Category Archive
The following is a list of all entries from the Uncategorized category.
Learning How to Mourn
These past 40 days of the Lenten season, an idea has been running through my head. It’s the idea of learning how to mourn. Sometimes it seems as if the Church is not a place to mourn. As modern-day believers, we know that Christ has risen. We know we have hope. And because of these things, we are told to be joyful. And joy is a vital, important thing to cling to, especially in days like these. But I’m not sure if anyone can truly know joy if he or she has never truly mourned. Sometimes when a believer opens up and shares grief or a difficultly that is keeping them up at night, a first response from fellow believers is an uplifting cliché, meant to encourage but somehow not being enough. With good intentions, we sometimes do not spend time mourning but instead fill up the silence with words or thoughts that are about joy. But joy that is false is no joy at all.
These thoughts bring me to the last days of Holy Week: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday. On Maundy Thursday, we remember the last meal Jesus had with his disciples before he was arrested. We remember Jesus’ prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. We remember how his beloved disciples fell asleep in his darkest hour.
Today, on Good Friday, I am thinking about the paradox of such a title. On a day when Christ was brutally tortured and killed, “good” seems to be the wrong adjective to use. I imagine that those who followed Christ, those who stood beneath the cross, were just waiting for Jesus to show his power and end his execution. As the hours went by, their hope must have diminished. This day was certainly not a good day for them.
In current Christian tradition, it seems as if Good Friday and Easter Sunday get all of the attention, but my mind always drifts to Holy Saturday. This was the day to mourn. This was the day when Jesus’ followers must have felt numb and shattered. They must have been thinking that Jesus was just like all the other men claiming to perform miracles and save men’s souls, men who also died leaving behind bewildered followers. On the Saturday after Jesus’ death, I can’t imagine the heartache his disciples felt. I can’t imagine Mary’s grief. These people must have mourned for all they had lost. They had lost a leader, a friend, a son, a Savior, and a Messiah. They had lost their life’s purpose. These 24 hours must have been brutal. We have the luxury of knowing what would happen the next day, that Jesus would indeed defeat death. But his followers did not know this. They missed Jesus’ clues. Instead, they mourned.
On Easter Sunday, their mourning must have ended. The tomb was empty and Christ was alive. Hundreds of people saw him during his final days on this earth. They saw the man who was supposed to be dead walking around with his friends, the men who would eventually spread the message of the Gospel around the world. On that first Easter, hope was restored. Death was defeated. Jesus revealed the power of God, making redemption possible and the Christian faith worth something after all.
I’m not sure if Jesus’ followers could have experienced the joy of that first Easter had they not mourned on Good Friday and Holy Saturday. I think the same still applies to us, still applies to me.
It is not a pleasant thing to do an inventory of one’s soul. It is much easier to believe that my flaws are not that bad, that my choices are not that destructive. But the whole purpose of the Lenten season is to reflect, be honest, and repent. It is a time to give something up to gain something even greater.
I believe that it is difficult to understand the love of Christ until we are face-to-face with our own humanity. It is there, when we mourn for what we are and what we have lost, that we can receive grace and joy. It is there we can know redemption, the gift that Easter presents us with.
The Christian faith is incredibly paradoxical. Through Christ’s death, we have life. By losing our life to Christ, we gain life. We are to pray for our enemies and love those who in no way deserve to be loved. And too, we mourn to know joy. We confront our brokenness so that we can receive the grace of God with the utmost joy and zeal. Christ was broken so we would not have to be any longer. Because of that, today, a day we remember Christ’s death, is indeed good. It is good because we know the end of the story. Saturday is Holy because we know that Christ was indeed set apart.
My favorite poem is “Good Friday, 1613, Riding Westward” by John Donne. He concludes his Good Friday reflections with these lines:
O Saviour, as Thou hang’st upon the tree.
I turn my back to thee but to receive
Corrections till Thy mercies bid Thee leave.
O think me worth Thine anger, punish me,
Burn off my rust, and my deformity ;
Restore Thine image, so much, by Thy grace,
That Thou mayst know me, and I’ll turn my face.
The speaker of this poem has mourned. He knows he is not even worth God’s anger or punishment. But he also knows that the glory and majesty of God’s face is very real, so real that he will have to turn away from the sight. May we see, if only for a moment, the beauty in the brokenness. May we mourn for what has been lost, knowing all the while that it will not be lost forever.
Ash Wednesday
Today is Ash Wednesday, the day that marks the beginning of the Lenten season which culminates on Easter Sunday. Easter is the cornerstone of the entire Christian faith. Without the resurrection that occurred on the first Easter morning, Jesus would have been a maniac instead of a Savior. Without Easter, the birth of Christ would have no meaning now. The resurrection is a sign that in a world of false Messiahs, Christ was in fact the only true God. It is also a symbol for the life God can and does raise in His Bride.
