Well, friends, another semester down (after one more final)! Now I only have one year left before I walk outta here with my Music Business degree. What I shall do with it, only time will tell...probably nothing, but at least I'll have my undergrad.
Jonathan and I are headed to Texas on the 18th, where I will scurry around doing fun and exciting bridesmaidly duties for Erin's wedding on the 22nd, then we'll have Christmas with my family on the 23rd, fly to Chicago on Christmas Eve, have Christmas with his family, play with his friends until we fly back to Texas on the 30th, spend New Years Eve in Dallas, then drive back to Nashville on the 1st! WHEW!
So that's the exciting Christmas Break plan...then onward to a 19 hour semester followed by a 6 hour summer followed by a 13 hour grand college finale. Ahh, the end is sort of in sight!
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Viktor FOUND!!! :)
After an 11-day ordeal, my beloved kitty cat, Viktor, is no longer MIA. Turns out he was close--very close--the whole time, just like all my research said he probably was.
Lindsay and I pulled into our driveway around 4pm yesterday after doing some shopping. We noticed that the neighbors three doors down were out. We were surprised to see them, because they're never out--not even their small children, who could safely play in our culdesac, but never do. They are the only neighbors in our small culdesac of about 8 houses that I have not been able to meet and talk with during Viktor's disappearance. The one time I was able to get them to answer their door, the man's brother answered and I couldn't talk to the man who lived there. Spanish speaking people, they seemed to have a limited grasp of English, which made things difficult. I was never able to search their yard or garage.
When we pulled in, the man came running over to our car, and said "I found your cat!". I was skeptical and calm; the neighborhood cat is short-haired and black, and many people have confused him for my missing long-haired black cat with a red collar (sigh). However, he went on to say "I look in my garage and I see something black, and I reach in and he is there. I put him on your porch."
I immediately asked "How long ago was this??" and he said a couple of days. "Well did he have a red collar on?" I asked. I was still not convinced this was my cat.
"He had a, a necklace, yes, I put him on your porch. He look very clean, I think someone must have him in their house and he got out and ran in my garage." the man said.
"Wait, HOW long ago was this??" I asked again--this very nice man did not seem to know his English words well. This time, the man said "About 30 minutes ago".
At this point Lindsay and I sprang into action. I was slightly pissed off that this man stuck my lost cat on my porch where he could (and very well might) just run off again for the nearest hiding spot. Also a little pissed that this guy did not take five minutes to look in his garage when I put flier after flier on all my neighbors' houses trying to get them to do so. I'm sure Viktor has just been curled up in a frightened ball in this family's garage for the past 11 days.
Lindsay ran around the back of the house--I ran up to the front porch hoping he might still be there. As soon as I stepped on the front steps and called his name, I heard a yowling noise that surely could not belong to my squeaky-meowed Viktor. I looked all around, and finally realized he had slunk off the porch and was huddled in a tight ball betwen the bushes and the corner of the house steps, eyes as big as saucers. He saw me and immediately crawled under the railing and into my arms.
He is about 3-4 pounds lighter, has a lot of matted fur, doesn't smell very nice, is sneezing a lot, and was very hungry/dehydrated, but I think he'll be okay after a few days and a flea bath. He was very happy to be back in the house, and he won't leave me alone. He's normally pretty affectionate, but now he even follows me around, literally jumps into my arms (the lap isn't good enough, he has to be held over my shoulder like when you burp a baby), felt a great need to wake me up every few hours last night, and just wants me to hold him for like ten minutes at a time while he purrs and gives me kisses!
I'm so glad to have my baby back. Thank you everyone for your prayers and encouragement! Now let's hope he recovers from this traumatic experience very soon!
Lindsay and I pulled into our driveway around 4pm yesterday after doing some shopping. We noticed that the neighbors three doors down were out. We were surprised to see them, because they're never out--not even their small children, who could safely play in our culdesac, but never do. They are the only neighbors in our small culdesac of about 8 houses that I have not been able to meet and talk with during Viktor's disappearance. The one time I was able to get them to answer their door, the man's brother answered and I couldn't talk to the man who lived there. Spanish speaking people, they seemed to have a limited grasp of English, which made things difficult. I was never able to search their yard or garage.
