me: i just want to be a part of my church community again
G: "A" church community again
G: any community can become yours
me: yeah
me: but ive been resisting joining up with the church here (getting to know them better, etc) because of what i long for in atl
G: mm yea I feel you
G: how about a new perspective?
you long for what you had in JCA, right?
but perhaps that was only beneficial with what you were going through at the time
just think: what if the community you have available is what God wants to bless you with NOW in THIS stage of your life, and you're not doing it?
if you pine for JCA, and JCA is not what you need, you will only become bitter and depressed
You're too wonderful to be BAD (Bitter And Depressed)
me: .....
me: i hear you, but i dont want to
G: I know dear
G: *hug*
Sunday, 24 October 2010
Thursday, 7 October 2010
funnel
"What our world often witnesses today is a devoted, committed Christian or a church serving God. But they are not seeing God. They don't see anything happening that can be explained only in terms of God's activity. Why? Because we are not attempting anything that only God can do.
Our world is not being attracted to the Christ we serve because they are not seeing Him at work in our lives. They see us doing good things for God and comment "That's nice, but it's not my thing." The world is passing us by because they do not want to get involved in what they see in our lives. We are not giving them opportunities to encounter God. They are seeing only us. Let the world watch God at work, and He will attract people to Himself.
Let Christ be lifted up, not in words but in life.
Let people see the difference the living Christ makes in a life, a family, or a church; that will affect how they respond to the gospel.
When the world sees things happening through God's people that cannot be explained except that God Himself has done them, the world will be drawn to such a God."
Our world is not being attracted to the Christ we serve because they are not seeing Him at work in our lives. They see us doing good things for God and comment "That's nice, but it's not my thing." The world is passing us by because they do not want to get involved in what they see in our lives. We are not giving them opportunities to encounter God. They are seeing only us. Let the world watch God at work, and He will attract people to Himself.
Let Christ be lifted up, not in words but in life.
Let people see the difference the living Christ makes in a life, a family, or a church; that will affect how they respond to the gospel.
When the world sees things happening through God's people that cannot be explained except that God Himself has done them, the world will be drawn to such a God."
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Thursday, 16 September 2010
midnight oil
I finished two papers last night.
Two.
No, I have not slept in my bed in two nights.
Yes, there was one class casualty (twas my first! And hopefully my last).
Yes, my room looks like someone was playing hopscotch with a jackhammer.
Yes, in some senses, I brought it upon myself.
But I finished.
And I don't feel any more tired than I usually do.
I waited for you, Lord....yet your strength found me first.
I'm not who I was. God is changing me. This is a truth that I never remember without a struggle, but it's such a core concept. Whenever I slip into old thought processes, old sneaky habits that even my closest sisters don't know all about....my conscience and my rationale both heave a collective sigh. They sit around and wait for me to have my fun. I feel their low expectations and I cringe and cower. I am embarrassed by my weaknesses, like a 5-year-old who just can't figure out how to tie their shoes.
But...I am better. I have grown. The concept of our bad habits playing out like a recursive loop is a lie from Satan...but as Claudia said when we were discussing this, Satan is not very creative. God is hugging and molding every curve and crack in me, carving me into his likeness....and I know He likes what He sees. I know this because I see Him doing the same thing in my friends, and it is truly breathtaking.
I'm going to clean my room now, do some work, maybe watch a movie. Maybe I'll postpone the middle objective till the morning (no Friday classes, teehee).
I feel stronger now, maybe I won't two hours from now. Honestly, who needs shoelaces, anyway? Barefoot is the only way to dance with my Father.
Two.
No, I have not slept in my bed in two nights.
Yes, there was one class casualty (twas my first! And hopefully my last).
Yes, my room looks like someone was playing hopscotch with a jackhammer.
Yes, in some senses, I brought it upon myself.
But I finished.
And I don't feel any more tired than I usually do.
I waited for you, Lord....yet your strength found me first.
I'm not who I was. God is changing me. This is a truth that I never remember without a struggle, but it's such a core concept. Whenever I slip into old thought processes, old sneaky habits that even my closest sisters don't know all about....my conscience and my rationale both heave a collective sigh. They sit around and wait for me to have my fun. I feel their low expectations and I cringe and cower. I am embarrassed by my weaknesses, like a 5-year-old who just can't figure out how to tie their shoes.
But...I am better. I have grown. The concept of our bad habits playing out like a recursive loop is a lie from Satan...but as Claudia said when we were discussing this, Satan is not very creative. God is hugging and molding every curve and crack in me, carving me into his likeness....and I know He likes what He sees. I know this because I see Him doing the same thing in my friends, and it is truly breathtaking.
I'm going to clean my room now, do some work, maybe watch a movie. Maybe I'll postpone the middle objective till the morning (no Friday classes, teehee).
I feel stronger now, maybe I won't two hours from now. Honestly, who needs shoelaces, anyway? Barefoot is the only way to dance with my Father.
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
runs in the fam
My aunt's a G...a local celebrity...
...in Nebraska.
(just kidding, Auntie Wandi)
Check out her thoughts on interracial marriage.
