Hello Again

I know I haven't written here in so long. I don't know if anyone even remembers this part of my life. The part where I could speak painful truths and admit to being human. I have forgotten my humanity in the past few months. I have neglected my fragility. I have refused to believe that I can do nothing without You and I don't know if I am ready to face the honest moment where I admit I am nothing. I am nothing.

The acceptance of my nothingness once brought me so much freedom. The ability to say I am only human gave me the ability to forgive all my own faults, and the faults of others. But I have been so caught up in my own becoming, that my life has been reduced to nothing more than lists of things I need to do but don't have time to complete.

I am too tired. My heart is worn thin by all the giving and taking, the swaying of life from good to bad, the emotional roller coaster of forever balancing the words,"I'm fine" with the deep painful truth that I know I am not. It hurts. It hurts to know I am not what everyone wants me to be.

It hurts to know I will never meet the expectations of the ones I used to follow so religiously, and it's embarrassing to think that I ever did that. Why did I do that? Why did I think that following others was better than following You?

I remember the moment You kissed my heart. I remember the effortless feeling of falling for something I knew would always catch me. My safety net, my home plate, my secret hiding place. I have left You in an attempt to find myself. I let go of your hand and picked up the habits I swore I'd never have. I am a hypocrite.

But I can't say that it was for nothing. I know this journey is to bring me back to you, someday, somehow. I know you're still holding me, even if it's only splintered parts of me. You haven't left.

I ride to school some mornings and long to hear you, so I put on the songs we used to sing together. I remember singing them with others and I don't know why that doesn't happen anymore. I remember loving our family. Now I am only hurt by them. Daddy, my siblings hate me. That's exactly how this feels. Daddy, make them stop.

I was so angry. But that anger just exhausted me, so I forgave them. But that forgiveness doesn't heal the hurt, the bleeding, the aching, the screaming of my bones that I am still me. I am still yours. I am still human. The forgiveness doesn't change the fact that I am so scarred. My trust is broken. How do we fix that?

I need assurance that I'm still moving towards you. I need to know you still see me. I need you to expect nothing from me, because the expectations of this world have me hanging by a noose of failure and I know I cannot be who they want. I know I'm not meant to be. But in losing them, I feel as though I've lost you too, because they were my road map, my streetlights to finding Home with you. They were the ones who led me to the love we used to have...

I didn't mean to leave, Abba. I just couldn't breathe in the polluted air of their judgmental stares. I couldn't see you through their arrogance. I have blamed you for their humanity, I have left you because they said they knew you, and I didn't want to know the God they represented. I didn't want to know a God who couldn't love me.

I know you love me though...

So please... if you're still listening... will you send me another bird? Will you send me another street light? Can you send me another gentle word to show me I'm not alone? Tell me spring is coming, and we're going to our garden.

The God of Inconvenience?

It's becoming more apparent that Your painful truths and heart wrenching wisdom are becoming the motivation and joy of my life. I remember praying earnestly with them for You to show up and do something amazing. I remember asking to be used for Your glory and hoping for miracles. But while they were so excited for what You might do, I was the only one, it seemed, who asked You how it could be done.

In pain. In inconvenience. In sacrifice. In letting my plans and schedules fall into the fire.

He talked about living in Your will this week. And it reminded me. The truth is I haven't given it much thought lately, and I've been missing You. But You've been showing up all over the place, Love. In each bird You send me. In a German flag on the car in front of mine. In opportunities I might otherwise pass up with excuses if I didn't feel You leading me.

I looked at her brokenness and saw myself all those months ago. I looked at her anger and frustration and it was like looking into a mirror of the past. I let her scream and fight with those she loved because I knew it was what she needed at the moment- to be angry. I didn't let her apologize for being human, just like the light You sent my way didn't let me. And during that drive I found You riding next to me, between us. And You told me to pay attention. And I noticed.

There have been intricate doorways carved in places I overlooked; stepping stones to get to this moment that I didn't realize I was walking on. In the sea of apathy, You gave me dry land of silent understanding and simple notice. Those steps led Us to speak to something so much deeper than her circumstances of this week.

I realized something. You set me up. But it was a setup I could only welcome with open hands and a prayerful heart.

I'm grateful for Your grace, Daddy. I'm thankful that You show up in the strangest places during our most unhappy circumstances. I'm happy to be inconvenienced for Your glory, Love.

