Its funny how God loves despite everything and anything I might do, think, or say. It's not funny how much I do not believe it. I know it breaks Your heart. it must. because I have seen the same thing played out in human relationships. I don't believe you love me, even though you have loved me so well. And the person is left feeling helpless, with the overcoming realization that no matter how hard they try to demonstrate their love, to be faithful in their love, it won't change anything until I believe that they truly, deeply love me. I imagine that with God it has to be different, as we are just reflections, beautiful ones, of the love that God has towards us. And His love is more resilient and relentless than we will ever comprehend on this side of Eden.
But I do imagine that it breaks His heart all the more, to see how often I run into this wall, that seems to get thicker and taller with time. The sickening wall that allows me to say "I am loved by God" as my insides reek of suspicion and doubt. I know. I can see past that wall. I can see the other side. The fields of green, the laughter, the freedom. I know His precious Son would have died for me, even if it was just me on this earth that He came to save. I know the goodness of God. I see it. I see it like the sun that rises. That clear. but there is that wall. The wall that I seem to run into with full force, only to find myself crumbled at the foot of it. I have tried the repetition, the prayers, the gritting of teeth as I wake up with a resolve to believe that I am truly loved by God. Resolve, it never really works does it?
I hate that wall. I see the effects it has on my life. I hate it so much. I want the slow process to get quicker, because right now, I am doubting that there is a process even happening at all. You know, the process of Christianity. The "journey." the "season." Call it whatever you will. Its been almost five years and I am still doubtful of this God who rescued me, transformed me, redeemed me.
WHY?
I do not know how to change my brain. Do you not think that if I could, I already would have? I have even contemplated making a track on my ipod with the clear and simple message of, "Anthi, you are loved by God. You are His beloved. Forever, no matter what," and playing it over, and over and over and over again. christian brainwashing. I'm sure its been done. However, I won't do that.
I just read a blog that my pastor wrote, and in it he mentions that at 33 years old he finally, truly, deeply believes he is loved by God. 33. I am 21. You do the math. It was encouraging. and incredibly disheartening. automatically I thought, I have to ask him what he did to believe. I was looking for a formula-as any good, recovering legalist would do. Oh, but I know. I know there is no formula. I have listened to people's reasons and answers for why I can't grasp that God loves me. People who have answers for everything. (i am also a recovering one of those...what are those called? #@!%) So anyway, there are reasons that span from evil forces and spirits (don't get me wrong, I do believe in all that) to the problem being within me, to not having a physical father present in my life. I am sure there is some truth to some of it. I know there is, God has shown me that. But I also know God is greater than all of that. And so perhaps, if there is to be any "formula" to be found at all, it would be the trust that comes from a surrendered life. that He who started the good work in me will complete it. and friends, I'm still working on that.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
give me something to write about.
over the last couple of days, my fingers have been thinking about writing, but not quite making the decision, thanks to busyness and Lost. This morning, I prayed, and asked God to help me. I need help managing my time. When I was in YWAM, I think I forgot what the words "free time" meant. If I was not in a lecture hall, I was cleaning, if I was not cleaning, I was out selling cakes for our missions trips. If I was not out selling cakes for a missions trip, I was on a mission trip, teaching English and running summer camps for kids. I will write more about my YWAM experience later, because I have been meaning to for quite a while now. Fast forward, and I am in Charlotte, NC, with free time that gets filled in a matter of seconds. I have free time. I fill it. Today I remembered a verse that I used to say to myself a lot.
"Teach me to number my days, so that I may present to you a heart of wisdom."
Apparently, Moses wrote this. Or so I learned in the School of the Bible. And here I am, who knows how many years later, praying the same thing. And I am not leading a bunch of ungrateful, forgetful Israelites through the desert. I am the ungrateful, forgetful Israelite. and then there is God. This great beautiful God who is leading me through my own modern day desert. Who leads me through deserts into great waters that fulfill and nourish, and yet I seem to forget. I seem to forget the days where He fulfilled his promises to me. I seem to forget His hand of protection over my life. I seem to forget that His very Spirit is sustaining me. This forgetfulness causes my days to blur past me. It causes boredom, discontentment and apathy. It causes my days to be nothing more than a list of things to do.
But I want to number my days.
I want to number the times in a day where Jesus speaks. I want to number the times that I see the miracle of life. Of a life being wooed, being transformed, being pursued. I want to number the days of the Lord's faithfulness towards me, towards my family and friends. I have seen so many people come out of a place of despair and desolation into a place of great hope. I have seen time and time again the miracle of a forgiving life, of a redeemed life, of a serving life. I have seen all of this, and so much more. I have seen the days of persistence that it has taken for one soul to believe that there are people in this world that truly love them, no strings attached. And all of these great miracles have taken place in a series of seemingly mundane days, with nothing overtly extraordinary happening, except of course, for that ball of fire called the sun, warming the whole earth, beaming outside the window, and the sky painted in a mixture of colors that no human hand could ever replicate, and oxygen that moves in and out of billions of frail bodies that manage to breathe and hope despite all the suffering and because of all the beauty. No, nothing extraordinary at all.
