grace packaging

I asked for a glass of ice and she handed it to me in a hot, freshly washed coffee mug. The ice was quickly melting, giving me something to drink while chomp chomp chomping. I love ice.

I sat down to write and every time I reached for my mug it would warm my hand so that the ice cold water would surprise my lips and teeth.

(I know. I know. You just never know what I might talk about when you come here...bear with me...I kind of know where this is going. Sort of.)

The contrast of the cup and the ice got me thinking about how two things can be really different and both be good, maybe for different reasons to different people. For the longest time I've been fighting to believe that certain things make me uncomfortable because they should. Like I'm a warm glass and they are ice cubes packed up high to my top, cooling me down when I don't want to be cooled, changing me from the very thing I am and its out of my control. I mean, if you're all warm and cozy, the last thing you need is a bunch of ice...you get the idea.

Maybe.

Let me give you an example. I'm a Christian, right? But I feel like I'm constantly explaining, to people (who are new to my life anyway), that I'm not very stereotypical in my faith. I don't have a Jesus fish on my car, I've never owned a WWJD bracelet, and overall I'm not very conservative. My entire life, the Christian bubbles I floated through were places that felt pretty foreign to me, and over time I took that to mean there was something wrong with me. What I've come to learn over the years is that it isn't about me being wrong or that particular "brand" of Christianity being wrong, but rather, maybe I'm just simply not all that Evangelical.

The foundation of my beliefs at their core are definitely Christian, and for that I'm not the least bit ashamed. It's just that I continue to try to reconcile those beliefs with how things are in the Evangelical Christian world of today and I can never do it. So often, not much of it makes sense to me. So often, Christians create their own version of something good by adding or subtracting
to align their religion with their opinions. I've never been good at swallowing that, and I've even been known to rant on and on and on about how much I don't like it.

There are still many many things to get angry about. I guess I'm just finally ready to not take on those things like it's entirely up to me to scream until it's fixed. I don't like it one bit that large Christian events like the one I attended last weekend are overly commercialized, filled with excess beyond t-shirts and coffee mugs and into "get your own platinum card with our logo!" I don't like it that the speakers at this Christian event had "a person," each of them, "a person," to follow them and take care of them and parade them to their seats for security's sake. And I don't have to like that there was a garbage between each of their chairs, just two or three feet from the next one, the chairs and the garbages all in a row facing a flat screen television that sat directly in front of the stage where what could be seen on the TV could be seen in real life, simultaneously, one right on top of the other.

There were so many flat screen televisions, surrounding the base of the center-of-the-arena-circular stage, up high, down low, off to the sides, next to the beautiful glass panes that made a fence-like structure for the speakers with its glowing logo on every pane. A glowing logo that changed colors on a timer, mesmerizing my already easily distracted self.

It was done up big, yo.

And it made me itchy. Because I know far too well the places that money could go, if this event were stripped down and simplified. I know how much money would be left for those places where it's needed most if at least some of the excess was stripped away. For me, so often, sitting in the midst of all of it felt like ice in a hot cup.

I was trying to reconcile the good things of grace that I was experiencing with the logo and the products and the TV's. It was like I could feel the clashing of opposites in my soul and in the air.

Feed the hungry! Get your platinum credit card!
God's grace is for you and he loves you! Get your tote or coffee mug!

And then it hit me, as I sat right there in that chair feeling overstimulated and confused. I remembered the comment I received on the EO recently, the one that expressed frustration at watching my journey turn into what it has. How I'm traveling so much and having all of these opportunities come up and I thought Is this what I look like now? Am I doing it up big? Are my readers sitting there trying to read my heart and feeling blinded by my speaking and traveling and the writing of a book?

It hurt to think that, to not know what to do or to have all the answers for how to do this right. Because the last thing I want is to ask you to apply for a platinum card with EO on it, so to speak.

I never imagined any of the things that are happening, you know? I didn't sign up for this, and still it just happened at the same time as I guess I made it happen, by putting myself out there so...much.

~~~~~

The morning I attended this very large event in the very large place with the very many people and very many lights and TVs and myriad of things for sale, I went to Target, hurriedly and over-tired. It was early and I'd been up most of the night and I wanted me a Dr. Pepper. I was very focused on the Dr. Pepper. The store had just opened recently and I was the only person walking in, very few cars in the parking lot. A young man came through the automatic door as I walked up and he seemed to be walking directly for me, so I looked up to meet his eyes, his eyes with a little glint in them. He asked me how I was and I said fine and asked him how he was. He reached out his hand and I knew this was the moment when I was supposed to question what he wanted and whether or not I would say yes or no, to help without suspicion or to sheepishly decline with an excuse because my gut was telling me no. But none of that was happening, I just felt peaceful. I reached out and felt the shape of a card, one that had a receipt wrapped around it, one that was being handed to me. He was saying I got what I needed and there's a little bit left on that gift card so I thought I would give it to you...it's not much, but maybe you can use it toward your purchase.

I walked away calling thank yous over my shoulder and fighting back over-tired and touched with emotion tears.

What a guy.

It was simple. No one was around to see it. He was fighting back a very proud smile. He was humble about all of it and this small thing changed me.

There was $2.02 on that card. More than enough for a Dr. Pepper fountain soda with lots of ice for chomping.

This experience was completely stripped of excess and just as powerful as the changing lights and booming sounds and big names of the conference I was about to attend. A conference that would end up leaving me changed just as the man in the parking lot had. Because people stood up on that stage and they told their truths, their stories, and especially when adoption was spoken of, I was rocked to my core.

So. I guess I'm more comfortable with the small things, the extraordinary things that happen in my small day-to-day life. They fit me. And yet there is something God can do with anything, anything, even things that can feel a bit inauthentic on the surface, overdone and commercialized. I don't know how this particular popular Christian event took this course. I can't judge its journey to survive and thrive. I don't know if all the money that's made is going to help the poor and the hungry, the fatherless and the widow, and maybe it is. I don't know. All I know is that it made me care more deeply about the orphans of this world, because of its fine choices for musical guests and speakers, people who are not thinking of themselves as people who need their own "person" to escort them everywhere, but people who adopt and serve and love and talk about it.

I could be wrong, but I highly doubt that the intention of creators of this event is to get rich quick. Most likely they just want to help, like my friend in the Target lot, and like me.

I don't know what's going to happen next, but I do know that I'm more of a warm cup than an ice cube. And when ice cubes make me uncomfortable, maybe it's not so bad to endure the clashing I feel inside to experience something I may not fully understand but God is certainly always using. He's much bigger than opposite clashing temperatures, in my opinion. He will use me big or small because it's true what they say...he does not send those who are equipped...he equips those he sends.

I guess what I'm saying is that sometimes I may think it's horrible to add ice, but maybe I need to realize that as it melts, I can get at least one drink out of it. A drink from a place I wouldn't expect to find quenching. Those are everywhere and in every form.

Grace is a mysterious and tricky chameleon, and I love it.

~~~~~

This post is a part of 31 Days of Grace at Chatting at the Sky.

what matters most to you?

I've been having an email conversation with a friend. She's known all her life that she's gay. She has fought this all of her life. She is preparing to tell her truth and to therefore be disowned by her family. She is ready to be honest.

My response to her?

I love you. I'm sorry you're hurting.

The End.

I just finished watching the conversation between Jennifer Knapp (a Christian artist and a lesbian) and Pastor Bob Botsford on Larry King Live. It left me itchy. Whatever your beliefs about homosexuality, I'm confused at what point a person finds themselves the authority, the one to say, Choose between Christianity and your sexuality.

I'm a Christian, and I know this is a hot button issue in my faith community. Sometimes I'm just not so sure why we're even talking about it. Why are we so focused on it? As Christians, what "should" we be focusing on?

