As some of you may know, on my facebook for the past month or so I have been using my status updates as a way to encourage my friends and let them know what I really think about them. These are just a few thoughts on what I have learned about myself and my relationships even in just this short time.
I am not very good at constantly staying in touch with people. I am the kind of person that, when I've befriended you, come hell or high water I'm your friend forever, whether or not I call you all the time or write you, or whatever. I understand not everyone is like that, though. I want to find a balance, be a little bit better about that because I know some people take it personally and it affects how they think that I view them.
I am not very good at communicating how I feel about someone on a day to day basis, except in certain situations--even then, my abilities in this area are marginal at best. I am good at making them feel good and loved, but not in telling them why it is happening. It's usually not necessary, based on the type of bond you have with that person, but it is immensely important to at least remember why you are friends with them. It can help you evaluate whether or not the relationship is healthy, for one thing. For most people, I could tell them I loved them or that I appreciated them or what have you, and they'll think it's a nice sentiment, but it doesn't really sink in. I know this isn't entirely my fault; our culture has dumbed down these phrases (or Hallmarked them, if you will) to the point where they don't mean as much. We also hear these things from people who we know don't love us because they never show it in their actions, so we're numb to it. I want to be better and telling people why I love them, whether that be through words, or whatever.
People forget why they are friends with each other. Easily. Especially with the convenience of facebook. I know I don't unfriend people because of a) I'm afraid they'll think I hate them or b) I'm afraid that I'll someday need to be in contact with them and all of a sudden I'm cut off. That's silly, for one thing. I don't ever want to become numb to or forgetful of how I feel about someone and why I am friends with them.
People want to be recognized as one you love and cherish. It's not a selfish thing, it's a knowing thing. People like to know, be known, and sometimes be publicly recognized as important to someone else. It increases their feelings of worth--yes, this should be found in things other than the praises of other people, but shouldn't we do all we can to cultivate feelings of worth in each other? Don't become a crutch, but don't rip their hair out in an attempt for them to find their worth in Jesus or something either.
I have also learned that I have many close friends (I consider them close, at least) and I am, in many respects, a good friend. I don't say that with pride, conceit, or whatever, I say it because I know the Christ in me is a good friend (in every sense of the phrase), and my soul has learned much from the example that I have with me all the time. Despite my shortcomings, I am a better friend than I give myself credit for--how else could I have the number of good friends (caliber wise) that I do? I rag on myself a lot for feeling like I fail as a friend all the time or that I am not a good enough one, but really I shouldn't focus so much on what I'm not good at--it only keeps me from seeing what I am good at and why I am loveable.
Well, that's it for now. This has been a fun thing to do and I look forward to writing a status about each of you. :) Thanks for reading.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
may he deal with me, be it ever so severely
"Then it hit me--I'm alone on my birthday. Even though people invited me to do things, I'm alone."
What does it mean to be a true friend? For that matter, why does it matter if you are a true friend or not?
Why does the word "friend" hold significance?
If I wanted to, I could elaborately elaborate on each of these questions; if you know me at all, you know this is an important topic to me. I want to be the best friend I can possibly be to every single person who is kind enough to embrace the term and count me as one also (I used to think it was mandated for me to be friends with everyone--news flash, not everyone is worth that kind of time, by their own choice, not mine). Friends mean something to each other. Friends stick closer than a brother, it's been said. Friends are supposed to see us through the good and the bad.
Why, then, does it seem as though being a friend seems to be the hardest thing anyone has ever done in their life? It shouldn't be.
How hard is it to keep your word, to simply do what you say you are going to? Is it difficult to remember a certain day, like, say, the day your friend was born? Would it hurt to once in a while be serious with someone and tell them how they make you feel and why you appreciate them? Or is that just too much depth? I don't ask these questions to attack anyone, but to ask. Why is being a friend hard?
That last question isn't difficult to answer: people think being a friend is hard because it requires something of them, and people don't like to work at things when it doesn't seem to be a gain somehow. They also all have their own ideas of what it means to have friends or to be one. They are not always totally wrong, but people also tend to treat people based on how they have been treated in the past, which just isn't fair. What I mean by this is, people tend to assume all people are the same. I don't think they mean to, exactly, but they do. They have had certain kinds of people in their lives before, so they take that to mean that every person they meet will be that way, whether it be negative or positive, really. Often times, however, they are concentrated mostly on their negative experiences, and they project that onto you, no matter how loveable you are. I know I've been guilty of this, but God is healing me. I'm changing. That means it's possible, right?
It shouldn't be hard to be a friend or have friends. But it is. Because we only think about ourselves.
Friends are important even to God; He called Abraham his friend, and that was before Jesus. David and Jonathan were closer than either had ever been with their brothers; when Saul (Jonathan's father) went after David, Jonathan kept his loyalty with David. It says in 1 Samuel, "...Jonathan became one in spirit with David, and he loved him as himself." 1 Samuel 20 is all about their friendship; he told David, "But if my father is inclined to harm you, may the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if I do not let you know and send you away safely." He takes an oath and makes a covenant with David (which was huge in that time) to protect him at all costs--against his father! "And Jonathan had David reaffirm his oath out of love for him, because he loved him as he loved himself." Later on in the story, Jonathan is merely having a conversation with his father and Saul throws a spear at him for just talking about David. Would you take a spear for your best friend? I would like to say I would. I really like this story because it takes place before Jesus even shows up on the scene to talk to us about blessing those who curse us and loving one another--it is evidence of God's love throughout all of time permeating our relationships.
Here's a little of what I think a friend--a real friend--is:
listen.
share.
sacrificial--time, money, possessions, etc.
enduring.
patient.
loving.
communicative.
willing.
sees your heart and you don't have to be afraid of it.
unafraid.
vulnerable.
would lay down their life for you.
I guess that is just a summary of what I think a true friend is. I've been blessed to have a few of these in my life and no, none of the friendships have been easy because we both had to work at it, but it has most definitely been worth it. I think the term "friend" has a lot of significance, especially when we are betrayed by one, is because we know it is supposed to mean more than it has become.
