It's About How You Fail

Have you ever watched a child fall and get so flustered that they fall while getting up again. Unless someone else steps in, you can watch someone fall, get up, fall, get up, until they decide that its no use, and just stay down.

All summer I teach climbing. I don't climb much, but I've taught it for three years now. The near sure sign of defeat for a kid on a wall is when they start jumping and grabbing frantically. When they panic and start grabbing for hand holds they will inevitably knock their feet off, then their hand will suddenly have their body weight (not all of it because we being the supportive belayers we are, are holding about half) and then their hand slips off. After three or four rounds of this they will slump into the harness, grab the rope, and ask to come down.

Today I heard a song by a band I had never heard of, Beautiful Mistake. It was called "Circular Parade". One of the lines (yeah - the only one I understood) says this:

"I've brought you here, You're in my circular parade of failure...Run away!"

That song had such a hopeless desperation.

I think in stories. We've established this. In that one line I heard his story and it looked like that kid trying to climb the wall.

We fail. We panic and throw ourselves into trying again. We fail.

Now, it needs to be clarified that I don't use the word fail lightly. I don't mean I got a C in class, or lost my keys.

I mean failing God. Because when that happens I let down a lot of my family and friends on top of God. Epic fail.

I have found that when I mess up, when I fail God, I recoil. I get upset. I get panicky and resolute against doing it again then I fail in the same way, quickly. What gives?

What are we left to do?

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." -Hebrews 12:1-2

Lay aside.

Remember Newton. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

When we panic and fling things away, they bounce back.

In life its the same way. If we panic and act on the emotion of guilt and shame, then the same problem will sneak its way back.

We lay it aside. We take a minute to surrender, not fling. Give it over to God and run with Him.

But anyone who has walked with Jesus for any stretch of time will tell you, we walk with Him and we still fail. We're still going to have certain things that grab us and pull us toward failure. Temptation. Struggles. Crutches. We going to feel the burn of failure. And yet He is going to still be with us, ready to take it from us when we surrender and cover us in grace to restore our hearts.

Thanks God.

Just remember - don't panic.

"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." -James 1:2-4

"Be still and now that I am God." -Psalm 46:10

The New Year - in July

I was driving down the road and I realized that my head was thinking of preparing for a new year. It's July. For those who are not feeling quick on the calendar today that is seven months too late.

There are a couple reasons why this is. Number one, school is a big deal at this point in life and I'm about to start a new year - correction my last year (for a few years at least), so because of that I have in my mind a new thing starting.

Second and biggest - camp. I adore Strong Rock Camp. This was my fourth year and if I'm honest I gave more to this summer than any before. That's more of myself to God and then camp so at the end of the sessions I was literally dead of myself. But in between kids, naps, food, running, playing, resting, and collapsing there were moments. Rather there were people who defined moments and there is no way I could remember all of them, but I want to write down a few.

Bekah

I guess I'll start with Bekah. She was my co- counselor. This is a cool story, because I had been co-counselors with Lauren for the past two summers (well one and a half - Taylor Hall was the with me for three weeks and she was AWESOME, but the cabins needed to be shuffled and I ended up back with Lau-Lau).

Lauren

I was terrified of being with Rebekah in a cabin. All I knew about her was that she was loud and dramatic and I couldn't see how we would work well together. Lauren is not loud or dramatic and we had been fantastic and never had a problem so I couldn't fathom working with anyone else. Then I got put with Bekah. For whatever reason God made me super emotional that night and I was really upset by an outside issue and had to leave as soon as the counselor assignment meeting had finished, to go cry. Beks came and found me and I managed to choke out it wasn't about her, which was true. So she brushed it off, but not by leaving, by wrapping her arms around me in a big hug and praying to Jesus. I just started smiling. While she was praying I felt an indescribable peace wash over me. God used my weakened emotional state to get me out of my own selfish ways and see how awesome Rebekah was. She finished praying and we sat and talked for a minute about what direction we wanted to take our cabin this summer and our visions were so similar. All summer that unity was reflected, we had not one single, minuscule, minute issue. Ever. 

Early on in the summer I established how much I love spirit. Which is probably why this picture just makes my day.

Look at my boys. That's my tribe (two of them) breaking it down on spirit. I BELIEVE THAT WE CAN WIN! My tribe (Awahili blue) made me so proud all summer. Owen bringing his cheers, Andrew, Dani, Ben, Angela, and Whitney writing those songs, Michael and his "If you ain't crazy you look stupid speech", and Mater and Eli, just being there wherever we needed, carrying the flag, getting spirited, helping organize, standing in for missing counselors. We were successful this summer because of you all. Thanks.

On that same note the Waya's blew me away. I mean, leap frog? That happened. Lucas, your spirit in everything? Inspirational. Aaron, your ability to shout about wolves always made me proud, you've got some lungs on you. Garrett, you've got a mean cartwheel. Rachel, you can spell W-A-Y-A with pride and it made me want to sing along with you. Beks! You must be joking! (No I'm not being mean people - its a cheer) Alex, your paint won awards. The amount you gave to the red and black, crazy! Meagan, you and Aaron had the tough job of being the only returning Waya, you trained the tribe in the ways impressively well. Taylor, bringing the Old Testament prophets? There are hardly words.

When we weren't being ridiculous with spirit, we were dressing up crazy, for usually no apparent reason.

 Then there were classes. I guest appeared in a couple of random classes, but there were two specific ones I got to plan lessons for and figure out. One was Archery.

