tidal wave over Judah, and poor Jeremiah is sent in to tell people about this wave and the power of its crash if they don't clean up their act. So then I got to thinkin'...

Our actions are our beliefs.

Now, don't quote me on that, only because that actually comes from Miller's other book "Blue Like Jazz", but the truth of the matter is... our actions are our beliefs. As Christian's, we cannot and should not become stale to what the Bible, and ultimately, to what God says. If He truly is, and He is, obsessed with mending this broken relationship that happened at The Fall, then why do we insist on going on our way with a mere Jesus tagged onto our clothes. Why should we let our Christianity become a sweater that can be worn one day to fit in here or there and the next day, we can remove it because we are around a different group of people. That does not describe the character of Jesus. It does not give truth to who God is.

Honestly, the biggest thing that gets me is that, because we as Christian's can be labeled to be "Holier than thou", those who do not know God, nor want to know God, become immediate watchers. Christian's are on the field, while we have a crowd of spectators seeing the next time we mess up in order to chalk up another excuse on why not to believe in God. I think the worst of the matter is is that we Christian's do mess up, and will mess up because we are nothing more than humans. So the onlookers see that and will not realize that our failures, most of the time, shape us. I guess that's where the humility comes into play. Not pride. We admit that we do not have it all together, it's a daily process, and it's trial and error sometimes, but at least we know God is hand-in-hand with us.

So while that is the worst of the matter, I speak more to those of who become the fence riders. The ones who get it, but don't care enough to get it more. The ones who don't see the obsession that God has with that relationship and in return, become stale to it. The ones that give off a bad reputation of God. That is what gets me. I wish we as Christian's would all wake up to the fact that we are representatives of the Lord. It should serve as a reminder each and every day. I know some days I am clicked back onto it - I mean, really, I work at a law firm... I should just have it tattooed on my arm for a reminder.

I am not sure if this all made sense. I think I just wanted those of you who do read this and see my blurbs about God, to know that I'm sorry if you have ever received a bad taste in your mouth towards church and towards Christianity. I think you should know that God is bigger than us and we try, we really do. There are Christian's out there who will love you through and through as we are told. You are not judged and should never be; we all would have to take the plank out of our own eyes before that could ever happen. There is a longing for a relationship between you and God and it's real. It is the realist thing that you could ever encounter. Sometimes it takes years to realize it.

It took me 18 years to finally get it, but 19 years for me to stop being a fence rider and to wake up to this relationship, and to finally take up my cross and follow Him. Daily, my actions are becoming my beliefs.

Ball-kick

Have I ever expressed how much of a blessing it is to be involved as a leader in a high school ministry? Not only a blessing in a way that God turned my story around to glorify Him and to help other struggling teens, but... because we can play Leaders vs. Youth Redneck Ball-kick (or Kickball for the one who isn't redneck).

I give you, Reformation Redneck Ball-Kick 2010:

Leaders

Youth

Leaders won :)

Film Dabbles

I have been dabbling in film photography lately, and finding out that it can be extremely tough. Although, slightly exciting and mysterious at the same time.

I yam.

If you've ever visited the dentist, you can probably attest to the fact that it is incredibly difficult to have a full-out conversation with the person working on your mouth. I, however, have to say that I have just experienced a dentist appointment in which a full-out conversation did in fact happen, and not only did we converse in a manner in which the drool sucker (I attempted in Google search of what a drool sucker is called, but no such luck) was taken out for immediate answers from my mouth that was being cleaned, it was meaningful. I mean, I think I helped my dentist out with family problems. Who knows why he chose me to spill his family life on; I just hope I helped him.

Most of the conversation had begun its march after I talked about my dad and his absence in my little life - I told you it was deep - and then he kept saying I liked the subject of Psychology. This, I do not know where he got, but his assumptions were because I "analyze", which, to some extent, is true. I do know that I did leave the appointment with that feeling of Information Overload and decided to file it in my "That was strange..." file. But as I am drawing it back out, I have been analyzing why I am the way I am. I'd like to label this file "I yam."

Just this morning I texted my mom asking her what elementary schools I had attended. Unfortunately, with the moving every two years of my life, I attended approximately three or four elementary schools. I can only name a few - Oak Forest Elementary (TN), Fernandez Elementary (TX), Sanford Elementary (VA) - and I still believe I am missing one. I specifically remember a school where we had a greenhouse where we would do little hands-on projects. That was the first time I learned that these specific butterflies were only alive for about 11 days. This was after raising my little caterpillar, watching he/she turn into a beautiful butterfly, and setting it free in our greenhouse. You can imagine my surprise and my sadness as a third grader. I think I wanted to rescue it and have it beat the odds. I also remember attending a school where they beat kids with a paddle; I swear I can still hear a little boy scream as I walked past the office.

All of these little memories that my mind so vaguely stored has made me nostalgic. Not in a "wish I could do it all over again" way, but more in a sit-down-take-out-the-photo-album-and-spread-every-picture-on-the-floor type of way. It almost seems surreal to think about how I so vaguely remember my first day of Kindergarten or how I remember reading Anne Frank in 5th grade because her story inspired me... plus someone said I looked like her, so I had to find out who this girl was. It's these little moment of innocence that seem so precious to hold onto, because as we get older their distance becomes greater between each memory.


