God-Shaped [Burden]

So the other day I was talking to a kid in my class. He got a text message from a friend of his, which read, "I believe you now." The person I was talking to texted back, asking what his friend meant. The reply was, "God isn't real."

Why do people push each other closer to hell.

And then, and then, and then, just when I want to say the most, just at what appears to be the most opportune moment— I have no words. None. I can't think of a single thing to say that would point to Jesus, lead to hope, offer encouragement or truth. It scares me when that happens. I feel helpless but I have to believe that even in my undesirable silence God is working, and that for some reason unbeknownst to me, He shut my mouth on purpose.

I dislike the way things are going with the people around me who don't know Jesus. Do you ever feel like a failure when it comes to "making disciples"? I'm struggling to get people to listen, to understand, to feel, to whatever, much less make them into a disciple. There are opportunities everywhere I go, in almost everyone I meet, with practically every conversation I step into, and it frustrates the daylights out of me because I never know what to say or how to say it. Like Sarah. I really like this girl, we're friends, she's incredibly intelligent and in my 1st and 4th block. She's an atheist who seems like she could be open to "Jesus-talk" because she asks questions but why haven't I made any progress? And then there's Nick, in 2nd block, who tells me he likes to talk to me about things he wouldn't tell anyone else but he's so closed to God because he's logical and it "didn't work when he read the Bible, prayed, and went to church." Yet he says he wishes all of his friends were Christian's, in case it was real... I don't even know where to begin with him because he's a genius. And Ryan, who is the epitome of oxymoron, who will go to church when he feels like it, questions everything about anything, and says no matter how great Jesus was (if he was even real) he still loves his parents way more and doesn't understand God if He were to exist like I try to explain. And then Joe... he's a strange case. Last week he brought in a whole binder of atheist views and contradictions in the Bible and quizzed and prodded me for a good thirty minutes before the teacher told him to shut up.

It's really irritating. Considering it's the end of the school year and it seems like I've gotten no where. And yes, I know it's not my job to save anyone and I'm not called to take on the world, but something, anything, knowing that I've planted a seed or done something useful for the Lord would be nice. I know I haven't done enough, haven't prayed enough, haven't interceded enough, read enough.

Oh, and my future roommate? Not a Christian. She's not sure what she believes and is not opposed to the idea or to church, even, from what I gather... I really am surrounded by non believers and I have no idea what to do with it. I feel like I'm blowing my opportunities.

And then there's mirror-girl, who's only looking at what she wants through the glass, unattainable and distant, until everything breaks as she lashes out in... what? Anger? Despair?

And for some reason I have no words for her, either. I can only cry with compassion and a God-shaped burden and wait.

Faith and Desire

I'm in my living room and it feels like fall, because the window is open next to me and cool air is coming in enough to give me goose bumps. Dusk is my favorite part of the day. I'm not cold though— I'm wearing a jacket two sizes too big, striped with a big hood, and it has a faint, spicy scent that tingles my nose pleasantly, like a memory. Mom says, you know you have to give that back. I say, I know... but not yet.

Eight days left of high school.

If there's something I've been awakened to, it's the fact that my future lies open before me, much like the ocean we stood on early Saturday morning. I'm waiting for my sun to rise and break through the clouds, and I'm impatient. I have to pray for patience. There is so much in my vision and the light is breaking, reflecting off of planets and illuminating the moon that has for so long governed my skies... but now the sun is coming up, and life is going to begin. Really begin, and I'm terribly excited.

God: You've got me. You've got me and you've given me a glimpse. Just a glimpse but Father, that's all I need. And I am UP and RUNNING in that direction, Lord. This summer, this fall, college, internship, Bosnia missionary possibility (!), 5th Floor Ministries, riding the Train to the cabin without insulation, Master's degree, semester abroad in a Hispanic country, National Geographic, presidential speech writer, oh man oh man oh man! And there's people who are asking me about you all over the place. I can't go to a single class (literally) without someone challenging my faith or asking me questions or setting up debates. It's insane-crazy and it's preparation. I'm ready. Or I'm not ready but I'm ready to be ready. Mhmm. I am not content in my relationship with you but I am content to keep striving, you know?

