“Unworthy wretch,” quoth he, “of so great grace, how dare I thinke such glory to attaine?”

Well, here I am at the Elbow Room, working on homework.

I was incredibly discouraged earlier today.  I had planned on leaving work, eating a quick lunch, and traveling to the library to work for hours and hours and accomplish so many things.  Instead, I ate, then napped.  I was so tired.  Then I woke up to an e-mail from my literature professor that made me fear my essay was not the greatest.  I now am under the impression that it wasn’t perhaps as bad as I’d feared, but I don’t know for sure.

I was in my sweatpants at home, all stressed out and feeling totally worthless and like I’d wasted so much time, so I got dressed and drove myself out here to the Elbow Room.  It’s quiet – I’m the only person here other than the barista, and it’s really nice.  I’m sitting in one of their beautiful bay windows, and the restaurant across the street is lit up with white Christmas lights, like it is all year long.

I feel much better than I did earlier.  Maybe it’s because I can smell the Butterscotch Toffee Cream coffee, or maybe it’s because the introverted side of me is getting some much needed alone time, but I feel good.

The paper I turned in to my Milton and Spenser professor was not my best.  I don’t know my grade for it yet, but I feel like I just hit a wall with the paper.  I have been realizing more and more that I am just not good at academic writing.  I’ve almost always been able to get by, blowing off the academic because I was going to be a creative writer.  Now that things in my life are changing, now that I’m considering going into academic research and teaching, I’m realizing that I can no longer afford to scrape by with my ability to spit out a bunch of intelligent sounding nonsense.  I need to learn to communicate my ideas in a much less casual way, which is proving more difficult.  In high school, we were always taught that academic writing was supposed to be void of sparkle and wit; it wasn’t allowed to have personality.  So from that point on, I learned to intelligently regurgitate information I had consumed in a way that was varied enough that it wouldn’t be considered plagiarism.  Unfortunately, it left me successful enough, and now I am stuck at 24, feeling completely impotent as an academic writer.

So I wrote this paper for Milton and Spenser on Spenser’s The Faerie Queene and the sanctification journey of Redcrosse the knight.  And I was so excited about the subject.  But I found as I wrote that, although I reached the page requirement, I wasn’t really saying anything.  I was summarizing and demonstrating understanding of what happened, but I wasn’t communicating what it meant that those things happened.  I never quite said why it was that Redcrosse’s sanctification journey was so important.  Sure, I stated that he wouldn’t have reached the same character evolution were it not for his struggles, but I never said why his struggles and character evolution were so very, very important for anyone to read, know, and experience.

So I’m overhauling the paper.  Sure, the assignment was completed, submitted, and graded.  But this is such an important topic that I am unwilling to dismiss the opportunity without another effort. And luckily for me, my professor requires us to create roughly 20 pieces or reflective works to turn in at the end of the semester.  So this will be one of them.

What’s so important to me, though, what’s so relevant to my life and everyone else’s, is that everyone must face a sanctification journey.  Whether they be Christian or non, every single person on earth faces trials and decisions and experiences that shape and mold them into someone different on the other side.  And oftentimes, like Redcrosse, we begin those journeys arrogantly, refusing to seek help or wisdom from anyone else.

Although I truly believe this is something that is universal, I must confess that I feel the sanctification journey is most beloved within Christian doctrine.  The concept that we can fight for our own wisdom, our own way, and march forward to our own destruction and yet – and yet – we are never outside the hands of a loving Father God, is a most blessed one.  As believers, we are a new creation, and we don’t have to consistently and actively participate in sanctification to be actively sanctified.

That is precisely the type of journey Redcrosse experiences.  He starts out, determined to prove himself, not heeding any advice from those wiser or more temperate than he.  His actions lead him almost to his destruction, to a point where he is forced to rely on the help of those more noble than he.  He then submits to lessons in spiritual disciplines, and finally is led by the character Mercie up to meet with Contemplation on the mountaintop.  It is there, when Contemplation reveals that Redcrosse will become Saint George, that Redcrosse sees angels and saints traveling around the New Jerusalem.  He is in disbelief that he would ever be as worthy of the glory of sainthood.  Contemplation simply replies

“These that have attaind, were in like cace,”

Quoth he, “as wretched, and lived in like paine.”