These memories, that were once reality but now enigmatic, have become my chemical makeup. I have taken something from each happening and my memories serve a purpose as to who I have become... or who I yam. It isn't an indepth analyzation of who I "yam" or who I am becoming, it is more of a skim of my little life and all the innocence that had surrounded it. My memories attest to just that.


I did leave with one comment that lightened the mood. Doused in a heavy accent, my dentist said: "You may look 15, but you act and talk like a 25 year old."

"...only diamonds remain."

I get in this specific mood when I am listening to John Mayer. In one of my favorite novels, The Special Topics in Calamity Physics (hint: it's not about the subject of physics), the main character, Blue, describes these certain moods as "Bourbon Moods" in reference to her father. Although my veins are not pumping bourbon - it's usually water - I do, however, feel that I am pumping with some kind of liquid. One that leaks nothing but words full of prose - sometimes poetry - and can only be shut off when I am brought back to the reality of what John Mayer is singing through my speakers. I am typically hooked to the beat; typing in furiosity with it, attempting not to lack in rhythm. It is only when that specific mood peaks and tips, I can get out what I feel or am aiming to feel.

My aim on this specific night, in this specific mood with John Mayer playing, is one that creaks like a footstep in an old house. That type of house that creaks only at the top of the stairs, and somehow every other step, so when you're trying to make your escape, you are given away before you hit the front door. Most of the time, someone in the household will flip on the lightswitch, ask what the heck you are doing and tell you to go back to your room. Then you will either:

A. Methodically think of another way to escape.
B. Try again in two weeks when it is no longer fresh in your mother or fathers mind.
C. Probably not attempt that again.

Granted, maybe you're an option "D." and you may conjure something beyond belief to escape. I do not know. I think I was more of an option "A." person back in high school. You know, that time before Jesus. That time where a moral compass was non-existent and logic was always emptied somewhere between my tripping in high heels that I was crazy for wearing or when I was covered in makeup too heavy for my face. It is this "beautiful" time in high school that I learned that I never was defined by anything. I instead put my definition into such things as alcohol and boys who would never remember my name unless they were bored and/or heartbroken by some other girl (I believe that is what one calls a "Rebound Girl").

To put it plainly, I was a messed up, trainwreck, lame excuse for a 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 year old.

I did not care about my image... or maybe I did. I think I cared in a way that Hollywood or Sunset Boulevard or "Who's who" cares. I honestly believed that my self worth was set into my group of friends who did the "cool" thing by getting a phone call of a local party or being able to get into a club VIP - when I wasn't even of age. These "friends", however much they listened to my venting, provided a good laugh, had great style, were not "friends". And I mean, honestly, who did I think I was? Given my body type even at the age of 21, I was even smaller then. I know I looked like a seven-year-old walking in high heels with poorly applied makeup speared upon my face. I was the Dollar Tree princess, trying desperately to be the one, with enough conformity, would become one of those who fit right into the Sunset Boulevard of the high school hallways.

I never did and crap... it was hard. It was hard to make these futile attempts and to never see the path I was following; the hole I was digging for myself. I was becoming the dead that would bury the dead. I was the epitome of everything I never wanted to be... it went so unrecognized. The incredible part in it all was that God was getting my attention through a lot of it. Of course, I did not see this through the blurred vision or through the blaring music of a party or through a stupid boy's pretty, petty, meaningless little words. I'll give you examples:

Getting caught sneaking out, wrecking my car, nearly losing a toe (not kidding), lies the smell of sulfur floating to the surface (my poor mother).

That is only to name of a few. I guess those are the more intense ones, and honestly, I do not know why I never picked up on them then. He was constantly trying to stop my footsteps (literally... that whole toe thing was terrible), and I never once considered that fact when I'd be sitting there every Sunday morning in church. Not once in the two years I had been there. It wasn't until graduation rolled around and my "friends" failed at making phone calls in my direction and my weekends were spent holed up in my room. I was alone. Utterly alone.

The Sunday morning it all finally hit can be described as that feeling you get during a Math problem or putting together some furniture with one too many bolts and screws - you ignored the instructions the entire time. I literally was like, "Oh, yeah... this is it." I finally received Jesus into my heart, but not only that, I literally wanted him to transform me. I wanted this to be real, and He did, too. Sure, I still messed up along the way. Being part of the world for those past 18 years was extremely hard to break away from. I had to cut ties that suddenly wanted back into my life and God really had to continue to work on me. I just had to be willing, and majority of the time I was. I started to feel real conviction. I started to understand what a moral compass is and God being the one direction, it was fantastic. It was a relief. I was so tired of doing it my own way. I was worn out from digging and never finding anything.

I think the worst part and the longest thing that had to work itself through was learning how to forgive myself. First, I had to have God work on that, then I had to cut out the people that kept wanting to remind me of the wretch I was. It took a long time... a very long time to forgive myself. But now, now it feels so amazing to not do this on my own.I know now the mistakes in my story have now turned around to glorify my God. He truly works everything out for my good.

As for the creaks in my house and constantly trying to escape, my repetitive and failed attempts in escaping were supposed to happen. God will be your creak when you're trying to get away, and He will always be the one to turn on the light and to tell you to go back. Don't resist. It is a beautiful thing. Even if you don't recognize it now.

One of the best ways to describe it is as John Mayer sings: "But this morning, there's a calm I can't explain. The rock candy's melted, only diamonds now remain."