...in Nebraska.
(just kidding, Auntie Wandi)
Check out her thoughts on interracial marriage.
Friday, 27 August 2010
If time is money
I'm a bleeping millionaire.
I squandered an entire day and I still have ample time to do homework. What is this?
I need some friends...
...but then I'd have to dole out some of my new currency to benefit someone else.
Philanthropy tomorrow, miserly time-hoarding today!
(pray for me)
I squandered an entire day and I still have ample time to do homework. What is this?
I need some friends...
...but then I'd have to dole out some of my new currency to benefit someone else.
Philanthropy tomorrow, miserly time-hoarding today!
(pray for me)
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
where
Here I am in Athens, GA, 88.5 miles away from my house, the farthest distance that I have ever set up shop from my family. I can't say that I am eaten up with remorse from my decision to leave home, but it is also the first week. It's so surreal to me that I have made a committment to be here for a year and a half, even crazier that I'm thinking about extending that time to work on a PhD. Nothing is permanent nor set in stone, and considering that I only decided to start UGA in the fall 3 weeks ago, I know that anything could happen between now and then. Still, I find myself getting restless here. Although it's a new adventure, new place, etc., I still see myself getting bored. So I am now asking myself, what do I want?
I want to go "away", but I'm here. I want to serve, but I am lazy. I'm starting to think that there's not one place where I can go that my laziness doesn't cosign on my lease. I don't know what I want, but I am starting to understand that wanderlust is not godly...God is Godly. I can desire to go to Athens, Timbuktu, or Kalamazoo for God, but this desire is still in need of redemption. So what, then, is my "mission"? I know it's happening now, but am I missing it? Is it over the 15.4 inch screen of my laptop and across the room? Is it in the study lounge with me?
I have felt so anti-social, but I know feeling "social" is not what I want, either. I guess I want to be open and put in places where I am being used. But at the same time, I have to see the value of character building while I'm here, achieving the mission in my own life. IE, studying without accountability, sleeping at a decent hour, reducing my Hulu hours. I guess I could start my internet reduction by ending this post.
But not before I say calllll meeeeeee
I want to go "away", but I'm here. I want to serve, but I am lazy. I'm starting to think that there's not one place where I can go that my laziness doesn't cosign on my lease. I don't know what I want, but I am starting to understand that wanderlust is not godly...God is Godly. I can desire to go to Athens, Timbuktu, or Kalamazoo for God, but this desire is still in need of redemption. So what, then, is my "mission"? I know it's happening now, but am I missing it? Is it over the 15.4 inch screen of my laptop and across the room? Is it in the study lounge with me?
I have felt so anti-social, but I know feeling "social" is not what I want, either. I guess I want to be open and put in places where I am being used. But at the same time, I have to see the value of character building while I'm here, achieving the mission in my own life. IE, studying without accountability, sleeping at a decent hour, reducing my Hulu hours. I guess I could start my internet reduction by ending this post.
But not before I say calllll meeeeeee
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
()
take my feet
arch them as you please
banish the memories
torch the steps
and melt this rain dance into a waltz
arch them as you please
banish the memories
torch the steps
and melt this rain dance into a waltz
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
icebox
The only words that I feel like writing these days already have owners and organizers, and I just put them on lease in my respective journals, blogs, and mutterings. I'm trying not to write about things that I only kind of care about, or about what I think will make an interesting story. Also, I'm trying to reduce the amount of "I" posts, i.e. the i'msomusingandmysterioussomeonelovemyemoself posts. Hence my draft to published post count has maintained a consistent 3-1 ratio, and I don't know if that will ever change.
We have a room-sized freezer in our lab where we store miscellaneous life things that we need. The door is huge, the temperature difference is huge, and the first time experience can be daunting (especially when a more experienced lab person pretends like there's no way out once the door closes, a favorite trick of mine). I used to run in and run out immediately, accomplishing my errand before the drastic weather change affected my mental state. But as the days have gotten longer and warmer I relish my time in the coolest place on campus. The regular temperature is 35 degrees F, which feels much colder inside during the summer days. I love the paper thinness of the air, the refreshing familiarity of the cold as it provides respite and preserves the life forces under our care. Once I have stayed in there for a while I am not wrapping myself in my lab coat anymore, and although I see the evidence of the frigid state in the frosted film overtaking everything, I feel comfortable. It's as though I have to reach out and touch something in the room to remind me where I am. It's like I've found an unorthodox home state.
I breath the same paper thin air when I step onto the MARTA train, or when I walk around Wal-Mart, or when I drive around downtown, or when I stay at home long enough. I think there's an inversion of logic here, though: It's possible that these harsh conditions are the normal, but I attempt to insulate myself in 70 degree boxes, an endeavor at which I have notably succeeded. Dashing in and out of this world, staring at it through a window, strategizing an exit plan...that's not the Gospel. Standing still long enough for your heart to break is not the end, either. It seeing the frosted dirt as beautiful, it's praying for the eyes to see this way. It's the ownership of and the covenant with the fat, the loud, the uncouth, the offensive, the ungrateful, the unjustified; these become our kin. It's understanding that God is most glorified, his Spirit is the most preserved in the cold and dry, and we can work the best under these conditions. It's setting up shop so that these harsh truths seep into your skin and alter your definition of beauty, of good news, of home. It's a slow but steady destruction of comfort. It's the yearning for redemption in the end but the ability to see it in the middle, in the in between. It's breathing in shards of ice and pain and breathing out Eternity.