Last year was the first year that I participated in Lent and it was one of the richest times of my spiritual journey. During those 40 days, I experienced some of my most terrifying and depressing moments, but those moments did not take away from the lessons I was learning or the process I was going through. As someone who is self-addicted about 95% of the time, Lent is a season where I force myself to focus on giving something up, where I make myself examine my heart and see what it truly looks like without the façade.
As I have stopped to ponder the significance of Ash Wednesday, I’ve thought about a lot of things. My church does not have an Ash Wednesday service, but in traditional services the clergyman will use ashes to place a cross on the congregants’ foreheads which most will leave on until after sundown. Though I haven’t ever experienced this myself, I think it’s a really beautiful idea. That ash-drawn cross is a reminder that life is not about me and my own pursuits. It is a sign to the world that today is a day set apart to focus on humility in the light of the cross.
In faith, it is always easier to brush over the hard truths and instead focus upon the ones that promise peace or joy or fellowship. I think of Ash Wednesday as a day to ask God what sin really looks like. I know that I have no true concept of sin. I don’t understand its weight or its consequences. I don’t understand how one lie is just as sinful as molesting a child. Even certain things performed out of goodness can be sinful depending on the motivations behind them. To better understand sin, it is also important to better understand grace. When considering sin, one must also consider that the God who created us and gave us free will was also willing to take on the sins of his creatures and die a brutal, humiliating death. The bitter truth of sin and Good Friday are very dark ideas but they are illuminated as the Church looks forward to the resurrection.
All throughout the day I have been thinking about and listening to the Hold Steady’s song, “How a Resurrection Really Feels.” These are the lyrics to the first verse:
Her parents named her Hallelujah, the kids all called her Holly
If she scared you then she’s sorry
She’s been stranded at these parties
These parties, they start lovely but they get druggy and they get ugly and they get bloodyThe priest just kinda laughed
The deacon caught a draft
She crashed into the Easter mass with her hair done up in broken glass
She was limping left on broken heels
When she said, “Father, can I tell your congregation how a resurrection really feels?”
The song ends with the repeated refrain of “Walk on back.” I think that is what the season of Lent is all about. It is about seeing yourself as Hallelujah, to see the brokenness and the weariness and the limping. It is about knowing human depravity and weakness. It is about mourning sin and its power to destroy.
Ash Wednesday is about all of these things, but it is also a time to look forward and to walk back. It begins a time of preparation for the resurrection. Easter should never be just another Christian holiday but should be a time when the Church is reminded of hope and renewal and redemption.
Though I don’t have a cross on my forehead today, I am thinking about ashes and what they symbolize. Ashes are what remain after a fire. They show what once was, but not in any recognizable way. In a sense, I am very much like a pile of ashes. I exist and I can be seen, but all that is left is a pile of dirt. We are not who we were meant to be. We were created in the image of God to be just a little lower than the angels. After the Fall, we turned to ashes. Death entered the world. Punishment and brokenness made their way into humanity. All that was left of the beauty of Eden was ashes, a bitter reminder of what was left after the destruction of sin.
But ashes can be easily removed or washed away. In spite of humanity’s brokenness, there is hope. There is restoration. There is grace, grace that gives us back the life we were intended to live. It is grace that enables us to tell anyone how a resurrection feels.
Everyone Wants to be Found
Last weekend I re-watched one of my favorite films, Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation. I first saw this film a few years ago when I was still in high school. I remember being so moved by the images of a crowded, loud, and bright Tokyo. I was caught up in the beauty of Scarlett Johansson and in the subtlety of Bill Murray. More than anything, I was enthralled with the story of those actors’ characters, Charlotte and Bob.
Charlotte is a twentysomething married woman who holds a degree in philosophy from Yale. Her husband is a photographer and she comes to Tokyo with him while he is working. Their marriage is in its early stages but is already seeing signs of decay. Her husband seems much more interested in work than in her. Charlotte calls a friend back home to talk about her feelings and the friend is completely oblivious to Charlotte’s pain. Charlotte is a hurting woman desperately longing to be seen.
Bob is an American actor who has lost his fame. He comes to Tokyo to shoot a whiskey commercial. He is married to a woman who is no longer impressed with him. With her, he has children who don’t seem especially impressed, either. When he speaks to his wife over the phone, she acts as if it’s an ordeal just to speak to him. She just wants his opinions on carpet samples but does not really want to hear his stories. This eventually drives him to turn away from her. Bob, like Charlotte, is simply drifting through life, just getting through and wanting connection.
The two find their connection in one another. They meet in the lounge of the hotel they’re both staying out and begin an interesting friendship. Friends is all these two ever are. Their relationship stays chaste and respectable. Bob is not above cheating on his wife, but he does not put Charlotte in that role. She is something else to him, and he is something else to her.