Well, instead of continuing on, I will say why I am writing this: firstly, because it's important for things like this to be said. Secondly because one of my best friends was very hurt today because someone who was supposed to be a friend dropped the ball. Big time. You don't treat my friends that way. Okay, before any of you jump on your religious high horse, let me clarify: I did not write this out of anger. I wrote it because it has been on my mind for a few weeks and this event just sort of spurred me on to writing about it finally. But seriously, does a person matter so little to you that you can't section off a brain cell to remember him?
I will end with this: if I consider you a friend, I am with you to the end. Many people would take that statement lightly or say it to anyone, but I don't. Not in the slightest. I would take a spear for you, without hesitation. Sure, some of you will scoff at this and say it's an easy thing to say, but Dena, really, in the face of a spear, how do you know what you would do? Well, I've done it. I've taken verbal spears, slapped people, jumped in front of charging horses (even ran in to save a bucking pony from a GIGANTIC fly--he almost took my eye out), without hesitation. It does not even enter my mind to save myself in those situations. And I could still stand to be a better friend. I don't say this to brag; only people who aren't really my friends will take it that way.
I would encourage anyone who read this whole thing to evaluate your friendships--especially how you are a friend to those around you. Thank you to those who have been a friend to me. :) I hope I can continue to be a better friend to all of you, and if I don't, may the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely.
What does it mean to be a true friend? For that matter, why does it matter if you are a true friend or not?
Why does the word "friend" hold significance?
If I wanted to, I could elaborately elaborate on each of these questions; if you know me at all, you know this is an important topic to me. I want to be the best friend I can possibly be to every single person who is kind enough to embrace the term and count me as one also (I used to think it was mandated for me to be friends with everyone--news flash, not everyone is worth that kind of time, by their own choice, not mine). Friends mean something to each other. Friends stick closer than a brother, it's been said. Friends are supposed to see us through the good and the bad.
Why, then, does it seem as though being a friend seems to be the hardest thing anyone has ever done in their life? It shouldn't be.
How hard is it to keep your word, to simply do what you say you are going to? Is it difficult to remember a certain day, like, say, the day your friend was born? Would it hurt to once in a while be serious with someone and tell them how they make you feel and why you appreciate them? Or is that just too much depth? I don't ask these questions to attack anyone, but to ask. Why is being a friend hard?
That last question isn't difficult to answer: people think being a friend is hard because it requires something of them, and people don't like to work at things when it doesn't seem to be a gain somehow. They also all have their own ideas of what it means to have friends or to be one. They are not always totally wrong, but people also tend to treat people based on how they have been treated in the past, which just isn't fair. What I mean by this is, people tend to assume all people are the same. I don't think they mean to, exactly, but they do. They have had certain kinds of people in their lives before, so they take that to mean that every person they meet will be that way, whether it be negative or positive, really. Often times, however, they are concentrated mostly on their negative experiences, and they project that onto you, no matter how loveable you are. I know I've been guilty of this, but God is healing me. I'm changing. That means it's possible, right?
It shouldn't be hard to be a friend or have friends. But it is. Because we only think about ourselves.
Friends are important even to God; He called Abraham his friend, and that was before Jesus. David and Jonathan were closer than either had ever been with their brothers; when Saul (Jonathan's father) went after David, Jonathan kept his loyalty with David. It says in 1 Samuel, "...Jonathan became one in spirit with David, and he loved him as himself." 1 Samuel 20 is all about their friendship; he told David, "But if my father is inclined to harm you, may the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if I do not let you know and send you away safely." He takes an oath and makes a covenant with David (which was huge in that time) to protect him at all costs--against his father! "And Jonathan had David reaffirm his oath out of love for him, because he loved him as he loved himself." Later on in the story, Jonathan is merely having a conversation with his father and Saul throws a spear at him for just talking about David. Would you take a spear for your best friend? I would like to say I would. I really like this story because it takes place before Jesus even shows up on the scene to talk to us about blessing those who curse us and loving one another--it is evidence of God's love throughout all of time permeating our relationships.
Here's a little of what I think a friend--a real friend--is:
listen.
share.
sacrificial--time, money, possessions, etc.
enduring.
patient.
loving.
communicative.
willing.
sees your heart and you don't have to be afraid of it.
unafraid.
vulnerable.
would lay down their life for you.
I guess that is just a summary of what I think a true friend is. I've been blessed to have a few of these in my life and no, none of the friendships have been easy because we both had to work at it, but it has most definitely been worth it. I think the term "friend" has a lot of significance, especially when we are betrayed by one, is because we know it is supposed to mean more than it has become.
Well, instead of continuing on, I will say why I am writing this: firstly, because it's important for things like this to be said. Secondly because one of my best friends was very hurt today because someone who was supposed to be a friend dropped the ball. Big time. You don't treat my friends that way. Okay, before any of you jump on your religious high horse, let me clarify: I did not write this out of anger. I wrote it because it has been on my mind for a few weeks and this event just sort of spurred me on to writing about it finally. But seriously, does a person matter so little to you that you can't section off a brain cell to remember him?
I will end with this: if I consider you a friend, I am with you to the end. Many people would take that statement lightly or say it to anyone, but I don't. Not in the slightest. I would take a spear for you, without hesitation. Sure, some of you will scoff at this and say it's an easy thing to say, but Dena, really, in the face of a spear, how do you know what you would do? Well, I've done it. I've taken verbal spears, slapped people, jumped in front of charging horses (even ran in to save a bucking pony from a GIGANTIC fly--he almost took my eye out), without hesitation. It does not even enter my mind to save myself in those situations. And I could still stand to be a better friend. I don't say this to brag; only people who aren't really my friends will take it that way.
I would encourage anyone who read this whole thing to evaluate your friendships--especially how you are a friend to those around you. Thank you to those who have been a friend to me. :) I hope I can continue to be a better friend to all of you, and if I don't, may the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
adventures in motherhood
Yes, everyone, it's true, I am a mother.
