1. John Mayer may certainly believe his "shadow days are over," but I personally appreciate his inner bad-ace attitude...and I find it more believable. Gracias, John, for this new song. It ranks right up there with Heartbreak Warfare.
2. Everyone has differing opinions regarding how to talk about sex. This week my Marital/Premarital Counseling course opted for the extremely-uncomfortable-euphemisms-route, and boy, what a strange choice. I tend to think that, at least in the academic environment, it is 100% more appropriate to use proper terminology. But that's me. If you prefer to "tend your garden," okayyy Solomon, have at it.
3. Yesterday the skies threatened to storm all afternoon. When I got home from class, I promptly put on my play-in-the-rain attire, and waited. For two hours. The sky was billowy and grey, which reminded me of standing on Portugal's beaches in the rain. Breathtaking. After two hours of summoning the rain, I gave up, came inside, and cleaned up. The icing on the cake: I got to watch my roomie play church softball in the rain last night. It was such a refreshing way to end the week. (insert long train of thought about missing daily life outdoors)
4. My 26th birthday is coming up, and I have waited my entire life for it! In 2nd grade, my teacher Mrs. Paul told us about "golden birthdays," which means the birthday on which you turn the same age as your birth-date. Even though I've been waiting my whole life to turn 26, I have no idea how I am going to celebrate the big day. I've honestly never been too concerned about birthdays, but this year I hope to do something exciting! Suggestions?
(from shore)
23.6.12
8.6.12
breaking the silence...part III
Prior to this new understanding of God's grace in my life, I approached religion and the Christian lifestyle with misdirected attitudes. I considered biblical principles to be rules, and my failure to comply slapped a 2" by 6" piece of duct tape on my forehead: "UNWORTHY." My inability to get myself together fueled a constant fear of making mistakes and being exposed as the imposter among truly holy individuals.
My fear of failure and discouragement often silenced my desires to speak about Christ, take risks, or attempt new endeavors. Frequently I would avoid doing good things because I did not want to be hypocritical. Others may not have noticed any hypocrisy, but in my heart I felt the dichotomous nature between who I was (messed up) and who I wanted to be (a Christ-follower).
But the Gospel changes everything. Literally, E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. My pastor uses four points to guide the prayers of Summit church members. As these tenants have gradually permeated my heart, I've begun to believe them. The result: freedom and joy. Freedom to live and love unhindered by my own, blatant shortcomings. Joy to celebrate this life in Him. Christ is sufficient and abundant in me.
1. In Christ, there is nothing I could do to make You love me more; nothing I have done that makes You love me less.
2. You are all I need today for everlasting joy.
3. As You have been to me, so I will be to others.
4. As I pray, I'll measure Your compassion by the cross and Your power by the resurrection.
About three months ago, I was standing in a worship service at Summit and experienced something beyond my wildest dreams. For most of my life, I was painfully aware of my sin and doubt during worship. But on that evening, I realized God had caused my heart to truly rejoice in liberty and His grace. I felt a joy in my heart unlike any I had felt before. I know this joy is abiding, unshakeable, and able to cast off the gloom of my first nature. I praise my Savior for doing the impossible in my life: ushering in joyfulness by impacting the very core of my need.
I entitled this series "Breaking the Silence" because of a song I found recently that seems to express my experience over these last two years. The chorus, in particular, conveys my hopelessness turned into worship, by the grace of God.
Chorus of "Wonderful" by Christy Nockels
And my life will burn for you,
Because your light shined in the darkness,
I was hopeless, and you lifted up my head
To sing for joy,
With a song that broke the silence of my worship,
Now I'm singing all the day
And forevermore, you will be adored,
'Cause you are wonderful.
>There have been a number of individuals who have walked beside me these last two years, to which I owe a lifetime of thanks:
Hannah and Mark: for forgiveness and grace
Gabri: for processing through my sorrow and joy
Bobby and Allison: for inviting me to participate in true community
Carole: for teaching me life is not so serious afterall
Justin: for friendship saturated in forgiveness and understanding
Mitch and Allyson: for seeing the changes in me
My fear of failure and discouragement often silenced my desires to speak about Christ, take risks, or attempt new endeavors. Frequently I would avoid doing good things because I did not want to be hypocritical. Others may not have noticed any hypocrisy, but in my heart I felt the dichotomous nature between who I was (messed up) and who I wanted to be (a Christ-follower).
