meandering

There are still some forests that I haven't known.

Some

Tree trunks I've never wrapped my legs around and climbed.
A million branches I might have slid down
Had I had the time.

Still

Some leaves trembled in the wood and caught my ear
Some twigs beneath the hooves of deer snapped

and signaled spring.

Waking me from the endless winter thoughts.

( Rod McKuen )

yaweh elokeynu

I had forgotten that You are not bound and immobile. I didn't remember that You love making new highways. I never understood what "the foolishness of God" meant. You never told me "Why" before. You usually told me "What" before. I have never been unable to trust my own ears when You've told me something; I have rarely asked for others' prayer. All the things I did before were things that brought me praise in Christian circles -- accepted, tried, true, proven. I have never done something that I couldn't find a Biblical or Christian Folklore example for.

I've been the type of Christian that gets admired and petted and feted, that everyone wants to be like and no one wants to live like or pray like or weep like or be torn in pieces like. I was proud of that, wasn't I?

Then You said "Don't feel bound by other people's expectations or even what you have wanted and expected for yourself." Now, my world is topsy-turvy. All I can understand is that I desperately need to keep with You, because nothing else has held. I've realized that my foundation wasn't You, it was the things I'd learned ABOUT You, the things I knew about what You've done BEFORE. That is shattered now - not because it was faulty or untrue, but because nearly three years ago (when I did not understand) You told me "Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. Look and see, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up - do you not perceive it?" ( Isaiah 43 ) As I look back, I realize how almost laughably accurate Your timing is. Now, You have told me to listen to You for direction for each moment. Now, You are doing something I do not understand, something I am deeply afraid of and have an incredible longing for.

Father, I don't have the strength or wisdom or courage or self control or experience or love or persistence or willingness or obedience to do this. I don't even know what "this" is. Hold me tight. Be loud for me. Remember me according to Your love. Make of me what You want. Do with me what You want. Live in and out of and through me.

the sky resembles a backlit canopy .... with holes punched in it

Round and round, we dance in circles
Hindsight’s twenty-twenty
Your erasures, my concerns
A smile, pull me back

Rings of silver, never gold
Who’d want it, anyway?
Language, lovers, friends, apart
Six 22 affairs– why, love?

No one’s like you
I’m back where I started
Different endings in your eyes
“Not what you expected”

He tells me “as not having”
You talk to me of “friends”
They think you care for me
I toss my head and spin

-------

Oh, Father, I'm glad. I don't know what's going on or where this will end, but, oh! Father, I want to kiss Your face and hug You tight. I want to dance (and I can't dance!); I want to twirl. I have climbed trees. I want to stay in this delirious happiness for a while, but, Father, even while I'm here build joy into me. Build permanency into me.

Remember me according to Your love. Keep me walking with You; smile at the things I do and want. My crazy, mixed up head is happy, Father, and You've told me that I'm headed the right way. I have no idea where this is going, but I want You most of all. I've climbed trees and mountains; I've seen a smile that's in his eyes again (and I never thought I would); the semester's nearly over; I'm going home.

Spin with me, Lord! Be loud for me. I need to hear You clearly. Oh! Father, make me want what You want - make surrendering to Your will a soul-shocking pleasure. Be pleased with me.

And thank You.

bat eloheynu

"Something close to your heart - something that doesn't fit in with people's expectations ... you know, somewhere deep inside you, what He wants you to do. Get past all the distractions and quiet all the clutter, and you'll know."

"I would say to you: don't be afraid. Don't feel bound by other people's expectations or even what you have wanted and expected for yourself."

"A well, surrounded by stones and covered. Inside was pure, sweet water, but that wasn't all. Water was pouring into the well, filling it up."

-------

( I Cor 7:29-31 )
HAVE AS NOT HAVING ...
(a.k.a. do not be fettered to or by what you have or are given)

( Matthew 7:9-11 )
... and KNOW THAT HE GIVES GOOD GIFTS TO HIS CHILDREN

to Him who breathed His life into man

"parts of you must die, are dying"

I'm learning, Father. There's so much further to go. I want You. I need You horribly deep in my soul; I'm dying inside, Father. Without You, there is emptiness. You've always been Life to me, but, now, my life is going and I have only Yours. It's such a deep, rich, bright, joyous life You give me, Father, but, oh Father, it hurts to die.

