bekahcubed We (just barely) fit ourselves into the Suburban for our trip to Hu-Hot for Timothy’s birthday (a month late).
I commented that people don’t count us anymore–we’re old enough that they just assume we’re a bunch of kids hanging out together. So after we’d been at the restaurant a while, our waitress comes up and asks us, “Are you all brothers and sisters?” And then turning to Mom she says, “So you had seven kids? Like in ‘Seventh Heaven’.”
I guess I spoke too soon.
You know, you could spend lots of money to buy organizers for everything–or you could just use what you have, like I did here:
A Carl Budding meat container turned sink-side scrubber caddy. Just remove the stickers, punch some holes in the bottom, and there you are!
I have often wished that I did not have so many great desires. For had I fewer and lesser desires, I should be less pained when I am called to lay them aside for Christ.
If food did not so interest me, if I did not so much enjoy comfort, if I did not so much long for recognition. If this world did not so much enchant me, the breaking of the spell should leave more of myself intact.
And such is the problem–not my desires but the thing that both produces them and is sustained by them. I am the problem and all my desires are small compared to the desire for self-preservation. Self-love induces me to beg for things for myself–and that, at least, if they must be taken, I might remain.
But that is exactly opposite what Christ has come to do. He has not come to make me an ascetic–free from all but myself–but to make me nonexistent. His dream is not that I HAVE less but that I BE less–in the sense that every jot of identity that I hold of my own and apart from Him is completely and utterly destroyed.
Thus is my struggle. Even in denying itself, my flesh seeks to save itself. If the bewitched self should be destroyed, surely a more noble self remains.
O what folly I am consumed by–to think that something worthwhile dwells in me. For in me dwells no good thing. My righteousness is as filthy rags. Every thought and intention of my heart is evil.
Lord, I do not want You to destroy myself, but please do. I do not want my desires to be denied, but let them be. I do not want to be cut away, but I desire that You would be shown a great. So I bow this clay to the Potter’s hand and only beg that in my place You leave Your image.
Romantic: imaginative but impractical; visionary; not based on fact; imaginary or fictitious
There is no doubt about it. I am a romantic. I’ve always been one with my nose in a book, living my life through the idealistic lens of the fictional world.
Romanticism has served me well for many years. It influences my perception of foods, of cultural items, of the entire world around me. I choose in advance what I like and what I don’t based on my romantic ideals.
I said to myself–“Beer is for loudmouthed slobs, cocktails are for silly socialites, hard liquor is for men behind doors with their cigars. Wine, wine is the only truly beautiful alcoholic drink. It is the ideal.” And so, I drink wine and enjoy it. I don’t enjoy cocktails half as much. And I’ve never tried beer or hard liquor. Romanticism shapes and tempers my taste for alcoholic beverages.
In the same way, my romantic nature has declared opera to be a superb art form, jazz to be a delicious musical genre, ballet to be beautiful. And I swooned over my first opera, listen to jazz on the radio, and delight over ballet. But all of this was determined before I every heard or saw any of these. My idealism told me my preferences and preferences willingly followed suit.
And so I walk through the world with ideas from majestic to mundane. I have ideals for myself–what I will wear, do, become. What is my list of goals but a romantic to-do list meant to mold me into my ideal? I have ideals for girl-guy flirtations. I have ideals about places, foods, activities, people.
And that is where romanticism fails me. No matter how hard I try, I cannot fit people into my idealistic world. Because people wear sweatpants and aren’t always polite to wait staff. People aren’t always intellectual and willing to relate the way I want them to. People, relationships, require work. They require a frank look at reality.
The ideal of an ethereal home filled with friends who constantly encourage one another falls short of reality. Reality is that we’re all busy and some days will pass that we won’t even speak to one another. A roommate will be loud just as we’re trying to sleep. Chores will be done differently than we’re used to, lights will be left on when no one’s in the room.
Reality and ideals collide and I must choose. Will I cling to my ideals and grow bitter toward the people in my life, or will I see reality for what it is? Will I lay down my desire for a perfect world in order to live with and love imperfect people? Or will I live the cold ideal–beautiful, but like an iceberg–sterile, serene, uninhabitable?
Occasionally, I have epiphanies–not regularly, but not infrequently either. Sometimes they excite, sometimes they challenge, and sometimes I don’t know what to think. Today’s epiphany fall squarely in that last category.
I read something that describe Bill Gothard as a cultist and, on a whim, Googled “Bill Gothard” and “Cult”. I didn’t really agree with all the stuff I skimmed, but I did start to remember some of the stuff I heard at the Basic and Advanced Life Seminar. About how milk and meat shouldn’t be eaten together, and how a man shouldn’t sleep with his wife for seven days after her period ends. I thought of how Proverbs seemed to be the basis for about everything–and I realized that something was missing.