Derek Webb asks some good questions...
(if you don't like swears, don't watch it)

As usual I love the point that's made through this song, that we're so focused on the wrong things. Please tell me, if a person is expending their little left-over energy on another person's moral choices, how do they have room for the sick and the poor and the orphan and the widow?

Sometimes I wish we all could sit together the exact same way we alcoholics sit together. If we did, I'm certain we'd have no room in our hearts for judging lifestyles. Those hearts would be so filled with the power of mercy and a holy redemptive freedom, we would go mute. There would be a lull in the crowd, mouths agape, standing in awe of love. We would see each other the way Christ sees us and the words that follow the pointed finger would be held captive by grace.

I guess this makes me a grateful alcoholic who fully admits she doesn't have all the answers, and is too busy learning to love and be loved to pass my time digging around in the lives of others in an effort to be right out of fear.

I want to transcend, to rise above all of this. I really do. To be a friend to my friend, and that is all.

Pastor Bob says that "sin is not ruling my(his) life," and that Jennifer is "not allowing Jesus Christ to reign over her life."

This is what gets me. Those very words. Those beliefs. It hurts. I hurt for my friend and I hurt for me. Because had people known about my addiction and had they told me, "Sin is ruling your life Heather"...I highly doubt it would have helped me, even if they were right to some degree, a degree I can't claim to fully understand. It would have left me hurting, even if they added, I tell you this because I love you.

I'm pretty sure my heart's response would have been something like, Okay. Now what am I allowed to tell you? Should I point out the way you believe you hold some higher authority, some right to point fingers? Have you ascended beyond having sin rule over your life? What are you not seeing about yourself if can say such things? Unless you can honestly say you're perfect, it's very difficult to find the dividing line between the sin-ruled life and the life Jesus reigns in.

If a man walks into a meeting with fellow alcoholics and says that he's relapsed and cannot stop. If he smells of whiskey with a touch of red wine, what happens?

Open arms, friends. Open arms. We're glad you're here today. That is the only response. And that is why the room is safe and holy, life-giving and life-changing. The change will come. After love.

I can't claim to know if homosexuality is a choice or a sin...I can't. I can't spend my energy looking over the arguments on both sides, arguments that both hold valid points and believable research. I don't think that's what I'm here to do. My friend's journey is her own, as is mine, and I simply love her for being her.

I just needed to get that off my chest.

The truth is, most Christians think alcoholism is a choice

When I say that alcoholism is a disease, I'm often met with the same response from Christians,

Well... kind of.

Family, friends, professionals, it doesn't matter,

Well...kind of.

The commonality among people who have said this to me? They are not alcoholics.