Oh, Father. Pull me closer to You. Ruffle my hair and let my tired head rest on Your chest. I want You more than anything. Help me obey; help me want to obey. You are asking what I hold most dear - You are asking what I would rather die than give up - and I don't want to give it. You know. You know, Father. Draw me forward, holding Your hand; You know I want to go with You.

Bring me into what You want me to be.

to bow and praise You

I've been reading C.S. Lewis again: The Problem of Pain. I'd needed reminding. Lewis wasn't perfect, but he wrote in a way that I can understand, that I can relate to. When he talks about God's humility in wanting me even when it's because everything else I have is falling apart, has gone, and I can grasp nothing else, it makes me stop, put the book down, and think.

Pain - that horrid thing that I love and hate because it always brings me back to His feet, but it brings me back in tears. I want to learn to sit at His feet in joy! To bring Him into my strengths! And sometimes He lets me do just that, but, so often, when I don't NEED His strength desperately, I want to use my own. He slides, so gently, out of my thoughts. Life fades into sepia tones. I stop twirling and singing; I worry about what the people around me think of me; I begin looking critically at myself in the mirror, forget to eat, and rarely get enough sleep. I become what I hate: a self-absorbed, loudmouthed, callous individual with a longing for people and a superior inferiority complex - ever so proud of my humility.

Then I lose something. It's amazing what clarity pain brings. He holds His arms out to me as I turn and look up at Him - wide eyes, puzzled brow, tears flowing - "Ouch." Suddenly the sham shows itself for what it is: a glittery cardboard mock-up of Cinderella's castle - Sleeping Beauty in her chloroformed glory, centuries of dirt and cobwebs piled round, in cursed oblivion.

I came to this world with nothing. Nothing that is based only here can be brought out of it again. He shatters me because only when my blinders are broken can I see His face - and if I can't see His face, I will never see anything worth seeing. His glory is the light by which everything else becomes visible.

I ended up in 1 Corinthians 1 (because I love symmetry, I suppose), reading about wisdom, foolishness, strength, and stumbling stones. I ended up remembering that He takes things that are nothing and makes them worthwhile. He takes me - silly, little fallible nut that I am - and makes me loveable. And I love Him for it.

He, Himself, is our peace

The greatest strength of all is within me. It's from this strength I must learn to draw. "Pray without ceasing", You said. "Cast all your cares upon me", You said. "CONSIDER HIM!", You had Paul write. Consider Him.

Thirty years of waiting.
Three years of teaching, healing, and guiding the people He loved.
Then torture, unspeakable hours of torture, deserted and despised by the people He had given up Heaven just to be able to reach out toward.

Consider Him: the Lamb of God, seated on the Throne, our great High Priest, our Savior, who loved us more then Himself and suffered all for our sake. Consider Him.

God, don't let me be so self righteous as to deny myself the only comfort I can have. Remember me according to Your love! Hold me tight! Press me into You; keep me close to You; guard my silly, little heart.

find rest, my soul, in Christ alone

Why am I still such a fool that I think I can hide from You? Like Jonah, I think that, if I fall asleep under miserably wet blankets in the dank hold of a ship headed the other way from where You want me, I will become invisible.

Then You come in. I fling the covers over my head and sit there. You do nothing. I am a curious, guilty child, hiding my dirty hands and pretending that they don't exist. Why aren't You angry? Why aren't You calling me out, making me face You, interrogating me about my guilt? I ignore You.

It's getting hot. I'm wet. I'm sweaty. This blanket is rough and, covering my head as it does, it's dark. I feel so surrounded; it's claustrophobic, not comforting. I can't see my dirty hands. "What dirty hands? I have none. It's wrong to have dirty hands. I can't have them. I mustn't." Why don't You come? Why don't You go? The air under this blanket is so stale and musty. I want to ignore You.

Oh, I am tired. Sitting here, Indian-style, and it's itchy and hot and musty and unbearable. It's Your fault, You know. Just go. Just come. Be angry with me - give me justification to be easier on myself. I have no dirty hands. Are You there?

I lift a corner of the blanket. Yes, my hands are dirty. I look at them. The cloth slides off me, bunching round in a pile about my hips and back. I look at them - my dirty hands. Mute, I stare over at You. I hold my palms out toward You. Back and forth I flip them, letting You see the full extent of the filth under my nails and in the cracks. Oh! I have hands. Ugh, they're dirty. I've been hiding here, hiding them from You, hiding them from me. What will You say now?