We have a room-sized freezer in our lab where we store miscellaneous life things that we need. The door is huge, the temperature difference is huge, and the first time experience can be daunting (especially when a more experienced lab person pretends like there's no way out once the door closes, a favorite trick of mine). I used to run in and run out immediately, accomplishing my errand before the drastic weather change affected my mental state. But as the days have gotten longer and warmer I relish my time in the coolest place on campus. The regular temperature is 35 degrees F, which feels much colder inside during the summer days. I love the paper thinness of the air, the refreshing familiarity of the cold as it provides respite and preserves the life forces under our care. Once I have stayed in there for a while I am not wrapping myself in my lab coat anymore, and although I see the evidence of the frigid state in the frosted film overtaking everything, I feel comfortable. It's as though I have to reach out and touch something in the room to remind me where I am. It's like I've found an unorthodox home state.
I breath the same paper thin air when I step onto the MARTA train, or when I walk around Wal-Mart, or when I drive around downtown, or when I stay at home long enough. I think there's an inversion of logic here, though: It's possible that these harsh conditions are the normal, but I attempt to insulate myself in 70 degree boxes, an endeavor at which I have notably succeeded. Dashing in and out of this world, staring at it through a window, strategizing an exit plan...that's not the Gospel. Standing still long enough for your heart to break is not the end, either. It seeing the frosted dirt as beautiful, it's praying for the eyes to see this way. It's the ownership of and the covenant with the fat, the loud, the uncouth, the offensive, the ungrateful, the unjustified; these become our kin. It's understanding that God is most glorified, his Spirit is the most preserved in the cold and dry, and we can work the best under these conditions. It's setting up shop so that these harsh truths seep into your skin and alter your definition of beauty, of good news, of home. It's a slow but steady destruction of comfort. It's the yearning for redemption in the end but the ability to see it in the middle, in the in between. It's breathing in shards of ice and pain and breathing out Eternity.
Monday, 19 July 2010
revamp
"Never make a principle out of your experience; let God be as original with other people as He is with you."
~Oswald Chambers
As a long-winded, teaching-oriented, ex-bible study leader who always has a ditty for everything....I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this. Help?
~Oswald Chambers
As a long-winded, teaching-oriented, ex-bible study leader who always has a ditty for everything....I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this. Help?
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
consider
Jury duty?
Seriously?
Yes, I know I deferred several months ago, thinking that I would be smart enough to send in the right form at the right time stating that I am a student,therefore I am impervious to the inconveniences caused by civic duty. Unfortunately I can spell procrastination better than I can spell affidavit, so here I am.
Drone on, cheap county video that defends the idea that jury duty is a "privilege", not a burden. I'm sure you just convinced the 400+ people here in this one room that dodging Atlanta traffic, missing work and other things to potentially provide 1/12 of a judgment call on someone else's problem is undoubtedly the best way to spend a day.
Oh well...I'm sure I'll get sent home. That's good, I have to go to lab, it's our busiest week. It'll work out.
TAM-ERR-UH Johnson? That's me, more or less...
Cool, there are 35 other people with my fate, they only need 12...I like my odds.
So, why did the judge just call my name?
Statistics, you have failed me.
Well, at least the trial will only last toda--did he just 2-3 days?
OK, my boss may be a bit pissed since this is my first day on our new project.
OK, I will be missing a physics lab...thank God we can drop one.
OK, I'm going to be missing class, lab, and life.
OK, I'm a little upset.
Alright, I survived the 5 hours of court today. I'm pretty sure the judge saw me dozing, don't know how I'm going to pull off this alertness thing for 7 hours tomorrow. Now what do I do? I want to be, need to be in lab with the firs and the grasses! I would prefer not to miss my one class in the summer. I would rather roast outside in the 100 degree weather than roast under the tension of expensive arguments.
Blurrrgggg
OK, I'm at Tech now, I can just meet with my physics professor and sort everything out. He's a pretty reasonable guy, and it would be better to show my face than to email him. He usually stays late, and it's just 5:30.
Little Post-It note, innocently hanging on Dr. Murray's door, thank you for being the straw that broke the camel's back.
I'm Frustrateddazedperplexedtiredoverwhelmed and I don't know how to stop.
Just another situation out of my control, another situation that's all my fault.
Just another stressor, just another addition to the summer of bizarre.
What is this written in the cement? Crazy vandals, always ruining our new construction projects on campus. What does it say?
CONSIDER IT JOY
Come again, sidewalk?
CONSIDER IT JOY
....
......
........
Well played, Author and Finisher person.
Well played, You who are in the sky and also here on the gravelled ground.
