Have you heard? We moved! Follow me over to the new and improved
www.werewolfjesus.com
Cynicism
7 years ago
Some of the downfalls of being married to an Art Director are that he works long hours and forgets to eat and needs a new glasses prescription every 5 months. But one of the many perks is that sometimes he gets a lull between jobs and offers to build you a shiny new website!
Back to the downsides: he is a design snob and tells you that Blogger is for children and that Wordpress is where all the stylish kids hang out. And oh, haven't you always longed to be one of the stylish kids?
So, you take him at his side-parting, argyle sock-wearing, moleskine-scribbling word and announce that you are pleased to introduce...
WWW.WEREWOLFJESUS.COM
Say goodbye to the long and tedious current url!
Adios, accidentally-forgetting-to-include-the-'book'-part-of-this-url-and-ending-up-on-a-creepy-site-containing-what-appears-to-be-gay-porn. (Sorry about that, everyone. Wish I could block it somehow...)
Toodles, self-taught HTML hacks learned simply to have a decent layout.
and hellllooo, Gorgeous.
Of course, things are still under construction and I will continue to post in both locations to ease the transition for you all.
Of course, I am hopeful that you, like little ducklings, will follow me over to the new site and continue to read.
Of course, I'd love for you to use the much-easier-to-use "subscribe" tool there (on the top rght hand side of the page) to receive simple email alerts when I update.
Of course, I'd love for you to use the new Facebook enabling to "like" posts that tickle your fancy.
and OF COURSE I'm grateful for everyone who reads and follows and comments and makes it worthwhile to upgrade to a newer, easier and overall just prettier site.
Love to love ya.
Back to the downsides: he is a design snob and tells you that Blogger is for children and that Wordpress is where all the stylish kids hang out. And oh, haven't you always longed to be one of the stylish kids?
So, you take him at his side-parting, argyle sock-wearing, moleskine-scribbling word and announce that you are pleased to introduce...
WWW.WEREWOLFJESUS.COM
Say goodbye to the long and tedious current url!
Adios, accidentally-forgetting-to-include-the-'book'-part-of-this-url-and-ending-up-on-a-creepy-site-containing-what-appears-to-be-gay-porn. (Sorry about that, everyone. Wish I could block it somehow...)
Toodles, self-taught HTML hacks learned simply to have a decent layout.
and hellllooo, Gorgeous.
Of course, things are still under construction and I will continue to post in both locations to ease the transition for you all.
Of course, I am hopeful that you, like little ducklings, will follow me over to the new site and continue to read.
Of course, I'd love for you to use the much-easier-to-use "subscribe" tool there (on the top rght hand side of the page) to receive simple email alerts when I update.
Of course, I'd love for you to use the new Facebook enabling to "like" posts that tickle your fancy.
and OF COURSE I'm grateful for everyone who reads and follows and comments and makes it worthwhile to upgrade to a newer, easier and overall just prettier site.
Love to love ya.
Aloha from Hawaii, readers! As I have been sunning myself, learning Pidgin and generally doing my best to be mistaken for a local, my friend Heather has been working hard on this blog post. So far, the locals are calling me 'hapa', which means half. So, as I continue to pursue my vacation goal, I leave you in the hands of sweet Heather.
I asked Heather to guest post because I thought this blog could use a punch of honesty. I try hard to make you laugh and make you think and sometimes I wonder if I am taking too many creative liberties and scraping off bits of truth in the process. It's hard to put yourself out there, naked and vulnerable in the blogosphere, without coming across as whiny or pleading. Heather manages to do so with such grace and positivity that I am left humbled and inspired. Her lovely writing style and open heart make her blog, My Little Bird, such a joy to read.
Heather and I are the same age and yet she seems to have journeyed so much further, tackling motherhood and all of its challenges over at http://lettingyoufly.blogspot.com/ . Make sure to follow her and leave comments here if you like what you see. Take it away, Mama Bird :)
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I love how there are some pieces of literature or artwork that resonate with us differently at different times in our lives-- we may read a book three times and relate to a different character each time we take a pass through the pages. Or you might listen to a song a hundred times, and on that hundred and first time you hear a chord or a lyric that strikes something deep within you that you hadn’t felt the other times you listened. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to Psalm 139 as my ‘favorite psalm.’ And at different seasons in my life, God has highlighted certain verses for me that all of a sudden mean something new or challenge me in new ways.
I asked Heather to guest post because I thought this blog could use a punch of honesty. I try hard to make you laugh and make you think and sometimes I wonder if I am taking too many creative liberties and scraping off bits of truth in the process. It's hard to put yourself out there, naked and vulnerable in the blogosphere, without coming across as whiny or pleading. Heather manages to do so with such grace and positivity that I am left humbled and inspired. Her lovely writing style and open heart make her blog, My Little Bird, such a joy to read.
Heather and I are the same age and yet she seems to have journeyed so much further, tackling motherhood and all of its challenges over at http://lettingyoufly.blogspot.com/ . Make sure to follow her and leave comments here if you like what you see. Take it away, Mama Bird :)
I love how there are some pieces of literature or artwork that resonate with us differently at different times in our lives-- we may read a book three times and relate to a different character each time we take a pass through the pages. Or you might listen to a song a hundred times, and on that hundred and first time you hear a chord or a lyric that strikes something deep within you that you hadn’t felt the other times you listened. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to Psalm 139 as my ‘favorite psalm.’ And at different seasons in my life, God has highlighted certain verses for me that all of a sudden mean something new or challenge me in new ways.
Right now, I’m thinking a lot about verses 13-17:
I don’t think God minds this desire of mine to know what my day will look like or to have big dreams—in fact I fully believe it was part of my inmost being that He knit together, and He delights in the work He created in me.
However, I know He also is not pleased when my desire to have a clear, detailed plan becomes a clinging to clarity and control—it shows that I lack trust in Him and the plans He has for me.
My plans for my life started to go off track for the first time when I moved to New York City after college to pursue a career in professional theatre. I didn’t last there four whole months. The city made me claustrophobic, I lacked community and felt incredibly alone, and I lost confidence in myself as an artist. Almost more than the disappointment I thought others would see and the failure I innately felt in myself, the most overwhelming feeling for me was my fear in a lack of certainty/control/a plan for my future (since this was in fact my plan since I was about 12 years old). I was broke (financially, and my spirit was crushed), so I decided to move home for a few months to get back on my feet without any sense of a plan.
In that season of non-planning, God started re-directing my life. I got to work as a theatre teacher for a local community arts organization. I found an incredible job in higher education and moved in with my best friend Sarah in Boston. I had the opportunity to act in an original musical that ended up winning several Boston-area awards. And perhaps most beautifully, I was reconnected with and fell in love with the man I believe God made for me all along. It took MY plan getting a little bit shattered for me to look to the Lord for where to go next.
The place He’s ultimately led me (and my husband) for right now is living on a farm in Virginia with our sweet little boy, Emmett (who is almost 8 months old!). Becoming a mama has perhaps been the most challenging in my journey towards trust and giving up control thus far. It’s been so good for me to let go and stop obsessing over knowing what tomorrow holds, because living my life according to the needs of a child forces me to give up my plans and schedule and CONTROL on a daily, even hourly basis.
For you formed my inward parts;I was born with the strong desire to have a plan. I’m not exactly talking about a nebulous idea of where I’m heading; I mean a clear, distinct path towards the future and the direction I’d like to head. I take great pride in the fact that if I work really hard at A, B, and C, one day I will most likely arrive at my destination of Z. I’ve always been like this—it is ingrained deeply in the fibers of my being. I make to-do lists for my to-do lists and thrive with schedules and dreams to work towards. As much as I wish I could live freely and spontaneously, I am uncomfortable when things go awry and immediately come up with a new plan to get back on track.
you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.
I don’t think God minds this desire of mine to know what my day will look like or to have big dreams—in fact I fully believe it was part of my inmost being that He knit together, and He delights in the work He created in me.
However, I know He also is not pleased when my desire to have a clear, detailed plan becomes a clinging to clarity and control—it shows that I lack trust in Him and the plans He has for me.
My plans for my life started to go off track for the first time when I moved to New York City after college to pursue a career in professional theatre. I didn’t last there four whole months. The city made me claustrophobic, I lacked community and felt incredibly alone, and I lost confidence in myself as an artist. Almost more than the disappointment I thought others would see and the failure I innately felt in myself, the most overwhelming feeling for me was my fear in a lack of certainty/control/a plan for my future (since this was in fact my plan since I was about 12 years old). I was broke (financially, and my spirit was crushed), so I decided to move home for a few months to get back on my feet without any sense of a plan.
In that season of non-planning, God started re-directing my life. I got to work as a theatre teacher for a local community arts organization. I found an incredible job in higher education and moved in with my best friend Sarah in Boston. I had the opportunity to act in an original musical that ended up winning several Boston-area awards. And perhaps most beautifully, I was reconnected with and fell in love with the man I believe God made for me all along. It took MY plan getting a little bit shattered for me to look to the Lord for where to go next.
The place He’s ultimately led me (and my husband) for right now is living on a farm in Virginia with our sweet little boy, Emmett (who is almost 8 months old!). Becoming a mama has perhaps been the most challenging in my journey towards trust and giving up control thus far. It’s been so good for me to let go and stop obsessing over knowing what tomorrow holds, because living my life according to the needs of a child forces me to give up my plans and schedule and CONTROL on a daily, even hourly basis.
By not being focused on my own grand life plans, I’m learning to be more present in the day-to-day (something I’ve never been good at). I’m enjoying those simple and small joys like taking time to prepare meals (not just eating on the run), and actually tasting the goodness of the food in front of me. Small joys like cups of hot coffee in the morning for my weary mama soul while Emmett plays and I get to watch the sun rise out the window. Little things like phone calls with loved ones, dates with my husband, walking through the galleries at the art museum where my husband works and showing my little one the shapes and colors in my favorite pieces. Instead of wishing Emmett was more mobile/talking/in school and thinking about where we’re headed next, I’m trying to soak in our cuddles, his delight in discovering small things, his hard laughter when my husband tickles him, our beautiful long walks on the farm in the afternoon light, and watching the people around me melt and find joy in him too. I’m keeping track of these joys in notes around the house, journals and on my blog—but it’s in these little things that I’m seeing God’s goodness right now in ways I may never have noticed if I’d been so focused on my own grand schemes and plans.
Instead of dreaming about being an actress, God is molding my heart towards arts education, starting a small creative home business (an Etsy shop in the next few months!), and growing in my creative writing. These are all things that have laid under the surface for a while and desires I believe God wanted me to see from the beginning, but my own plans always got in the way. He is teaching me to have grace in my ‘failures,’ and know that He even uses those to grow me and explore who I am and where He’s taking me and my family on this new journey.
I definitely don’t have it right yet, but I think I’m finally starting to lean into that lesson of trusting God with my journey. I hope that I can continue to grow in that deepness of trust and continue to open my hands up and offer him my dreams (big and small) and find clarity in the fact that He is ultimately in control and I don’t have to be.
Instead of dreaming about being an actress, God is molding my heart towards arts education, starting a small creative home business (an Etsy shop in the next few months!), and growing in my creative writing. These are all things that have laid under the surface for a while and desires I believe God wanted me to see from the beginning, but my own plans always got in the way. He is teaching me to have grace in my ‘failures,’ and know that He even uses those to grow me and explore who I am and where He’s taking me and my family on this new journey.
I definitely don’t have it right yet, but I think I’m finally starting to lean into that lesson of trusting God with my journey. I hope that I can continue to grow in that deepness of trust and continue to open my hands up and offer him my dreams (big and small) and find clarity in the fact that He is ultimately in control and I don’t have to be.