I taught a lot with Meagan and Angela. I loved these girls. They gave me confidence. I get protective of classes I love (i.e. Archery), but I knew they could handle it (i.e. give kids a good time, keep things moving and keep them safe). There was one other girl who gave me the same confidence, but she also blessed me in Climbing just the same so she gets a picture there.

WHITNEY! She beast-ed archery and climbing. For real, I do not climb, but I've taught it for three years with the fabulous Sara Walcott, (Who was a program director and not in many pictures this summer, but I adore her and she beast-ed her new job) and then this year I got to be one of the leads, with this lady and this kid, Aaron Hunter. Both of these people made my day as I got weary of climbing because we would throw around lead teaching depending on the day because we could all do it and that makes a big difference at camp. Love you two!

Then for the last half of the summer I got to add a really random class that I loved! With Aaron and Zack. Guess what it was? FISHING! I know, who knew? I could find a picture of Zack fishing, but here he is posing. I had so much fun with the boys, teaching a class that I picked up on along with the kids, but now I know significantly more about bass fishing and about rods. Cause I got to attach hooks, weights, bait, and bobbers.

And now I have a section of specific stories for pictures.

This is Garrett, camp name Blurt. He is in a tree. A few minutes before this picture I was walking in the woods during Sock War, looking for the Waya flag. Then a sock hit me. I turned around and another sock hit me and there was Sammie (nicest, sweetest, most friendly person ever with a fantastic smile) grinning at me. I told her that she didn't need to hit me twice cause I wasn't a general and she looked confused and said she just hit me once. I looked around and eventually looked up and saw this boy grinning at me. I got just had to laugh. Sammie didn't know he was up there either. I was super impressed. He hit me on the first try too. I tossed him an extra sock up there and headed to field to be counted out.

While we're talking about Sock War lets talk about this picture. This summer I discovered that I have like no competitiveness and its getting less every year (Please note the contrast of meekness with Owen's beastliness). So I was happy when I discovered that I could walk around during Sock War and most people would be okay and believe me if I said I wasn't going to hit them. So I found myself sitting on the top of the archery hill watching one of the most epic Sock War battles ever. Behind me were Taylor (Ops) and a couple campers hiding in the brush. I hadn't seen them when I sat down, but I am so un-intimidating they didn't bother to hit me. They accepted my lack of competitiveness quickly and took it so much to heart that when the rest of the tribe on the field saw me and yelled for someone to get me out one dear little girl stood up and screamed at the top of her lungs. "You get her out I get you out! She has NO PURPOSE!!!" I just had to turn around and laugh, because she was being so sweet and didn't realize what she was saying exactly. Taylor's head was hanging and shaking back and forth. Its all you can do and remain and encouraging counselor. I said "Thank you" and we moved on.

Now these two. Taylor and Owen from the last story. I love these two. At the start of the summer they had the job that started my time at Strong Rock and they put me to shame every day. They smiled and laughed and served and got along. That's a big one in the kitchen. They got along so well that while I worked retreats with Owen he more than once would get a text from Taylor or have a memory and just smile a sad little smile in remembrance. They worked with each other and helped each other when the job made them want to slap someone. I appreciate you two, more than words can express.

Acrobatics seemed to be a returning theme this year. One could credit the start of that to the weekend after second second and the formation of a little group called SMACKS (So Many Awesome Crackas Keeping Score - T.Wade made that up on the spot, but he did it with confidence so people accepted that we planned it). This was Jill, Bekah, Taylor, Andrew and I.  We were skilled, and almost quit camp to go on the road.

 Okay, so we laughed and fell, more than actually feats. In the picture on the top we had a tower going. Normally I was the spotter, at this point I am actually more on foot protection control. As in keeping Jill's feet off of Taylor's head. Then we fell and Jill was under the table, Bekah is all but disappeared, Andrew looks unconscious, but the good news is there is no feet on Taylor's head. Success. Hahaha - in reality there were some impressive moments, but a lot of them missed the camera. But we know. SMACKS forever. (Note my co-co's bag in the first picture).

Now that we're talking about Jill. We can talk about our adventure. For our second session the youngest two cabins were going on camp out and Jill's HERO II girls were coming to help. Jill and I were the only girls able to build a fire so we went up early. We got a little way off and heard the thunder, but pressed on. We of course did not bring a radio. We kept chatting and collecting sticks and building the fire as the sky got darker and the thunder got louder. Then I went to light the match and four matches in the wind had blew out every one. I looked at Jill as the thunder cracked over us and we said almost together, "I think its time to go." We threw the fire supplies in our bags shouldered them and walked with purpose towards the trail. We were thirty feet down and heard the rain and ran. We ran as fast as we could out of the woods down the side of the pasture towards the barn. The wind was blowing so hard my left side was totally dry, but my right side was soaked. As hoped I found the barn's radio in the tack room and checked in. Dear James came and got us and we headed back to change and join the party in the gym, where we "camped". 

Finally, we'll end (for now) with this picture and story, because I could tie it in earlier. This is Aaron. Aaron is my brother. Not really, but so many campers believe it. I like this picture because he's got his shoving arm out (typical) and I'm shaking the "No-no" finger (typical). Somehow last year we got started telling campers we were brother and sister and we brought it back this year. I had one group of campers ready to get in fights defending that so I had to tell them that he was actually just my brother in Christ. Another group when I said, he and Peter (my little brother - or rather Aaron's), weren't my real brother's actually wanted to argue it. They straight up told me, "No, they're your brothers!" Aaron and Peter I love ya'll. The end.

