Parking

I was thinking about parking today. And how, in America, we are so determined to get the closest possible parking spot. Instead of searching until we find one, we will circle the same area until something opens up. I remember discussing the parking problem at the community college I attended and how it was always impossible to find a parking spot.

I remember someone chiming in that we don’t have a parking problem, we have a walking problem. There were plenty of parking spots if students were just willing to walk a little farther. Of course treading through three feet of snow is not the most fun means of transportation, but her statement made me think of how we are with God.

Christians treat finding God like finding a parking spot.

We don’t look for him. Sure we scan our surroundings, but we don’t really search. I mean full out-abandon ourselves and desires-search for him. We have a walking problem.

We don’t want to find God, we want Him to show up. And if we don’t see Him right away we will circle the same area, try the same approach, waiting for something to open up. But what if we abandoned our laziness and selfish desires and full on Searched for Him? Instead of driving around waiting for Him to show up, why don’t we park our selfish desires and get out of ourselves and walk to him?

In the story of the prodigal son the father ran to him to welcome him home. He was waiting for the son, pacing in anticipation of the return He was certain would happen. He saw him coming and ran to him. But first, the son walked. He left his rebellion. He didn’t wait until he had it perfect. He just came to the realization that he was nothing without His father, and with Him he may still be a rebellious, flawed human being, but he would be better off. So he left; he searched; he walked.

Questions

Here's to a blog that is made up of little to no followers being the only way for a person of the highest level of frustrations, yet equal privacy to vent.

I have a question. One, which I am certain, I actually know the answer to, yet for some reason, feel still compelled for someone to share it with me. Perhaps though, interestingly enough, that is exactly the thing which I do not want. Enough with melodrama, the question:

Is it okay, even right, to at some point stop being right. I don't mean right, rather good, though in many contexts that is not what I mean either. Is there something to giving up. To no longer be the best version of yourself. To no longer try. And when that force that lives to come against you whirls in, you cave. Giving it exactly what it wishes to take, you. Is that ever okay? To give in and just walk away. To no longer fight and actually become the wrongful accusations passed against you that you can no longer handle. Your tough exterior that no longer exists is not there to block you and all of a sudden you find yourself lost in a battle, that, wish as you might, you cannot walk away from without walking away from yourself. So there's my question: is it okay to become what you hate and fight against daily, in order to survive.

Maybe asking a world that isn't listening is not the best way to go about this. Especially with no idea what the situation which compels the question is. But even if I did fill in the tedious details you, whomever you are, would be just as lost as I at finding the solution to the equation. Mine is a fight that is as old as the age of man.  One that philosophers, psychologists, anyone, could and have studied, yet the answer remains a mystery and unique to each situation, if one does indeed exist. Which only brings about more questions to think on. Is there an answer? Is it worth fighting for. Will I someday deeply regret the actions that I am taking, or will I suffer instead everyday wondering if there is ever peace from your enemies.

Oh to hate the one you love, is there worse a curse than this?

Do I choose survival or to live.

You stare at me like I hate you, but you break me every time we talk.

Does it matter if there is an answer after all? Why is survival without life and honestly, what is life without working your best to better everyone around you. But there comes a point where you have to choose. It is no longer a matter of giving yourself the oxygen first, so then you can help others. It is not who gets it first, but who gets it. Doing the right thing in this case is right, even though it feels so wrong. The poetic justice of life and our ever sinful natures right?

Leap

Are we just dancing around the inevitable or afraid to take the lead
I don't want to put my heart out there just in case it bleeds
I wish that I could say I feel safely incomplete
But without you by my side I just feel in need
I guess I just have to leap, Pretend it is all alright But I'm afraid the dark of darks is better than the night
But I'm guessing that this leap of faith will turn out better than the rest
All of which I can't complain, have been better than the best.

Smile Away

It’s funny to me that we think we are supposed to be happy all the time. By we I mean Christians. Joy is not always portrayed through a smile. But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. I shall explain.

I have grown up going to church and to be honest with you, I am not all that fond of the practice. Because that is exactly what it appears to be: Practice. Practice at being happy, good, nice. The problem is there is an unfortunate lack of follow through in times that are not practice.

This, however interesting it may be, is merely foundational to my point and not the point itself. Thus we move on.

