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.