The Purpose of Grace

I have trouble accepting that all people are different. The way we speak, learn, prioritize, communicate, feel love... No two people are alike. The things that hurt us, the things that move us, what makes us feel inspired- it's different for each of us. This is why grace is so important, and I feel myself forgetting it. I'm impatient; I become so frustrated because I've failed to communicate well. In my inability to communicate in love, I cause pain for those I love. I feel anger in myself. I can't change them. I must change my desire for them to be like me. I need to learn the art of graceful speaking. I'm too busy trying to make them just like me, that I miss out on the beauty of who they are, who you've made them to be, Love. I am so caught up on the need to be understood, that I misunderstand them. And the misunderstandings lead to conflict, and the conflict leads to bitterness, and that bitterness becomes a divide I never intended. The variety you've surrounded me with is astounding. The diversity in all my world is a sign of how awesome you are. You were first a creator, I can't forget that. And your creative spirit is all around me, but I reject it. I'm sorry that I've let this contradiction surface. I like to believe I love your creation in its entirety. I like to believe that I love the different people I encounter daily. But can I call myself a lover of those I try so desperately to change? I am selfish. Because my purpose has not been to see them change so they can be closer to you. My intentions- as subconscious as they might be- has been to change them so that I can be more comfortable. Why do I ache so badly for comfort? I reflect on your 40 days in the wilderness, I recall that you had no place to lay your head, I envision your prayer in the garden, and I cry at the memory of you nailed to a cross... I am reminded that you never sought comfortable. You sought change at the expense of being inconvenienced. You sought the redemption of others by being offered up in brokenness. Who am I that I should expect something easy and simple? Who am I to demand that others be as I wish them to be? I am nothing. I am dirt, and I only exist because you've given grace for me to do so. I want to be compassionate, but it only comes by dying to my will. Only in wanting nothing can I have everything I truly need. I want to appreciate them, but that only comes in loving who they already are. Please forgive me of my foolish attempt to make us all the same. 

Abstraction Along the Alster

It's been so long since I've given you time... Time to break me, change me, or cause me to question. I have so many decisions to make... but they're all meaningless without you. Only a crazy person would sit in this cold to write. But maybe I'm just crazy enough to think you'll meet me here in the snow and ice. Maybe I'm crazy enough to believe that what we had can be recovered. Maybe I'm hoping you'll meet me where the outside finally matches the inside. Maybe I hope in this crazy numbness you'll help me feel again.

This city is beautiful. The language is a mystery. The people are broken... but none of that has come to mind in three days. I've neglected to ask you what you want. That's why I'm losing myself here instead of finding you. She said a part of her still loves me, but I'm not the girl she remembers. I can't be that girl again though. I am different because of you. That's all I know. And to go back to the girl she loved would be turning my back on you. I'm going to lose her. I have become aware of that. But it breaks me.

Getting lost in a place like this is comforting. I feel like it gives the opportunity to ponder, to reflect. When the snow falls around me, there's something mystical about it. Like maybe living a little lost is okay. I've never felt like an outsider. I remember that conversation we had about what it means to be a citizen of Heaven; how not belonging to this world is supposed to make me so different. I've always lived my life trying to fit in, meet expectations, fill a certain role... here, I have no role. I am only a wanderer. a foreigner, getting lost in foreign phrases and letting instinct take me where it wills. This is how it should feel at home; this is what you're teaching me.

I didn't know where I was going today but I managed to find where I needed to be. The perfect metaphor of my life- always going and never knowing, yet somehow figuring it out. You sent me another bird, a reminder that I am going where I should. A bird to tell me it's okay to let go, to let you take control.  In the midst of all of this discovery, broken glass still lays around me. Shattered pieces of things long forgotten, dreams released into the frigid wind. And somehow I'm not afraid of being pierced and left bleeding. You're calling me back, and effortlessly, parts of me are returning. But parts of me are clinging still to a love long gone that I can't say goodbye to. I am torn and worn out, but ultimately I know what I need to do. Will I, though?

You told me I would come here long before the opportunity came. And you intricately carved doorways in the abyss of yesterday. I followed what I felt was you when everyone else said I was wrong. But I know I've done things wrong to get here. How do I do what's right when it feels wrong? How do I accept inevitable pain to bring about what you've planned for me? How do I suffer well while no one else appears to suffer? Can I trust you with the pain of dying again?

Deutschland- my dream from you. To see bar rooms emptied and churches full, to see Bibles in the hands of students instead of cigarettes. To find truth for a nation that sparked so much change in your kingdom. Am I willing to be revolutionary? Do I love Germany with your heart or only mine? What is the difference?

I need you to change my perspective of loss, of being lost, of losing. Teach me to trust that you're not taking anything from me, but that you're giving me the chance to make room for something better. Show me that this is one way you love me. I need to know I'm not alone right now.

3/26/13

Make a Mess of Reality

I'm afraid our world has forgotten grace. Whispers, stares, and crooked looks- why can't we learn love? We all carry our past in bags sealed so tightly. Our stories are shoved in boxes placed on shelves we never dust off. We hide our realities from those we encounter daily... We plaster on smiles, and force ourselves to conform to what "they" tell us is appropriate. What if we decided to be honest? What if we decided vulnerability was admirable? What if tears were as commonly shared as laughter? What if we let ourselves unpack a little and let ourselves be real? I want to know your story. I want to love your story. I don't understand where we learn to judge so readily. Our world assumes, it never asks questions. It hastens to conclusions before the plot unfolds. Tell me a story, tell it from the beginning. And don't leave out the parts you're so afraid for this world to see. Because those are the parts that led you here, that made you who you are. No one can know light if they haven't been trapped in darkness. No one can know freedom without first being chained. It's pain that teaches us what joy is. It's brokenness that leads us to appreciate restoration. I don't want to only know the glory of today. I want to know the fragile pieces that made yesterday worth leaving behind. We all have stories. We all know heartache. We all know what it means to be human. But we live in a world that refuses to forgive us of our humanity. Can we forgive each other of being mortal and move past these masks we wear? Can we love each other enough to make peace of messy truths, instead of respecting each other too much to ask questions that could encourage us to reflect? I want to make a mess of reality.