Well played, You whose love is often inconvenient.
Well played, You who created domesticity, physics, Frasier firs, fellow jurors, and Post-it notes.
Well played.
Seriously?
Yes, I know I deferred several months ago, thinking that I would be smart enough to send in the right form at the right time stating that I am a student,therefore I am impervious to the inconveniences caused by civic duty. Unfortunately I can spell procrastination better than I can spell affidavit, so here I am.
Drone on, cheap county video that defends the idea that jury duty is a "privilege", not a burden. I'm sure you just convinced the 400+ people here in this one room that dodging Atlanta traffic, missing work and other things to potentially provide 1/12 of a judgment call on someone else's problem is undoubtedly the best way to spend a day.
Oh well...I'm sure I'll get sent home. That's good, I have to go to lab, it's our busiest week. It'll work out.
TAM-ERR-UH Johnson? That's me, more or less...
Cool, there are 35 other people with my fate, they only need 12...I like my odds.
So, why did the judge just call my name?
Statistics, you have failed me.
Well, at least the trial will only last toda--did he just 2-3 days?
OK, my boss may be a bit pissed since this is my first day on our new project.
OK, I will be missing a physics lab...thank God we can drop one.
OK, I'm going to be missing class, lab, and life.
OK, I'm a little upset.
Alright, I survived the 5 hours of court today. I'm pretty sure the judge saw me dozing, don't know how I'm going to pull off this alertness thing for 7 hours tomorrow. Now what do I do? I want to be, need to be in lab with the firs and the grasses! I would prefer not to miss my one class in the summer. I would rather roast outside in the 100 degree weather than roast under the tension of expensive arguments.
Blurrrgggg
OK, I'm at Tech now, I can just meet with my physics professor and sort everything out. He's a pretty reasonable guy, and it would be better to show my face than to email him. He usually stays late, and it's just 5:30.
Had to leave early. See you tomorrow. ~EM
Little Post-It note, innocently hanging on Dr. Murray's door, thank you for being the straw that broke the camel's back.
I'm Frustrateddazedperplexedtiredoverwhelmed and I don't know how to stop.
Just another situation out of my control, another situation that's all my fault.
Just another stressor, just another addition to the summer of bizarre.
What is this written in the cement? Crazy vandals, always ruining our new construction projects on campus. What does it say?
CONSIDER IT JOY
Come again, sidewalk?
CONSIDER IT JOY
....
......
........
Well played, Author and Finisher person.
Well played, You who are in the sky and also here on the gravelled ground.
Well played, You whose love is often inconvenient.
Well played, You who created domesticity, physics, Frasier firs, fellow jurors, and Post-it notes.
Well played.
Thursday, 1 July 2010
the present
consuming eclairs and ciders with my bros
eating cheesecake at a restaurant that tastes like it's been in the fridge for 3 years
watching too many movies and fulfilling too few deadlines
talking about nothing and everything with someone who inadvertently helped shaped my worldview
sweating while trekking across campus, showing up to every meeting looking like a wet dog
carrying an umbrella and being able to use it before the end of the day
being with friends who make you laugh from your core, and realizing that they love you, too
youtubing songs over and over again before realizing they are illegal download-worthy
going to flying biscuit entirely too many times
eating out entirely too many times
eating
talking to my besties through phone, gchat, email
talking to my besties in person
thinking of clever lines but never having paper to put them in existence
watching my subject-verb agreement slip down the drain
shopping
riding on MARTA and learning the faces of Atlantans
my friends' handwriting
finding out that it takes an entire village to graduate
realizing that the entire village is just as happy as I am to graduate
wearing sweats over shorts in lab to expose my ankles for the world to see
crying and laughing in the same conversation
allowing myself to be scared, emotional, even out-of-sorts about things in life
acknowledging that I'm not as cool as I think I am
living out the long-term in long-term friendships
witty phrases
30 rock
double-jointedness
old letters
heaven is truly in the simple things.
eating cheesecake at a restaurant that tastes like it's been in the fridge for 3 years
watching too many movies and fulfilling too few deadlines
talking about nothing and everything with someone who inadvertently helped shaped my worldview
sweating while trekking across campus, showing up to every meeting looking like a wet dog
carrying an umbrella and being able to use it before the end of the day
being with friends who make you laugh from your core, and realizing that they love you, too
youtubing songs over and over again before realizing they are illegal download-worthy
going to flying biscuit entirely too many times
eating out entirely too many times
eating
talking to my besties through phone, gchat, email
talking to my besties in person
thinking of clever lines but never having paper to put them in existence
watching my subject-verb agreement slip down the drain
shopping
riding on MARTA and learning the faces of Atlantans
my friends' handwriting
finding out that it takes an entire village to graduate
realizing that the entire village is just as happy as I am to graduate
wearing sweats over shorts in lab to expose my ankles for the world to see
crying and laughing in the same conversation
allowing myself to be scared, emotional, even out-of-sorts about things in life
acknowledging that I'm not as cool as I think I am
living out the long-term in long-term friendships
witty phrases
30 rock
double-jointedness
old letters
heaven is truly in the simple things.