And suddenly I realize that You're smiling. You get up off the floor and come to me. You crouch down in front of me. You're holding a washcloth; You wipe my hot, tear-stained face. Still, You don't say anything - You just smile, take my little hands in Your big, calloused ones and gently scrub the grime away. I have hands. They are dirty. They are clean.

You kiss my little hands and say, "My child, my dear little child - why are you so worried about your hands? Why aren't you more worried about what you're DOING with your hands then how they look? Do you think I will be angry if your hands get dirty doing what I tell you to do? Do what I tell you to do, my daughter. Do that, and let Me worry about your hands."

And now, my Father, my arms are 'round Your neck, and there's no need for me to tell all these things that frightened me. I hid in misery, but now, when I see Your face, I can't hold on to that. It doesn't seem real, anymore. Everything that seemed oppressive under that hot, smelly, wet blanket has disappeared now that I'm in the light of day, in Your arms.

How awesome You are, my God.

writing this NOW? child, you've lost all timing.

You'd stop haunting me, I think, if you knew why I couldn't have you. It seems I'm stuck at this stage: not sorry I said no, just not sure who I am now that I've said it. Remorseful, knowing that I'd do it the same way over again. Thinking of that spot just behind your ear that I always wanted to kiss, and never did, and wouldn't even if I was given another chance. I'm not sure whether it's selfishness or real regret, but my typical outlook has changed to a sort of "insha'allah" (why that, of all things?).

Do you understand? Do you understand why I'm writing the things I never told you, won't tell you, can't tell you, am not even sure of myself?

I was nineteen. Does that help you understand? I told you my life is not mine - did that make sense? I told you my name was given; I told you I have never planned my life, but always been led; I told you the miracles that I can't forget; I told you that I am without ambition, and yet you saw that there's one goal I never lay down, and I lay you down for it. Did any of that get through? I never told you that, when you wore blue, you made it hard to breathe. Did it matter?

You called me a "good Christian". I told you I wanted to be. I love Him. I love Him more than me. I love Him more than you. His laws - the things He's asked me to follow, because He loves me, to show my love for Him - tell me I can't have you. You said it's good to question foundations. I said yes, but if the foundation is solid, then it shouldn't be dynamited. You called me a bitch. I deserved that.

I would die for you. Does it matter? Anything I have, you know - do you still know? - would be yours if you needed it; is yours whether you need it or not, if you want it. Do you understand? If you let go, remembered me only as the "good Christian" and not the little, philosophical nut that spun in circles in the rain, arms wide spread, and danced right into the ocean with both feet still in shoes, then I could let go too. If you'd forgive me, I could close this door. "Bitch" is a terrible ending. This strange apathy is worse.

It's like you think I treat you like everyone else. I don't. With everyone else, my heart is armored and my mind free. I speak my mind, I am myself. That's why I can speak of things I believe and think with anyone; it's why I can help people I don't know and debate religion and other things I care passionately about with folk I met five minutes ago. Only with my family, with the people I trust (this is on 2 hands, family included), my heart is unguarded. You could hurt me. Most people can't - my heart's outside their reach - but I'm vulnerable to you.

Funny that I still grin. Funny that I genuinely wouldn't change a thing (except maybe what you think of me). Funny that, quite often, I wake up and see what a beautiful world, what an awesome God, what a fun place, what interesting people. Funny that, now and then, I choose to keep a void inside because it means keeping you without breaking His law, and I'm not sure what to do about that. Funny that He loves me anyway and keeps breaking in on my reverie. Funny, sometimes I remember something you did or said, and I can almost smell you. Funny that He lets me breathe, but is always there when I need to be held. Funny, but sometimes, all I want to do is dance and laugh with Him. Funny, but quite often, I just wish you'd punch me till you let the whole thing go.

periphery

Alone and pale on a tall hill
Full moon rising
Sacrifice
Fire. Stationary. Spin. Thrust.
Knife transfix the heart of stone
Melodrama
Scripted, it could not be better
Every inch perfected; planned
Acting was her mirror

heart's cry

my mask grins - bright, alive
crucible of hidden dreams
have I lost my soul?