I have worked so hard for so many years to be everything that the church is not. I don’t want to be the quiet one who meekly agrees to anything, pretending that an opinion is something I do not possess. While, I will admit, I may have gone too far to the other side, expressing my opinion at every opportunity, I have since corrected my behavior and can now actually do something I disagree with without expressing such an opinion. That said I will move on to what I set out to share.

The question: how do we expect to portray a God of truth if all we offer are fake smiles and pleasant facades?

My point in saying that I grew up in church was not to criticize it. It was simply this: to portray that I have never been expected to sit back opinionless, with no say and slap a shiny smile on my face to tell the world that everything is okay! But I have recently found myself in situations that expect just that. Not from everyone, but one is enough.

I can’t help but feel repulsed by the hypocrisy of such an expectation. Did Jesus always smile? It’s a simple enough question, the answer almost equally as simple to find.

John 11:35 “Jesus wept.”

Matthew 21: 12 “Jesus entered the temple courts and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves.”

I doubt that in any of these scenarios Jesus had a ridiculous smile on his face.

My problem is this: if we claim to be living a life that is portraying Jesus, than should we not do that and do it accurately and whole heartedly?

Luke 22:42 “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”

Do you think Jesus didn’t have his own opinions? He continuously argues with the religious leaders of the time, the Pharisees and Sadducees.

Did He have the right only because of who He is to express His opinion? Perhaps it is different than disagreeing with the way things are done in life or simply presenting an easier alternative, but does that make it wrong to do such things?

Hardly. If we were meant to figure everything out for ourselves, meant to be in charge with no need for help as so many people seem to strive to be, meant to control, than why did God not just make Adam and call it good because there is no need for anyone else if we are that self-sufficient.

There is nothing wrong with having an opinion. Let me say it again just in case it hasn’t quite sank in yet. There is nothing wrong with having an opinion. I am really glad I finally let that out. Revelation one: complete.

Revelation two: You can be joyful without smiling. You can even be joyful without being happy.

When I look at disease, poverty and orphaned children I am not happy. A smile is the farthest thing from me. Yet, I am still undoubtedly filled with the Joy of a God who loves me. Filled with Joy at my opportunity to live on this earth. Filled with Joy at the chance to make a difference in this world. I don’t need to smile to show the world that I’m joyful.

When presented with the thought of a constant smile playing my face I encounter the thought of performing. When on stage, unless you are supposed to be conveying a specific emotion, you are Always supposed to smile. Come mess up, fatigue or pain that smile remains painted across your face and you don’t even flinch. Annoying enough for the stage, but who would really want to live like that: a constant performance. Exhausting does not even begin to describe the feeling.

Please do not misunderstand my plea for honesty to mean that we should mope around, throw fits or constantly argue that we know the best. The only result I hope for, I pray pleadingly for, is this: that people will actually tell the truth. Not cover it up in some sugar coated reality just because they are a Christian and think that everything in their life is supposed to be going well.

We all have days where we just want to turn over when we wake up and go back to the peaceful illusions that accompanied us in our sleep. We all have moments that we just need to breathe without the stress of explaining anything. And we all have moments where we wish we could just throw our own version of a child’s fit, however that looks to us (I have no doubt you have the self-control to stop yourself but don’t tell me you don’t have the impulse).

I don’t think that we need to always speak our mind, nor that we should ever do so rudely. But I do think that we should be real enough to tell it like it is. I am tired of plastic faces and masks to painted on that the people wearing them have forgotten they are not actually their faces. I wonder sometimes if they even remember what they really look like. I don’t want to be that way.

I serve a God that is real. A God that loves and made me wonderfully full of emotions. Not to be a roller coaster of ups and downs but a real human being with a real heart, a real personality and some really REAl flaws.

That’s who I am a flawed human. Saved by grace. Welcomed into the arms of a loving Father. Equipped to do the will of God without grumbling but still perfectly myself and not afraid to offer my opinion when the time comes.

The point of Christianity is to follow a God that loves His children so deeply that He sacrificed everything for them. Our part is to show the world love and truth and hope. Fake smiles and pretending that we don’t hurt to a world that is so broken goes against everything that we hope to show. It is in itself a shadow that we cast over the light that we are hoping to show.

