You know those moments?

You know those moments when you realize you've said or done something completely ridiculous, ignorant, arrogant, unfair, shallow, unintelligent, basically the very last thing you would ever want to say or do in that situation? They always seem to occur just as I think I have completely conquered an area of my life and am living a life free from susceptibility to that sin. My confidence is high, my pride-plank has taken over my vision, and I'm ready and willing to call everyone else out on their specks, the flaw that I have overcome.

Today I had one of those.

My Sociology teacher made a comment about Paul as someone of poor character. I asked her where her opinion was coming from, and she elaborated, explaining that she meant more specifically Saul, before his conversion. Then, a classmate of mine spoke up--and not just any classmate.

This classmate is that guy. You know the one. He's the most hilarious guy in the class, but has no idea. He's that guy that everyone would be laughing with, not at, if only he knew that he was so amusing. That guy who makes comparisons of everyday objects by likening them to "a battle axe and a reaper." That guy who refers to the Anglo-Saxons as "the ang-el-os." That guy who describes his encounter with Elvis at the mall last weekend, ending his monologue with "and then, we just had a moment." That guy who means well, but never quite catches on--who is by all means as intelligent as anyone else, but in a very different way. Even describing him I feel slightly negative or judgemental, but in all truth my laughter has been in good humor and out of love for who he is, at least until today.

So that guy says to me, as a follow up to my teacher's very self-explanatory, legitimate answer, "Well, you see, he used to stone the CHRISTIANS."

"Thank you, sir, this I realize. I'm not an idiot as you seem to either 1. think me to be or 2. are yourself," is what I was thinking, and to my own surprise is almost exactly what I said.

I think my words were something along the lines of "I know, I read the BIBLE."

Self-righteous, pretentious words with a matching tone was my response, and I could not feel worse.

I am the hypocrite that gives faith in Christ a shallow, self-absorbed facade. My words weren't even particularly clever or biting, and still the moment I closed my mouth I felt horrible.

It was one of those moments that no one else even much noticed or will ever remember, but it was all I could think about all day. His words hardly attacked my literacy or familiarity with scripture and definitely weren't the funniest thing he'd said this semester, and yet I seemed to think it critical to defend myself so cynically. I don't think it even phased the guy, but it revealed a part of my heart and attitudes that I didn't want to believe existed anymore.

I am prideful. So prideful. Especially and ironically most about my humility, about loving others before myself.

I feel broken, but I know it's brokenness over failing, not sinning. It's a blow to that pride ruling my life to know that I messed up today, instead of a blow to my heart to know that I could have hurt someone else and definitely hurt my Savior.

I don't know how to overcome this, and that's just it I'm seeing only now that I'm typing this. I can't overcome it. I think I must have learned this lesson at least once every day of my life for the past few months if not more often. I can't do it. He has to do it. I have to ask Him to do it, come to Him for even the desire to ask Him to do it.

I'm so sorry. Not just because I didn't have enough self-control to hold my tongue, but because of my mindset and of my heart. I'm so sorry for relying on myself, for glorying in myself.

Thank you Abba that I can't do anything on my own.

A tiny prayer to Father Time

"Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord."

I'm waiting. At least, I hope I am waiting. I want to be waiting.


I know I'm too weak to wait, to see, to follow . . .

I want desperately to be in God's will, but I can't trust myself.

I'm so afraid.

: )

This is from the hayloft of the barn on my Granpa's farm. It's not really a farm, meaning no animals have been raised and nothing besides Granpa's vineyard has been grown here in at least twenty years.

This is my favorite place on earth. It is so calming, such a beautiful piece of creation. Being there has some magical effect of always bringing a smile to my face, from the moment the rusty gate swings open to the moment I drive out of sight. I adore it.

God is so good.

I sometimes feel guilty for rejoicing in the times in my life when everything is going well. It often feels like I'm happy about the circumstances instead of the God who is in charge of them all.

On top of that, I am definitely someone that can be so weighed down not by sin itself, as His death assured that sin has no power, but by fear of sin--power that I give it--that when everything is right, when I'm in His will as far as He has shown me, seeking more of Him everyday, and following Him with all of my might, I'm still plagued by anxiety over past failure or the fear of future failure.

