{thanks, Blogger, for losing my post on the one day I happen to update my blog in over a month, and for making BF go looking for it for me, the tech-genius he is. And by "thank you" I mean "Grrrr."}
Trying to find blog direction these days is difficult. With that being said, I've been meaning to use this post title for a very long time. It's been waiting patiently in the recesses of my mind, and today I'm finally employing it:
According to the world, hereafter personified as "World," I've done things wrong-- all wrong. World must look at me with a cocked eyebrow and say, "Ooooookayyyyy??"
Let's start with my choice of education and career:
World suggests you get into the very best institution you can for the purpose of doing as well as you can so you will make as much money as you can. Ivy League is preferred; state institutions are acceptable. Even some high-profile private Christian universities are sometimes nothing to sneeze at.... Hey World, how do you feel about a tuition-paid Bible Institute that's not accredited? That's what I thought. Even my high school guidance counselor advised against it. I went to a Christian high school.
With a high college GPA, World might believe that I should have pursued a career that would rake in the Benjamins, that would fill my sweaty little palms with cold, hard, cash. Legal, medical, business, design-- all are acceptable career paths. Let me ask you, World, do you think I should get a degree in elementary education and become a teacher at a tiny Christian school, making half of what a public school teacher makes? Yikes, World, you don't have to yell.
Or take my location. I grew up just outside a hub. Not just a U.S. hub, but a world hub-- Chicago. World would say that the networking, culture, and high life are all at my feet in that city. But what would you say, World, if I told you I wanted to move to a coastal town in central Florida? Listen, I know we differ in opinions, but you don't have to be rude about it.
Now let's get down to the nitty gritty, as my friend Nacho Libre likes to say.
While World nods its head in silent agreement with Sex in the City, I am living celibacy in the suburbs. World says to date as many men as possible to determine if one of them is "the One." Break a few hearts-- it's empowering! Get your heart broken once or twice-- it gives you wise life experience! Date for fun-- see what you can get out of it! Hey World, you need to know that I have turned down a couple people for dates. Not because the sight of them made me nauseated, or because they lived in their parents' basement as hermits, or because of body odor, but because I knew they weren't marriage material. That's right, I said marriage. I was friends with guys instead, and knew before I even started dating that I could potentially marry that man. There is wisdom in not getting my heart broken, and not breaking the hearts of others, and dating is not about what I can get out of it, but what I can do to love him and honor Him.
World, I know you think I should sleep with my boyfriend because it's just "the thing to do," and "everyone does it," and "it's fun," and "what if he's bad in bed?" Guess what, World-- I'm waiting until I'm married to do that. Pick your jaw up off the floor-- that's unbecoming. While you revel in titilating stories of conquest and walks of shame, I have chosen abstinence. Not because I delight in depriving myself or making life difficult, though difficult it may be, but because God told me that's how it should be, and because of His faithfulness, I trust and obey that. Plus, World, bonus: I'm disease and pregnancy free, so take that with your outbreak of herpes!
And World, when the time comes for me to get married and start a family, you would say that I need to find a fulfilling career away from my family, or I'll "lose myself." Well let me tell you, being a wife and mother will be my dream job. And while I won't be a prisoner in my home, I will revel in my marriage and motherhood because that is fulfilling.
Please don't mistake this post as a self-righteous soap box. It's just a reminder that as a believer, I need to not be conformed to the world but transformed, and that World's view of life is not God's view of life and therefore not my view of life.
So while World might sit around a diner table with its girlfriends and talk about things that might make my grandmother's eyes cross, I think I'll opt for sitting around a Panera table with my girlfriends and talking about things that makes my God smile.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
May 13, 2011
November 25, 2010
Snapshots of Thankfulness...
I love Thanksgiving. That's no secret. But I hate change (also no secret). So how does this Thanksgiving-loving-change-hating girl fare when her favorite holiday must be spent in an entirely different place? I think I'm faring just fine, thanks. :) This is the first year I haven't spent Thanksgiving with my family in Chicago. My mom makes the best Thanksgiving dinner I've ever tasted, and we have such rich traditions that ooze comfort and warm fuzzies. Yet this year, thanks to the greed of commercial airlines, I stay in Florida, with my other "family." I miss my family and the warm fuzzies, but I'm not complaining. In fact, I thought I'd be a lot more homesick, but I think the combination of a sunny, 84 degree day and the palm trees outside my window have made it just different enough from my traditional Thanksgiving that I'm somehow comfortable making new memories.
And so I got up early, baked an apple pie while watching Miracle on 34th Street (everyone knows that's the movie that kicks off the Christmas season), and I am now watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade as I type. Today I will have Thanksgiving dinner with BF's family (gulp), and later scour the ads with my "family" as we graze on leftovers.
And this departure from tradition is just fine with me, mostly because God has helped me have an attitude that's in keeping with the day: thankful. I have a lot to be thankful for. Here are a few snapshots of what I'm thankful for this year:
A God who is sovereign: I didn't want to spend my week off on the couch in respiratory distress. But somehow God planned it that way, perhaps so I could remember my dependence upon him, or maybe so those in my life could remind me why I'm thankful for them. I don't know why, but it reminded me of God's sovereign hand in every part of my life. I'm thankful that he is in control of everything, and therefore I don't need to worry about anything.
BF: Picture this-- I had not slept the night before. I had been coughing so much and so violently that I puked. I could only croak, and my hair was in the fuzziest, nastiest bun. My face was flushed and I was in a post-fever sweat. There's a knock at the door, and standing there is BF, holding a big bouquet of bright flowers and two bags of get-well-food. And after seeing me like that, he still wants me to come to Thanksgiving dinner today. Enough said, right?
Friends: Picture this-- I was walking up the stairs to my apartment when I got a giddy, loopy phone call from my sisters. Was I home, they wanted to know, and could they come over? Moments later they're standing at my door, with goofy grins. They pop inside and simultaneously shout, "We're pregnant!" I simply stared at them in disbelief-- I didn't believe they were, and I also couldn't believe they'd think I'd believe them. They laughed, and no they're NOT pregnant. Then they produced a "friendship ring." The three of us now have matching metal flower rings that must be worn AT ALL TIMES (oops, guess I'm a bad friend). We then reclined in the living room and cackled together as all sisters should.
Those are just three brief snapshots of what I'm thankful for, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. My family, my job, and the youth ministry are also things for which I'm very thankful.
So however you're spending Thanksgiving this year-- whether you're with family or friends or are alone; whether you're enjoying old traditions or making new ones; whether you're healthy or ill, rich or poor, tired or rested; I pray you will find your own snapshots of what you're thankful for this year.
Happy Thanksgiving. :)
And so I got up early, baked an apple pie while watching Miracle on 34th Street (everyone knows that's the movie that kicks off the Christmas season), and I am now watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade as I type. Today I will have Thanksgiving dinner with BF's family (gulp), and later scour the ads with my "family" as we graze on leftovers.
And this departure from tradition is just fine with me, mostly because God has helped me have an attitude that's in keeping with the day: thankful. I have a lot to be thankful for. Here are a few snapshots of what I'm thankful for this year:
A God who is sovereign: I didn't want to spend my week off on the couch in respiratory distress. But somehow God planned it that way, perhaps so I could remember my dependence upon him, or maybe so those in my life could remind me why I'm thankful for them. I don't know why, but it reminded me of God's sovereign hand in every part of my life. I'm thankful that he is in control of everything, and therefore I don't need to worry about anything.
BF: Picture this-- I had not slept the night before. I had been coughing so much and so violently that I puked. I could only croak, and my hair was in the fuzziest, nastiest bun. My face was flushed and I was in a post-fever sweat. There's a knock at the door, and standing there is BF, holding a big bouquet of bright flowers and two bags of get-well-food. And after seeing me like that, he still wants me to come to Thanksgiving dinner today. Enough said, right?
Friends: Picture this-- I was walking up the stairs to my apartment when I got a giddy, loopy phone call from my sisters. Was I home, they wanted to know, and could they come over? Moments later they're standing at my door, with goofy grins. They pop inside and simultaneously shout, "We're pregnant!" I simply stared at them in disbelief-- I didn't believe they were, and I also couldn't believe they'd think I'd believe them. They laughed, and no they're NOT pregnant. Then they produced a "friendship ring." The three of us now have matching metal flower rings that must be worn AT ALL TIMES (oops, guess I'm a bad friend). We then reclined in the living room and cackled together as all sisters should.
Those are just three brief snapshots of what I'm thankful for, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. My family, my job, and the youth ministry are also things for which I'm very thankful.
So however you're spending Thanksgiving this year-- whether you're with family or friends or are alone; whether you're enjoying old traditions or making new ones; whether you're healthy or ill, rich or poor, tired or rested; I pray you will find your own snapshots of what you're thankful for this year.
Happy Thanksgiving. :)
November 12, 2010
A Very Big "First"...
I have a confession to make. Over the last few weeks, I have experienced many "firsts." But I haven't blogged about any of them, as much as I wanted to, because nothing was official. But now it is. So here's my list of firsts:
First second date
First time I didn't run from a guy who showed interest
First DTR that ended with a smile
First boyfriend
What?! you shout, What is this about a boyfriend?! Would you like to know how this happened? Good, I'll tell you, but only the condensed version. I did not meet him online. I did not meet him at the grocery store. I did not meet him through a mutual friend. It turns out, he was under my nose the whole time. Or, as Bestie Jr. put it (here edited for content... hahaha), "He was under your nose like the stache under his nose." Bestie's husband likes to rub in the fact that long ago, he told me I would find someone right under my nose, but I told him he was wrong. And I believed it. Turns out, I was wrong (Get your fill of those words now, Bestie's husband, because I won't say them very often-- not to you anyway).
It turns out that I was friends with a great guy, and that over the past few years I've had the opportunity to serve with him in ministry and get to know his character and laugh at his insanity. Apparently, we were on each other's radar for basically as long as we've known each other. Which to me, is really funny. Who knew? Certainly not me.
I don't really know how it happened, it just did. At some point we started facebook bantering, which some people claim was flirting and I claim it was NOT. At least not at first, anyway. Regardless, it was fun. And then I think I texted him (I know, can you believe it?)-- but only to make fun of his mustache. Maybe it was the stache that brought us together because then we started texting often, then every night, then all day every day. And then he asked me out and we began dating on the sly, until we made it "official" on Sunday night. It's real now, but only because facebook says it is... just kidding.
Let me just say that through this whole process, I have wanted to blog so badly. I have had to learn so many lessons I never expected to learn. I thought I had a handle on this whole "trusting God" thing. Turns out I was so wrong. But I'll get into that another time. I'll get into my struggle with fear and trust and all of those goodies that I've never experienced in this way before.
So now begins an adventure. I have never done this before, ever. I will make a lot of mistakes. I have no idea what to expect. I know I will fight my own fears again and again. But I'm excited. I'm still a little shocked that this is happening-- and that the Lord has answered prayers I've had for a long time. I always wanted a relationship that grew from friendship. Check. I always wanted a relationship with someone with whom I served in ministry. Check. I always wanted a relationship with someone who loved the Lord more than anything else. Check. I always wanted a relationship with someone who could make me laugh a lot. Check. Actually, I could check off a lot of things on my checklist.
What encourages me more than anything is the fact that I know I didn't seek this out. The Lord brought us together somehow, and whatever he has for us will be good for us and glorifying for Him. I'll keep you posted... because even if I'm no longer single, I still have single girl issues that will be working themselves out in this relationship. Fortunately, BF (henceforth he will be called) is patient with me. Which is another thing on my checklist. Check.
