Routine. Order. Consistency.
These are things I crave, yet can only taunt me with a small semblance of their presence in my life.
Transition. Change. Newness.
These are things that I have more than enough of right now.
I wish there was more of a balance, that things would slow down and start normalizing. But before we know it, the holidays will be here with their own set of expectations. A new year will start with even more change. And my longings will only partially be fulfilled.
In the end, I know this is a good thing, this spin cycle of transition. I'll recirculate and come out on the end a new (hopefully more mature) person. But I can't help but dig my heels in at times. I find myself fighting the pull to curl up and let it pass. It's too difficult to "get out there," too challenging to fight the pull towards equilibrium. Yet, I know that I need to push through. There are goodness and lessons to be found in the chaos.
I find myself being inspired by stories lately of those who have persevered--the immigrant who works 40 hours a week then puts themselves through college at night, the single mom juggling 3 children and a career, the youth who has surpassed countless odds to make a name for themselves. Perhaps I'm in awe of their tenacity, the sheer resilience they exhibit. Perhaps I wonder about my own ability to dig deep and bounce back if I were in their shoes. Even so, their lives serve as an encouragement, a picture of what happens when you keep on trying.
So, today I find myself setting my alarm early, even if I don't have an appointment to get up for. I search the internet for jobs. I volunteer to help out with a ministry at church. I ask people to get together to share a meal. And I write this blog. I remind myself of the blessings in my life and the new position God has placed me in. This season is different...it doesn't mean that it's bad. It just means I'll be uncomfortable (and at times irritable), but it's during these times that God's work is most richly done. I am forced to rely on Him--not my job, not my security, not even my "orderly" environment. He wants more of me, and He's cultivating something unseen in my life. What will it be? I'm not sure. In the meantime, may I trust Him and be open to what is in store (and perhaps work on being a little less irritable). :)
Monday, December 1, 2014
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
black snow
as a transplant from Tennessee, I have learned a few things about Chicago weather over the past 4 years. one is that winters are LONG and HARD. the snow, the wind, and the freezing temps will tend to linger on through March and even April at times. once you feel like it's over, there's another cold front that comes your way and snaps you back to reality.
yesterday was one of those days--sunny and 55 degrees. everyone rejoiced. people rode in their cars with their windows down (me). runners hit the pavement. men everywhere fired up their grills. any excuse to go outside was taken advantage of and I was no exception. so, as soon as I got home, I threw on my running gear and headed out the door.
one thing to note is that as I mentioned before, the winters are HARD. this winter was exceptionally so. (by the records it was the hardest in like 20 years or something--not just by own personal experience, which will also testify to that.) that means there was lots of snow. so much so, that as it gets plowed from the streets and parking lots, there are huge mounds that are formed on the sides of the streets. despite having temps above freezing for a few days, there were still some remnants of the snow mounds that remained at the bottom. as I was running and dodging lots of puddles of water from this melting snow, I had quite the obvious observation.
the snow that's left is dirty.
black.
grimy.
and horribly unpleasant to look at.
unlike any form of snow that falls from the sky, this snow has sat there for MONTHS and turned a shade of brown that it never should have. it has absorbed every ounce of exhaust from the cars that have driven past. it has picked up the dirt and grime off the street as it was slung onto it from day to day. it has soaked in the toxins from the environment around it.
this snow is an eye sore and it needs to go away.
but wait. isn't snow white and fluffy and the thing of "winter wonderlands?" isn't it pure and spotless? isn't it even represented in Scripture as something that cleanses us?
yes. it's true. in its natural state.
snow is clean until it's been corrupted by the environment around it. it's not spoiled until the wear and tear of the winter--the cars and the smog and the CO2 soak in, making it black and yucky.
and the thought hit me. I think people are like that too sometimes.
ever meet someone who is your same age, but looks 10 years older? from time to time at my job, I will have a client who fits this description. I am always amazed that we could have graduated the same year of high school and yet seem so utterly different. almost every single time, I find out it's the wear and tear of life that has gotten to them--the amount of struggle, pain, addictions, or issues they have gone through that have smudged off their luster a bit.
although outside appearances may be one indication, it's truly our hearts that are most impacted. ever meet someone who had it all together on the outside, but were crumbling away internally? once the heat turned up, and the outside veneer seemed to fade away, what was truly underneath finally showed. and that was dark, dirty, and a little worse for the wear.