Your orchestra.

And it gets to a point
when you're trying so hard
to latch onto
every positive note left.
Because.
Because every negative note
wants to be in your orchestra.

When the symphony gets louder
the notes become enraged,
and all you want to do
is play a love song;
a child to sleep;
a slow dance.
And the negatives, they
push and they pull.
They want their way.

But you,
you keep playing;
holding close to these positive notes.
Knowing they will rise higher;
they will play louder;
they will be heard.

Ride these notes to their highest.
To the peak
in which none can reach.
Your negatives will slow
and the defeat will stop.

This orchestra is yours.

Go.

I am in my workout room, attempting to figure out a moment to think. Just think. That's all I want to do at this point. I attempt a yoga move and I don't even do yoga. In fact, I just typed "Yoda" instead of "yoga". I figure, maybe, it will pour some thoughts out of my ear and I will be left with fewer thoughts than I started with. That was an obvious fantasy that concluded in me possibly pulling an awkward muscle. I give up. In the midst of my giving up, I keep hearing Corey's voice.

"You need to go." he says, enunciating the go. And that is that.

It was said with such intensity across the table at Steak 'n' Shake. I took a sip of my water, allowed the words to sink in and then he went into further explanation. Corey kept saying that I need to figure out that God isn't found in a podcast or a book... that God is doing things in people, and particularly those found outside the walls and seas that America is surrounded by. Just moments and conversations before, I had been talking about this exact same thing with the kids in my car; how I was ready to go on a missions trip, but I just did not know where yet. Then to hear Corey confirming that? I think God is ready to tell me something. Even in recent weeks I have been debating on where God wants me to go, what He wants me to do, how He wants me to act. Then with every question, came some kind of distraction... something that kept trying to through me off of my axis.

But that is how it happens. I find myself asking where God wants me to go, and here comes the enemy himself, attempting to unravel the things God is trying to put together. Or let's be honest here: "Yet You know me, O Lord; You see me and test my thoughts about You." Jeremiah 12:3. Either way, I am getting back onto my axis.

I feel on the verge of something. Something that I cannot put my finger on. I just know that it is going to be utterly life changing. All it took was Corey, my leader and my friend, to speak it out loud to me; telling me to go. Just go. Is this making any sense? I feel everywhere.

It has been such a season of transoformation for so many of us, and I don't know if it is going to come to an end anytime soon. I think our 'Christian clocks' are tired of ticking; God is ready to set off our alarms. I can say, though, that I am so happy I will not be the only one waking up to the things God is preparing. I am surrounded by an amazing community that has been put into place by God, and that alone gives me such a peace. With this peace now, I will continue to keep persevering. It really is time for me to get up and go.

June 15, 2010

It has been since the 15th day of June since you decided you would leave. I haven't been able to fill the void in my heart that only a brother can fill. My efforts in trying to reattach the blood line that we were both born into seem futile; you cut it on a consistent and daily basis. I'm fully aware that you want your line with your Creator cut, too... and I think that is what hurts most. You grew up forming that relationship yourself. Molding and growing into the man that God has wanted you to become; fighting the battles that raged inside, all with God standing by your side. Who would have thought you would turn on the truth that if everyone is against you, God is for you? I don't understand and I can't understand.

What I do know is that you are forever my brother and forever I will love you. I may not agree with your decisions, but I hope your consequences do not drag you into the crevices that possibly await at the end of this crooked path. I feel like you know this already, but I also feel like you were sinking for a long time... and it went so unrecognized. Because you were so closed in and threw away the key for anyone to get in, how could we have known? I wish I had gone searching for the key. I wish that my senses were intact and my eyes had been more open. I apologize now, and I hope that it isn't too late.

More than anything, I pray that God is going to use these rebellious decisions in your story with Him. There is this wonderful artist who is ready to create a masterpiece, but he needs you to come back to Him first. He's a jealous God, and He will be persistent in getting you back. He will chase you down to the end of the rope. You were His first.

Please don't give up the good fight, little brother.  Please come home, but most of all... please listen when God is trying to break through the darkness. I love you so much.

Why we "Like".

Why we like the "Like" buttons that list incredibly annoying things on Facebook should be an obvious one. But it may or may not be something that is buried in our subconscious. It is only awakened when we have someone to shake it from the depths of its sleep. I am here to shake it. It will be a small shake, because, like I said, it is an obvious one.

My opinion on the matter is we like the "Like" buttons that list incredibly annoying things (e.g. "I peed my pants in third grade and my life has never been the same") because there is something relational about this. When we see these certain quotes, certain topics or things that really have no meaning, we feel a tug from our inner gizzards. Now, I'm not quite sure of the location of these gizzards, but I am pretty sure it ignites our subconscious. Take for instance one of the two things I actually like - "I talk/sing to my plants" - slightly embarrassing, but true. Why do I choose to share this with Facebook? Because I can and because it gives me pleasure to know that I am not the only one out there that is a lunatic.

That is it! We are reassured we are not the only ones that feel "this way". Whether it is through those cheesy/inappropriate quotes (probably something from Twilight or Superbad) or things that we thought we do all on our own ("Walking around in your underwear") it is quite comforting to not be alone in those awkward habits, and for them to be revealed via Facebook - even better! We are set free from our totally strange ways and we don't even care. Facebook has become the open door to every good or bad habit we have, whether or not we are annoying the crap out of our friends.