First second date
First time I didn't run from a guy who showed interest
First DTR that ended with a smile
First boyfriend
What?! you shout, What is this about a boyfriend?! Would you like to know how this happened? Good, I'll tell you, but only the condensed version. I did not meet him online. I did not meet him at the grocery store. I did not meet him through a mutual friend. It turns out, he was under my nose the whole time. Or, as Bestie Jr. put it (here edited for content... hahaha), "He was under your nose like the stache under his nose." Bestie's husband likes to rub in the fact that long ago, he told me I would find someone right under my nose, but I told him he was wrong. And I believed it. Turns out, I was wrong (Get your fill of those words now, Bestie's husband, because I won't say them very often-- not to you anyway).
It turns out that I was friends with a great guy, and that over the past few years I've had the opportunity to serve with him in ministry and get to know his character and laugh at his insanity. Apparently, we were on each other's radar for basically as long as we've known each other. Which to me, is really funny. Who knew? Certainly not me.
I don't really know how it happened, it just did. At some point we started facebook bantering, which some people claim was flirting and I claim it was NOT. At least not at first, anyway. Regardless, it was fun. And then I think I texted him (I know, can you believe it?)-- but only to make fun of his mustache. Maybe it was the stache that brought us together because then we started texting often, then every night, then all day every day. And then he asked me out and we began dating on the sly, until we made it "official" on Sunday night. It's real now, but only because facebook says it is... just kidding.
Let me just say that through this whole process, I have wanted to blog so badly. I have had to learn so many lessons I never expected to learn. I thought I had a handle on this whole "trusting God" thing. Turns out I was so wrong. But I'll get into that another time. I'll get into my struggle with fear and trust and all of those goodies that I've never experienced in this way before.
So now begins an adventure. I have never done this before, ever. I will make a lot of mistakes. I have no idea what to expect. I know I will fight my own fears again and again. But I'm excited. I'm still a little shocked that this is happening-- and that the Lord has answered prayers I've had for a long time. I always wanted a relationship that grew from friendship. Check. I always wanted a relationship with someone with whom I served in ministry. Check. I always wanted a relationship with someone who loved the Lord more than anything else. Check. I always wanted a relationship with someone who could make me laugh a lot. Check. Actually, I could check off a lot of things on my checklist.
What encourages me more than anything is the fact that I know I didn't seek this out. The Lord brought us together somehow, and whatever he has for us will be good for us and glorifying for Him. I'll keep you posted... because even if I'm no longer single, I still have single girl issues that will be working themselves out in this relationship. Fortunately, BF (henceforth he will be called) is patient with me. Which is another thing on my checklist. Check.
October 3, 2010
My Perfect Life...
Sometimes, I read blogs. Shocker, I know. And sometimes, when I read blogs, I see the pretty pictures and I read the pretty words, and I somehow get this impression that the blogger's life is perfect. This happened the other day. I was reading a delightful blog, and this uninvited, bitter thought invaded my otherwise cheerful mind:
Their life is perfect. They have everything they've ever wanted, they have someone to share their life with, and their dreams are coming true.
And for a moment my lip curled in disgust. Until just a moment later, when I felt extreme disgust at my own bitter thoughts. After repenting, my very next thought was this:
Amanda, your life is perfect, not because you have everything you've ever wanted, someone to share your life with, or because your dreams are coming true, but because you are exactly where God wants you right now, doing exactly what he wants you to do. And your life is exactly as it should be.
It was a comfort. I mean, I know it's not perfect. I sin (obviously, as illustrated above), and the people around me sin, which results in an imperfect life. But God's plan and God's will is perfect, and because of that, my life is "perfect."
Besides... I know that behind the pretty pictures and the pretty words are other sinful people like me, who struggle through while finding some kind of solace in blogging, just like me. And as believers, their lives are "perfect," just like mine. Funny, I never thought I'd think that singleness, a challenging job, and daily hurdles would equal a perfect life... but it's amazing what perspective can accomplish. :)
Their life is perfect. They have everything they've ever wanted, they have someone to share their life with, and their dreams are coming true.
And for a moment my lip curled in disgust. Until just a moment later, when I felt extreme disgust at my own bitter thoughts. After repenting, my very next thought was this:
Amanda, your life is perfect, not because you have everything you've ever wanted, someone to share your life with, or because your dreams are coming true, but because you are exactly where God wants you right now, doing exactly what he wants you to do. And your life is exactly as it should be.
It was a comfort. I mean, I know it's not perfect. I sin (obviously, as illustrated above), and the people around me sin, which results in an imperfect life. But God's plan and God's will is perfect, and because of that, my life is "perfect."
Besides... I know that behind the pretty pictures and the pretty words are other sinful people like me, who struggle through while finding some kind of solace in blogging, just like me. And as believers, their lives are "perfect," just like mine. Funny, I never thought I'd think that singleness, a challenging job, and daily hurdles would equal a perfect life... but it's amazing what perspective can accomplish. :)
September 3, 2010
Singles' Regret...
I have two questions for you:
1. Is it only natural for a woman who has been single for a long time to look back at past "options" and wonder if she's made the right choices?
2. Have you ever had a really bad idea but went through with it because your curiosity got the best of you?
These questions intersected last night.
I have no idea why, but I decided to sift through my emails and find the correspondences between me and "Roberto" (this is the man I met from "creepychristianguys.com" two years ago during the month-long subscription a friend signed me up for). I don't know what possessed me, but my curiosity wouldn't be sated until I re-read those emails. As I read, I started to think, this guy wasn't so bad. He was smart, funny, and passionate about the Lord. He was a very attractive man of Cuban descent with striking eyes and a nice smile. And wow... he was really into me. I started to doubt myself. Why did I run from this one? What if I'd made a mistake?
Before I remembered that all-important fact that I really can't make a mistake because God is in control and won't let me miss the right man, I read the rest of the emails. And then I remembered why I ran from that one. He was far too intense, far too fast. I was reluctant to meet him, but after I finally agreed, he insisted that we meet in this old-fashioned, legalistic manner that I was completely uncomfortable with. When I explained that all I was thinking about was maybe coffee, he replied,
"Trust me, part of me wants to say, yeah sure. I'll meet you wherever...whatever it takes, I just wanna meet you. But you are a girl, a beautiful one might I add, what if....what if this turns into a romance and you end up (getting tricked into, j/k) becoming my wife. And then...some time later we have four kids. Just pretend with me here, I know this is far fetched. Then these kids grow up and want to have boyfriends and girlfriends, and all this kind of crazy stuff. I want to set a precedent, now, so that when that time comes, and they ask you and me how this came about, I can say. Well kids, it turns out that mommy and I met at a Christian dating site because finding a good solid Christian guy or girl was very difficult during those times. ...When the time came when mommy and I wanted to meet, mommy wanted to bring daddy by the house to show her parents, especially grandpa--since guys can be very deceiving some times. Actually, this was a bit different since mommy had already exchanged about 17 emails with daddy by this time, so she was quite confident that he was a true Christian and wouldn't harm her or disrespect her. But it turns out that she could not do that since grandpa lived a thousand miles away. So she decided to have me come by the house of an older couple who cared about mommy and could have true discernment about what kind of man I was. (change in narrator) So daddy came by and met with me and this couple, which approved of him, and then I felt even more confident that daddy would show me the respect and honor that was due to me. We went for a drive around town and and walked on the beach, and daddy was very respectful. (change in narrator) Thats right, daddy got to see mommy's beautiful red hair against a background of waves and a setting sun, and I took her home safely."
I cringed when I re-read this. WAY too intense, way too fast. And more than a little creepy, right (we had sent a lot of emails, but they were very platonic on my end, as usual. But even for all our emails, this was creepy.)? I remember being weirded out by this, and having many sessions with Bestie and her then BF. Why I agreed to meet him, I'll never know. But we met, and he was nice, but super intense. Only, you would think that with that much intensity, there would also be chemistry. But there was really no chemistry. I can't explain chemistry-- I've asked many people and tried to define it but it escapes me. It's just that nebulous, inexplicable mutual attraction that is either there... or not. And it wasn't, even when he kept inching his arm closer and closer until we touched. Weird.
I remembered my method of running away from this friendship. He called me, and I didn't pick up. He called again, days later, and I didn't pick up. I purposely dodged his calls until he stopped calling. At the time, I thought that would be a better way to let him down. What I realize now is that I took the cowardly way out to avoid feeling awkward. Even though he was too intense and made me feel uncomfortable, he was a good guy and deserved better. And now I find myself filled with regret, not because I wish I'd been in a relationship with him, but because I wish I'd been less rude.
So... I probably shouldn't have let myself read those old emails. Even though they satisfied my curiosity about whether or not I should have run from him, they filled me with regret. I'm sure he doesn't even think of me anymore, but he was my one-and-only-date, so I think of him now and then. I guess I've learned several things since then:
1. I know my tendency is to run from men... but I think by now I can trust my instincts and discernment.
2. If I expect honesty and respect, I should give honesty and respect, even when rejecting.
3. I can't mess up God's plan for my life. I haven't missed him and I won't miss him.
4. Meeting someone from online is not something I am comfortable with... and probably won't ever be comfortable with.
5. When I am in a relationship someday, I will be very slow to proceed. And if he's not cool with that, he's not the one for me.
Word of advice: don't mix nostalgia, curiosity, and old emails. It's a recipe for regret. Am I alone in this? Does anyone else have "singles' regret" about how you've ended friendships/relationships?
Sorry, "Roberto;" my bad.
1. Is it only natural for a woman who has been single for a long time to look back at past "options" and wonder if she's made the right choices?
2. Have you ever had a really bad idea but went through with it because your curiosity got the best of you?
These questions intersected last night.
I have no idea why, but I decided to sift through my emails and find the correspondences between me and "Roberto" (this is the man I met from "creepychristianguys.com" two years ago during the month-long subscription a friend signed me up for). I don't know what possessed me, but my curiosity wouldn't be sated until I re-read those emails. As I read, I started to think, this guy wasn't so bad. He was smart, funny, and passionate about the Lord. He was a very attractive man of Cuban descent with striking eyes and a nice smile. And wow... he was really into me. I started to doubt myself. Why did I run from this one? What if I'd made a mistake?
Before I remembered that all-important fact that I really can't make a mistake because God is in control and won't let me miss the right man, I read the rest of the emails. And then I remembered why I ran from that one. He was far too intense, far too fast. I was reluctant to meet him, but after I finally agreed, he insisted that we meet in this old-fashioned, legalistic manner that I was completely uncomfortable with. When I explained that all I was thinking about was maybe coffee, he replied,
"Trust me, part of me wants to say, yeah sure. I'll meet you wherever...whatever it takes, I just wanna meet you. But you are a girl, a beautiful one might I add, what if....what if this turns into a romance and you end up (getting tricked into, j/k) becoming my wife. And then...some time later we have four kids. Just pretend with me here, I know this is far fetched. Then these kids grow up and want to have boyfriends and girlfriends, and all this kind of crazy stuff. I want to set a precedent, now, so that when that time comes, and they ask you and me how this came about, I can say. Well kids, it turns out that mommy and I met at a Christian dating site because finding a good solid Christian guy or girl was very difficult during those times. ...When the time came when mommy and I wanted to meet, mommy wanted to bring daddy by the house to show her parents, especially grandpa--since guys can be very deceiving some times. Actually, this was a bit different since mommy had already exchanged about 17 emails with daddy by this time, so she was quite confident that he was a true Christian and wouldn't harm her or disrespect her. But it turns out that she could not do that since grandpa lived a thousand miles away. So she decided to have me come by the house of an older couple who cared about mommy and could have true discernment about what kind of man I was. (change in narrator) So daddy came by and met with me and this couple, which approved of him, and then I felt even more confident that daddy would show me the respect and honor that was due to me. We went for a drive around town and and walked on the beach, and daddy was very respectful. (change in narrator) Thats right, daddy got to see mommy's beautiful red hair against a background of waves and a setting sun, and I took her home safely."