In each other, they find connection. Charlotte finds someone who listens to her and wants to spend time with her. Bob finds someone who enjoys his company and invites him into her life. They find in each other what they have been seeking, what they have been so desperate for.
When the film ends, we see how difficult it is for these two people to go their separate ways. Bob whispers something into Charlotte’s ear during their last goodbye and the audience does not get to hear what he says. In Robert Ebert’s review for this film, he said that by the end of the film, Bob and Charlotte have earned their privacy; what Bob said was meant for Charlotte’s ears only. Perhaps they were words only she could understand or appreciate.
As I finished watching the movie last weekend, I was struck by how deeply this story resonated in me this time around. Every time I have watched this movie I have felt something stir inside me but never had the stirring been so intense. Watching it, I was reminded of several things.
I was reminded that I have been Charlotte throughout my life’s most recent seasons. I have longed to be seen in ways that I never have before. I have been desperate for community, for real relationships, and for someone to hear my story but I have not actively sought any of those things. Like Charlotte with her self-help tapes, I have tried to solve things on my own in my own adventure. But that has yet to get me anywhere and the longing still remains.
I was also reminded how desperately people are made to need other people. The first time I watched Lost in Translation I thought about the idea that there are some moments in people’s lives where God allows someone else to enter in, however briefly, to remind one or both people that they are not alone, that they are seen.
One of the taglines for the film is “Everyone wants to be found.” That is such a short statement, but also a profound one. It is one that resonates deeply within me during this time in my life. It reminds me that I am not alone in my desires. It reminds me of the power of words, how five simple words put together can say something so reflective about humanity.
As I have sat thinking about this movie, my feelings, and how the two mesh, I keep going back to the ending, to the whisper between the two friends. I wonder if perhaps it is in whispers that we are found. I wonder if our “foundness” occurs in subtle moments, moments which might seem like nothing but could mean everything when viewed through the proper lens. While big events certainly shape us, it is who we are in the minute, ordinary moments of daily life that reveal who we are and what we want.
As I think about what Bob said to Charlotte, I think about what the whisper is for me. Who are my friends telling me I am? Who is my family saying I have become? What is God thinking when He sees my brokenness, my self-addiction? What are the whispers, where are the moments, and who are the people that can possibly change my path and my heart? I believe if those things and that person can appear in the lounge of a Tokyo hotel for two American strangers then they can appear anywhere, anytime, with anyone. If I truly do want to be found, I must open my eyes and fight for it.
Escape
Lately, I have been in self-help mode. I’ve been aware of the fact that there are many things in my life that need to be changed, many habits that I need to quit and many habits that I need to start. I know I need to choose healthier foods. I know I need to set aside time every day to write. I know I need to spend more time on my schoolwork. I know I need to exercise. I know I need to spend time in communion with God. I know I need to learn how to give. Those are the things I know I should be doing. As for the things I should not be doing, I shouldn’t procrastinate so much. I shouldn’t be so messy and disorganized. I shouldn’t waste so much time online. I shouldn’t waste so much time, period.
I have felt incredibly burnt out lately. I like my school and am enjoying most of my classes this semester, but I am tired. I am tired of completing one task and then immediately having to start on another one. I am tired of reading things I have to read and not having time to read things I want to read. I am discouraged that my efforts seem to be in vain sometimes. I have been lacking enthusiasm to try harder.
As I said, I’ve been in self-help mode since the beginning of the year. In the spare time I do have, I’ve been reading books to help me figure things out. I’ve been reading books on art, creativity, and what it means to be an artist. I’ve been reading spiritual books that I expect to help guide me. I’m just starting a book about food and what it truly is. I read a lot of books, but I rarely act.
Because I’ve felt so weary lately, any free time that I have had has either been spent reading the aforementioned books or just spent doing absolutely nothing. When I don’t have reading to do or a paper due for school, I just like to zone out, to let my mind turn to mush. I’ve been blaming school for this, but I think it goes deeper.
I am one of those people who does not like facing conflict or difficulty. I will let someone walk all over me before I stand up for myself. I will wait until the very last moment to address a difficult task. When I am my most stressed out or depressed, I crawl into bed and sleep. I escape any way I can.
I am learning, though, that I can’t escape forever. There comes a point when I must face the obstacles and actually deal with them instead of talking about them, writing about them, or reading about them. Reading books on art do me no good unless I attempt to make my own. Reading books on food and nutrition do me no good unless I heed their advice. Reading books on God and faith do me no good unless I also spend some time with God Himself, whether that time is spent through Scripture, prayer, silence, or creativity.
This coming Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent, a time of fasting and cleansing before Easter. Last year was the first year that I observed Lent and it was one of the most intense seasons of my life in many respects. During those days leading up to Easter, I faced some of the worst moments of my life but I also experienced depth in my relationship with God like never before.