Dear Readers - it is me, your fearless Writer. Today, I abdicate my throne of blogship and hand control over to my dear friend Lindsay. By the time you read this, I will probably be flying somewhere over your head, on my way to a much needed vacation.
I am leave you in very dry, very capable hands.
Let's get aquainted.
Lindsay is my southern sister. She has dry hands, long eyelashes and a huge heart. She owns a massive collection of scarves and faints easily, much like a goat. She works with teenage girls for a living and I hope she continues to do so until I have a teenage daughter to hand over to her because, wow, does she love these girls. She teaches them to be passionate and intentional and bold, simply by being herself. As they're at an age where girls often fumble for identity, she takes her students by their faces and looks them in their eyes and tells them YOU ARE BELOVED. THAT'S WHO YOU ARE.
I love the way that Lindsay writes, because it reminds me of the way she lives and talks: with obvious - often hilarious - intensity. She is the fastest talker (and rapper) I know and her sentences often leapfrog, because she is so excited to get them out. Her intensity makes its way into her discipline, which is where she teaches me the most. This girl is hardcore and I'm so excited to unleash her upon you.
Lindsay blogs over at http://www.singingmysongwithgrace.blogspot.com/ so if you like what you see, head over there and follow her too. I promise it will be worthwhile.
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hello readers!
I am leave you in very dry, very capable hands.
Let's get aquainted.
Lindsay is my southern sister. She has dry hands, long eyelashes and a huge heart. She owns a massive collection of scarves and faints easily, much like a goat. She works with teenage girls for a living and I hope she continues to do so until I have a teenage daughter to hand over to her because, wow, does she love these girls. She teaches them to be passionate and intentional and bold, simply by being herself. As they're at an age where girls often fumble for identity, she takes her students by their faces and looks them in their eyes and tells them YOU ARE BELOVED. THAT'S WHO YOU ARE.
I love the way that Lindsay writes, because it reminds me of the way she lives and talks: with obvious - often hilarious - intensity. She is the fastest talker (and rapper) I know and her sentences often leapfrog, because she is so excited to get them out. Her intensity makes its way into her discipline, which is where she teaches me the most. This girl is hardcore and I'm so excited to unleash her upon you.
Lindsay blogs over at http://www.singingmysongwithgrace.blogspot.com/ so if you like what you see, head over there and follow her too. I promise it will be worthwhile.
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hello readers!
i am the biggest fan of marri's. this is such a treat for me to write on her blog, to be a part of her story, to partner in her journey. you have no idea, this is such a gift for me to virtually be here.
so since i'm here, let's be honest with each other. i'm an honest writer, words are how my soul breathes, so let's just dive right in.
i'm having a really hard time writing this.
i look back over my recent journey, over the last 3/4ths of 2012 and ponder and wonder and literally stand, mouth agape, at my life and at where He's led me. i couldn't begin to describe the heartache but the joy, the confusion but the peace, the uncertainty but the knowing God is God.
i'm having a really hard time writing this.
i look back over my recent journey, over the last 3/4ths of 2012 and ponder and wonder and literally stand, mouth agape, at my life and at where He's led me. i couldn't begin to describe the heartache but the joy, the confusion but the peace, the uncertainty but the knowing God is God.
and since i can't untangle and process through all of what God is doing with this part of my journey because it's not done yet, can i share someone else's journey? one of my favorite journeys, the journey of Jacob? would you so terribly mind that? (terribly mind? who am i, downton abbey?)
i've always been confused by jacob. he's a biblical character i haven't always understood. i think he's greedy and sneaky and selfish and prideful and his story is weird, isn't it? but then. that's who God loves to use. jacob always seemed like a wild card who didn't fit anybody's mold, a troublemaker that God was pursuing like crazy.
i've always been confused by jacob. he's a biblical character i haven't always understood. i think he's greedy and sneaky and selfish and prideful and his story is weird, isn't it? but then. that's who God loves to use. jacob always seemed like a wild card who didn't fit anybody's mold, a troublemaker that God was pursuing like crazy.
so in the story of jacob, he steals his brother esau's blessing and runs off to work seven years to marry rachel and has a dream about ladders to heaven. then he has lots of kids and becomes wealthy, runs away from his father in law, and then he finds out that his brother is after him. and he's afraid. he's distressed.
and so jacob is left alone in his camp and a man comes in the night and wrestles with him. and he keeps wrestling with jacob and jacob won't let go. the man touches his hip and jacob's hip is put out of joint, but jacob keeps wrestling through the pain. the man says, let me go! the day is coming. and jacob says NO. I WILL NOT LET GO UNTIL YOU BLESS ME. (i always gasp at this point in the story - the audacity!).
but then the man responds by asking him what his name is. "i'm jacob," he says. and the man says, "your name is no longer jacob, but ISRAEL, for you have striven with God and man and have prevailed." and then jacob is blessed by God. and jacob says, "i have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered."
i've been so intrigued by this exchange lately, this leg of jacob's journey. he wrestles, he doesn't let go, he's given a NEW name, he's blessed. i fear that if this had been me and if the man (God) had said let me go, i would have dropped the fight immediately. but he kept going. ann voskamp writes in her book "one thousand gifts" - "wrestle with God and beg to see the blessings."
and i think that's my biggest takeaway from crazy jacob. we can approach God and we can be real and we can say no! help me! blessings!? and we can cry out loudly. because we can believe that. He promises to be a God who not only hears our cries, but delivers and restores. i think this exchange can mean a lot of things. it means we can believe that God is a God who gives us blessings. and it's God that's in every wrestling - even and especially with people - and where there's God, there's good. how we respond to people is how we respond to the Lord.
we've striven with God. not against, but with. we're wrestling with God to find the 'what for, for what' of the brokenness we face. we're made new, given new names, and we're made more in the reflection of Jesus.
and the story continues. the next day, jacob meets his brother esau. esau runs up to jacob and embraces him and kisses him and they weep together. and in their exchange, jacob remarks, "God has dealt graciously with me." isn't that so good? the wrestling is grace.
so keep going. keep going. keep going. keep wrestling, keep fighting, keep honestly, boldly coming before God each and every day. He's not a friend who will gossip about what you've said, He's not someone you have to explain how you're feeling, He's not neutral about your existence. He loves you with a fiercely passionate love and He's good, He's really, really good. And it's your journey, your story - He's perfectly ordained it. He's gone before, He's right beside you, and He hems you in as you go.
blessed journey! may you wrestle and see all the many blessings of yours.
but then the man responds by asking him what his name is. "i'm jacob," he says. and the man says, "your name is no longer jacob, but ISRAEL, for you have striven with God and man and have prevailed." and then jacob is blessed by God. and jacob says, "i have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered."
i've been so intrigued by this exchange lately, this leg of jacob's journey. he wrestles, he doesn't let go, he's given a NEW name, he's blessed. i fear that if this had been me and if the man (God) had said let me go, i would have dropped the fight immediately. but he kept going. ann voskamp writes in her book "one thousand gifts" - "wrestle with God and beg to see the blessings."
and i think that's my biggest takeaway from crazy jacob. we can approach God and we can be real and we can say no! help me! blessings!? and we can cry out loudly. because we can believe that. He promises to be a God who not only hears our cries, but delivers and restores. i think this exchange can mean a lot of things. it means we can believe that God is a God who gives us blessings. and it's God that's in every wrestling - even and especially with people - and where there's God, there's good. how we respond to people is how we respond to the Lord.
we've striven with God. not against, but with. we're wrestling with God to find the 'what for, for what' of the brokenness we face. we're made new, given new names, and we're made more in the reflection of Jesus.
and the story continues. the next day, jacob meets his brother esau. esau runs up to jacob and embraces him and kisses him and they weep together. and in their exchange, jacob remarks, "God has dealt graciously with me." isn't that so good? the wrestling is grace.
so keep going. keep going. keep going. keep wrestling, keep fighting, keep honestly, boldly coming before God each and every day. He's not a friend who will gossip about what you've said, He's not someone you have to explain how you're feeling, He's not neutral about your existence. He loves you with a fiercely passionate love and He's good, He's really, really good. And it's your journey, your story - He's perfectly ordained it. He's gone before, He's right beside you, and He hems you in as you go.
blessed journey! may you wrestle and see all the many blessings of yours.
Anyone else out there reeeaally, really struggle with balance?
(Not physical balance, although those of you who have seen me attempt to board an escalator may beg to differ.)
I'm talking about balance in life. I feel like I never quite get it right - I'm always at one extreme or the other. I push myself way too hard, or I'm overrun with apathy. I floss my gums to shreds or I neglect them altogether. I sleep for 3 hours or 13 hours. I am a person of wild extremes and while there is something to be said for giving myself grace and accepting my uniqueness, there is a time to put that aside and strive for moderation.
This is especially hard for me in terms of accomplishment, the expectations I paint over my life.
I've been talking about adventure a lot lately, but I was really inspired by my brother. He recently moved to L.A. to pursue a career in films. He has been there for a little over 3 months and is mind-boggled that he has not made his big break yet. And when he calls me, frustrated and I laugh indulgently and give him Yoda pep talks (Silly Ryan, some time you must give it!), I start to realize how hypocritical I sound. My poor brother and I were born with a potent combination of Asian overachievement and Irish stubbornness. So, not only do we think,
So I write this as much for the Ryans of the world as I do for my backwards self:
No one really cares.
No one really cares!
Yes, it is important to have goals and aspirations. Yes, it is important to work hard. Yes, we were given gifts to use them and fear should never hold us back. But for goodness' sake, let's be honest: no one really cares that I already bombed my New Years resolution and missed a week of blogging. No one cares that Ryan hasn't landed a gig yet. No one cares that I didn't get published on my first try.
Because, as wise old Dr. Seuss said: the people who mind don't matter and the people who matter don't mind. The people who would be small and cruel and petty enough to criticize our accomplishments or lack thereof should not be given space in our heads. And the people who love us weep when we weep, laugh when we laugh and ultimately care about the state of our hearts. And they would remind us to remind our Asian-Irish hearts that we are not human doings, not human havings or strivings or accomplishings or winnings. We are human beings, beloved in that simple fact.
So, to the Ryans and Marris of the world and to my overachieving, stubborn old soul...hear this freedom:
You are not your film career.
You are not your book writing.
You are not your red hair or your brown hair.
You are not your freckles or your big head.
You are not your marriage.
You are not your singlehood.
You are not your adventure.
You are a human being and you are Beloved by a Good Shepherd who wastes nothing and in THAT your identity should rest.
It's so easy to jump to an extreme. To either shut down and decide not to care or to spiral out of control with plans and schemes and worries. But there has to be a balance, rooted in the truth of Belovedness.
When I was writing the Werewolf Jesus book, I had about a week to go until my deadline and I was nowhere close to my word count goal. I was in panic-mode, devouring Smartfood and popping headstands to increase bloodflow to my brain. I got a text from a friend, a writer that I so admire and it just said "bird by bird, Marri."
Bird by bird.
Fans of Anne Lamott will understand this, but for the rest of you, it basically means "baby steps." Something that I need to be reminded of nearly every day. It would never occur to me to take baby steps, to bite of only what I can chew, to set realistic goals. And, as I've said, it's ok that I am who I am. It's ok to be my unrealistically ambitious self. But at the root of most of my extremes is Fear, and that's what has no place in a life of freedom.
Fear says "Sure, God says He will provide for you, but just in case - you should make sure you obsess over the finances."
It sits on my shoulder and whispers "He says He is good, but what if His big, sovereign plan is to dangle authorship in front of you for the rest of your life, until you're old and full of regret? Maybe you should give up and eat some Easy Mac."