PSYCHE!
Nope, not yet, I just feel like one with the types of jobs I've had lately. I have started nannying for a 6 month old overnight three days a week, and lemme tell you, I have learned a lot about motherhood already and it's only been the first week. Prior to this, and even during this past week, I have also been baby-sitting a ton for several different families from my church. I have enjoyed observing the different parenting styles and kids these parents turn out; it's very interesting, to say the least.
One thing that has really been blasted in my face is the importance of parenting a child. I've known and understood for a little while now how important it is to be present with your kids, to really teach them, as I've been baby-sitting since I was ten years old (well, technically I was a live-in sitter for my youngest sister I guess. Mom says I was her second mom. :) This week, though, I see how crucial parenting, especially mothering, is in a child's life. A baby comes out knowing nothing but what it feels. It is the parent's job to teach it things about sleeping at certain times, eating good foods, being kind to others, respecting adults, etc. Kids don't just pop out knowing all this stuff, as much as we would like them to. It's important to not let them just run the show, especially not in the name of love. Some parents think they love their child, but letting him or her dictate how the day goes is a recipe for disaster, in my opinion, and not an example of true love. Contrary to a popular belief, this isn't what God does with us when we are newby Christians; we have to want and try to listen to him, he doesn't just step in and take over. Usually we are listening, but we don't do exactly what he says because we don't like it for this reason or that. A child has to choose to be responsive, and they usually will, but what child doesn't put up a little resistance to what the parent wants? They have a brain, just because it isn't fully developed doesn't mean they are incapable of making choices. It's the same for God.
I had a realization that I hope I get to use in a sermon someday about babies and baby Christians. The baby I nanny for has been experiencing some gas issues; she seems to be in a lot of pain when she needs to burp but it just won't come out. So she often wakes up in the middle of the night or interrupts a happy moment by suddenly pealing out in screams. I pick her up, rock her, walk around, pat her back, anything to help relieve her pain and calm her down. Then, she burps. Usually it's not very big. As I lay in bed one night, shortly after she'd woken up with one of these spells, I was thinking about how my back was hurting a lot that day and the fact that I wasn't screaming about it. Then it hit me; I am older and know more about my body and the world around me than that baby does, sweet as she is. I understand that a little bit of pain is not the end of the world and life will go on with or without it; screaming doesn't really help me any. (don't get me wrong, I've screamed in pain before, but now it's only for extreme pain, which is a high bar for me.)
Baby Christians (which can be any age, no matter how many years you've "been with the Lord", let's face it) are prone to screaming when faced with trials, no matter the kind (they tend to scream over very small ones, and it's usually self-inflicted or because they aren't trusting God). And I'm not talking about productive screaming that releases things to God and stuff like that. No, screaming because it hurts and they don't know how to coherently communicate their needs or don't know how to deal with pain. They scream and scream about a little pain in their belly...and then they burp. Usually it's not very big. Then they have one of two reactions: either they smile and laugh as God rocks them on his hip and life is good (until the next gas build up) or they get angry with God for not relieving their pain right away.
On the flip side, mature Christians tend to be the ones who know how to deal with pain (who also can be at any age, young or old). Plainly said, it's because they don't see the pain. Let me qualify: they see it all right, and feel it just as strongly, if not more so (since it's usually bigger issues), but they have learned to look beyond it towards the prize. Pain in this life, especially from trials, is temporal and nothing compared with the glory we have in Christ. They scream only when pressed to the point where their faith ends (because everyone is at a different place in their faith, depending on the area we're talking about) and it's still not to blame God. Their joy is lasting, their peace surpasses all understanding. They walk in the Fruit God gave us, so why wouldn't it be this way?
So, which kind of Christian are you? Obviously there are stages in between, just like with kids, but where are you on the spectrum? I'm not trying to imply that this is an act of works; Jesus is the good shepherd, HE is the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father but by him, so it's not based on what we do to attain goodness, but whether or not we accept the gift that is already there. You may be more of a baby Christian than you realize.
Anyway, I've learned this week that not only do I want to be a mature Christian, but I also want to parent my children well. This is the future we're talking about, folks. Are you really going to leave it up to chance? I want to parent my children into being mature Christians too, which more often than not means teaching them the foundations for having a relationship with Christ, and then letting them go. I don't mean we just let the bumpers down on the bowling lane, just that we don't try to push and shove them into the kind of Christian life we think they should have. If we lay the foundations correctly, you might just be surprised by how much they turn out to be like you wanted without your constant badgering.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
past, present, and future.
Whenever I write things down, I grow, but I also have to go back and re-read where I was before. This is an somewhat painful, but good thing. ;) I enjoy looking back on the journey though. Sometimes, upon reading something I wrote even just a few months before will reveal some nugget that I learned or experienced that helps my present self. Then I want to high-five past self. Sometimes, though, I just want to slap past self. I think it's better to high-five her, though, because she kept plowing on. She helped future self even if present self doesn't always think so.
How great are the plans of our God! He prepares us for things in such a subtle way long before we actually go through whatever it is we're heading towards. Our lives are just part of his brilliant work of art, his symphonic hands mold us in ways that make us more radiant than we could ever be on our own. He inspires me to do my own art to demonstrate what He has done in my life and in the lives of others.
How great are the plans of our God! He prepares us for things in such a subtle way long before we actually go through whatever it is we're heading towards. Our lives are just part of his brilliant work of art, his symphonic hands mold us in ways that make us more radiant than we could ever be on our own. He inspires me to do my own art to demonstrate what He has done in my life and in the lives of others.
the glass piece I finished over the summer and my lovely sister behind.