But the Gospel changes everything. Literally, E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. My pastor uses four points to guide the prayers of Summit church members. As these tenants have gradually permeated my heart, I've begun to believe them. The result: freedom and joy. Freedom to live and love unhindered by my own, blatant shortcomings. Joy to celebrate this life in Him. Christ is sufficient and abundant in me.
1. In Christ, there is nothing I could do to make You love me more; nothing I have done that makes You love me less.
2. You are all I need today for everlasting joy.
3. As You have been to me, so I will be to others.
4. As I pray, I'll measure Your compassion by the cross and Your power by the resurrection.
About three months ago, I was standing in a worship service at Summit and experienced something beyond my wildest dreams. For most of my life, I was painfully aware of my sin and doubt during worship. But on that evening, I realized God had caused my heart to truly rejoice in liberty and His grace. I felt a joy in my heart unlike any I had felt before. I know this joy is abiding, unshakeable, and able to cast off the gloom of my first nature. I praise my Savior for doing the impossible in my life: ushering in joyfulness by impacting the very core of my need.
I entitled this series "Breaking the Silence" because of a song I found recently that seems to express my experience over these last two years. The chorus, in particular, conveys my hopelessness turned into worship, by the grace of God.
Chorus of "Wonderful" by Christy Nockels
And my life will burn for you,
Because your light shined in the darkness,
I was hopeless, and you lifted up my head
To sing for joy,
With a song that broke the silence of my worship,
Now I'm singing all the day
And forevermore, you will be adored,
'Cause you are wonderful.
>There have been a number of individuals who have walked beside me these last two years, to which I owe a lifetime of thanks:
Hannah and Mark: for forgiveness and grace
Gabri: for processing through my sorrow and joy
Bobby and Allison: for inviting me to participate in true community
Carole: for teaching me life is not so serious afterall
Justin: for friendship saturated in forgiveness and understanding
Mitch and Allyson: for seeing the changes in me
3.6.12
breaking the silence...part II
Unfortunately, my last days in Portugal were tainted by grief, or at least the early signs of it. I remember distinctly mulling over the decision of who would take me to the airport that early June morning. One year prior, the decision would have been clear. But everything had changed. I felt overwhelmed by a sense that I had ruined everything, killed the friendships that had sustained me throughout my time there. I decided on a taxi cab. Yes, that was the appropriate send-off for someone who had left a trail of damaged relationships for the past six months.
Perhaps seeing my need, my team leader and his wife insisted that leaving in a taxi was a terrible idea. I awoke, stripped my sheets and placed them in the washing machine, placed my bags in the elevator, and stood on the curb. The morning was serene, adorned with early morning chill and quiet streets. The quiet continued on each flight home. Months that had culminated in bitterness steadily gave way to shame and hurt. At home, I soaked up the love of my family, something which felt every bit undeserved. I was the desolation after a storm, wreckage and spoil.
I moved to North Carolina. And still, I was a disaster. Sure, I was fortunate to make friends and forge a new lifestyle, but my carefree aspect was merely the fruit of inner turmoil that seemed well beyond my own ability to resolve or make sense of it. I had no difficulty shrugging off the opinion of others and no concern for my own reputation. No external opinion could have been as devastating as my own opinion of myself at that time. And for all the self-inflicted judgment, I felt surely God could not bear the sight of me or the words of my prayers.
And I tried speaking to Him, apologized multiple times daily for my failures. Every prayer began with remorse for the sin and grief that flowed through my veins and stole the life of those I had loved. Never in my life had the knowledge of my own sin been more apparent. I would venture to say that I did not understand my sin until this point, when God allowed me to be utterly crushed by my own doing. At its foundation, the problem was not the offenses of others. God was concerned with my responses and the apparent gracelessness within me. Not only had I refused to go to my brother and sister in love, but I had slandered the very body of Christ.
For months, my Father kept reiterating two lessons. Gossip, at its very heart, is exponentially more damaging than speaking words at the expense of others. And gossip was rampant among our mission team. Absolutely disgraceful. I was a listener, and people love to speak openly when someone is listening. I heard everything, and gossip is poisonous. Especially among believers, gossip is hatefulness toward those who are also part of Christ, members of His very own, chosen body. To speak against fellow Christians is to offend Christ himself. My sin against my brothers and sisters was equivalent to slapping my Savior's face, repeatedly. Judging others in that way revealed I had no real knowledge of my own sin, the severity of my forgiven debts, and what it cost Christ to save me. How could I accept a reprieve on my own debts, only to turn around and exact payment for minor offenses from others? I looked into the law of grace, forgot it, and proceeded to punish others.