All I propose is this: That instead of faking our way through life and showing the world what we look like on stage, we show them our scars. All the things that hurt us. How we fail and fall down and break and show them how it is that we climb back up from the dust. How we heal and continue on with the cuts and bruises still so fresh and raw. That we show the world the love that heals us and continues to heal us every day even through the pain that we seem so afraid to show is there.

That’s all I want to see. The truth. Just a glimpse of reality. And maybe eventually that glimpse will grow into a steady stream of light until we are completely engulfed in the light of the truth.

Strength

Strength. It’s an interesting thing that sometimes doesn’t make sense in the way that we want it to. At least not the way that I want it to. In my eyes I have always been strong. Honestly, that has been the expectation from everyone around me as well. So whatever happened I put on a tough exterior and played it off as though nothing was wrong. Insult by insult, brick by brick, I built walls so high that there was no way for me to climb out of them. And so I settled in. Into the lies that held me down. Into the charade that I didn’t feel a thing. Until eventually, I didn’t.

You see, I was so afraid of being found weak that I allowed the hurt to break me in silence, while I pretended that nothing ever affected me. As the years built upon each other it became easier and easier to block myself in but not without a price. In order for nothing to affect me, nothing could affect me. Gone were the emotions that made me sensitive, passionate and caring. Gone were the feelings for anything or anyone.

I was in sleep mode. Hibernating through my life, not only forgetting to connect with anyone but to experience anything. Instead of trying I would sit back and wait. In lieu of interacting I would observe. And after the pain was no longer masked on the inside but subsided, I found myself a shell of a person with no one around.

No one knew me because I had forgotten myself.

My own desires lay to the side because I was so afraid of failing that I wouldn’t even try.

Empty. Alone. Broken. Into pieces that no longer fit together. That was my life.

I was a puzzle that not even I could solve.

The process of breaking down the walls was a long and bumpy ride. It was one that involved many people, experiences and a lot of healing hurts I hadn’t even realized existed.

The walls fell slowly at first. Layer by layer they were removed until the maze no longer existed. And quite suddenly I found myself free. But freedom is a new concept for me.

To me the lack of walls has left me exposed, sensitive and vulnerable.

I am sure there are many sensitive people and hearts in the world. I am also sure that there are ways to protect you without isolating yourself behind walls of protection.

The problem for me is that I have been so long inside the safety of walls that I have no idea how to react without reconstructing what was there before.

Here comes the question for strength.

Can I be strong without being so guarded that it at least seems as though nothing can move beyond my tough exterior?

Can I protect myself without hurting others and completely pushing them away?

Can I be strong and still break?

You see I am so afraid of pain, especially public pain, that I just don’t know how to take a risk.

Is there strength in allowing yourself to be broken? Is there strength in being able to pick up the pieces and reconstruct a new heart; a new joy? Of course? But is there a way to avoid the pain without being forever alone inside a house with only walls?

Can I break and still be whole? But do I have to break?

Can I, instead of guarding myself away, and instead of making myself completely open to pain, guard my heart?

Is there another way to protect myself that does not also hurt me in the future?

Can strength manifest itself in a different way than the one that I am used to? Is there something more outside of my comfort zone?

I feel as though I am simply repeating questions and that is probably because I am. And that is because I am afraid of the answer.

And perhaps this is a moment of humility; an opportunity to find strength in a new way.

But that brings us back to the question: what is strength?

Is it being so tough that nothing shakes you? Or is it being able to pick yourself up when something breaks you?

Maybe I should just let go. Of the control, of the securities; of the safety net that I surround myself with. Maybe then I will discover that strength is trust; the ability to stand in a situation without fleeing at the first sign of turmoil.

Not trust in myself though and my own ability to survive but trust in a God that will carry my heart in safety.

So what happens if I give my heart to God, wholly and completely?

Psalm 28:7 says “The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me.”

The promise is there, the question is whether I will act on it and trust in his help.

Can I truly surrender all and give him complete control? Or will I allow the fear of failure, the fear of myself, stand in the way of living life in the fullest, most perfect way possible?

I think it is time I take a leap of faith and honestly give God the rights to my heart. No holding back if he lays something on it and no giving it away to anything myself.

Strength comes when I rely entirely on him. Only in making myself weak can I truly rely on the strength of the Lord. As new of an experience as that is for me I think that it is the only true, reliable strength there is.