Did I ever mention that I used to have stinky feet? And when I say used to, I mean that my little, stinky problem disappeared. Kaput. Done. Over with. I hope you can relate. If so, we should totally make a group on Facebook.

Or... not.

My New Leaf

My writing has been hibernating for some while, so much so that I was "forced" to go back to older writings and reminisce with such. The nostalgia was fantastic, but finally, I have some news. I would not tally this under the "Great news!" section, but rather the "Lesson learned" section; knowledge for the future, if you will.

It happened last week and it started with a guy. Ew. Gross, see I do not even like starting it out that way. I feel incredibly lame and incredibly desperate and my cool points have been deducted. Wait, I had cool points stored... right? Well, if I haven't lost you yet, it did start with a guy, his nice jawline and nice eyes. I feel like that is how it always starts, am I wrong? However, I cannot even say that this was an actually starting point with this guy, since we have known one another since we were 16 and attempted that whole "dating" thing before (should have gotten the hint the first time around). We decided to meet up for sushi, talk over the years that have passed and what has been going on, and two hours later we were saying goodbye.

Now, let me say this: This guy is not even in love with Jesus, so my first mistake was even saying yes to dinner. Secondly, I did not tell me friends about this, because I knew it would be uncomfortable. Why did I not even listen to that red flag?

A. Yes, stupid mistake.
B. My emotions were in full charge at the moment - not my mind.

Anyway, I invited him to church (thinking I could introduce him to Jesus [Jesus, Guy. Guy, Jesus]), but I also knew that that whole situation was like playing with matches. Been there, done that, did not work out. Why was I attempting to do this again? Refer to option A and B, please. I went home and attempted not to think about it whatsoever, but instead prayed for him and his heart. Which is totally O.K. to do... if my intentions were lined up correctly.

The night lined up as usual, changed into my P.J.'s, said my prayers, and fell asleep. Too bad that whole "falling asleep" action never kicked into full gear. Instead, I felt like I was stuck in stage 2 of my REM cycle, and even worse I felt like there was a battle raging inside of me. I had good versus evil rolling around in my mind like Sumo wrestlers. I kept thinking about why this is happening, but my Spirit knew exactly why.

I was not supposed to be involved with this guy at all.

Even if it were a measly dinner between two people, I knew that this was nothing but my foot stepping into quicksand. I ignored it though. I continued to talk to him and encouraged him to come to church and at least try it out. Finally, one night - after he literally cried to me about so much of his life,and I calmly explained that things don't have to be this way, but I was not going to hold his hand the whole way - he promised to come to church. I am not talking about just a promise, but a pinky-promise was involved. Fantastic... or so I thought. I thought since he opened up to me so much and made himself vulnerable, this was his chance to meet Jesus. Incorrect. He decided last minute not to come to church and I felt something strange happen inside of me. My heart made a squeeze. I know that was the moment that I realized that I actually had a drop of feeling for this guy. I quickly realized I was two feet into this quicksand and I had to ask God to help me out before this got to a sinking point. God had rescued me and all it took was for me to finally listen. I am so thankful it only took a couple of days for all of this to pan out, and not months.

I had an epiphany at church, too, when I was confessing everything to my best friend, Holly. I realized that my restless nights were due to God trying to wake me up before I fell asleep into this shake of my foundation. It was so beautiful to realize that God actually cares about me. So, so, so beautiful. I am now even more comfortable allowing God to just guide me along the way when it comes to relationships. I am done talking with the pretty guy with no Jesus love in his heart. He will find God on his own time, but again, I cannot be the one holding his hand through it. I will encourage him, but via text only.

It all kind of reminded me of Fitzgerald's "A New Leaf". I completely was the female lead role, unfortunately for her, she was too late in realizing her mistake.

Also, you should take a peek at my small groups website where we review what we discussed. Get involved!: http://satellitesphere.wordpress.com/

"Father of mine, tell me, where have you been?"

In my quest of searching and churning thoughts to write a new blog, I decided to take a gander into my old Facebook "Notes". To my unsurprising discovery, I found old politically-driven thoughts that seemed to spew flames, and an even older note that reflected on my past with a dad and his up and leaving, and the "dent" left behind. I posted this back in February 2009, with these words in parentheses ("I'm sure this will come down.")

Here is what I wrote.

For two years I was depressed. I was depressed because my dad had left my mom, me, and my little brothers. My dad had abandoned what we thought had been his life. But, in all reality, you can't really abandon life physically; therefore, claiming that we were his life and adding abandonment in to the equation doesn't add up. It doesn't divide evenly and it doesn't multiply without an "Error" sign on the calculator to life. At the age of thirteen, I had to accept that the only man I ever knew, the man I looked up to, no longer wanted to be there. But I had learned this already.


I was two when my biological father left my mother and me in what seemed like a alcoholic induced scurry. The details are blurry, but I don't question it. I like the fog to that history. Then entered Mark to the doorway of my little life and my mom's messy plan called life. They met through a friend and fell in love. Mark accepted me and even adopted me to his last name 'Jones'. I was, from there on out, Breanna Lane Jones. He became my dad. I'd brag about my dad to all of my friends about how he was the funniest person ever and he just loved me to death. I was literally daddy's little girl.