 I'm ending with some random pictures that just made me smile.

There are countless more pictures, videos (Shouldn't have driven off and left me and Owen, with your phone. You know who you are) and memories. I'm sure random ones will pop up throughout the year, because my year has been made by summer for four years now and this summer was no different. There is a huge section of my heart to each one of the people I had the privilege of knowing this summer of 2011. I adore you, all of you, for the rest of your lives till we're all having a...."PARTY WITH JESUS! (doo doo, doo doo doo do).

History Books Recall Me As...

So today is my day off from camp. We are in a two week session right now and either its against the law to work us 13 days straight or they fear our sanity, but we all get one day off between Wednesdays. Its been lovely thus far, I bought a yellow dress and made some pad thai and watched my friend spend over half an hour trying to figure out his water filter - and now he's pulling out knives with 8 inch blades.

Promising.

Now I am writing and it feels wonderful.

The more often I write the more often topics come to me. I find myself have random thoughts come into my head and start forming them into blog post. This one is expanding on undoubtedly my favorite topic of the semester, our stories. ("The ______ Story", "A Thought"). This thought started last weekend, or rather two weekends ago. My brain is on camp time.

I was riding with the same friend who has now moved on to figuring out his headphones (with extension he refused to ask the Best Buy people about) - starting the clock.

Sidebar. I do not currently have a car so shout out to the that friend who is super gracious and awesome about giving me rides. I cannot express my appreciation in anything beyond thank you (especially for the non-100 mile, 100 mile trip - you do over-exaggerate)

Anyway, we were talking about something I can't rightly recall, but he mentioned a past a acquaintance as the someone who "destroyed" him. That got me thinking about people in our past and the labels we give them. Some of them are basic, "my old teacher", "my ex-girlfriend", and some are awesome, "my greatest mentor" or "my favorite babysitter", and some are ones that no one wants to be ever, "the person who ruined my life" or "the one who destroyed me". It makes me wonder what labels I've left in peoples life and what labels I'm leaving now. Thus far in the year I have rocked the roles of: granddaughter, daughter, sister, sister-in-law, friend, employee, babysitter, student, counselor, teacher, peer, subordinate, leader, customer, member, passenger, lawbreaker (failure to reduce me speed. Yeah - good times) and so many others I don't have the brain power to recall, but you get the idea. Over half of those could occur in a single day to multiple people ( count the interactions that could occur in the first paragraph of "Reflections..."). Its almost frightening to imagine the vast array of labels that could be bestowed upon me.

My expansion on this thought occurred during Lifeline (evening devotions at my camp). My director was talking about what we can be known for (our pure and upright conduct) and he was asking the kids about some famous people they know of and why, then he said that he knows he will never do anything famous enough to get written into the history books. I almost jumped and asked "Who's history book?". In that split second of saying he wasn't going in any history books, my boss was already written into the history books of the 100 sets of ears that were listening to him. One hundred different history books, at one time, in one moment. I don't need to be in the books that are taught in school. I'm already in so many books, and I pray in a good way.

My third expansion on history books came just now.

If I am written into history books, do I really want that? It seems simple, but if I honestly believe that everything good in me is from God, doesn't that mean that I should want to disappear and leave only Him. It's the John 3:30 principle, "He must increase and I must decrease". If I desire God, I desire to disappear into the shadow of a greater good, a greater Love, a greater God.

Lord, I am in awe that You allow me to be Your hands and feet, Your ambassador. Continue to humble me. Continue to make myself disappear, leave only You. 

Final sidebar. The head phones took ten minutes to get straight. Bravo my friend. 

The _________ Story

So if you want to know about my life right now I have one word: Camp.

Click here to read a blog post by a dear friend who is here at the same time. It is a near perfect representation of where I'm at.

Instead of starting on the novel's worth of growth and change that has happened to me these three weeks I will expand on a prevailing thought I've had for the past year.

Stories.

Who doesn't love a good story? Over a year ago, right before my adopted grandfather passed away I came across the familiar verses of Psalm 139, verse 16.

 "Your eyes have seen my unformed substance; and in Your book were all written the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was not one of them."

Our lives are a story.

Have you ever read a story and you get to the end and you suddenly see the masterful way that the author added the small details to work for a big ending? Those are the best. Imagine someone writing a story and that person cannot make a mistake.

Most. Epic. Thing. Ever.

That's our lives.

Everyday I get to wake and be a part of an amazing story. I am watching the details and not knowing the end, but when it comes it will amazing to get to heaven and look back on the intricate details. The little things. The things that pass a by and then sometimes weeks, months, years down the road we look back and say, "Hmm. That was the day when I met my ______." or "That was when I decided ______."

And then there are the things we won't see. Those are the ones I think will be most surprising. Those are the moments that we get glimpses of.

When you get a book that good you just want to savor every page. So why don't we savor our lives?

We rush for graduation, for weddings, for jobs, for vacation, for meeting people, for leaving people. All those things are part of our lives, but the days in between are the ones that make all the "big" days so great.

Every day I get up and do my best to savor that page of the story, because I don't want to miss something. I don't want to pass a little innocuous detail that shifts the direction of the story. I want to be able to look back and see the baby steps, not just the leaps, because God wrote me a story, long before I started living it. That is grounding.

I can't wait to see where our stories interact next. It'll be a good day, because it was planned, before time.  So go on and embrace the day, the details, and your story.

Campo de Verano

I am at Strong Rock Camp. This place screams my name deep into my heart when I am not here and from now until July I get to join in the shouts. What does that sound like, you ask? There are no words.

