College, Knowledge, & Being on Edge. {A revised letter to my Dad}

Saturday evening my best friend & I drove to Lakeland (Southeastern University) to have a meeting with the guys who did a project just like one we’re planning.

We had an awesome time in Lakeland, I visited with an old friend from middle school for the first time in years. I had a short but inspiring conversation with a new friend, and we visited my friend's grandmother, sat with her for awhile, had a great conversation… We experienced awesome music, saw a play, heard an amazing sermon, had a community lunch... It was wonderful. And, as always, he and I had hours of deep conversation that challenged our lives.

In this conversation, the two days spent in Lakeland, and my drive home alone, the whole college thought process was weighing heavy on my mind yet again. 

What do I do? What’s the purpose? What’s my heart behind it? How do I approach it? Do I have to go?

For one of the first times ever, I was able to see the truth in the conversation I had with my Dad the other night…
He is the biggest advocate and supporter of my going to college, it's a necessity.

I have what most [at my age] don’t yet:
A maturity and wisdom that comes from experiencing life [and the world]…
A responsibility that comes from knowledge and understanding, as well as passion and brokenness…
A purpose that comes from knowing [already] what my life is to be about… my passions, my cause, my soul.
A calling to live life differently knowing what I know now. 

In this thought process, seeing college as a venue to be used for my own good – to fulfill the previously mentioned calling, purpose, responsibility – to grow those things…

As long as I stay true to them, and to who I really am;  As long as I don’t lose sight of what makes me come alive; As long as I don’t sell that part of my soul for anything: Then it’s beautiful, and an amazing opportunity that I should most certainly take advantage of [and plan to].

That’s hard, though.

Being different as I already am, it’s hard to be in a place, surrounded by many who are actively pursuing the selling of their souls, unaware of what makes them come to life, unaware of such a life at all, and be able to keep the focus of my life’s calling…

But… That’s what Jesus is for.

 

All of this nonsensical rambling to say that my Dad was right. (Which he already knew, I guess.)

But, as so often has been the case, I had to come to the conclusion on my own, even when this is what I’ve heard all along.

Thank heavens that I realized it while in search of the truth about college, as opposed to once I’d given up/lost heart, or done it half-heartedly.

Don’t expect anything drastic tomorrow.
I’m not going to start applying to Ivy League schools this week. I'm just expressing that I have grasped the importance and do plan to pursue that as my own dream, not just as an effort to please my father.

As with all things that are given and trusted to Jesus to lead and guide us, I have no idea what any of this looks like, just an understanding of the purpose and need. (That’s the first and most important step for me if I’m to take action on anything.)

Suggestions, please.

To be in a place where I can write well, I must read more.

I love everything about reading. I love knowledge for the sake of knowledge, I live to pursue truth.

I love the smell of a new book as you flip through the pages, and the first time you open the cover, pressing it back so that you can become familiar with its content. 

I need a good book to read.

For the last two years, I feel like I've only read sermon books. 

Many such books sit on my shelf now, waiting to be read. Books that will tell me about this post modern, emerging, whatever church we are experiencing: how to live it, love it, understand and change it. Books that want to tell me how to live according to The Way, talk about who Jesus is, or what living and loving Jesus should look like. (All good things.) 

I was created to be part of a story, to live, tell, and breathe it in.

I want to be invited in as the writer not only tells a story, but paints a picture of His beauty in a relatable way, making Him real, knowable, lovable. 
A story that makes me fall more in love with Jesus because I've seen a side of Him I may not have realized before. 

I read Redeeming Love (Francine Rivers) - phenomenal, loved it... Perfect example.

I also just finished The Shack (William P Young) - again, amazing example of just such a story.

Just as I come alive when I write, I am stirred and revived when I read. 

Suggestions? 

Leather, gold, and wood.

When I was a young girl, I discovered that my precious grandfather had cancer. I remembered the journey of my grandmother, her battle with cancer, and finally, the pain of losing her. I was afraid. 

There were surgeries and procedures, treatments and prayers; he was dying nonetheless.

Preparing for a last visit to his home, full of hope and courage, I came to an important conclusion. I didn't want him to go to Hell. I always knew he didn't believe in Jesus. I could not bear to think that I would never see him again.

So, I got my allowance and asked my parents if we could get him a Bible.