When we pulled in, the man came running over to our car, and said "I found your cat!". I was skeptical and calm; the neighborhood cat is short-haired and black, and many people have confused him for my missing long-haired black cat with a red collar (sigh). However, he went on to say "I look in my garage and I see something black, and I reach in and he is there. I put him on your porch."
I immediately asked "How long ago was this??" and he said a couple of days. "Well did he have a red collar on?" I asked. I was still not convinced this was my cat.
"He had a, a necklace, yes, I put him on your porch. He look very clean, I think someone must have him in their house and he got out and ran in my garage." the man said.
"Wait, HOW long ago was this??" I asked again--this very nice man did not seem to know his English words well. This time, the man said "About 30 minutes ago".
At this point Lindsay and I sprang into action. I was slightly pissed off that this man stuck my lost cat on my porch where he could (and very well might) just run off again for the nearest hiding spot. Also a little pissed that this guy did not take five minutes to look in his garage when I put flier after flier on all my neighbors' houses trying to get them to do so. I'm sure Viktor has just been curled up in a frightened ball in this family's garage for the past 11 days.
Lindsay ran around the back of the house--I ran up to the front porch hoping he might still be there. As soon as I stepped on the front steps and called his name, I heard a yowling noise that surely could not belong to my squeaky-meowed Viktor. I looked all around, and finally realized he had slunk off the porch and was huddled in a tight ball betwen the bushes and the corner of the house steps, eyes as big as saucers. He saw me and immediately crawled under the railing and into my arms.
He is about 3-4 pounds lighter, has a lot of matted fur, doesn't smell very nice, is sneezing a lot, and was very hungry/dehydrated, but I think he'll be okay after a few days and a flea bath. He was very happy to be back in the house, and he won't leave me alone. He's normally pretty affectionate, but now he even follows me around, literally jumps into my arms (the lap isn't good enough, he has to be held over my shoulder like when you burp a baby), felt a great need to wake me up every few hours last night, and just wants me to hold him for like ten minutes at a time while he purrs and gives me kisses!
I'm so glad to have my baby back. Thank you everyone for your prayers and encouragement! Now let's hope he recovers from this traumatic experience very soon!
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
"I miss my cat!" Prayer request!
Last Tuesday night (9/11), we had a fun little get-t0gether for Jonathan's birthday, at my place. For the first time since my roommates and I moved in to our new place, it was cool enough to open up the windows and turn the air off. A not so well taken care of rental, some of the house windows have screens and some do not. We opened up the ones with screens and simply cracked the ones that did not...or so I thought. Unfortunately, one window was accidentally left open, and my beloved house-cat, Viktor, escaped from it. I noticed his absence around 11pm.
Since Viktor is, as my roommate said, "like my child", I am naturally quite upset. I pretty much go to class, go to internship, and then come home and search for my kitty. I've set up 2 rented humane traps every night since Day 2 of the escape, and our front porch reeks of fish. I've crawled under neighbors' houses and through their underbrush, etc.
It's been over a week now, and hopefully he will get hungry, and braver, and come out from wherever he is hiding.
Please pray for him to be safe and for him to find his way back home or into one of my traps. And pray that I can keep a hopeful outlook, and stay positive.
Thanks, friends...it means a lot to me.
Since Viktor is, as my roommate said, "like my child", I am naturally quite upset. I pretty much go to class, go to internship, and then come home and search for my kitty. I've set up 2 rented humane traps every night since Day 2 of the escape, and our front porch reeks of fish. I've crawled under neighbors' houses and through their underbrush, etc.
It's been over a week now, and hopefully he will get hungry, and braver, and come out from wherever he is hiding.
Please pray for him to be safe and for him to find his way back home or into one of my traps. And pray that I can keep a hopeful outlook, and stay positive.
Thanks, friends...it means a lot to me.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
But For a Season
Curled up on my big, comfy green couch, my mind wanders, begging for some distraction--however small--from the hours of studying that inevitably lie ahead. All I want to do is pull a throw blanket over my body and go limp with sweet sleep. I don't even know why I'm so tired...I suppose it's just my body's way of repaying me for everything I've put it through this summer, trying to take classes and clean houses and house hunt and be a great girlfriend and a great friend-friend and somehow stay on top.