The second lesson was gradual and painful. I continued to dialogue with the Lord, but my prayers were dominated by knowledge of my own sin and inability to fix myself. II Corinthians 7:10 says that "godly grief leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death." Somehow I knew I needed to experience godly grief, because the overwhelming shame I felt was killing my spirit daily. I would awake, pray, be slain by my sin, pray, drown in my shame, pray, despair. I desperately needed salvation that came not from my own hand or devices, but the salvation from Christ that rescues the powerless. Gradually as I acknowledged my inability, God began washing away the remorse, guilt, sadness, pain, and shame.
These two lessons were the impetus for what was to come, the unimaginable joy that I could not have hoped or asked for. But that unchanging joy could only be found on the heals of understanding the true gospel. I know that God began working in my life when I was very young, but I could not appreciate His salvation until I was demolished by the knowledge of my own sin, in all its ugliness. I could not appreciate His grace until I knew my desperate want of it. I am the invalid, sick, criminal, ugly, and unworthy. And yet God in His perfect love chose to wash, heal, restore, forgive, and adorn me with His mercy. I could not have cleaned myself up enough for Him; I had to surrender in my weakness and trust His grace to take pity on me...
Perhaps seeing my need, my team leader and his wife insisted that leaving in a taxi was a terrible idea. I awoke, stripped my sheets and placed them in the washing machine, placed my bags in the elevator, and stood on the curb. The morning was serene, adorned with early morning chill and quiet streets. The quiet continued on each flight home. Months that had culminated in bitterness steadily gave way to shame and hurt. At home, I soaked up the love of my family, something which felt every bit undeserved. I was the desolation after a storm, wreckage and spoil.
I moved to North Carolina. And still, I was a disaster. Sure, I was fortunate to make friends and forge a new lifestyle, but my carefree aspect was merely the fruit of inner turmoil that seemed well beyond my own ability to resolve or make sense of it. I had no difficulty shrugging off the opinion of others and no concern for my own reputation. No external opinion could have been as devastating as my own opinion of myself at that time. And for all the self-inflicted judgment, I felt surely God could not bear the sight of me or the words of my prayers.
And I tried speaking to Him, apologized multiple times daily for my failures. Every prayer began with remorse for the sin and grief that flowed through my veins and stole the life of those I had loved. Never in my life had the knowledge of my own sin been more apparent. I would venture to say that I did not understand my sin until this point, when God allowed me to be utterly crushed by my own doing. At its foundation, the problem was not the offenses of others. God was concerned with my responses and the apparent gracelessness within me. Not only had I refused to go to my brother and sister in love, but I had slandered the very body of Christ.
For months, my Father kept reiterating two lessons. Gossip, at its very heart, is exponentially more damaging than speaking words at the expense of others. And gossip was rampant among our mission team. Absolutely disgraceful. I was a listener, and people love to speak openly when someone is listening. I heard everything, and gossip is poisonous. Especially among believers, gossip is hatefulness toward those who are also part of Christ, members of His very own, chosen body. To speak against fellow Christians is to offend Christ himself. My sin against my brothers and sisters was equivalent to slapping my Savior's face, repeatedly. Judging others in that way revealed I had no real knowledge of my own sin, the severity of my forgiven debts, and what it cost Christ to save me. How could I accept a reprieve on my own debts, only to turn around and exact payment for minor offenses from others? I looked into the law of grace, forgot it, and proceeded to punish others.
The second lesson was gradual and painful. I continued to dialogue with the Lord, but my prayers were dominated by knowledge of my own sin and inability to fix myself. II Corinthians 7:10 says that "godly grief leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death." Somehow I knew I needed to experience godly grief, because the overwhelming shame I felt was killing my spirit daily. I would awake, pray, be slain by my sin, pray, drown in my shame, pray, despair. I desperately needed salvation that came not from my own hand or devices, but the salvation from Christ that rescues the powerless. Gradually as I acknowledged my inability, God began washing away the remorse, guilt, sadness, pain, and shame.