There is a quote I read a while ago that I have been thinking about lately, a quote that I think ties into Lent quite well:
“You cannot know that which is most beautiful in yourself unless you are willing to name that which is most hideous.”
–Dan Allender
For me, that is what Lent is all about. It is going inside of yourself and taking inventory. It is a time to focus on what is broken, lost, and wounded. It is a time to see yourself for who you really are, whether that’s selfish, lustful, prideful, or angry. Lent, I think, should be a time of personal mourning, mourning for what we have lost and for what we still need. It should be a time when we see the hideous and call it out, to name it what it is. Lent is a time to fell the weight of sin and to see how it destroys.
But it is also a time to hope. It is a time to remember the resurrection, to remember that the anguish of Good Friday was made right on Easter Sunday. Lent is a time to remember the promise that God will restore us, that He will redeem those who seek Him with all of their hearts. It is a time to know that in spite of our brokenness, wounds, and depravity we are still loved and pursued by our Creator, no matter how long our list of questions is or how self-addicted we have become.
More than anything, Lent is a time to avoid escape. It is a time to start living. I don’t like acting unless I know the outcome. I don’t like certain things unless I know the answers. But life does not often include certainty or answers. What I know and can prove is very little. My focus for this upcoming spiritual season is to focus on who I really am and who I was meant to be. I want to see the hideous but reach for the beautiful. I am convinced that life can be so much more than we often settle for.
The Faith of Me
These past few months have contained some of the most intense moments of my spiritual journey. I have never questioned God more, but at the same time, I have never wanted God more. Sometimes I feel as if I am clinging to the things I say I believe by only a thread. I have so many questions that seem to go unanswered, so many moments when I have asked to feel God’s presence yet haven’t. I have been seeking truth like never before.
Throughout this recent journey, I have begun to realize that I am often quite hypocritical in my approaches to spirituality. I will ask for God’s presence, yet refuse to quiet and humble myself in His. I will ask for forgiveness for a sin I don’t feel all that sorry I’ve committed. I say that I am willing to do anything for Christ, as long as “anything” fits into my own plans.
I am being reminded over and over again that God and the life He offers me isn’t safe. Oftentimes Jesus is portrayed as the safest choice a person could ever make. We so often look at Jesus and talk about what He can give us.
“If you accept Jesus into your heart, you’ll go to heaven.”
“If you’re struggling with something, just pray about it; Jesus will answer your prayers.”
“Don’t worry about life because Jesus has everything all figured out.”
“God will grant you the desires of your heart if you just believe He can.”
On and on the list could go.
The problem that sometimes arises with a list like this is that these things are conditional. If I want to get what I want, I must pray and trust God. If I want to avoid hell, I must ask Jesus to save me. These ideas are true, but I believe they are being thought about in the wrong perspective. That might not seem like such a big deal, but the implications of that perspective can be incredibly damaging.
One of the Church’s (and when I say “Church’s” I am most definitely including myself at the top of that list) deepest flaws is that we have too often made God in our own image.
When God doesn’t provide me with a warm and fuzzy feeling when I ask Him to, I doubt that He’s listening to me at all. When God makes me wait for something I desperately desire, I doubt that I will ever actually receive it and feel sorry for myself. When God seems to reward those I deem guilty and punish those I deem innocent, I question His justice and want my own revenge. Basically, when God does not do what I want Him to the moment I want Him to do it, I get offended, as if God owes me something or has to prove Himself to me as a prerequisite for my faith.
I like itineraries. I like MapQuest. (The ultimate is going on a trip that involves an itinerary AND MapQuest.) I like being in control all the time. One of the reasons I avoid alcohol is because the idea of losing even a little bit of self-control sounds completely unappealing to me. My friends and I laugh about these things, about my obsession with being in charge all the time. But this issue of being in control is incredibly destructive to my so-called faith.
My desire to be in control and know all of the answers has kept me from knowing who God really is. I have been living my life however I wanted to live it, fitting God into my own agenda. I tense up a bit when I read a piece of difficult, convicting Scripture because I want an easy faith, not one that demands total surrender and sacrifice. I try to rationalize the miracles of the Bible sometimes so they make more scientific and logical sense.
The Christian life that I desire is the one that seems to get marketed, the one that so many people seem to have. It is a life that’s safe, a life that centers on a God who is also safe. This God is never angered, answers all of our prayers the way we want Him to, and never offends us. This God leads us to the perfect church where everyone is kind and selfless and where the music suits our own tastes and preferences every single week. A God who is safe, who always does want we want Him to, is a God that’s not worth following. I believe this to be true, but I have so often lived my life as if it weren’t.