honestly, we are all like these snow banks. we have been affected by sin, brokenness, and a corrupt world around us. those things can't help but rub off on us over time. so, when the spring comes and the temps soar, and the outside cleanliness is gone, the inner guts are revealed--and unfortunately, they are nothing but eye sores.
thank God for newness and cleansing that can only be found through Christ. if it were up to me, I'd keep shoveling on new snow to keep anyone from noticing the black grossness beneath. thankfully, I don't have to resort to that. ya know why? because that black crap gets taken away and replaced with new cleanness. there's no need to cover and hide, b/c it has all been taken care of through the cross. Jesus' blood has cleansed me in a way that my own efforts never could.
the Israelites in the Old Testament had a system in which they must make sacrifices for the cleansing of their hearts. the problem was, these sacrifices were never quite enough--the snow always melted and the blackness resurfaced. yet, when Jesus came, He served as the ultimate cleansing sacrifice.
"The blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkled on those who are ceremonially unclean sanctify them so that they are outwardly clean. How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God!" Hebrews 9: 13-14
"Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow." Psalm 51:7
may this season of Lent be a time that we reflect upon the cleansing sacrifice that only He can provide. thanks be to God for the newness that is found in Christ!
yesterday was one of those days--sunny and 55 degrees. everyone rejoiced. people rode in their cars with their windows down (me). runners hit the pavement. men everywhere fired up their grills. any excuse to go outside was taken advantage of and I was no exception. so, as soon as I got home, I threw on my running gear and headed out the door.
one thing to note is that as I mentioned before, the winters are HARD. this winter was exceptionally so. (by the records it was the hardest in like 20 years or something--not just by own personal experience, which will also testify to that.) that means there was lots of snow. so much so, that as it gets plowed from the streets and parking lots, there are huge mounds that are formed on the sides of the streets. despite having temps above freezing for a few days, there were still some remnants of the snow mounds that remained at the bottom. as I was running and dodging lots of puddles of water from this melting snow, I had quite the obvious observation.
the snow that's left is dirty.
black.
grimy.
and horribly unpleasant to look at.
unlike any form of snow that falls from the sky, this snow has sat there for MONTHS and turned a shade of brown that it never should have. it has absorbed every ounce of exhaust from the cars that have driven past. it has picked up the dirt and grime off the street as it was slung onto it from day to day. it has soaked in the toxins from the environment around it.
this snow is an eye sore and it needs to go away.
but wait. isn't snow white and fluffy and the thing of "winter wonderlands?" isn't it pure and spotless? isn't it even represented in Scripture as something that cleanses us?
yes. it's true. in its natural state.
snow is clean until it's been corrupted by the environment around it. it's not spoiled until the wear and tear of the winter--the cars and the smog and the CO2 soak in, making it black and yucky.
and the thought hit me. I think people are like that too sometimes.
ever meet someone who is your same age, but looks 10 years older? from time to time at my job, I will have a client who fits this description. I am always amazed that we could have graduated the same year of high school and yet seem so utterly different. almost every single time, I find out it's the wear and tear of life that has gotten to them--the amount of struggle, pain, addictions, or issues they have gone through that have smudged off their luster a bit.
although outside appearances may be one indication, it's truly our hearts that are most impacted. ever meet someone who had it all together on the outside, but were crumbling away internally? once the heat turned up, and the outside veneer seemed to fade away, what was truly underneath finally showed. and that was dark, dirty, and a little worse for the wear.
honestly, we are all like these snow banks. we have been affected by sin, brokenness, and a corrupt world around us. those things can't help but rub off on us over time. so, when the spring comes and the temps soar, and the outside cleanliness is gone, the inner guts are revealed--and unfortunately, they are nothing but eye sores.
thank God for newness and cleansing that can only be found through Christ. if it were up to me, I'd keep shoveling on new snow to keep anyone from noticing the black grossness beneath. thankfully, I don't have to resort to that. ya know why? because that black crap gets taken away and replaced with new cleanness. there's no need to cover and hide, b/c it has all been taken care of through the cross. Jesus' blood has cleansed me in a way that my own efforts never could.
the Israelites in the Old Testament had a system in which they must make sacrifices for the cleansing of their hearts. the problem was, these sacrifices were never quite enough--the snow always melted and the blackness resurfaced. yet, when Jesus came, He served as the ultimate cleansing sacrifice.
"The blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkled on those who are ceremonially unclean sanctify them so that they are outwardly clean. How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God!" Hebrews 9: 13-14
"Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow." Psalm 51:7
may this season of Lent be a time that we reflect upon the cleansing sacrifice that only He can provide. thanks be to God for the newness that is found in Christ!