I sink back into the cushions and close my eyes, listening to Colleen McCarron singing through my laptop beside me.
"Do you ever wake up lonely and missing me, or that cool September night? 'Cause though it's been three years, I can't seem to forget you, baby, or what your kisses tasted like. So give it back to me, wasn't yours, wasn't yours for the keeping, though I gave you a piece, I am pleading, and my wounds won't stop bleeding. I just want my heart," she pleads.
I dreamed about Jonathan last night--the first Jonathan. I don't remember much of it, except that it involved "just one last kiss...just one." I can't believe it's been three years since we made the memories that still play in my mind today. There's no longer any rhyme or reason to my thoughts of him; only in my unawares does my heart still turn back in any way. I remember, even a short time ago, thinking of him every day, in complete consciousness. Bonnie once told me I may always think of my first love, until I meet the man who would be my greatest love. I always listened to Bonnie, because my God spoke so much to me through her. Time and again, her words have held true. I smile, knowing that she was right once more. My wounds have finally stopped bleeding, and my heart is finally back in the right Hands.
"Do you ever waste your thoughts on our memories? Then wish you did things differently? 'Cause though it's cliche, everything it happens for a reason, I was yours but for a season, and right now it does and doesn't feel that way. So give it back to me, wasn't yours, wasn't yours for the keeping, and though I gave you a piece, I am pleading, and my wounds won't stop bleeding. I just want my heart."
Whispers of His assurances seep into my mind as I lie there in my living room, ignoring my Microeconomic text. Last fall, He promised me that I would love again, soon, but just not today'. He reminded me that He has always been faithful to me, and would be again. Lo and behold...He was. My Love crept into my life when I wasn't looking, and didn't even want to look anymore. In fact, I'd given up on finding anyone who would match the love I felt for my first love--it seemed impossible. And yet, God has proved faithful once again. How sweet is our Lord, to give so freely and fully, while knowing we will never be able to repay him.
Oh Father, I don't deserve the love that I have in my life. I don't deserve the kindness, the selflessness, the protectiveness that You offer through him. At the same time, I don't want to continue feeling guilty for accepting the gifts that You offer me...Help me, Lord, to simply be filled with joy and love for You when I look at what my life overflows with. Help me to thank You more, to love You more, and to be humbled by Your willingness to love me in spite of all my many failings. And help me not to dwell on my failings, but to dwell on Your perfect ways. I know I am asking a lot, Father...I know that all too well. But I need You to step in and override the doubts and frustrations and insecurities in my heart. Please, Father, take them from me and replace them with Your holy touch. In Christ's name I pray, amen.
I sink back into the cushions and close my eyes, listening to Colleen McCarron singing through my laptop beside me.
"Do you ever wake up lonely and missing me, or that cool September night? 'Cause though it's been three years, I can't seem to forget you, baby, or what your kisses tasted like. So give it back to me, wasn't yours, wasn't yours for the keeping, though I gave you a piece, I am pleading, and my wounds won't stop bleeding. I just want my heart," she pleads.
I dreamed about Jonathan last night--the first Jonathan. I don't remember much of it, except that it involved "just one last kiss...just one." I can't believe it's been three years since we made the memories that still play in my mind today. There's no longer any rhyme or reason to my thoughts of him; only in my unawares does my heart still turn back in any way. I remember, even a short time ago, thinking of him every day, in complete consciousness. Bonnie once told me I may always think of my first love, until I meet the man who would be my greatest love. I always listened to Bonnie, because my God spoke so much to me through her. Time and again, her words have held true. I smile, knowing that she was right once more. My wounds have finally stopped bleeding, and my heart is finally back in the right Hands.
"Do you ever waste your thoughts on our memories? Then wish you did things differently? 'Cause though it's cliche, everything it happens for a reason, I was yours but for a season, and right now it does and doesn't feel that way. So give it back to me, wasn't yours, wasn't yours for the keeping, and though I gave you a piece, I am pleading, and my wounds won't stop bleeding. I just want my heart."