This is momentous revelation for Redcrosse.  He has spent the entire first canto of The Faerie Queene struggling to prove himself on his own merit, only to fail and realize that he is unworthy.  My claim is that this is the key to the importance of his journey.  Had Redcrosse been noble the whole time and easily claimed his goal of Christian Knighthood and holiness, the story would not have been so profound.  It is because Redcrosse proves himself unworthy and incomplete over and over again that his journey is so important.  Because he struggles, because he wars with himself and his own feelings of insignificance, we the readers cannot only understand the gravity of his final realization with Contemplation, we can also identify.

We can identify, because in our lives, rarely is something easy worth having, and rarely do we actually deserve anything we receive.  We are unworthy wretches, struggling to prove ourselves in a world that hates our Creator and anything that resembles Him.  We are fighting to do things on our time, to realize our dreams, to do everything to our glory.  But even in those moments of active rebellion, the Holy Spirit is still moving within us, still changing and shaping our hearts and minds to be more like Christ, to be more worthy, less wretched, and more whole.

And it is that wholeness, that holiness, that is so worth the struggle.

It looks like it’s time to do some serious work.

I’m sitting here on the couch, sipping a Founder’s Breakfast Stout, and staring at my computer screen.  It’s after midnight, and I’m due to work at 6:30 am for a full shift.

But there is something on my heart that cannot wait.  Of course, though, I cannot think of the correct way to communicate this conviction.

Just today I was informed of a very sad situation involving an institution with which and people to whom I used to be connected.  In a way, I still am very connected to these, but time (and the hand of God) has guided me down a different path.  However, this situation breaks my heart, as well as stirs up in me a fear of what is yet to come.  I would share more, but I do not feel it would be a gracious move on my part.  Suffice it to say, it is a Christian institution, and they are making decisions I feel are taking them further from the True Gospel of Jesus Christ and further into the land of self-righteousness.

My initial reaction to this information was anger, mixed with arrogance.  A kind of, “glad I left that place when I did” attitude.  Now I am still angry, but I am growing increasingly more sad and broken.  Still, Christ rules supreme, and His sanctification is evident: I am inspired to do something about this.

Back in 2008, when I cut ties with the aforementioned “Christian institution,” I was angry and filled with rage.  I had been wounded and became very bitter.  But as I also said, the sanctification of God is evident, as He is softening my heart to see how I can take steps to change things, rather than stew in my outrage.

Back in August, I wrote this entry on Christianity and the fine arts.  Since then, I have been lead to further pursue this realm of understanding, even to the point that I am preparing to submit an official research grant proposal within (hopefully) the next year or so.  But in my personal studies on the subject of Protestantism and the handling of the arts and artists therein, I have learned a great deal about community in the body of believers.  I have also learned how empty are the academic and artistic pursuits that have been abandoned to those who have abandoned God.  Through this research, I have felt what I am convicted is the firm pressing of the Lord’s hand upon my heart, as though this may be something big, much bigger than I had originally conceived.

On the way home, I was sharing with my parents how I feel like I may have found my “calling,” or, at least, one of them.  I want to add to the academic conversation that encourages true believers to shatter the sacred/secular dichotomy and live in the freedom granted to us through the Gospel of Christ.  This freedom to live richer, deeper, God-glorifying lives free from sin.  This requires, to a large extent, learning to embrace every aspect of life, and corralling it into a means of introducing the world to true beauty, and thereby, to the Creator God.  This includes the worlds of the arts, academia, and philosophy. Sadly, these seem to be the worlds that are the most abandoned, and the most starved for the light of Christ.  The steps that said “Christian institution” is proposing to take would further abandon these worlds, and deprive the minds of young men and women from tackling tough and “dangerous” thoughts and conquering them for sake of the Lord.

This is what both breaks my heart and, oddly enough, inspires me.  

In the face of a Christian institution that is perhaps refusing to live according to the Gospel, I am challenged to do the opposite.  I am challenged to face-forward and oppose this sad move toward self-righteousness by refusing to comply in my own life.  I am not involved enough in this specific situation to feel that I have a right to personally involve myself, however, I can challenge other believers to also root their minds and hearts in the Gospel and refuse to give up.