Collect

There is a war within myself
A war between heart and mind

Where I fall away from the soul that is in me
Look back
Erase the past
Move away from all the thinking
That causes stumbling in the sand that pretends it understands

There is a hope within my grasp
The soul that reaches deep within me

I cannot walk away from the light

But the light I see in you is not for me to catch

The light within myself to put to rest

I hold onto the hope that rises up within me.

The peace I need

To which I cling so that I can contain

These things within my heart that my mind rejects

The war within myself I can expect

To fail loudly as myself I do collect.

Unmasked Beauty

This last Sunday we performed a showcase of some of our dances in Hilo. The shows went well and our mini, practice outreach was a great experience. I learned that love, grace, patience and growth will be a huge aspect of our actual outreach. But the most valuable lesson I learned was not from the performance, it was from the preparation.

You see to perform on stage you have to wear stage make-up. And what I learned this past weekend was about that very thing.

I have been dancing since the age of four and am quite accustomed to be forced to pile on make-up in order that I may be visible to the audience and all other members of outer space (all right so I am joking, but only a little). The thing about Hilo is, it was the first time I had ever applied stage make-up myself. Always, some other wonderful soul and volunteered to complete the horrendous task of masking me.

And you see that is exactly what I realized it was: a mask.

After completing my make-up (with help because I suck at putting on a ton and a half of make-up), I looked in the mirror and was truly disgusted and shamed at what I saw.

I looked ugly.

Don’t get me wrong I do not think I am the most beautiful woman to have ever lived. I l am not even sure that there is such a thing but my point is I am not conceited. I do, however, find myself a perfectly well looking human being.

But not on Sunday. No. Come time to ready myself for the stage and looking in the mirror for one last glance I was horrified at what I saw.

For the first time in my life, I thought that I was truly a completely unattractive human being. Not only plain looking, but truly ugly.

Though I was reassured I was not (Thank you Madeleine it helped quite a bit), I still felt as though I looked terrible.

While I must admit my self-outlook improved throughout the day, I was a little down on myself.

After our dancing was finished and I was done with my fraud appearance, I hurried to remove the layers of mask that plagued my skin.

As I washed away the last of my make-up and rinsed my face, I glanced in the mirror.

I was so relieved and grateful to find my actual face staring back at me.

What this moment taught me was so much more than a lesson of beauty and make-up application.

Here is what I realized and how it looked:

I realized that we do the same things in our own lives.

My whole life I have lived as though on a stage, with a need to be presentable and perfectly visible to my assumed audience.

The perfect layers that I surrounded myself in over the years reminded me so much of the make-up slathered across my face to create an illusion of perfection.

As I displayed strength, it turned to obstinacy. Independence to rebellion. And high standards to judgementalism. I was the worst hypocrite of them all and I hate hypocrisy.

What had been intended as a perfect mask, to look as though I had it all together; all figured out. Displayed as though my life was in perfect view of everyone and I was the intended golden example. It had turned into a destructive mask that took away from who I really was and all that I had hoped to portray.

So often I think we see ourselves as followers of Jesus and get caught up in this lie that we are supposed to be perfect. That we are such a holy example that if we fall, all the world around us is watching and they will fail.

Don’t get me wrong we should be good examples.

What we shouldn’t be is liars.

You see I had wrapped myself up so perfectly to show myself beautiful but had in the process made a mess of ugliness, so far from beauty that I wasn’t even recognizable.

I distanced myself. From family, friends, my emotions. Trapping myself in my mind, I failed to live up to the full potential that God had placed within me.

I realized then that God was the make-up remover. As I worked to make myself up. Up to the standards of the church. Up to the expectations of family and friends. Up to the bar of society. Up, up, up.

I was only making up what I was: who I was, how I was. Wrapping myself in lies of comfort; illusions of perfection I failed to paint a picture of true beauty and instead hid from the world the design that God had for me.

You see, God wants to use our brokenness. He wants to heal our broken hearts but he wants to use our journey from pieces to peace, to tell the world of His glory, His beauty and His grace.

What happens when we hide these trials and instead seek to appear perfect and wonderful, is that God can’t use the brokenness if we refuse to admit that it was ever there.

As I wiped away the layers of filth and lies, to reveal the hidden scars from past mistakes, regrets and sins, I found that I was truly beautiful in God, inside and out.