Whispers of His assurances seep into my mind as I lie there in my living room, ignoring my Microeconomic text. Last fall, He promised me that I would love again, soon, but just not today'. He reminded me that He has always been faithful to me, and would be again. Lo and behold...He was. My Love crept into my life when I wasn't looking, and didn't even want to look anymore. In fact, I'd given up on finding anyone who would match the love I felt for my first love--it seemed impossible. And yet, God has proved faithful once again. How sweet is our Lord, to give so freely and fully, while knowing we will never be able to repay him.
Oh Father, I don't deserve the love that I have in my life. I don't deserve the kindness, the selflessness, the protectiveness that You offer through him. At the same time, I don't want to continue feeling guilty for accepting the gifts that You offer me...Help me, Lord, to simply be filled with joy and love for You when I look at what my life overflows with. Help me to thank You more, to love You more, and to be humbled by Your willingness to love me in spite of all my many failings. And help me not to dwell on my failings, but to dwell on Your perfect ways. I know I am asking a lot, Father...I know that all too well. But I need You to step in and override the doubts and frustrations and insecurities in my heart. Please, Father, take them from me and replace them with Your holy touch. In Christ's name I pray, amen.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Boxes
"The best thing that could ever happen to anybody in this room, the best thing, is that your sin would be literally exposed on the five-o-clock news. Your deepest, darkest, most embarrassing sin, the one you work the hardest to hide, would be broadcast on the five-o-clock news. Best thing that could ever happen to you. Best thing that could ever happen to me. 'Cause I am so weary, I am so tired of hiding my sin from people, of deceiving people of who I really am. I just wish my sins would be exposed! I wish there were huge screens that would just show you the truth about me, all the way down to my core, in order that you would know me for who I really was, in order that I could not, that I didn't even have the option to hide from you any more. In order that I would have nothing but Jesus to grasp onto--because that's all I've got anyway." --Derek Webb, off his House album
I got to see Derek Webb live last night, for the first time. Amazing experience. I love it when you can see right through an artist's songs to their life. I was thinking earlier today about moving, since I plan on doing so in a few months (no, not far, just to a cheaper place!). It occurred to me that no matter what your new place looks like, no matter what new home you walk into and set up camp in, you have to take all of your stuff with you. You don't just leave it behind; you pack it up in boxes and carry it wherever you go. Your shit follows you. Even your mail gets forwarded--junk and all.
I think there are a lot of people in life, myself included, who have at some point been under the disillusionment that changing some aspect of their life will eliminate whatever it was before. It's the escape and replace routine. We assume that moving into a place with fresh paint on the walls will somehow keep other people from knowing we just came from a place where the wallpaper was peeling up from every corner and crease. But what if it's not other people we have to worry about hiding from? What if it's ourselves?
That, we can't really do. You're going to have to unpack those boxes sometime....you know?
I got to see Derek Webb live last night, for the first time. Amazing experience. I love it when you can see right through an artist's songs to their life. I was thinking earlier today about moving, since I plan on doing so in a few months (no, not far, just to a cheaper place!). It occurred to me that no matter what your new place looks like, no matter what new home you walk into and set up camp in, you have to take all of your stuff with you. You don't just leave it behind; you pack it up in boxes and carry it wherever you go. Your shit follows you. Even your mail gets forwarded--junk and all.
I think there are a lot of people in life, myself included, who have at some point been under the disillusionment that changing some aspect of their life will eliminate whatever it was before. It's the escape and replace routine. We assume that moving into a place with fresh paint on the walls will somehow keep other people from knowing we just came from a place where the wallpaper was peeling up from every corner and crease. But what if it's not other people we have to worry about hiding from? What if it's ourselves?
That, we can't really do. You're going to have to unpack those boxes sometime....you know?
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Simply Help
Nathan Anderson is buying a new car on Monday. Watching him do business has really made me realize I should probably take a better look at my financial state (especially after hearing him criticize himself for, quote, "spending money like a college student would"). Hmm. So, I've just been playing around on Excel for the past hour, raising both eyebrows every time a shocking number arises.
With my measly $8/hr wage (which is actually the highest base wage I've ever earned), I bring in about $585/month. My rent alone is $577, excluding all bills. Then there's water, electricity, cable/internet service (which you have to have these days for school), and speaking of school, there's school. Did I mention school? Yeah.