Stop for a minute and imagine a time and a place when you are in your element. When you feel loved and accepted even as you act ridiculous. I adore this place.

There are so many things that fill my heart to overflowing. I have not been so excited or bubbly or utterly ridiculous most likely since last summer.


One thing that screaming especially loud tonight are the stars. They are piercing beams of light. They stab through the dark velvety sky and amaze me.

"Star light,

Star bright.

You've just rocked my world tonight.

 Yell down from the heavens.

Sing the glory of my Lord."

Number two, a beautiful song.

Contrary to what my fellow staffers may think, it is not the Fruit of the Spirit song. It's God's song.

Tonight we sang a song with James. The bridge says: "You are my strong melody/ You are my dancing rhythm/ You are my perfect rhyme/ And I will sing your praise, forever."

In my dance class this semester I learned about modern dance. What I loved about this was at times this dance is very structured and at times you just dance with the rhythm inside you. If I think of this as life, I want God to be my "strong melody". Not a weak melody, but strong. Strong enough to create the world. To live on earth, to die for the entire human race. Strong enough to show me life, life to the fullest. I want to dance for God. I want my life to be a dance to the song that God wrote for my life. Someone told me the other day that a Christian scientist did a research and found out that if you take our DNA and turn it sideways and transpose it, it makes a song, a unique song. I haven't done research into this, but it makes sense with God. He loves us so much He not only provided a way for us to conquer death, He gave us a song, a rhythm to dance to. For our lives. For my life. I want to dance to God's song, not my own.

My goal this summer is to follow God. His song. My life. Our dance.

The Safety of Your Car

First off - check your oil. Running your oil out is good way to ensure danger for your engine.

Now that we got through what it sounds like this post is about, lets move on to my real meaning.

Yes. It's about walking, as many of my posts seem to be lately. Or maybe its just my thoughts. Maybe one day I'll compile them into one work. The Car-less Chronicles. Catchy right?

Tonight I took the bus to the bank and then caught the return bus. Since the bank was closed I used the ATM then got to stand at the bus stop for ten or so minutes. Always interesting. Especially during rush hour on one of the main streets leaving down town. People stare. I was reminded again of the judgmental way I used to look at bus riders from my car.

When I got on the bus I got to have a lovely conversation with what must have been the driver's daughter. She sat right behind the driver with no noticeable guardian figure. She struck up a conversation within ten seconds of my sitting next to her. Fun personality.

Then I got off half a mile early to run into the Bestway. It was there I was carded for the first time – for my grape juice, sparkling of course.

I love that stuff and keep waiting to get carded on it. Tonight that dream came true. Needless to say the little guy behind the register quickly became my best friend.

Now let me explain what I mean by "Safety of your Car". It is a reference the bubble like feeling we get when driving. There is always a hunk of metal between you and the world around you. You have no direct contact with anything outside the car. This can be a good thing (especially in the ghetto half of my city), but you can also miss out on a lot, like:

1) The people who walk too.

I passed little boys with basketballs. Twenty year olds with dread locks. Old couples exercising. My favorite of the day came from the bus stop by my apartment. There was a middle aged couple jogging, both plugged into their iPods. When they got the intersection, the man turns around to the woman and starts waving his hands around communicating commando style to decide which way to go.  They went straight.

2) The sensation of it.

Something about walking. Being near the earth. Having to watch for the uneven cracks in the sidewalk. Squinting in the sun. Embracing the breeze. The rush of passing cars. Ducking under dangling branches. Just feeling your feet move. Have you ever stopped to wonder at that? We do things like walking without giving them a thought. I am exceedingly blessed by my legs and feet, and so are you. Working lower limbs are one of the greatest things around you. They are what keep you in a semblance of independence. Being without a car my legs are 60-70% of my transportation. If I did not have the ability to walk I'd be in real trouble. Not only has this made me more thankful for my legs, but has made me more impressed by people who are without working ones.

3) The world around you.

I got to see part of the inside of the round house. Yes there is a circular house on my street. Its classy. The girl was either moving in or out. Either way I got the chance to see part of the inside and also walked away with a box and an awesome old wooden crate. I saw people in their yards as well as a less than intimidating, small, old dogs behind a fence labeled "Beware of Dog".

4) The smells.

If you have never walked down the street when honeysuckle is in bloom you are being deprived of one of the joys of life.

5) The opportunity to stand out.

There are very few people who stand out in their cars. The best you can do is make your car stand out. Walk down a busy street with a large red crate on your hip. Start dancing at a bus stop. You stand out a little. Not everyone wants to be the center of attention, but I think a part of us all wants to be noticed. Something you can't really do in a car.


Finally I need a share blooper photo. I did a image search to find the photos I used in this blog. I found many different pictures. Some were rather inappropriate because that's what everyone thinks of when you type in "girl walking" and "smelling flowers". A couple of them were down right hilarious.

I mean come on? There was a hilarious picture of this kid walking I was going to add but I missed the copyright. 

Reflections from the Bus Stop, the Backyard, and the 8th Floor.

This is me. For once. 