My friends, my brothers and sisters, it is time for us to do work.  It is time for us to rise and seize the worlds of academic, philosophical, and artistic thought and action, and to pursue them for higher glory.  Some of you may be called to personally rise against this specific situation, and I urge you to do so prayerfully, and thereby do it well.  But we have a higher calling, beyond this specific outrage.  We must cast off our lethargy and refuse to subscribe to a system that forces us to choose between “sacred” and “secular,” two categories that aren’t even opposite one another.  We must chase whatever is in our path with all our energy, be it academic, scientific, theological, artistic, philosophical, or mechanical.  We must not follow the misguided and abandon these aspects of life to the vices of humanity.

We must also stop settling for mediocrity in these areas.  Rather than settling for “good enough” we must strive for “better.”  Men and women who do not love the Lord are doing this everyday; we should be doing the same.  Chris Thile and his MacArthur Foundation “Genuis Grant” is a clear example of the kind of excellence we should be striving to emulate, in whichever field we choose.  We should also cease to simply sit around, pointing out the wrongs of others, and begin to act.

Brothers and sisters, this is something we can actually change.

So, if you are willing, consider this a call to action.  Consider this a passionate urging from your sister to come and fight with me.  Refuse to abandon noble pursuits to those who are not pursuing God, but stand beside those people, putting forth your absolute all to excel at everything you do.

We may not change the world, and we may not change the “Christian institution,” but we can change ourselves.  And we can start now.

1 Corinthians 10:23-33 (ESV)

²³ “All things are lawful,” but not all things are helpful. “All things are lawful,” but not all things build up. ²⁴ Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor. ²⁵ Eat whatever is sold in the meat market without raising any question on the ground of conscience. ²⁶ For “the earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof.” ²⁷ If one of the unbelievers invites you to dinner and you are disposed to go, eat whatever is set before you without raising any question on the ground of conscience. ²⁸ But if someone says to you, “This has been offered in sacrifice,” then do not eat it, for the sake of the one who informed you, and for the sake of conscience— ²⁹ I do not mean your conscience, but his. For why should my liberty be determined by someone else’s conscience? ³⁰ If I partake with thankfulness, why am I denounced because of that for which I give thanks?

³¹ So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. ³² Give no offense to Jews or to Greeks or to the church of God, ³³ just as I try to please everyone in everything I do, not seeking my own advantage, but that of many, that they may be saved

A Dream and a New Year’s Resolution

Last night, thanks to NyQuil and maybe God, I had a very strange dream about some of the people I left behind from my C-ville days.  I don’t know if you could call those in the dream “friends.”  I suppose, at least for the main participant in the dream, there was a brief time where we were, genuinely, friends.  Maybe we weren’t.  Who knows?  What’s important is that I woke up at 6am with something inside my heart telling me to write!  ”Write this dream!  Write your thoughts!”  So I did.  It’s not like this person was any different in my dream than he had been in real life.  He was sad, moody, and rebellious.  But it was my way of coping with it.  I was confident.  I was, in my dream, who I am today.  I wasn’t the sad, out-of-place girl desperately searching for friends that got me.  I didn’t read his every long glance or flirtatious smile as a hint of something more, because in my dream, I knew him for who he was, and expected no more.  I was as cool as I had always thought he was, unattached, strong, intelligent, while he prattled on to me about how his parents were worried about him.

The thing about this all, the dream and the reality of the situation, is that I am finally come to terms with my “C-ville experience.”  I am at peace with both my love and my hate for that place and those people and who I was and who I am today.  And nothing but the grace of God got me here.  In all my struggles to get over it, to shove it away, to hate it with all the fire in me, not once did I move on.  In my grappling to love it, in my confusion when I missed it, I didn’t once reach a “healthy” understanding of what that experience did to me, in my life.  But now, just over 3 years after leaving, I have come to terms.

And I think that’s what’s gonna happen from now on.  I have tried, so hard to get over my ex. To get over the lies, the betrayal, the hurt.  I have tried to hate him, I have tried to forgive him, I have tried to be strong, and I have tried to grow up and be better.  But I think the point is to stop trying.  Trying is not what gets me anyway.  Time and grace from God is what gets me where I need to be.

So while there is work to be done and there is effort to be made, I am done trying to succeed on my own merit, my own strength, and my own righteousness.  I am going to work on giving up control, and letting the Lord sanctify me.

Praise God for His never-ending grace and love, His patience and His diligence to work good works through us.  Without Him, we are truly worthless.

Coffee Dates with God

Coffee Dates with God

An article written by an internet friend of mine.  Excellent advice, and something I plan on implementing once I can drive again.