So, not even counting tuition/books (although let's go ahead and put that at about $9,000 a semester), I need almost $600 more than what I make each month (and that's only if I stop eating fast food, which is almost impossible for a busy college student, and limit myself to $80 of "fun" money each month). I've been floating on an extra loan I took out this semester, but I calculated that out and determined that if I keep the current budget I have, the $2,000 I have in savings will be gone within four and a half months, if that. Conclusion? I need to be making twice as much per hour as I currently am. And I need someone to pay for my tuition. (ha!)
I have a class this semester that is titled "Understanding Poverty". We have spent the better part of this semester researching the effects of having a living wage; mainly, we have focused on the Labor Union's fight against Vanderbilt University for a living wage to its employees. In Nashville, the EPI estimates a living wage (how much money the average person needs to cover basic needs including rent, bills, and food, without asking for government assistance) at about $10.13 an hour.
Funny how students, who have more to pay for than many other categories of people, somehow always get paid between $5.15/hr and $8/hr. It's so disheartening...It makes me wonder if I'll ever break even, much less be able to save for things that are important to me, like a wedding, a family, or paying off the school loans that I was forced to take (and that still aren't enough).
I find it interesting that most students are considered below the poverty line, and yet we mostly all look "middle class" ish. We are poor, and yet we live as if money were no concern. It is as though we are stuck in between two worlds, financially. We are often stuck that way emotionally and spiritually as well, anxiously waiting for 'real' lives to begin. Even our prayers seem contradict themselves.
Father, help me to untangle the mess in my thoughts. Help me to be content with today, and not worry so much about the future. Yet, help me to plan for it as much as I can. Help me to not worry about graduating, and yet help me to do well in my classes. Help me not to worry about when/where/how I begin my life with my husband, and yet remind me to pray for him every day. Help me not to sweat the small stuff, and yet help me to give thanks for every moment. Father, help me. Simply help.
With my measly $8/hr wage (which is actually the highest base wage I've ever earned), I bring in about $585/month. My rent alone is $577, excluding all bills. Then there's water, electricity, cable/internet service (which you have to have these days for school), and speaking of school, there's school. Did I mention school? Yeah.
So, not even counting tuition/books (although let's go ahead and put that at about $9,000 a semester), I need almost $600 more than what I make each month (and that's only if I stop eating fast food, which is almost impossible for a busy college student, and limit myself to $80 of "fun" money each month). I've been floating on an extra loan I took out this semester, but I calculated that out and determined that if I keep the current budget I have, the $2,000 I have in savings will be gone within four and a half months, if that. Conclusion? I need to be making twice as much per hour as I currently am. And I need someone to pay for my tuition. (ha!)
I have a class this semester that is titled "Understanding Poverty". We have spent the better part of this semester researching the effects of having a living wage; mainly, we have focused on the Labor Union's fight against Vanderbilt University for a living wage to its employees. In Nashville, the EPI estimates a living wage (how much money the average person needs to cover basic needs including rent, bills, and food, without asking for government assistance) at about $10.13 an hour.
Funny how students, who have more to pay for than many other categories of people, somehow always get paid between $5.15/hr and $8/hr. It's so disheartening...It makes me wonder if I'll ever break even, much less be able to save for things that are important to me, like a wedding, a family, or paying off the school loans that I was forced to take (and that still aren't enough).
I find it interesting that most students are considered below the poverty line, and yet we mostly all look "middle class" ish. We are poor, and yet we live as if money were no concern. It is as though we are stuck in between two worlds, financially. We are often stuck that way emotionally and spiritually as well, anxiously waiting for 'real' lives to begin. Even our prayers seem contradict themselves.
Father, help me to untangle the mess in my thoughts. Help me to be content with today, and not worry so much about the future. Yet, help me to plan for it as much as I can. Help me to not worry about graduating, and yet help me to do well in my classes. Help me not to worry about when/where/how I begin my life with my husband, and yet remind me to pray for him every day. Help me not to sweat the small stuff, and yet help me to give thanks for every moment. Father, help me. Simply help.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Catching up
People have always told me I'm very mature for my age. My own mother has mockingly called me a forty-year-old midget since I was about nine, which I have nearly always taken as a compliment. But the more I 'catch up' to my mental age, the more I realize how much I never knew, never understood about what it means to be an adult.