I haven't talked much about this piece unless someone asked. Charlene saw me working on it over the summer and she thought it looked creepy. ;) I suppose in a way it is. In case you can't read it at a glance, the paint is done around letters spelling the word "beauty." The color is purposely meant to look like blood (thanks to Trevor Tracy for helping me pick it out) and the pieces of glass are all glued on a larger piece at jagged angles to appear as though recently broken and scattered. Glass sometimes causes bleeding (although I only cut myself once while working on this!). There are probably several interpretations or explanations I could give for my choices in this piece, but my most general one is this: beauty sometimes comes from brokenness. In fact, I would daresay the most lasting beauty does come from its share of bleeding and transparentness. Take Jesus for example. His body was shredded and hung on a tree to give us life, and life everlasting. He bled. He was transparent. His blood covered all sin and renewed our chance at life, love, and hope. The most beautiful thing in the world was a bloody sacrifice. He endured what we deserve, he experienced every single kind of pain we could ever imagine--including rejection and loneliness--so he could show us he empathized in a way no one else could. The way no one else would. Our sin was transparent to him, but his blood covered it so all we saw was his beauty and glory.
Beauty is all around us, yes, but especially in the broken places. For it is in these broken places that the most beautiful thing of all shines the brightest. Jesus is our light in the dark and brokenness is dark, my friends. His blood is what covers it, not ours. All the bleeding we do whether metaphorically or literally for brokenness means nothing, whereas his means everything. That's a bit of what this piece is about.
His beauty covers my past, present, and future self. She is beautiful because of Him. He doesn't make junk. He only knows how to make art, even if it includes our junk.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
identity theft
It's true that you identity changes as your life goes on. Your identity is wrapped up in this current thing in your life, or that, but when it's over, there is this sense of emptiness or loss. Sometimes this is okay because your identity changes as you grow as a person, but, in a sense, I think I'm realizing that your true identity shouldn't ever change if you truly have the mind of Christ.
Identity is defined in the dictionary as:
Identity is much more that what you are doing. It is your being, what drives you, what you stand on, what enables you to really follow Christ into the fray. You don't change when you have an identity. Wrapping up one's identity in something they are doing is a very shallow, flimsy thing at best. You can wear a name tag that says, "Hello, my name is PhD, Masters in Divinity, Slimy-Know-It-All" or "Hello, my name is Deadbeat, Dropout, Loser", but that is not who you are. That is what you have done.
I thought I understood this, but with everything God's been showing me these last few months and what it's all coming together to mean, I see now that what He showed me before about who I am in Him was only a glimpse of who and what I really am to Him. It was enough to stand on for a time, but now life is hitting a new beat--time to really face Him and what He made me and abide in it.
There are some--some I've come into contact with recently, in fact--who set up a false identity for themselves because they want to be something. They think that if they want to be it bad enough or that if they can get enough people to believe it, they'll be it. They're wrong, though. Identity starts inside--much like character, and acting, consequently--and comes out. The song says, "from the inside out" doesn't it?
Unfortunately, associating with false identities or wrapping your identity up in something that is only what you're doing will cause emptiness and a sense of loss when whatever you've been doing comes to an end. I loathe fakeness. Loathe. Hate. Want to set on fire. I hate it especially when I get caught up in it. I refuse to do it anymore.
As I've jumped off this bridge, screaming to add to this cacophony of rhythm, God has challenged my identity. I have been one who tends to identify with whatever I am currently doing. Sometimes it was in my job, usually it was school or whatever I was going through. It labeled me. When I was confused, it gave me comfort. Good golly what a mess that was sometimes. It wasn't always bad, but it wasn't ever what I should've been doing. Going to Charis and working a lame job has helped draw this out into the light where I could really examine it. I came to Charis without very many expectations. I wasn't sure what it would be like; I hoped it wouldn't really be like the other Christian bubbles I'd been a part of, but I didn't know if it would be better or not. I went in hesitantly, observing before I plunged into anything. I'm so glad I made that decision. Instead of just jumping into a social network or into a lot of stuff that would get me noticed at school, I've floated under the radar for the first time in several years, but not in a self-conscious, shy way. I've experienced a lot of things and thought about much during this time, but what it has all come down to is my identity and where I am with God. It started with the fact that I didn't (and still don't) want Charis Bible College to be my identity. I didn't want to be a Charisite, didn't want to be someone who was all gung-ho about the school because I knew God was more than a good bible college. I also didn't want the physical challenges I experience to be my identity, so I have mentioned it to only a handful of people at school. I also didn't go out of my way to make a bunch of friends, especially because I didn't feel like I fit with most of them.
Instead, what has happened is I have made a few good friends, I have begun to really understand what it means to not fear man, I have had an interesting job and subsequently quit in a five month period, and I am enjoying the adventure. I've been sleeping through the night--what a joy! I'm the kind of person who doesn't sleep much when I'm upset, which is apparently the opposite from most people. I sleep best when I am at peace. Retaining the identity Christ gave me when I was born again has to be the most peaceful thing I have ever gone through.
You can know a lot of things about God and what He says, like how He says the "fear of man proves a snare", but understanding them is a whole different ball game. Turns out, not fearing people means having a true identity in Whose you are. Why should you be afraid of anyone or anything if the Creator of the Universe has your back? I've said that before, but holy crap, have you ever really thought about that? God does NOT abandon His own--that's something I've learned out here too. For too long I lived under the biggest lie--that sometimes God just drops me in order to teach me something, that He let's bad things happen to me so I'll be stronger. No, bad things happen because this world is tainted. He sent His son so that we might be redeemed and be able to confidently say He has our collective back once again. Whew. That's a different soap box. I might go on it sometime and actually provide scripture, but I'm just going to move on for now.
I haven't lived the holiest of lives since I've been out here, but I'd say I've gained so much more in this leap than I ever did in trying to live holy on my own strength. I think that matters more to God, and He matters a lot to me. The identity He gave me is pretty swell, if I do say so myself, and I'm not about to let anyone or anything cut in on my race anymore. Especially not me. I am my biggest roadblock in life. I often have to tell myself to get over myself. It can get confusing sometimes. No more identity theft by way of an inside job, or an outside, for that matter. Be loved, kay? Everyone's on a journey and I did understand this a bit, but now I see just how much I didn't see before...I see how selfish I've been. It's humbling to think that God's grace covers that and I can just go on with life. He doesn't hold it against me. What a great friend.