I cringed when I re-read this. WAY too intense, way too fast. And more than a little creepy, right (we had sent a lot of emails, but they were very platonic on my end, as usual. But even for all our emails, this was creepy.)? I remember being weirded out by this, and having many sessions with Bestie and her then BF. Why I agreed to meet him, I'll never know. But we met, and he was nice, but super intense. Only, you would think that with that much intensity, there would also be chemistry. But there was really no chemistry. I can't explain chemistry-- I've asked many people and tried to define it but it escapes me. It's just that nebulous, inexplicable mutual attraction that is either there... or not. And it wasn't, even when he kept inching his arm closer and closer until we touched. Weird.
I remembered my method of running away from this friendship. He called me, and I didn't pick up. He called again, days later, and I didn't pick up. I purposely dodged his calls until he stopped calling. At the time, I thought that would be a better way to let him down. What I realize now is that I took the cowardly way out to avoid feeling awkward. Even though he was too intense and made me feel uncomfortable, he was a good guy and deserved better. And now I find myself filled with regret, not because I wish I'd been in a relationship with him, but because I wish I'd been less rude.
So... I probably shouldn't have let myself read those old emails. Even though they satisfied my curiosity about whether or not I should have run from him, they filled me with regret. I'm sure he doesn't even think of me anymore, but he was my one-and-only-date, so I think of him now and then. I guess I've learned several things since then:
1. I know my tendency is to run from men... but I think by now I can trust my instincts and discernment.
2. If I expect honesty and respect, I should give honesty and respect, even when rejecting.
3. I can't mess up God's plan for my life. I haven't missed him and I won't miss him.
4. Meeting someone from online is not something I am comfortable with... and probably won't ever be comfortable with.
5. When I am in a relationship someday, I will be very slow to proceed. And if he's not cool with that, he's not the one for me.
Word of advice: don't mix nostalgia, curiosity, and old emails. It's a recipe for regret. Am I alone in this? Does anyone else have "singles' regret" about how you've ended friendships/relationships?
Sorry, "Roberto;" my bad.
August 18, 2010
Redeemed, How I Love to Proclaim It...
Today was one small fail for Amanda, and one giant win for the Lord.
I don't think I've mentioned yet that I have always struggled with my temper. It would be great if I could blame it on my red hair and Irish heritage, but really it's just a sin problem I've had to work on my whole life. When I was growing up, my temper would flare and I would lash out verbally to any and all nearby, cutting them to pieces with my rhetoric. Only in the last few years has the Holy Spirit really started to make a change in me. I pray almost daily that I am "quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry."
But my temper still flares. It is hard to explain what it feels like to someone who doesn't struggle with anger. It's like there's this burning ball of molten rage in the pit of your stomach, and it won't go away. You don't even want it to go away. You want to feed it, feed the rage until you can let loose and release the anger on someone, whether they "deserve it" or not. It is blinding. I can think of nothing else and I cannot simply sweep it under the rug or set it aside. It is consuming, like fire. Today, my temper flared.
I was already super irritated at my claims adjuster who was supposed to have contacted me about the accident I was in last Monday. An elderly foreign woman did not see me slowly backing out of my parking space outside my apartment and rammed into my bumper. She was clearly in the wrong, but I found out today that my slacker adjuster believes I was in the wrong. If he had done his job and gotten my story and my pictures of the damage, he could have seen for himself that I was right. So now I'll be paying a deductible and bumming rides off my friends, on top of having to pay for the already broken AC. I was furious at the injustice. Ten years of no accidents, not even a parking ticket, and one oblivious woman and an inept claims adjuster changes all of that. I could not see past my rage. I typed an angry email to my mom, I had an angry conversation with Bestie, all "venting" about the injustice. Really I was just throwing temper tantrums.
I sat at my desk and felt like crying. Yes, because I was angry, but more because I knew I was failing at this trial God had thrown my way. I didn't want to let go of my anger; I didn't even want to pray. But it was one of those moments where I knew what was right. So I prayed that God would take away my anger and help me to handle this situation the way I should, and that I would "consider it all joy." Then I made myself busy not thinking about it.
Hours later, I sat back down at my desk and felt like crying once more. But this time it was because I just realized that God had changed my attitude. Nothing in me wanted to let go of my anger. But as I sat there, thinking about the "injustice," the anger was gone. Simply gone! I still wasn't happy about it, but that burning ball of molten rage was gone, and a peace about "all things work[ing] together for good" prevailed. I was filled with thankfulness that God would care enough to change my attitude for me, since I obviously did not possess the power to do so myself. He is so good.
And you know what's funny? Not like funny haha, but funny weird? I was praying in the shower this morning (where most of my best prayers, ideas, and singing voices occur) and prayed for humility. Even as I prayed it, I hesitated, knowing that God would take me up on that and throw something my way to truly teach me humility, as I had asked. I cringed inwardly, hoping I was wrong. But I wasn't. If I have to bear the guilt for this accident, I will. I'll know the truth, but I'll try to swallow my pride and simply deal.
So, I failed. But God won. Pretty typical, if you ask me. :)
I don't think I've mentioned yet that I have always struggled with my temper. It would be great if I could blame it on my red hair and Irish heritage, but really it's just a sin problem I've had to work on my whole life. When I was growing up, my temper would flare and I would lash out verbally to any and all nearby, cutting them to pieces with my rhetoric. Only in the last few years has the Holy Spirit really started to make a change in me. I pray almost daily that I am "quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry."
But my temper still flares. It is hard to explain what it feels like to someone who doesn't struggle with anger. It's like there's this burning ball of molten rage in the pit of your stomach, and it won't go away. You don't even want it to go away. You want to feed it, feed the rage until you can let loose and release the anger on someone, whether they "deserve it" or not. It is blinding. I can think of nothing else and I cannot simply sweep it under the rug or set it aside. It is consuming, like fire. Today, my temper flared.
I was already super irritated at my claims adjuster who was supposed to have contacted me about the accident I was in last Monday. An elderly foreign woman did not see me slowly backing out of my parking space outside my apartment and rammed into my bumper. She was clearly in the wrong, but I found out today that my slacker adjuster believes I was in the wrong. If he had done his job and gotten my story and my pictures of the damage, he could have seen for himself that I was right. So now I'll be paying a deductible and bumming rides off my friends, on top of having to pay for the already broken AC. I was furious at the injustice. Ten years of no accidents, not even a parking ticket, and one oblivious woman and an inept claims adjuster changes all of that. I could not see past my rage. I typed an angry email to my mom, I had an angry conversation with Bestie, all "venting" about the injustice. Really I was just throwing temper tantrums.
I sat at my desk and felt like crying. Yes, because I was angry, but more because I knew I was failing at this trial God had thrown my way. I didn't want to let go of my anger; I didn't even want to pray. But it was one of those moments where I knew what was right. So I prayed that God would take away my anger and help me to handle this situation the way I should, and that I would "consider it all joy." Then I made myself busy not thinking about it.
Hours later, I sat back down at my desk and felt like crying once more. But this time it was because I just realized that God had changed my attitude. Nothing in me wanted to let go of my anger. But as I sat there, thinking about the "injustice," the anger was gone. Simply gone! I still wasn't happy about it, but that burning ball of molten rage was gone, and a peace about "all things work[ing] together for good" prevailed. I was filled with thankfulness that God would care enough to change my attitude for me, since I obviously did not possess the power to do so myself. He is so good.
And you know what's funny? Not like funny haha, but funny weird? I was praying in the shower this morning (where most of my best prayers, ideas, and singing voices occur) and prayed for humility. Even as I prayed it, I hesitated, knowing that God would take me up on that and throw something my way to truly teach me humility, as I had asked. I cringed inwardly, hoping I was wrong. But I wasn't. If I have to bear the guilt for this accident, I will. I'll know the truth, but I'll try to swallow my pride and simply deal.
So, I failed. But God won. Pretty typical, if you ask me. :)
July 30, 2010
It's Starting to Come into Focus...
I'm starting to get overwhelmed. It's easy to understand-- in a matter of a couple weeks, school will be starting again. That means new students, new procedures, new curriculum, new problems... the pretzel M & Ms in my bowl are dwindling even now as I think about it.
What if the students are terrible? *munch munch munch*
Will I have enough time to get everything ready? *munch munch munch*
Am I prepared to teach this material, and teach it well? *munch munch munch munch munch*
I'm excited for a fresh new year, new classes, new students, new procedures, new curriculum-- it's a chance to start over. But the anxiety creeps in unwanted anyway. And then, so aptly, as I read the Word this morning, this is what God gave me:
"We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ. To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me." -- Colossians 1:28-29
How simple.
1. First of all, it reminds me of my true purpose as a teacher. Yes, I need to teach my students English. But more importantly, I am there to 'proclaim him,' and 'admonish and teach' my students with wisdom. That narrows it down a bit and helps me focus on what truly matters, more than a worksheet or a quiz.
2. Secondly, it reminds me WHY I do that: to 'present everyone perfect in Christ.' Not because of the good things they do, but because they are believers, and belong to Christ. That's why I do it-- to make disciples of Christ. Again, the focus is narrow and clear.
3. Third, it encourages me to work hard and not give up or get lazy-- to 'struggle' and 'labor.' It's also a reminder that it is not going to be easy, but that's OK because...
4. Finally, it reminds me where my strength comes from: the Lord. I will be struggling with 'his energy,' and not just energy from the Lord, but energy that is 'powerfully' working in me. That's beyond encouraging. As I start this year and follow through with this year, I will labor hard with the energy of Christ working powerfully within me. Thank God, because he knows I simply don't have what it takes on my own.
If I can only remember these truths and keep this focus, I anticipate my best year yet. :) I hope this encourages all of you other "fellow laborers" out there. Just keep the main thing the main thing.
What if the students are terrible? *munch munch munch*
Will I have enough time to get everything ready? *munch munch munch*
Am I prepared to teach this material, and teach it well? *munch munch munch munch munch*
I'm excited for a fresh new year, new classes, new students, new procedures, new curriculum-- it's a chance to start over. But the anxiety creeps in unwanted anyway. And then, so aptly, as I read the Word this morning, this is what God gave me:
"We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ. To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me." -- Colossians 1:28-29
How simple.
1. First of all, it reminds me of my true purpose as a teacher. Yes, I need to teach my students English. But more importantly, I am there to 'proclaim him,' and 'admonish and teach' my students with wisdom. That narrows it down a bit and helps me focus on what truly matters, more than a worksheet or a quiz.
2. Secondly, it reminds me WHY I do that: to 'present everyone perfect in Christ.' Not because of the good things they do, but because they are believers, and belong to Christ. That's why I do it-- to make disciples of Christ. Again, the focus is narrow and clear.
3. Third, it encourages me to work hard and not give up or get lazy-- to 'struggle' and 'labor.' It's also a reminder that it is not going to be easy, but that's OK because...
4. Finally, it reminds me where my strength comes from: the Lord. I will be struggling with 'his energy,' and not just energy from the Lord, but energy that is 'powerfully' working in me. That's beyond encouraging. As I start this year and follow through with this year, I will labor hard with the energy of Christ working powerfully within me. Thank God, because he knows I simply don't have what it takes on my own.
If I can only remember these truths and keep this focus, I anticipate my best year yet. :) I hope this encourages all of you other "fellow laborers" out there. Just keep the main thing the main thing.
July 23, 2010
The Ugly Duckling...
I have discovered something about myself. Well, in truth, I have known this about myself for many years, but I've only just analyzed it. I am very uncomfortable with compliments about my appearance. If you were to compliment me on my appearance, you would find that I would respond in one of the following ways:
1. "Thanks." *blush and laugh nervously*
2. "Pssshhhhh." *make a face and wave hands as if to wave away the compliment*
3. "Thanks; I know, I'm awesome." *make cheesy face and ham it up as if actually conceited, then laugh*
Why do I have such trouble accepting compliments? Let me be perfectly honest and open-- I'm not fishing for compliments here, so don't post any-- this is just my analysis of yet another neuroses I've discovered. Ha. See, some girls are born pretty. They grow up pretty, and they stay pretty. Some girls are blessed that way, but I wasn't. However, my cousin was. She was always an adorable blond, and I'll never forget my aunt telling her she'd grow up to be "a heartbreaker." I didn't realize what a heartbreaker was, but I remember wishing someone would tell me that I'd grow up to be a heartbreaker. Some girls grow up hearing they're beautiful and knowing they're beautiful, and that's what they develop: their beauty. It's what they're praised for, so they develop it, just as an athlete who is praised for her ability develops that ability-- you naturally develop what you're good at.