We should all remember to put effort into regularly connecting with our Father.  Taking time out of our busy schedules to remember what matters.

Thanks, Mary, for these thoughts.

Simplify.

This is something that’s been on my mind a lot lately, mostly since I had my seizure.  Unfortunately, this is going to be the abridged version of what’s in my head as it is late, I am tired, and I prefer to handwrite these things before typing them on this blog.  Hopefully, there will be more to come in the future.

However, I just wanted to touch on the concept of simplifying life.  I currently have 503 friends on Facebook.  I know that’s a spit on the pavement compared to others, but still, it’s too many.  I love being able to network, but I am so tired of feeling pulled in a million different directions all the time.  I can’t delete this person or that because they’ll cause drama if I do, but they don’t even like me.  Anything I post is seen by everyone who wants, and yeah, sure, I can limit certain accessibility, but I shouldn’t have to do that.  I’m tired also of being afraid to miss out on something or someone.  I shouldn’t worry about that.  I mean, was life before Facebook really that bad?  When people exited life, there was closure.  Things just ended then, or naturally drifted apart.  

We’re so connected to everything and everyone all the time, but in all honesty, we aren’t all that connected.  We’re connecting through an artifice, and we’re telling ourselves that we’re active in one another’s lives.

And I’m tired of not getting rest.  I’m tired of hurting whenever someone else is engaged or pregnant (okay, that doesn’t happen all the time… just too much to be healthy).  I’m tired of knowing what everyone is eating and thinking all day every day.

And above all else, I’m tired of living a life consumed by me.  I’m tired of being compelled to share everything I’m thinking always.  Tired of whether or not my profile picture is attractive or funny enough.  Tired of trying to impress people I don’t even really know.  

I guess I’m just tired and need to create more rest in my life.

Speaking of which, it’s almost midnight.  I need to head for bed.

Awake, awake, awake.

Last night, I joined some friends for a night hike in a nature park here in Mid-Michigan.

For those of you who don’t know, hiking, biking, and canoeing at night are some of my absolute favorite things to do.  No flashlights, no TV, no texting, no photos, no Facebook.  Just you, your friends, the stars, the moon, and the rest of God’s creation. 

The last time I was able to do this was the summer of 2008.  My best friend Erin and I would bike across camp after all the campers were at rest in their cabins.  We would hike, too, all without flashlights.  Every night was a new adventure, running through the woods, howling at the moon, writing poetry, and talking about God.  Talking about how we wanted God to change us and use us to change the world.

It wasn’t an ideal summer, though.  I had had an extremely rough first year away at college and was unknowingly struggling with hormonal depression.  I even had a rough time with my job that summer, and felt afraid of life and people and everything.  In the midst of all that, though, I felt an urgent hope.  Something telling me that no matter how empty I felt, I needed to hang on.  Something telling me that things were rough and probably only going to get worse, but that I would get through them.

That was the summer my friend John told me to cling to God.  “It’s not wrong to question things, Jessica,” he told me over the phone.  ”You just need to cling to some Biblical Truth that won’t change.”  God is love.  God loves you.  God is in control.  Those were the things I clung to that summer.  I didn’t know what was coming, or what I would become, but I knew that God was taking care of me.  

Every day was difficult, some more than others.  I struggled with fulfilling the duties of my job, struggled with remaining passionate about working with the campers, and struggled with finding truth in the midst of a bunch of human philosophies.  But as soon as I would lock up my shed for the night, jump on my bike, and ride down the path, everything changed.  It’s not like I locked all my troubles up with the paint and hemp in the handicraft shed, but they were certainly more easily managed while pink, red, and purple light from the sunset bathed my face.  I had sight beyond the present when I was dancing under the stars or hiking down a trail through the woods, singing praise songs with my friends.  Every moment was exploding with the feeling of importance, and a frantic urge to write down everything.

Things certainly did get worse after returning to school that fall.  I ended up dropping out and going home, finding out I was hormonally depressed, and spending a few years attending community college and feeling like I was stuck.  It wasn’t as if every moment was so awful or boring, but I definitely became fairly comfortable in my situation.  I no longer had friends to go hiking or biking with.  Everyone began getting married and moving away.  I got swept up in a messy relationship that ended only eight-ish months ago.  Then in March, I went to Chicago.  I had the talk with Tiffany about Biblical grace and realized that I was waking up.  I felt suddenly as if I was beginning to rediscover everything I had forgotten about God and the calm He provides in chaos.