Identity is defined in the dictionary as:
the state or fact of remaining the same one or ones, asunder varying aspects or conditions: The identity of thefingerprints on the gun with those on file provided evidence thathe was the killer.
2.
the condition of being oneself or itself, and not another: Hedoubted his own identity.
3.
condition or character as to who a person or what a thing is:a case of mistaken identity.
4.
the state or fact of being the same one as described.
5.
the sense of self, providing sameness and continuity inpersonality over time and sometimes disturbed in mentalillnesses, as schizophrenia.
Identity is much more that what you are doing. It is your being, what drives you, what you stand on, what enables you to really follow Christ into the fray. You don't change when you have an identity. Wrapping up one's identity in something they are doing is a very shallow, flimsy thing at best. You can wear a name tag that says, "Hello, my name is PhD, Masters in Divinity, Slimy-Know-It-All" or "Hello, my name is Deadbeat, Dropout, Loser", but that is not who you are. That is what you have done.
I thought I understood this, but with everything God's been showing me these last few months and what it's all coming together to mean, I see now that what He showed me before about who I am in Him was only a glimpse of who and what I really am to Him. It was enough to stand on for a time, but now life is hitting a new beat--time to really face Him and what He made me and abide in it.
There are some--some I've come into contact with recently, in fact--who set up a false identity for themselves because they want to be something. They think that if they want to be it bad enough or that if they can get enough people to believe it, they'll be it. They're wrong, though. Identity starts inside--much like character, and acting, consequently--and comes out. The song says, "from the inside out" doesn't it?
Unfortunately, associating with false identities or wrapping your identity up in something that is only what you're doing will cause emptiness and a sense of loss when whatever you've been doing comes to an end. I loathe fakeness. Loathe. Hate. Want to set on fire. I hate it especially when I get caught up in it. I refuse to do it anymore.
As I've jumped off this bridge, screaming to add to this cacophony of rhythm, God has challenged my identity. I have been one who tends to identify with whatever I am currently doing. Sometimes it was in my job, usually it was school or whatever I was going through. It labeled me. When I was confused, it gave me comfort. Good golly what a mess that was sometimes. It wasn't always bad, but it wasn't ever what I should've been doing. Going to Charis and working a lame job has helped draw this out into the light where I could really examine it. I came to Charis without very many expectations. I wasn't sure what it would be like; I hoped it wouldn't really be like the other Christian bubbles I'd been a part of, but I didn't know if it would be better or not. I went in hesitantly, observing before I plunged into anything. I'm so glad I made that decision. Instead of just jumping into a social network or into a lot of stuff that would get me noticed at school, I've floated under the radar for the first time in several years, but not in a self-conscious, shy way. I've experienced a lot of things and thought about much during this time, but what it has all come down to is my identity and where I am with God. It started with the fact that I didn't (and still don't) want Charis Bible College to be my identity. I didn't want to be a Charisite, didn't want to be someone who was all gung-ho about the school because I knew God was more than a good bible college. I also didn't want the physical challenges I experience to be my identity, so I have mentioned it to only a handful of people at school. I also didn't go out of my way to make a bunch of friends, especially because I didn't feel like I fit with most of them.
Instead, what has happened is I have made a few good friends, I have begun to really understand what it means to not fear man, I have had an interesting job and subsequently quit in a five month period, and I am enjoying the adventure. I've been sleeping through the night--what a joy! I'm the kind of person who doesn't sleep much when I'm upset, which is apparently the opposite from most people. I sleep best when I am at peace. Retaining the identity Christ gave me when I was born again has to be the most peaceful thing I have ever gone through.
You can know a lot of things about God and what He says, like how He says the "fear of man proves a snare", but understanding them is a whole different ball game. Turns out, not fearing people means having a true identity in Whose you are. Why should you be afraid of anyone or anything if the Creator of the Universe has your back? I've said that before, but holy crap, have you ever really thought about that? God does NOT abandon His own--that's something I've learned out here too. For too long I lived under the biggest lie--that sometimes God just drops me in order to teach me something, that He let's bad things happen to me so I'll be stronger. No, bad things happen because this world is tainted. He sent His son so that we might be redeemed and be able to confidently say He has our collective back once again. Whew. That's a different soap box. I might go on it sometime and actually provide scripture, but I'm just going to move on for now.
I haven't lived the holiest of lives since I've been out here, but I'd say I've gained so much more in this leap than I ever did in trying to live holy on my own strength. I think that matters more to God, and He matters a lot to me. The identity He gave me is pretty swell, if I do say so myself, and I'm not about to let anyone or anything cut in on my race anymore. Especially not me. I am my biggest roadblock in life. I often have to tell myself to get over myself. It can get confusing sometimes. No more identity theft by way of an inside job, or an outside, for that matter. Be loved, kay? Everyone's on a journey and I did understand this a bit, but now I see just how much I didn't see before...I see how selfish I've been. It's humbling to think that God's grace covers that and I can just go on with life. He doesn't hold it against me. What a great friend.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
If I was writing about a broken heart, I'd start with yours.
Your story involves mine because it breaks mine, but not for the reasons I thought before. You see, all day I think of you, and all day I want to cry. I thought this was about me. I was wrong. I wanted to say that what I thought was a promise, was merely a loaded clip aimed at my heart. It was your heart that shattered though.
I was hurt--broken--too, until I knew your story. You see, that day you held my hand, that's when I fell for you. It's the day I still look back on when I want to be filled with joy and feel like I'm loved. For a while the memory also brought with it an ache, a dull slice across my heart. I admit, sometimes it still does. You were happy. I was happy. For me it was the first time in months that I had smiled so much. I know now you were starting to hurt then. I wish I had known. Then again, maybe that would've ruined it.