Oh, hallelujah for a future in Your hands.

Let's do this thing right.

All Aboard

Picture this:

You're at a train station in downtown London. It's raining outside and everything smells like wet paper and stale coffee, and people are rushing past you in brown trench coats with their hats pulled down over their faces to keep away the sting of the wind. It's not modern; probably the early 1900's, and World War I is well under way. There are so many people flocking to the shelter of the station that you're getting jostled around, and you feel a little bit lost but you have your ticket in hand— you just need to get on the train, so that you can make it to shelter. You see, you don't know exactly where you're going, because the Ticket has an unspecified destination to protect you, since it's war times; like most others, your travels will take you out into the countryside, and you don't know if you'll be a long ways out or a little ways in. That's not your job to figure out. You just need to get on the train.

You finally board, and a frazzled attendant shows you to your compartment. It's shabby, because the train itself is older and has been around the block a few times— it's seen it's share of coming togethers and falling aparts, hellos and goodbyes, love and apathy. As you sit down on the wooden seat, it's as though the papered walls are waiting, waiting to see what you will bring and where you will go and what choice you will make. You think to yourself, It can't be anything new... can it? The rain is steadily slating against the window panes, making it hard to see the station as the train slides away into the open. You sigh, take out a notebook, and begin to journal without much interest, until you doze off to the sound of drops on frosted glass.

A little while later you wake up to an enormous crick in your neck. Stretching, you realize the rain has slowed to a dull drizzle, and that your stomach is growling at you for food since the measly pastry you bought at a side-stand that morning. Rubbing your eyes, you pick up your notebook and walk out into the corridor that runs the length of the train. The carpet smells a little musty, and it's a maroon color, blending in with the dark paneled walls and giving off the feeling of claustrophobia. You turn left, because the parlor is that way, and it's about time for tea. There are lots of people in the parlor, standing anxiously off to the side or parked uncomfortably on a sofa, waiting to be served. You don't really notice anyone in particular until you see, next to the window, a man reading a newspaper intently, with lines of concentration deepening on his forehead and a rather bored expression smoothing his elegant facial features. His clothing is impeccable and timeless— a dark suit, close-fitting and sharp, with shiny black shoes and a hat on the chair next to him. The only thing out of place is his tie, which is loosened and hanging rather forlornly around his handsome neck. But the extraordinary thing about him, you realize, are his eyes, deep-set and unfathomable, crinkled at the corners from smiling and shaded a contrasting maple and fern. As you wonder at him, he suddenly looks up.

And you realize why you got on the train. You understand where you're going. And, just as suddenly, you know who you're going with.

"I wonder sometimes about the outcome..."

Am I living it right? Don't believe me when I say I've got it down.

Oh man. So life is crazy and sweet and difficult and I'm watching it unfold in a zillion different ways, at least a trillion of them unexpected. But unexpected things are surprisingly beautiful most of the time, as has been proven again and again.

Tonight I took my mom out for Mother's Day. I was on plan G when it came down to it (nothing seems to go as planned) but it turned out so well that I really can't complain. We went to the Cleveland Draft House and I gave her the card I had bought and the letter I had written to her. I told her she would laugh at the card and cry at the letter, and she did. The card was funny because it was all in spanish and I had to translate it for her (it was spanish because I call her madre and, well, I knew she would understand me getting her a Mother's Day card in a different language). It was a really nice card, actually; if a hispanohablante had actually bought the card it would have been quite sentimental. I guess it still was after my translation, who knows. The letter... it was sincere.

We were waited on by a guy I know from school, Chris, and I was so pleasantly surprised by his actions and how nice of a waiter he was. You have to know Chris and our past relationship to understand what I mean, but at the end of the meal he dropped the tab and said "You got water." I didn't understand what he meant until I looked at the receipt and realized he hadn't charged us for drinks. I left him a good tip, not because he didn't charge but because I appreciated his kindness of association (at the restaurants expense, but that's not the point) and because I always love it when he surprises my by being the good guy. As we left he laughed when I thanked him and said, "Yeah, you were always the nice girl. Drive safe." For some reason, it meant a lot.