And the comforting thing is that His Love - that will not betray, dismay or enslave- sets us free from this polarizing Fear by offering balance. He tells us it's ok to live Bird by Bird. That the wonderful combination of our free will and His plan is that if we trust Him for the big picture, we can live in freedom and balance with the day by day. When all I can really control are my actions for this day, well, it really narrows my scope of worry. When all that matters is that I'm Beloved, well, I don't feel overwhelmed by expectation.
I set out to write a much different post, but sometimes I guess you need to set yourself straight. Someone please email me my own words in approximately 18 days.
I should have fully forgotten them by then and will be in full panic mode that I am 25 and have yet to conquer the world.
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As always, I would love if you'd share this or opt to follow me here or on Twitter, etc, etc, etc. Maybe I'll even pass 100 followers soon?
(Not physical balance, although those of you who have seen me attempt to board an escalator may beg to differ.)
I'm talking about balance in life. I feel like I never quite get it right - I'm always at one extreme or the other. I push myself way too hard, or I'm overrun with apathy. I floss my gums to shreds or I neglect them altogether. I sleep for 3 hours or 13 hours. I am a person of wild extremes and while there is something to be said for giving myself grace and accepting my uniqueness, there is a time to put that aside and strive for moderation.
This is especially hard for me in terms of accomplishment, the expectations I paint over my life.
I've been talking about adventure a lot lately, but I was really inspired by my brother. He recently moved to L.A. to pursue a career in films. He has been there for a little over 3 months and is mind-boggled that he has not made his big break yet. And when he calls me, frustrated and I laugh indulgently and give him Yoda pep talks (Silly Ryan, some time you must give it!), I start to realize how hypocritical I sound. My poor brother and I were born with a potent combination of Asian overachievement and Irish stubbornness. So, not only do we think,
"I should accomplish everything, with perfection, as soon as humanly possible or forever shame my ancestors and bring dishonor upon my family",but we follow it with
"I CAN AND WILL DO EVERYTHING AND NOTHING YOU SAY CAN DISSUADE ME, YE ARSE."I know, I know - it's a really stupid way to live. It's exhausting and disappointing and extremely frustrating. And the hilarious reality is that we bring it upon ourselves. No one else it putting these expectations on us, no one else is pushing us this hard, no one else really cares about our goals and deadlines but ourselves.
So I write this as much for the Ryans of the world as I do for my backwards self:
No one really cares.
No one really cares!
Yes, it is important to have goals and aspirations. Yes, it is important to work hard. Yes, we were given gifts to use them and fear should never hold us back. But for goodness' sake, let's be honest: no one really cares that I already bombed my New Years resolution and missed a week of blogging. No one cares that Ryan hasn't landed a gig yet. No one cares that I didn't get published on my first try.
Because, as wise old Dr. Seuss said: the people who mind don't matter and the people who matter don't mind. The people who would be small and cruel and petty enough to criticize our accomplishments or lack thereof should not be given space in our heads. And the people who love us weep when we weep, laugh when we laugh and ultimately care about the state of our hearts. And they would remind us to remind our Asian-Irish hearts that we are not human doings, not human havings or strivings or accomplishings or winnings. We are human beings, beloved in that simple fact.
So, to the Ryans and Marris of the world and to my overachieving, stubborn old soul...hear this freedom:
You are not your film career.
You are not your book writing.
You are not your red hair or your brown hair.
You are not your freckles or your big head.
You are not your marriage.
You are not your singlehood.
You are not your adventure.
You are a human being and you are Beloved by a Good Shepherd who wastes nothing and in THAT your identity should rest.
It's so easy to jump to an extreme. To either shut down and decide not to care or to spiral out of control with plans and schemes and worries. But there has to be a balance, rooted in the truth of Belovedness.
When I was writing the Werewolf Jesus book, I had about a week to go until my deadline and I was nowhere close to my word count goal. I was in panic-mode, devouring Smartfood and popping headstands to increase bloodflow to my brain. I got a text from a friend, a writer that I so admire and it just said "bird by bird, Marri."
Bird by bird.
Fans of Anne Lamott will understand this, but for the rest of you, it basically means "baby steps." Something that I need to be reminded of nearly every day. It would never occur to me to take baby steps, to bite of only what I can chew, to set realistic goals. And, as I've said, it's ok that I am who I am. It's ok to be my unrealistically ambitious self. But at the root of most of my extremes is Fear, and that's what has no place in a life of freedom.
Fear says "Sure, God says He will provide for you, but just in case - you should make sure you obsess over the finances."
It sits on my shoulder and whispers "He says He is good, but what if His big, sovereign plan is to dangle authorship in front of you for the rest of your life, until you're old and full of regret? Maybe you should give up and eat some Easy Mac."
And the comforting thing is that His Love - that will not betray, dismay or enslave- sets us free from this polarizing Fear by offering balance. He tells us it's ok to live Bird by Bird. That the wonderful combination of our free will and His plan is that if we trust Him for the big picture, we can live in freedom and balance with the day by day. When all I can really control are my actions for this day, well, it really narrows my scope of worry. When all that matters is that I'm Beloved, well, I don't feel overwhelmed by expectation.
I set out to write a much different post, but sometimes I guess you need to set yourself straight. Someone please email me my own words in approximately 18 days.
I should have fully forgotten them by then and will be in full panic mode that I am 25 and have yet to conquer the world.
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As always, I would love if you'd share this or opt to follow me here or on Twitter, etc, etc, etc. Maybe I'll even pass 100 followers soon?
The great moments in my life are marked by redheads. My younger brother, much like a delectable salad dressing, is an Asian Ginger. I married into a family of wild redheads. Most of the awesome people I know rock shades along the spectrum of strawberry blonde to deep auburn.
Redheads are a rare and extraordinary people.
So when my redheaded friend Lydia set me up on a friend date with her redheaded friend Afshaan, I knew it would be legendary. Double the ginger, double the awesome, right? Right.
Afshaan is a delicious mixture of seeming contradictions: she is a redhead from India. She is softspoken and sarcastic. She is from Dorchester, but she is stylish (Southie burn!) And she is a writer who doesn't blog!
I had my first taste of Afshaan's deep and ancient wisdom (probably absorbed via osmosis while she roamed the hills of rural India) in a college creative writing course. I have been jonesing for another hit ever since, so when I saw an opportunity to force her into guest blogging for me, I jumped at it.
I was not disappointed.
Afshaan does not regularly grace the world with her writing, so if you like what you read, make sure to leave a comment to guilt her into doing so more often. Peer pressure is a powerful tool and together we can make a difference.
If you think her writing sucks, just do the polite thing by keeping your stupid opinion to yourself and instead harass her cool (brunette) musician boyfriend at http://reverendmusic.com/ . After all, he put her up to this.
Take it away, Ging.
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I've been reading my way - slowly and not too surely - through Genesis. I find the stories can be confusing and sometimes downright infuriating. As these people, these Israelites, are making their rambling way across the literal and personal deserts of their lives, I find myself getting a little... well, judge-y. Time and again I'm so annoyed and disappointed with these characters - why don't they keep their word? Why do they ignore God? Why do they live in fear? Why do they do these terrible things?
Redheads are a rare and extraordinary people.
So when my redheaded friend Lydia set me up on a friend date with her redheaded friend Afshaan, I knew it would be legendary. Double the ginger, double the awesome, right? Right.
Afshaan is a delicious mixture of seeming contradictions: she is a redhead from India. She is softspoken and sarcastic. She is from Dorchester, but she is stylish (Southie burn!) And she is a writer who doesn't blog!
I had my first taste of Afshaan's deep and ancient wisdom (probably absorbed via osmosis while she roamed the hills of rural India) in a college creative writing course. I have been jonesing for another hit ever since, so when I saw an opportunity to force her into guest blogging for me, I jumped at it.
I was not disappointed.
Afshaan does not regularly grace the world with her writing, so if you like what you read, make sure to leave a comment to guilt her into doing so more often. Peer pressure is a powerful tool and together we can make a difference.
If you think her writing sucks, just do the polite thing by keeping your stupid opinion to yourself and instead harass her cool (brunette) musician boyfriend at http://reverendmusic.com/ . After all, he put her up to this.
Take it away, Ging.
=======================================================================
I've been reading my way - slowly and not too surely - through Genesis. I find the stories can be confusing and sometimes downright infuriating. As these people, these Israelites, are making their rambling way across the literal and personal deserts of their lives, I find myself getting a little... well, judge-y. Time and again I'm so annoyed and disappointed with these characters - why don't they keep their word? Why do they ignore God? Why do they live in fear? Why do they do these terrible things?
I was starting to get a little fed up with these so-called people of God when I was struck by something. What if - for some crazy reason - someone decided that my life was worth writing about and documenting for the ages - an account that people would read for the next, I don't know, thousands of years, over and over again to try eke out some meaning, some spiritual truths. What would the story say? Well, first of all, kept to the bare facts, it would probably be a little boring. But also, it would probably be confusing and infuriating (sound familiar?). If someone were to actually write down my daily reactions (or non-reactions) to God, my repeated bungling of my life, my absolute forgetfulness of the amazing promises of God that are waiting to be claimed, they would probably be disappointed. Why didn't she keep her promise to that person? Why did she take the easy way out in that work situation? What is she so afraid of in life? Wait, HOW old is she and WHY doesn't she have her drivers' license yet? (This is a fact: I am 26 and haven't gotten my drivers' license yet.)
What if the petty little mistakes and deceptions of my day to day life, the lies I tell others and myself, the lack of regard I show to God and my friends (not to mention enemies!) - what if they were written down into a story and read by millions of people? Oh, it would be embarrassing, devastating. What I've grown to appreciate about reading through the Scriptures is that they don't shy away from the complete and utter failures of their characters. How was - on the one hand - David a man after God's own heart, and - on the other hand - a coward, an adulterer, a deceitful and disloyal friend? How am I - on one hand - called beloved, a child of God, worth fighting for, worthy of even death on a cross, and - on the other hand - an anxious, petty, fearful person who often chooses the path of least resistance even if it means being deceitful to myself or to others.
How is this possible?
What I've realised as I'm reading through these ancient stories, is that what makes these stories beautiful is God.
Are the stories of the Bible tales of perfect, sinless people who do perfect, sinless things? No, because it's a story about humans - and let's be real: perfection, sinlessness, and humans just don't coexist. No, it is a story - a journey, if you will (see, Marri, I'm incorporating the theme!) - of broken people traversing broken lands and making mistakes and being redeemed by God. Time and again God is faithful to them - allows for and covers their ugly humanity with His grace. Is a story about a group of brothers throwing their brother into a well and then selling him into slavery a beautiful one? Nope, not if it stops there. Is a story about God saving that forsaken brother and raising him into a position of dignity and power and growing him into a wise, compassionate, and godly man so that one day he might save the lives of those very brothers who betrayed him and relieve them of their hunger and shame - is that a beautiful story? Yes, absolutely. God consistently makes the small magnificent, restores the forsaken, emboldens the fearful, is a companion the lonely, makes the plodding pilgrimage into an adventurous journey - in short, He makes the unbeautiful beautiful.
And the most amazing thing - the Big Story that all these little stories are woven into - is that through Jesus, God did the impossible - he broke the time-tested equation that sinlessness and humanity do not coexist. He gave us a saviour who was human and could understand the daily aches and pains of being in these not-too-trusty bodies of ours. But he also gave us a way out: through his life, showed us an alternative way of living that was so beautiful it seemed (and is) impossible but for total reliance on God. Because God understands that weare beautiful and capable of acts of immense dignity and compassion, that we can grow - but he wants us to understand what we often sort of vaguely keep at the back of our minds: that true goodness, true dignity, true holiness is only possible through Him. Without His grace flooding our lives and filling in the broken, empty spaces, our lives - my life - are sort of just disconnected episodes of failures, half-hearted attempts at "being better," unkept resolutions, frustrating relationships.