"Holding hands, feeding ducks. When I met you, that's what I wanted to do."
From the first day I knew you, I knew you were special. I didn't know you were like me, hiding your pain behind playful antics or somber wallflower acts. I thought you knew where you were, who you were, and what you wanted, nothing more. How could someone like you hurt? Your spirit was so lively to me. You helped me find my heart again, back on those swings. I didn't know it was hiding until then. I didn't know I was looking for it. I didn't know I was so blind.
Even when you lied to me, I still loved you. I didn't know then why the betrayal hurt so much, but now I think I do. I think it was because my hope was dashed a bit. Hope I'd had subconsciously that you wouldn't be like the rest. That betrayal wouldn't happen. Even when you lied, I learned to still be okay when it was over. Of course, I didn't know I loved you until after I was angry with you.
I once was blind, but now I see.
I see now, I see that I was blind. I wanted to know you before, but that desire was blinded by the stronger desire to be known by someone like you. I wish I could've been a better friend to you. I wish I could pretend that perhaps my life helped to distract you from yours, but I don't really know. I hope I did a mite better than I think I did.
I see now that you have been in pain for some time now, even when you were hurting me. I was so blinded by my own supposed agonies that I didn't touch yours. How could you feel whole when your world is falling down in threes? When what you really want doesn't seem to want you? I see now that what you thought was a promise, was merely a loaded clip aimed at your heart. Your gun wasn't even loaded when you aimed it at me. The pain I felt was self-inflicted.
Can you forgive me? Will you?
I don't think you know any of this. I am loathe to be more than a coward and actually tell you to your face. I wish I was braver.
I wish I could tell you what you are to me. A rainbow on a rotten day--a promise--wouldn't say enough to do you justice. Flowers blooming everywhere--but only in my mind. My heart erupting with light--which sounds a bit fatal, if you think about it. Your smile can make my soul soar and make me feel safter than being in the Bat Cave. I am absolutely petrified of the ocean, but I'd go in with you. But it's positively more than any of this! Those things are mere fragments of what I could say for you! The way you light up the lives of others, those around you, by simply being constant and wanting to be around them. The fact that you notice little things, that you live simply. That you are witty, clever, and quite the goon. You want to help others in a way that isn't necessarily noticed by everyone and their mother on national news. You listen. You care.
I guess I could keep gushing like a heartsick buffoon, but the time has come for me to say this: in this pain you are going through, I know He has you. I sometimes think I could reach out, take the pieces of your heart and mend them, but I can't do that as well as He. I talk to Him about you when I feel like crying. These days I'm crying for you. I know what it's like to feel pain and not know how to fix it. I know what it's like when all you want to do is hide from it and everyone else. He knows. He is a comforter and a friend. He wants you to know you are loved, always. That's something that's hard for me to grasp, too.
We're in this together, whether you like it or not. We'll know we're Loved or die trying.
I suppose it's true when they say love blinds you--a version of it does, yes, and in certain ways. Sometimes love is purely emotional and selfish. When His love light can finally break through that muck you've carved around you--that blinding light you thought was love--you'll really see. He's there and you're there and that's all that matters. Then you can see others--His light isn't blinding. I pray His love will shine through me ever brighter in the days to come, especially when it comes to you, my friend.
We'll see the lights coming off of us, illuminating what we really are--loved.
I once thought I'd be writing about my broken heart, broken over a silly thing like you. Now I see, though, that it's your heart that really needs the mending. Mine was just bent a little out of shape. You're a hero, I was a fool. Good thing there's grace for that too.
Your story involves mine because it breaks mine, but not for the reasons I thought before. You see, all day I think of you, and all day I want to cry. I thought this was about me. I was wrong. I wanted to say that what I thought was a promise, was merely a loaded clip aimed at my heart. It was your heart that shattered though.
I was hurt--broken--too, until I knew your story. You see, that day you held my hand, that's when I fell for you. It's the day I still look back on when I want to be filled with joy and feel like I'm loved. For a while the memory also brought with it an ache, a dull slice across my heart. I admit, sometimes it still does. You were happy. I was happy. For me it was the first time in months that I had smiled so much. I know now you were starting to hurt then. I wish I had known. Then again, maybe that would've ruined it.
"Holding hands, feeding ducks. When I met you, that's what I wanted to do."
From the first day I knew you, I knew you were special. I didn't know you were like me, hiding your pain behind playful antics or somber wallflower acts. I thought you knew where you were, who you were, and what you wanted, nothing more. How could someone like you hurt? Your spirit was so lively to me. You helped me find my heart again, back on those swings. I didn't know it was hiding until then. I didn't know I was looking for it. I didn't know I was so blind.
Even when you lied to me, I still loved you. I didn't know then why the betrayal hurt so much, but now I think I do. I think it was because my hope was dashed a bit. Hope I'd had subconsciously that you wouldn't be like the rest. That betrayal wouldn't happen. Even when you lied, I learned to still be okay when it was over. Of course, I didn't know I loved you until after I was angry with you.
I once was blind, but now I see.
I see now, I see that I was blind. I wanted to know you before, but that desire was blinded by the stronger desire to be known by someone like you. I wish I could've been a better friend to you. I wish I could pretend that perhaps my life helped to distract you from yours, but I don't really know. I hope I did a mite better than I think I did.
I see now that you have been in pain for some time now, even when you were hurting me. I was so blinded by my own supposed agonies that I didn't touch yours. How could you feel whole when your world is falling down in threes? When what you really want doesn't seem to want you? I see now that what you thought was a promise, was merely a loaded clip aimed at your heart. Your gun wasn't even loaded when you aimed it at me. The pain I felt was self-inflicted.
Can you forgive me? Will you?
I don't think you know any of this. I am loathe to be more than a coward and actually tell you to your face. I wish I was braver.