Last night, on that hike, everything was so familiar.  It wasn’t the same as that summer up north with Erin and the others, but it was a reminder to keep my eyes open.  It was a reminder to stay awake.

Gratefulness in Pruning

I have been hesitant to write too often on the subject of the breakup/my ex.  Those things don’t rule my life, and while I’ve spent a lot of thought and prayer on them, I don’t want them to rule my blog.  I also hesitate to write about him often, because while I don’t care if he ever reads any of this, I don’t want to slander him. I have no respect for him, but I also have no desire to ruin him to other people.  I want to be loving and Godly in my writings about him, and while I believe in honestly, I also believe in grace.

I’ve also been waiting for time to pass.  It’s been a year since we met and started “dating,” and at the end of January, it will be a year since he dumped me.  I wanted to write then, in January, so I could write having the knowledge of a year put behind me.  But I think I want to write tonight.

I have blocked him on every form of social media I can.  I don’t want to know him anymore, and I certainly don’t want him to have any kind of access to my life.  For a month after he dumped me, however, I would still check in on his blog from time to time, wanting to know what he was thinking.  I wanted something to tell me he regretted his decision, that there actually was a good person inside of him, the person I thought he was when I had agreed to become his girlfriend.  Each time I would look, though, I would find nothing but more heartache for myself.  He didn’t feel sorry, he didn’t feel sympathy; it was as if he’d already moved on before he’d even dumped me.  So I vowed to stop looking, and I stopped looking.

Months passed.  I was well past missing him, well past him, but I was still struggling with what had happened.  The physical involvement, the emotional entanglement – it all incited such anger inside me when I thought of it.  I was so scared that I would never get over the bitterness, anger, resentment, and feelings of rejection.  

Then a few weeks ago, I was digging around for something in my basement when I found an unmarked box.  Curious, I opened it and found the stash of gifts my ex had given me over the course of our brief romance (my mom had hidden them away until she could take them to donate them).  I was surprised, but had no emotional reaction.  A couple weeks after that, I needed a box to sort some give-away items, so I removed the gifts, placed them in our bigger donate pile, and used the box.  Again, no emotional reaction.  Later, I even read the letter he wrote to me inside the journal he’d given me.  I wasn’t angry and I wasn’t sad; it was simply a distant memory.

Then, two nights ago, I was on my Tumblr account.  In the right margin, Tumblr kept suggesting I follow my ex’s blog.  NO! I thought.  Tumblr, you don’t get it!  I don’t want him in my life – at all!  I was irritated, knowing that I didn’t want to take the time to block him, but also didn’t want his picture to keep popping up on my homepage.  So I blocked him.  And then I did something I’d vowed not to do.

I looked at his blog.

Once again, I was surprised.  Not at the content of his page, but at my lack of emotional attachment.  I felt disappointment, to see that he has continued on a downward spiral of negative behavior.  I felt sad for him and for his family.  But then I felt relief – overwhelming, exhilarating relief.  

I am free.  Free of all the things he posted on that blog.  Free from being responsible to take care of him and the mess he’s making.  Free from being manipulated and lied to and teased and dragged away from what’s important in life.  Free to see the beginnings of what God has planned for my future, which is more than my ex could have ever given me.  I am free to be content in my skin, alone, myself.  Free to need no validation other than what I find in Christ.  

Through the mistakes I made with my ex, through that experience, I have been moved to a place I never knew I could be.  I am writing important things, doing important things, and finally moving forward.  

No, I don’t owe this all to my ex, because he didn’t do anything for anyone but himself.  He is simply a game piece controlled by vices.  He doesn’t own himself the way he thinks he does.  

But God owns me.  That is evident not by my perfection in behavior or heart, but by His hand in my life.  He is changing me, little by little.

Our associate pastor, Paul, preached a three-week series on the beginning of John 15, where Jesus talks about being the True Vine, and His Father being the Vinedresser.  Paul taught us that, if we are true children of God, we will be “pruned.”  God will take us through situations that are difficult, situations that “trim our branches” so that we may produce good fruit.  It’s similar to the concept of gold in the refiner’s flame – it is so that we may be purified and become more like Christ.  

I should probably be giving a lot more attention to what I learned from the sermon and Scripture, but I think the biggest point I took away was the concept of abiding in Christ and His love.  Trusting that, no matter what happens, He’s in control.  He’s in charge of what’s going on and, because I am His child, it is changing me and molding me so that I may better serve Him.  