My mom worked day in and day out to keep the family going. She had my brother and my dad and me to support (the jobs were always odd with my dad). She made sure there was always food in our cabinets and my dad was always there for a good joke and family videos. With my mom's job taking us to different cities and states every two years, I learned not to get too close to anyone. I learned to just stick close to my family and try to remember that my time is limited. By the time we made our rounds to Collerville, Tennessee, we had a new addition to the family and it was all, what seemed, perfect.

We moved a couple of more times before hitting Virginia Beach, Virginia. I remember thinking the house was so ugly. It was big, brown, and looked a little dingy. I remember just wanting to go back to where I'd come from, which was Newport News (only a mere 30 minutes away) and get back to my friends and life there. But, of course, I couldn't... I had to move on.

It wasn't until when middle school started did I meet my best friend. Luckily, she lived right down the street from me and she was over everyday. We decided to start our mornings together and walk to the bus stop. I had finally found a best friend and her name was Angel. Almost everyday after school my dad would take Angel, my little brothers and me to the beach and we'd watch the sunset and play in the ocean. I swear, just looking back, I feel this utter peacefulness about it. I feel as if I took advantage of it all then... like I was too playful and I didn't stop to breathe and say "Life is good". Sometimes, I still want to go back and do just that. But, I can't.

Instead, I'm stuck with this memory. This memory of the summer before eighth grade. My parents marriage was dwindling and we were planning to move again (but only like ten minutes away, thank goodness). I can still hear everything so clearly. There is no ambiguity to this part of my life; this part of my life where I wish it could fog over. I had a highlighter in my hand, I stood in front of my mom and screamed at my dad how he won't hurt her anymore. He yelled at me and he stomped upstairs. He paced in front of the television set in my parents bedroom, and as I sat on the bed with my mom, the words I didn't want to hear leaked - "I can't do this anymore. I'm leaving. I'm done." I sat, silently, as my parents had this mutual understanding that they were tired of fighting this battle. They threw in their white towels and all I had was this highlighter to grip.

I ran into my bedroom where Angel was laying, crying too because she just heard everything. She sat there and held me and tried to tell me it was going to be okay. My mom followed in afterward and we all three just held one another. I wanted to know how we were going to make it. I had so many questions that I couldn't get out from behind the lump of my throat. So I just laid there until it all went black.

I woke up the morning of my first day of cheerleading, to find my dad loading up his red truck with black garbage bags and saying goodbye. I stood there and made sure never to forget this picture. I remember, while trying to learn cheers, I just started crying and felt completely helpless. But, no one was around, so I was cleared before anyone could dub me the emotional one of the group.

I was thirteen when my dad left. I was thirteen when I thought I'd fall apart. I was thirteen when I thought my whole world fell off of its axel. I was thirteen without a dad.

Of course, life continued and my dad would pick up my brothers for visitation and my parents wouldn't say a word. My mom had a new man in her life and my dad had a new woman. Yet, another mutual understanding that I couldn't comprehend. I'd sit in my room sometimes and just cry, wallowing in my thoughts that came a million miles per second. I felt like I had so many unanswered questions to why my life went in such a crazy, mixed up direction. Yes, I had a blessed life... but why couldn't I just have a dad to love me? Who cared for me? Why did he always have to leave? I think, I blamed myself. I tried to remember things I'd done and I would wish to take back. Maybe if I had done this, he would have stayed or if I hadn't done this, he'd still be here.

I'm still left with my dents. I still struggle with trusting guys. This never-ending fear that I will be left if I don't perform correctly in a relationship and my thoughts can sometimes get the best of me. But then, I have to realize that it's out of my hands to determine that. I come to this even greater understanding that no matter what man is in my life... I do have a Father. I do have this Father who provides, who will never hurt me and He will protect me. I have this Father that sits above everyone and everything, and tells my thoughts to quiet; reminding me of how much He loves me. He tells me I am his daughter and He will never leave.

It's just taken over five years to realize this, but I feel at peace. I feel the peace that I felt on those sunset lit, beach days and I'm no longer scared.

* *
Any thoughts?

My balance needs a balance

"When your relationship with God finds a balance, relationships around you find a balance."

I read this as I was attending church one night, when everyone was split up and told to go to specific subjects that we thought God was trying help us with. I ended up at "Chastity"... for a really long time. As I was honing in on this word "Chastity", trying to clarify and understand that it really had nothing to do with a metal belt of some sort around my waist, I finally had a small epiphany. It was right after I read the above-mentioned quote that a small marching band in my mind went off. Once my subconscious came to be conscious of the fact that chastity is not so much a focal point of one particular subject in your life (e.g. staying a virgin), but it is also about your relationships with God and between others and the balance intertwined.

Balance. It is this specific word that plays a huge role in my life. Whether it is balancing my relationship with God (as in, finding a healthy balance on the pendulum), balancing my social life with my amazing friends, balancing my family life ("You hate us because you're always gone." "No, I do not, mother."), balancing the check book (How did I accidentally spend that much?), balancing the non-existent relationship I have with a male (those dooming and looming thoughts of the necessity of a boyfriend, then balancing back to the fact that it is not a necessity) - I feel as if I am always teetering. See, even my balance needs a balance. Daunting. Honestly, I think I would feel more at ease if God just shot me with a tranquilizer full of balance.