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
So they drew near to the village to which they were going. He acted as if he were going farther, but they urged him strongly, saying, "Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent." So he went in to stay with them. When he was at table with them, he took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them. And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, "Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?"
"Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?"
"Didn't we feel on fire as he conversed with us on the road, as he opened up the Scriptures for us?"
Didn't we?
"Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?"
"Didn't we feel on fire as he conversed with us on the road, as he opened up the Scriptures for us?"
Didn't we?
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
focus
I can't do it!
I just want to sit around until I feel all right. I want to be swallowed up by the possibilities, consumed by my crossroads. I wish my decisions were a bit more fluid so that they could at least guide me without much effort on my part.
I want to give my feelings less credit than they demand.
I just want to sit around until I feel all right. I want to be swallowed up by the possibilities, consumed by my crossroads. I wish my decisions were a bit more fluid so that they could at least guide me without much effort on my part.
I want to give my feelings less credit than they demand.
Monday, 3 May 2010
Sunday, 25 April 2010
holding hands in june
Here is my summer 2010 soundtrack.
There are a lot of oldies, one hidden track, and many more Britpop songs than anticipated.
I tried to put the songs in a certain order, but it zipped alphabetically. Also, I tried including "Drops of Jupiter" in there, but it is protected, and I am to lazy to change the file....so sorry about that lack of track. It's a goodun, download it yourself :D
List of songs in the order that I initially desired:
Summer--India.Arie
Crooked Teeth--Death Cab for Cutie
3x5--John Mayer
Dance Anthem of the 80s--Regina Spektor
Chicago--Sufjan Stevens
Foux du Fa Fa--Flight of the Conchords
Constellations--Jack Johnson
Dog Days are Over--Florence and the Machine
Lovers in Japan/Reign of Love--Coldplay
Mexican Wine--Fountains of Wayne
In the Aeroplane over the Sea--Neutral Milk Hotel
Put Your Records On--Corinne Bailey Rae
Middle of Nowhere--Hot Hot Heat
Nightingale--Norah Jones
Happiness--Goldfrapp
Mushaboom--Feist
No Rain--Blind Melon
No Worries--Mcfly
Smiley Faces--Gnarls Barkley
Drops of Jupiter--Train --sorry, no bueno
Wouldn't it Be Nice--The Beach Boys
Happy Summer!
Sunday, 18 April 2010
so close
"I've always felt like there was something about you."
"Something like what?"
"I don't know what it is, I don't even know what I mean...but I have always thought, ever since the first day that you walked into my office that there was something....something to you."
Yes, well.
Welcome to the quest.
Through my involuntary breakdowns I have felt nearer to that mirage. Like my soul has finally found a way into the deep recesses of my psyche only to find what is not there. I have hit a fragile wall, a fire behind glass.
Do I yearn for the heat or for the fire?
"Something like what?"
"I don't know what it is, I don't even know what I mean...but I have always thought, ever since the first day that you walked into my office that there was something....something to you."
Yes, well.
Welcome to the quest.
Through my involuntary breakdowns I have felt nearer to that mirage. Like my soul has finally found a way into the deep recesses of my psyche only to find what is not there. I have hit a fragile wall, a fire behind glass.
Do I yearn for the heat or for the fire?
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
get well soon, adlai
"The main objective of a good bass player is to not be noticed."
Can I honestly say that?
Or do I have to be heard, have to be seen?
Can I integrate my contribution to the final number seamlessly, or are solos my only specialty? Are my notes an enrichment of the true song? Or do they fight to be the only sound heard?
With every offering, I am significant. I am special. This ensemble would be completely different without what I bring to the stage.
But a warped neck and a popped string serve as good reminders that it is not about me.
Can I honestly say that?
Or do I have to be heard, have to be seen?
Can I integrate my contribution to the final number seamlessly, or are solos my only specialty? Are my notes an enrichment of the true song? Or do they fight to be the only sound heard?
With every offering, I am significant. I am special. This ensemble would be completely different without what I bring to the stage.
But a warped neck and a popped string serve as good reminders that it is not about me.
Saturday, 10 April 2010
it will
Hear a newborn baby cry
Hear the farmers pray for rain
One more soldier gives his life
A homeless man begs for change
But change won't come easily
What does this have to do with me?
And my heart pounds with a thunder
And I stop and wonder
What should we do with life's surprises?
Everyday the sun rises on us!
Like a swing set in a graveyard,
Like a bloom in the desert sands
Look at my trembling hands!
'Cause it hits me like lightning
That love must keep fighting
And somehow, every time
Love is gonna break through
~Chris Rice
Hear the farmers pray for rain
One more soldier gives his life
A homeless man begs for change
But change won't come easily
What does this have to do with me?
And my heart pounds with a thunder
And I stop and wonder
What should we do with life's surprises?
Everyday the sun rises on us!
Like a swing set in a graveyard,
Like a bloom in the desert sands
Look at my trembling hands!