There is something poetic about sitting on a bag on a bus stop. Last Tuesday I spent a lot of time doing that. I mastered three different bus routes and walked approximately three miles. The result was I traded in clothes at Plato's Closet and got in turn shoes (so I can stop borrowing my sister's shoes every time I need to dress up), an easter dress (with pockets!) a tank top and t-shirt (for camp). I went to Target, which was in the same shopping center, then went to a different shopping center and got groceries then walked home. Bus 9 took me to school that morning. I took bus 8 to the first shopping center and back to the depot where I got on bus 7 which took me to the next shopping center. From there I walked home.
I got to my second bus stop of the day more than ten minutes early and just sat and enjoyed the moment. The sun was on my left side and the wind was on my right. I watched the cars coming waves and a lot of them the speeding through the red lights. It was peaceful time. Listening to an awesome song.

This was from this past Wednesday. She wouldn't tell me what
we were making as we added cupfuls of dirt to the water
then we gathered sticks to drop in there then she starts with,
"Oh yes, these are looking beautiful." What were we making?
Chocolate colored pretzels. 

Moving on to the back yard. I babysit and awesome kid for the sake of discretion I will call her Amelia, she's seven. Last Wednesday I went to their house and we made soup out of water and stuff found in the yard. Amidst phrases like, "I think that flower was a good addition." and "These colors are really working." She was brainstorming how to better the soup.
Disclaimer: She loves the cooking channel. Yes she's seven.
The first issue we ran into was a more solid base. Amelia suggested, "We need chicken stock." I had to ask where she planned on getting some and she responded, "The kitchen." I didn't see her mom loving that so I suggested dirt. She bought it. In reality I was deterring from what I knew was coming. She is an incredibly creative thinker and there were two dogs walking around. You can all guess where I saw her search for chicken stock going. Then she decided we needed chicken. Once again I asked her how she thought we could represent that. She looked around and hit me with, "A bird?" Had to look really object there. We ended up with leaves. Then came the discussion of how to cook it. Of course it was going in the play house then she said we should bake it not cook it.
"Does your mom make soup in the oven?" she thought for a minute.
"Maybe not, but I know Rachel has."
I stopped to think about what her aunt's name was then had ask, "Who's Rachel?"
She looked taken aback, "You don't know Rachel Ray?!"
All I could do was laugh.

Finally the eighth floor.
This picture is my number two reason that Greensboro works for me. This is not the edge of the city. There is so much city below that tree line. I love the fact that there are so many trees and they are so big and old that the majority of the city is below them. This is what I looked at out of the window that was next to the desk that I wrote at on the 8th floor of Jackson Library. Lovely. Yes I did get the paper done. Thanks for asking.




Currently jamming to "How You Like Me Now" by The Heavy. Still working on getting that video, pardon it. : )

Victorious

“The waves are crashing down on me

But I know that this cannot be the end, be the end...

Right now I feel like copping out

Will You hold me up, if I just say

That I will stay

I will hold on to this hope that I have

You gave me a promise

I'll push through this moment, I'll never give up

You gave me a promise”

(You Gave Me a Promise - Fireflight)

Panic. 

It happens to everyone at some point in our lives. Some more than others, some significantly less.

I fall into the later category.

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of it’s own.’ 

(Matthew 6:34)

This sometimes helps me and other times not so much.

It helps me because 95% of things that trouble others just roll off my shoulder, because people freak out about things that have already happened or things that are inevitably happening. There’s not a lot you can do about either of those. It does not help me because when it happens to me it get's multiplied because the feeling of freaking out is so foreign, I freak out more.

For the past month I have been fighting with one huge panic attack.

I call it a panic “attack” with purpose. Yes, it’s a well acknowledged expression, but it is also what I believe that it is, an “attack”. There is nothing biblical or God-like about freaking out, in fact we explicitly told more than once to not freak out. Therefore, logic lends me to believe that if it the opposite of what God tells us, then it is literally an attack from the devil.

“I look out the window 

The birds are composing

Not a note is out of tune 

Or out of place

I walk to the meadow 

And stare at the flowers

Better dressed than any girl 

On her wedding day

So why do I worry?

Why do I freak out?

God knows what I need

You know what I need.” 

(Your Love is Strong - Jon Foreman)

Satan wants us to freak out. To abide in stress. Panic and stress distort or hide God.

“God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.”

(2 Timothy 1:7)

 As I struggle with this demon of fear, I thank God that so far the only thing that has allowed peace is the reminder of His love, grace and provision. Because in reality, nothing else is strong enough to defeat to satan. In fact, it’s not something that He is strong enough to do, it’s something that he did 2000 years ago.

I have found the condolences of people, even my parents fruitless. The reason of my own head that screams that there is literally nothing I can do is muffled by Satan quietly whispering that I have failed. That I am a failure. Why do I give power to that whisper?

I once read a fictional book called Impossible. This book had absolutely nothing to do with God, but was rather based on the folk song “Scarborough Fair”. It was the story of a girl whose ancestry was just women after woman having a daughter at 18 then going insane, because a long time ago her great (x12) grandmother had refused to go with some sort of mystical creature (elf, gnome, wizard) and he had put a curse on her line. To break the curse she had to complete three impossible tasks before her baby was born. She did because she had supportive parents and a childhood friend turned boyfriend turned husband to help her. The final scene of the novel takes place in a small fishing cabin where she has her baby due to having to complete the final task. The wizard shows up anyway to take her (all of her ancestors were crazy because after they had their daughters they were forced to go with him). He makes her a deal that he will spare her daughter and husband if she comes willing and she almost agrees. Then her husband, I think his name was Zack, suddenly realizes that because the wizard is making deals the curse is already broken and he has no power over Lucy anymore. He is correct and the Wizard is forced to die, since it was the curse keeping him alive.

The whole book was entertaining to that point. At that point I was struck. Satan is defeated. We entertain him in our panic attacks when we give into them. We give him a power that is not there.