I do understand why Christians struggle to understand alcoholism. As believers in the Bible, what comes to mind for them is "do not become drunk on wine..."

~~~~~

As a Christian and an alcoholic, I struggle with this mentality. I don't want to become angry or resentful, I just hope that I can help people understand, even if my effort here falls on many a deaf ear, I guess I just need to say what I need to say and then let it go.

I don't want to argue, but I do want to talk about this.

The way alcoholism is approached in most Christian circles is truly damaging. There is already so much shame in the mind and heart of the alcoholic, so to hear the message that this disease is a sin and a choice only compounds those feelings and therefore hurts rather than helps.

I'm writing about this today because I heard a pastor speak last night and it left me hurting, sad, frustrated....

The pastor was invited to speak to a group of alcoholics, to encourage and enlighten. I respect this man and truly appreciate him for having the courage to stand up and talk to people he may not fully understand. I believe he was nervous and uninformed, so this isn't about blame or judgment. This is about a deep desire in my heart to prevent my fellows from being hurt in the way they were last night. That's all it is.

To make a long story short, what I heard last night was that I've made my bed and it's going to be difficult, but now I have to lie in it and I should remember to love everyone, even the most unlovable, because well, look at me-God loves even me, so I should pass that on. I heard that I made a choice to be an alcoholic and that it's only because I grew up with bad examples (not true). And Jesus fed the multitudes with a few fish and a loaf of bread because he felt sorry for the people even though he was busy, and so He must love me, too. Even me.

Now, before I receive comments that tell me that my drinking was sinful, I want to be clear. Yes. I drank. I chose to take that first drink all those years ago, at a legal age, just as many other people do and then go on to never struggle with drunkenness or addiction.

But for me, that one drink never stopped. I am an alcoholic. I have a disease, and therefore, my drinking snow-balled all on its own. Please trust me if you can. I consistently found myself unable to control the amount I consumed and completely unable to control my ruminating thoughts about drinking. For so many years, I thought this had to do with me, as a person, that I was more flawed, lazy, lacking self-control. I couldn't understand what was happening. I had heard my entire life that alcoholism is not a disease. So, my conclusion was that I was simply failing, and then failing, and then failing again. It wasn't until I learned MUCH about the physiological aspects of this disease that I finally could get real help that made it possible for me to stop. I absolutely could not stop without starting a rigid program of recovery. That, my friends, is a disease.

So I look at what this man said last night and I roll it over in my hand like a stone and I feel it, I just let myself see it and feel it, and then I have no choice but to forgive it, tossing that sad stone away, over and over.

I guess what I'm asking here is this: When considering your beliefs about alcoholism, please know your unknown. Please know you can't judge something you have not experienced.

I heard this little ditty in treatment: The truth needs no defenders.

The truth, it stands on its own no matter what. It just is. Like alcoholism, it just is. Like redemption, it just is. None of those three things can be changed by our will, but there they are.

No matter what I do, I'm an alcoholic. And no matter what I do, I am redeemed. And no matter what I do, that's the truth.

In the end, no matter what anyone thinks of me, I know that alcoholism found me so I could find true freedom. And because of this disease, I have the gift of knowing more about unconditional love than I could have learned any other way. I'm grateful, and I will not be angry about these uninformed opinions of me, because I cannot afford to have this gift stolen.



"Alcoholism is a physiological disease with spiritual consequences."-Father Martin

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Peace.

Myself Less

I stole this quote from my friend Jessica at One Wild and Precious Life...

“The Christian gospel is that I am so flawed that Jesus had to die for me, yet I am so loved and valued that Jesus was glad to die for me. This leads to deep humility and deep confidence at the same time. It undermines both swaggering and sniveling. I cannot feel superior to anyone, and yet I have nothing to prove to anyone. I do not think more of myself nor less of myself. Instead, I think of myself less.” -Tim Keller, The Reason for God (emphasis mine)

I just love that.

That's all.

Last Sunday and it's seven numbers

"Cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything that is written in the book of law."
Galatians 3:10

I start to get angry. Then I stop. I take a deep breath and grab a pen and write my thoughts. I listen to the sermon. I look up, I look around, and the words just keep coming so I write them down in response to the listening. No one else is looking around. It's like they're scared to be seen while they hear about their complete and total depravity from the pulpit.

I want to stand up and say STOP please stop, where is the redemption, where is the grace, where is the healing...

Because so often, in so many congregations and so many denominations, it is left at this:
1) you are nothing but depraved
2) God hates sin
3) you are hiding your secret sins
4) God can see your sin
5) God hates your sin
6) stop sinning
7) the end

It's dangerous, I think. If we leave it at that, what are we leaving out? And maybe even more importantly, what are we adding in?

I've listened to more sermons than I can count that followed the numbered steps above, and only those numbers. So at some point in my life, I started to believe I was nothing but bad and that God could not possibly want anything to do with me. I don't think that's just me, partially because I have many people in my life who tell my same story.

When we hear something that's left at the end over and over, we fill in the blanks with a whole lot of shame, shame that leaves us stuck in our pits, afraid to look up, to be found out. It leaves us alone.

When I began to face my internal beliefs, things deeply rooted through years of words like those from Sunday, I saw that the complete focus on sin had back-fired. Because if I believe that is all that I am, I live out that which I think I am. Failure, ugly, shameful, unworthy...

dangerous things to live out.

I don't want to live there. I want to live in the freedom that Christ came to bring for this life and the next. I want to love because He loves me like mad. I want to try because He loves me like mad. I want to stand up and say NO, that is not who I am, THIS is who I am, and then I want to live that out.

I don't want to focus on me and fixing me and then focus some more on me and what I'm getting right and what I'm getting wrong.... That leaves no room for living out my faith in the world around me because I'm never thinking about them.

But how do I do that if someone is telling me sin is all that I am?

It seems that many Christian leaders are afraid that we'll forget the seven numbers. Maybe some people do forget, and of course there are some that have never heard the gospel message. But for the most part, I think we already know. Let's face it, most preachers are preaching to a congregation that is mostly Christian. There aren't many non-Christians who find the church appealing.

As one of those Christians sitting in church, longing to be fed some life, I am already fully aware of the seven numbers because I'm the one wading through my own troubled mind and life just like the rest of the world. Of course, I may now and again need a good bonk over the head, reminding me that I've got a long way to go, but for the most part I'm keenly aware of that long way on a daily basis.

What I'm looking for is teaching that reminds me I can do all things through Christ because He loves me the way that He does, and then I want to live the joy that revelation brings.

Because you know what?

If I do that, if I really GET that love...all the other stuff, the shameful horrible stuff we're focusing on, will fall away in it's time.

the end

I wanted so badly for this sermon to end differently. (and to be fair, it's a four part series, so maybe it will end differently, I hope.) But it didn't on Sunday. It ended with the end.

I wanted to walk to the front and grab the microphone. I wanted to add what I think He would say to me...

8) I'll never let you go
9) I'm crazy about you
10) there is no the end to that.

"Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us."
Galatians 3:13

I want to believe that fully, and then love other people with that kind of love...

(I wanted to share a video here because it says what I'm trying to say, but embedding it on a blog is not a possibility. You can still check it out on YouTube: How He Loves by David Crowder. Thank you.)

Red Light, Green Light

Sunday~ October 4, 2009



The other day I was sitting at a stop light, fingers drumming the steering wheel, leg bouncing. The boys were being watched by a neighbor that I was anxious to relieve, and the light seemed extra long. Well, it actually was quite long because it's that light. The light that seems broken, leaving a person to sit in a row of thirty cars, only ten of which will be the lucky ones to make it through the next small chance at conquering the intersection.

The light finally turned green and I inched forward, small jerking movements, attempts at teleporting myself through the sea of bumpers in front of me, hoping hoping hoping c'mon c'mon c'mon I need to make it...

There were still ten cars ahead of me when the light turned red again. UUUGH!

Just moments after we were beckoned to go, we were stopped again.

Well! Just kidding, I said to myself, sighing and settling in for some more wandering thoughts while staring at red. I shut down, zoned out, gave up. Fine, I'm never going to make it.

I laughed at my grumptified self a little then and started to think about how life is a lot like waiting at a stop light. How I'll be chomping at the bit to do something, to change something, to make something happen. I'll be motivated and ambitious and ready, tap-tap-tapping at the gas, revving my engine. I'll see just what I want on the horizon, my hopes will rise with the green light of a seemingly obvious answer, and then...

Yellow light.

Oh no, I'm not going to make it. Why are there so many people ahead of me? Why can't I be up there with them? I need to go now!

Anxiety. Impatience. Discontent.

Red light.