No, he refuses to leave us at that.
He comes in there and adds colour and depth and joy and bravery and ADVENTURE! He says, "Come with me!" and we sort of look at him a little befuddled and scared and he's waving his hands and saying "No, seriously, come here!" and then we enter into His presence and you know what?
There's nothing like it.
He is calling us into His presence to make sense of our boring or maybe brazen lives, to take us in and make us beautiful. He is weaving our stories into His.
As I announced in last week's post, I'll be having some guest bloggers popping by over the next month or so. I couldn't be more excited to hear what these wise women have to say about our chosen topic: journey.
But until then, you are stuck with me and what I have to say about journey.
And it's funny because a wise author once told me to never quote anyone but myself on my blog. But here is the topic of journey, and it finds me a wide-eyed fool. So I have taken to quoting those much older and wiser and, well, I guess I'm okay with it after all.
And here it is:
Between watching The Hobbit over Christmas and my recent re-reading of The Chronicles of Narnia, (nerd alert) journeys have been on my mind a lot. Across lands, through rivers, over mountains.
For two crusty old academics, Tolkein and Lewis really knew how to create adventures, dangers and wild quests.
I've been on quite an adventure these past few months. First, I left my job in academic publishing to take some creative writing and advertising classes. Why?
Because I wanted to.
What? That's so unlike me!
That's where the adventure comes in, I think. The simple fact that it is illogical, inadvisable, but so strangely satisfying and peaceful at the same time. I can't really explain it or necessarily advise it to everyone else. Frankly, it doesn't make much sense.
But until then, you are stuck with me and what I have to say about journey.
And it's funny because a wise author once told me to never quote anyone but myself on my blog. But here is the topic of journey, and it finds me a wide-eyed fool. So I have taken to quoting those much older and wiser and, well, I guess I'm okay with it after all.
And here it is:
Between watching The Hobbit over Christmas and my recent re-reading of The Chronicles of Narnia, (nerd alert) journeys have been on my mind a lot. Across lands, through rivers, over mountains.
For two crusty old academics, Tolkein and Lewis really knew how to create adventures, dangers and wild quests.
I've been on quite an adventure these past few months. First, I left my job in academic publishing to take some creative writing and advertising classes. Why?
Because I wanted to.
What? That's so unlike me!
That's where the adventure comes in, I think. The simple fact that it is illogical, inadvisable, but so strangely satisfying and peaceful at the same time. I can't really explain it or necessarily advise it to everyone else. Frankly, it doesn't make much sense.
I always thought I'd be a career woman. When I was little and I would picture Adult Me, I was always 24 years old, wearing a pencil skirt, working in a fancy office building in Boston and walking home from work. Last year, when I turned 24, I looked around and realized I had become Adult Me, in every sense- down to the pencil skirt.
Imagine my surprise when my heart sunk a little.
"That's it?"
This recent adventure has been one of abandoning my own stereotype of myself. Quitting these identities. Being free.
Sure, I was living my dream, but parts of me were suffocating there in that gray cubicle, under those stylish industrial lamps, reading page after page of manuscript. It felt like these things were slamming against the walls of my body, trying to break out or else fade away. I think perhaps these things were my gifts.
Maslow- that benevolent old Russian theorist- called them 'capacities', saying that,
I think we all have desires in our hearts. I think a good God placed them there, to nudge us on adventures. I used to see these nudges as tests, like I had to do something unpleasantly risky to prove myself or my faith. But the more I grow and beat back the Fear and learn about my specific weirdness and how it contributes to the Body of God at large, the more I start to feel that IT IS SO MUCH FUN.
He is good. He provides for these journeys and when I stop worrying about that aspect, well, I quite enjoy myself. Because, at the end of the day, I was created for this specific adventure and like C.S.Lewis said,
I used to think that God wrote formulas that our lives needed to shrink or snap into. Then I started to think that maybe He was writing love stories, lullabies to comfort and calm. But lately, I really have to say...I think he is writing adventures. You can't read the stories of the Old Testament without thinking about the wild and unexpected. About bravery, battle, journey and risk. I just finished reading a book that wondered if the crisis of fatherlessness that our country is facing isn't in part due to the lack of new frontiers. The void left when the great spirit of American pioneerism reached its end. I suppose that another whole post could be written on that subject, but my point is that I think there's something in us that yearns for quests.
And it seems that adventures are as myriad as the people who are called to them. I have friends who literally travel to the ends of the globe, friends who spend their days working with special needs children, friends who commit to the journey of adoption, friends who give up their salary to stay home with their kids. Friends who look at the American dream and trust that a Good Shepherd can dream bigger.
So how do you know when it's your adventure? How do you know that it's not just a wild urge or a whim born out of boredom?
In my experience, it's when you feel that nudge and your very responsible brain says, 'no, no let's be reasonable.' And your ever wild heart starts to obey your brain, but looks back longingly.
I think that's when you know.
When it somehow meets a wild and ferocious dream that maybe you never knew you had.
And I realize it's not always so easy.
Sometimes it feels like no doors are open. But I don't believe in that. I don't believe in spiritual claustrophobia. I am learning that there is always a door, but not always where you'd expect or feel comfortable seeing one. Sometimes it's a trapdoor that opens to a dead fall until you reach the next door. And that's scary!
And I worry that I'm starting to sound like a substance-less motivational poster, but my best advice is to defy the fear and chase that wild and ferocious dream. Because I don't believe that He knit us together with gifts and desires to sit comfortably and calmly in our routines. It seems He would agree with e.e.cummings that,
I am Beloved.
And chasing that identity is my greatest journey of all.
PS- Maybe you're wondering where my journey has led me most recently. Well, my partner from that irresponsible ad class of mine hired me as an intern in her agency. Yes, I am older than all of the other interns and yes, I spend most of my day answering the phone and stocking the fridge. Yes, I took a huge salary cut and my paychecks make me cry.
But I also get to WRITE and be CREATIVE and LEARN and feed my gifts.
He is good, all the time.
____________________________________________________________________________
As always, it is ever so appreciated if you'd follow/share. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Sure, I was living my dream, but parts of me were suffocating there in that gray cubicle, under those stylish industrial lamps, reading page after page of manuscript. It felt like these things were slamming against the walls of my body, trying to break out or else fade away. I think perhaps these things were my gifts.
Maslow- that benevolent old Russian theorist- called them 'capacities', saying that,
Capacities clamor to be used, and only cease their clamor when they are well-used. That is, capacities are also needs. Not only is it fun to use our capacities, but it is also necessary. The unused capacity can become a disease center, or else atrophy, thus diminishing the person.
I think we all have desires in our hearts. I think a good God placed them there, to nudge us on adventures. I used to see these nudges as tests, like I had to do something unpleasantly risky to prove myself or my faith. But the more I grow and beat back the Fear and learn about my specific weirdness and how it contributes to the Body of God at large, the more I start to feel that IT IS SO MUCH FUN.
He is good. He provides for these journeys and when I stop worrying about that aspect, well, I quite enjoy myself. Because, at the end of the day, I was created for this specific adventure and like C.S.Lewis said,
The place for which He designs them in His scheme of things is the place they are made for. When they reach it their nature is fulfilled and their happiness attained: a broken bone in the universe has been set, the anguish is over. When we want to be something other than the thing God wants us to be, we must be wanting what, in fact, will not make us happy.
I used to think that God wrote formulas that our lives needed to shrink or snap into. Then I started to think that maybe He was writing love stories, lullabies to comfort and calm. But lately, I really have to say...I think he is writing adventures. You can't read the stories of the Old Testament without thinking about the wild and unexpected. About bravery, battle, journey and risk. I just finished reading a book that wondered if the crisis of fatherlessness that our country is facing isn't in part due to the lack of new frontiers. The void left when the great spirit of American pioneerism reached its end. I suppose that another whole post could be written on that subject, but my point is that I think there's something in us that yearns for quests.
And it seems that adventures are as myriad as the people who are called to them. I have friends who literally travel to the ends of the globe, friends who spend their days working with special needs children, friends who commit to the journey of adoption, friends who give up their salary to stay home with their kids. Friends who look at the American dream and trust that a Good Shepherd can dream bigger.
So how do you know when it's your adventure? How do you know that it's not just a wild urge or a whim born out of boredom?
In my experience, it's when you feel that nudge and your very responsible brain says, 'no, no let's be reasonable.' And your ever wild heart starts to obey your brain, but looks back longingly.
I think that's when you know.
When it somehow meets a wild and ferocious dream that maybe you never knew you had.
And I realize it's not always so easy.
Sometimes it feels like no doors are open. But I don't believe in that. I don't believe in spiritual claustrophobia. I am learning that there is always a door, but not always where you'd expect or feel comfortable seeing one. Sometimes it's a trapdoor that opens to a dead fall until you reach the next door. And that's scary!
And I worry that I'm starting to sound like a substance-less motivational poster, but my best advice is to defy the fear and chase that wild and ferocious dream. Because I don't believe that He knit us together with gifts and desires to sit comfortably and calmly in our routines. It seems He would agree with e.e.cummings that,
It takes great courage to grow up and become who you really are.So yes, it's been scary and weird and at times extremely difficult to try and be who I really am and not the Adult Me that my littler self created. But it's also invigorating and freeing in a way I simply cannot explain. Because it reminds me of that deep and resounding truth: that I'm not my job, I'm not my apartment, I'm not anyone's expectations (especially my own) -
I am Beloved.
And chasing that identity is my greatest journey of all.
PS- Maybe you're wondering where my journey has led me most recently. Well, my partner from that irresponsible ad class of mine hired me as an intern in her agency. Yes, I am older than all of the other interns and yes, I spend most of my day answering the phone and stocking the fridge. Yes, I took a huge salary cut and my paychecks make me cry.
But I also get to WRITE and be CREATIVE and LEARN and feed my gifts.
He is good, all the time.
____________________________________________________________________________
As always, it is ever so appreciated if you'd follow/share. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Readers, it is time to kill some birds.
Bird 1: I made a promise to myself to start posting once a week in 2013. But, alas, I will be unavailable for 2 weeks in February. One week to move to a new apartment and one week to go to on vacation.
Bird 2: I'm still pretty intimidated by this self-marketing idea. I need more followers but I can only ask you to follow me so many times before it feels a little sad.
Here, faced with two birds I so desperately needed to slay, I saw the light. A genius scheme hatched itself in my head and started pecking at my brain. Aha!
The Stone: GUEST BLOGGERS.
It's so simple, so elegant, so all-encompassing.
I've decided that the best way to put off the dreadful self-pimp and to keep my resolution is to let other people entertain you in my absence. We both get some free marketing and I don't break my self-promise! (I checked with the Official Blog Commissioner and he said it still counts as posting, so don't try to catch me on a technicality. What's his name? It's Bill....Willman...the third. Don't try to contact him he is out sick. Hernia.)
So, three of my favorite wordsmithing friends will be visiting over the next few weeks. They have agreed to write so well that you are satisfied with my decision but not so well as to steal your allegiance from me. It's a tricky balance, but one I feel confident they can achieve.
It only seemed fair to give them a topic, since I sprung it on them last minute and with no real option to back out. I thought that since I will be off moving and traveling, that JOURNEY might be a good topic.
No? You don't like it?
Well, I don't really care.
I just saw The Hobbit and journeys seem very invigorating and significant to me right now. Plus, it can be interpreted many ways, so maybe one of my guests will post a karaoke video of "Don't Stop Believing". You can't be mad about that.
Bird 1: I made a promise to myself to start posting once a week in 2013. But, alas, I will be unavailable for 2 weeks in February. One week to move to a new apartment and one week to go to on vacation.
Bird 2: I'm still pretty intimidated by this self-marketing idea. I need more followers but I can only ask you to follow me so many times before it feels a little sad.