That would be too easy, though. This whole easy button mentality is not even a healthy one, because, frankly, it does not exist when it comes to God. Remember that part in the Bible when Jesus asked us to pick up our cross and follow Him? Matthew 16:24. That is where the easy button mentality was essentially thrown out of the window. Again, we are not on this road alone - see my post below - but, reiterated, it is a road in which we are maturing in our relationship with God. In this maturing, if we are welcoming the balance of our relationship with God into our lives and genuinely, whole-heartedly seeking this balance - what kind of balance will we see in the relationships around us? Just think about that.

God deserves and should be awarded the first choice of balance, because in pursuing Him, He'll give us landing gear to a road of understanding how to balance a social life, family life, and a check book. It would be nice to end this with some clever metaphor of how God is our airplane, and He is the only one who can balance us out on this flight; guiding, directing, and restoring balance in every other relationship (including the relationship with your bank account) around us through-and-through.

Okay, that was corny clever, but it will suffice.

Toilet Paper and God.

There are situations in which one may be placed in that can brew the feeling of uncomfortable. This can range from situations such as walking into a bathroom, performing your business (whichever number that may be) and realizing that there is no toilet paper to meet in front of you, on the side of you or anywhere in your tiny cubicle of a stall. This can also be the situation in regards to God and His hand-in-hand leading (Yes, I went from talking about toilet paper to God). See, the hand-in-hand idea seems so great when it comes to my walk with God. I can describe that as my, if I may, spiritual "high point". I have this eagerness and this pep in my step as God is guiding me.

Then He lets go.

And this is not a let go where He's out in left field and I am in right field and He's laughing as I am walking in circles. Instead this "letting go" is precisely what I need. It is another season in which I am learning to see that, as God was hand-in-hand with me, He was also slightly ahead; imprinting His footprints. As I am suddenly "on my own", I realize that, technically, I am not really on my own. God, and the all-knowing person that He is, set out to mature me in my walk so that when He let me go through some more growing, or letting go, I had these footprints to step into. I had a foundation already laid before me.

The irony of it all is that I do not realize this until I am in this total moment of instant... loss. Last week had been a, and I quote, "Punch in the spirit face.", John David. It had been this total shift of world where I was turned upside down, dropped and felt completely broken. Just the week before I had been on that hand-in-hand walk. Then I was uncomfortable. I did some crying out, when God had given me this reminder: being broken in Him is okay. He is the best puzzle master. He can put together my pieces better than I or anyone else could ever do. He brings the picture back together.

And He has.

In conclusion, toilet paper and God are nothing to be compared. Toilet paper makes its job by being the one thing to unravel, to be finished and to be discarded and flushed. God is in fact the one thing that does not unravel. He is nothing to be finished nor is He to be discarded and flushed. He is the opposite of this. He is the one that has and continues to make the trek before us, constantly and consistently putting His feet before ours to see the lamp He has given us shine out and see the footsteps. As I step into these footsteps, broken and all, I am made comfortable in the tight squeeze I receive. The brokenness begins to peel back with each step and God is waiting ahead, hand out, asking me to grab hold.

A Breaking Light

I cannot understand this. I do not know how to correctly dissect what I have been coming across recently. I know what is about to be said may sound strange, but I guess it is worth a shot. Again, this is only just recently, but every song that catches my attention, and makes the machine in my mind click into analyzation mode, all sing about one thing: light.

Wait. Before I lose you.

Whether the songs are Christian or secular, they all contain a line talking about light breaking forth to cure some kind of darkness. I think the epiphany hit me as I was drying my hair in a towel, and Pandora was playing in the background. All three of these songs popped on in a row:

"Neon" by John Mayer (the live version, which is 19x better).
"Fix You" by Coldplay - "Lights will guide you home/ and ignite your bones/ and I will try to fix you."
"Collide" by Howie Day (which I almost skipped) - "The dawn is breaking/ a light shining through."

So, technically, "Neon" may not really qualify for the one liner, but neon does help in LIGHTing signs. But for the sake of argument, I have had a song on repeat in my car for the past week. It is a song by Phil Wickham called "Mystery". I literally feel myself become engulfed and soaked into the lyrics, that I almost break into tears when these words flood:

"Break down the door, come inside/
Shine down Your bright light/
I need a lamp for my feet, I need a lamp for my feet/
I want to hear the thunder of who You are/
To be captured inside the wonder of who You are/
I want to live I want to breathe/
To search out Your heart and all of Your mysteries."

I cannot begin to put into words what I feel when I am screaming out these words in my car. I keep wondering if something is broken inside of me, and I am just subconsciously ignoring it. Is God speaking through all of these songs to me? When my thoughts become overwhelming and the truth is shut out, is this God reminding me to pay attention? Helping me to keep forward and do not give into whatever crack is trying to become bigger? Maybe it is dealing with the fact that I have been praying for light to break forth in lives around me? Maybe God is answering in this odd way?

I have been praying a lot about light in lives; some awakening. In many different situations, whether it is regarding kids or friends or my family. I have just been praying for God's light to shine into some figurative, dark tunnel that feels utterly trapping. God knows what He's up to. I want to continue to listen, to seek and to pray. He is healing something and someone. I just know it. This felt so, so, so good to get out. I guess that is a first step of healing.

"As the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts."

Isaiah 55:9

Growing a Green Thumb

So here is the deal: I want to become someone who has a "green thumb".