“There in the ground his body lay. 

Light of the world by darkness slain. 

Then bursting forth in glorious day, 

up from the grave He rose again. 

And as He stands in victory, 

sin’s curse has lost it’s grip on me. 

For I am His and He is mine, 

bought with precious blood of Christ.” 

(In Christ Alone - Stuart Townsend)

I have a friend who once said that she wanted to throw her fist up in the air at the triumphant victory proclaimed at the end of the song, “In Christ Alone.” The idea of victory is not often associated with God. We speak of His love, His grace, His justice, His faithfulness, but what about His victory? He is the ultimate victor. He didn’t defeat a big army, or corrupt ruler. He defeated death. We are no longer bound to it.

“When Satan tempts me to despair. 

And tells me of my guilt within.

Upward I look and see Him there, 

who made an end to all my sin.

Because a sinless savior died,

my sinful soul is counted free.

For God the just was satisfied,

to look on Him and pardon me.”


(Before the Throne -Charles Bancroft)

How do we comprehend that? We are not only pardoned, we are free. Free. We are not bound to despair. We are not bound to failure. We are not bound to panic. We are not bound to fear. We are not bound to sin. We are free.

“He has cheated

Hell and seated

Us above the fall

In desperate places

He paid our wages

One time once and for all.”

(Death in His Grave - John Mark McMillan)

Tomorrow we celebrate Easter. God could not have better timing. Tomorrow is the celebration of my freedom. Tomorrow is the day I throw my fist in the air and proclaim that God’s victory has sealed my freedom. Yesterday, today and for all eternity.

“Let no one caught in sin remain

Inside the lie of inward shame

But fix our eyes upon the cross

And run to Him who showed great love

And bled for us

Freely You've bled for us

Christ is risen from the dead

Trampling over death by death

Come awake, come awake

Come and rise up from the grave

Christ is risen from the dead

We are one with Him again

Come awake, come awake

Come and rise up from the grave

Beneath the weight of all our sin

You bowed to none but heaven's will

No scheme of hell, no scoffer's crown

No burden great can hold You down

In strength You reign

Forever let Your church proclaim

O death, where is your sting?

O hell, where is your victory?

O church, come stand in the light

The glory of God has defeated the night

O death, where is your sting?

O hell, where is your victory?

O church, come stand in the light

Our God is not dead

He's alive! He's alive!”

(Christ is Risen - Matt Maher)

A Thought

I read a quote tonight in the novel, Coming Attractions by Robin Jones Gunn. It sounds like a bad romance novel, but its not. She is one of my favorite Christian Fiction writers. Infinitely better than others in the similar genre who's initials are KK (not to offend, its just facts). It has got me thinking. I have yet to decide the fullness or emptiness of my agreement with the argument made, but I believe I like the general idea. I thought I would share it for you all to consider.

(Setting: A conversation between Katie, the main character, and Eli while driving in a car on measuring success in a relationship. I have extracted most of Katie's responses since she is the narrator and is rather subjective. What Eli is saying is the interesting part. ) 

Eli settled deeper into the passenger seat. "I'm not big on measuring things by success...I don't think many of us know how to accurately measure success," Eli said. "That's because God's ways aren't our ways, and His thoughts aren't our thoughts. So much of the kingdom of God is measured on a different scale than the one the world uses to measure value...'"

 "Love starts in the heart," Eli said. "Not just in the head. All love engages emotions...So if I love God, and I mean really love God with abandon, then I must come to love myself, my life. I need to love my story at the heart level. That's what I believe life is for all of us. A story being written by God. He is the Author and Finisher of our faith. When I start to love my story, with all its messed up twists and turns, then I can love other people who are living out their own stories with all their messed up twists and turns." 

Katie jumped in. "I've been learning to make peace with my story this past year too. Or, I guess I should say, the God is writing in my life. I have my share of messed up twists and turns."

"We all do. If we didn't, why would we need a Savior? Why would we need God's grace? And in my story, why would I need the power of forgiveness if I could simply work out my anger on my own?...Some things will never be brought to justice. At least not on a human level. That's why I said I don't hold out a case against him (man who wronged his family) anymore. If there's going to be justice, it will be measured out by God, not by me...I don't know that guy's story...if I'm going around saying I love God, then I have to trust him and believe that everything in my life first passed through his fingers. Nothing happens outside of his control. He alone will bring all things to justice one day. All I'm supposed to do is love my own story so that I can love that guy's story too."

Now there are a couple of reasons why this particular passage struck me.

One is the metaphor of my life as a story. I am a story person. I write them. I read them. I watch them. I critique them. I imagine them. Stories are a centerpiece of my life. Some of biggest revelations about the Bible have been when I sit down and think of it as one huge story.  My life as a story being written and the reference to God being "the Author and Finisher of our faith" is not a foreign concept to me, it has been in my head for a few years, but hearing it from other sources is always encouraging.

There is a movie called, The Brothers Bloom(2008).

Not a great cinematic work, in fact, I barely remember it, but what I do remember is that throughout the movie they use the terminology of story writing in reference to the cons that one brother writes. By the end of the movie this metaphor is used as a reference to their whole lives. One of, if not the last line of the film, Rachel Wiez's character tells Adrian Brody's that they are going to live like they're a part of the greatest story ever told. (Paraphrase). I remember that.

That may have been one of the first times I started to see my life as a story. It is an interesting thought.

However, the second part of Eli's (from the book excerpt) analysis is the part I think we, or at least me, being the self-centered beings we are, often forget.

