Monthly Archives: February 2013

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02/25/2013

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Getting Honest

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Fragile Lives

Last week, I got to meet a friend’s baby for the first time. As I stood there holding all six pounds and nine ounces of this newborn miracle, I couldn’t get over how tiny she was. They grow so fast that I forget how small they start out. How fragile. How dependent.

The truth is, this infant is in desperate need of her mother. But in the not-too-distant future, she’ll forget that. She’ll start sitting up on her own. Before you know it, she’ll start crawling and walking and speaking and doing more and more things all on her own.

And because she’s using the big girl potty, because she doesn’t need anyone to help her button her pants anymore, because she has finally learned to tie her own shoes, she’ll think she’s invincible. She’ll start rebelling against the rules her parents have set for her because she’ll start to imagine she could create a better life for herself. And she’ll forget that her parents do more for her than her little brain can comprehend.

And when I picture the child this infant will become, I see myself in a whole new light. Because I’ve just described my relationship with God in a nutshell.

I forget how fragile, how desperate, how small and dependent I truly am.

According to the world, I’m an adult. I’m legally responsible for myself. And sometimes that makes me forget that I’m not technically doing life on my own. Sometimes I forget I’m not the one calling all the shots and carrying the entirety of the burden.

Last week at Bible study, one of the girls I’m beginning to do life with pointed out how we’re hesitant to follow God’s call on our lives because we’re afraid to take that risk. Or what we think is a risk.

What we think is a risk.

I was so glad she amended that statement. Because it’s true that following God isn’t risky at all. After all, He’s the one who sees the whole path—the big picture. He knows where He’s leading us.

So why am I always convinced that my way is right? Why can I not see that my arguments with the almighty God are about as valid as a four-year-old trying to explain to her mother why it’s a good idea to have candy for dinner? Why can’t I understand that my search for comfort in the moment only leads to ultimate destruction? That God has much greater designs for my fragile life?

I want to be trusting again. As needy and dependent and perfectly at peace as my friend’s newborn daughter.

I need to be reminded of how helpless I truly am, and cradled close to God’s heart today.Fragile Creatures

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02/22/2013

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Sing-Along Scriptures

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A Different Kind of Gospel

A few months ago, I got to thinking about the way we present the Gospel and started wondering if we were going about it the wrong way. Like, maybe we shouldn’t be telling people to accept Jesus “or else they’re going to hell.” Because maybe hell isn’t the issue. Because when I think about the way we promise people the opportunity of eternal life in heaven, I can’t help but wonder… Is that our only reason for following Jesus?

Because if it is, I’m no better than the people who are blowing themselves up in the name of faith, hoping for a shot at paradise. In fact, I’m worse because I’m not really living what I believe. I’m not risking anything for the God I claim to love.

Needless to say I was pretty excited when I stumbled across a book where the author basically poses the same question and starts launching into the sermon Jesus really came to preach.

From that time on Jesus began to preach, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.” (Matthew 4:17)

If you flip through the rest of the book of Matthew and really pay attention, you’ll get the feeling that all Jesus ever talked about was the kingdom of heaven. And He told us how to grasp it. Right now. In this moment. Not just when we get to the other side of death.

Yet here we are—standing on the street corners with our big, flashy signs yelling, “Free tickets to heaven! Come on, folks, get your little bit of Jesus right here!”

And we wonder why we don’t see fruit in the lives of these new convert. Maybe it’s because all we ever told them was that Jesus wanted to spend eternity with them, but we neglected to mention that He wants to share life with them, too.

I like to think that I follow Jesus for more reasons than the promise of a cushy mansion after I die. I like to think that maybe I follow Him because the kingdom of heaven is near, and I want to experience it now. Today. In this moment.

And yes, the promise of eternal life is a beautiful thing, but sometimes eternity still feels like a long way off, and today… Today I need to walk hand in hand with Jesus, marveling at the wonders of this kingdom life and knowing that these simple moments of my existence are significant to someone other than me.

I think from now on I’ll be preaching a different kind of Gospel.

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02/15/2013

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Things That Inspire

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Strong Enough to Say I Need You

I overheard a conversation in a bookstore about how someone was “so sick of those stories about girls who are just waiting to be rescued.” (Side Note: Seriously, when was the last time you read one of those stories? I’m pretty sure they’ve died out over the last thirty years or so. But I digress…) So, the woman at the desk recommended a book with a strong, female character who is a real inspiration. And when she announced the title, I nearly gagged.

Why? Because I read the book, and the only thing the main character inspired in me was a few negative feelings. So why did I bother finishing the book? Now, that’s a fair question I’ve even asked myself a few times. I guess I was hoping this bitter, sadistic character would transform into the heroine the reviews promised me.

There was enough back story for me to understand her lone ranger mentality, so I was waiting for her to overcome it. And I waited and waited and waited for nearly 500 pages. What a letdown. It reminded me of the humorous quote from the movie Picture Perfect:  “Her character never grows, Alan. I need growth!”