I thought about this again today as I drove the two hours back from my parent's house. We weren't stuck in traffic, we were on the freeway, moving along without a hitch. I thought about how often that's the case in my life, this fast moving pace filled with only small problems like a sticky steering wheel and the annoyance of stopping for gas.

But I still have a tendency to get focused on the times I'm given the signal to wait. I shut down, zone out, give up. So quickly.

He's not sleeping through the night (whine stomp) When will I ever have time for me (fingers drum the steering wheel) When in the world will they sleep past 6 in the morning, I'm so tired (leg bouncing let's go let's go let's go) Look! I think I saw God open a door! (concentrating hard to teleport myself through bumpers) I really want to move, WHY can't we sell our house? (more whining and stomping)

In those times, I'm only thinking about me, how I should be the first one to go when the light turns green, how I should never have to wait.

But today as I drove, though I may have learned the lesson a thousand times, it hit me full force...

There are drivers around me who are truly suffering, they are stuck in a line of traffic much longer than thirty cars at a light that never turns green. I have been in their shoes. I know how it feels, and I know what got me through the worst kind of traffic jams. Other drivers, ones who weren't so self-obsessed that they passed on the right and kept going. They were the kind of drivers that looked out for me, those were the people that got me through. Grace people.

Some of the hurting commuters are in my life and I love them, and now I want (and need) to pull up alongside them, get out of my car, and climb in their passenger seats. Or drive. Or sing. Or tell a funny story. Or just sit. Whatever they need, I want to do it. I want to do what has been done for me. Whatever the cost is to my valuable time, I want to be there, doing.

When I forget myself, I'm not irritated by things like traffic lights. I'm much lighter, with less nail biting and leg bouncing. Suddenly, all those distant open doors and hopes off on the horizon are right there with me, in a much better form than I'd imagined.

It's good, getting what you needed instead of what you thought you wanted, because you gave of yourself.

Green light.


(photos courtesy of flickr)

I'm going to have to hug her...

Amidst the overstuffed boxes of memories sat a stack of notebooks, the kind I started to use as journals or for school and then somehow quit. The first couple of pages were scrawled with words I can't remember writing, and then nothing, page after page of empty.

I set them aside and continued to pour over things I've kept over the years. I knew I was taking a risk, leafing through notes from a first love, scanning cards and letters from family and friends, staring long at pictures of a girl I hardly know, and yet know all too well.

With a pit in my stomach and a lump in my throat I asked myself why walking down memory lane is so painful for me. I realize that traumatizing things did happen in my more youthful years, some brought on by me and some brought on me. But it seems like other people can look back and say Water under the bridge, no big deal, I was young and that's over now. Live and learn. Move on.

Not me. Starting at a young age, I did take a whole lot of detours, creating pot holes of pain all over my memory lane, and I haven't really been able to let it go even though I know it all serves it's purpose in making me...me. And I'm okay with me...now. Mostly.

But it's still as if I made a choice to attach my past to my ankle and drag it around as some sort of punishment. Which ironically, leaves me living in many of the same behaviors that bring me that feeling in the pit of my stomach, the one that seems so big, I'm terrified it won't ever go away, that pit that leaves me depressed and impatient and distant.

Because it's attached to my leg, the past always seems very close, pulling me from the here and now and leaving me back there, somewhere very lonely, since everyone else seems to have left it all behind, moved on...grown up.

Here I am, 34 years old, stomping my foot and begging God to work some kind of miracle in me, one that would change me, making me more peaceful and less moody, more joyful and less melancholy. Like yesterday, after a particularly difficult road trip with the boys in which I totally lost my cool, I actually resorted to begging God to hurry up and zap me, change me with that instant miracle I've been waiting on my whole life. But He didn't.

(What He did choose to do that very moment was to paint a rainbow across the sky. That was nice, and it did bring me some tears of relief, thinking on how He does still keep promises, but I still wanted to be zapped.) (Just saying.)

Then today I talked with a friend who could be me if we were allowed to share the same body. I told her about the notebooks, the ones filled with things I feel like I'm still saying all these years later, and the ones that are mostly empty. I joked about how those notebooks are a great analogy for my life. How I've wasted so many chapters on what seems like nothing and how it makes it feel like I'm never going to just get over it and change already.

To which she said, "I want to shake that old me. I want to slap her."

ME TOO. (not her, me.)

That's when we both got it at the same time.

I want to be able to say that if I could go back in time, I would hug me. I would forgive me. I would somehow love me no matter what I was doing.

I haven't been giving her that grace.

One thing I know for sure is that God loved me despite all of it, and He still loves me now.

Instead of doing the same, I've looked back in disgust, shaking my head and feeling a whole lot of shame, whether I think I've worked through it or not.

Being hard on yourself for things you cannot change is just as much a waste of time as not forgiving others.

Then my friend said, "I think this is more about love than it is about change."
The change will come with love. Love is a change magnet. Like a rainbow to the rain.

We joked then about how we're not quite ready to hug our former selves.

"Maybe tomorrow," she said. "For today, let's just go with a high five."

Yeah, I guess that's a good place to start, better than a slap or a kick anyway.

Perhaps the next time I sit down with the old notebooks, instead of cringing, hating that young me for what she did or what she said or what she didn't do, I will look at her differently, forgive her, and then leave the pages behind. I hope so. I'd like to love her so she can stop effecting my present.

That would be just the miracle I'm looking for, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to hug her first.


(If you would like to read another redemptive story brought on by the notebooks from my past, I wrote more about them here.)

My Part

Miles called me back to his bedroom.

"I'm scared."

"I'm right in the next room, what are you scared about?"

"Remember that guy with the slurpy tongue? That big guy who ate up people by slurping them in the cave?"

"No, I don't remember that. I don't know what you're talking about, but if you feel scared, why don't you talk to God about it, ask Him to take those thoughts away so you can sleep."

A few minutes later, I'm back to sorting through piles and piles of paperwork, and from the monitor I hear, "GOD, GIVE ME A CHANCE HERE AND MAKE.ME.STOP.THINKING.THAT. UUUGGGHHHH!"

I feel a tinge of recognition, a pain in my heart. I can relate to his frustration and fear.

Moments after that, he's calling me back to his room again. He tells me (with his exasperated-I'm-trying-to-sound-like-a-grown-up-voice) that God is not listening to him. He says God won't take away the scary thoughts.

Then the words just poured from me and I found myself standing there talking to my boy and myself about something very important.

"You have to do your part, Miles."

I went on and attempted to explain that God can give him the strength, but he needs to make a choice to think about something else too. He needs to decide to think a different way, like maybe about Curious George, something good or funny.

Oh, how I too want a magic wand experience with God. World peace - Pazow! An end to world hunger - Whamo! Healing for the sick- Kaboom! Overcoming my own demons - DONE! Patience and peace with a touch of a zen-like state - YOU GOT IT! BOOM! Money tree - IT'S YOURS!

Maybe it works that way sometimes, and I'm sure that's awfully nice. But for the most part, I think it's a two-way street. To be honest, most of the time I wish it were not. I don't want to have to do anything but believe. I want to sit back and watch goodness come from my wanting of it.

Then I remember what would be lacking.

If God always responded with immediate relief, the relationship and refinement that comes with doing my part would disappear. When I listen, when I pick myself up and do what I know I need to do, I finally take a good look at those purposes.

What we're working on here, together, is my heart.

I haven't been doing that lately. I'm standing in doorways and preaching to my child, but then on the other side of the wall I am fists tight and a stomping foot. I am shouting, "GOD, GIVE ME A CHANCE HERE AND MAKE.ME.STOP.THINKING.THAT. UUUGGGHHHH!"

I see the child that I am standing there, and I know I've got work to do. I just don't really feel like doing my part.

What amazes me is that my heart continues to grow and change despite myself, ever so very slowly, even when I don't want to try.

Grace.

Miles somehow accepted my advice without an argument or a sound. He was sitting up, shoulders slumped in the dark and after hearing what he needed to do, he let himself fall back to his pillow. To try again. To rest.

Sometimes that's all we can do.

The Spaces

Mindy Smith sings the hauntingly beautiful song below. (She also sings a mean "Jolene" with Dolly Parton. Just sayin') I thought about this song (not Jolene, the one below) during a discussion about the book The Shack recently. Someone mentioned that they loved the part when the character portraying Jesus in the book tells Mack, the main character, that he didn't leave his daughter alone when she was kidnapped. Mack had a lot of hard questions about why God would allow this to happen, thinking that his daughter was simply abandoned by the God that created her. Then Jesus says something about it not working that way, that he's always with us, even in the worst of things. He says, "I was with Missy in that truck."

"Worry not my daughters. Worry not my sons. "


We can only get so far when we ask the hard questions in this life. There's nothing wrong with seeking the answers, but the parts that don't quite make sense to us are the very spaces we are asked to have faith. If we believe the part about God's constant prescence and love, it's like we've set a magnet in one of our spaces, one that pulls our faith to it with it's strength and settles in with peace. So I love this line -