Everyone around us is also in the middle of a story as well. Their story.

I think we walk around wanting everyone around us to be in the comfortable resolution part of their stories, because that makes it easy on us when we're in the middle of the action. But it doesn't work that way.

What if we encounter people in their rough spots? Or their complicated subplots? Think about a normal day in your life. Since you are the main character of your story you normally have a pretty good handle of what is going on with you. You know things like you went to the gym before work, and that at work your department is being downsized, and that when you're at the store you aren't putting something back because you don't want, you're putting it back because you only have $47 in your account, and that when you went home your kids had surprised you by making dinner. But think about the person on the treadmill next to you at the gym. They only knew that you were running on a treadmill at 6:30 in the morning. If they were nosy maybe they looked at how fast you were going. They didn't know that you're running to relive stress of the possibility of losing your job. In the same way you didn't know that they had recently gotten married and their shockingly sunny and kind of annoying attitude is as a result.

Two vastly different stories were being told on the two different treadmills, but at that intersection all they knew was that the other person wanted to workout badly enough to go at 6:30 in the morning.

Remembering that really puts a different perspective on how you treat people.

The second thing that jumped out at me comes from the section on Grace and Forgiveness and leaving the justice to God.

Currently I am in the process of re-watching the show "Burn Notice"(2007). Yes re-watching, because my first time through, I watched somewhat scattered-ly and was a little lost on the overarching story (case in point on the importance of stories to me).

As a result of this when I read the line in the book that says, "...some things will never be brought to justice. At least not on a human level.",  I thought of Burn Notice because the premise of nearly every show consists of Michael, Sam and Fiona (and in season 4 Jesse) trying to get justice for the wronged citizens of Miami. The ones that "the system" can no longer help.

Now one could argue that they are simply taking the gifts they've been given ( like the ability to adopt personas, smooth talk, create impromptu shape charges, and wield heavy artillery) and using them to help. This is true. But it was the idea behind the show that got me. This is a show about humans helping humans get justice. This show is an example of humans taking something that is God and giving it to human ability.

My mom once said that superheros comics and movies were so insanely popular because people want something to worship. People see the frailty of themselves so they create things that eliminate that weakness and then, in many cases, worship it. I see this as the same idea. Humans want justice, and fairness, but they don't want God.

Enter gun toting crusaders like Michael Weston, or the A-Team, or even all the way back to Robin Hood. They all come from the same genre and the same desire for God, without God.

I will have to do another post sometime, (as this post is three times as long as I expected) to elaborate on the idea of taking an attribute of God and worshiping it. I have done a lot of thinking about it and have piles of illustrations from the media I have watched/read/listened to over the years.

But for now, I will continue to think about my encounters with people as intersections. Brief scenes together in our own beautifully written, though sometimes insanely hard, stories.

Curveball

Close your eyes and imagine your commute. 

Maybe you are coming home from work, coming home from picking up your kids, running to the grocery store, whichever. You are in your car driving along one of the busiest streets in your area. Then you see someone walking in the median. What does this person look like? Till about a week ago you would have gotten two different options from me, either a sketchy looking crazy looking person or a runner, plugged into their iPod. That was really all I'd seen until about a week ago, well that's really all I thought of, until five days ago. 


Five days ago, I became a third category. 


Five days ago, I was in a small car accident (my fault, no injuries, too expensive to repair) that has left me car-less. You don't need the details, because they are irrelevant to this post, but when one finds oneself without a car you are left three options: take the bus, bum a ride, or walk. I have divided up my travels equally. As a result todays commuters on West Market St got to see a different kind of street walker. A college student in jeans, t-shirt, and baseball hat with a bulging shoulder bag on one side and a gallon of apple juice in the other. 


As a child I did a unit study (homeschool geek word for spending the better part of a month on learning the ins and outs of one subject) on Germany. Of the many books I looked at I remember reading in one how people in Germany do not often use supermarkets. Instead they walk to the markets daily and buy only what they need for the day because they are carrying it. I was so inspired by this. How relaxing and energizing. Another attraction for me was getting to grocery shop every day. I love grocery shopping. I don't know why. My mother and I both suspected that when I would have to start spending my money not hers it would loose the attraction. It hasn't. But I digress. Since I read that bit about Germany it has been my goal to live in a place where I can walk to the grocery store. I was in fact a tad envious when my brother and sister in law moved into town, just a few blocks from the grocery store of my hometown. Then I moved to Greensboro, and an apartment a mere mile or so from the nearest Harris Teeter. I spent the first eight months of my residence imagining that one day I would walk. Enter the problem. Cars. 


We take them for granted, yes. I know this for certain as I feel like a middle schooler again, getting picked up and dropped off by my roommate and kind friend, Katie. However, I also let my car cripple me. I am under a 30 minute walk from the grocery store. That is more than doable. But for 8 months I would chicken out at the last minute and take my car. Then I did not have a car, and I finally had no excuse not to try. I've been twice in the last 5 days.


These experiences have helped me in my journey to know Greensboro as a city and here are the pros and cons of what I've learned. 


Pro: My walk to the grocery store takes me through the most amazing old neighborhood. I now aspire to one day live in one similar. Old neighborhoods are the best. They have huge, storytelling trees, and lovely natural looking landscaping. Not to knock new developments, but God help me if I ever reside in one. They are somewhat heinous. 


Con: For all the "green" initiative my city has, it litters like nobody's business. Truly frightful in some areas. 


Pro: I can walk to everywhere essentially. 