I have a hard time understanding why anyone would sing the praises of a character who is broken and bitter and trusts no one but herself. That’s not strength; that’s arrogance.

Want to meet a strong character? Watch a wallflower become a queen in Rae Carson’s Girl of Fire and Thorns. Follow her through The Crown of Embers where our once-timid, uncertain heroine makes the strongest declaration of all. There comes a scene when she looks into the eyes of the man who has been her strength while she has yet to find her own and says, “What I did was weak. Cowardly. Unqueenly… and you were right. About everything. I do have power. Enough that I don’t need you. But I will miss you awfully.”

And. My. Heart. Melts.

Because strength is not believing you can take on the world by yourself; strength is realizing you are capable, but admitting your dependence on someone else.

I believe there’s a lot to be learned in the crafting of novels (because if I didn’t, the last year of my life would be a total waste). As I read and research and discover what creates a strong, female character—as I mold my Genevieve into someone whom I hope is both believable and inspiring—I’m learning to become that kind of character myself. I’m learning to say, “Hey, you know, I was wrong and, um, I need you.”

Yeah, I’m still working on the delivery. Because it’s amazing how such simple words can be your undoing.

But I want to be strong enough to say that I need you. Strong enough to admit that I was wrong. Strong enough to know what I am capable of on my own… and choose not to do it on my own after all.

I want to be strong enough to depend on someone other than myself. Strong enough to trust another human being with the fragile pieces of my heart.

I want to be strong enough to grow—because we all need growth—no matter how painful and difficult and terrifying that growth may be.

I want to be strong enough. Just strong enough…

And so I set out on this journey of becoming.

Strong Enough

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02/11/2013

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Things That Inspire

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When All Else Fails… Be Thankful

I’ve got no words, I’ve lost my “muchness,” and there isn’t much wonder in the journey anymore. I’m trying to recapture the amazement I once cradled in my hands, and I think the only way to do that is to dwell on things that never fail to amaze me. Today I determine to be awed and amazed and purposely thankful for…

Family that is never far away, though we live many miles apart.

People who have entered my life for a brief season, but left permanent imprints on my heart.

Bird songs and butterflies (and those other tiny miracles that inspire the largest of smiles).

Little children who shape my heart with their messy, world-changing hands.

Music created by a rippling creek.

Thunderstorms rolling in over the marsh.

The tender, fragile sound of an infant’s cry.

Cool grass under bare toes.

Cheesecake. (Need I say more?)

A world that is much smaller than it first appears.

“Bicycle flowers” and the sweet scent they bring.

Ocean waves lapping against the shore.

The soothing, healing qualities of human touch.

Stories that tell truths.

Things that rock and swing and spin.

A voice that sings and feet that dance (and musicals that set them in motion).

And for a God who lowered Himself into the darkness to bring us a hope that would carry us through each day.

Today, I am thankful.

Thankful

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02/08/2013

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Getting Honest

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Bleeding Hearts and Useless Words

There’s a word that keeps resurfacing in my prayer journal—an adjective I keep using to describe my heart.

Bleeding.

My heart is bleeding. Cracked. Broken. Rubbed raw and aching with the harsh realities of life.

Some of it is my fault—decisions I have made, bitterness I have harbored. But some of it… Some of it is completely out of my control. The only contribution I made to that pain was deciding to love too deeply, but I promised myself long ago that I’d never apologize for that.

So here I stand.

Bleeding.

Which is why I’ve been silent here of late. The words have slipped right through the cracks in my spirit. And I’m laughing to think that I had all the answers right up until it came time to use them, which makes me wonder if perhaps they weren’t the right answers after all.

Because when your heart rumbles and shudders with the force of an earthquake and your soul rips apart at the seams, you find that answers aren’t a strong enough foundation for the process of rebuilding your life.

So what is? What remains when everything else lies in ruins?

It’s simple, really. Simple and short and perhaps a bit cliche:

When answers fail—when words are rendered worthless—love remains.

…Which is a difficult concept for a writer to wrap her mind around. You see, words are pretty much my life. I live off them and in them and for them. I’ve read as many as fourteen novels in a single month and still didn’t get my fill of them. Words. Piles and piles of words.

I’ve never believed in letters that don’t wrap around from front to back. I’ve never learned to stay within the margins of my pages. And when I’m broken, I resort to poetry and prose.

But I realized just the other day that I often fill the silences with fluff as if I’m afraid of fresh, white pages. I realized just now that I craft entire paragraphs when only one sentence is needed. And maybe the message I’m trying to get across is found somewhere in that 500-word-essay, but there’s a chance it got lost amidst all the scribbles in the margins. And after all my assurances, condolences, and cliches, you still stand there. Bleeding.

Because I gave you pages of poetry when all you needed was a simple confession.

“I know that you’re broken. I’m broken, too. But I’m okay to be broken for you.”

Maybe all I needed to say was, “I love you.”
As cliche as that sounds, I love you.
Forever.
For always.
Yes, even in this.

Or maybe I don’t need to say anything at all.

Yes, I think for now I’ll just remain silent and bleed right along with you.

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