'Cause it hits me like lightning
That love must keep fighting
And somehow, every time
Love is gonna break through
~Chris Rice
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
blind sided
Over the past few months or so I have been bombarded with different stories of Christian leaders falling into very public sins. Stories of pastors cheating on their wives or vice versa, priests in the Catholic church getting involved with sexual scandals, Christian artists getting involved with each others' spouses in not-so-melodic love triangles...sadly, the list goes on. And part of me knows in the years to come it will continue to expand.
I see these controversies on a large scale, and then I think about myself as a leader in the church on a much smaller scale. I do not pastor or shepherd a congregation...but I have had 12-15 people under my charge every Tuesday night for the past few months. I will probably never write a song that is sung all over the world, blessing the hearts of millions...but I use my mouth to speak life into the people around me on a daily basis. Even if I did not have the title "Family Group Leader", there is still a responsibility to higher living that I have been called to do as an older sister, an older Christian. Meditating on life over these months, I can come up with a fairly sizeable list of my own personal scandals. These character tests I failed, whether it was a subtle recurring thought here or a quiet omission of deed there. Oftentimes the only person that knew about these transgressions was me. What scares me more is that I usually only realized my failure in retrospect. This means that in my busyness I tricked myself into satisfaction, into complacency, into settling where I was.
I have left my heart out, and mold and grime has creeped its way in.
I guess I have been waiting for my big public infraction to emerge before I do any serious deep cleansing. I have subconsciously quantified my sins, allowing offenses that registered lower on my spectrum much more grace than I am allowed to give. Speaking of grace...that has been my punching bag, my neglected friend that I only acknowledge when I need something. I know the point is not to realize how much I suck. But for me to not police myself, to not ask God regularly for checks and balances behind closed doors--I might as well gorge myself on donuts because I reason that at least I'm not gorging on bacon.
I don't know what to do other than ask for forgiveness. I want to humble myself, even in the midst of having a title and/or respect from others. I want my private life to be even more holy than my public life. I want to listen to the cry of my own heart, of this creation that is yet groaning for sanctification. I want to know that God is answering this cry, even when I do not hear it. I want this tension between myself and my God to be something that I engage in actively, where I consistently check my nooks and crannies for intruders.
I want to be hollowed by the Hallowed.
*Remember me, O my God, for good.*
~Nehemiah
I see these controversies on a large scale, and then I think about myself as a leader in the church on a much smaller scale. I do not pastor or shepherd a congregation...but I have had 12-15 people under my charge every Tuesday night for the past few months. I will probably never write a song that is sung all over the world, blessing the hearts of millions...but I use my mouth to speak life into the people around me on a daily basis. Even if I did not have the title "Family Group Leader", there is still a responsibility to higher living that I have been called to do as an older sister, an older Christian. Meditating on life over these months, I can come up with a fairly sizeable list of my own personal scandals. These character tests I failed, whether it was a subtle recurring thought here or a quiet omission of deed there. Oftentimes the only person that knew about these transgressions was me. What scares me more is that I usually only realized my failure in retrospect. This means that in my busyness I tricked myself into satisfaction, into complacency, into settling where I was.
I have left my heart out, and mold and grime has creeped its way in.
I guess I have been waiting for my big public infraction to emerge before I do any serious deep cleansing. I have subconsciously quantified my sins, allowing offenses that registered lower on my spectrum much more grace than I am allowed to give. Speaking of grace...that has been my punching bag, my neglected friend that I only acknowledge when I need something. I know the point is not to realize how much I suck. But for me to not police myself, to not ask God regularly for checks and balances behind closed doors--I might as well gorge myself on donuts because I reason that at least I'm not gorging on bacon.
I don't know what to do other than ask for forgiveness. I want to humble myself, even in the midst of having a title and/or respect from others. I want my private life to be even more holy than my public life. I want to listen to the cry of my own heart, of this creation that is yet groaning for sanctification. I want to know that God is answering this cry, even when I do not hear it. I want this tension between myself and my God to be something that I engage in actively, where I consistently check my nooks and crannies for intruders.
I want to be hollowed by the Hallowed.
*Remember me, O my God, for good.*
~Nehemiah
pressure
Lately I have felt
nudged
encouraged
commanded
demanded
pressed
reminded
mandated
brainwashed
obligated
indoctrinated
compelled
enticed
tempted
but never called
to love that way.
nudged
encouraged
commanded
demanded
pressed
reminded
mandated
brainwashed
obligated
indoctrinated
compelled
enticed
tempted
but never called
to love that way.
Monday, 29 March 2010
the jig is up
I like hugs.
And people.
And hand-holding.
And kisses, too.
I know that I have said for the longest time that I am not stimulated by touch, that it is not a way that I receive love, and all of my adult life I really have believed it. I yet hold this position, but with much modification. I think after much introspection that I have come to the right compromising conclusion, and I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in this conviction.
Physical affection that is insincere leaves me with a feeling akin to touching wet trash.