Something else God has revealed to me is how poorly I understand grace and how little I trust God to forgive me, let alone change me.  These are concepts I’ve written on before, so if you’re interested, you can find my thoughts on grace here and my thoughts on forgiveness here.

Now, I am learning to abide in the perfect love of Christ, along with His perfect grace and forgiveness.  He is all I need, and I will never be filled outside of Him.

15 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. ² Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. ³ Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. ⁴ Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. ⁵ I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. ⁶ If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. ⁷ If you abide in me, and my words abide in you,ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. ⁸ By this my Father is glorified, that youbear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples. ⁹ As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. ¹⁰ If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. ¹¹ These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full. (source: biblegateway.com)

On Divorcing Christianity from the Fine Arts, or Why Can’t Christians Be Good at Art, Too?

I have been learning a lot this past month, almost as if my seizure knocked a few things into place inside my brain.  However, it’s probably just what happens to me every year about this time.  As soon as summer begins to pack its bags and autumn prepares to move in, I take a few long strides toward positive change.  I feel most at home in my skin this time of year, most inspired, and most capable of growth.  Perhaps it’s because my birthday is in January, so autumn is not merely near the end of a calendar year, but near the end of another year of my life.

This year I’ve been realizing that my understanding of Biblical grace, forgiveness, and sin are skewed.  This is a “big picture” kind of realization, something arching over the narrative of the smaller, compartmentalized goings-on of my life.  I find that my views of these big concepts affect the way I view everything else.

One of those things is the discussion of Christianity and the Fine Arts.  Why is it that Christians seem widely incapable of (or unconcerned with) producing phenomenal art, music, and literature?  Since when did Christianity become an excuse to produce sloppy work or poor art?  Why is it that an entire community – the community of nonbelievers, those without a Biblical understanding of grace – produces art and music and literature that is more excellent and more intelligently communicated than those who have supposedly been personally reconnected with the Creator God, those who are supposedly in constant spiritual communion with this God of the universe?

Why is there even a divorce of these two worlds – those who follow Jesus and those who create?  Isn’t it more honoring to the Lord to achieve the utmost excellence in whatever you do?

I have always found it frustrating in conversations with fellow Christians who ask about the degree I am pursuing.  The first question is always if I plan on using my undergrad English degree to teach.  I always answer, “Not really.”  A lot of people then ask if I plan on becoming a missionary and teaching English as a Foreign Language or something.  I also say no to that one.  As they become more perplexed, I drop the bomb: I want to write.  It takes a little time for them to recover before they ask me the final question: “Are you going to write Christian books or devotionals?”

This is the part that makes me grit my teeth the most.  Not because writing strictly for evangelism or Bible study or other believers isn’t an entirely noble pursuit, but because I don’t think that Christian writers should all be limited to that arena.  If we write only to those who think the way we do, to those who get us, then how are we ever to challenge others, or be challenged in return?  And since when is the Christian forbidden from activities and thoughts outside of an explicitly Christian vernacular?  

Paul instructed the Romans to offer their bodies as a “living sacrifice.”  This means that in whatever they did, they were to do it to glorify the Lord.  I think this involves gardening or star gazing or making music or paintings or writing, but I don’t think this means that we can only write for Christian audiences.  I think it means we are to work to achieve the highest standard of excellence of which we are capable.  I think it means keeping in mind that everything we see and do should be viewed through the lens of the Gospel.  And I think this is the farthest thing from an excuse to slack off.  I mean, is it honoring to God when we do things half-heartedly?  What does it look like for a student to be outspoken about his or her faith in the first few weeks of class, but then to become known as someone who barely shows up to lecture, or someone who never hands in assignments (I’m guilty of this one).  So shouldn’t it be the same with art?  If we’re claiming to be Christians, shouldn’t we be busting our tails to produce the best quality, just for sake of bringing Christ honor and glory?  How are we to convince nonbelievers that we know the True God and that following Him is the greatest reward if we don’t demonstrate the fire He has lit within us?

Jon Foreman is a great example of what I think it means to be a Christian and still achieve excellence in the arts.  He fronts Switchfoot, and he writes solo worship music, however, much of his solo music doesn’t explicitly mention God.  However, God is clearly present in Foreman’s musings on life and humanity.  Foreman doesn’t shy away from anger and honesty for fear of inappropriateness for Christian audiences.  He embraces the reality of the human struggle.