We bought this beautiful brown leather Bible. I opened the box and took out the Bible, running my fingers across his name written in gold letters across the front cover. Flipping through the pages, I was overwhelmed by the smell of new leather, print & paper. 

I could not wait to give it to him. It's the best present ever. 

What if there wasn't time for him to read it all?

I'd been learning the Romans Road at school, and figured it pretty important that he skip the boring parts and get straight to Jesus saving his soul. 

I wrote him a letter, carefully explaining these verses and mine and Jesus' love for him. 

I hoped and prayed that I'd get to meet my beloved Granddaddy Roy again someday in Heaven. 

I never saw or spoke to him again, and when I returned for his funeral, the Bible was returned to me by his widow. My letter was carefully folded inside the cover of the Bible, which was in pristine condition. 

I don't know if anything changed or came of that, but I do know my heart. I do know that I believed that his brokenness and the tragedies of his live could be healed and that it was not too late.

For years, I kept the Bible tucked away, letter inside, on a shelf in its' original box. Finally, I put the Bible to use & it wasn't long until the letter was lost. 

I'd love to read it today, to get a glimpse of my young faith & naive ambition, to have my young innocent words revive a passion in my soul. 

I still hope that I will see him, cowboy hat in hand, on the streets of gold one day. 

I'll run into his arms, hug him tight, take in his smell, and cry tears of joy to be his precious little girl once again.

Until then, his Bible will remain at eye level on the shelf across from my bed, as a reminder of the purpose of my life; to glorify Jesus and love His children in hopes of seeing them know Him. 

Until then, I will imagine my Granddaddy taking walks, talking with Jesus about carpentry and woodart, and admiring the beauty of His creation. 

Hate, Hope, & what lies between.

Hate devastates my heart.

Our curse is the disconnection from authentic Love. 

We're not living sacrificial lives. Everything is done self-servingly. 

Hate causes pain, pain causes hate.

It's a vicious cycle that only destroys everything in its path. 

I can't begin to grasp the pain his mom's eyes as she'll bury her beloved young man.

I can't imagine the sorrow his dad felt as he watched him go, helplessly.

I can't fathom the heartache of his brother & sister, and their lives without him.

Hate so swiftly evaporates the beauty He has created us all to be. 

I can't stand to think of how the families of the murderers must feel. Disappointment, shame, guilt, fear, unconditional love? 

I can't wrap my heart around how hurt ABBA must be to constantly see one son killing another. 

My heart breaks for the families, aches for the chaos.

My heart hopes for His perfectly healing redemptive love.

I'm so sorry that your life was cut so short. 

 
I'm so sorry for your tremendous & devastating loss. 

I hope that you can take comfort in the loving arms of your Father, as impossible as that may seem in such a time as this. 

Rest In Peace, beloved, son, brother, friend: Ethan. (You'll never be forgotten.)

The end doesn't justify the means.

Tender and genuine, He wraps His arms around me in the form of truth and beauty. 

I feel this deep sting of emotion grow inside of me and tears fill my eyes. 

 

Why does my pursuit of Him bring all the pain to the surface? 

I have an aversion to the pursuit of Him in recent days for just such reason. 

 

It's pursuit of truth. With truth comes knowledge. With knowledge and understanding comes great responsibility. 

 

He wants to bring the truth of my brokenness into light so as to redeem my broken heart and set me free. 

Freedom cannot be forced, but rather, must be embraced. 

 

My pain is not justified in His healing. 

The beauty of the healing is the end, and it doesn't justify the means. 

His healing redeems the means. (The brokenness - of my soul, my story, and my life.) 

{{{ & yours. }}}

I, Me, My & SuperWoman.

I have these dreams and hopes and aspirations.

I also have these fears and insecurities and doubts. 

I want to be a writer, but I can barely force myself to do it.

I'm desperately afraid to fail. Making me almost too afraid to try.

I have dedicated my time, resources, and life work to this cause.

I desire to see it succeed. I long to see a solution for the involuntary perpetual homelessness...

I'm afraid to fail. I'm afraid to claim it, and then mess it up.

I want to be a wife. I want to love, and love well.

I'm afraid to let anyone love me, though. I'm afraid no one will.