Definition: Someone who is a good gardener, or good at caring for plants is said to have a green thumb.

I know. I know. I am not one for jumping the bandwagon for the going green movement nor am I the one who would rather ride a bicycle to work, rain or shine, every day. Although, these things do sound enticing - my calves would be nicely shaped - it is not logical in my mind. Rather, I have chosen to stick to something that is deemed more realistic and applicable in my life. Thus my green thumb is born. Plus, it would be fantastic to have a new hobby in my life.

I will keep anyone who is remotely interested up-to-date on how I am either keeping these baby leaves thriving and/or killing them. Tickle, the initial mini-plant that churned this idea, recently decided to be in plant heaven (sorry, bubbie... I knew I should not have left you alone for those three days), so I am slightly intimidated. So, starting tomorrow I will be setting a budget and heading to Lowe's for their plant life selection and to Target for their one dollar gardening tools.

Life through iPhone pictures

Below is a mix of life between the Two dollar Taco Tuesday's, Easter egg making/ people hunt, Reformation nights, trips to Orlando, early morning prayer and a visit to Petsmart. I thoroughly enjoy my friends.

Distinguishing at the Stop Sign

Lately I have been trying to find the line between submission, in a genuine, Christ-like manner and becoming a doormat. I feel that by distinguishing this line, I will have a better understanding as to how to approach certain situations. While these situations will remain anonymous and I cannot go into full detail of how I came upon this stop sign in life, I can say that it has been a long stop.

I have been sitting at this stop sign and putting one foot forth, then taking it back, thinking about it, and doing the process over again. Now I feel that I have run low on fuel and here I am trying to find this line. Again, last night I found myself driving and having this conversation in my head; I was debating with myself how Jesus dealt with his everyday life - the mocking, the slandering and countless other negative things - and how he submitted with such humility. I was so lost in this thought, that I became acutely aware of how selfish I was. I think it was the moment that I was grumbling and asking myself "Well, I wonder how much Jesus submitted?" The answer came like a swift kick to the shin:

He actually submitted His entire life.

I laughed out loud to myself. Oh, right... yeah, His life... for me... freedom... yeah. While it was humorous, it felt like I ran into a brick wall when my epiphany came. Now as I am reassembling myself from the hit, I am fearful of messing up or becoming a ball of stone as I am trying to find this line, trying to distinguish where I am supposed to stand as a Christian and my submission to authority. I will admit that it is painfully hard at the end of the day to see how much I take when trying to be the genuine Christian I am supposed to be, but I also know Christ suffered far more than I ever have or ever will.

"Submit yourselves to your authority with all respect, not only to those who are good and considerate, but also to those who are harsh. For it is commendable if a man bears up under the pain of unjust suffering because he is conscious of God. But how is it to your credit if you receive a beating for doing wrong and endure it? But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps." 1 Peter 2:18-21

Honestly, after reading that, I feel that I have no excuse. Even feeling remotely sorry for myself and asking for sympathy is pathetic. Perhaps what it crumbles down to is that I may feel this hardship and the oppression at every side, but at the end of the day... God is for me, and if He is for me, who can be against me. That is not a question; it is a statement. I just need to keep this as a daily reminder. Lather, rinse, repeat.

This line seems clearer from here, but I must keep trekking forward in order to find that, maybe, there really is no line. The only line I can recall now is one that Jesus drew in the sand, asking "he that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone..." and as the stones were dropped, the woman was won to Christ. So these stones that are thrown from this world may be painful and may cause me to run three miles without a care, but I know I am taking these hits for a reason. A wiser and more knowledgeable reason far out of my reach, but one day it will make sense.

Jazzin' and Stoppin' My Shoppin'.

I recently finished a book by the name of Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller, and I am happy to announce that I have a new favorite author (memoirist?). I question memoirist because, while it is a book, it is also written around the incredibly hilarious moments that Miller encounters throughout his life. His life in moments of God encounters, human interactions, hippie living and all-around character building. This is in no way a book review, but rather a synopsis. This also serves nothing more than to highly recommend this book to those who want a good laugh, a jiggle in their belly and a deeper understanding to their relationship with God or lack thereof.

I can personally attest to the "deeper understanding" when I read a specific chapter on money. Miller explained how he was terrible with money at one point-in-time (possibly still struggles, as we all do) and was craving the push of his "pleasure button" by buying a remote controlled car. Well, he had a great friend named Penny and she did one of those Christian-like things by telling Miller that there was a starving child in such-and-such place and by buying this remote controlled car, he was hindering that child’s hope. Excuse my paraphrasing; I will get to my point soon. Then Miller began to explain Penny's character and how she was quite the selfless one. So much so, that she even stopped shopping for clothes for an entire year - all to make sure that her money was going to those who were starving in such-and-such place.

As I closed off that chapter, I was lost in the thought of Penny and her selfless act. I know it is not a notable selfless act, nothing comparable to running inside of a burning building to save a puppy. However, say that to the person (me) that finds something cheap, justifies the need for it in their (my) life, and makes the purchase almost every time. In getting to my point in a timely manner, I have decided to put a stop on my shopping for an entire year. I am mentally preparing myself for this action because I need to know that I am doing this for the right reason(s). Monthly, I am supporting a child in Northern Uganda for their education; I have bills; tithing to church - which is not my money to begin with - and the small necessities. Thus, my shopping habit can be snipped for a year, because "my" money is supposed to go elsewhere, anyway.


