...but I LOVE the rain! It rained today...I don't necessarily like how it makes my mascara run, or the way my hair frizzes, or the feeling of sitting in class when my jeans are damp...but sometimes those things don't seem to matter. Today was one of those days. I forgot about those things because it felt too fresh and invigorating. It was the kind of rain when the sky is dark dark gray and it looks so angry, then there are the bright silver streaks that appear across the sky, break apart the darkness and make the sky captivating. Then it just opens up and pours.
I recently wrote a story about how much I love the rain in my Journal and Autobiography class..(in case you are wondering, yes, that is a REAL upper div. class, with lots of reading and homework).
Rain Dancers
It was autumn and the leaves were starting to change. All the green on the Maple tree in Kendra’s front yard was consumed by reds, yellows, oranges and browns. The wind was loud and angry, beating against the house as if it wanted in. Pounding and thudding like a frantic heartbeat. It woke Kendra and me from a sleep full of childish dreams. Hungry, we crawled from her huge, fluffy white bed and snuck into the pantry. We used the step stool to reach the foods her mother kept hidden. We ate Captain Crunch and half of a Hershey’s bar for breakfast. Leaving the bowls and the foil wrapper on the table, we opened the French doors and entered into the storm outside in nothing but our pajamas. It was early in the morning and everything was sleeping except for the heavens.
The sky was a heavy gray; God must have colored the sky with a pencil and smudged it with his hands, eternal as the cloudy expanse above us. A faint pink began to appear as the sun tired to defy the thick clouds. It rose, but we never saw it. Yet, somehow it managed to warm the air enough to take the chill away from the rainless storm. Lightning began to flash over the hills in the distance. Our eyes opened wide with fear and awe as if watching the liberation of electricity was catching a glimpse of something infinite. We counted “1…2…3...” and both jumped when we heard the loud cracks and low rumbles of the air as it adjusted to the shock of the burning lightning. The sky was moaning as it healed itself.
Standing on the pavement of her driveway in our bare feet we allowed our bodies to be pushed by the wind. The maple tree dropped its colorful silks, as if it was in love with autumn and they danced like us. We were graceful ballerinas with silken movements. They would glide to the ground and we would hear them crunch beneath us and we felt the rocks poking the sensitive skin on the arch of our feet. We are part of the earth. We are made of dust. The only thing that separates us from mud or clay is the breath of God within us. The air was fresh and clear, as if exhaust from cars and factories have never polluted it. We breathed deeply and its sweetness filled our lungs and gave us life.
We waited for the rain. When it still didn’t come, we decided to make it come. Raising our voices above the gust and fits of wind and crackling thunder we composed rain. We had to start lying on her front lawn, closing our eyes and pretending we were the ocean and that the sun was not hiding, but was beating upon us. The heat caused us to evaporate, so we jumped up and lifted our hands to the sky to deliver the water vapors into the air to make raindrops. We held hands as the moisture condensed into clouds. The clouds would start to feel heavy with the weight of the rain and the pregnant clouds start to travel around the globe. We spun and spun with our eyes closed until we felt heavy. The cloud particles collide as we fall and collide with the cool, green lawn. The raindrops we produced fell and hit our expectant faces.
We laid there, dizzy and magical with the completion of the autumn storm, laughing at our secret powers to evoke the rain. Our tee shirts and pajama pants clung to us as the rain we conjured poured from the leaded sky. “We could make the rain stop…” Kendra suggested, rain trickling down her freckled face and dripping from the tips of her red hair. “But we just made it start.” For a moment we felt mighty. We smiled, knowing we enchanted the sky.
I am reading David Copperfield by Dickens for my English Novels course. It is long and so far it has only made me melancholy. It's about child/wife abusers and poor people. It's depressing. And I have to read for stupid CORE 350. Okay, CORE isn't that dumb, its about applied ethics and policy writing, which is interesting enough I suppose, but I just feel like I don't have enough time to absorb all the information being thrown at me, and how can I write an effective policy for the Bush administration about how to handle the Katrina aftermath in under 40 minutes? Seriously.