My heart is community. My passion is relationships. My vision is a solution. My cause is Nomsa. My reason, my inspiration, my hope, my joy, my grace, my love, is Jesus. 

I can not live in a place where fear dictates my decisions.

I want to read more, and write more. 

I want to take risks that are definitely worthwhile.

I want to love well, and live life.

I want to adventure, laugh, cry, and dream.

I want to be bold and courageous, gentle and kind. 

I cannot be SuperWoman. I can only be me. 

I can trust Him for His grace and mercy, guidance and love. 

He will provide. He will be true. 

His Love endures forever. 

"My Politics"

"Change has come alright, but can we survive it?" - facebook status of one of my friends. 

I wonder what the change in this country would look like if the church was half as worried about truly following Jesus, and living in a kingdom not of this world as they have been about making sure John McCain is our next president. 

Well, he's not. Obama won.

I've heard Christians talk about him being a muslim, the antichrist, a terrorist, etc. 

So if he's going to run our country the way so many Christians are afraid he will right now, we might actually be forced to be the true church.

Imagine, persecution for the sake of Christ. 

You stop having people who claim Him without pursuing Him at all.

You start having a community of people willing to die for Him. 

It's scary, but oh, what it would be to see a body of true believers come together and seek Him, and seek truth, and live out "His Kingdom come, His Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven..."

The idea of being really honest about my politics scares me.

The only time I've even talked about it with more than one person, I was met with a lot of hate. 

I refuse to claim a party, in the same way that I don't define myself as American... 

I can not in the same breath that I call myself a follower of Christ, claim allegiance to this country or its' president (whoever that may be.) 

I did not vote in this election. I may never vote. 

I know this infuriates many people. 

Maybe tomorrow, I will have 50 less friends on Facebook. We'll see.

I refuse to vote for someone based on a speech given.

They can say whatever they want, and I guarantee they've said what they know people want to hear. 

I refuse to vote for someone based on someone else's opinions.

It comes down to wisdom.

Reading policy and pursuing truth.

If I had the time or energy to read the policies and make that a priority, I might have voted.

But I didn't... and what research I did do...

I found it much more worth my while to pursue genuinely loving the people around me, rather than chasing something out of my control, that's going to end up being a government, a society, a country in the pursuit of nothingness anyway.

It's expected of me that I'd vote for McCain, as a Christian, because he doesn't like abortion. 

Oh, but he is in favor of war.

I'm certain that when Jesus said "love your enemies", he did not mean, "kill them".

This election has been nonsense and craziness for an entire year. 

It's all I've heard about for an entire year. It's exhausting. 

And, we'll have another entire year of it, again, in just a few short years. 

And the process will repeat itself... For the rest of my life. Yuck. 

For more on honest convictions that I support (his honesty and wise decision making) read Don Miller's Post.; Also, Jesus for President. 

(Although, I'm also certain Jesus is already King whether we embrace it or not, and that He doesn't and wouldn't want to be our President... It's still a legitimate, well written book.)

Community

I sat in a Korean church yesterday, attending a friend's baptism. He's not Korean. (Neither am I.)
I listened to them sing beautiful hymns in their heart language, praising our Precious Saviour... unified.
Authenticity dwelt in their midst.
Could it be this traditional, small church body could actually have what everyone seems to be seeking?

Community.

Has our post-modern, emergent, radical 'movement' so branded this idea of community that its' only face is that of 20 something would be hippies?

When the (way over sized) community emphasizes meeting new people when your personal network consists of 1000 people already, isn't that overwhelming?

What of 12 people bent on seeking truth?
What of building relationships rather than contacts?

Have we so loosely overused this word, community, that it's lost its' intensity? Its' truth? Its' meaning?

Oh, How He Loves Us So...

I stood in desperation last night, listening to lyrics that are still resonating...
Simply: He Loves us, Oh How He Loves Us...

Tears in my eyes, I kept saying the words, I don't know how.
Jesus, I love you.
I don't know how to accept your love.

I am challenged to live in a place of confidence. To be strong in the face of fear, making wise decisions. I am challenged to take ownership and be proud of 'accomplishments'.

I am challenged to be so bold as to call others to action based on my beliefs...
I am challenged to ask for resources to aid a cause I've deemed worthy of the dedication of my time, energy, resources, and heart.