These two lessons were the impetus for what was to come, the unimaginable joy that I could not have hoped or asked for. But that unchanging joy could only be found on the heals of understanding the true gospel. I know that God began working in my life when I was very young, but I could not appreciate His salvation until I was demolished by the knowledge of my own sin, in all its ugliness. I could not appreciate His grace until I knew my desperate want of it. I am the invalid, sick, criminal, ugly, and unworthy. And yet God in His perfect love chose to wash, heal, restore, forgive, and adorn me with His mercy. I could not have cleaned myself up enough for Him; I had to surrender in my weakness and trust His grace to take pity on me...
breaking the silence...part I
This post has been a long time coming: two years, to be exact. Or at least that was the beginning of the process. Rewind to Portugal 2010. That spring I was preparing to leave Lisbon in June, and my spiritual life was every bit as tumultuous as moving back across the ocean. I felt alone, isolated from anyone in whom I believed I could trust. Given that my personality for most of my life has been weighed down by melancholy and loneliness, that spring was not markedly abnormal. Except for one major element: friendship discord.
All throughout my life, God has been faithful to provide me with good friends and a thoroughly supportive family. In Portugal, I grew to love and depend on my teammates and national friends. But at some point during my two year term, I began feeling isolated and skeptical of my relationships with teammates. All I can deduce is that my mind was shrouded in negativity. Nearly everything and everyone failed to escape the judgmental scrutiny of my thoughts. Imagine your most cherished friend and the loving endurance of your relationship. What if suddenly your heart was filled with cynical observations that quickly turned into condemnation? Friendships cannot withstand that type of judgment.
Now having the benefit of two years to reflect, I see that my mind was saturated with lies and evil. I do not mean to say that somehow the lies were the result of some other person's doing. On the contrary, I know that the lies, self-righteousness, and judmentalism arose from the dark depths of my soul. I was blinded and hateful. Not only that, I was malicious. Having no one to speak with about my frustrations, the lies and hurt marinated in my heart until they festered like exposed wounds.
I now consider my position on the team in Portugal to have been a unique one. There was no one with whom I could have spoken freely about my thoughts, without being slanderous...everyone was tied together as one team. I did make efforts to speak with a counselor, but benefited little from the interaction. By the time I realized I needed to speak directly with my estranged friend, my hurt and deception had become a twisted web of bitterness. Given that I would be leaving Portugal shortly, I decided to maintain my silence and apologize to those I had involved in my struggle.
Thankfully, by God's grace, my friend confronted me one early morning during the last week I was in Lisbon. Sitting in a cafe, tearfully exposing my sin was probably the hardest experience I have ever gone through. By that point, it did not matter whether my hurt was substantiated; I was thoroughly wrong and injudicious. I have never in my life experienced that kind of spiritual torment. What I did not know then was that the heartache would continue for at least another year...
All throughout my life, God has been faithful to provide me with good friends and a thoroughly supportive family. In Portugal, I grew to love and depend on my teammates and national friends. But at some point during my two year term, I began feeling isolated and skeptical of my relationships with teammates. All I can deduce is that my mind was shrouded in negativity. Nearly everything and everyone failed to escape the judgmental scrutiny of my thoughts. Imagine your most cherished friend and the loving endurance of your relationship. What if suddenly your heart was filled with cynical observations that quickly turned into condemnation? Friendships cannot withstand that type of judgment.
Now having the benefit of two years to reflect, I see that my mind was saturated with lies and evil. I do not mean to say that somehow the lies were the result of some other person's doing. On the contrary, I know that the lies, self-righteousness, and judmentalism arose from the dark depths of my soul. I was blinded and hateful. Not only that, I was malicious. Having no one to speak with about my frustrations, the lies and hurt marinated in my heart until they festered like exposed wounds.
I now consider my position on the team in Portugal to have been a unique one. There was no one with whom I could have spoken freely about my thoughts, without being slanderous...everyone was tied together as one team. I did make efforts to speak with a counselor, but benefited little from the interaction. By the time I realized I needed to speak directly with my estranged friend, my hurt and deception had become a twisted web of bitterness. Given that I would be leaving Portugal shortly, I decided to maintain my silence and apologize to those I had involved in my struggle.
Thankfully, by God's grace, my friend confronted me one early morning during the last week I was in Lisbon. Sitting in a cafe, tearfully exposing my sin was probably the hardest experience I have ever gone through. By that point, it did not matter whether my hurt was substantiated; I was thoroughly wrong and injudicious. I have never in my life experienced that kind of spiritual torment. What I did not know then was that the heartache would continue for at least another year...
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