"In Heaven, we will wait for your arrival. In Heaven, you will finally understand."

We are loved.

Even for a duck

After a long day of fun in the sun, playing ball, flying a kite and grilling out, we turned on to our quiet street, a load of happy sun-kissed people, worn and ready for baths and bed. But in the shade of a tall tree, we noticed two ducks sitting right on the street. We unloaded ourselves and crossed the tar, hoping to get the Mallard and his wife to stand and rush, inadvertently removing themselves from the real danger of a vehicle tire.

The male stood and led the way, drawing his lady to a nearby tree, hopping up and over the curb to reach a spot to hide behind the trunk. Then we saw it, the way she was walking, one leg flinching with the effort. She was injured, slow, tired. She didn't panic as birds do. She seemed unconcerned, no energy left to fight her fear.

So we said things like "Oh look, she's hurt." And we watched her limp slowly over the curb, struggling to lift herself.

My heart was breaking, even for a hurting bird, watching her pain and wishing I could end it. I was biting back tears and trying to answer all of the three year old questions coming my way. Her end was very near, I could see that. My controlling tendencies started to hop around in my head and heart. For a moment, I tried to think of a way to fix the situation. Then I started to think about what our pastor had said that morning, about the inevitable pain of life. He said it like it is, "Your life will never be void of suffering. Never. That's just LIFE." Then he talked about how it's not so much about the suffering itself, it's about whether or not we have the faith to believe in greater purposes. Do we truly believe that God does not just leave us in our pain, does not strike us down with ailments and death with a big stick, but that He takes all of it and works it together for good? That pain is an inevitable result not of God's will, but of a world that fell away from Him? That He will rescue us at times, and not at others, according to the very best bigger picture that only He can see? That kind of trust is terrifying.

It won't stop the pain, it will simply bring hope in place of despair.

Asher watched the duck so closely, without a sound for the longest time. Until suddenly, a guttural cry came from him, a heart-piercing and loud, "OOOOH, ooowie....OOOH." There was so much sadness in his sound, buried in layers of empathy. Our friend who was with us, watched him and let out a soft, "Wow." Yes. That boy knows pain. And so, he loves any creature deeply enough to feel theirs with them. I suppose that's what we're to do with all this suffering. Love, feel for each other, lifting the burden even just a little, in a moment on the street as we observe, feeling helpless.

Miles stepped closer, carefully inching his way toward the ducks like a curious moth to an intriguing flame, firing off questions about what happened, why is her leg like that, and did we run her over when we drove by? "No, honey. No. She was like this before we came along, we didn't do it." He thought about it for a while and then he said, "God doesn't like it that the duck is hurting."

No, I don't think God does like it even one bit. And knowing that He doesn't somehow lifts the fear of the inevitable suffering in our future. If He doesn't like pain, He groans as Asher did, because He too knows pain, and I know that when He cries out, something happens. Peace. Mercy. Grace. Love.

Asher's groans, my tears, and Miles' questions serve their purpose in reaching the ears of a God who I believe cares deeply. Our cries are love. He is love. Love even for a Mallard duck, limping on a quiet street. How much greater is our love for each other, all held together by His love for us? When we enter each other's pain, we're showing a level of trust that we may not have even known was there. And it's good.

How Great IS our God?

I saw the below video this morning and wanted to share it here.

You know, I think about myself so much, that I make me (and my problems) really big and important. This video reminded me how very small I am in this big old universe. Not unimportant, just very small. Which reminded me of our discussion here recently on faith and humility and other things.

You may have to stick with it just a few minutes to really get into it, but I'm pretty sure you won't be disappointed by the end. No matter what you believe about God, this will get you thinking. If you aren't able to sit through 5 parts at once, the post will still be here, come back later (with popcorn), this is really good stuff.

If you have older children, I think this would be a really good thing for them to see. It really drives home what miracles we (they) are, and how much God loves us. I think that's so important for kids to fully grasp starting at a young age. (I say "older children" only because it probably won't keep younger children's attention.)

OK, enough rambling Heather...

ENJOY!

Oh OK, just one more thing. I have this tendency to doubt that God is actually really intimately involved with humans. I see all the sick kids, the death, the disease and I want to scream "WHAT are you doing???" But today I was reminded that He's there and He's HUGE. He is the One that picks up the pieces, helps us take one step further...even when He could have left us to do the pain thing all by ourselves. We see it. We see the miracles coming after death, disease, and pain. He didn't have to do that. But He made it so that the greatest good will eventually come from every pain and sorrow. There is an eternal hope.

The End. (of my part anyway) :)

In which I attempt to answer two different questions at once

If you're new here, we've been carrying on a conversation in which my friend Jess asks questions about our beliefs and we make attempts at answering.
If you would like to start at the beginning of this faith conversation, please click here.

Also, please keep in mind that I don't claim to be right (correct). I don't think anyone can claim that when discussing all aspects of theology. That's why we argue so much, all those different interpretations of things and such. This is just me, sharing my personal thoughts, feelings, and beliefs based on my own experiences, and what bubbles around in my mind and heart.
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"The groaning of creation is not a pretty sound."-Angie

When I was a little girl my parents, my sister, and I would take camping trips Up North with friends and family. I don't remember much about these yearly adventures, it's been a really long time. But I do remember a big, black, scary dog that wandered into our camping space and sat at our fire like a mascot, and a horse on a country road that trampled a car.

They say the things that bring out the most emotion are the things you always remember.

I'm guessing at some time those memories will continue to fade, but there's one thing I'll never forget. And that's the day a little girl with blond hair was pulled from the lake to the shore, lifeless. She was gone. Her parents were left without her. What was left was a heaviness that hovered around that wide open space, the murmurs of grown-up speak, and my own confusion.

I didn't look to God, asking those difficult questions that I ask now. I simply wanted to know what her parents were supposed to do without her? Even at a young age I understood that parents need their children to be who they are, who they became when that new little person joined their family.

But it didn't surprise me that such a thing could happen. As a young girl, I think I more easily accepted that life holds both beauty and ugliness, disease and health, danger and safety, good and evil.

I was emotionally affected, but not doubting the goodness of God. I readily accepted that God is the beauty, the health, the safety and the good. I understood more easily that He was a shelter from this life, a loving Father who was very sad when something went terribly wrong.

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Is it that I'm just more aware as I grow older? Is it the fact that I'm a part of the internet now, seeing so many sad stories, or is it really getting worse?

I guess it doesn't really matter. What matters is what we make of it. How do we go about loving each other? We have to, it's all that we can do.

There are times when I want to hide. I want to find a place in my own comfort zone and just ignore the groans. And then there are times when I just want to take it all in and see what I can do about it.

No matter what time it is, I want the groaning, the pain and sickness and dying to stop.

I can try to wax theological all I want, but I doubt that even twenty years in seminary would give me all the answers. I could approach it all psychologically, I'm good at that, I have a degree there. But no amount of therapy or understanding of the human brain could take away the pain. All I can do is pray, and even then I will not have all the answers in this life. There are some things that our mere human minds can't possibly ever know.

So many people ask me how I have any faith at all. What does it all mean? Why doesn't God stop this roller coaster ride and let us all off?

Do you want to know the truth?

I don't know.

I can only go so far with my answers before I hit a dead end. That end is usually at the question "Well sure, God works things together for good, He comforts, He loves, He cries...but if He's an all-powerful God why did He let us go our own way in this fallen place in the first place? Why doesn't He just make it all stop?"

I love the line from a Chris Rice song that responds to those questions with, "Maybe it's because He loves us that He's giving us more time here."

No, it's not always a fun place to be, but perhaps He's not snatching us out of it because there are so many that have chosen not to believe Him. He wants to give us all a chance to experience the joy and peace that comes with throwing caution to the wind and getting to know Him. He wants us to know Him, to realize He's more than worth knowing, so that when He takes us home to a perfect place we'll know Who it is we'll be joining.

Maybe we groan because there is something at the core of each one of us that just wants to go home.

I believe that we humans made a choice to separate ourselves from God, making our own road back to Him quite long. The result of our turning from Him in our free will is that He has to respect that. He has to let us go. Why would He want a forced love? So we go. Just as if our kids turned to us and said, "I don't want to follow your rules, you're not the boss of me, I'm leaving."

Oh how we would want them home. But we'd have to let them decide to get to know how much we truly love them, to trust us, and to return.

I think that the fact that there is so much good and beauty in the middle of all of this is the proof of the God we're looking for. I can't believe that He continues to lavish such gifts on us despite our propensity to rebel, to control, to fix things for ourselves. Despite our pride.