-----

you shatter my peace
guilt-ridden; touch your distance
wonder why it's there

-----

my shelter, my Friend
God of a million faces
turn toward me now

-----

tornado whirls
unshakable foundation
oh, God, knowing hurts

-----

I asked this of You
to break my heart, for You
my dreams, not of You, shatter
my hopes, not in You, flounder
my loves, without You, sicken
my self, against You, die

I asked this of You
whitewashed, dead tomb -- LOVE YOU
and now You broke my heart

I asked this of You
forgetting that You answer
knowing You care deeply
but fearful of Your guidance
and wanting You like poison
though conscious that You're Life

I asked this of You
to mend my heart, for You
my dreams, about You, vivid
my hopes, all in You, sturdy
my loves, with You, to deepen
my soul, joined to You, dancing

I asked this of You
blood-washed, still uncertain
oh, Dearest, carry me

hoy no entendo nada

I hate politeness. I wish honesty would be given me. Masks are semi-impenetrable. I had rather have my guts punched. Politeness makes me wonder if this is all in my head; if exhaustion, emotion, sensitivity, and weariness are making me lose my mind.

I drove weeping. Thank God, I drove. Keening, I think, is the word for the noise that continually exited me, but I don't know exactly what it is called aside from my name for it: soul-screaming. This is the only time I do not look in mirrors. I have never seen my face in sorrow of this sort. The ravages it leaves behind are enough to see. I have not wept thus in years. I have never wept thus in public.

Park.

I sat there, car turned off, unable to stop. A lament for the dead? I do not know.

Oh friend, be friend. Oh God, help.

on the Mount that overlooks Cafernahum

"Blessed are the poor in spirit [the people with no strength in and of themselves; in the original language, a poor person who threw their whole trust on God] for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven."

My friend Heather has cerebral palsy. She's in a wheelchair; she cannot speak, feed herself, or brush her own hair. With effort and a special keyboard, she can type, and so it is through email that I truly know her and have seen her precious spirit. As I stood next to her on Sunday in the worship service, God showed me something that brought tears to my eyes and left me emotionally prostrated. He showed me how much better off than me my friend is.

I am distracted by what I'm "doing" - my biking, my work, my cleaning, my writing, my packing, my coffee - but she is not, because she doesn't have these things. I am always so busy, often forgetting to speak with my Father. She is not; He's the only one who understands her and her greatest joy is pouring out her heart to the One who truly knows. I often close my ears to what He's saying, telling Him, "No. I don't want to learn that yet. I'm enjoying this." She hears and rejoices, because what He has for her to do is what she can do, and she loves feeling His pleasure.

And, standing there, I wept and wished that I was close enough to Him to wish I was like her. I'm not. I'm such a mixed up little being - I want so very much to look good and have poise and enjoy living all out, but I also love Him. So I seek His face and, when I listen, He reminds me that "by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace to me was not without effect." I'm a nut, but He made me that and loves me. Come with me, Father! Laugh with me! Dance with me! Live with me! Rejoice in what I'm doing - lead me to what You want me to do. Come into me and fill me up so that I overflow.

Sand & Foam

"Strange that you should pity the slow-footed and not the slow minded, And the blind-eyed rather than the blind-hearted."

"Now let us play hide and seek. Should you hide in my heart it would not be difficult to find you. But should you hide behind your own shell, then it would be useless for anyone to seek you."

"My loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults and blamed my silent virtues."

"Is there a greater fault than being conscious of the other person's faults?"

"Strange, the desire for certain pleasures is a part of my pain."

( Khalil Gibran )

as my father told me...

Dating ... is not an evangelistic exercise.

When I started college two years ago, I made a commitment to myself: that I wasn't going to date at least until I'd finished with my four-year-degree. I know myself; I know that, in that type of relationship, I tend to give my heart quickly and thoroughly. I know that I hate waiting and that my "love language" is physical. I know that I can't get married until at least a few years after college. Knowing that, I made my choice.

It's a decision I haven't had any trouble with...until just a little while ago. Now, I have a dear friend who's made it clear that he wants to be more than a friend. I want him. I want him as friend; I want him as more. I can't have him - I've told him as much (albeit in a jocular manner). Still, he's a great judge of character & motives, and I've never been good at hiding from friends. It isn't fair of me to show him that I want him and not tell him why I won't have him.