Here, faced with two birds I so desperately needed to slay, I saw the light. A genius scheme hatched itself in my head and started pecking at my brain. Aha!
The Stone: GUEST BLOGGERS.
It's so simple, so elegant, so all-encompassing.
I've decided that the best way to put off the dreadful self-pimp and to keep my resolution is to let other people entertain you in my absence. We both get some free marketing and I don't break my self-promise! (I checked with the Official Blog Commissioner and he said it still counts as posting, so don't try to catch me on a technicality. What's his name? It's Bill....Willman...the third. Don't try to contact him he is out sick. Hernia.)
So, three of my favorite wordsmithing friends will be visiting over the next few weeks. They have agreed to write so well that you are satisfied with my decision but not so well as to steal your allegiance from me. It's a tricky balance, but one I feel confident they can achieve.
It only seemed fair to give them a topic, since I sprung it on them last minute and with no real option to back out. I thought that since I will be off moving and traveling, that JOURNEY might be a good topic.
No? You don't like it?
Well, I don't really care.
I just saw The Hobbit and journeys seem very invigorating and significant to me right now. Plus, it can be interpreted many ways, so maybe one of my guests will post a karaoke video of "Don't Stop Believing". You can't be mad about that.
Last year at this time, my friend Knuck and I set out to read the entire Bible together in 12 months. We were going to encourage each other to stay on track, keep a blog and maybe even someday write a book about the experience.
Well, I am currently reading 2nd Samuel.
Yes, in one long year I made it through 10 of the 66 books of the Bible. According to my handy schedule, I should have reached this point last February.
Yes, in one long year I made it through 10 of the 66 books of the Bible. According to my handy schedule, I should have reached this point last February.
But oh, how fitting a book to be failing with.
First and Second Samuel mostly tell the stories of David - how this little shepherd boy was chosen by God from all of his older brothers to succeed Saul, Israel's first king. How he single-handedly took down the giant Goliath, led the Israelite armies to victory, escaped the revengeful Saul and led the united nation of Israel. I've said before that David is one of my favorite people in the Bible and his stories reminded me of why.
David screws up all of the time. Repeatedly and stupidly and blatantly. It seems as soon as he gets back on his feet, he falls again. But, I’m always surprised at how simply and quickly he bounces back from these falls. I guess it's because I’m the type of person to stay down and wallow, hide and perseverate on what I did wrong. Plans crumble and I bite the dust, hard and I wonder where in the world I went wrong along the way. Because isn't that the hardest thing? To entrust to God with my past, my activity in my own story. It’s hard to trust that there is a divine plan in failure, when that failure scrapes at my overachieving heart with such intensity.
We know that David wrote most of the Psalms - they function somewhat like his prayer diary. My Bible has notes on which Psalms line up with different events recorded in 1 and 2 Samuel. When David is being hunted like an animal by a jealous Saul, mourning the death of his sons, or repenting for his many failures, we can read his responses to God during those times.
I'm struck by these prayers.
So many of the Psalms start in despair, matching so many of my prayers. But the end is where my perfectionist heart is taken aback. They most often end in joy, self-assurance, self-reminder: this God is mysterious, and powerful, but He is GOOD.
Through and through.
David has a fierce awareness not only of his failures, but of God’s goodness. He trusts in it completely and trusts that it is a ferocious, bottomless love for His people. David believes that no failure or fall could ever stack up against this Love.
And maybe this is what David understands, what I need to study.
David knows who his God is, over and above his circumstances.
and he knows that he is loved.
And maybe this is the reason for and lesson from pain, the seemingly pointless failures and falls. This is the asset in my losses. Maybe the Good Shepherd gives and takes away to remind me of where my open hands should be reaching. I don't have a kingdom at stake but there are idols I fall before every day. And maybe here, in the losses, the falls, the confusion He is saying:
LOOK.
LISTEN.
None of this defines you.
You are not your relationship. You are not your gifts. You are not your looks. You are not your health. You are not your job.
You are Beloved and you are Mine. And on that your identity shall rest.
And maybe this is the reason for and lesson from pain, the seemingly pointless failures and falls. This is the asset in my losses. Maybe the Good Shepherd gives and takes away to remind me of where my open hands should be reaching. I don't have a kingdom at stake but there are idols I fall before every day. And maybe here, in the losses, the falls, the confusion He is saying:
LOOK.
LISTEN.
None of this defines you.
You are not your relationship. You are not your gifts. You are not your looks. You are not your health. You are not your job.
You are Beloved and you are Mine. And on that your identity shall rest.
When I wrap my hands around things that could be taken from me: a job that I could lose, a relationship that I could screw up, then my life becomes a frantic scramble to hold tight to that thing. My priorities shift and arrange around that one thing. Because on some level I know it's broken and it's finite.
But what if I could try every day, like David, to wrap my hands, heart and identity around the one thing I know to be steadfast, pure and whole?
And when I failed every day, what if I just kept trying?
And when I failed every day, what if I just kept trying?
And what if my priorities and habits started to form around that quest?
Wouldn't that be better than building around something broken?
And when hardship came, wouldn't I be in a better place to respond?
And when hardship came, wouldn't I be in a better place to respond?
I know there are mild voices that will suggest 'you are your career' or 'you are a daughter' or 'you are a wife.' and I need to respond (wearily), "No, I am Beloved. Those things spring from the life in that truth."
And then there are the nastier voices, the fearful lies that will say, "you can't do this, you are scarred, you're not worthy, you're too broken." And to those voices I need to roar,
"NO! I AM BELOVED!"
And when seasons of doubt come and a sad and general stagnancy mourns, "you're alone in this" or "this is as far as you'll come", it needs to become as steady and automatic as my heartbeat:
No
No
And then there are the nastier voices, the fearful lies that will say, "you can't do this, you are scarred, you're not worthy, you're too broken." And to those voices I need to roar,
"NO! I AM BELOVED!"
And when seasons of doubt come and a sad and general stagnancy mourns, "you're alone in this" or "this is as far as you'll come", it needs to become as steady and automatic as my heartbeat:
No
No
NO
NO.
I am Beloved.
Beloved.
Beloved.
Beyond all of the crumbling, finite idols I throw myself before daily - the broken names and identities I trust in, the failures and the falls, there is a pure, good and unshakable voice that calls me Beloved. And that's what I need to chase. That's what will keep me close to God's heart, in every victory or defeat.
"For God alone, o my soul wait in silence, for my hope is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken." - Ps 62:5
_________________________________________
Like what you read?
I'd love it if you'd follow me here on Blogger, or as MaJeCla on Twitter.
Share, share, share - let's up those marketing stats!
Thank you, thank you, thank you in advance.
(I warned you that this was coming.)
NO.
I am Beloved.
Beloved.
Beloved.
Beyond all of the crumbling, finite idols I throw myself before daily - the broken names and identities I trust in, the failures and the falls, there is a pure, good and unshakable voice that calls me Beloved. And that's what I need to chase. That's what will keep me close to God's heart, in every victory or defeat.
"For God alone, o my soul wait in silence, for my hope is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken." - Ps 62:5
_________________________________________
Like what you read?
I'd love it if you'd follow me here on Blogger, or as MaJeCla on Twitter.
Share, share, share - let's up those marketing stats!
Thank you, thank you, thank you in advance.
(I warned you that this was coming.)
Dear That Time I Ran Through The Fountain On The Greenway,
Thanks for existing as you do, in the middle of summer 2012, late at night and a little hazy from free festival wine. I think that on some level, the freedom and buzzing exuberance I felt (before, during and after you took place) propelled me boldly through my 25th birthday and into this brave new re-adventure.
I'm giving myself one more crack at this publishing game and whenever that starts to scare me, I think of you and remember that the best writers live wild and well. Parts of me have slunk or gotten chipped away these past few difficult years and your memory never fails to reconnect me - even momentarily - to my deepest, truest, most alive self.
Also, you are one of my favorite Boston memories to date.
Also, I love that a man in a wheelchair flew through the fountain just as I was leaving. He not only makes you a more completely perfect story to tell, but his abandon makes me feel extra brave.
I owe you one,
MC
=========================================================================
Where did this weirdness come from?
Lately, I have become so enthralled by this writer that she seems to have seeped into my brainwaves. I've started thinking in thank-you note form. And as a firm believer in a good thank-you note - and all forms of gratitude - I am really quite okay with that.
Do I hope that I eventually am able to think and write normally?
Sure, but in due time.
Drew pooped his pants at school when he was 8. It is one of the best stories I have ever heard and I make him tell it all the time. The Poop Story is one of the most frequently and shamelessly used tools in our conversational arsenal as a couple.
Double date need an icebreaker?
The Poop Story.
Party getting boring?
The Poop Story.
New friendship needing a test as to whether it's worth our time?
THE POOP STORY.
(Is that weird? Are you curious now? Do you want to befriend me just so you can hear it? SEE- IT'S MAGIC.)
The Poop Story has never failed us, and there are times when I feel guilty that I don't have a poop story of my own. Like I'm really not really pulling my weight in this marriage. After all, the best story I have is The Mermaid Story and it isn't even really my story. It belongs to my brother and Tara Lipinski, God bless her heart.
...Sometimes I start to write a blog post and then I get distracted and forget about it. I found the above paragraphs, written over a year ago, filed in my 'drafts' folder under the cryptic label 'mumford'.
Where was I going with that story and how was I going to bring it back to Mumford???
Maybe I wrote it on a Vicodin bender after my wisdom teeth removal?
I haven't the slightest idea.
But, after I read it, I couldn't bring myself to leave it behind, so instead I used it to wickedly lure you in to this blog- and you fell for it because everybody (whether secretly or boldly) loves bathroom humor. So let's pretend I made a really witty and agile segue from that tidbit into what I am about to say:
========================================================================
Readers, I need your help:
I am working on a comeback. I need it to be big. Like, Britney big.
I know I've said it before, but I'm getting back on that wiley old horse named Authorship. It feels like the horse is oh, about 5 stories tall and I need to construct scaffolding just to get back in the saddle. But, I really want to do it and you can help me. (Please, help me.)
My first step is revamping my dusty old book proposal from 2 years ago. Social media has come a long way, even in two short years and I'd like to include some stats. Of course, my stats are currently less-than-impressive. The kids I used to nanny have more Twitter followers than I do and as you can see in the bottom right hand side of this screen, only 60ish of you actually follow me here. Can we try and change that? It's relatively easy to follow me here (Mom, just put on your reading glasses and click "Join this site") and my handle on Twitter is MaJeCla (I was starting to get a lot of creepy werewolf-fanatic type queries, so had to change things up. Thanks, Twilight.)
As a warning, I will be making a similar plea at the end of every post from here on out. That might get annoying, but since I gave you fair warning, you need to be okay with it when the time comes.
Whew. Glad that part is over. It's weird to promote yourself, isn't it?
(Not as weird as blogging about poop).
True.
For my part, I vow to make it more worth your while than it has been in the past.
I promise to post more than once a trimester (why do I still divide my years into trimesters?)
I promise to study my worn copy of Bossypants and try to be funnier.
I promise to use my brand new Smartphone to tweet like a maniac.
What else do you people want from me? I really want to know! Comment away.
(Or, if you wanted to share your own poop story in the comments section, that would also be appropriate and welcome.)
Thanks in advance.
Double date need an icebreaker?
The Poop Story.
Party getting boring?
The Poop Story.
New friendship needing a test as to whether it's worth our time?
THE POOP STORY.
(Is that weird? Are you curious now? Do you want to befriend me just so you can hear it? SEE- IT'S MAGIC.)