I have been reading Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, and I love it! But, theology is such a different reading experience from a narrative, like the Bible, or a novel or fiction. Every sentence is thick and requires total comprehension. In a novel, the reader approaches it and has a personal experience with it. They fall in love with characters, or hate them, they interact and form something of a relationship with those they read about on the pages. This is why I get mad when Mr. Murderstone beats Davy, and terrifies Davy's mother, then sends him away to a school where he and a bunch of other boys are beat...and Davy is only 8 or 9 years old! I feel attachments and emotions to these people. In reading theology, I still have emotional reactions to what I am reading. Reading about the theology of the cross and will almost always make me cry. Because I am reading about my Jesus...but at the same time, theology is so intellectual, and I feel like a child attending classes in advanced graduate studies. There is good and bad theology, sadly, a lot of the latter. One wrong word can be heretical. Yet, theology is such an important aspect of faith. We have to be careful not to misinterpret intellectual interest with faith, faith comes in living out the knowledge good theology presents us with. We are called to love the Lord with our mind. He gave us a free will and an intellect to use it to know and love him! I love reading theology, I love attending the lectures, and having discussions about it...but I feel like what captures me the most are so elementary. I think it is dumb to say you can't study theology because you need to protect the mystery of God, the mystery of God can still be protected, but unless you know good theology, you don't know when you are being lied to, or you are are buying into something false and deceptive. The Nicene Creed and the Definition of Chalcedon were created to protect the mystery and the truth of the Scriptures. Reading theology for me is somewhat a sacrifice of praise, because I have to train my mind to read and process in a different way than normal. I struggle through it, I try to be objective, and ask questions and follow the theological language and who these people are from the 4th century with crazy names from obscure places...and I do it because I know the value of the scholarship.
I love reading...hence the Literature major and three bookcases full of books. It's enlightening, it's powerful, it's a gift. The fact the God gave us the Bible, to know him, he revealed Himself through the person of Jesus Christ who is given witness in the words on the pages of the Bible. We can know God better by knowing the Scriptures. It amazes me, the ways we take such great blessings for granted. A book can change peoples lives, forever. Words on a page can jump out and come alive in different ways in the different circumstances of our lives. I can read the same scripture verse every day, and it's new each time. Like the Lord gives me something fresh each day. How can such a book just sit on a shelf? How can such a book get dusty under someones bed? How can such a book be mocked when people decide to deem part of it true and part of it not. The Bible is a book of TRUTH and theology begins with the revelation and voice of God.
So, on that note, I think I shall go read, it's going to be a late night...and early morning. To make this night more lovely, I am making tea, I am curled up on the couch in my favorite pajamas and in the most comfortale blanket ever and I am going to indulge in the luxury of reading :)
I work in a restaurant where people spend $600 for dinner and I am barely scraping by. I was scheduled to work 10-4 today, the first Saturday in a month I am not working a double. I had so many exciting plans for tonight and I was really looking forward to today. Yesterday I got a call at 5 in the evening after I got out of classes and the assistant manager changed my shift for today. She told me she didn’t need me in the morning, but I had to come in from 4-10 because the person who was scheduled to work requested the day off. So, I cancelled all my plans, got up crazy early this morning, went to Starbucks to study, ran a few errands, put $50 of gas in my car (since my car guzzles gas and it is $50/week) then I went to work…I showed up, then the girl who “requested the day off” showed up too. She worked that morning…my manager laughed as she admitted she messed up the schedule, she got names mixed up. She told me about her rich boyfriend, then a half hour after I got to work; she said they didn’t need me, the girl who “requested the day off” stayed for the shift. Now I don’t work tomorrow, Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, then I leave for a week and a half to visit my fiancé in Virginia…with $12 in my checking account…and a pathetic savings account. I am getting married and moving across the country, trying to pay off school debt, then back to school (for both of us)… I feel like I am drowning. I am worrying. And, I have decided I don’t like money. I don’t like that almost everything requires money to be spent. Although I don’t have a lot of money, I still struggle with not making it some kind of an idol in my life because I utilize so much energy worrying about it, and if I were a better steward of my money it wouldn’t be such an icky subject. I feel insecure, so I buy clothes from Nordstrom because it makes me feel pretty. I love Starbucks coffee and make-up. Why? It makes me feel beautiful and valuable, but the outside doesn’t ultimately matter. I want to be a woman of beautiful character…
“A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life. She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands. She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar. She gets up while it is still dark; she provides food for her family and portions for her servant girls. She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night. In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers. She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy. When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet. She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple. Her husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land. She makes linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes. She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:"Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all. Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. Give her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.” Proverbs 31:10-31
I am getting married in less than 5 months. I am so concerned about looking perfect that I am forgetting what is most important, cultivating my heart! Ever since I got sick, I have become strangely obsessed with how I look. I was insecure before, but there is a deeper level to this insecurity. It was just my body that had all those surgeries, it was my body that was sick, but all of me felt the effects. All of me got sick in a sense. I see myself as ugly, not just my scars, but me. I want to badly to feel beautiful and be beautiful. And somehow spending money is one of those short-term “you know it will only be dissatisfying in the end” thrills. For a moment it makes me feel like I am worth something. And this is so wrong. I am serving the wrong master and it is making me crazy!