Today it was a little more clear to me that I'm just as called to rejoice, and just as wrong not to, in happiness or sadness. When I read Paul's words that "I'm learning to be content whatever the circumstances," I'm led immediately to think that "whatever the circumstances," especially in the context of the poor health and constant political turmoil he endured, certainly is synonymous with "whatever the misery."

I thought that these circumstances must be horrible to necessitate learning to be content, but just as easy as losing joy in Jesus in struggles is being overwhelmed, even in the face of living everyday seeing God's glory, with worry constantly about what could go wrong next. Paul's words read both ways. He says "whatever the circumstances" and "whatever" means just that. I've got to learn to be content in bad times, yes, but also must I actively seek to be content in good times.

I'll never be content with seeing as much of God as I am at any moment, because there is always more of Him to see, but being happy with the plan He has set forth for my life at this moment is not the same as being satisfied with stagnation in my relationship with Him.

And being happy about having everything in place, for a time at least, in my life isn't wrong as long as that joy comes from seeing through the wonderful circumstances to the wonderful God who made it all and gave it all. In fact, the very foundation of my days being so good is that daily I am seeing more of God . . . and knowing that, I can't think of any reason not to rejoice.

Willing

Let all the earth fear the Lord;
Let all the people of the world revere Him.
For He spoke and it came to be;
He commanded and it stood firm.
-Psalm 33: 8-9

I began reading through Pslams chapter by chapter I don't even remember how long ago, and every time I would come upon a verse mentioning "fear of the Lord" I would immediately jump back in apprehension. Why should I be afraid of this amazing God that loves me, that made me and saved me?

While I knew that "fear" didn't mean literal fright, my mind still flew immediately to that conclusion. Even after referencing such passages in concordances and commentaries in an attempt to understand, I came to a definition of "fear" as respect.

Respect.

My understanding of the word "respect" was too simple, too detached, to be able to apply to such an awesome, personal Savior.

And then, even after meditating on the verses and asking God to reveal to me just what it meant to fear Him, I still was left without any real comprehension as I know it to feel. I had no joy over learning a new truth or being able to see Him work it out in my life, and I knew it was because even though I'd read over and over again what fearing God meant, and maybe even understood with my mind, it hadn't clicked in my heart.

Last night it clicked in Pslam 33. Fearing the Lord is knowing Him, purely and simply, and being amazed by what I know, to stand back and say, "Wow, look at all He has done and can do, and more than that, look at who He is."

Where this really took hold in my life is in grasping His power. The next verse in Pslam 33 reads:

The Lord foils the plans of the nations;
He thwarts the purposes of the peoples.
But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever,
The puposes of his heart through all generations.
-Psalm 33: 10-11

It is so easy to look forward to the next stage in my life: graduation, college, marriage, a family, serving God for the rest of my life. While I don't think there's anything wrong with anticipating the great blessings to come in my life, I know that there is something wrong with being so wrapped up in that anticipation that I forget His plan for me RIGHT NOW.

"So, ok. I get it. God has a plan for me right now. Easy enough. I should be satisfied with that plan now until these other things come."

That's what I thought. "Certainly God has something for me to do now. Obviously it's probably not as great as what's coming and definately not as important, but I should be obedient and at least sort of look for whatever it is I've got to do right now so I can get to that better part coming."

And on top of that entirely wrong mindset, I had basically convinced myself that whatever it was God had to do with me in high school and at home, that it was more or less limited to me. He was teaching ME something, preparing ME for the future. My whole outlook was consumed with myself, in part because I was so self absorbed and in part because I failed to truly believe that God could do something big outside of me, in my school or home or town or state or country or world.

The plans of the Lord stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through ALL GENERATIONS.

He has a plan, a fantastic, unfathomable, joyous plan, and not only did it exist long ago, it DOES exist. It WILL ALWAYS exist. Hearing Jason talk about God being up to something big was hard for me to grasp. I had so limited Him by human standards, by my own sins and shortcomings, that I was sure there was no way God could be up to something big where I was. Somewhere else? sure. Anywhere I could see and experience firsthand? I just didn't believe it. I knew it, but I didn't believe it. Last night I realized that difference as well.