I wish I could tell you what you are to me. A rainbow on a rotten day--a promise--wouldn't say enough to do you justice. Flowers blooming everywhere--but only in my mind. My heart erupting with light--which sounds a bit fatal, if you think about it. Your smile can make my soul soar and make me feel safter than being in the Bat Cave. I am absolutely petrified of the ocean, but I'd go in with you. But it's positively more than any of this! Those things are mere fragments of what I could say for you! The way you light up the lives of others, those around you, by simply being constant and wanting to be around them. The fact that you notice little things, that you live simply. That you are witty, clever, and quite the goon. You want to help others in a way that isn't necessarily noticed by everyone and their mother on national news. You listen. You care.
I guess I could keep gushing like a heartsick buffoon, but the time has come for me to say this: in this pain you are going through, I know He has you. I sometimes think I could reach out, take the pieces of your heart and mend them, but I can't do that as well as He. I talk to Him about you when I feel like crying. These days I'm crying for you. I know what it's like to feel pain and not know how to fix it. I know what it's like when all you want to do is hide from it and everyone else. He knows. He is a comforter and a friend. He wants you to know you are loved, always. That's something that's hard for me to grasp, too.
We're in this together, whether you like it or not. We'll know we're Loved or die trying.
I suppose it's true when they say love blinds you--a version of it does, yes, and in certain ways. Sometimes love is purely emotional and selfish. When His love light can finally break through that muck you've carved around you--that blinding light you thought was love--you'll really see. He's there and you're there and that's all that matters. Then you can see others--His light isn't blinding. I pray His love will shine through me ever brighter in the days to come, especially when it comes to you, my friend.
We'll see the lights coming off of us, illuminating what we really are--loved.
I once thought I'd be writing about my broken heart, broken over a silly thing like you. Now I see, though, that it's your heart that really needs the mending. Mine was just bent a little out of shape. You're a hero, I was a fool. Good thing there's grace for that too.
Friday, August 26, 2011
my life is like a screamo song
Okay, screamo, metal, what-have-you, that's the type of song I'm talking about.
Apparently, according to urban dictionary, a screamo song is a throwback to emo songs of old. That's not exactly what I meant, so forgive me if I'm loose with the definition. Also, despite how it may sound in the following, I am a fan of the above genre. Don't hate.
Essentially, what I am and have been experiencing are moments of clarity punctuated by moments of absolute in-lucidity (I know that they're saying words when they're screaming, but I swear all I hear are gorilla mating calls--not to be associated with what I am about to discuss in similarity to my life) and a raw outpouring of feeling. It's not necessarily negative feeling, really, just a lot to let out sometimes, and a lot I don't really know how to explain at first. Everything is also very hardcore; as was pointed out once again the other day, I don't do anything halfway. Jessi Nichols once said, "Dena, everything you do, the way you live, is epic." (Epic, by the way, has more than the one meaning of being a poem like Homer. it also means of unusually great size or extent. It also means heroic or majestic, but let's not get too particular). Lately I've felt like this was true; I have an unusual life which involves me feeling like I'm not well understood in most cases--primarily with those closest to me (does that sound emo or what?)--yet another parallel to screamo. (I feel like this word should be hyphenated like 'scream-o' but then it just sounds silly.)
Sometimes people who listen to metal or screamo (emphasis on sometimes) are those who feel alone at times, even when surrounded by people who they know love them. Yes, we are loved, but are we known? I would almost be so bold to say that is the more intimate step of love, to know someone and to want to get to know them as they change and grow. The love one's family possesses for them is often unfailing and somewhat understanding, but there is often a lack of empathy. That's how it feels for me sometimes, anyway.
However, there is a harmonious feel to this life, also. The instrumental part of the song, sometimes a bass or guitar solo, which gives the song its rhythm, feel, and direction. This part is primarily why I like this genre; the music is not noticed at first a midst the gorilla cries, but it is the part that makes it listen-able. I don't know about any of you, but just listening to someone scream is grating and painful, especially if you can't understand what they're screaming about. Don't get me wrong, I can scream with the best of them (no offense to those of you out there without this ability) and screaming can be an effective way of release, but nobody really likes to listen to it, I don't care what they tell you.
Where am I going with this, you might be asking right now. Honestly I was asking myself the same thing (today has been rather lethargic--strange how tired you can be when you've done nothing all day). Here's the long and short of it: I have just jumped off one of the biggest bridges in my life and moved to Colorado Springs. Gotta say, not something I would have chosen to do on my own. It's been both exhilarating and frightening. God has come through in ways I never really imagined and that's the only thing that's made this worthwhile. I'm sure that's a rather negative way of looking at it--the adventure and chance to be in a new place has also been worthwhile. The chance to trust God in a new way--a much bigger way than I imagined--it's all been worth it. This doesn't mean it has come without moments of screaming. In some ways, I wish I wasn't here. I'm having to do a lot of hard things. I keep having to remind myself that I told God I wanted the hard things so I could grow and really become who he needs for my job on this earth. Be careful what you tell God in a moment of emotional upheaval when you feel stagnant.
Knowing and being known is an intimate relationship; it takes time and effort...it's the effort part that some miss. Lately I've been burned when it comes to certain friendships and even relationships within my family, but I still keep my head up, looking for the people God will bring that won't do this so easily. I constantly remind myself that people are fallible and will fail me at some point, especially if I have high expectations. What's harder to remind myself is that it's okay to hold people to some standards. It's been hard to see those who have left or I have had to leave behind. It argues with my nature, which is to never leave anyone behind. This bridge, in particular, has been one of the hardest and scariest to jump off. I usually maintain the mantra of, "I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it," but this one seemed to come up on me quick.