So why can’t the rest of us do just that?  Why can’t we be honest about our sins, questions, and struggles, especially knowing that we are in the hands of God Himself?  Being honest through our creation of art opens our hearts to challenges and the opportunity to see sin in ourselves revealed.  Through this, we are given the opportunity to watch God change lives.  I wonder, sometimes, if we Christians are so afraid of messing up that we try to hide behind what we think looks perfect.  As though if we get something wrong, if we say something accidentally blasphemous, God won’t forgive us this time.  If we admit that, in reality, we really are pissed off that He would allow such-and-such to happen to us, that He won’t help us get through.  I believe with my core that we must respect and honor God for who He is, and that requires humility and a healthy fear.  However, isn’t true humility developing the ability to admit how you really feel, even if it’s not how you’re supposed to feel?  When we’re honest about what’s really going on in our hearts, we allow room for improvement and growth.  We allow grace to enter in and do its work.  And grace cannot change us if we act like we’ve got it all together all the time.

A Hormone-Inspired Post (with a little Gnarls Barkley, for your viewing/listening pleasure)

I had another “irrational fear of marriage” moment tonight.

Not a huge deal, because I know it’s mostly hormone-related.  It’s just I’m afraid that marriage will be the end – of everything.  At the same time, I think I would very much enjoy being married, having children, and so forth.

I am simply afraid of getting married and giving up.  Letting myself go, not only physically, but also intellectually and spiritually, and in regard to my dreams.

I look around and see so many people who only have the goal of avoiding loneliness.  They think that attachment to another human is what will keep them from being lonely, so they chase after that with everything inside them and think of little else.  Often, they seem to reach their final destination.

But that’s just it.  It’s the final destination.  Because they spend all their energy pursuing marriage, these people never reflect on who they are or what else they want from life.  They expect another human to fulfill them and give thought to little else.

The truth is, nothing but dependence on Jesus will bring us total fulfillment.  Even pursuing non-marital dreams and goals will leave us empty eventually.  What scares me is just that, at least in this community, marriage seems to be more of a hindrance to long-term happiness than it is an assist.

But what I have to remember is this:

• if God wants me married, He will provide the best man for me.  If I wait on Him, my life will not be empty and meaningless, and marriage will not be the final destination.
• if not (or even, in the meantime), I must pursue the Lord with my whole heart and work to become the most excellent, God-glorifying human being I am capable of becoming.  This means pouring my heart into studying Scripture, as well as further developing my talents, skills, and interests.  I must serve others selflessly, and pursue truth and honor.

Right now, I’m deciding to move forward.  With the exception of “shark week” and other related events, I am deciding to avoid the “no one wants me” pity parties.

I am leaving that all behind.

I’m going on, and I’m prepared to go it alone.

Diagnosis

For a few months, now, I’ve been having these strange, “episodes,” for lack of a better term.  I would get the feeling of deja vu and suddenly slip into a dreamlike state while still awake.  This happened multiple times until finally, this past Thursday (July 13), I had one, then slipped out of awareness.  The next thing I remember were EMTs walking into my house.

“What happened?”  I asked my mom, feeling exhausted.

“You had a seizure,” she explained.  The EMTs loaded me up into the ambulance and drove me to the hospital.  The next day, I was diagnosed with epilepsy.  The “episodes” I had been having were seizures, but they were minor ones.  Apparently, on Thursday, I had a full out, flailing one.  

So I have epilepsy.

Epilepsy.

And I can’t drive for six months (unless I have another seizure, then it’ll be another six months).  

So not only have I been having seizures, I am losing my independence.  Hopefully just temporarily (because hopefully we can get a handle on this), but still.  

I don’t know what all to say.  I mean, I’m going to be okay.  So far the medicine seems to be working, so I haven’t had any more seizures.  I just feel weird all the time now.  Worn out.  Weak.  But I will be okay.  It’s not like I haven’t already been through some hard crap, you know?  I had cancer as a kid, kidney stones, premenstrual dysphoric disorder, etc.  What’s one more disability?  

I don’t know why yet, but I know it’s going to be worth it.  I know that at the end of everything, who I become will glorify the Lord more because of epilepsy.

This life isn’t about me.  I’m just a tree in a story about a forest.