I'm humbled by that.

Jess, you asked me once how I can believe in God's plan when it includes children living in pain. "Why did Asher have to hurt for that greater good to be accomplished?" (and I paraphrase.) I've thought more about that recently...

I don't think God planned for Asher to be hurt, to have a brain surgery at age one. I don't think He likes it one bit. BUT, our life story here at the EO household is still in His hands, in His will. As we "free will" our way through and come up against the groans of humanity, He is turning all of it to good, somewhere, somehow, molding it to his will (if you will :).

I don't believe He strikes us down randomly. I think disease is a result of a fallen world, not something God plans. In short (ha!) He takes all the bad, that of our own doing and what's simply happening because this place is a mess, and he brings it back to good. Sometimes not in the timely way we expect, but in a perfect way that we would accept if only we were able to see the very biggest picture. The very end. The grand dream come true. Eternity. Infinity. Whoa.

The messes and the pain are something He redeems. He uses it all to bring beauty, grace, wisdom, and perspective. In our trials we learn what love really means, it grows deeper in us and then it's shared. So many times we're not even aware of what an impact our trials have on us and those who are changed in a positive way like a ripple effect.

He doesn't have to do that. But He does. He could say, "Well, most of you want nothing to do with me so good luck...see ya...I'm turning my face from you." But He doesn't.

And I'm humbled.

In the days I feared for Asher He drew me closer to Him because I so fully knew He was there...It's when your hurting, terrified and desparate that you start to see Him sometimes. I don't think He's playing games though. He's not making us hurt so we'll notice Him. I think it's that our pride finally is set aside in those moments and we can finally see Him.

He was there when the IV went in so easily for Asher's surgery. The nurses were stumped, shocked, and so happy. Not a peep out of the little Ash Man. Miraculous.

He was there when an unbelievable peace washed over me as I watched the clock and waited for the neurosurgeon to come and tell us Asher was OK.

He was there when Asher drifted off to sleep in his hospital bed despite hours of agitation, crying and pain. A peaceful sleep through the night. A miracle, in his condition.

And that's humbling. Because I ignore Him so much of the time. I don't believe He's going to carry me through sometimes. I even doubt His existence, and especially His never-ending grace, and yet He never fails to fit himself into the corners of my humanity...healing, loving, comforting, holding...Doing the very things He would do if we had lost Asher. I'm pretty sure I would have lost my mind if that were the outcome, but I would have somehow survived it.

And that too would be a miracle.

Healing that kind of pain? Miraculous. Humbling. I know for certain that is not something I could do on my own. Sometimes he heals the pain in the child, and when He cannot because of a much bigger picture than we can see, He's healing the parents through a million small miracles that all add up to love.

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OK, I'm done.

(Almost.)

In every explanation or attempt at understanding exactly how God works there are gaps. Things that we just don't like. We all want so badly to escape the horrors of this life. We want it all to make perfect sense. We want perfect answers that take away the pain. But we just don't. That's where the trust comes in. To come to a place of knowing that God really is good. All the time. And then believing that even in death, there is hope...in that biggest picture happy ending.

Feast or Famine

Over ten years ago I stood in the city dump in Quito, Ecuador baffled by the stench of garbage and completely disturbed by the fact that people lived there. My heart hurt as the dark side of life sunk in.

We were an idealistic group of Americans, and as we crawled out of our van and stood loaded down with loaves of bread, we let the children run to us, their dirty faces smiling.

Radiant smiles. Pure joy, confidence, contentment, shone from their faces like headlights angled up a bit too much, blinding with bright. I was the deer in those headlights, dumbfounded and confused, unable to move for fear I might miss something, a clue as to why this awful place held so much happiness.

That's when I began to realize I was the one there to learn something. The aching need I thought would be expressed in those faces wasn't there as I had predicted. These people were simply happy. I imagine they were truly thankful for our gifts. But the thankfulness in their faces wasn't temporary, a result of our presence or our bread. It looked like the kind of gratitude that proved consistent, a part of the countenance of the souls behind those smiles. It was the kind of thankfulness that could be trusted to remain, gifts or no gifts, feast or famine.

I looked at the cardboard boxes leaning together posing as walls and roof tops, and thought of how so many called this home. There were old blankets and stuffed animals molded into beds. I couldn't imagine spending even one night there. But for many residents of the city dump, it was all they'd ever known.

I thought we would come to these people and tell them something they didn't know. That there is a God who loves them despite their circumstances. I was going to teach them about faith. But mine is a faith clouded with things. Opinions of denominations, the inevitable task of keeping house, daily doses of commercial "freedoms" clouding my vision and confusing me. I can have the best of intentions to love my neighbor the way these people did, but my intentions often get buried under sales flyers, phone calls, emails, and the rat race of my American life.

That day in the dump I realized that one day, or even three weeks of stepping outside my comfort zone was not what I was called to do. It was a good thing to do, but I knew I couldn't leave it at a loaf of bread, wash my hands of it, and head home.

Because every one of us has a specific calling over our lives to serve the people around us, whether there is a feast or a famine in our own lives.

The fulfillment of moving forward and reaching out brings joy, feast or famine.

That day in the dump, we had shown up with the idea that we knew something about life and faith that these people needed. We went assuming that what we knew of God had not yet been revealed to the people of the city dump in Ecuador. We felt we were there to help some lost souls meet Him.

But God had shown up long before we had.

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them." -Bono

The light that shone in those eyes I met that day was pure, ignited by the simplest of life's pleasures. And a knowledge of a loving God that meets people in their need. The Great Comforter is a dear friend to those that live in the city dump. And He is just as close to those of us who are completely distracted. We just don't often cry out for Him like those who have set aside their pride and realized their need for His daily presence, feast or famine.

My twenty-year-old American mind could hardly grasp the lesson, but I believe it was there.

Stripped bare of all other desires and freedoms, the human soul can finally rise up to meet contentment as that desperate soul comes face to face with it's Maker. In that contentment there is pure joy, feast or famine.

Tomorrow

As I look to tomorrow, the big election day, my head is full. There is only one thing I know. God does allow us to make our own choices, but He's always moving us toward a specific goal. His kingdom, where love reigns.

He is there already, defying time and space, completely capable of handling all of our tomorrows.

The following post was written by my friend Kristen and was posted today on her blog.
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It's an election year, and passions and opinions about the abortion debate are at an all-time high. People are extremely vocal about their views on protecting the unborn. In fact, it seems to be, for many, the single-most important factor in deciding who to vote for.

I am pro-life, and I think all this conviction is great. But I wonder what it will look like on November 5th? Will we be as "pro-life" once the vote is cast? Where will all this energy go? Once the pro-life political email forwards and youtube videos slow down, how do we take this enthusiasm and translate it into action?

• How would this affect how we spend our time?
• How can we mobilize our local church to care for birthmoms?
• How we will care for pregnant teens in our own community?
  How would we assist with the orphan problem worldwide?
• How will we respond to the 115,407 children in foster care who are waiting for a family?
• How will we aid children suffering from malnutrition in impoverished countries?
• How will we demand that our government protect the lives of innocent civilian children living in countries that we attack?
• How will we respond to the children in US cities who live on the streets or in shelters or transient motels?
• How will we educate teenagers so that they have the information they need to avoid unwanted pregnancies?
• How will we keep our local hospitals accountable for their policies on late-term abortions and infant care?

I'm not asking these questions hypothetically. Shocking, I know, but I am not being sarcastic. I am absolutely sincere here, and I hope we can all think about these questions, and how we can respond, so that our pro-life talk becomes more than rhetoric.

I've heard a whole lot of conversation about how people don't want the government choosing how to spend our money, or mandating that our taxes be given to the needy. "The church should respond to the needy, not the government", some say.

So? How are we responding???



It's time to show the world that we are SERIOUS about defending the life of children, both the unborn and the born. We can't leave this up to the government. Our vote, or our president, will not solve the problems facing children and birthmothers in need. We must help. There are too many lives at stake to be passionate with our vote and then forget about this issue until the next election.

So, WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO? - Kristen Howerton
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(back to Heather now)
I'm thankful that I'm not only educating myself one way or the other this election year, choosing to read things that are slanted only toward my personal views and watching only channels that support those views. It's amazing what a good dose of the perspective of both sides can do for your heart and mind.