I've been thinking about this a lot, in terms of the relationships I have built around me in the current phase of life that I'm in. My friends, for example, are no longer just the social 'hang out' type of friends that I had in high school. My truest friends now are the ones I share more than the surface of my life with--they know the details of my heart. Not only that, but they care about the details of my heart.
I have this problem, though: I don't like people to know the details of my heart. I'm afraid of it.
I don't really know exactly what one thing spawned this whole 'anti-trust' issue, but for the past several years I have clung to it religiously, almost as if I am afraid I will drown without it. I don't really think it was just one thing...but perhaps a category of things, titled "broken promises". Those always do tend to make one a bit cautious.
It's not really fair. The people who are in my life right now have done nothing to deserve my walls, my caution...my brokenness. They have broken no promises to me, have abandoned no trust. And yet, my fight or flight risk takes over time and again when faced with someone who wants to penetrate my heart, if only to better know me and come to love me.
The Lord, He has broken no promises to me either. He has never taken a piece of my heart and returned it in a worse state than it was given. He has loved me, unconditionally, and has given me no reason to hide--and still I do. From Him, and everyone else as well.
Father, forgive me for my hesitation to let You invade every space of my heart. Your Spirit, a great cloud which used to dwell in a holy building, now resides in the hollows of my body. If You are already there, why do I fight against Your loving presence? Why do I resist the presence of my friends in my heart? Why do I run when Nate pries into my thoughts, lovingly and carefully? I have no answer, Lord, except that I am scared. Please help me to trust Your presence in me, and so learn to trust Your presence in the rest of Your children. And help them, Lord, to have patience with my brokeness. I love You.
I've been thinking about this a lot, in terms of the relationships I have built around me in the current phase of life that I'm in. My friends, for example, are no longer just the social 'hang out' type of friends that I had in high school. My truest friends now are the ones I share more than the surface of my life with--they know the details of my heart. Not only that, but they care about the details of my heart.
I have this problem, though: I don't like people to know the details of my heart. I'm afraid of it.
I don't really know exactly what one thing spawned this whole 'anti-trust' issue, but for the past several years I have clung to it religiously, almost as if I am afraid I will drown without it. I don't really think it was just one thing...but perhaps a category of things, titled "broken promises". Those always do tend to make one a bit cautious.
It's not really fair. The people who are in my life right now have done nothing to deserve my walls, my caution...my brokenness. They have broken no promises to me, have abandoned no trust. And yet, my fight or flight risk takes over time and again when faced with someone who wants to penetrate my heart, if only to better know me and come to love me.
The Lord, He has broken no promises to me either. He has never taken a piece of my heart and returned it in a worse state than it was given. He has loved me, unconditionally, and has given me no reason to hide--and still I do. From Him, and everyone else as well.
Father, forgive me for my hesitation to let You invade every space of my heart. Your Spirit, a great cloud which used to dwell in a holy building, now resides in the hollows of my body. If You are already there, why do I fight against Your loving presence? Why do I resist the presence of my friends in my heart? Why do I run when Nate pries into my thoughts, lovingly and carefully? I have no answer, Lord, except that I am scared. Please help me to trust Your presence in me, and so learn to trust Your presence in the rest of Your children. And help them, Lord, to have patience with my brokeness. I love You.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Exposure
Satan loves to disguise himself, and the Spirit loves to expose him. The Great Deceiver, as Christians often call him, looooves to take seemingly innocent, 'it happens every day' sorts of things and use them to his advantage. I've known this for a long time, but knowledge isn't the same thing as wisdom; therefore, I often look right past Satan and his schemes, seeing only my own faults and blaming myself for his dirty work.
Nathan and I recently decided to change the nature of our relationship to where God is the center of it, rather than ourselves. We had each been ignoring our faith for months, and as a result had not grown spiritually as individuals, much less as a couple. And so we agreed to take one step at a time until the Lord became the glue between us, as He should be.