The Poop Story has never failed us, and there are times when I feel guilty that I don't have a poop story of my own. Like I'm really not really pulling my weight in this marriage. After all, the best story I have is The Mermaid Story and it isn't even really my story. It belongs to my brother and Tara Lipinski, God bless her heart.
...Sometimes I start to write a blog post and then I get distracted and forget about it. I found the above paragraphs, written over a year ago, filed in my 'drafts' folder under the cryptic label 'mumford'.
Where was I going with that story and how was I going to bring it back to Mumford???
Maybe I wrote it on a Vicodin bender after my wisdom teeth removal?
I haven't the slightest idea.
But, after I read it, I couldn't bring myself to leave it behind, so instead I used it to wickedly lure you in to this blog- and you fell for it because everybody (whether secretly or boldly) loves bathroom humor. So let's pretend I made a really witty and agile segue from that tidbit into what I am about to say:
========================================================================
Readers, I need your help:
I am working on a comeback. I need it to be big. Like, Britney big.
I know I've said it before, but I'm getting back on that wiley old horse named Authorship. It feels like the horse is oh, about 5 stories tall and I need to construct scaffolding just to get back in the saddle. But, I really want to do it and you can help me. (Please, help me.)
My first step is revamping my dusty old book proposal from 2 years ago. Social media has come a long way, even in two short years and I'd like to include some stats. Of course, my stats are currently less-than-impressive. The kids I used to nanny have more Twitter followers than I do and as you can see in the bottom right hand side of this screen, only 60ish of you actually follow me here. Can we try and change that? It's relatively easy to follow me here (Mom, just put on your reading glasses and click "Join this site") and my handle on Twitter is MaJeCla (I was starting to get a lot of creepy werewolf-fanatic type queries, so had to change things up. Thanks, Twilight.)
As a warning, I will be making a similar plea at the end of every post from here on out. That might get annoying, but since I gave you fair warning, you need to be okay with it when the time comes.
Whew. Glad that part is over. It's weird to promote yourself, isn't it?
(Not as weird as blogging about poop).
True.
For my part, I vow to make it more worth your while than it has been in the past.
I promise to post more than once a trimester (why do I still divide my years into trimesters?)
I promise to study my worn copy of Bossypants and try to be funnier.
I promise to use my brand new Smartphone to tweet like a maniac.
What else do you people want from me? I really want to know! Comment away.
(Or, if you wanted to share your own poop story in the comments section, that would also be appropriate and welcome.)
Thanks in advance.
I've been working out a little bit lately.
Those of you that know me, know that this is headline news.
I am not a person who works out.
I am a person who inadvertently gets exercise while riding my bike to an ice cream shop, dancing like a fool at a wedding or running to catch a bus.
I am a person who lives above a yoga studio, yet has only attended one class even though my membership is discounted and only then because I was promised sushi afterward.
I am a person who wears athletic gear to run errands for the smug and ridiculous satisfaction that the strangers around me probably think I came from some sort of cardio class. Suckers.
I am a person who lives above a yoga studio, yet has only attended one class even though my membership is discounted and only then because I was promised sushi afterward.
I am a person who wears athletic gear to run errands for the smug and ridiculous satisfaction that the strangers around me probably think I came from some sort of cardio class. Suckers.
I've had my fair share of beach highs, How I Met Your Mother highs, and even cheese highs...but I've yet to understand the famed 'runner's high'. And, luckily (thankfully) my Asian metabolism graciously allows for this.
But lately, I have been on a Chris Powell high.
Is anyone else out there a fan of Extreme Makeover: Weightloss Edition? No? Well, that's weird.
Chris Powell is a personal trainer who became famous for helping one of America's heaviest men lose over 400 pounds in 2 years. He travels around the country, facilitating these year-long 'transformations' of the country's obese, and documents their weight-loss journey. He looks like a beautiful little G.I. Joe, sounds like a teenage boy and HE MAKES YOU WANT TO GET RIPPED.
His first workout with a client is what he calls the 'fight or flight workout'. He says he can tell within the first hour of the workout how the rest of his year with this client is going to go. He pushes them farther than he knows their physical capabilities to be, so he can watch how they react. Most of them give up and try to walk away. They say "I can't! You don't understand!" and he will always come back with a resounding,
Chris gets it.
Every single one of these people end up blurting it out. It's always, always trauma. Abandonment, abuse, rape, failure, loss - Chris ever so compassionately explains that this is how people become morbidly obese. They don't just love food. They're all burying fear, burying that nasty voice in their head that whispers lies all day long. We all have that voice, we just drown it out differently: drugs, alcohol, relationships, knowledge, fitness, music, work...food.
From the first second of the workout, Chris shouts encouragement at his clients. He tells them "You are worthy! I chose you! You can do this! You are capable!" - and he says if you watch closely, you can see the moment when they stop listening to him - when the struggle exposes that fear and they start listening to its voice instead. He says you can see their physical stats drop, their energy decrease, their focus waver. And as a viewer, it gets frustrating. You think "what is wrong with you people!? Here is a nationally recognized expert in weightloss! He spent the last few days at a health institute with you, determining exactly what your body is capable of! Why would you doubt him??" But that's the thing about fear, especially when you're used to burying it:
Fear gets loud when you start to fight it.
Sometimes truth sneaks up on you.
Sometimes when you watch TV to hide from your own problems, God says 'nice try' and teaches you anyways. Sometimes the most important lessons come from the most unlikely sources.
Mine came from a 355 pound woman named Jacqui. She was the saddest, most insecure person I had seen on the show and I was certain she would be a 'flighter'. When that breaking point came, Chris told her,
"there's the door - you can leave whenever you want to."
This poor girl was sobbing from sheer exhaustion but she struggled to her feet and she said,
"I can't let my fear own me any longer."
And isn't that what it boils down to?
We've been over this. We know we're created for a fight, not flight. We know we're created to fight side by side. We know we have tools to give each other the courage we need.
And at the end of the day, who owns you?
What voice are you listening to?
I mean really listening, not just hearing and acknowledging. I mean trusting with all of your heart, your future, your health, your finances, your beginnings and your endings.
We all have that voice in our head that whispers lies. Call it Insecurity, Stress, Doubt, Sadness, Anxiety - it goes by many names, but if it's not Love, it's Fear.
......
There's another voice. The voice of an expert. The being who knit your cells together. The being who has already numbered your days and charted your path. The being who knit Himself some cells, just so he could come down here and have them torn apart to show us this:
You are WORTHY!
I CHOSE you!
You CAN do this!
You ARE capable.
FEAR WILL NOT OWN YOU ANY LONGER.
Because Fear is a liar and we have a choice, always a choice, about who we listen to.
These battles have been fought. He goes ahead of us to be sure.
Sometimes, when I lose focus, get weak, give in to Fear, I think of the Israelites in Deuteronomy. God has gone ahead of them into the Promised Land, conquered the giants who lived there and then He says, exasperated - "This is your land! I fought to give it to you! Go up and take possession of it!"
This is your life. This is my life.
I don't have all of the answers, but I do know that listening Fear is always a waste of time. These are our battles, but the voice that will give us the strength and courage to overcome is not the lies in our heads. It is the voice that says:
Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire, you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
Because you are precious in my eyes,
and honored,
and I love you.
Remember not the former things,
nor consider the things of old.
Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
::Isaiah 43
His first workout with a client is what he calls the 'fight or flight workout'. He says he can tell within the first hour of the workout how the rest of his year with this client is going to go. He pushes them farther than he knows their physical capabilities to be, so he can watch how they react. Most of them give up and try to walk away. They say "I can't! You don't understand!" and he will always come back with a resounding,
"WHAT ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF?"
Chris gets it.
Every single one of these people end up blurting it out. It's always, always trauma. Abandonment, abuse, rape, failure, loss - Chris ever so compassionately explains that this is how people become morbidly obese. They don't just love food. They're all burying fear, burying that nasty voice in their head that whispers lies all day long. We all have that voice, we just drown it out differently: drugs, alcohol, relationships, knowledge, fitness, music, work...food.
From the first second of the workout, Chris shouts encouragement at his clients. He tells them "You are worthy! I chose you! You can do this! You are capable!" - and he says if you watch closely, you can see the moment when they stop listening to him - when the struggle exposes that fear and they start listening to its voice instead. He says you can see their physical stats drop, their energy decrease, their focus waver. And as a viewer, it gets frustrating. You think "what is wrong with you people!? Here is a nationally recognized expert in weightloss! He spent the last few days at a health institute with you, determining exactly what your body is capable of! Why would you doubt him??" But that's the thing about fear, especially when you're used to burying it:
Fear gets loud when you start to fight it.
Sometimes truth sneaks up on you.
Sometimes when you watch TV to hide from your own problems, God says 'nice try' and teaches you anyways. Sometimes the most important lessons come from the most unlikely sources.
Mine came from a 355 pound woman named Jacqui. She was the saddest, most insecure person I had seen on the show and I was certain she would be a 'flighter'. When that breaking point came, Chris told her,
"there's the door - you can leave whenever you want to."
This poor girl was sobbing from sheer exhaustion but she struggled to her feet and she said,
"I can't let my fear own me any longer."
And isn't that what it boils down to?
We've been over this. We know we're created for a fight, not flight. We know we're created to fight side by side. We know we have tools to give each other the courage we need.
And at the end of the day, who owns you?
What voice are you listening to?
I mean really listening, not just hearing and acknowledging. I mean trusting with all of your heart, your future, your health, your finances, your beginnings and your endings.
We all have that voice in our head that whispers lies. Call it Insecurity, Stress, Doubt, Sadness, Anxiety - it goes by many names, but if it's not Love, it's Fear.
......
I know that whoever you are, you are fighting a battle, in some way or another.
Maybe it's a smaller battle, one that nibbles at you a little every day, but doesn't own you. Maybe it's the fiercest of your life and you feel alone. You are not.
You are WORTHY!
I CHOSE you!
You CAN do this!
You ARE capable.
FEAR WILL NOT OWN YOU ANY LONGER.
Because Fear is a liar and we have a choice, always a choice, about who we listen to.
These battles have been fought. He goes ahead of us to be sure.
Sometimes, when I lose focus, get weak, give in to Fear, I think of the Israelites in Deuteronomy. God has gone ahead of them into the Promised Land, conquered the giants who lived there and then He says, exasperated - "This is your land! I fought to give it to you! Go up and take possession of it!"
This is your life. This is my life.
I don't have all of the answers, but I do know that listening Fear is always a waste of time. These are our battles, but the voice that will give us the strength and courage to overcome is not the lies in our heads. It is the voice that says:
Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire, you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
Because you are precious in my eyes,
and honored,
and I love you.
Remember not the former things,
nor consider the things of old.
Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
::Isaiah 43
Why do I love weddings so much? Thanks for asking. It's because, given our physiological makeup, our society's influence and our nasty human nature, a lasting marriage in this day and age is almost 100% impossible.
And I LOVE when people try to do impossible things.
For those of you who asked, here is what I read at Brandi and Danny's loveliest of weddings. If you think it sounds eerily familiar, you'd be right- I pulled some of it from what I read at Big Guy's wedding here . Artistic license, kids.
In the book of Revelation, Jesus’ disciple John is trying to
describe his vision of Heaven. He is the only man I know of to see Heaven and
come back to tell about it. He describes it the best way he knows how, which
amounts to a lot of really bizarre metaphors and illustrations. But the one
that fills me with the most hope and the most joy is this:
John, trying to cram all of the perfection, beauty and unity
he saw up there into our whisperingly fragile language, describes Heaven as a wedding feast.
He describes the meeting of God and His children as what we
just saw, what we stood and rejoiced in, what we marvel over time and time
again : a bride, making her gorgeous and thrilling walk toward her first love.
We’re in the middle of something achingly beautiful and
sacred. Something that’s been planned for years, something that echoes with
significance and eternity.