I don't want to lean so heavily one direction that it becomes my main passion in this life. There is so much more to this life than our one country, our election, or our views on specific certain things.

It doesn't sit right with me when people are passionate to the extent that the Word of God that they stand on is being taken advantage of. No, that doesn't sit right with me.

Slander does not sit right with me. Judgment does not sit right with me. Anger does not sit right with me. Fear does not sit right with me.

Each one of the above is being used to it's fullest extent by the religious right (and the media) in this campaign, and it's wearing me out. I simply find it to be very sad. I see and hear people around me doing and saying things that are absolutely against the teachings of the Bible they profess to believe is truth.

The woman who questioned each of her trick or treaters on who their parents were voting for and refused candy to those that said they were voting for Obama. Hate.

The letter from Dobson predicting the future of our country if Obama is elected, detailing the corruption and demise in the imaginative days to come. Fear.

The man who started a fight with a fellow church-goer in the parking lot of his church for saying he's voting for Obama, calling him a sinner and a fraud. More hate.

Hate and fear are not alone this election year. I want to point at idolatry as well. Our country is not our God. One political party or another is not our God. One president or another is not our God. Our God is still on the throne. He is Sovereign, all-knowing and completely and totally in love with us. He will not let us down. No elected official can keep Him from working ALL things together for good.

When we are this passionate and wrapped up in our political views, we must ask ourselves where our faith is. Is it in this country, the one some believe is somehow the first in line, powering over all other nations, and somehow more important to God than any other nation? Is it in a political party, or in a belief held that says it is our right to mandate the moral decisions of others?

Or are we believing that God's in control no matter who is elected and no matter what party holds the most spaces in office? Do we believe that He might know more about what our country needs than we do, even if we're disappointed in the outcome?

It is one thing to feel strongly about our own taxes and to feel strongly about our moral convictions, but it's also a good idea to dig a little deeper. When I take a look at the world around me and really sit with it, asking God to guide my heart to see it how He does, what do I come up with? Are my blinders on as I put myself and my family before all others and look down my nose at the ideas and practices of others?

Hearing the self-righteous views of Christians around me this election year has not swayed my personal political views. If anything it has reminded me of how badly Christians in our country need a good dose of perspective.

The (much) bigger picture (the world, God's plan, people outside our bubbles...) is often totally forgotten in our haste to be right and to win.

I Want to be One of Them

While looking back over the posts I've written here, I was struck with this thought,

"What a bunch of silliness. If only I could keep the big picture in mind."

I had a conversation with a friend today about the inevitable questions that arise when we look at evil in the world. "Where is God and why is He allowing all of this?"

In the dark times of my past, I did have to wonder a bit on the reality of God. Where is He? Why isn't He helping? Why can't I see Him working? Why am I not convinced of His love? The answers were few and far between, but they came. I still struggle with a lot of questions, but I've been realizing something that is a challenge to me. That is, had I seen the love of God exemplified in the lives of people who claimed to know and believe in Him, I may have believed more fully in Him and myself. If people would have taken time for me and loved me unconditionally, I'm sure I would have found that contagious, maybe even tangible proof that God still had room for me, just as his people did. Instead I experienced people basically walking away, confused as to how my life could be such a mess, leaving me to believe that must be how God felt about me too.

I am in no way saying that the mistakes I made can be blamed on other people. I just wonder how different things would have been if I didn't feel that people's disregard for me meant I was not valuable. Because what ended up happening was that I lived out what I thought I was worth. And I thought I wasn't worth anyone's time, patience or understanding.

There is a messed up, crazy world out there that appears to have been abandoned. But I wonder, are we abandoned by God at all? Or have we simply abandoned each other, leaving most people feeling so unloved, that they lose faith in a loving God? As Gary Haugen of International Justice Mission says, "it's not a matter of asking where God is, but rather, where are God's people?"

I feel challenged by these thoughts because I forget to do selfless and loving things for someone else. Even just something small, keeping a hurting person or place in mind and doing something to help them see that someone remembers them, and considers them valuable. I get wrapped up in my own life and I simply don't take time to do what matters most.

"...the one thing, on which we can all agree, among all faiths and ideologies, is that God is with the vulnerable and the poor...God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house...God is in the debris of wasted opportunities and lives, and God is with us if we are with them." -- Bono

We may see the reality of God more clearly if we would rise to the challenge of fighting for justice in our messed up world, exemplifying God's true nature. To love even the most frustrating of people. What if we did that? If we let someone who feels lost into our lives and hearts, loving them fully? What if we didn't expect someone to change overnight and put aside all their old habits and ways? What if we simply loved them, and taught them about God's unfailing love for them? I wonder if all the baggage they carry would fall away in the face of a radical acceptance they never knew could exist.

If we could do that, I have doubts that we would need to ask the questions we struggle with. We would be seeing God in action through His people, unable to say that He has abandoned us. In reality, more than likely, we would probaby have to admit that we had abandoned each other.

There are a lot of people who live out exactly what I'm talking about. I simply want to be more like them. I simly wish there were more people like them. They are true saints. That word can be used so flippantly, but the word brings to mind the idea of someone fighting to love people, disregarding themselves and focusing on the needs of others.

Sara Groves says it for me, "...and when the saints go marching in. I want to be one of them."
I'll keep working on it.

Still On It? Or Might It Be Gone?

This whole idea of getting off on a detour, outside of the highway you were meant to travel? What is the real, biblical theology behind all of that? Are there clear-cut answers to this question? Or is it another thing that we won't ever know for sure, especially because different theologians, pastors, etc. seem to disagree on it, seeing what the Bible has to say in differing ways? (Sorry about the run-on sentences, but I'm really good at those.)

I used to think that if I was disobedient and didn't follow the directions I was clearly given for my life, that was that. No more perfect plan. No more dreaming. I thought I lost my chance.

For example, in my third year of college, God clearly "spoke" to me about a certain country. I was to do something with my life in regards to this place. A speaker came to chapel (I never really liked chapel) and I expected not to get much out of it, to be honest. But then it happened. I was shaken to my core, brought to complete and utter attention. My body was literally shaking, I couldn't stop the tears, and I knew full well God was speaking to my heart in love. He was saying, "go." But I didn't know what that meant fully and I like to have every detail mapped out so I don't have to worry (totally feasible right?). So I ignored Him.

Ever since that day it's been in the back of my mind that I left God's will for my life on purpose. I have lived with a lot of guilt over that. I have floundered because I figured I wasn't on the right path anyway, so I might as well just...not care. I thought, and sometimes still think, I lost my chance and was now living some other life I was never meant to be living. A life that would bring me far less peace and joy. I started to wallow in depression over all of those thoughts. I started to give up hope that my life meant anything at all.

At one point I asked my sister what she thinks happens if you "miss," in all your glorious free will, God's plan for your life. She held her arm up, running her finger along it as she talked. She said that if her arm was my predestined road and I (her finger) went veering off that path (she slowly drove her finger away from the path of her arm, God's grace and mercy would one day bring me back. It would just be the long way. More painful, possibly. More tiring, surely. But my "finger" would somehow head toward home, and get back on my "arm," my original purpose. At the time, that felt like truth to me. I'm pretty sure I still agree.

Because God is stirring something in me and I've known for awhile now that His love never changed. But I changed. I grew. Maybe I wasn't mature enough to handle whatever was speaking to my heart that day in my college's chapel. No, I know I wasn't mature enough and I know I still struggle with maturity and faithfulness, I've only taken baby steps. But I would not have been this version of Heather. I would have possibly tackled a dream head-on only to be surprised by how ineffectual I was, if I was that twenty-year-old girl with no real life under her belt.

Because I took a detour I experienced some things that stretched my heart beyond it's previous capacity to love. There was endless heart-break, pain, lessons, and trials, many due to my own very serious mistakes. But without those, I wouldn't see people and life the way that I do. Which begs the question, did I really get off on the wrong exit? Was God's plan actually to let me "prodigal it" for awhile? Did He possibly even ordain it?

Or is He now just picking up the pieces despite what my will has done? Because He's forgiving?

Midnight Cafe? Are you there? Wanna discuss this a bit? Is it all just super obvious? Do I just think too much? What are your thoughts? (anyone else? feedback?) I'd love it.

Slow Change