I just want to make myself aware that this habit is cut, ultimately, for God. I do not want it cut for my own reasons, but for the reasons that the money attained is used for Him. As of March 29, 2010, I will not shop for an entire year. I may even drop the time limit. I am plenty blessed with plenty of clothes, so there really is no reason to shop until I get married. Wait, what if that never happens? Oh, boy. Here goes my focusing.

By the way, you should read Blue Like Jazz.

Cameras and Creeps = Chatroulette

Roulette [noun]: A game depending on luck.

Here it is, ladies and gentlemen, another trend in the works for every being who owns a computer, has internet and owns a webcam. This latest trend is called "Chatroulette", and it is quickly becoming a cure for boredum, a distractor for college students and, most of all, an open door for any predator (you know, those child molesters and stalkers). Now how many of the above-mentioned actions are a good thing? I thought so. Here are the notes and rules for this incredibly distasteful trend:

Notes:

• Mirror: chatrt.com

• This application uses peer-to-peer connection. Please configure your firewall accordingly.

• If you don't want to see the "allow/deny webcam" window every time you are connected.

1. Right-click on the camera panel and select "Settings".

2. In the second tab, check "Remember" to remember your choice.

Rules:

• 16+

• Please stay clothed

• Please click "Report" (or press F2) to report your partner for breaking rules

Sixteen. That is the age "limit" to this web forum involving cameras and creeps. Then I begin to think of how how stupid was I at sixteen. My brain so underdeveloped and my knowledge so weak. I literally receive chills running up and down my spine when I read over this. As a youth leader, I would be more than angry to find a youth participating in this. I suppose it is because I expect that they would be smarter than to devote their time to a "game" that is not so much a game. Granted, I have never given my time to this Chatroulette - mainly because I have better things to do with my time - but the thought of it brings images of horror stories and the sound of Nancy Grace's voice, screaming and carrying on in such a passion of how another teen has gone missing.

I know the discussion with my friends about this particular "game" brought many different views, mainly those that were not in agreement with mine - "It is no different than Facebook" and "What were you doing at that age?". Which is fine; we are all entitled to our own opinions. Perhaps it is just the environment I grew up in, with my mother not even in agreement with my Xanga account and my Myspace being deleted thirteen times. Thanks, mom.

What ever the opinion is, I would love to hear it. What do you think about this fad "Chatroulette"?

Also, thank you to my new followers: Danielle and Rabena - whom I both know. Thank you, lovely ladies.

Picking, Parting and Pinpointing.

My thought process has come to a halt lately, and while this is normal for many, I would rather make excuses. For example, an excuse may be one like: Perhaps it is the Band-Aid that wraps my right, middle finger that is stalling me? Right. Well, in light of this all, I am typing with the Band-Aid intact and the hindering it provides is only that of a feeling that I have an overgrown middle finger. Papa middle finger? Okay.

Really, the entirety of this post is to pick at these thoughts that are making themselves too comfortable. By floating, these thoughts take up too much space. By hiding, they become lost. It is all one enigma that I cannot escape, so here I am; I am picking and I am parting these thoughts that feel entrapping. My halt can take its blame on the bed of chaos that I have been wrapped in. It is not the chaotic feeling that one may feel on a restless day; rather it is a healthy chaos that is taking root inside of me. In fact, the word "feel" does not seem fitting in this. It is more than a "feeling", because this is true and this is real. It has validity. Now the word "it" seems unfitting.

God. "It" is Him. The "feeling" is Him and He is everywhere. Even writing now, it seems so daunting to put into words the things that I am experiencing. This is a part in life to be pinpointed and tacked onto a board, to serve as a reminder to the what's, the why's, the how's and the where's that will eventually ensue. Because it has been incredibly hard to put into the words how God is working in my life, my writing pulled the emergency brake. I took the time to disengage and to figure out this light that has been shown onto a part of myself that I never knew. I seem to have fallen into a grace where I can be nothing but humble. The humility made its appearance once these questions flooded my mindset:

Do you know what it is like to dislike the person you are?
Do you know what it is like to one day feel so discouraged, because hope was placed in the wrong plug?
Do you know what it is like to crumble beneath the One who can speak to your heart?

I do. These hopes, these dreams, and this life - I had held onto them for far too long. My relationship with God had become stale and every inch was my fault. This revelation told is one that has been swirling in my head and I feel it has gone untold to even myself. I am not who I was. For God showed me that even these words - hate, spite, cynicism, revenge - cannot be held onto as I am running toward His heart; as His heart does not hold these words. No, no. The words that are found at His core are those of love, submission and forgiveness. Teaching myself to be the forgiver, to be the lover, and to be the submitter is a lesson that is learned every single day. This realization seems cliché, but putting all of this into practice in a world that hinders for a career, I cannot begin to explain the bruising caused from this awakened life.

I am bruised here and I am bruised there, but I will push. I will "fight the good fight" and I will "forget what is behind and strain towards what is ahead". As this new person that God is forming me to become, I am taking steps in the direction He has planned all along. I am learning to love God with all of my heart, my soul, my mind and my strength. With my thoughts picked and my thoughts parted, my pinpointed mark is made.

"Wake up, O' sleeper, the glory came through.

The glory shines through. We're wide awake now."