I was a perpetually chubby child with curly red hair and a face that reddened all too easily. I didn't have beautiful, dark eyelashes framing my ambiguously colored eyes. I had pale lashes that made me look like an albino. I didn't have smooth, tanned skin. I had freckles. I wore glasses at an early age. I had a gap between my teeth. I had a nose too big for my face. I had a too-pointy chin. Don't get me wrong-- I never thought I was hideous. I figured I was normal-looking, but not pretty. Girls who are not pretty realize they must develop other things if they want to be accepted. So I developed my intelligence and my humor.
I became the smart, funny chubby girl with curly red hair and a red, freckled face with glasses. I didn't have to be a genius though to know I wasn't one of the pretty girls, to know I wasn't one of the heartbreakers. The pretty girls always had boys around them. The pretty girls had nice clothes and wore makeup and did their hair. The pretty girls were the most popular girls in school. I had friends not because I was pretty, but because I was friendly. There were very few boys around me, and I never really developed my looks because I knew there wasn't much to work with. It was like trying to water a weed in hopes that it would flower into a rose. I can't say I really minded though. I was content. I wouldn't have minded being pretty of course, but I knew this was the way God made me. Besides, if we were all beautiful, life would be boring. I was just mixing it up a bit. In fact, the pretty girls should have thanked me! I made them look more beautiful.
I don't remember when things changed, but at some point in my recent history, maybe when my face grew into my nose and chin, I lost most of my chubbiness, and I figured out how to tame my curly red hair and love my freckles, I started getting compliments. And I didn't have any clue how to handle them. My first reaction was to disagree with them. But I found that made people uncomfortable and made it seem like I was fishing for more compliments, which was exactly what I didn't want. Then my reaction was to choose one of the three options I listed above, but inwardly not believe them. How could I believe them? I'd never been pretty. I'm still the chubby redhead with curly hair and a big nose and freckles. Maybe they're just trying to make me feel better about the way I look. Maybe they're just saying that.
And that's where you find me today. The other day, a friend complimented me. And suddenly I analyzed my instinct to not believe her. She wouldn't lie to me, so why did I find it so hard to believe her? I wondered if anyone else like me had similar issues. Did other "ugly ducklings" in youth always feel like an ugly duckling? I am a confident woman when it comes to my intellect and my wit because I was forced to develop those things in my youth. But I may always feel insecure about my looks. I have determined to try to graciously accept compliments without awkwardness or self depreciation, but I may never really believe them. In my mirror, I may always see myself at twelve. Did the real Ugly Duckling ever stop seeing himself as such and really see himself as a swan?
I'll tell you why I think my neurosis might not be such a bad thing, even if it is weird. It's because "charm is deceitful and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised." If I can fear the Lord, that's what will last, and that's what matters. Who cares if I've grown into my big nose and pointed chin? Who cares if I've shed a few pounds. Who cares if the gap in my teeth has closed? Someday the compliments will stop again, because wrinkles will overtake my face. My chin will disappear into my neck. Age spots will replace freckles. I'll gain the shapeless form of the aged. My hair will turn white and wiry, if it doesn't fall out. The compliments will stop, and I'll be the ugly duckling I've always thought of myself. But by God's grace, I'll be a woman who fears the Lord, and that is truly beautiful.
1. "Thanks." *blush and laugh nervously*
2. "Pssshhhhh." *make a face and wave hands as if to wave away the compliment*
3. "Thanks; I know, I'm awesome." *make cheesy face and ham it up as if actually conceited, then laugh*
Why do I have such trouble accepting compliments? Let me be perfectly honest and open-- I'm not fishing for compliments here, so don't post any-- this is just my analysis of yet another neuroses I've discovered. Ha. See, some girls are born pretty. They grow up pretty, and they stay pretty. Some girls are blessed that way, but I wasn't. However, my cousin was. She was always an adorable blond, and I'll never forget my aunt telling her she'd grow up to be "a heartbreaker." I didn't realize what a heartbreaker was, but I remember wishing someone would tell me that I'd grow up to be a heartbreaker. Some girls grow up hearing they're beautiful and knowing they're beautiful, and that's what they develop: their beauty. It's what they're praised for, so they develop it, just as an athlete who is praised for her ability develops that ability-- you naturally develop what you're good at.
I was a perpetually chubby child with curly red hair and a face that reddened all too easily. I didn't have beautiful, dark eyelashes framing my ambiguously colored eyes. I had pale lashes that made me look like an albino. I didn't have smooth, tanned skin. I had freckles. I wore glasses at an early age. I had a gap between my teeth. I had a nose too big for my face. I had a too-pointy chin. Don't get me wrong-- I never thought I was hideous. I figured I was normal-looking, but not pretty. Girls who are not pretty realize they must develop other things if they want to be accepted. So I developed my intelligence and my humor.
I became the smart, funny chubby girl with curly red hair and a red, freckled face with glasses. I didn't have to be a genius though to know I wasn't one of the pretty girls, to know I wasn't one of the heartbreakers. The pretty girls always had boys around them. The pretty girls had nice clothes and wore makeup and did their hair. The pretty girls were the most popular girls in school. I had friends not because I was pretty, but because I was friendly. There were very few boys around me, and I never really developed my looks because I knew there wasn't much to work with. It was like trying to water a weed in hopes that it would flower into a rose. I can't say I really minded though. I was content. I wouldn't have minded being pretty of course, but I knew this was the way God made me. Besides, if we were all beautiful, life would be boring. I was just mixing it up a bit. In fact, the pretty girls should have thanked me! I made them look more beautiful.
I don't remember when things changed, but at some point in my recent history, maybe when my face grew into my nose and chin, I lost most of my chubbiness, and I figured out how to tame my curly red hair and love my freckles, I started getting compliments. And I didn't have any clue how to handle them. My first reaction was to disagree with them. But I found that made people uncomfortable and made it seem like I was fishing for more compliments, which was exactly what I didn't want. Then my reaction was to choose one of the three options I listed above, but inwardly not believe them. How could I believe them? I'd never been pretty. I'm still the chubby redhead with curly hair and a big nose and freckles. Maybe they're just trying to make me feel better about the way I look. Maybe they're just saying that.
And that's where you find me today. The other day, a friend complimented me. And suddenly I analyzed my instinct to not believe her. She wouldn't lie to me, so why did I find it so hard to believe her? I wondered if anyone else like me had similar issues. Did other "ugly ducklings" in youth always feel like an ugly duckling? I am a confident woman when it comes to my intellect and my wit because I was forced to develop those things in my youth. But I may always feel insecure about my looks. I have determined to try to graciously accept compliments without awkwardness or self depreciation, but I may never really believe them. In my mirror, I may always see myself at twelve. Did the real Ugly Duckling ever stop seeing himself as such and really see himself as a swan?
July 1, 2010
Oh, How Things Have Changed...
Bestie and her husband are leaving the youth ministry to lead the college ministry. Last night at youth group, we spent time honoring their service. They were asked about some of their most memorable moments, and Bestie mentioned that morning three years ago when the two of us boarded a bus full of strangers, headed to camp.
And all I could think was, Oh, how things have changed.
We dived in head first into summer camp, not knowing anyone besides each other. I was dreadfully uncomfortable and therefore painfully shy. What am I thinking? Why am I here? I knew I was supposed to be there but if I were to be perfectly honest, I didn't entirely want to be there. It was stretching and oh so scary. We had been hired to teach in the fall, but we hadn't even moved yet. I thought I was being tested to my limits, but unbeknownst to me, the testing hadn't even begun.
**********
My attic room was dark, the hall light casting shadows on the barren walls that had been so perfectly decorated. I sat up in the bed I'd slept in for most of my life and looked around at the emptiness. I cried. I sobbed. In the morning, I was leaving the home of my youth. I sobbed for the life I would leave behind. I sobbed for the people I would leave behind. I sobbed for the uncertainty of the future and my new life. It was the night of Independence Day, and it was my independence day as well. In the morning, I left my hometown in Illinois and made my way to my new life in Florida. The homesickness lasted a long time. My body was in Clearwater, but my heart was in Midlothian. Again, I knew I was in the right place, but that didn't mean I wanted to be there.
I think a year passed before I even really smiled. I remember thinking about Bestie and how easily she seemed to fit in, make friends, and be herself, and I couldn't figure out why I couldn't seem to fit in, make friends, and be myself. I had been lonely, unhappy, and discontent. Yet things started to change over time. I had become comfortable in my ministry and had made friends, but the testing wasn't over.
Bestie began dating. Then the real challenges began and late nights alone, crying, much like that night before I left for Florida. But miraculously, what had become the greatest test and strain became the greatest opportunity for growth. My attitude, my spirit, and my life changed, only because of the Holy Spirit's work in my heart.
Then Bestie got married, and I got my own place. You find me now, not the girl I was in the empty room in Midlothian, but a woman who is content with her life and can smile at the unknowns of the future. A woman who loves her job, her ministry, and the people in her life. A woman whose heart has changed more over the last three years than maybe ever in her life.
Three years ago on July 5, I made the greatest leap of faith I've ever had to make thus far. And though it was a most painful and stretching experience, I would not and could not change a moment, because God used each and every moment to make me into a godly woman, and that's what I have asked Him to do. When I think about what has happened in the last three years, I smile with the anticipation of what God will do in the next three years. And it's a real smile. A real, contented, happy smile.
2007:
2010:
And all I could think was, Oh, how things have changed.
We dived in head first into summer camp, not knowing anyone besides each other. I was dreadfully uncomfortable and therefore painfully shy. What am I thinking? Why am I here? I knew I was supposed to be there but if I were to be perfectly honest, I didn't entirely want to be there. It was stretching and oh so scary. We had been hired to teach in the fall, but we hadn't even moved yet. I thought I was being tested to my limits, but unbeknownst to me, the testing hadn't even begun.
**********
My attic room was dark, the hall light casting shadows on the barren walls that had been so perfectly decorated. I sat up in the bed I'd slept in for most of my life and looked around at the emptiness. I cried. I sobbed. In the morning, I was leaving the home of my youth. I sobbed for the life I would leave behind. I sobbed for the people I would leave behind. I sobbed for the uncertainty of the future and my new life. It was the night of Independence Day, and it was my independence day as well. In the morning, I left my hometown in Illinois and made my way to my new life in Florida. The homesickness lasted a long time. My body was in Clearwater, but my heart was in Midlothian. Again, I knew I was in the right place, but that didn't mean I wanted to be there.
I think a year passed before I even really smiled. I remember thinking about Bestie and how easily she seemed to fit in, make friends, and be herself, and I couldn't figure out why I couldn't seem to fit in, make friends, and be myself. I had been lonely, unhappy, and discontent. Yet things started to change over time. I had become comfortable in my ministry and had made friends, but the testing wasn't over.
Bestie began dating. Then the real challenges began and late nights alone, crying, much like that night before I left for Florida. But miraculously, what had become the greatest test and strain became the greatest opportunity for growth. My attitude, my spirit, and my life changed, only because of the Holy Spirit's work in my heart.
Then Bestie got married, and I got my own place. You find me now, not the girl I was in the empty room in Midlothian, but a woman who is content with her life and can smile at the unknowns of the future. A woman who loves her job, her ministry, and the people in her life. A woman whose heart has changed more over the last three years than maybe ever in her life.