God is SO much bigger than me. Jesus died for my iniquity, and in His death put to death the hold of sin over my life. Why then do I so hang onto it as reason that God can't work through me? Or that He can't work through any sinner only willing to give his or her life to Him?


So what now, right? If I'm filled with such a fear for God, and I believe that He can and is doing something huge, and that He could and does want to use me, then how? When? Where?

Fear the Lord, you His saints,
for those who fear Him lack nothing.
- Psalm 34: 9

Nothing. They lack nothing. My part is to seek Him, to pray for that desire to seek Him and to work with all of my heart and soul and mind and strength to recieve that desire for and joy in Him that only He can give. If I could do any of it on my own, to who would the glory be? Myself. Praise God that the power and the glory aren't mind, that I don't know when and where and how, only that He is up to something gigantic, and that He provides everything I could ever need, if I only am willing.

Blessed Assurance

It is so reassuring to me to come before God in His word expecting that day specifically to read and hear only what is on my mind that day, be it to receive guidance and conviction for a struggle, or to pray His words in praise, or to find fresh insight into a complicated truth, and instead to be surprised by exactly what He would have that day, not what I thought I needed.

It's reassuring to know that I am not searching alone. If I was, I would see only what I could look for.

It's reassuring to be reminded once again that His plan is so much bigger, so much better, so much more perfect and glorious and joy-giving than mine could ever be.



Tonight I read from Luke 7 the story of the faith of the centurion, and then of Jesus raising a widow's son.

He was not far from the house when the centurion sent friends to say to him: "Lord, don't trouble yourself, for I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. 7That is why I did not even consider myself worthy to come to you. But say the word, and my servant will be healed. 8For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, 'Go,' and he goes; and that one, 'Come,' and he comes. I say to my servant, 'Do this,' and he does it."

9When Jesus heard this, he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd following him, he said, "I tell you, I have not found such great faith even in Israel." 10Then the men who had been sent returned to the house and found the servant well.

I feel so small at the absolute power and overwhelming authority of God. Everything is under His hand. With but a word He commands it all. How small are my worries in the sight of God.. how insignificant, how trivial.. and still He can speak and make all right, praise the Lord not right as I would have it be, but as He would.

13When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, "Don't cry."

14Then he went up and touched the coffin, and those carrying it stood still. He said, "Young man, I say to you, get up!" 15The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother.

How fantastic is Christ's mercy, how wide, how deep.. in the ultimate act of grace He gave His life for my sin, that I might see and rejoice in the glory of God, and in the smallest, most tender moment He wipes away a woman's tears. What stood out most in this passage to me was that as Jesus performed the amazing miracle of raising a man from death, still He takes the care to take the boy and return him to His mother's arms. The phrase "tender mercies" never meant so much to me.



This evening I found Christ's character.. in His authority in all things and faithfulness in my life, in His tender mercy.. when I instead wanted to find direct words of relief from worry and fear, that everything would be "ok" as I wanted it.. and how wonderfully so. Everyday it seems I find myself lost in myself. Every night I go to sleep with His peace transcending my heart and mind, and wake up fearful again. Everday I look for comfort in myself, in others, in scripture as I would like it to say, and everday I relearn the same basic truth: in Christ's character is my peace.

Tanka (4/06)

I once thought I could
Hold your whole world in my hands
Now I know I can
Not because I'm so special
But because your world's so small

"So this is the New Year," as the saying goes

But I do feel different.

In 2007 I hope to read more books
To spend more time in creation
Dancing
Playing basketball, however horribly

And to smile more often

In 2007 I hope to be more punctual
And more dependable

I hope to fill my life with people I respect
And to filter out the values and priorities of modern American culture
In favor of the things of God

I hope to take myself a lot less seriously

I hope to speak less and listen more

I hope to learn the value of simplicity, silence, and spontenaiety

And to write as one with honest struggles
Rather than one with aspirations of inspiration

I hope finally to turn my focus outside of myself
And to find strength and purpose for all of these things
And for my entire life
In the joy of brokeness in Jesus Christ