This is where Satan stepped in. He promptly put fear in my heart for the first week, making me unsure as to what to do first in order to bring God into my life with Nate. The next week, Nate's grandpa died, and he was gone all week attending to funeral arrangements and family. While home, he contracted a cold from his sister and has been sick for the week and a half since.
A little fear, a family death, a common cold--innocent, everyday things, right? I no longer think it is that simple--for two weeks, I have barely seen my Nathan, and for three weeks, nothing about our shared spiritual life has changed.
It finally dawned on me, after spending days on end muttering angry comments directed mainly at myself, that it isn't entirely our fault that nothing has changed yet. Satan had our hearts for the past few months, but when we finally decided to give those same hearts back into the loving arms of our God, the evil one took every effort to keep us from taking any action towards affirming that decision. He knows that our hearts are now in the right place, and that our desire is to love the Lord. He also knows that if we spend any real time together, we'll start to share that love--the holy and pure love of the Lord--with one another. It is Satan's worst nightmare, Christians sharing Christ, and apparently he will do anything to stop us from accomplishing it.
I'm a bit frustrated, especially since I realized all of this a few days ago and have been praying against it since, to no avail. In church today, Tim said something that caught my attention immediately: "heading in the right direction does us no good without the power of God." A decision like the one Nate and I made is useless until we begin to rely on the power of our Almighty God, rather than relying on ourselves. Such a statement would make almost no sense to a non-Christian, but to me it is "the very aroma of Christ."
It is a simple truth that we who belong to the Lord must rely on Him, must trust Him, in order for our prayers to be heard and our enemies defeated before our eyes. Yes, I have turned my heart back towards the Lord after months of apathy. Yes, I have been reading in His word and learning about Him, talking about Him...But, I have not leaned on Him. I have not been witness to His power. In fact, I have not even asked Him to show it. I have not believed that He is truly in control...and for that, it is I who suffer at the hands of sin and the one who brings it.
Lord, let me be filled with belief in You, trust in You, and reliance on the power of Your Holy Spirit!
Nathan and I recently decided to change the nature of our relationship to where God is the center of it, rather than ourselves. We had each been ignoring our faith for months, and as a result had not grown spiritually as individuals, much less as a couple. And so we agreed to take one step at a time until the Lord became the glue between us, as He should be.
This is where Satan stepped in. He promptly put fear in my heart for the first week, making me unsure as to what to do first in order to bring God into my life with Nate. The next week, Nate's grandpa died, and he was gone all week attending to funeral arrangements and family. While home, he contracted a cold from his sister and has been sick for the week and a half since.
A little fear, a family death, a common cold--innocent, everyday things, right? I no longer think it is that simple--for two weeks, I have barely seen my Nathan, and for three weeks, nothing about our shared spiritual life has changed.
It finally dawned on me, after spending days on end muttering angry comments directed mainly at myself, that it isn't entirely our fault that nothing has changed yet. Satan had our hearts for the past few months, but when we finally decided to give those same hearts back into the loving arms of our God, the evil one took every effort to keep us from taking any action towards affirming that decision. He knows that our hearts are now in the right place, and that our desire is to love the Lord. He also knows that if we spend any real time together, we'll start to share that love--the holy and pure love of the Lord--with one another. It is Satan's worst nightmare, Christians sharing Christ, and apparently he will do anything to stop us from accomplishing it.
I'm a bit frustrated, especially since I realized all of this a few days ago and have been praying against it since, to no avail. In church today, Tim said something that caught my attention immediately: "heading in the right direction does us no good without the power of God." A decision like the one Nate and I made is useless until we begin to rely on the power of our Almighty God, rather than relying on ourselves. Such a statement would make almost no sense to a non-Christian, but to me it is "the very aroma of Christ."
It is a simple truth that we who belong to the Lord must rely on Him, must trust Him, in order for our prayers to be heard and our enemies defeated before our eyes. Yes, I have turned my heart back towards the Lord after months of apathy. Yes, I have been reading in His word and learning about Him, talking about Him...But, I have not leaned on Him. I have not been witness to His power. In fact, I have not even asked Him to show it. I have not believed that He is truly in control...and for that, it is I who suffer at the hands of sin and the one who brings it.
Lord, let me be filled with belief in You, trust in You, and reliance on the power of Your Holy Spirit!