Three years ago on July 5, I made the greatest leap of faith I've ever had to make thus far. And though it was a most painful and stretching experience, I would not and could not change a moment, because God used each and every moment to make me into a godly woman, and that's what I have asked Him to do. When I think about what has happened in the last three years, I smile with the anticipation of what God will do in the next three years. And it's a real smile. A real, contented, happy smile.
2007:
June 24, 2010
Move Over, Prince Charming...
Once upon a time, there was a young girl/woman who read Christian romantic fiction. Led into delusion by poor writing and tacky storytelling, she came to believe that there were men who were paragons of virtuous manliness, handsome beyond compare with chiseled features and luxurious hair, brave warriors... and they were sensitive and knew exactly how to bare their soul in the choicest of words and most sensational turns of phrase.
And then I went to college and realized the myth that is the Christian romantic fiction hero. I truly have a bone to pick with these writers-- why help young women (or old women, for that matter) fill their minds with expectations that will never be met, making us vulnerable to discontentment? Regardless of how I now feel about Christian romantic fiction (that's a soap box for another time), it caused me at one point to develop a running list of characteristics I'd like in a future husband.
In the back of my old flowered journal that began eight years ago with the beginning of college, this list is a reminder to me of my youth and my ignorance. Of course there were sensible things on the list, but here is an example of how detailed my list had become:
34. Likes pets.
45. A great storyteller.
64. Gives bear hugs.
I know, I know. I'm laughing even as I type. And yes, there were 71 items on this list. 71. I was setting myself up for disappointment. I suppose the list became more of a list of things I appreciate in a man, not necessarily characteristics my future spouse must have. But my list was a description of Prince Charming. Yuck. Who wants a perfect Prince Charming, anyway? Not me.
If I was still expecting that list of 71 items to be met in one person, I would be concerned for me. But as God has molded me and shaped me and changed my thinking, he's peppered a bit of reality into my list. It's funny, because as I was talking to my dear friend over Chick-fil-A in the mall about a month ago, I realized that I'd pared that list down to one thing. One very important, all-inclusive, umbrella thing:
1. Is striving to love the Lord more than anything else in this life.
I mean, obviously I have personal preferences. Like, I would much rather marry someone who makes me laugh than someone who is always serious, and I would much rather marry someone who can carry a conversation than someone who is quiet. But when I think of what really matters, this is it. Everything else that truly matters in a spouse trickles down from this. If I hope he'll be respectful, humble, a good steward, and a servant, these things will naturally occur in a life that is focused on loving the Lord. That is the one characteristic I am looking for.
And let it be known, I'm also not expecting to find a man my age who has the spiritual maturity of a John MacArthur, either. I expect that we will learn and grow in the Lord together, and that's part of the partnership adventure. I think the key word in that one characteristic is striving. That implies someone who is teachable and zealous, who will make mistakes but learn from them and grow from them. And it's my hope that this man will be looking for the same one characteristic in his future wife. Because then our relationship will be built on the one thing that lasts-- not bear hugs, not stories, not pets, but the Lord.
I am confident that God will bless that, and as a reward for my long wait, will not only provide me with a husband who is striving to love the Lord more than anything else in this life, but also a husband who gives pretty good bear hugs, tells good stories, and likes pets. :)
And then I went to college and realized the myth that is the Christian romantic fiction hero. I truly have a bone to pick with these writers-- why help young women (or old women, for that matter) fill their minds with expectations that will never be met, making us vulnerable to discontentment? Regardless of how I now feel about Christian romantic fiction (that's a soap box for another time), it caused me at one point to develop a running list of characteristics I'd like in a future husband.
In the back of my old flowered journal that began eight years ago with the beginning of college, this list is a reminder to me of my youth and my ignorance. Of course there were sensible things on the list, but here is an example of how detailed my list had become:
34. Likes pets.
45. A great storyteller.
64. Gives bear hugs.
I know, I know. I'm laughing even as I type. And yes, there were 71 items on this list. 71. I was setting myself up for disappointment. I suppose the list became more of a list of things I appreciate in a man, not necessarily characteristics my future spouse must have. But my list was a description of Prince Charming. Yuck. Who wants a perfect Prince Charming, anyway? Not me.
If I was still expecting that list of 71 items to be met in one person, I would be concerned for me. But as God has molded me and shaped me and changed my thinking, he's peppered a bit of reality into my list. It's funny, because as I was talking to my dear friend over Chick-fil-A in the mall about a month ago, I realized that I'd pared that list down to one thing. One very important, all-inclusive, umbrella thing:
1. Is striving to love the Lord more than anything else in this life.
I mean, obviously I have personal preferences. Like, I would much rather marry someone who makes me laugh than someone who is always serious, and I would much rather marry someone who can carry a conversation than someone who is quiet. But when I think of what really matters, this is it. Everything else that truly matters in a spouse trickles down from this. If I hope he'll be respectful, humble, a good steward, and a servant, these things will naturally occur in a life that is focused on loving the Lord. That is the one characteristic I am looking for.
And let it be known, I'm also not expecting to find a man my age who has the spiritual maturity of a John MacArthur, either. I expect that we will learn and grow in the Lord together, and that's part of the partnership adventure. I think the key word in that one characteristic is striving. That implies someone who is teachable and zealous, who will make mistakes but learn from them and grow from them. And it's my hope that this man will be looking for the same one characteristic in his future wife. Because then our relationship will be built on the one thing that lasts-- not bear hugs, not stories, not pets, but the Lord.
I am confident that God will bless that, and as a reward for my long wait, will not only provide me with a husband who is striving to love the Lord more than anything else in this life, but also a husband who gives pretty good bear hugs, tells good stories, and likes pets. :)
June 22, 2010
Traveling Nostalgia...
Writing again? Yes, yes, it's true. All this down time as school is out and camp is over and I'm recovering from a sore throat has given me a lot of time to think. And since I'm trying not to spend every waking moment on facebook, I resort to spilling my thoughts into my blog.
Today I pulled out the journal in which I wrote during my post-college backpacking trip across Europe. I flipped to June 22 and found that at this time four years ago, it was our last day in Mittenwald, Germany. Mittenwald is a tiny winter skiing town in the Alps, right next to Austria. It was a little haven, seemingly untouched by consumerism and the downsides of modernity. Mittenwald was our happy accident, and one of the highlights of our trip. When we walked onto our balcony, this was our view (well, except I was not always sitting there):
This is where we rested up and recharged our batteries for the last leg of our journey. We rented bikes in this little town and biked through the countryside and into Austria, feeling a little bit like we were in The Sound of Music. Our hearts were light, pedaling and singing and smiling.
May I share some other tidbits with you? I found another section in my journal in which I describe the perfection of Rome at night. Rereading it, I could feel the cool breeze on my skin, see the full moon beyond the shadowed olive trees, and smell the night-blooming jasmine. I could remember the contentment as the four of us settled into the little plastic chairs outside our cabins, ready to play cards and not quite ready to say goodbye to another day in Italy. But I threw a coin into this fountain, so it is written that I return one day:
And then the closest thing I've come to heaven: the Cinque Terre. It didn't matter that we four were sleeping in a 9 x 9 tent with our feet propped up on our luggage. It didn't matter that I left my glasses there in the bathrooms far from our campsite. It didn't matter that I had an asthma attack hiking the cities. This was the most idyllic, pristine section of Earth that I've ever seen. The water was more blue than any blue I'd ever laid my eyes on. We walked the steep, narrow, crumbling steps through vineyards teetering on cliffs, hundreds of feet above crashing blue. Each view was more breathtaking than the last (literally):
At the tail end of our journey, we took a few day trips. One day we went to Normandy Beach. I stood on the sand upon which hundreds of Allies gave their lives to help end WWII. It was remarkable. Then we went in search for the D-Day museum and got lost on the winding country roads, and nearly had to hitchhike back to our bus. Then the next day was the 4th of July, and we went to Monet's gardens at Giverny. When we returned, the four of us felt quite depressed, as naturally the French do not celebrate the American Independence Day. So I drew a very rudimentary American Flag on a piece of paper and held it up. From the un-air-conditioned attic room of the hotel in Paris, we raised our voices in a harmonized "Star-Spangled Banner." And as dusk settled over Paris and we tried to stay cool in the blazing heat, this was my view:
This little "walk" down memory lane is borne of my very intense desire to travel yet again. There is just something in me that must see the world. I would visit each of these places again, but I have many others on my list as well. Hopefully, Israel will be my next trip, next summer. I have been reading Worldliness, edited by C.J. Mahaney. In the last chapter, Jeff Purswell writes that "If creation is both God's witness and gift [and it is], we have the dual responsibility of studying and enjoying the world around us. Such activities are part of what it means to glorify God as his image bearers."
I see what he means. During my trip I saw through the sin, the modernity, the rush and rubble and could see the parts of God's creation that he would have called "good." And I had no choice but to praise the Creator for the beauty He'd created, and long for the beauty of my heavenly home, which will be far greater than even the best of what I've seen so far, or I'll ever see.
PS, all of these photos are indeed mine. Should you have any interest in the rest of the pictures from this journey, they begin here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2004374&id=163800206&l=8b28468d5f
Today I pulled out the journal in which I wrote during my post-college backpacking trip across Europe. I flipped to June 22 and found that at this time four years ago, it was our last day in Mittenwald, Germany. Mittenwald is a tiny winter skiing town in the Alps, right next to Austria. It was a little haven, seemingly untouched by consumerism and the downsides of modernity. Mittenwald was our happy accident, and one of the highlights of our trip. When we walked onto our balcony, this was our view (well, except I was not always sitting there):This is where we rested up and recharged our batteries for the last leg of our journey. We rented bikes in this little town and biked through the countryside and into Austria, feeling a little bit like we were in The Sound of Music. Our hearts were light, pedaling and singing and smiling.
May I share some other tidbits with you? I found another section in my journal in which I describe the perfection of Rome at night. Rereading it, I could feel the cool breeze on my skin, see the full moon beyond the shadowed olive trees, and smell the night-blooming jasmine. I could remember the contentment as the four of us settled into the little plastic chairs outside our cabins, ready to play cards and not quite ready to say goodbye to another day in Italy. But I threw a coin into this fountain, so it is written that I return one day:
And then the closest thing I've come to heaven: the Cinque Terre. It didn't matter that we four were sleeping in a 9 x 9 tent with our feet propped up on our luggage. It didn't matter that I left my glasses there in the bathrooms far from our campsite. It didn't matter that I had an asthma attack hiking the cities. This was the most idyllic, pristine section of Earth that I've ever seen. The water was more blue than any blue I'd ever laid my eyes on. We walked the steep, narrow, crumbling steps through vineyards teetering on cliffs, hundreds of feet above crashing blue. Each view was more breathtaking than the last (literally):At the tail end of our journey, we took a few day trips. One day we went to Normandy Beach. I stood on the sand upon which hundreds of Allies gave their lives to help end WWII. It was remarkable. Then we went in search for the D-Day museum and got lost on the winding country roads, and nearly had to hitchhike back to our bus. Then the next day was the 4th of July, and we went to Monet's gardens at Giverny. When we returned, the four of us felt quite depressed, as naturally the French do not celebrate the American Independence Day. So I drew a very rudimentary American Flag on a piece of paper and held it up. From the un-air-conditioned attic room of the hotel in Paris, we raised our voices in a harmonized "Star-Spangled Banner." And as dusk settled over Paris and we tried to stay cool in the blazing heat, this was my view:
I see what he means. During my trip I saw through the sin, the modernity, the rush and rubble and could see the parts of God's creation that he would have called "good." And I had no choice but to praise the Creator for the beauty He'd created, and long for the beauty of my heavenly home, which will be far greater than even the best of what I've seen so far, or I'll ever see.
PS, all of these photos are indeed mine. Should you have any interest in the rest of the pictures from this journey, they begin here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2004374&id=163800206&l=8b28468d5f
May 22, 2010
"On My Own"...