The idea of living a life completely surrendered to a Being I can’t see or hear or always feel is terrifying. The idea of trusting this Being to guide my steps and provide my necessities requires a faith I have never possessed.
I believe the true God, the God of the Scriptures, is not at all who we often assume He is. He gets angry and jealous. He offends us. He destroyed the world with a flood. He allows Satan to manipulate His Bride. He does not always pull us out the very moment we feel that we’re drowning. He does not fit into the scope of science. He can never be figured out with logic or a well-crafted argument. He is not safe.
He is all of these things, but He is also love. He is grace. He is redemption, hope, and beauty. He is the provider of every breath we take. He causes our blood to continually flow through our bodies. He hears our laments, our anger, and our rants. He grieves when we grieve. He heals our wounds. He is beyond any thought or word or idea any human could ever possibly construct. We have an idea of what God is like, but the best we can do sometimes is imagine.
Perhaps the most important spiritual question I could ever ask myself is this: Am I shaping God in my own image or allowing myself to be shaped in His?
Still I’m Waiting for the Dawn
Take these shoes
Click-clacking down some dead end street
Take these shoes
And make them fit
Take this shirt
Polyester white-trash made in nowhere
Take this shirt
And make it clean, clean
Take this soul
Stranded in some skin and bones
Take this soul
And make it sing
Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I’m waiting for the dawn
Take these hands
Teach them what to carry
Take these hands
Don’t make a fist
Take this mouth
So quick to criticize
Take this mouth
Give it a kiss
Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I’m waiting for the dawn
Still waiting for the dawn, the sun is coming up
The sun is coming up on the ocean
His love is like a drop in the ocean
His love is like a drop in the ocean
Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, tell me now
Why the dark before the dawn?
Take this city
A city should be shining on a hill
Take this city
If it be your will
What no man can own, no man can take
Take this heart
Take this heart
Take this heart
And make it break
“Yahweh” by U2 from their album How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
This is my current prayer.
A Strange Season
Every Sunday, I check PostSecret. I am always amazed and humbled by what I see there. Yesterday I saw the above postcard and realized that person’s secret is also my own.
These past few months have been a strange season in my life. I feel on the cusp of something, but that something never seems to arrive. More than anything, I have struggled with feeling alone. I do not feel lonely in the “no one loves me” sense; I feel lonely because I have no partner to share my life with.
For the past couple of years, I have stood by and watched friend after friend get engaged and married. Tonight a friend told me she and her boyfriend looked at rings today. As I see my married/engaged friends together or hear their stories, waves of different emotions go through me. I feel happy for their own happiness, happy that those I love so dearly have found people who are good, loyal companions. I feel jealous that I am still very much on my own. I ache when I see hands being held or kisses being given. And then I inevitably feel guilty for feeling such selfish emotions. I want more than anything to be able to rejoice alongside my friends but instead, self-pity and constant fears of abandonment are winning out.
As my time in college is slowly but surely nearing its end, I am beginning to think about what to do after graduation day. I never thought I would have to make this decision alone. When I was younger, I just assumed by now I, like 90% of my friends, would have someone to make that decision with me, someone to be with when my life once again took a turn for change. But instead I am staring out at a future I cannot imagine, a future that seems very frightening and lonely.
As my friends grow in their relationships with their partners, they also grow farther away from me. Though marriage and children do not mean that I lose my friend, it does mean that relationship changes significantly. I am only 21 years old and feel so out of my place in some of my friendships. While some friends are worried about bills, babies, and full-time jobs, I am worried about my reading load this semester. I worry about my next exam. Sometimes, when I am with certain people, I feel as if I am a little kid playing dress-up.
The above postcard resonated so strongly with me because I too struggle to believe there is anyone out there who is looking for me. I see myself as I really am. I know my flaws, my sins, and my selfishness. I know the ugliest pieces of myself and wonder how anyone could ever want me. Because no one ever has before, I struggle to believe I will ever be pursued. This might not be so scary if it weren’t for the loss in closeness with my core group of friends. As they find love, I lose a part of them. Putting my feelings in these terms once again makes me feel guilty; all I can seem to think about is myself. But these past few months have hurt so much because not only do I not have a partner or any real promise of ever being wanted by someone else, but I am also losing touch with people I love and rely on.
Last week I went to a movie with my best friend. We were standing in line after the movie waiting to pay for parking and she was telling me about her boyfriend and how she knows they’ll be engaged shortly. I came home, crawled into bed, and simply cried for a while. I cried because she has what I can’t even fathom. I cried because I know I am slowly losing part of her friendship. I cried because I hated myself for feeling so selfish.
Over the weekend, I had dinner with a different friend. Our waiter spent the entire meal flirting with my friend, never really acknowledging I was even present at the table. I asked for things and never got them, while he offered her things over and over again. We laughed about this, but deep inside it hurt. The deepest cry of my heart is to be beautiful, to be seen as lovely. Instead I seem only to be ignored.