We’re here today to celebrate the most beautiful thing this
side of Heaven.
The most important thing I’ve been told about marriage is
that we don’t have it in us to succeed at it. We’re all broken – we’re not
whole enough or pure enough for things like unconditional love or faithfulness.
The best thing marriage will do is throw you at the feet of our God who is.
In truth, weddings are beautiful because God is faithful.
I’m reminded of His faithfulness as I see Brandi walk
towards Danny, knowing her journey the way that I do and knowing that she
really has been walking toward him for years and years now. I’m reminded of the
watch that Brandi wears all of the time and how Danny found it when he was a
little boy and saved it, hoping to someday give it to the woman he loved. And
his faithful father led him straight to his Brandi-lin. You two have spent your
lives seeking and capturing beauty and God led you here, to each other.
This is something to celebrate.
He went before you all of these years, bringing you to this
place. And He will go before you always, being the strength you need to choose
Love, the grace you need to choose hope and the wisdom you need for all of your
adventures.
I’d like to close with a verse from Deuteronomy. It’s from a
speech Moses is making to the Israelites – they’ve been wandering the desert
for 40 years and at the edge of the promised land, they stop- afraid. Moses
stands before them and starts weaving a beautiful history for them, reminding
them of their journey to that place and how God has gone before them, faithful,
every step of the way.
He tells them:
Fear the Lord your God and serve him. Hold fast to him and
take your oaths in his name. He is your praise; he is your God, who performed
for you those great and awesome wonders you saw with your own eyes.
He is faithful, He makes us more than conquerors, bigger
than our giants (?) and stronger than our fears.
Love goes before you, like He always has.
And Love will always win.
***Like what you read? I'd love if you'd follow me here or on Twitter ( @WerewolfJesusBk) . That's right- this girl is stepping up her marketing game before the big proposal submission. Help a sister out!
***Like what you read? I'd love if you'd follow me here or on Twitter ( @WerewolfJesusBk) . That's right- this girl is stepping up her marketing game before the big proposal submission. Help a sister out!
i know i say this every once in a while, when the bro in me wants to warn you, readers, that we're about to dive into something not suited for a first date discussion...but this time i mean it:
it's about to get real.
really real.
drew and i had a nice little chat about Hell before bed the other night. (nothing like some light pillow talk...)
i've been thinking about it ever since.
i took an apologetics class in high school, which is where we were basically taught to 'defend' our faith against those vicious non-believers who would start attacking us just the second we graduated. (and it always seemed a little ironic to me to believe that something is absolute truth but then learn to defend it with my stupid human words.) one question they taught us we would be asked is this:
why would a good God send good people to Hell?
and in some ways, it's a perfectly logical question, given the depictions of Hell most of us are raised on. the movies, the christian conversion pamphlets, Dante, etc. if that was all i had to go on then, yeah- i might ask the same question.
why would a good God turn Gamemaker (couldn't help myself with the Hunger Games reference) and mastermind a torturous prison for people who don't profess faith? if satan is His enemy, why could He build him a volcanic playground and give him people to torture?
in short, why would He use His good powers to create evil?
and in my almost 10 years since high school, out here in the real world, i have yet to be asked that question. and maybe that just means i am not out among the people i should be out among. or maybe my friends just don't care.
but i've personally never had a problem explaining this to the imaginary people who ask me this from time to time.
if you take out all of the cliched images and corresponding assumptions, it really is quite simple.
at least i think so.
then again, i always tend to oversimplify things.
if we believe in a perfect God, then He would necessarily be perfectly just, perfectly peaceful, perfectly loving, perfectly kind, perfectly fulfilling, etc etc etc. if this good, perfect God creates us with free will and asks that we love Him and choose to be with Him eternally and we-by profession or action-reject Him, we would be rejecting all of the things He is.
do you follow me?
that means that Hell is not a place He masterminded to punish people who don't like Him. that would just be so silly and petty and...human. Hell is the perfectly logical outcome of our rejection of His invite. it's a vacuum created when Love, Peace and Kindness are removed. it's what we're left with when we opt out of The Giver of every good thing. and that makes perfect sense to me.
so no, i don't think Hell is a parallel dimension that also somehow exists at the molten core of Earth. i don't think demons will poke us with their forks and toast us over fires. i think Hell is what a soul feels when it's left with its choice and that choice is the absence of God. when the Mercy and Goodness woven throughout our broken world is lifted and the soul is crushed with the weight of everything imperfect. everything unGod.
yes, the Bible says that there will be groaning and gnashing of teeth and burning fire. but, in the same way that Heaven is not really a wedding, something tells me that Hell is not really a lake of fire. but really, how else would you find the human words to describe the harrowing sorrow of an existence without Goodness. we humans, by sheer Grace, have never known that feeling. we've never been touched by that white-hot anguish. it's hard to even imagine, much less capture in our helplessly small words.
so, why WOULD a good God send good people to hell?
He wouldn't.
and He doesn't.
more to come.
it's about to get real.
really real.
drew and i had a nice little chat about Hell before bed the other night. (nothing like some light pillow talk...)
i've been thinking about it ever since.
i took an apologetics class in high school, which is where we were basically taught to 'defend' our faith against those vicious non-believers who would start attacking us just the second we graduated. (and it always seemed a little ironic to me to believe that something is absolute truth but then learn to defend it with my stupid human words.) one question they taught us we would be asked is this:
why would a good God send good people to Hell?
and in some ways, it's a perfectly logical question, given the depictions of Hell most of us are raised on. the movies, the christian conversion pamphlets, Dante, etc. if that was all i had to go on then, yeah- i might ask the same question.
why would a good God turn Gamemaker (couldn't help myself with the Hunger Games reference) and mastermind a torturous prison for people who don't profess faith? if satan is His enemy, why could He build him a volcanic playground and give him people to torture?
in short, why would He use His good powers to create evil?
and in my almost 10 years since high school, out here in the real world, i have yet to be asked that question. and maybe that just means i am not out among the people i should be out among. or maybe my friends just don't care.
but i've personally never had a problem explaining this to the imaginary people who ask me this from time to time.
if you take out all of the cliched images and corresponding assumptions, it really is quite simple.
at least i think so.
then again, i always tend to oversimplify things.
if we believe in a perfect God, then He would necessarily be perfectly just, perfectly peaceful, perfectly loving, perfectly kind, perfectly fulfilling, etc etc etc. if this good, perfect God creates us with free will and asks that we love Him and choose to be with Him eternally and we-by profession or action-reject Him, we would be rejecting all of the things He is.
do you follow me?
that means that Hell is not a place He masterminded to punish people who don't like Him. that would just be so silly and petty and...human. Hell is the perfectly logical outcome of our rejection of His invite. it's a vacuum created when Love, Peace and Kindness are removed. it's what we're left with when we opt out of The Giver of every good thing. and that makes perfect sense to me.
so no, i don't think Hell is a parallel dimension that also somehow exists at the molten core of Earth. i don't think demons will poke us with their forks and toast us over fires. i think Hell is what a soul feels when it's left with its choice and that choice is the absence of God. when the Mercy and Goodness woven throughout our broken world is lifted and the soul is crushed with the weight of everything imperfect. everything unGod.
yes, the Bible says that there will be groaning and gnashing of teeth and burning fire. but, in the same way that Heaven is not really a wedding, something tells me that Hell is not really a lake of fire. but really, how else would you find the human words to describe the harrowing sorrow of an existence without Goodness. we humans, by sheer Grace, have never known that feeling. we've never been touched by that white-hot anguish. it's hard to even imagine, much less capture in our helplessly small words.
so, why WOULD a good God send good people to hell?
He wouldn't.
and He doesn't.
more to come.
I don’t know if it’s the samurai or the leprechaun in us, but from the stories my parents tell, my brothers and I were some spunky little kids.
they tell how my big brother received a tinfoil bravery medal for calmly riding his kindergarten bus from one end of the route to the other when the bus driver forgot to stop at our house.
they tell how mute little toddler me found my voice to scream at playground bullies picking on my brother.
they tell about little Ryan, sitting through 22 stitches to his 4 year old face.
we had some guts, some grit.
they tell how my big brother received a tinfoil bravery medal for calmly riding his kindergarten bus from one end of the route to the other when the bus driver forgot to stop at our house.
they tell how mute little toddler me found my voice to scream at playground bullies picking on my brother.
they tell about little Ryan, sitting through 22 stitches to his 4 year old face.
we had some guts, some grit.
Little kids are spunky. Little kids have bizarre reserves of courage.
And I’ve been thinking a lot about courage as I write this Katniss series and fight my own battles. Sometimes I look at my life and think ‘when did I get so fearful?’ ‘what happened to that little lioness, finding her voice and facing her monsters?’
It seems the older I get, the more aware I am of the harshness of this world and the more fearful and guarded I become.
Am I the only one who wishes she had the courage of her 5 year old self?
We use the term ‘bravery’ a lot with little kids, in the very physical sense. Tinier versions of ourselves had a lot of things bigger and scarier than us to face. Big dogs, big cars, big noises, big Chuck-E-Cheese characters. As adults, our ‘strangers’ and ‘bullies’ and ‘monsters’ take on the form of less tangible fears. Illness. Failure. Depression.Unemployment. Death. Divorce. Loneliness. Debt. – and bravery becomes less quantifiable and more elusive. More complex.
I’ve been attending a Presbyterian church and the service has more liturgy than the services I am accustomed to. I’ve grown to love this liturgy – the steadfast cadence of tradition – it makes me feel grounded and surrounded. One of my most cherished components of the Presbyterian tradition is the “Extending of Peace”. In the most modern sense, this is a “meet and greet” portion of the service, where you greet your church family and welcome visitors. But the hard core Presbyterians actually use this time to extend peace, which thrills me. The first time it happened, I was having a dark day, fighting some battles and feeling stormy and anti-social. An old woman approached me and before I had time to look busy or run to the bathroom, she asked me my name. I told her and she took my hand in both of hers, looked into my eyes and said my name and then simply “the peace of God.”
Now I’m not a person who is given to dramatics or exaggerations, but dammit, if I didn’t feel peace coursing through my veins, calming my storms.
I so often forget the power of the Spirit that we as God’s children have living in us. I forget how the deep calling out to deep can shake the foundations of my day. I forget that we’re agents of peace and vessels of the Spirit, passing peace from soul to soul.
And I wonder if something similar happens with courage.
Bear with me.
I’ve shared how it’s been difficult to start writing again. Difficult to face my monsters and be brave, put on my armor and fight. It seems whenever I’m ready to lay down and give up, someone sends a message or writes a letter or gives me a little pep talk that encourages me.
I mean it literally fills me with courage.
And I wonder if that’s the key.
Is this why kids are so brave? Because we tell them all of the time that are capable of winning their battles? That they are worthy of the fight? Because it’s so easy to tell a kid he is smart but somehow so difficult to tell your coworker that they are patient. If we see a little girl on a bus, it’s so easy to say “well don’t you look pretty!” but when is the last time we told our aunt she looks pretty or told the cashier at rite aid that she has a nice smile?
Like the passing of peace in a Presbyterian church service, can we pass courage to each other? Like the lighting of candles at Christmas eve, could we make each other stronger and braver?
I’ve talked about fighting, I’ve talked about armor, I’ve talked about being each others’ shields. But what happens when all of those things are in place but you’re lacking courage?
What if you’re an adult, facing your adult-sized monsters and you just don’t feel brave?
I understand that our courage should come from Christ, that perfect love casts out fear, that He that is within us is greater than that which is in the world.
I know that.
And I know we all know that.
But perhaps there is a function of the Body here that we’re overlooking.
I saw a quote on Pinterest the other day that summed it up well:
“we could discover the mysteries of the universe if we could stop being dicks for 5 seconds.”