"Teach me to number my days, so that I may present to you a heart of wisdom."
"Teach me to number my days, so that I may present to you a heart of wisdom."
Apparently, Moses wrote this. Or so I learned in the School of the Bible. And here I am, who knows how many years later, praying the same thing. And I am not leading a bunch of ungrateful, forgetful Israelites through the desert. I am the ungrateful, forgetful Israelite. and then there is God. This great beautiful God who is leading me through my own modern day desert. Who leads me through deserts into great waters that fulfill and nourish, and yet I seem to forget. I seem to forget the days where He fulfilled his promises to me. I seem to forget His hand of protection over my life. I seem to forget that His very Spirit is sustaining me. This forgetfulness causes my days to blur past me. It causes boredom, discontentment and apathy. It causes my days to be nothing more than a list of things to do.
But I want to number my days.
I want to number the times in a day where Jesus speaks. I want to number the times that I see the miracle of life. Of a life being wooed, being transformed, being pursued. I want to number the days of the Lord's faithfulness towards me, towards my family and friends. I have seen so many people come out of a place of despair and desolation into a place of great hope. I have seen time and time again the miracle of a forgiving life, of a redeemed life, of a serving life. I have seen all of this, and so much more. I have seen the days of persistence that it has taken for one soul to believe that there are people in this world that truly love them, no strings attached. And all of these great miracles have taken place in a series of seemingly mundane days, with nothing overtly extraordinary happening, except of course, for that ball of fire called the sun, warming the whole earth, beaming outside the window, and the sky painted in a mixture of colors that no human hand could ever replicate, and oxygen that moves in and out of billions of frail bodies that manage to breathe and hope despite all the suffering and because of all the beauty. No, nothing extraordinary at all.
"Teach me to number my days, so that I may present to you a heart of wisdom."
Friday, June 3, 2011
cheers to simplicity.
Writing has been on my mind lately. With more and more people starting blogs, it seems overwhelming to put my simple thoughts on a blog for a couple of people to see. But the truth is, I do need a writing community. I need your feedback and encouragement. I also want to see you write and create. I would love and do love to read what you write. I love reading what strangers write. People who I just admire from afar.
I confess I have been intimidated by all the blogs about being married, eating healthy, trying new recipes and having babies. Then there are the blogs that are so drenched in religious lingo, I can't keep up. And in between all of those things, I think, what am I doing? I don't have widgets and gadgets, and pictures and buttons. I don't have witty stories to tell or clever social critiques. I mean, who can compete with The Oatmeal or Hyperbole and a Half? Certainly, not I.
Could I entertain you with my life? No. The good thing is, I am not here to entertain.
But this is a space. I want this to become a space for honesty. Just thoughts, experiences, living in the daily. I know I am young. Sometimes I feel as though I should not write because I am so young. A little voice that comes from who-knows-where says I am too young, that I have not lived enough life to have anything substantial or profound to write about.
I am not going to try to be profound or substantial anymore. Because I am realizing that I no longer need to write for you, but for me. and for Him. And whatever comes of it, so be it. I hope you understand what I mean by that. I am tired of writing with a specific purpose, I have no thesis that I am backing up. And whether or not you realized it, I was writing to attain something, to get somewhere, to demonstrate something, and I was not simply writing for the act itself. For the beauty and release and clarity it proves to be.
I confess I have been intimidated by all the blogs about being married, eating healthy, trying new recipes and having babies. Then there are the blogs that are so drenched in religious lingo, I can't keep up. And in between all of those things, I think, what am I doing? I don't have widgets and gadgets, and pictures and buttons. I don't have witty stories to tell or clever social critiques. I mean, who can compete with The Oatmeal or Hyperbole and a Half? Certainly, not I.
Could I entertain you with my life? No. The good thing is, I am not here to entertain.
But this is a space. I want this to become a space for honesty. Just thoughts, experiences, living in the daily. I know I am young. Sometimes I feel as though I should not write because I am so young. A little voice that comes from who-knows-where says I am too young, that I have not lived enough life to have anything substantial or profound to write about.
I am not going to try to be profound or substantial anymore. Because I am realizing that I no longer need to write for you, but for me. and for Him. And whatever comes of it, so be it. I hope you understand what I mean by that. I am tired of writing with a specific purpose, I have no thesis that I am backing up. And whether or not you realized it, I was writing to attain something, to get somewhere, to demonstrate something, and I was not simply writing for the act itself. For the beauty and release and clarity it proves to be.
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