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
lessons from music and poetry
This morning at work, we had a professor from Wheaton College, Dr. Jerry Root, speak to us about the topic of Evangelism. He's a very wise soul, one that you could sit and listen to for hours. In the span of our time together, he spoke not only about evangelism and sharing the Gospel, but about all sorts of life lessons and faith applications. One little snippet was a quote he shared from C.S. Lewis (he's a C.S. Lewis expert and scholar…to be expected). He talked about how we have the tendency to re-read books from time to time, and how it's not the lack of knowledge of the content or plot that keeps us reading them, but rather it's something in the book that tugs at our hearts and creates in us some sort of longing for "other," ultimately a longing for heaven. (Side note, Dr. Root also shared a story from the movie "The Notebook" and tied it to our deep relational need for God. We need more men in the world like him. :)) Hearing all this today while also re-reading "Searching for God Knows What" by Donald Miller has gotten me to thinking.
Books and movies tend to capture our emotions, sweep us away in a story, and touch the longings of our hearts. The same can be said for music, poetry, and art as well. I would even go so far to say that all of humanity has a certain form of appreciation for the arts in some capacity. There's nothing quite like a beautiful song, a dramatic plot, or a carefully placed brush stroke to catch our attention and tug at something deeper within us. And what is at the core of us, but our longing for God, for purpose, and for relationship? Yet, when it comes to our faith, we so often conceptualize it through the concrete and tangible--lists and rules, structure and organization. We want to know our spiritual performance, measure our religious growth, and assess our relational status. Yet, these structural concepts are not the things of sonnets or love stories. These don't speak the language of artistic masterpieces, rhythmical melodies, or a lingering kiss.
So, what gives?
Here's the thing. Let me share a little from my personal experience. I have never been "good" at feelings. Someone asks me how I feel, and my immediate response is "I think…" So, when it comes to my faith, the graph chart approach works really well. Break it down into something measurable, and I'm set. Want me to check off a list of to-do's and then mark my progress on a timeline? Sure, that would be great. I spent the majority of my childhood and early teen years in this mindset. Do this, don't do that, and get a gold star in heaven. Yet, turn the tables and ask me to "feel" and relate? That's much more uncomfortable and unknown.
But the truth is, our faith IS relational. It's dynamic and ever-changing. There's a definite time and place for structure and discipline (believe me!), but it cannot be the basis of our faith. We need the stuff of poets and lovers. We need a close, intimate relationship with God, the One who loves us more than human words could ever convey. No amount of structure or rules or formulas could ever replace or fabricate that.
May we be encouraged this week to bask in His presence and be overwhelmed by His love.
"See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" 1 John 3:1
Books and movies tend to capture our emotions, sweep us away in a story, and touch the longings of our hearts. The same can be said for music, poetry, and art as well. I would even go so far to say that all of humanity has a certain form of appreciation for the arts in some capacity. There's nothing quite like a beautiful song, a dramatic plot, or a carefully placed brush stroke to catch our attention and tug at something deeper within us. And what is at the core of us, but our longing for God, for purpose, and for relationship? Yet, when it comes to our faith, we so often conceptualize it through the concrete and tangible--lists and rules, structure and organization. We want to know our spiritual performance, measure our religious growth, and assess our relational status. Yet, these structural concepts are not the things of sonnets or love stories. These don't speak the language of artistic masterpieces, rhythmical melodies, or a lingering kiss.
So, what gives?
Here's the thing. Let me share a little from my personal experience. I have never been "good" at feelings. Someone asks me how I feel, and my immediate response is "I think…" So, when it comes to my faith, the graph chart approach works really well. Break it down into something measurable, and I'm set. Want me to check off a list of to-do's and then mark my progress on a timeline? Sure, that would be great. I spent the majority of my childhood and early teen years in this mindset. Do this, don't do that, and get a gold star in heaven. Yet, turn the tables and ask me to "feel" and relate? That's much more uncomfortable and unknown.
But the truth is, our faith IS relational. It's dynamic and ever-changing. There's a definite time and place for structure and discipline (believe me!), but it cannot be the basis of our faith. We need the stuff of poets and lovers. We need a close, intimate relationship with God, the One who loves us more than human words could ever convey. No amount of structure or rules or formulas could ever replace or fabricate that.
May we be encouraged this week to bask in His presence and be overwhelmed by His love.
"See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" 1 John 3:1
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