Con: This is my latest pet peeve of large cities. It takes so long to get places after you get there. Example: It takes me about 15 to 20 minutes to walk from my apartment complex to the Friendly Center, but another 5 to ten minutes to get where I need to be in the Friendly Center and five minutes to get from the start of my complex to my building. Or it takes about 5 minutes to ride the bus from my street (3 minute walk from my house) to campus, but an extra ten minutes to get to my building. Where I'm from when you go somewhere, you get there when you arrive. You don't go to the Ingles and then have to walk (or drive) another ten minutes to get the store. 


Pro: Exercise! Not only did I walk for a good 3 miles today the last half was with 4 quarts of strawberries, on bag of lettuce, one cucumber, one bottle salad dressing, on loaf of bread, and one gallon of apple juice. Extra calories burned!
(Side note: Harris Teeter is super expensive, until there is a sale. Today I spent $18.22 with savings $14.74 on in house sales. This year to date my in house savings have been $68.67. Strawberries 4 for $5 and apple juice 2 for $3)


Con: I'm out of cons, but another Pro is I get to see a closer look at the people, houses, and nature that make up the world around me. Beautiful. 


Small digression. I have through these experiences been convicted of two small ways I judge people. One: people who get in car accidents, or more specifically people who rear-end others. Surely they must be incompetent, and maybe they are, but I have now joined the ranks. And second, anyone who is walking along streets, not exercising or headed to class, must be trouble. I became aware of this painfully as I walked along the streets and through the Friendly Center and imagined what I would think if I saw me from my car. Two things to think about. 


In the end, I am reminded of a quote from one of my favorite quirky movies: Extreme Days(2001), at the end of this movie the narrator, Will, says, "When God throws a curveball, don't duck, you just might miss something." That always stuck with me and its times like this that remind me why. Losing your freedom of transportation is a curveball for sure and I am doing my best to not duck or run the other direction, but rather adjust my position to hit it head on and keep on playing the game. 

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." 

-James 1:2-4

Take it All Away

You have to listen to the song. Before, after or during your reading of the post. If you can't listen then mute it and read the lyrics.

dear Effect,

you are so disproportionate 

you snuck up behind me,

you stabbed my back.

you haunt my quiet.

you overthrow peace.

lightly I speak, heavy my heart.

 I scream in silence 

I don’t want the sympathy

I don’t need them to understand

I just want this demon out of me

I am in a cage, scratching to get out.

poison escapes my eyes

oxygen is trapped in my lungs

my eyes are dry, my soul 

screams out

you are begging me to roll over

enticing me to let lie

but I see through your fake eyes

I am frantically mustering

searching the deep

crying out with 

gut wrenching

take it all away

you will entreat

I will refuse

you have died

sincerely,

____________

This is significantly darker than the last several post. But is a real emotion with a song that Jesus has put in my heart for weeks in advance, for this purpose. This is my reminder of a refusal to submit to darkness, because all I need to do is cry out.

 I debated whether or not to post this, but ultimately decided that public posting would help keep me accountable to the manifesto in the last three lines of the poem, and maybe Jesus can use it to help others in a struggle. 

Oh Happy Day (ahem-night...er...morning?)

Alright, so the vague time of day is not the important part of the title, the HAPPY part is. I feel so happy and free right now here is some of the possible reasons why.

"Cause I'm free to dance (forget about your two left feet) and
I'm free to sing (even joyful noise is music to thee)  and
I'm free to laugh (cause He's given me His love and it's made
me Free."

1) For all of you who went to or are going to college for any stretch of time, you know that at some point you look back on a semester and say, "What was I thinking during registration?". This is that semester for me. Surprisingly though it is not the five straight days of 8AM classes that I have issue with, it is the three 300 level English classes. Now I am an English major and thought surely, I can do three of these classes. I had three the semester before and was fine. Here is the critical part - I chose three classes that I have no real vested interest in. I am a creative writing person. As much as I may enjoy the lectures and actual class time of classic literature and/or critical theory classes, I will not like the work. So needless to say this semester has been a slump and tonight I finished a six page rough draft of my biggest paper. A research paper. Even more the bane of my English studying existence. I will argue with some people till the cows come home (you know who you are) but if I have to objectively craft and argument with support from scholarly resources, its just not fun. I can form opinions, but I don't want to have to search and find other people to support them if I don't actually care about the topic in the first place. And for me finishing the rough draft is akin to finishing the paper, because we have a peer workshop and hopefully a teacher conference to help me work through the details, I have the argument. I kid you not, as soon as I finished that conclusion I felt ten pounds lighter. I'm not a stresser, but depressing things like papers do tend to rain on your parade of carefreeness. No more! I think in my head I have equated finishing this paper with finishing the school year. And it is sweet.

One year. I'm counting.

2) I met with my advisor and got to see how incredibly close I am to graduating. At the end of this semester I will have 30 hours. At the end of next semester I will have completed the requirements for my major (aside from my final level of Spanish). And many thanks to the wisdom of my kind teacher (yes, the one who assigned the research paper - she's a good teacher, its not her fault I hate research papers) I am taking classes I am almost all excited about or interested in. Culture of Baseball anyone? (Yeah that's a class - and one that will fill 3 of my required 36 hours at a 300 level)

3) I get to work a weekend retreat at my beloved camp this weekend. It will be my fourth consecutive time working this same retreat. I love it. (check this link to read about my experience last time)

4) Jesus loves me, this I know. For the bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong. They are weak, but He is strong.