I need to talk about this, and I avoided it yesterday because...well, because we were just getting back on our feet. I hurt him, I know I hurt him, when my answer to his teasing, "So - you want to date me?" was simply, "No, not really." That was obvious. We were having a good time yesterday. I didn't want to spoil it. I want to keep this friendship - to break the jinx I've had on non-dating relationships with guys. We've known each other for years now. There have only been six people in my entire life that I've considered "Friend". This man is one of them. We consider the same things important; I respect him and I care a lot about him. He's the type of friend that, if I disappear for a few years and then materialize on his doorstep, will welcome me in as we pick up exactly where we left off: with coffee, a bike ride, and a long talk. That means a great deal to me.

I can't play with his head.

Romans 8:15

Daddy? I can't speak.

"take the phone off the hook & turn the light off"

Father, I have come to the end of me. I have nothing left to give.

Good. Welcome to the beginning of Me. Take what I give you. Give that. Walk in Me, in My strength. You will never come to My end.

spongebob squarepants

Fill me, then, with Your presence. Immerse me in Yourself. You call Yourself "living water" - what does that make me? A fish, surrounded by Your presence as the framework of my world? A sponge, soaking You up and releasing You onto anything against which I'm pushed? A fish doesn't feel wet, but take it out of the water and it will throw a fit. A sponge will only soak up so much water before being sated, but it can be bone dry and brittle.

I'm so easily distracted, Father. I try to fill Your place with other things - things that, even as I stuff them into the time I spend with You - feel inferior. They don't satisfy my soul, but they do give me pleasure. My spirit cries out to You; I feel the lack of Your presence; I sense the difference between happiness and joy. Still, I push to be allowed to make my own way - how foolish! I want to drag You along my path instead of holding Your hand and walking along the "unfamiliar paths" You want me to travel. I want Your love and approval; I just don't don't want to do what You say.

God, You created me with this love of people. Don't let me put them in Your place - every love made into a god becomes a demon, destroys itself. It's only when I love You first and all others deeply and through You that I can keep the people I love. I love them, God. I love them very much. Help me love You more. Help me listen AND obey - not just hear and then forget. Help me want what You want.

Sun Tzu -- The Art of War

"The art of war teaches us to rely not on the likelihood of the enemy's not coming, but on our own readiness to receive him; not on the chance of his not attacking, but rather on the fact that we have made our position unassailable."

My Awesome God

He's so good to me. So incredibly good far beyond what I can even imagine. And, when He pulled me into His arms last night and let me spend over an hour just pouring out my heart and being strengthened and finding Him and really praying - listening to Him and talking with Him and seeing Him answer and being told things I couldn't know that, when I looked into them, were true - I finally understood why I have to stay down here at least a little longer, and that He will be my strength.

And then I woke up this morning and the large amount of pain I was in last night had just disappeared in about five hours. Today I'm more or less back to normal! Even my foot (which had been swollen) has gone down and looks almost entirely well (just a little bruise on my third toe).

He's so awesomely good to me.

adrenaline's a wonderful thing

I am a terrible invalid. I don't lie down, I don't keep quiet, and I am easily discouraged (at which point I become clingy, but tend to hide that). I feel peevish and self-centered and sorry for myself, but I try very hard not to show it. I hope I do a good job at that.

I want to be better; I want everyone to feel sorry for me; I want the people I love to think I'm wonderful; I want to be left alone; I want to be held; I want to be able to think again; I want to stop hurting; I want to look good; I want to sleep; I want to feel something - to come out of this groggy state I've been in for two days now; I want my friends; I want to go cycling; I want to take Bree to the beach; I want to know what car I should get; I want to wake up and find out that this whole silly thing was a dream.

God, this place is so confusing. I want and do what I know You don't want and I don't want, and that bothers me. I keep thinking that I'm doing better at this following You thing, and then something like this happens and I realize just how fallible I am. I find myself biting back words and being moody and achy and wishing I was dead instead of being grateful that You got me through a wreck that everyone agrees should have killed me.

I'm sore. My brain is clogged. My whole body aches, but nothing hurts seriously enough to demand medication. I want You, God. I wish You'd just taken me home, where I wouldn't have to deal with all this and worry about my choices and failings and successes and what they all mean. Give me rest, help me.