My apartment complex sent me a notice today with information pertaining to my lease renewal. They are raising my rent by almost $60 a month. I'm not an extremely emotional person, but my eyes filled with tears. Overreaction? Possibly. But they also initiated a change of cable/Internet provider, which raised my Internet costs by $30, and I won't even go into the upward-trending cost of utilities. As a single woman and a teacher in a Christian school, I struggle to make ends meet. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to sing along to my iPod. It happened to be "On My Own" from Les Miserables, so I abruptly turned it to some Train song instead; I was going to a friend's house and didn't want to show up with my cry face.
But I called Mom later. I told her all of this, voiced my concerns, and even got a bit emotional. I told her how hard it was for me to be alone, and then it slipped out:
"It's hard because there's no one to take care of me."
"Ah, so that's really it, isn't it? It's not as much about the money..." Is essentially what my intuitive mom replied.
And she was right. Ultimately I know God will provide for me. I know this because last summer, when I moved into my own place and was a bridesmaid in two weddings (three very expensive, unexpected, budget-unfriendly things), God brought me enough money for each bill, and I survived. So it's not so much the money thing, though it is unbelievably frustrating to simply make ends meet and not be able to afford travel and other things I so enjoy. The real trouble is my unmet desire to be cared for by "someone with skin," as my mom put it.
Most every girl wants to be taken care of. We want someone to provide for us and protect us. This is why it's very hard, almost unnatural, for me to live on my own. Though terribly independent, I want to be cared for. Enigmatic? Perhaps. But therein lies my biggest struggle. Maybe you're thinking, she's back on the discontentment thing again? Yeah, I am; after all, this is a blog about a single girl's struggles, and though I can't speak for any other single girl, I can certainly be transparent about myself. This is an ongoing battle. My victorious moments when I am content in the Lord and I'm trusting Him for the future are only sort-of victorious, because I know inevitably I will be here again with the same old struggle.
But, as with all struggles, the beauty is that God's grace can so clearly be seen. When I am weak, then I am strong. God has taken care of me financially, and he will take care of me emotionally. If he cares enough to balance my checkbook, he cares enough to dry my tears. It's just a matter of deciding to remember that, and probably steering clear of "On My Own" for just a little while longer.
But I called Mom later. I told her all of this, voiced my concerns, and even got a bit emotional. I told her how hard it was for me to be alone, and then it slipped out:
"It's hard because there's no one to take care of me."
"Ah, so that's really it, isn't it? It's not as much about the money..." Is essentially what my intuitive mom replied.
And she was right. Ultimately I know God will provide for me. I know this because last summer, when I moved into my own place and was a bridesmaid in two weddings (three very expensive, unexpected, budget-unfriendly things), God brought me enough money for each bill, and I survived. So it's not so much the money thing, though it is unbelievably frustrating to simply make ends meet and not be able to afford travel and other things I so enjoy. The real trouble is my unmet desire to be cared for by "someone with skin," as my mom put it.
Most every girl wants to be taken care of. We want someone to provide for us and protect us. This is why it's very hard, almost unnatural, for me to live on my own. Though terribly independent, I want to be cared for. Enigmatic? Perhaps. But therein lies my biggest struggle. Maybe you're thinking, she's back on the discontentment thing again? Yeah, I am; after all, this is a blog about a single girl's struggles, and though I can't speak for any other single girl, I can certainly be transparent about myself. This is an ongoing battle. My victorious moments when I am content in the Lord and I'm trusting Him for the future are only sort-of victorious, because I know inevitably I will be here again with the same old struggle.
But, as with all struggles, the beauty is that God's grace can so clearly be seen. When I am weak, then I am strong. God has taken care of me financially, and he will take care of me emotionally. If he cares enough to balance my checkbook, he cares enough to dry my tears. It's just a matter of deciding to remember that, and probably steering clear of "On My Own" for just a little while longer.
March 27, 2010
Why I Will Not Follow My Heart...
Hello Blogosphere, a.k.a. any of the 20 people who may read this :). I've been out of town, but nevertheless the wheels in my head have been turning and the contemplative cockles of my heart have not been idle. I've experienced a good long run of contentment and strength, something that has encouraged me more than I ever thought possible. That long run has come to a standstill. Recently I've been struggling with the topic of worth; specifically, my worth.
My name means "worthy of love," but recently, I haven't been so sure. During college, when my faith grew and I learned more about the God I serve and my relationship with Him, I realized the following nuggets of truth: I have been created in the image of God, and because of that I have worth. I am not worthy of God's love, because I have rebelled against His Word. Even so, God loves me, His creation. Because He loves me, I have worth. Christ died to save me from my rebellious nature, and because I believe and follow that truth, I receive the full benefits of His love, including eternal life in heaven one day.
Unfortunately, my heart of hearts believes that I am worthy of love, and because I do not have the love of a man, I must not have worth. My head knows this is not true. I know those nuggets of truth you just read-- I know my family loves me, I know God loves me, and I know that my worth must be found in Christ alone. My heart wrestles with this, and I would venture to say that many other single women struggle with this very issue. We know the truth about our worth, but choosing to believe it is an entirely enormous feat. When we read silly books and watch silly movies and TV shows and even walk in the silly mall, we see "evidence" that we are worthless. Our hearts tell us that if we had worth, a man would find us valuable-- so valuable that he would want us above all others and treasure us forever. Our hearts tell us that until a man loves us, we are just formless rock, so unlike the diamond who is loved. Our hearts tell us that if we had worth, men would call us to talk to us, desire to spend time with us, and choose us over other things they value.
The problem is this: the Bible makes it clear that the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. So it doesn't matter what my heart tells me-- if what my heart tells me goes against the truth nuggets I've learned from the Word, it's not true. The Bible also tells me that I should be thinking about whatever is true, not whatever my heart tells me. So, contrary to pop culture, I will not "follow my heart." Because my heart tells me that I am worthless simply because I'm not loved by a man. The truth is, I'm not worthless. I'm not worthy of God's love, but He gives it to me. And because He chooses to love me, I have worth, worth greater than that which can be gained by the love of a man.
My name means "worthy of love," but recently, I haven't been so sure. During college, when my faith grew and I learned more about the God I serve and my relationship with Him, I realized the following nuggets of truth: I have been created in the image of God, and because of that I have worth. I am not worthy of God's love, because I have rebelled against His Word. Even so, God loves me, His creation. Because He loves me, I have worth. Christ died to save me from my rebellious nature, and because I believe and follow that truth, I receive the full benefits of His love, including eternal life in heaven one day.
Unfortunately, my heart of hearts believes that I am worthy of love, and because I do not have the love of a man, I must not have worth. My head knows this is not true. I know those nuggets of truth you just read-- I know my family loves me, I know God loves me, and I know that my worth must be found in Christ alone. My heart wrestles with this, and I would venture to say that many other single women struggle with this very issue. We know the truth about our worth, but choosing to believe it is an entirely enormous feat. When we read silly books and watch silly movies and TV shows and even walk in the silly mall, we see "evidence" that we are worthless. Our hearts tell us that if we had worth, a man would find us valuable-- so valuable that he would want us above all others and treasure us forever. Our hearts tell us that until a man loves us, we are just formless rock, so unlike the diamond who is loved. Our hearts tell us that if we had worth, men would call us to talk to us, desire to spend time with us, and choose us over other things they value.
The problem is this: the Bible makes it clear that the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. So it doesn't matter what my heart tells me-- if what my heart tells me goes against the truth nuggets I've learned from the Word, it's not true. The Bible also tells me that I should be thinking about whatever is true, not whatever my heart tells me. So, contrary to pop culture, I will not "follow my heart." Because my heart tells me that I am worthless simply because I'm not loved by a man. The truth is, I'm not worthless. I'm not worthy of God's love, but He gives it to me. And because He chooses to love me, I have worth, worth greater than that which can be gained by the love of a man.
March 14, 2010
Save the Hero...
I'd like you to read the following lyrics to "Save the Hero," by Beyonce. THEN I will give you my two cents worth of information (alright, by now you know my verbosity will probably give you two dollars worth of information).
"I lay alone awake at night
Sorrow fills my eyes
But I’m not strong enough to cry
Despite of my disguise
I’m left with no shoulder
But everybody wants to lean on me.
I guess I’m their soldier.
Well, who’s gonna be mine
Who’s there to save the hero
When she’s left all alone
And she’s crying out for help.
Who’s there to save the hero
Who’s there to save the girl…
After she saves the world
After she saves the world.
I bottle all my hurt inside,
I guess I’m living a lie.
Inside my mind each day I die
What can bring me back to life?
A simple word, a gesture
Someone to say you’re beautiful
Come find this buried treasure
Rainbows lead to a pot of gold.
Who’s there to save the hero
When she’s left all alone
And she’s crying out for help
Who’s there to save the hero
Who’s there to save the girl
After she saves the world…
After she saves the world.
I’ve given too much of myself
And now it’s driving me crazy
(I’m crying out for help?
Sometimes I wish someone would
Just come here and save me…
Save me from myself
Who’s there to save the hero
When she’s left all alone
And she’s crying out for help
Who’s there to save the hero
Who’s there to save the girl
After she saves the world…
After she saves the world."
The first time I really listened to this song, it resonated deep within me. Of course, I don't see myself as a hero of any kind, but the lyrics so accurately portray the loneliness of singleness that it gave me pause. And then I realized, I don't have the luxury of thinking this way anymore.
This song is the way old Amanda used to think. Self-pitying Amanda would ask herself whose shoulder she could lean on after being the soldier for so many. It's easy to feel this way, and easy to stay thinking this way. I'd even go so far as to say it feels good, in a backwards, self-indulgent kind of way of one who takes a twisted pride in her plights.
And then I became aware of how self-pitying and selfish these thoughts were; with that realization, I lost the "luxury" of wallowing in self-pity. Now I simply know this kind of thinking is not right, and I immediately have to cut off those thoughts when they begin. You think I exaggerate? No indeed. The moment I start thinking, Poor me, I'm all alone. Whom can I lean on? Where's my hero? I have no one. I'm alone, I literally tell myself to shut up, because when I coddle myself and tell myself those thoughts are okay, I allow myself to travel down a road that no one should go down, a road well-traveled by singles throughout the years.
So, this song resonates deeply with my old self and my tendencies today. This song is accurate, but not the whole picture. I think it accurately describes the feelings of many strong, single women... yet when it asks who will save the girl after she saves the world, it doesn't take into consideration the One who has saved me and completed me, the One who is my Rock and Fortress, and ever-present Help in times of trouble. The One who never leaves me or forsakes me. The One for whom I live and breathe is more than enough, and I am thankful to say that this song no longer accurately portrays my day-to-day life. Though I struggle, my thinking has changed. To God be the glory.
"I lay alone awake at night
Sorrow fills my eyes
But I’m not strong enough to cry
Despite of my disguise
I’m left with no shoulder
But everybody wants to lean on me.
I guess I’m their soldier.
Well, who’s gonna be mine
Who’s there to save the hero
When she’s left all alone
And she’s crying out for help.
Who’s there to save the hero
Who’s there to save the girl…
After she saves the world
After she saves the world.
I bottle all my hurt inside,
I guess I’m living a lie.
Inside my mind each day I die
What can bring me back to life?
A simple word, a gesture
Someone to say you’re beautiful
Come find this buried treasure
Rainbows lead to a pot of gold.
Who’s there to save the hero
When she’s left all alone
And she’s crying out for help
Who’s there to save the hero
Who’s there to save the girl
After she saves the world…
After she saves the world.
I’ve given too much of myself
And now it’s driving me crazy
(I’m crying out for help?
Sometimes I wish someone would
Just come here and save me…
Save me from myself
Who’s there to save the hero
When she’s left all alone
And she’s crying out for help
Who’s there to save the hero
Who’s there to save the girl
After she saves the world…
After she saves the world."
The first time I really listened to this song, it resonated deep within me. Of course, I don't see myself as a hero of any kind, but the lyrics so accurately portray the loneliness of singleness that it gave me pause. And then I realized, I don't have the luxury of thinking this way anymore.