You know, sometimes I hate growing up. I want to be 5 again. To spend my days finger painting, looking at clouds, skipping instead of driving and picking wildflowers. I want to go to bed and not just because it’s 4am and I really should get a few hours of sleep before class. I want to wake up early and have energy and look forward to play dates and eating cinnamon rolls for breakfast and not worrying about how many calories are in the frosting. To not doubt, and to not know that people do bad things sometimes. I want to be able to appreciate butterflies and the funny way that bugs crawl. I want to look in the mirror and smile when I see beauty. I don’t want to think about responsibilities, insecurities, taxes, paychecks, getting to work on time, loans and “the future.”
But, then I think about all the good things that come with growing up, my life now always trumps nostalgia. I love the ways God has worked in me and reveled himself to me. The powerful ways He has reached into my life and changed me and continues to change me. I love my amazing fiancé who is a wonderful man of God and I love that I see him in a week. I love my dear family and friend who have supported me through valleys and mountains. I love college, I love my classes, I love I can read wonderful books and study literature. I love the tastes and opinions I have developed. Being an adult is actually quite magnificent…I can still finger paint, look at how pretty the clouds look in the sky...
I just need to get my priorities straight and remember who I am in Christ. God is God over my WHOLE life, I need to place everything I have in his hands because all things belong to him anyway, and let him rule in and over my life, he will provide and I will have enough.
"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? "And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Matthew 6:25-34
I will have enough and I need to remember that the goal is to be rich in character.
(But…money still makes me grumpy)
It is stuffy in my room. The air is thick and warm, like when you are wrapped up in a blanket in front of a fireplace, content and lazy. The rain is pounding against my window unabashedly, splashing through the screen onto my face. It is beautiful. It smells so fresh and lively, I have missed spring. It is dark except for the faint glow of streetlights and silent except for the bellowing wind. God is powerful. It is beautiful how creation worships him fiercely and without reserve. I want that passion. I want to burn for God, to radiate His love and reflect His heart. The violent turbulence of a storm makes me appreciate the utopian peace afterwards.
There are raging storms that affect us, whether we get caught without a jacket, or, like me, your screen-less window get stuck open and rain pours in onto your bed, either way, the storm will affect you. You will get soaked, upset, anxious…but, that intensity makes the tranquility more vibrant. I tend to live my live with silent expectations of peace. Even though I pessimistically prepare for the worst, somehow it always seems to surprise me. I often feel that Jesus is sleeping as I am trying frantically to keep the boat from sinking to the depths of the sea by my own power. He told me to go across, not around, the center of the sea. Not any sea, the Sea of Galilee, where it is common knowledge that at the bottom of this sea lays an abyss where if you sink, your soul will be sucked into a place like hell. I find myself here, caught in the middle and Jesus is resting in the back of the boat, “Then He [Jesus] arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm” (Mark 4:39). At this point Jesus was on his way with the disciples to rescue the Gentiles on the other side. There is little question in my mind that the powers of darkness created the storm. Just as Jesus rebuked the demons from people, he rebuked the waves. As people we saw Jesus rise up and calm the waters, they were amazed, “Who is this man, that even the water obeys him?” Yet, I doubted him. I am she, of so little faith. When the waves crashed over the sides of the boat, I turned to myself to save the ship, asking why Jesus is silent, why he is resting. But his purposes are greater than the silence. His infinite thoughts loom on the other side of his silence. When that quiet is broken, he reveals himself as savior. Without these storms, there is no gratitude for the peace that follows…without sin, there is no need for forgiveness…without ugliness, there isn’t any sense of beauty.