And the epiphany–“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you travel land and sea to win one proselyte, and when he is won, you make him twice as much a son of hell as yourselves.” Matthew 23:15
For years I knew I disagreed with some of what Bill Gothard said, but since I also agreed with some of it, I considered him to be okay. Now I wonder. How different is Bill Gothard than the scribes and Pharisees who were so interested in all their little rules that they missed the Savior standing right in front of their noses? Bill stands and gives tons of “princibles” from the “Sc’iptures” as to why we should not listen to rock music, not eat meat with milk, have sex in certain ways. He teaches all about authority and foolishness and discipline. He speaks of family planning and courtship models. But one thing I don’t remember him teaching on is the gospel, or the character of God.
The Scriptures are not a set of “rules” or even “principles” by which to live. They are a testimony of Christ. In John 5:39, Jesus says, “You search the Scriptures, for in them you think you have eternal life; and these are they which testify of Me.” But what is the one thing that for all of his Scripture quotations Bill Gothard fails to talk about? He fails to speak about Jesus Christ.
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you pay the tithe of mint and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law.” Matthew 23:23
The month has arrived and, as usual, I am well on my way to becoming in a high dudgeon over something or the other.
The month, of course, is February–or in Z-360 speak–the “love month.” And as usually happens, coverage of the “love issue” isn’t as comprehensive or balanced as I think it ought to be.
For instance, what compels happily married people to declare to a group of single teenagers that God has the perfect mate out there for them? Says who? Where do you find a promise of a mate in Scripture? I’ve never found one. And sorry, but I don’t think the “desires of your heart” can be taken as a definitive promise of a spouse. It’s just not there. Statements like that do little except create disillusioned single adults who think that somehow God is holding out on them.
But bringing that up only creates another morass of indignation within me. For the response to my assertion will be–“I’m sorry, that statement is not correct. God does call some people to never marry.” Talk about opening another can of worms!
I do believe that God does call some people to never marry–to remain celibate. But more than that, I believe that God calls many people–all people, in fact–to be single for at least a portion of their life. And I believe that this call of singleness should be regarded highly, as a call in and of itself.
Singleness is not a waiting room for marriage–a place where every event brings you closer to the blessed appointment. Instead, singleness is a calling in its own right–even if it is followed by marriage! Take the example of my former pastor as an illustration. Pastor Rodney Hinrichs received a call from God to become a pastor many years ago. He went to seminary and pastored in a number of locations before coming to Lincoln, NE, where he pastored Rejoice in the Lord Church–the church I grew up in. When I was still in my pre-teens, Pastor Rodney and his wife Malinda felt a call of God into the mission field. They took on that call and Rodney stepped down as Pastor of Rejoice. Currently, they minister in Africa, India, and around the world.
Now tell me, was Rodney not called to be a pastor, since he was called into missions later? Did he not hear God clearly when he heard the call to pastoring? After all, that wasn’t the calling he ended up with. To say that Rodney was not called to be a pastor just because God later called him out of the pastorate and into missions is preposterous. Likewise, to say that singleness is not a calling unless it is lifelong is preposterous. Just because God may call a person out of singleness into marriage does not mean that they were not called to singleness in the first place.
Some of you may now be thinking that I’m going off the deep end–making a mountain out of a molehill. Surely it’s not that big of an issue whether singleness (even for only a period of time) is seen as a calling or not.
I contend that it is a big issue. It is a big issue because it effects our view of and value for the vast and growing single population within the church. If, in general, people are called either to be single for the rest of their lives or to be married, the singles can be one of two things–either they are “lifers” or they are “waiting”. The “lifers” we view with awe–How on earth could they do such a thing?–while the “waiting” we regard with pity–How sad that they haven’t found anyone yet. In both scenarios, these men and women are defined by their lack of a mate.
The “lifers”, having ruled out marriage as their calling in life, are now free to pursue what their real calling and place might be–without regard to marital status. They may explore what profession, what ministry they fit into–the purpose for which God has called them to singleness.
The “waiting”, on the other hand, have only one charge–anticipation and preparation for the day when their status will change. These single persons are given one singular mission–finding a mate. Little thought is given to ascertaining the purpose for which they are single. Instead, their current single state is seen only as a speed-bump or a detour on the path to marriage. So rather than seeking God for His will today in their singleness, the “waiting” population seeks to prepare themselves for the possibility of a mate, and to pursue the procurement of a mate. And when the mate does not materialize, the “waiting” are forgotten, discarded, an unhappy reminder that sometimes God’s plan doesn’t always fit the fairy tales we’ve created.
Why is it so important that we begin to see singleness as a calling–even if it is not a permanent one? Because until we see singleness as a precious, although perhaps seasonal calling, we will continue to marginalize the precious single people in our midst. Until we see singleness as a gift from God–even for those who eventually end up married, we will continue to waste precious years of our lives–years that could have been productive, but were lost, pining for a different calling.
Every new year begins with a resolution. Few are ever remembered into the next. I’m sure I made a resolution last year–one fraught with meaning, one that if accomplished would make me the most amazing woman imaginable. But, alas, I end the year with no remembrance of its beginning.
But its middle has been rich. I may not remember what was on my heart as I started the year 2006. Actually, I begin to remember just now. I asked God for a husband. I bargained with Him, almost gave Him an ultimatum. This year, I said. Let it be this year. But it wasn’t to be. God had other, better plans in store. He thought it best that rather than distract me with a man, He should enthrall me with Himself.