After this we went to Benson park and took pictures in the gazebo. It was so nice; perfect weather with a pretty little sunset, dappled clouds and lots of games being played in the distance. Talking to my mom reminds me just how blessed I am, how fast life is coming, and how much I'm going to miss these little moments that I so often take for granted. We left and went to Dairy Queen (raspberry truffle blizzards are amazing) and then came back home. It was good and I feel like this year (the last Mother's Day of my childhood) I really showed her how much I love and appreciate her. I think she had a pretty good time.

For some reason, maybe just because it was Mother's Day and I worked with the kids at church this morning, I've been thinking about what it will be like to be a mom and have a child. We're going over having kids in psychology and I have to do a project on my life from prenatal birth to now and I think that adds to my thought life. What will it be like to be pregnant? To place my hands on my tummy and feel the little kick and know that there's life inside me, a little miracle all in itself, that's going to look a little like me and that is going to rely on me to stay alive for the first few years and... I don't know. Is it normal to think about it? A little blue-eyed baby with brown hair and a pug nose that will be my responsibility, that I'll love more than life itself as I pray to God that I do things right. And I'll be picking out names like Theodore or Savannah or Georgia or Landon or whatever, preparing the new room and preparing my heart to be completely unselfish and sacrificial... wow. It's a pretty amazing thought. Non-retractable.

NO, I am not planning on having children any time soon, I don't want one even in the near-distant future, please don't think I'm desiring pregnancy. It was just the thought of the day.

Anyways, this week is another hectic one. Tuesday is AP Environmental test, make-up Spanish exam right after school, and Luke's house to celebrate his sister's birthday. Wednesday is school and my planned surprise (!), Thursday is Ashton's play, Friday and Saturday are at the beach with the senior members of the Underground for a graduation retreat, Sunday is church and going to UNC to get my laptop and working on psych/APES projects, and Monday starts it all over again with the end of the school year, my high school career, staring me in the face. And then a glorious, but short, summer full of sun and then... hello Chapel Hill. Hello, rest of my life...

Something Worth Fighting For.

"Love is not a place To come and go as we please It's a house we enter in, and then commit To never leave." That's pretty strong. And it's also incredibly true. This song, by Warren Barfield, randomly came to mind today— or perhaps not so randomly?— and the verse really made me start to think. I have told people I love them all my life— I love to love people, no joke. At first I was quite critical; did I mean it, was it honest, was it pure, was it different? Are there different kinds of love to refer to? And more importantly, have I loved in a way that Christ does? I have told people I loved them and been flippant about it. But there are people to whom I have said "Hey, you know, I really do love you," and I mean it every time I say it and I meant it every time I said it. That sort of love, coming from me personally, does not change with time, or circumstance, or the temperature of the relationship, whether hot or cold. Because like the song says, love is a commitment that endures time and hurt and struggle and present emotional upheavals. Friends have come in and come out, but the fact that they may now be "out" or "in" does not change the fact that I love them the same. And it hurts (understatement!) when those people come back and say "you lied. you never loved me." Oh, but I didn't lie! I didn't lie. I make mistakes and choices that may overshadow the fact that I love you, for a time, but intentional cruelty has never existed. Love protects and love makes hard decisions, as I've said so many times before, and decisions I've made I have made with a heart longing for the Lord, listening for Him and His direction. I am not sorry for them. I am confident in how God has lead me and despite indifference I've shown it was out of necessity and I still, I still, I still love you. No matter where we are (or aren't).

Some people are careful with the word love and I am in complete understanding of where they're coming from— no one wants to be cheap or short-changed. But when I love people, I love them, and I tell them. I let them know that I love them and I love doing things for them, listening to them, spending time with them. The best sort of love, though, is mutual. One-sided love is the most difficult (understatement again!) thing I have ever experienced, and most of the time, the other person doesn't even realize it. Not really. They might be too busy trying to win sympathy or a shoulder stronger than their own, and it turns into dependency or complete attachment... no accusations here, I've done it myself. Or they may be preoccupied. Or they may not even know how to love and I can't teach them... and I've probably done a bad job at showing them how. But despite these flaws, the truth remains— I did, I do, and I will continue to love... you and everyone else.

I need to quit trying to explain myself. Haha.

Oh! And my heart says...