I do not mean to wallow in my own sadness and difficulties. But I am learning lately that I must allow myself to feel. Far too often, I bury my emotions. I bury them because I do not want to deal with some of them. There are certain questions I don’t want to ask, certain moments I don’t want to cry about anymore. This time in my life feels so strange for so many reasons. I don’t normally feel such sadness; I am very much an optimistic, joyful person. But as I have forced myself to fully experience and express my emotions, I feel so stuck in a rut of despair. I have longed so desperately for true community lately, but instead seem to be receiving the opposite.
Not only do I feel guilty for the envy I feel regarding my friends’ relationships, but I also feel guilty because God has not been enough for me. I want to fall in love with Jesus. I want to be one of those people not afraid to do anything for Christ. But I am not there and never have been. I pray frequently that God would either take my desires for romance away or fulfill them quickly. I also pray that He alone would be able to fill my emptiness. Instead of feeling full, I just feel alone in the silence that follows my prayers. As I have struggled to reach for God more and more lately, I have felt that He too is distant and far from me.
There are a lot of things that I need to work on in my life. I need God to repair the wounds that have ripped apart my heart. I need to deal with my shame, sin, and selfishness. I need to stop worrying so much about what steps are next for me. All of this difficult and emotional spiritual work is taking its toll on me. I have no interest in school this semester; I struggle to believe I have what it takes to do well. I have distanced myself from certain people because being around them just reminds me of my aloneness and afterwards I simply hurt. I feel very defeated and weary right now. I have never been this broken for such a long amount of time. I know brokenness ultimately brings about healing, but, just as I am struggling with so much else, I am also struggling to believe that healing is on its way.
I do not believe that meeting someone and falling in love can heal me. No human being is able to heal my wounds and hurts. All I want right now is someone to love me. I too want someone to love, someone to teach me selflessness. I want someone that will force me to risk, someone that will be there for me when I do take chances. I want to know what it’s like to be truly open and vulnerable. I want someone to share art and meals with. I want a constant ally, a constant partner. I long for someone to find me beautiful, even after he has seen all of my flaws. I want someone to hold my hand.
I desperately long for so many things right now. Some things I can do something about, but there is nothing I can do to make a man pursue me. There is nothing I can do to make someone love me. I can only wait. I can only pray. I can only hope there is indeed someone out there in the world who is waiting for me just as I now wait for him.
Love Never Fails
My journey of faith began before I even remember it beginning. I have been privileged enough to grow up in a family who cares about my spiritual well-being, so I have been going to church and hearing about God my entire twenty-one years of life. As a little girl around the age of five, this man named Jesus was especially intriguing. I was told that Jesus, the star of all my Sunday school lessons, could save me from my sins and grant me life forever in heaven; all I had to do was ask him into my heart and then I would become a Christian. In the Sunday school pictures I saw that depicted a very safe, white Jesus, he seemed so kind and wonderful. He loved children and healed the diseased and dying. He was always clothed in white with a glow around his presence. Becoming a Christian seemed like quite a great offer, so I asked Jesus to save me and take away my sins.
As I continued on in my spiritual growth, I began to compile a mental checklist of things that “good Christians” did. A good Christian didn’t swear or drink. A good Christian went to church every week, sometimes two or three times. A good Christian gave time and money, and was willing to go serve in Africa at a moment’s notice. Over the years, I allowed my faith to become based on a legalistic system of good vs. bad. As long as I did enough of the good things, God would be pleased. This is an exhausting way to live one’s life and leads to comparing oneself to other people. It also quenches the beautiful mystery and rich grace that is meant to be Christianity.
I have been learning recently that faith in Christ is not about deeds, words, or actions. Those things are part of faith, all essential parts. But it is so easy to focus on things like this and forget the most basic yet most baffling element of faith, the one reiterated to me over and over again as a little girl in Sunday school: God loves us.
I am amazed at how easy it is to forget about the love of God, how easy it is to avoid accepting it. A relationship based on love does not center on rituals and obligations; a relationship based on love centers on selfless acts of devotion, performed out of a spirit of pleasure and joy. Communication sought because of love does not contain perfunctory clichés and half-hearted mumbles; instead, love-based communication will be based on brutal, gut-wrenching honesty and confession. A person who is consumed with love will not live a life competing with others for the coveted honor of Most Holy; a person consumed with love will live with eyes solely focused upon on the only One who is and can ever be perfect and sovereign.