(sorry for the language, Mom) but this is what I'm really trying to say.
(sorry for the language, Mom) but this is what I'm really trying to say.
How different, how much braver, how much more proactive would we all be if we took the time to extend courage to each other? Maybe it’s because I’m a New Englander and we are notoriously cold and reserved. Maybe all of you big-hearted Midwesterners and laid-back West Coasters and sunny Southerners encourage each other all day long. Maybe Boston is a little too long on intellect and short on goodwill.
As my brothers and I were growing up, so full of scrappiness and zest, my mom always quoted Thumper, that wise Disney sage: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” But to reverse Thumper’s logic –
If you have something nice to say, SAY IT.
Make someone brave. Extend courage.
Let’s be nicer to each other. Let’s win some battles.
oh my GOSH it's embarrassing to share with you how many life parallels i felt while watching Bridesmaids. there is so much i want to share about how (sadly and comfortingly) i am kristin wiig's character, annie - but first, i should explain:
i am the type of person who gets sucked right into a movie- any and every movie. i find someone in the movie i relate to and i just...embody them for the next hour or so. this is probably why i don't do so well with war movies and horror movies. and why Homeward Bound was so confusing.
at the point in the movie when the cop-with-the-great-accent (wish i could remember his name and wasn't too lazy to look it up) is pushing annie to start baking again, i looked down and realized my knuckles were white. i have some bony-ass hands and i was clutching the armrest so hard my skeleton was popping through. i became aware of the MASSIVE amounts of tension i was feeling on behalf of annie and myself in my weird, movie-fusion mind.
we (annie and i, that is) couldn't believe he would suggest such a thing!
our bakery just went bankrupt a year ago!
we had poured our heart into it, not to mention our life savings!
doesn't he know it's not so easy to just "get back on the horse"!!??
sometimes the things you love - be they cupcakes or books- turn on you. like a beastly little snapping turtle, they whip around and bite you. and heart-healing isn’t so easily remedied as a snapping turtle bite. there’s no protocol, no frame of reference, no ‘if symtoms persist after ___ time, consult a physician.’
a baby step.
a baby blog post.
and i'll just end with this:
in my first katniss post, i talked about the armor of God being open on the backside - a sure sign we're not meant to retreat.
well, the second thing my mom told me about the armor of God is that the type of shield referenced as the 'shields of faith' we are to be wielding is an interlocking type. so this armor we've been left with and the fight we are fighting is not meant to be a solitary one, as much as it may seem that way sometimes.
i'm blessed with people in my corner who fight with and for me. people who hand me over to my heavenly father and sit with me in silence when there are no words to say. of course, much like annie, my first, second and third reaction is to refuse help, choose to fight and flail alone, and then cry about how alone i feel.
this is selfish
and it is a choice - one it took me a while to realize i was making.
if you're fighting your fight and feel like you are alone, look around. what are the choices you are making? do they alienate you from the rest of the Body or do they link you in for protection?
you are a piece in a larger picture.
your shield-your faith- is a piece in a larger machine.
stop pulling your cog from the machine.
stop withdrawing.
stop it with the pride.
stop depriving the rest of His Body from the life-giving joy of loving you.
because you never know who else is left exposed when you take your shield and strike out on your own.
don't be like us. (me and annie, talking in creepy unison) don't let months go by before you give in and ask for help/admit you're sad/let someone lift you up. because falling back into a line of shields that link with yours is probably the greatest strategy of all.
i am the type of person who gets sucked right into a movie- any and every movie. i find someone in the movie i relate to and i just...embody them for the next hour or so. this is probably why i don't do so well with war movies and horror movies. and why Homeward Bound was so confusing.
at the point in the movie when the cop-with-the-great-accent (wish i could remember his name and wasn't too lazy to look it up) is pushing annie to start baking again, i looked down and realized my knuckles were white. i have some bony-ass hands and i was clutching the armrest so hard my skeleton was popping through. i became aware of the MASSIVE amounts of tension i was feeling on behalf of annie and myself in my weird, movie-fusion mind.
we (annie and i, that is) couldn't believe he would suggest such a thing!
our bakery just went bankrupt a year ago!
we had poured our heart into it, not to mention our life savings!
doesn't he know it's not so easy to just "get back on the horse"!!??
sometimes the things you love - be they cupcakes or books- turn on you. like a beastly little snapping turtle, they whip around and bite you. and heart-healing isn’t so easily remedied as a snapping turtle bite. there’s no protocol, no frame of reference, no ‘if symtoms persist after ___ time, consult a physician.’
speaking less cryptically, it has been hard to start writing again.
i’ve spent the last year and a half kicking a rock down a road- if a rock was my manuscript and the road my mind. it’s hard to understand sometimes why things don’t work out and how resources disappear and when to keep trying and when it is wiser and gentler to put things to rest.
i’ve spent the last year and a half kicking a rock down a road- if a rock was my manuscript and the road my mind. it’s hard to understand sometimes why things don’t work out and how resources disappear and when to keep trying and when it is wiser and gentler to put things to rest.
like annie, i guess i have been worried that if i try again, if i open up my dreams again, with all of their fresh skin and scar tissue, that it will just be another sadness, another disappointment for myself and everyone in my corner.
but after all of that katniss talk and the responses that came in, i have to admit: that’s no way to live. hiding doesn’t count as living. and simply living doesn’t count as fighting.
so i will take a cue from annie and just bake one cupcake.a baby step.
a baby blog post.
and i'll just end with this:
in my first katniss post, i talked about the armor of God being open on the backside - a sure sign we're not meant to retreat.
well, the second thing my mom told me about the armor of God is that the type of shield referenced as the 'shields of faith' we are to be wielding is an interlocking type. so this armor we've been left with and the fight we are fighting is not meant to be a solitary one, as much as it may seem that way sometimes.
i'm blessed with people in my corner who fight with and for me. people who hand me over to my heavenly father and sit with me in silence when there are no words to say. of course, much like annie, my first, second and third reaction is to refuse help, choose to fight and flail alone, and then cry about how alone i feel.
this is selfish
and it is a choice - one it took me a while to realize i was making.
if you're fighting your fight and feel like you are alone, look around. what are the choices you are making? do they alienate you from the rest of the Body or do they link you in for protection?
you are a piece in a larger picture.
your shield-your faith- is a piece in a larger machine.
stop pulling your cog from the machine.
stop withdrawing.
stop it with the pride.
stop depriving the rest of His Body from the life-giving joy of loving you.
because you never know who else is left exposed when you take your shield and strike out on your own.
don't be like us. (me and annie, talking in creepy unison) don't let months go by before you give in and ask for help/admit you're sad/let someone lift you up. because falling back into a line of shields that link with yours is probably the greatest strategy of all.
I rode on a motorcycle for the first time the other day. It was a rash decision, which is very unlike me but very much like Katniss. As I sat there, clinging to the driver, I thought what the hell am I doing? I’m flying through the dark, going 60 mph up the deadliest highway in the nation, wearing a t-shirt for protection.
I pictured the Grim Reaper pulling up next to me on his death-cycle, fueled by fresh souls, my hand involuntarily shooting out to give him the middle finger. He just shakes his head wrong move, lunchmeat.
I’m going to die.
And yet, in the very next second, I was filled with total calm – almost an indifference.
Whatevs, if I fall off, I’ll just tuck and roll, like Katniss would do. If my arm gets all torn up and riddled with gravel, I’ll just make a salve from native plants and tie my bra over it. No big deal.
Who is this Katniss and why is she making me so stupid?
I’ve been reading the Hunger Games and who knew I would see reflections of God in a tween book series? I don’t want to ruin it for others, so quick synopsis: it’s a futuristic series about a girl named Katniss who is chosen to participate in The Hunger Games, which is her country’s take on the gladiator games. She and 27 other children are thrown into the woods to fight to the death for the entertainment of wealthy spectators who watch via hidden camera.
Twisted, politically charged and totally addictive.
It’s been putting me in this weird combative/survivalistic mindset. I see everything as a challenge, an obstacle to destroy. I imagine my life as a battle and somedays that doesn’t feel so far off.
Sometimes you go through something so horrific that, by human instinct, you build armors around your soul. You bury your most precious selves so they won’t get damaged. You grow scaly shields of sarcasm. You go numb. You barb your words. You retreat quietly. You hurt before you can be hurt. You hide. Psychologists say that these types of reactions can be lumped into two categories: fight or flight. I think we all like to think we are fighters – that we’d win the Hunger Games if such a thing existed. But the truth is it is much easier to flight - to hide - and at times, just seems smarter, safer.
I told a friend I saw myself in Katniss and she said she was hesitant to say so, but that she thought the same thing. At first, I was flattered. I am such a badass. Until her words sunk in. I was hesitant to tell you. In the end, Katniss isn’t really a character to be admired. She is a survivor – but because she deals in cowardice, manipulation and apathy. What I first saw as courage on her part ends up seeming like recklessness. She is someone who has nothing to lose. And that's not someone I want to become.
I was talking to my mom recently, telling her about my battles. Telling her how weary I feel. How I feel constantly under attack. And she reminded me that at the end of the day, people who chase God have an enemy in this world. There’s a powerful darkness that resists goodness, grace and love. It would be stupid to act like there isn’t – there’s evidence all around us. We’re all in some form of turmoil. She reminded me of my Sunday school days, learning about the armor of God. How it’s real- it’s not just a silly teaching tool.
And the Katniss in me sat up to listen.
My mom said the first thing you notice about the armor of God is that it leaves your back exposed. Apparently, God didn’t create us and equip us to retreat. He prepared us for a fight.
And this is somewhat startling to me.
I guess I associate fighting with rash people, with angry people, with reckless people. I guess I thought that angry people fought and Christians loved. Christians surrendered. Christains said “well, God has a plan in this”.
We use a lot of soft words in American Christianity and maybe it’s because we live in a country with serious relational voids, but it ends up making me feel weak. Like amidst all of the meekness and forgiveness and Grace and humility, the word “fight” feels too sharp. But the more I learn about love the more I realize that real love – not romantic comedy love or soft, spineless love, but Bible love-is synonymous with strength, with battling and grappling and FIGHTING.
In His words to us, God tends to place love in direct contrast to fear, time and time again. Sociologist Robert Griffith Turner tells us “you must choose love or fear, you cannot have a little of each.”
Love is not passive. Love is not a retreat. Love is not hiding.
Love is fighting.
Jesus – the physical embodiment of Love- left us with armor. He gave us belts of truth and breastplates of righteousness and swiftness that comes from the Gospel of peace and shields of faith and helmets of salvation and swords of the Spirit – not so that we can haul them off to some cave and wait out the pain and hide from our attackers. He left us all of that stuff so that we can fight through this life. He says in Ephesians “Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.” In other words, fight until you have nothing left…and then fight some more.
I’ve heard it said “be kinder than necessary – every person you meet is fighting some sort of battle”. I believe this. The bad things in this world don’t just happen to us. We were thrown into this arena for a reason. If you’re running from your battle, thinking it’s safer, smarter, more self- preserving, more Christian to hide, hear me when I say this:
turn around and fight.
Reject fear.
Choose love.
Fight for the things that truly, in-the-name-of-Love-ingly matter.
Fight for your family. Fight for your marriage. Fight for your sanity. Fight for your relationships. Fight for unity. Fight for wholeness. Fight for forgiveness. Fight for justice. Fight for growth. Fight for your health. Fight for joy.
Because at the end of the day, you weren't meant to be a Katniss. You were created to fight for things that matter- not because you have nothing to lose, but because in a world of thieves that come to kill and destroy, He chose to give you life. and He died so you could live it to its fullest. Hiding and retreating doesn't count as living.
He’s given you everything you need. Now say a prayer and turn around.
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