As I look back across the last five years or so, though, I see where I have jumped off many bridges. For some, I landed in a boat. For others, I landed in the water and was swept downstream. Somehow, though, I've always ended up where I needed to be and in one piece, so to speak. Actually, I've been shattered more times than I care to recount here, but I'm starting to glimpse the masterpiece God is building from the pieces. It has also been beautiful to see who I land next to sometimes; it's not usually who I expect, but I am thankful for each one who has come down the river with me after the crazy banshee known as Dena Williams landed in the boat or river next to them. For some reason they saw something in my life worth sticking with in some capacity. It hasn't always ended well, but it has made me who I am. That is the harmony, the symphonic part, I think, the masterpiece of love. It's easy to hear all the screaming (yes, occasional gorilla grunts) and be angry or sad or even excessively happy. The joy, however, is in the rhythm. All together, it makes a song.
So, yes, I spend a lot of time mentally screaming and being frustrated, but at the back of all of this, I can hear the melody stringing out a sweet song--not one normally heard in a screamo song, but a floating harmony made up mostly of violins. It's peaceful. It reminds me of Whose I am. Soon the music will overtake the screaming.
Regardless of where this has brought me, I'll still jump off the next bridge too, probably still screaming, but the music will be loud enough to hear over me. That's how He works.
"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret to being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all things through him who gives me strength." -Philippians 4:12-13
Apparently, according to urban dictionary, a screamo song is a throwback to emo songs of old. That's not exactly what I meant, so forgive me if I'm loose with the definition. Also, despite how it may sound in the following, I am a fan of the above genre. Don't hate.
Essentially, what I am and have been experiencing are moments of clarity punctuated by moments of absolute in-lucidity (I know that they're saying words when they're screaming, but I swear all I hear are gorilla mating calls--not to be associated with what I am about to discuss in similarity to my life) and a raw outpouring of feeling. It's not necessarily negative feeling, really, just a lot to let out sometimes, and a lot I don't really know how to explain at first. Everything is also very hardcore; as was pointed out once again the other day, I don't do anything halfway. Jessi Nichols once said, "Dena, everything you do, the way you live, is epic." (Epic, by the way, has more than the one meaning of being a poem like Homer. it also means of unusually great size or extent. It also means heroic or majestic, but let's not get too particular). Lately I've felt like this was true; I have an unusual life which involves me feeling like I'm not well understood in most cases--primarily with those closest to me (does that sound emo or what?)--yet another parallel to screamo. (I feel like this word should be hyphenated like 'scream-o' but then it just sounds silly.)
Sometimes people who listen to metal or screamo (emphasis on sometimes) are those who feel alone at times, even when surrounded by people who they know love them. Yes, we are loved, but are we known? I would almost be so bold to say that is the more intimate step of love, to know someone and to want to get to know them as they change and grow. The love one's family possesses for them is often unfailing and somewhat understanding, but there is often a lack of empathy. That's how it feels for me sometimes, anyway.
However, there is a harmonious feel to this life, also. The instrumental part of the song, sometimes a bass or guitar solo, which gives the song its rhythm, feel, and direction. This part is primarily why I like this genre; the music is not noticed at first a midst the gorilla cries, but it is the part that makes it listen-able. I don't know about any of you, but just listening to someone scream is grating and painful, especially if you can't understand what they're screaming about. Don't get me wrong, I can scream with the best of them (no offense to those of you out there without this ability) and screaming can be an effective way of release, but nobody really likes to listen to it, I don't care what they tell you.
Where am I going with this, you might be asking right now. Honestly I was asking myself the same thing (today has been rather lethargic--strange how tired you can be when you've done nothing all day). Here's the long and short of it: I have just jumped off one of the biggest bridges in my life and moved to Colorado Springs. Gotta say, not something I would have chosen to do on my own. It's been both exhilarating and frightening. God has come through in ways I never really imagined and that's the only thing that's made this worthwhile. I'm sure that's a rather negative way of looking at it--the adventure and chance to be in a new place has also been worthwhile. The chance to trust God in a new way--a much bigger way than I imagined--it's all been worth it. This doesn't mean it has come without moments of screaming. In some ways, I wish I wasn't here. I'm having to do a lot of hard things. I keep having to remind myself that I told God I wanted the hard things so I could grow and really become who he needs for my job on this earth. Be careful what you tell God in a moment of emotional upheaval when you feel stagnant.
Knowing and being known is an intimate relationship; it takes time and effort...it's the effort part that some miss. Lately I've been burned when it comes to certain friendships and even relationships within my family, but I still keep my head up, looking for the people God will bring that won't do this so easily. I constantly remind myself that people are fallible and will fail me at some point, especially if I have high expectations. What's harder to remind myself is that it's okay to hold people to some standards. It's been hard to see those who have left or I have had to leave behind. It argues with my nature, which is to never leave anyone behind. This bridge, in particular, has been one of the hardest and scariest to jump off. I usually maintain the mantra of, "I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it," but this one seemed to come up on me quick.
As I look back across the last five years or so, though, I see where I have jumped off many bridges. For some, I landed in a boat. For others, I landed in the water and was swept downstream. Somehow, though, I've always ended up where I needed to be and in one piece, so to speak. Actually, I've been shattered more times than I care to recount here, but I'm starting to glimpse the masterpiece God is building from the pieces. It has also been beautiful to see who I land next to sometimes; it's not usually who I expect, but I am thankful for each one who has come down the river with me after the crazy banshee known as Dena Williams landed in the boat or river next to them. For some reason they saw something in my life worth sticking with in some capacity. It hasn't always ended well, but it has made me who I am. That is the harmony, the symphonic part, I think, the masterpiece of love. It's easy to hear all the screaming (yes, occasional gorilla grunts) and be angry or sad or even excessively happy. The joy, however, is in the rhythm. All together, it makes a song.
So, yes, I spend a lot of time mentally screaming and being frustrated, but at the back of all of this, I can hear the melody stringing out a sweet song--not one normally heard in a screamo song, but a floating harmony made up mostly of violins. It's peaceful. It reminds me of Whose I am. Soon the music will overtake the screaming.
Regardless of where this has brought me, I'll still jump off the next bridge too, probably still screaming, but the music will be loud enough to hear over me. That's how He works.
"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret to being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all things through him who gives me strength." -Philippians 4:12-13
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