One of the most well-known and most recognized pieces of Scripture is John 3:16: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” This verse that so many Christians have memorized directly acknowledges the love of God, but how many who know this verse truly believe it, including myself? I believe the reason for so many spiritual struggles within the Church is because we, the consistently pursued Bride of Christ Jesus, forget that we are loved. As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “Love never fails.” Though the Church is called to be perfect, such a calling is impossible. But God, because of his love, has called the sinful and depraved to go on and do great things for his kingdom. People such as King David and the apostle Paul were able to leave such awesome legacies because both men experienced the love of God and lived their lives continually accepting that love.
For years, I have known that God loves me but it is only now that I am fully beginning to understand what that means. God’s love cannot become real and present in my life until I choose to accept it. Accepting the love of God is not a one-time event; it is to be accepted every moment of every day. Accepting God’s love means admitting my failures and letting his grace (not my actions) make me good enough. Accepting God’s love means accepting those who I think don’t deserve it. Accepting God’s love means seeing myself as totally reliant on this big, invisible, mysterious Being who does not need me yet chooses me anyway.
As we as Christians grow and seek more truth and knowledge, may we never forget the foundations of our faith: that we are deeply loved by a holy God who offers us the ultimate redemption that begins here on this earth and climaxes in heaven. As John reminds us, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” The more we accept God’s love, the more we will know him. The more we know him, the more willing we will be to show God’s love to the most corrupt and defiled, or perhaps just to the person sitting the next aisle over Sunday morning.
If This is Only a Test
I could hear the church bells ringing
They pealed aloud your praise
The members faces were smiling
With their hands outstretched to shake
It’s true they did not move me
My heart was hard and tired
Their perfect fire annoyed me
I could not find you anywhereCould someone please tell me the story
Of sinners ransomed from the fall
I still have never seen you
And some days I don’t love you at allThe devoted were wearing bracelets
To remind them why they came
Some concrete motivation
When the abstract could not do the same
But if all that’s left is duty
I’m falling on my sword
At least then I would not serve
An unseen, distant lordIf this is only a test
I hope that I’m passing
Cause I’m losing steam
And I still want to trust youPeace be still
(“Secret of the Easy Yoke” by Pedro the Lion)
David Bazan, the man behind Pedro the Lion, is one of my favorite songwriters. His ability to discuss faith with such a heartbreaking honesty is something I truly admire and strive for in my own writing.I am learning now that this phase I am in, this valley of questioning and doubt, is necessary for me to walk through. For a long time now, I have not allowed myself to sink this far. I have allowed simple clichés to answer some of my questions. Since I was a little girl, I have trusted in God and His sovereignty. I have believed in His truth.
While the foundation of that truth I do not question (things like salvation, redemption, grace), I do have so many other questions that need to be addressed. They do not necessarily have to be answered but I must allow myself to ask them. I am convinced the truth, the ultimate God-ordained truth, can stand up to my poking and prodding.
I have struggled to maintain consistent passion in my spiritual journey these past few years. Looking back now, I have to wonder if maybe that is because I haven’t allowed myself to truly ask the things I’ve wanted to ask God. I have sometimes played the role of the good Christian, but role-playing has no place in Christianity.
I feel such a connection to the above song because there is no role-playing there. It’s harsh, but honest. It’s hard to admit that some days I don’t love God at all, but I must realize that’s true. Love is selfless, patient, and centered on devotion and loyalty. I have been anything but selfless, patient, devoted, and loyal lately. There are days when I have been totally amazed at God and His work; other days I have not been able to sense Him at all, even when I truly sought His glory.
I am convinced that honesty must be my top priority in my relationship with God. He knows my thoughts and my selfishness without me ever confessing. He knows my questions before I have asked them. To attempt to hide my doubts and cynicism from God is to put up a roadblock in the middle of my spiritual path.
I want to be able to be honest with my God. I believe that’s what He wants, also. I believe any healing must begin with honesty and openness. To be vulnerable is difficult for me, but I am realizing more and more it’s an essential part of my journey not just as a Christian, but as a human being.
And I Just Need a Place Now to Begin
I wanna find my way
Find my way back home
I want to learn to love
And I want to be knownCause I want to tell you how
But there’s no good metaphor
Knocking at my doorSo will you help me friend?
Help discover this new world
Don’t quite know where to begin
But I imagine it on the horizonThe light is breakin’ through
Still I don’t know what to do
Standing here just me and youAnd you know that I would run if the wind would call me
And I would rise, but it seems I’m falling
And I just need a place now to begin… to begin
So I can begin againSo do we just start right here
Or go back to the same square one
Isn’t that my biggest fear?
That I’ll miss it when it comesCause I don’t know what to do
Is the Kingdom even breakin’ through?
God, I hope it still is trueCause from everything I see
The biggest problem still seems to be me
And for all the ways the world is shit
There is so much beauty in all of itBut I can’t seem to find
The very thing that haunts my mind
Could it be that I’m still blind?And you know that I would see if you’d wash my eyes
But I keep swallowing the same old lies
And I just need a place now to begin… to begin
So I can begin againIs it true? Or is it fantasy?