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
I Slept, but My Heart Was Awake
I once prayed in deep confusion to the Lord, "Father, how much it must pain you to have to raise a fully grown young woman as a mere babe in Christ. I am nineteen, in my eyes. In yours, I am barely a year old, since that is when I gave my life to you. To see me, far past the innocence of childhood, and for You to be so determined that I should return there...How can it be done?"
I am confident that it made perfect sense to Him, however much it confused me to utter the words. (The Lord in all His infinite wisdom is never far from such prayers.) And, He had an answer....to break me.
The Lord shattered me into a million pieces through my experiences in Abilene, leaving me spent, and yearning. In my three years there, I dealt with a multitude of pains, each molding me and teaching me how to let go of the control that I have so vainly grasped at with clutching hands day after day. I left the tumult of Abilene in May, and by August had learned the simplest and most valuable lesson of my short life thus far: My heart is not my own.
One might think I would have learned this nearly eight years ago, the hour I first believed in the existence of God and His eternally lasting grace, giving Him my acknowledgment. If not then, surely I would have learned it when my face emerged from the baptismal pool, dripping with renewal and dedication three and a half years ago, giving Him my life. But my heart is more stubborn than most other parts of me, and is--regrettably--the only thing I refused to give.
Our Father does not give up until He has captured and invaded every hollow of our souls and lives. He will not settle for only your acknowledgment or dedication; He wants your heart as well. And, truly, there is a piece of each of our hearts that will remain listless and dissatisfied until we give Him what He wants. Unfortunately, it is not as simple to live out this lesson as it is to realize it.
There are moments, days, even months at a time during which I sleep. Yes, sleep. I sleep as one who lacks the strength, lacks the love to rise and face the day and its demons. I sleep as a fitful child, scared to dream of what might be better and scared to wake to what has not changed. Stuck, in the apathetic in-between, for as long as it takes for me to realize I do not belong there.
I slept, but my heart was awake. Listen! My lover is knocking: "Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one."
The heart, it never sleeps. Even when you do not hear your Lover beating against your walls, your heart hears Him. It hears the One who whispers into your sleeping soul, calling you His flawless one. God created your heart so that it would never be able to fully shut Him out once you have let Him in. He, my Love, never sleeps either.
How right they are to adore you, Oh Lord.
I am confident that it made perfect sense to Him, however much it confused me to utter the words. (The Lord in all His infinite wisdom is never far from such prayers.) And, He had an answer....to break me.
The Lord shattered me into a million pieces through my experiences in Abilene, leaving me spent, and yearning. In my three years there, I dealt with a multitude of pains, each molding me and teaching me how to let go of the control that I have so vainly grasped at with clutching hands day after day. I left the tumult of Abilene in May, and by August had learned the simplest and most valuable lesson of my short life thus far: My heart is not my own.
One might think I would have learned this nearly eight years ago, the hour I first believed in the existence of God and His eternally lasting grace, giving Him my acknowledgment. If not then, surely I would have learned it when my face emerged from the baptismal pool, dripping with renewal and dedication three and a half years ago, giving Him my life. But my heart is more stubborn than most other parts of me, and is--regrettably--the only thing I refused to give.
Our Father does not give up until He has captured and invaded every hollow of our souls and lives. He will not settle for only your acknowledgment or dedication; He wants your heart as well. And, truly, there is a piece of each of our hearts that will remain listless and dissatisfied until we give Him what He wants. Unfortunately, it is not as simple to live out this lesson as it is to realize it.
There are moments, days, even months at a time during which I sleep. Yes, sleep. I sleep as one who lacks the strength, lacks the love to rise and face the day and its demons. I sleep as a fitful child, scared to dream of what might be better and scared to wake to what has not changed. Stuck, in the apathetic in-between, for as long as it takes for me to realize I do not belong there.
I slept, but my heart was awake. Listen! My lover is knocking: "Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one."
The heart, it never sleeps. Even when you do not hear your Lover beating against your walls, your heart hears Him. It hears the One who whispers into your sleeping soul, calling you His flawless one. God created your heart so that it would never be able to fully shut Him out once you have let Him in. He, my Love, never sleeps either.
How right they are to adore you, Oh Lord.
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