My quest for honesty at all costs leaves me with a very small window of tolerance for what I accept. My standards for this type of intimacy can be quite unreasonable, I'll admit. But after much thought I can venture that one reason for my funk a while ago was because I have carried on as though I do not need people. With my lack of a cell phone I tried to ignore the pang in my heart that activated every time I thought of someone to call, and then I remembered my plight. Brushing off those feelings came at the expense of my sanity this semester, or lack thereof. What a humbling experience.
I find that I shy away from physical affection because I always have. It is hard for me to open up that part of my love, to let people in and handle it as they will. I am still under the idea that I do not like frivolous, afterthinking touch...but by completely refusing this form of love I am essentially throwing out the baby with the bathwater.
I may be yearning for the affection that I took for granted up until 10 months ago, gestures that were as sincere last May as they were the day that I was born. It is possible that my high standards are derived from experiencing contact that was a physical manifestation of love so pure that it could only be true. Maybe I'm under the impression that I will never experience this again. Maybe I think I'm right. Maybe I am.
I miss that love, so I take an indignant stance against anything that dimly reflects what I once had. I sit in the corner and sulk, but I think my stubborness is beginning to fall away. With each brush of the hand, with each caress, with each embrace, my defense is melting. I am forced to relent, to collapse, to surrender. I am forced to acknowledge my need for God's grace in the form of His people.
And people.
And hand-holding.
And kisses, too.
I know that I have said for the longest time that I am not stimulated by touch, that it is not a way that I receive love, and all of my adult life I really have believed it. I yet hold this position, but with much modification. I think after much introspection that I have come to the right compromising conclusion, and I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in this conviction.
Physical affection that is insincere leaves me with a feeling akin to touching wet trash.
My quest for honesty at all costs leaves me with a very small window of tolerance for what I accept. My standards for this type of intimacy can be quite unreasonable, I'll admit. But after much thought I can venture that one reason for my funk a while ago was because I have carried on as though I do not need people. With my lack of a cell phone I tried to ignore the pang in my heart that activated every time I thought of someone to call, and then I remembered my plight. Brushing off those feelings came at the expense of my sanity this semester, or lack thereof. What a humbling experience.
I find that I shy away from physical affection because I always have. It is hard for me to open up that part of my love, to let people in and handle it as they will. I am still under the idea that I do not like frivolous, afterthinking touch...but by completely refusing this form of love I am essentially throwing out the baby with the bathwater.
I may be yearning for the affection that I took for granted up until 10 months ago, gestures that were as sincere last May as they were the day that I was born. It is possible that my high standards are derived from experiencing contact that was a physical manifestation of love so pure that it could only be true. Maybe I'm under the impression that I will never experience this again. Maybe I think I'm right. Maybe I am.
I miss that love, so I take an indignant stance against anything that dimly reflects what I once had. I sit in the corner and sulk, but I think my stubborness is beginning to fall away. With each brush of the hand, with each caress, with each embrace, my defense is melting. I am forced to relent, to collapse, to surrender. I am forced to acknowledge my need for God's grace in the form of His people.
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
in like a lion
Coz when it's always winter, but never Christmas,
It seems this curse just can't be lifted
I never thought that I would be able to physically relate to the Relient K song, speaking as a native Georgian who has been spoiled by fickle seasons. I never thought I liked the inconsistencies of 60 degree Januaries....until this year. Never have I ever seen Georgia so resolute in its frigidity! Three snowfalls?!?! I have heard about it before, but I never thought it was possible to experience snow on the ground more than once a year, for more than a day at a time. I took the sporadic summer-y days for granted, even wished them away in the hopes of experiencing a legitimate and consistent winter season. Now that my complaint was filed and processed by Mother Nature, I wish that they had a return policy on requests for greener grass.
This sucks.
It stinks especially since, as the South gets the hang of these colder days, there is no hope for respite in the particular form of snow days at Tech. As we trudge along in the freezing water I am embittered.
Make it stop, God! Warm me up, thaw this world out.
And then I wonder, as I pray this prayer....am I even talking about the weather anymore?
But deep inside our hearts we know
That you are here and we will not lose hope
It seems this curse just can't be lifted
I never thought that I would be able to physically relate to the Relient K song, speaking as a native Georgian who has been spoiled by fickle seasons. I never thought I liked the inconsistencies of 60 degree Januaries....until this year. Never have I ever seen Georgia so resolute in its frigidity! Three snowfalls?!?! I have heard about it before, but I never thought it was possible to experience snow on the ground more than once a year, for more than a day at a time. I took the sporadic summer-y days for granted, even wished them away in the hopes of experiencing a legitimate and consistent winter season. Now that my complaint was filed and processed by Mother Nature, I wish that they had a return policy on requests for greener grass.
This sucks.
It stinks especially since, as the South gets the hang of these colder days, there is no hope for respite in the particular form of snow days at Tech. As we trudge along in the freezing water I am embittered.
Make it stop, God! Warm me up, thaw this world out.
And then I wonder, as I pray this prayer....am I even talking about the weather anymore?
But deep inside our hearts we know
That you are here and we will not lose hope
Thursday, 25 February 2010
revelation about dirt
My shoes, out of use since the funeral...they were what we waltzed in, what we made memories in. What a redemptive turnaround for the pair.