I love it when God rebukes the waves, but sometimes He doesn't remove the storm.
Recently I have been studying about the early Christian servant named Stephen. (Acts 6:1-8:8) Stephen was not described as a weak, faithless person, but as a strong Christian with faith, wisdom, and spiritual power. In the midst of persecution, the way that he handled the storm became a witness and an inspiration to others. God's anointing on his life did not result in deliverance from the storm — except in the ultimate way; through death. This is sometimes hard for us to accept, but God allows the storm in our lives for his glory. The key focus, however, is the witness of Stephen's life: “Now Stephen, a man full of God's grace and power, did great wonders and miraculous signs among the people... All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel… they all rushed at him, dragged him out of the city and began to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul. While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." Then he fell on his knees and cried out, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them." When he had said this, he fell asleep.” (Acts 6:8, 6:15, 7:57-60)
The way Stephen kept his eyes on Jesus in this storm was a testimony of faith to Saul — who at this point was persecuting Christians, but would later become the great missionary to the Gentiles telling the Good News of Christ.
The way that we demonstrate the fruit of the Spirit in difficult times today can also be a most powerful witness to those around us. Anyone can be joyful and peaceful when things are going well, but it is supernatural to have love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control when you are in the middle of one of life's raging storms. (Galatians 5:22-23)
Satan is a roaring lion, seeking for victims to devour (1Peter 5:8). He creates havoc in our lives by whispering lies: “Did the Lord really say that?” “You know you can never be forgiven for doing a thing like that” “Well, the Bible doesn’t say that is a sin.” Satan knows our insecurities, our boiling points and the grudges we bitterly cling to, and when he gets a foothold, the storm rages! Or sometimes, bad things just happen, and we cannot understand why, “what I feared has come upon me; what I dread has happened to me, I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only troubles” (Job 3:25-26). The word for turmoil means “commotion, restlessness, excitement, rage” and the same word that is used for the “rage of thunder” in Job 37:2. When our lives lack peace, we are at the center of the Sea of Galilee in a terrible storm. Fear makes our hearts thud and our stomach sink like a rock, past memories flood our minds and haunt us…we recognize we are completely out of control. Not all storms affect us physically like Stephen or Job, but they are emotional, spiritual and psychological.
Yet, there is freedom.
“For he (Jesus Christ) himself is our peace who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by abolishing in his flesh the law with its commandments and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new man out of the two, thus making peace, and in this one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit.” Ephesians 2:14-18.
Jesus came so we may live in his perfect peace, whether the storm continues to rage or he has already rebuked the waves to silence.
My life in some ways has feet stormy lately. I began to see my scar as ugly, myself as hideous, my past unforgivable, my heart as unlovable, my mind as unredeemable…I projected my fears into the future and worried what if the doctors are right and I can’t have children…what if I can’t get into grad school…what if, what if, what if…and I drove myself to the middle of Galilee! I began to pity myself because my fiancé lives 3,000 miles away. IHe can’t hug me when I cry, I can’t hold his hand in prayer, he can’t whisper in my ear he loves me, I can’t touch him or kiss him. We have been engaged for nearly two years, separated for nearly two years by the entirely of the unites states, then I get jealous of those who got engaged later and will be (or are) married earlier, I LACK PEACE. Then I remember what Christ did so I don’t have to live in this anxiety or sadness,. I can thrive and flourish in HIS peace that HE has given me! I rest in his promises, his countless blessings, his agape love and his perfection.
“The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. Psalm 18:2
When you find yourself in a storm, by all means pray that the Lord will remove it; If He doesn't, pray that you will be a witness to those around you as the rain hits your face and the waves pummel you. Don’t be a fair weather Christian (“so because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth” Revelation 3:16). In the midst of a storm, PRAY that God will be glorified!
"Praise You in the Storm"
I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still rainingAs the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes awayAnd I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this stormI remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can't find YouBut as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes awayI lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
Wow, this entry reminds me so much of how I feel right now. I have to tell you... I feel... read more
on Money makes me grumpy