What is real? Is it mere chemistry?
And where is home? Some place I can’t be.
Is it true? Or is it just my own delusion?Cause you know that I want to believe you now
But I lost my way somehow
And I just need a place now to begin…To begin to see that I can find my way home, my friend
And I might, but until then, well…
I just need a place now to begin… to begin
So I can begin again(“Begin Again” by The Cobalt Season from their album In Search of a Unified Theory)
If ever there was a theme song for my life the past few months, this would be it. I have felt very lost lately. I have been drowning in doubt, fear, and guilt. Hope has been like sand slowly slipping through my fingers.
I have been struggling to know, see, and feel God. (Of course, I haven’t been trying that hard to know or see or feel…) I have doubted the accuracy and relevance of the Bible. I have struggled to see God as love. I have this image in my mind of an Old Testament-style God who is full of wrath and anger because of my mistakes. It has been hard for me to reconcile this image I have of an angry, vengeful God with the image I have of a God full of grace and love. I don’t understand how the two meet, how they exist in one Being. I believe God is there. I do not doubt his existence or his hand in creation. But I do struggle to believe, especially now, that he loves me and finds me valuable.
I have also been feeling quite brokenhearted recently. I have stood by and watched friend after friend enter into relationships, get engaged, and get married these past few years. I am still single. I have never been fought for or pursued. I have heard story after story of my friends’ respective happiness. I have heard about cute things partners have done. I have witnessed handholds, gazes, and kisses. But I have been only a witness, never a participant. It is difficult to feel valuable as a woman when I feel that no one sees me as such. I still feel like a little girl playing dress up whose friends have suddenly outgrown the game and are moving on to reality.
I feel extremely guilty for these struggles. I feel guilt for doubting the God who has blessed me with so much. I feel guilty for doubting Scripture, but the whole “The Bible says it so I believe it” line just won’t work for me anymore. I feel guilty for wanting some sort of proof.
I feel guilty for not being able to put aside my own emotions and simply rejoice alongside my friends who know God-ordained love. I feel ashamed that I have never known it, that no one has ever invited me into it.
I am fearful of so much, mostly ending up abandoned and alone. I am still so young, but I struggle to believe that my future will contain happiness and fulfillment. Sometimes I worry that God does not care about my happiness, only about my righteousness.
One reason I feel so guilty about all of these various emotions is because I am so richly blessed. I have never known true need. I have an abundance of food, clothing, and “stuff.” I have a group of wonderful, loving friends. I have a family who loves and adores me. I have so, so much. But there is still so much I long for.
As I sat down and allowed myself to feel these feelings, to think through them, I realized that I don’t see myself as others probably do. I don’t consider myself worthy of God’s love or forgiveness. I don’t look at who I am and see anything special or unique, anything that only I possess. I know these feelings are not from God. I know they are not from circumstances in my life. I know many of these thoughts are from Satan, a force I rarely consider. But they feel very real. The anxiety they bring is painful.
I do want to begin again. I want to learn how to see the truth and trust in it without evidence. I want to rejoice with those in my life who deserve joy and love. I want to be able to see myself as God sees me. I want to be able to live as a Christian without feeling like a failure every single day.
I want so much. And even in some of these wants, there is guilt.
Guilt that I am not satisfied already. Guilt that I dare ask for anything when so many people in the world have nothing. Guilt that I just can’t seem to understand what faith really means.
I want desperately to be fixed, to be whole. I know that only God can cause these things to happen, but I have prayed and sought answers for these wounds before and here I am, still aching.
I feel as if I am in the middle of a dense fog.
I read a quote by Dan Allender a while ago and it struck a chord in me:
“You cannot know that which is most beautiful in yourself unless you are willing to name that which is most hideous.”
I want to find the beautiful in my life and in the way I view myself and love. I can name many hideous aspects of my life, things rooted in nothing more than self-addiction. I cannot just ignore these ugly spaces inside myself; I must admit them and confess them. I must learn how to rest in my brokenness, in this present ache.
I must learn how to rest.
There another song besides the one above that I’ve had on repeat lately. It’s “Tension is a Passing Note” by Sixpence None the Richer. Part of the song says this:
But tension is to be loved
When it is like a passing note
To a beautiful, beautiful chord
It is my hope that I am not just standing on a cliff, diving down into sadness and despair. It is my hope that I am just in a valley right now, ready to ascend to a place I have never been, to see a view I have never before witnessed.
I feel so broken. Ironically, I cannot seem to hope in anything but that brokenness. Perhaps it is my brokenness that will ultimately be necessary for my eventual healing. Perhaps Sixpence is right and beauty is on its way. I am just waiting for the fog to lift, unsure of what else to do.