Thank you, Lord, for turning my mourning into dancing.
Thank you, Lord, for turning my mourning into dancing.
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
dirt on my shoes
That was all i needed this time to remember. I thought I wore those heels since then?
"How are you doing?" My mom asks me. I remember that I like it when she asks me that.
I was drawn to the phone today out of duty, but that fog cleared quickly. I am the daughter, aren't I?
I pass by the receptive hills of green, freckled in marble and iron, and I recall that this earth is grasping something that belongs to me.
I don't know how willing I am to reclaim what I am debted. To at least work out joint custody.
I knew I was forgetting to process something!
Why do people visit cemeteries?
I think I should find out.
And soon.
"How are you doing?" My mom asks me. I remember that I like it when she asks me that.
I was drawn to the phone today out of duty, but that fog cleared quickly. I am the daughter, aren't I?
I pass by the receptive hills of green, freckled in marble and iron, and I recall that this earth is grasping something that belongs to me.
I don't know how willing I am to reclaim what I am debted. To at least work out joint custody.
I knew I was forgetting to process something!
Why do people visit cemeteries?
I think I should find out.
And soon.
Monday, 1 February 2010
up to here
I am an angry black woman.
It has been a series of completely unrelated events that has brought me to this point. Little comments made on the side, glances here or there, the way that I have felt (dis)respected over a recent span of time. It has also been interesting posts that have sparked up conversations, both out loud and in my heart. And I think it is just where I am in life, an almost-college graduate who has to learn how to market herself in a way that won't turn people off, but won't have people agree to contract with someone that is a diluted version of me....and Senior Seminar. All of these things have caused me to come to the conclusion:
I am an angry black woman. I can't help it.
And I don't want to.
I hear you when you make off-the-cuff jokes....also, I understand them. I see you when you avert your eyes because the conversation does not concern my ethnicity...never mind that I would not mind hearing about it, anyway. I know what you mean when you say place AB is "dangerous" or "sketchy"...I have been places with mostly blacks, and I know what that does to people and their sense of security. I know that you know my name because I am the only black woman in your class. I know that I have won your respect and trust because I "talk properly", and I have a firm grasp on subject-verb agreement. I am acutely aware of this tenuous bond, and I am aware of how easily it can be broken. I see your surprised looks when I provide insight in class....didn't I just get here to fulfill a minority quota, anyway? Who would have thought I could contribute something to an institution that is only giving me affirmative handouts? I know why you change the subject whenever dissent about Obama is spoken....surely I laud him as the second coming of the Christ, so any opposition is firmly dismissed. I always, always, always make a note of the hesitance you give when trying to classify my race or ethnicity....black? African-American? I guess you figure it's less offensive to guess than to just ask me what I and other blacks (that's right, blacks) prefer. Why don't you stand on the other side of this communication gap and speculate about the people on the other side...please ignore the bridge that time and circumstance has laid down for us, putting us together in the same school, same bus, same church, same life....just stay over there, figuring out the best way to deal with me.
I'll be over here, watching, listening with the same five senses that you have been equipped with. I'll stay over here and revel in my new status as an angry black woman.
It has been a series of completely unrelated events that has brought me to this point. Little comments made on the side, glances here or there, the way that I have felt (dis)respected over a recent span of time. It has also been interesting posts that have sparked up conversations, both out loud and in my heart. And I think it is just where I am in life, an almost-college graduate who has to learn how to market herself in a way that won't turn people off, but won't have people agree to contract with someone that is a diluted version of me....and Senior Seminar. All of these things have caused me to come to the conclusion:
I am an angry black woman. I can't help it.
And I don't want to.
I hear you when you make off-the-cuff jokes....also, I understand them. I see you when you avert your eyes because the conversation does not concern my ethnicity...never mind that I would not mind hearing about it, anyway. I know what you mean when you say place AB is "dangerous" or "sketchy"...I have been places with mostly blacks, and I know what that does to people and their sense of security. I know that you know my name because I am the only black woman in your class. I know that I have won your respect and trust because I "talk properly", and I have a firm grasp on subject-verb agreement. I am acutely aware of this tenuous bond, and I am aware of how easily it can be broken. I see your surprised looks when I provide insight in class....didn't I just get here to fulfill a minority quota, anyway? Who would have thought I could contribute something to an institution that is only giving me affirmative handouts? I know why you change the subject whenever dissent about Obama is spoken....surely I laud him as the second coming of the Christ, so any opposition is firmly dismissed. I always, always, always make a note of the hesitance you give when trying to classify my race or ethnicity....black? African-American? I guess you figure it's less offensive to guess than to just ask me what I and other blacks (that's right, blacks) prefer. Why don't you stand on the other side of this communication gap and speculate about the people on the other side...please ignore the bridge that time and circumstance has laid down for us, putting us together in the same school, same bus, same church, same life....just stay over there, figuring out the best way to deal with me.
I'll be over here, watching, listening with the same five senses that you have been equipped with. I'll stay over here and revel in my new status as an angry black woman.
Sunday, 31 January 2010
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