This song is the way old Amanda used to think. Self-pitying Amanda would ask herself whose shoulder she could lean on after being the soldier for so many. It's easy to feel this way, and easy to stay thinking this way. I'd even go so far as to say it feels good, in a backwards, self-indulgent kind of way of one who takes a twisted pride in her plights.
And then I became aware of how self-pitying and selfish these thoughts were; with that realization, I lost the "luxury" of wallowing in self-pity. Now I simply know this kind of thinking is not right, and I immediately have to cut off those thoughts when they begin. You think I exaggerate? No indeed. The moment I start thinking, Poor me, I'm all alone. Whom can I lean on? Where's my hero? I have no one. I'm alone, I literally tell myself to shut up, because when I coddle myself and tell myself those thoughts are okay, I allow myself to travel down a road that no one should go down, a road well-traveled by singles throughout the years.
So, this song resonates deeply with my old self and my tendencies today. This song is accurate, but not the whole picture. I think it accurately describes the feelings of many strong, single women... yet when it asks who will save the girl after she saves the world, it doesn't take into consideration the One who has saved me and completed me, the One who is my Rock and Fortress, and ever-present Help in times of trouble. The One who never leaves me or forsakes me. The One for whom I live and breathe is more than enough, and I am thankful to say that this song no longer accurately portrays my day-to-day life. Though I struggle, my thinking has changed. To God be the glory.
February 11, 2010
My First Ebenezer...
There are moments in my life which I remember with perfect clarity-- the day Kristin and I signed our first contracts for our first teaching jobs, the snowy afternoon I opened my acceptance letter from Moody, and that snowless, dreary February day when I reached the first real turning point in my faith...
February 12, 2000 was an unseasonably tepidly cool Saturday. I was sitting on the couch, and the phone rang. I looked behind me out the window. The grass was brown, dead, with the snow long-melted but the spring still far off. I didn't know what the phone call was about, but really, I did. Dad came in and told me that Tim had died, and I cried. I went upstairs and turned on my late-90s Christian music and leaned against my tall dresser and cried. I opened up my journal-- a Veggie Tales journal that still bore the traces of girlhood-- and I wrote what had happened, my mascara-tinted tears staining the page. As I think back ten years, I remember that girl, sitting on her bed, crying. Her heart was broken. She didn't understand. Her life had changed and she didn't think the pain would ever, ever subside. She certainly couldn't see ten years into the future, and how this event would forever change her life.
Let me back up even farther. It's May, 1998. I was about to graduate eighth grade. I was to leave the friends with whom I'd spent nine years of my life and enroll in a Christian high school, full of beautiful tall, blond, Dutch models... and I didn't know a soul. As if that weren't frightening enough for a fourteen year-old, my parents had dropped a bomb on me. We were leaving the church in which I'd grown up. This was the church where I'd met my closest friends, been involved in AWANA for years, and created countless memories. We were leaving and I didn't understand. My whole world capsized, and to a fourteen year-old with deep emotions and a lack of control over them, this was unbearable.
We started church hunting one Sunday, beginning at Grace Fellowship Church... and we never left. Immediately I was welcomed into the youth group. The girls liked my homemade "glow worm" dress. They took me on a walk during the church picnic with the intent to witness to me, because they didn't know if I was a believer. They showed me the love of Christ. Their leader was Tim Yetter, a young Moody grad with a wacky sense of humor and a deep love for the Lord. This youth group and its leader began something in me that would change the rest of my life: I think it was sometime after joining this youth group that my Pharisaical faith became real. What I'd always heard about and known in my head finally entered my heart and I believed it and wanted to live it the way Tim lived it. I'd never seen someone so young be so on fire for the Lord. He inspired the whole youth group to be "fully-devoted followers of Christ." The lessons I learned as I entered high school were the building blocks of my true faith, and little did I expect that I would soon need to rest on those blocks when the storm came.
The youth group wasn't perfect. We probably idolized Tim too much. But even so, he always pointed back to Christ, quoting John the Baptist: "He must become greater; I must become less." But one day, on a youth retreat in Minnesota (the picture at the top of the post-- he is seated front left), Tim mentioned some fleeting health concerns. We made fun of him, put Ambersol in his Billy Bob teeth, and forgot about it on the eight-hour ride home in an un-airconditioned bus with vinyl seats. But just a couple months later, he was yellow. Jaundiced, because he had a rare disease of the liver. And as if that weren't enough, by winter we knew he had liver cancer. He was 27. He was our youth pastor. This wasn't supposed to happen to him. His ministry was thriving. Things like this didn't happen to people like him, right? His name went on the transplant list. I recall one night around Christmas, youth group had been canceled because Tim was on his way to potentially get a transplant. We gathered anyway in the sanctuary that was lit with Christmas candles and prayed. We sang. We made the choice to trust God rather than blame him.
The transplant didn't pan out. So we had an all-nighter. Tim spoke to us and fed us the words we'd heard him say before: "He must become greater, I must become less." He was weak, yellow, dying. But there were words of praise, not words of pain coming from his mouth. Two weeks later was the day Tim went to be with Jesus.
And that's where you meet that girl on the bed. I say "that girl," because I am no longer "that girl." Because that day, I knew I had a decision to make: I could choose to not trust this God who had allowed something so terrible to happen to such a wonderful leader and teacher... or I could choose to trust that this God was sovereign and good, with a purpose so beyond me that I could not understand. And here I raise my ebenezer: I trusted him. I trusted him, and that test of my faith grew me more than I could have ever imagined, because I (and the rest of the youth group) was forced to depend on the Lord and trust and hope that good would come from this painful situation.
It wasn't easy. I remember going to bed each night and praying that God would make me not miss him as much the next day, that it would hurt a little less. I thought I'd never heal. But I did. Years passed, and the series of events that have played out in my life are sovereignly connected to Tim's impact on my life. I attended Moody Bible Institute, which forever changed my life and my relationship with the Lord, and it led me to move to Florida where I now have my own ministry to young girls whom I teach to be fully-devoted followers of Christ.
I can't let February 12 go by without remembering Tim Yetter, being thankful for his spiritual legacy, and most importantly, giving credit to God for orchestrating events in a way that changed my life more than I could have ever imagined (and I know I'm not the only one). The point of this blog is a memorial and a reminder to me from whence I came, and an encouragement to myself to continue trusting God for my future.
I pray that if you read this, you think about your spiritual legacy. I pray that if you read this, you remember the fact that God is sovereign and good. And I pray that you strive to be a "fully-devoted follower of Christ."
And God, the next time you see him, please tell Tim "thanks" for me, and let him know that I'm keeping the main thing the main thing. :)
February 5, 2010
Cyberspace Graffiti...
There is graffiti in a stall in the school in which I work that reads something like this: "hello person in the last stall. You would choose the last stall. I like it here too. <3"
What is the purpose behind writing with a Sharpie on the outdated, speckled tile of a bathroom wall? Or etching your nickname into a desk? Or musing on the graffiti-littered bunk beds at camp? Legacy. We want to leave a legacy-- make our mark, leave something behind. Some kind of physical emblem that evidences our brief existence. Isn't that why it's done? So we can point to it in the future, smile, and say, "that was me. I was here. I made my mark." And as I thought about this odd social practice that evidences such insecurity, I asked myself one uncomfortable question: is this what blogging is for me? My way to make an indelible mark in cyberspace? A kind of world-wide graffiti? Is blogging a way to leave a legacy-- evidence that I existed and my life meant something?
I suppose to an extent that's true, and for many people with blogs it must be true. But as I explored this topic, I found that this is the real reason I blog:
Though I'd never begin to actually compare myself to David or my writing to the Psalms, my goal in writing is to do what the Psalmist did-- lament or joy about the things of life-- true emotion, real though, veritable feelings... but then pull things back to God, where the focus should be, reminding myself of the truth that trumps emotion. This is often for myself-- a chance for me to air my thoughts, type it out, and get my head on straight. But like the Psalmist, I'd really like to encourage my readers. I would hope that by God's grace, readers would relate to what I've written, know they're not alone, and be encouraged to then live and react in an appropriate way. I hope others will learn and benefit from the milestones I've reached in my own life.
So I suppose in a way, I would like my blogging to be a kind of legacy. When I'm gone, if what I've written will point others to Christ, that's the kind of legacy I would like to leave. I've been putting a lot of thought towards the topic of legacies, as that will be much of what we talk about at summer camp this year. What do I want to leave behind? For me, I want to leave behind a group of girls who love the Lord and will in turn teach others about Christ. I want to leave behind writing that points to the Savior and the Truth. I want to leave behind the memory of an example of Christlikeness. And now, in the day-to-day, moment-by-moment, I strive to live my life in such a way that I will indeed leave these legacies, for God's glory.
What legacy do you hope to leave behind? Hopefully it's more than graffiti on a bathroom wall. :)
What is the purpose behind writing with a Sharpie on the outdated, speckled tile of a bathroom wall? Or etching your nickname into a desk? Or musing on the graffiti-littered bunk beds at camp? Legacy. We want to leave a legacy-- make our mark, leave something behind. Some kind of physical emblem that evidences our brief existence. Isn't that why it's done? So we can point to it in the future, smile, and say, "that was me. I was here. I made my mark." And as I thought about this odd social practice that evidences such insecurity, I asked myself one uncomfortable question: is this what blogging is for me? My way to make an indelible mark in cyberspace? A kind of world-wide graffiti? Is blogging a way to leave a legacy-- evidence that I existed and my life meant something?
I suppose to an extent that's true, and for many people with blogs it must be true. But as I explored this topic, I found that this is the real reason I blog:
Though I'd never begin to actually compare myself to David or my writing to the Psalms, my goal in writing is to do what the Psalmist did-- lament or joy about the things of life-- true emotion, real though, veritable feelings... but then pull things back to God, where the focus should be, reminding myself of the truth that trumps emotion. This is often for myself-- a chance for me to air my thoughts, type it out, and get my head on straight. But like the Psalmist, I'd really like to encourage my readers. I would hope that by God's grace, readers would relate to what I've written, know they're not alone, and be encouraged to then live and react in an appropriate way. I hope others will learn and benefit from the milestones I've reached in my own life.
So I suppose in a way, I would like my blogging to be a kind of legacy. When I'm gone, if what I've written will point others to Christ, that's the kind of legacy I would like to leave. I've been putting a lot of thought towards the topic of legacies, as that will be much of what we talk about at summer camp this year. What do I want to leave behind? For me, I want to leave behind a group of girls who love the Lord and will in turn teach others about Christ. I want to leave behind writing that points to the Savior and the Truth. I want to leave behind the memory of an example of Christlikeness. And now, in the day-to-day, moment-by-moment, I strive to live my life in such a way that I will indeed leave these legacies, for God's glory.
January 6, 2010
Like A Lady Gaga Song...
It grew on me, slowly yet unexpectedly, like a Lady Gaga song.
Have you ever had the perfect half of a simile? I have. For the past few days the above was the half of a simile I'd thought up... the only problem was I couldn't finish it. I couldn't think of anything legitimate that could complete the analogy. Until tonight, when what God was trying to teach me grew on me, slowly yet unexpectedly, like a Lady Gaga song... and now forgive the irreverent analogy. I just had to use it. So let me explain:
While I sang the memorized words, my mind numbly traveled elsewhere-- what would I wear tomorrow? All creatures of our God and King, lift up your voice and with us sing-- did I have enough Weight Watcher's points for crackers when I got home? I will worship you Lord, only you Lord...The familiar words poured out of my mouth while my heart, only having just begun to crack at its foundations, was stony and cold. My eyes glazed over as they fixed past the heads of students to the illuminated screen bearing the very same words that fell so vacantly from my mouth.
In that inexplicable way the Holy Spirit has of doing things, suddenly the words I'd been singing from memory penetrated my heart.
Take my fret
Take my fear
All I have I'm leaving here.