Worthy is the Lamb

He's pushing me. He's pushing me hard, but He's pushing me into Himself, so being pushed is something I can have peace in. It's amazing to me that, even while I'm not sure what on earth is going on, I can find peace in Him. Thank God for Himself.

My entire plan for the next two years (and through those two pivotal years, much of my life) may just have been rocked off its axis. I don't know much anymore. Technically, it's been a terrible day: I've failed something major with bearing on FSU, I got and therefore had to replace a flat tire, and I don't know what I'll be doing for the next two years.

But God. I'm too small to mess up my life. He has a plan for it. He's never failed me. He loves me so ridiculously much that, when I start to pull away, He shoves a snare in the works to bring me to the only place I'm ever truly happy: His feet, His arms. He gives me peace. He is life. And then He had the people at Panera give me free coffee.

Thank You for the cross, Lord
Thank You for the price You paid
Bearing all my sin and shame
In love You came and gave amazing grace

Thank You for this love, Lord
Thank You for the nail-pierced hands
Washed me in Your cleansing flow
Now all I know: Your forgiveness and embrace

Worthy is the Lamb, seated on the Throne
Crown You now with many crowns
You reign victorious
High and lifted up, Jesus, Son of God
The darling of Heaven, crucified
Worthy is the Lamb

There is no one like You!

I woke up at 4:30AM last night. Just woke - no reason, no drowsiness, one moment asleep and the next completely and totally alert. "It's too early - it's too dark." I got my phone, saw the time, and rolled back over to get back to sleep. As I settled in on my right side, something or someone very deliberately poked me in my upper-left thigh. I jumped! I reached round behind me and searched for the cat or the dog or the finger that had jabbed me. I found nothing.

This made me very nervous. I lay back down. I was jabbed again. I searched again, but I knew now what it was. I felt like Samuel. God wanted me to pray, and He was willing to poke me out of bed until I hit my knees to do it. I rolled out of bed quickly, knelt, and found my soul surrounded.

I'd been telling Him (and myself) that the reason I've not been praying as much is because I don't have anywhere to do it alone. I have been praying, just not as much. I have been reading, just not as faithfully. I have been praising, but not with my whole heart. I'd begun to push Him away, and I was desperately unhappy about that. I'd been begging Him, using scripture, "according to Your love remember me!" - not according to what I am, but according to what I want to be, according to how much I want to follow Him even when I don't want to. He loves me so much, even when I'm a mess. Oi, I'm so grateful for that. I'd been begging Him to give me back my love of worship. I'd been begging Him to give me back my all-consuming love of Him. I'd been begging Him not to let me go. He answered.

He met with me last night, and He's still here this morning. I can feel His presence, and I'd been missing it so badly. I love Him. I love this almost physical sense of His presence: His peace, His joy, His love. I keep bursting out (quietly - some folk are still asleep!) into praise songs; I can't help myself - my God is here! He's listening to them! I can feel the attributes I'm singing about all around me!

This is real life. Nothing else compares. Nothing else is even worth comparing.
I am alive. He is Life. This is awesome.

happiness is Easy Cheese and a box of wheat crackers; joy...is bigger

My name was given, not chosen. My parents prayed seperately, then came together when they'd both been given the same name: Priscilla Joy. You can mess around and get a few different translations, but essentially it means "inherent joy". That name defines me; it's defined me since before I understood what it meant. Because it was given, not chosen, it is me. And yet - because it was given, not chosen, because it is God's plan for me - I've had to fight to keep it. I get pushed into depression or frustration or cynicism or just wanting to be well liked and I begin to lose what I am.

I don't want that. I'm sick of it. I want to rejoice in Him. I want to share that peace and joy with everyone around me. I want to love people. I want to serve. I want to forget how I look and how insane I must appear and just revel in my God and in everything He's put around me. I want to stop caring what everyone - even my dearest friends, my heart - thinks about me and what a little nut I am. I want to stay connected to Him; to never lose my love for Him. It's only in Him that I am joy - when I leave Him I let other things affect me and then I become just like everyone else. It's just not worth it. He satisfies me. He gives me joy in and with everything so that I enjoy life and don't fear death. Without Him, everything pales. I can't enjoy anything to the extent that I do when I can laugh with Him. He makes me...me. He's life, and life's nothing without Him.

