All The World Is Waiting

Tonight, there is a premier symphony in Memorial Hall. It's called "Of Angels and Neurons"— the guy who composed it came and talked to my Great Musical Works class yesterday. He's been nominated for Grammy's and whatnot. I think it's so cool how famous people will come and talk to our classes here... I've met and talked to a symphony composer! It's like a modern-day Beethoven experience!... Okay, maybe not that great, but you get the point. It's sort of cool.

Oddly, I enjoyed the rain today. It seems like it's always raining here, and usually it's sort of irritating, but today I like it. It was cold and the wind stung my face and my nose turned red, and the rain was fat and chilly. I should be in England, but this is close enough. Stranded on bricks that are so crooked that it's like walking in one long, continuous string of puddles, needing rain boots, tilting my umbrella back and spinning it nonchalantly, pretending I'm a younger, classier version of Mary Poppins. Yes, I am a nerd.

I am somewhat looking forward to the weekend. I'll be here, in Chapel Hill. Danielle goes home every weekend and that makes it harder because I'm here alone in the dorm room, but this weekend I am intentionally going to look for things to do. I'll go back to Grace Church on Sunday morning. Maybe I'll get in touch with some of the girls from my small group on Saturday or find a game to go to. There's an event called Late Night with Roy on Friday where the basketball players put on a little show, so I may go to that. It's not very late (6-9) but it's better than sitting on my computer. And then next week is fall break. Hallelujah. Hopefully I'll go to the fair, too. I have a few doctor's appointments, but they shouldn't take too long.

I can do this. For the Son.

Do You Remember?

Close your eyes.

We were pushing through a crowd of people. You couldn't see my face, and you didn't know where we were going. But you grabbed my hand to hold on, as I assured you that we were going home. Part one has already been completed. We said, "Let's go!" Now phase two is in the process and you've got to grab my hand and hold on as everyone and everything pushes in around us, forcing separation. The final scene is coming. Where the color comes into the picture. I might turn my back at one point, and you may feel like you can barely breathe, but the color, the life, is coming. At the end, we'll be so close that our smiles will touch. Do you remember?

Pause. Inhale. Exhale.

God is faithful.

Sometimes, I forget this. Sometimes I want to forget and do what I want to do instead. I want to shake my fist at the ceiling and say, Okay, God! Where are You now, hmm?

Oh, the rights I think I have. The truth is, I am a vessel. I can't always choose my voyage, but at least I know the destination. I do decide whether I work to keep up or let myself sink. But a sinking ship was never ordained to be used for His purposes; at least, not when the ship chooses to capsize itself. To walk on water, I must fix my eyes... and my joy.

If there's one thing I'm learning, it's that in His silence there is so much peace. It's hard to recognize and sometimes (a lot of the time) I mistake it for apathy. But the truth is, God is quiet for a reason, and it is when I praise Him despite this that I learn the biggest truths, whether they are about myself, my circumstances, or Him. When I am right with Him, that peace that transcends all understanding is contagious... and I am okay.

For example: it is no secret that I am struggling in college. BUT before you cringe and think I'm about to complain again, just wait. Yes, I am struggling here at Chapel Hill; no, it's not my favorite place to be every day. However, I also could be doing a lot better of a job being joyful in the pit, in the midst of my trial. God never said to stop praising Him when we were in the valley, and that is exactly what I did. I allowed (and still allow) my eyes to settle on the work, the lack of Christian companions, the distance between me and my family and me and Luke, the lies being thrown in my face, etc. etc. This, I am sorry to realize, is exactly what satan wanted. If he couldn't completely screw my faith over in one fell swoop, he was going to make me pity myself and feel as miserable as possible about my circumstances. I have had unending sleepless nights, weight loss, appetite loss, potential depression— why? Because I took my eyes off of Jesus, and put them on myself. My faith took a major detour when God wasn't quick to wave a wand over me and "make it better." What does that say about my knowledge of Him? What does that say of my faith, my hope, my supposedly renewed life? I am thankful for His silence because He knows what I need before I even ask, and I know He will provide. I was told that if I endured this confinement, this maze of uncertainty, and follow Him even when He seems invisible, that all would work for His glory and my joy. Maybe I can't laugh today— but then, I will laugh at His goodness, His mercies. My confidence is in the Lord.

Unfortunately, this doesn't mean I will suddenly wake up tomorrow morning shouting out how much I love Chapel Hill and eagerly bouncing up and down on my way to class, ready to make new friends, oh boy! Ha, naw, but it does mean that my attitude is on the up and up. My joy is in the Lord, not my location. My joy is in the Lord, not my family. My joy is in the Lord, not my accomplishments. My joy is in the Lord, not my boyfriend (though I try to make it that, sometimes, and it only hurts us both). My. Joy. Is. In. The. LORD. He is faithful. Whether I believe that or not does not change that fact that He is faithful. My belief, or lack thereof, does not shape my Father's character, hallelujah! He does not have a self-confidence issue; He does not need me to praise Him to make Him feel better about Himself. He is God. I need HIM— He does not need me.

So tomorrow begins a new day. My mom likes to hang it over my head that I told her a some random point in my weirdo-loser-teenybopper years, "If you can't change a situation, change the way you look at it." I don't know if I believe her— why would I have said such a thing? Regardless, I guess I'll take my own advice. Father, it's just You and me.

If I lost everything... it would be okay.

Blah blah blah.

Today I took my Astronomy midterm. I forgot my calculator, so I guessed on a lot of the questions. I honestly probably failed it. I don't care. I feel bad for not feeling bad.

I'm really having to fight through this fog. There are so many times where I just feel like giving up. It's obvious that I'm not making much progress, as almost everything I've written sounds exactly the same. At least I don't make it public any more.

I lied to my dad about where I was this past weekend. He thought I was at Elon, but I was in Greensboro. I told my mom, who told me that I have to tell my dad. I know I do. I didn't even lie because I didn't want him to know I was there— it was just more convenient at the time to have him think I was at Elon when all the bank stuff was happening that to explain in the midst of it how I ended up being somewhere else.

I wish I cared about something. I wish this apathy would go away and that the sun would somehow make it through to me. Because right now, I can't see anything. And it doesn't even bother me. I'm probably going to have awful grades this semester and it doesn't matter to me. I don't feel uptight or nervous about it. It doesn't shock me. I don't feel the need to improve or work harder. I don't feel anything.

There's got to be something more. There's got to be something more.