Be all my hopes
Be all my dreams
Be all my delights
Be my everything
It washed over me, coming slowly yet suddenly, unexpectedly. Use any metaphor you like-- the lights went on, the dam in my heart burst, it was a catalyst-- whatever. The point is, I got it. I finally got what the Holy Spirit must have been trying to communicate to my stubborn, blind heart for so long.
For the past I-don't-know-how-long, I have been fixated and focused on my unfulfilled dreams, future hopes and seemingly unattainable goals. All my dreams and hopes have distracted me from the ONE THING that is needed. They were unwittingly hedonistic, blanketed by good intentions. In my pursuit of goals (however good they may be), I abandoned my First Love. My dreams and goals in and of themselves aren't bad. But it's been off, the perspective skewed and the priorities whacked. And so no more restlessness. No more fretting. No more obsessing about what to do, where, when, and how. Now it's just God. Just pleasing Him. I have a sneaking suspicion that when my priorities are back in line, my other goals won't matter so much anymore. All the things I want to do? Who really cares. I'll do my best to redeem my time, seize the day, and live life, but my dreams aren't eternal and they have been too ME focused.
So here are some of my new goals: I want to worship God in...
WORK-- always do my best and give my best effort, keep a good attitude even when it's hard, share the gospel with more students
FREE TIME-- spend more of it in prayer, don't waste my time on foolishness, use it wisely.
SPEECH-- stop being so sarcastic, be more encouraging.
THOUGHTS-- stop thinking so much of myself, stop daydreaming so often of the future and possibilities and stop being jealous of my imagined future life, memorize and meditate on Scripture more often.
DISCIPLESHIP-- be a good example to the girls, work harder at spending more time with them and reach out more to them.
I've been saying that I am going through an identity crisis-- a quarter-life crisis, and that I don't know what I want to do with my life. That's not true. I know who I am. I'm a woman who has been saved from her sin, redeemed by grace through faith by her Savior, Jesus Christ. I was born to worship him with my life. And I want to be a fully-devoted follower of Christ.
This epiphany comes "coincidentally" on the traditional Epiphany holiday. I found that to be a funny little reminder of God's perfect timing and understated sense of humor.
I'll leave you with the verses I found in my mind last night and I've been meditating on them ever since:
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.-- Philippians 4:4-7
The requests I've brought to God are my new-found resolutions and goals. And this peace will guard my heart and mind against the following evils with which I've been struggling, sapping my strength and resolve: bitterness, complacency, selfishness, pride, jealousy, anger, and discontentment.
Many of my posts have been about my struggles, and I'm sure many more will continue along that vein. But tonight's post is a triumph, an epiphany of something God's been trying to teach me for a while. He finally got through to me, and I hope and pray you will be as encouraged as I (maybe not learning the same lesson that I've learned) by God's faithfulness to teach us, mold us, and shape us as we grow in him, and in his goodness that he guards our hearts and minds with his peace.
Have you ever had the perfect half of a simile? I have. For the past few days the above was the half of a simile I'd thought up... the only problem was I couldn't finish it. I couldn't think of anything legitimate that could complete the analogy. Until tonight, when what God was trying to teach me grew on me, slowly yet unexpectedly, like a Lady Gaga song... and now forgive the irreverent analogy. I just had to use it. So let me explain:
While I sang the memorized words, my mind numbly traveled elsewhere-- what would I wear tomorrow? All creatures of our God and King, lift up your voice and with us sing-- did I have enough Weight Watcher's points for crackers when I got home? I will worship you Lord, only you Lord...The familiar words poured out of my mouth while my heart, only having just begun to crack at its foundations, was stony and cold. My eyes glazed over as they fixed past the heads of students to the illuminated screen bearing the very same words that fell so vacantly from my mouth.
In that inexplicable way the Holy Spirit has of doing things, suddenly the words I'd been singing from memory penetrated my heart.
Take my fret
Take my fear
All I have I'm leaving here.
Be all my hopes
Be all my dreams
Be all my delights
Be my everything
It washed over me, coming slowly yet suddenly, unexpectedly. Use any metaphor you like-- the lights went on, the dam in my heart burst, it was a catalyst-- whatever. The point is, I got it. I finally got what the Holy Spirit must have been trying to communicate to my stubborn, blind heart for so long.
For the past I-don't-know-how-long, I have been fixated and focused on my unfulfilled dreams, future hopes and seemingly unattainable goals. All my dreams and hopes have distracted me from the ONE THING that is needed. They were unwittingly hedonistic, blanketed by good intentions. In my pursuit of goals (however good they may be), I abandoned my First Love. My dreams and goals in and of themselves aren't bad. But it's been off, the perspective skewed and the priorities whacked. And so no more restlessness. No more fretting. No more obsessing about what to do, where, when, and how. Now it's just God. Just pleasing Him. I have a sneaking suspicion that when my priorities are back in line, my other goals won't matter so much anymore. All the things I want to do? Who really cares. I'll do my best to redeem my time, seize the day, and live life, but my dreams aren't eternal and they have been too ME focused.
So here are some of my new goals: I want to worship God in...
WORK-- always do my best and give my best effort, keep a good attitude even when it's hard, share the gospel with more students
FREE TIME-- spend more of it in prayer, don't waste my time on foolishness, use it wisely.
SPEECH-- stop being so sarcastic, be more encouraging.
THOUGHTS-- stop thinking so much of myself, stop daydreaming so often of the future and possibilities and stop being jealous of my imagined future life, memorize and meditate on Scripture more often.
DISCIPLESHIP-- be a good example to the girls, work harder at spending more time with them and reach out more to them.
I've been saying that I am going through an identity crisis-- a quarter-life crisis, and that I don't know what I want to do with my life. That's not true. I know who I am. I'm a woman who has been saved from her sin, redeemed by grace through faith by her Savior, Jesus Christ. I was born to worship him with my life. And I want to be a fully-devoted follower of Christ.
This epiphany comes "coincidentally" on the traditional Epiphany holiday. I found that to be a funny little reminder of God's perfect timing and understated sense of humor.
I'll leave you with the verses I found in my mind last night and I've been meditating on them ever since:
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.-- Philippians 4:4-7
The requests I've brought to God are my new-found resolutions and goals. And this peace will guard my heart and mind against the following evils with which I've been struggling, sapping my strength and resolve: bitterness, complacency, selfishness, pride, jealousy, anger, and discontentment.
Many of my posts have been about my struggles, and I'm sure many more will continue along that vein. But tonight's post is a triumph, an epiphany of something God's been trying to teach me for a while. He finally got through to me, and I hope and pray you will be as encouraged as I (maybe not learning the same lesson that I've learned) by God's faithfulness to teach us, mold us, and shape us as we grow in him, and in his goodness that he guards our hearts and minds with his peace.
January 2, 2010
My Life, Now Playing at a Theater Near You...
Today I sat for a while in the relative cold outside a local Starbucks. Sipping my seasonally inappropriate passion tea lemonade, I squinted into the sunlight as I attempted to put into words what has been flitting around my head these last weeks. Some, too personal, will never be put into words. But as I sat there, this is a bit of what came to my mind.
But life isn't a rom-com. It's not even a com. It just is life. Perhaps it is my expectations of my brand of a happy ending that causes me to stop trusting God, take my eyes off Him, and place undue attention on myself and my desires and dreams. See, what's missing from rom-coms is an eternal focus. My story may not be the stuff of Hollywood, but it is a good story, because it is written by the sovereign Creator and Sustainer. I'll be satisfied with the journey until I reach the happy ending He's written. I might still create mental soundtracks though.
Sometimes I feel my life playing out like a movie-- a "rom-com" without the rom. Don't think less of me when I tell you that I even play a mental soundtrack. Most times, I am the weirdo quirky best friend who supports the leading lady and provides comic relief. Once in a while, however, I am the leading lady. I see my life in the reels of film-- as I come home to an empty apartment, as I cackle and bemoan life with my girlfriends, when I wrestle with life decisions and emotions. Only the satisfying resolution is missing; the last scenes which play out to a happy conclusion before the credits roll. That "aha" moment never comes. The leading man never comes out of nowhere with his pithy, witty charm and devilish grin. Maybe that's why I keep watching rom-coms. I love when things change for the leading lady, when things resolve, and when the music swells and the camera pans away.
November 26, 2009
Give Thanks...
I can't help it: I love old hymns, particularly ones I associate with memories of the holidays. "We Gather Together" is one such hymn that I had the pleasure of singing this past Sunday at my parents' church.
We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;He chastens and hastens His will to make known. The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing. Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.
Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining, Ordaining, maintaining His kingdom divine;So from the beginning the fight we were winning;Thou, Lord, were at our side, all glory be Thine!
We all do extol Thee, Thou Leader triumphant,And pray that Thou still our Defender will be. Let Thy congregation escape tribulation;Thy Name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!
Interesting words for a Thanksgiving hymn. There is no mention of family, meals, or anything else that the holiday typically represents. I love Thanksgiving through and through. I enjoy getting up early to make breakfast for the football players, then lounging around and watching Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I love ushering in the holiday season by viewing Miracle on 34th Street, and of course I gorge myself like everyone else on my mom's fantastic cooking, and soak up every moment of the time I get to spend with my family. Laughing, shouting, playing, eating, joking. I love this holiday. It's as great as Christmas but without the commercialization (ironically, because people jump over this holiday in order TO commercialize Christmas).
However... I think the focus of Thanksgiving (which most believe is one of the few holidays to retain its original purpose) has actually gone askew. Sure, family is important and we should be thankful for every day we have with them. But I believe the words of the song above bring the focus of Thanksgiving back 'round to where it should be: the Giver of all good gifts. After all, how can we be thankful for our families and other wonderful blessings if we don't know to whom we give thanks?
And so here are some things I'm thankful to God for this year:
The salvation of my soul
The (relative) health and life of my family members
The relationships with my family members
My friendships
My 2 new "brothers-in-law"
Employment and income
My ministry and the delightful girls I disciple
My own place
Health and becoming healthier
Good food
Clothes to wear
When you gather together to ask the Lord's blessings this Thanksgiving, please remember to give thanks to the One who gives immeasurably more than we could ask or think. Happy Thanksgiving.
We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;He chastens and hastens His will to make known. The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing. Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.
Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining, Ordaining, maintaining His kingdom divine;So from the beginning the fight we were winning;Thou, Lord, were at our side, all glory be Thine!
We all do extol Thee, Thou Leader triumphant,And pray that Thou still our Defender will be. Let Thy congregation escape tribulation;Thy Name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!
Interesting words for a Thanksgiving hymn. There is no mention of family, meals, or anything else that the holiday typically represents. I love Thanksgiving through and through. I enjoy getting up early to make breakfast for the football players, then lounging around and watching Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I love ushering in the holiday season by viewing Miracle on 34th Street, and of course I gorge myself like everyone else on my mom's fantastic cooking, and soak up every moment of the time I get to spend with my family. Laughing, shouting, playing, eating, joking. I love this holiday. It's as great as Christmas but without the commercialization (ironically, because people jump over this holiday in order TO commercialize Christmas).
However... I think the focus of Thanksgiving (which most believe is one of the few holidays to retain its original purpose) has actually gone askew. Sure, family is important and we should be thankful for every day we have with them. But I believe the words of the song above bring the focus of Thanksgiving back 'round to where it should be: the Giver of all good gifts. After all, how can we be thankful for our families and other wonderful blessings if we don't know to whom we give thanks?
And so here are some things I'm thankful to God for this year:
The salvation of my soul
The (relative) health and life of my family members
The relationships with my family members
My friendships
My 2 new "brothers-in-law"
Employment and income
My ministry and the delightful girls I disciple
My own place
Health and becoming healthier
Good food
Clothes to wear
When you gather together to ask the Lord's blessings this Thanksgiving, please remember to give thanks to the One who gives immeasurably more than we could ask or think. Happy Thanksgiving.
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