Ach, enough, I'm off to bounce and grin with one of my dearest friends. Did I mention that I spent this afternoon crashing cars? Amazing explosions...wonderful thing to do before going swimming. Apparently, I'm an old-style Victorian lady...

what was said last night

"You know, she has a double portion of anointing?"

"You are one of His favorite daughters."

"You're not going to recognize yourself; you'll be a new person. Parts of you must die, are dying, and the wonderful thing is that you are choosing that. You won't recognize yourself, even in your mind, and the reason will be that it is Him living in you."

"You're something special."

"I knew what she meant. God spoke to me and He said, 'You have two daughters. You love the one who has chosen to disobey, to ignore you, you know how much it hurts when she refuses your love. But you have another daughter; one who loves you and goes out of her way to obey and trust you, and you know what a joy it is to bless her."


God, help me choose to obey, to die, and to love You. This is what You've called me to; this is what You have for me. Help me obey.

rambling

If I look good, I'm going biking tomorrow. Depending on how good I look, I might drag the swimsuit along too...but probably not.

I am lonely, Lord, and yet I have friends. Not many in here, in fact, only one here and that one the one I must guard against. I do a horrible job of guarding, Father. Either I guard agaist this or a lose yet another friend. And yet, I hate guarding.

You made me myself. Help me live like You want me to....Daddy? I really want to look good tomorrow. I'm getting rather lost in all this. I feel like I've slid into one of those huge t-shirts I'm so emphatically fond of. Usually the feeling of being a tiny being lost in billowing folds is comforting, but, at the moment, I don't know what I'm wrapped in, and that confuses me. I don't want to lose another friend. I want to keep my friends; they mean a lot to me. Help me learn this lesson.

I give You my words and actions - help me, Daddy. Protect me, the way that You do when I'm driving. Guide me, the way that You do when You have me act in Your Name. Comfort me, the way that You do when I'm crying. Support me, the way that You do when my world falls apart. Help me, the way that You do because You love me and made me who I am, with all these nutty moods and poses and loves and confusions. Give this friend to me, the way that You gave me the front parking space at the beach this morning, despite the fact that the entire parking lot was filled, just because I asked and because You love me. Give this friend to me as friend, but You take them first and wholly, and, God, please take them and make them whole.

choosing sides

"The issue is not whether God is on our side, but whether we are on God's side."

- Kenneth Kuanda

When I make Christ a means to my end, I cease to be Christian and become nothing more than a human fanatic. When Christ is the end in view - when He is my goal - then whatever means I take must be worthy of Him and, therefore, will be His means. He will not be a means unless it is a means to Himself, to my perfection and His glory. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Light...but He is a one-way street. Truth cannot tolerate lies; darkness cannot exist in light's presence.

If I focus on following God, I'll never be without Him. He's promised not to leave me, but He's not a WWJD bracelet or a crucifix on a silver chain; He is God. If I focus on other goals -- connecting them to Christ with an "and" (e.g. Christianity and the Republican/Democratic Party, Christianity and the Baptist/Protestant Church, Christianity and the Pro- or Anti-War movement, etc.) -- I'll find I've lost Him somewhere along my way.
Why? Because He's still on His.

Be Unto Your Name

there's a song that's inside of my soul
it's the one that I've tried to write over and over again
so I'll raise my head up high and I'll lift my hands and pray
to be only Yours, only Yours
You know You're my only hope

He's teaching me this lesson, simply because He's making it more costly for me to keep it unlearned than to learn and live it. I have failed this test so many times.

God, help me to listen to You and to obey what You tell me to do. You know exactly what needs to be done. I'm tired of running the show in this; I'm tired of not trusting You to take it in Your hands and do what is best - I've been afraid that You would leave me all alone with my life horribly botched and my heart eternally scarred. I have not trusted You in this area of my life. God, I give You this thing that is so close to my heart: my friends. I lose them when I hold them tight and won't give them up to You. It's only what I release to You that I can keep; it's only what I let You control of that I don't need to stress over.

Take this - my very heart - and let it glorify Your name. Take this - what I have kept from You - and accept it as a sacrifice, entirely Yours, and don't let me take back the reins. Fill every part of my life, help me to see what I am keeping from You, and live in and through me.