The "other man" in my life (dad!), and I were talking about how hard it is to make the things we learn a real part of our lives. I mean, you can get all excited about something you really "get," and yet it's really hard to make it stick. Really hard to carry it with you in all your years. Really hard to be disciplined and obedient.

Maybe it's just us? I don't know. But I've experienced it over and over. I have these light bulb moments where God is really revealing something profound and I finally grasp it. And then.... gone. Two days, two weeks, two months, whatever it takes, it disappears. It's so frustrating.

I wish I had a super-human capacity to with-stand the distractions and frustrations of life enough to truly live what I know. I can know so many things with both my head and my heart, and still I'm unable to truly live it.

Live what? Patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control.....

That's just the truth.

I suppose this is why Paul said all that stuff about doing what he didn't want to do and never being able to do what he wanted to do...

It's hard.

The only thing I know for sure that works is being in the Word of God. Really in it. Seeking His face in the midst of the stories and poetry. Really studying what it means to me. Really opening myself up to the Holy Spirit's ability to teach me something that would have appeared boring if left to just me and an old Book.

So why can't I stay in the Word like I'd like to? There are so many things I do instead. So many things I would rather do, if I'm being perfectly honest.

I've fallen for a lot of lies in my life. The most devastating one is that seeking God's truths from His very mouth is for the more earnest of heart. Most of the time I believe that I must not be that earnest. I falsely believe that the believers I compare myself to are closer to God than I could ever dream to be. People who cannot give up their time with God, they live for it and breathe it. I compare myself to them and then the guilt and shame come. The questions rise and I wonder how I could be so far from where I would really like to be.

Then I remind me (or dad reminds me) that it's a process. Sometimes I think the difficult and long road I'm on is serving a purpose. Because if it came really easy for me too, I wouldn't be able to relate at all to those who struggle.

If life is a highway and I got off on the wrong exit (more than once), that means the grace of God makes more sense to me than it would if things were always cut and dry, always peaceful.

I don't want to stay here forever, living with this belief that I may never change. The beauty is that I know I won't stay right here. I will continue in this process because God has not forsaken me. He can't. Because His love is too radical for that kind of disregard.

So I keep thinking and praying and calling out for change. A change that will last. Because without the belief that I can change, I would be truly lost. And I'm not.

What Comes First, the Love or the Rules?

I've started writing this three times now, gotten about four paragraphs into it, stopped and deleted it. Maybe that's because I don't really know what I'm thinking or trying to say. So bear with me, as once again, I think out loud.

I struggle so much with a busy mind (not much clarity, only a few moments of 'crisp and clear' here and there). I have a hard time figuring out what's really right and wrong. I have been experiencing this struggle pretty much my entire life. I know a lot of it has to do with being brought up in some pretty conservative circles. I think in some ways that can really mess with your head. And your heart.

I also think it simply has to do with the fact that we're all made to know there's right and wrong, to feel that intuition about yourself and others that really does come down to morals. But there are so many angles and gray areas to me. Sometimes I wish I were more legalistic so I would just be more comfortable and at ease with myself and the way I live life. Behind the rules.

Right now I'm not so comfortable. I still struggle with the idea that God's love and grace are dependant on how I'm living, acting, and even feeling. I don't know how to shake that.

In my childhood and teen years, I did live by the rules (for the most part). The things that were considered really bad, I refrained from.

I think I was happiest then, in the sense of not being tormented by my conscience (as unhealthy as my trained conscience can be). In a sense, I felt free because I was following the rules.

But I don't think that's good.

I don't want to feel free because I'm following the rules.
I want to feel free because I feel wholly loved.
I don't want the things I do to determine how close I feel to God.
I want God's love and how that brings me close to Him, to determine the things I do.
I want to live by the rules on accident.

I want to be so aware that God is crazy about me that I accidentally take care of myself and others, believe in myself, and live out of the joy that brings.

I don't want the things I do and the way I live to come first.

I want the love of God to come first, spilling all over every aspect of who I am.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I wish I would have learned fully of God's love before I learned a list of rights and wrongs. When it comes to "The Christian walk," my road and my ideas are colored with do's and dont's, rather than what it's truly all about.

*I just paused in the writing of this and discovered Midnight Cafe had posted something here (thank you!), and she said what I'm trying to say. So I'm going to stop rambling on now and post this tomorrow. I want hers to be the latest post for awhile. Cause it's good stuff...

That Beautiful Thing

I had a very interesting conversation about Christianity last night. This particular conversation has been a long time coming and today I can't get it out of my head. I really didn't say much. Hardly anything at all. I listened long and hard about the views of...let's call him...Ron. I respected him and refrained from talking. That's really hard for me to do. I love to talk. I love to say what I think. I love to keep rambling until I feel I've been understood. But last night there wasn't room for that. It isn't even that I'm afraid I don't know what to say, although at times there's some of that. It's just that sometimes it's time to shut up.

I'm torn about this conversation because the topic was so heavy and intense and I felt as if I couldn't do justice to what I hold in my heart. I'm also torn because on so many levels Ron and I are on the same page. We hold a lot of the same views on justice, compassion, peace, and the struggle to understand why Christianity has become what it is today.

I've known for a long time where Ron comes from. He says he's not a Christian, but is very focused on spirituality. He believes in the spirit world, in a divine calling and plan for our lives, and each person's individual power. That we are all made in God's image and hold His power and His goodness. (I'm probably not doing his beliefs justice because there isn't enough space and time here, and I'm not him, so I can't speak for him. That's simply a short version of my take on what he believes.)

And Jesus? Well, we talked about Him a lot. Or I should say Ron talked about him a lot and I listened. It may be putting it too simply, but my understanding is that he believes Jesus did live here. He believes He did what the Bible says He did. He talked a long while about Jesus' love, His ability to perform miracles, and His revolution for the poor in a dark time. He called it all a "beautiful thing." But the thing that Ron can't stand is how the end of the story is, in his view used for fostering guilt. He talked about being shown the crucifixion story at a young age and how it scarred him. He feels he was taught that the message behind the cross is that you should be so disturbed by it that you never forget that you owe this Jesus. That you never forget how unworthy you are. That you never forget that you better live in a way that doesn't offend what Jesus did. And if you don't live right, you better feel pretty bad about nailing Jesus to that cross.

This is one of the areas where I can totally respect his frustration. I don't think that any of what he was fed, or that many of us are fed, is the point at all. Jesus did not die so we'd feel bad about it for a lifetime. He did it to take on every ugly perversion and hateful act of mankind in one fell swoop so that we could be free. He did it because He is love. I'm not saying we're free to do whatever we want because Jesus took care of it, but I genuinely don't believe the point of the cross was for us to wallow in our unworthiness and never forget how bad we are. But sometimes that's what we're taught, subtley or not.

I think the only question I asked Ron was what he thinks about Jesus claiming He is God. The one and only God. He said some things about how he doesn't know, because he's not sure exactly what Jesus said and perhaps His words have been twisted...Then he went on to say how frustrating it is to watch the Western world fall for an idea of fear-based religion and all that's been stripped from the original stories and teachings of Jesus. That frustrates me too. But I still believe that Jesus is the one and only God, part of a beautiful trinity that has revealed itself to me in a powerful, tangible and personal way. That's where we're different. But I didn't say that.

I didn't say it because Christians really have done a number on the truths of a loving God. To the extent that when these conversations arise, there is so much frustration and anger, that I don't even get a chance to speak. Pretty much anything I could say would come out sounding like the same old mumbo jumbo Ron's been hearing his entire life. Things he has an educated argument against.

There are times when I think I just need to rest in being me. Just rest in knowing that there are times when I shouldn't speak. Rest in the hope that perhaps my life might speak more than any scripted answer I could ever attempt at giving. I cannot tout my beliefs to someone who is in fight or flight mode. He's in that mode because of a long history of people in his life misrepresenting Christianity.

What is so interesting to me is that if you take the Christianity of today and you strip away judgement, arrogance and disrespect, and maybe even guilt, you come up with what Ron believes. If these things were removed from his idea of Christianity, he may not refuse to call himself a Christian. Because the things he holds dearest to his heart and soul are exactly what Jesus came to teach.

So I'm thinking about this conversation today and feeling sad and a little angry. Angry that the "beautiful thing"Jesus came to do has been all covered up in many ways. And yet I'm feeling hopeful, knowing that all of it works together. Even the disillusionment and failures of God's people and the mistakes they've made to hurt others will all work together in His good and perfect plan. He's that powerful. He's that wise. And He loves us that much.