And this last year has been experience after experience of coming to know the One who is my husband, my healer, my redeemer, my father, my lord. I planned to get married this last summer–June 10, 2006–but instead this summer was the most pivotal summers of my life thus far in my walk with God. Because this summer I learned that I am free. I learned that I am clean and nothing I do can make me unclean. I learned that I am justified, and nothing can change that. I learned that I am not a quitter. I learned that I am not a failure. I learned that I don’t need to be perfect. I learned how to be a child. Because this summer, I learned that in Christ, no bond can hold me. In Christ, I am pure in God’s eyes. In Christ, the job has been completed. In Christ, I have conquered. In Christ, I am perfect. And in Christ, I am a child.
My weblogs of the past year tell a story, but only part. I must seek to fill in the holes–the places where the grace of God has woven a tapestry from the tattered canvas of my life.
January 13:
I told of my fears going to Jacksonville.
Could the church survive without me? It did. And not only did it survive, it grew. God worked in amazing ways within LCF at the same time He was working amazing things within me.
I wondered about God’s provision.
And He has provided. I accepted some loans, but as the semester went by, I discovered less and less of a need for them. I was granted the corporation part of the National Merit Scholarship despite my loss of the University part. I was given an extra thousand in Pell Grants. The State of Nebraska gave me a small grant. My parents gave me some money. And my jobs as Health Aide and Desk Worker have provided for my day to day expenses without consuming huge amounts of time.
I worried about having to grow, and about the decision of whether to be a team leader or not.
I did grow, and not all of it was fun. But all of it was good. So much of it I had to get away in order to learn. And God, in His infinite wisdom knew that and brought me to Jacksonville. He took me there as a team member, where I learned how to be a member of the body, not always a leader. And He brought me back as a better leader for it. Because my focus in ministry has changed. I no longer have to minister to somehow make a place for myself, because I know that I belong in Christ. I no longer have to minister to somehow save someone, because I know that Christ is the Savior and He can do it all. And I no longer have to work to gain the approval of men or God, because I know now that God is perfectly satisfied with me as I am. And with this new knowledge I can now minister out of love for God and for people, without shame and without toil. What a blessing!
April 29:
I spoke of being restless, listless.
And while I still experience times of busyness and times of boredom, at last my soul has found a place of rest.
My soul has found a resting place in You
From the running of my past
My soul has found its rest
From the striving-From the fighting
I have found rest
You are my hiding place
My strong tower
I run to You
and running ceases
For my soul has found
A resting place in You
May 11:
I could list my activities but not my accomplishments.
No longer is that true. For no longer fearful of finishing and being found lacking, I have finished much this last year. I completed six crocheted scarves, perfected a prenatal nutrition presentation and presented it three times, finished my last science course of my undergrad career, created a filing system. And so many more things, still unfinished, instead of mocking at me, give me reason for cheer. Three discipleship programs are underway, a quilt in the works, one more scarf half done. My room is clean, I am 7% done with making every recipe in Betty Crocker’s New Cookbook. I have read hundreds of books in the last three months and gained valuable things from them. I have set up a time management system. But all of those accomplishments pale when I think of the one thing I have not done–I have not done anything to deserve God’s favor–yet He grants it to me nonetheless. And that is what gives me the freedom to accomplish anything.
May 11:
I wrote of being old before my time.
But the most majestic work of this summer was the paring of years from my heart, from my face, from my past. I grew up too young, taking on the heart of a woman when my body was a child’s. Desperate to fit in, to gain approval, I clung to “maturity”. Desperate to save everyone, I no longer allowed myself to ask for help. Self-reliant, perfectionist, the savior, never fitting in, shameful. I was an old woman, caught up in a twenty-one year old body. But God taught me to rely on Him. He taught me that I am perfect in Him. He taught me that He is the Savior. He taught me that I belong in Him. He taught me that no part of me is shameful, because I am His chosen. And now I am young. I wrote that “an old maid is only a woman who feels the losses of yesterday and none of the future of today.” And that is what I was, but am no longer. I now see the joys of yesterday amidst its sorrows; and the excitement of the future spurring the possibilities of today.
God has been good to me this past year. And I know He will be good this year as well.
So do I stop making New Year’s resolutions? No. This time I have written them down, because I want to remember them. Will they haunt me or will they spur me on? I don’t know exactly, but I have a feeling that this year will be different. Different because I am a different person. Last January, I was an old woman in her last days. This January, I am a young woman with her life in front of her. And even if I do not accomplish all I set out to do in the year 2007–I will still have accomplished much. For such it is with God–“All things work together for good for those who are called according to His purpose.” And regardless of my actions, I have been called, so all things will work together for good for me.
There are four kinds of people who visit the Sawgrass Marriot–those who use luggage racks, those who use the bed, those who use the floor, and those who don’t use luggage.
Those who use luggage racks are the hardest to make out. They usually use only one bed and have no personal items out except for a closed laptop and an electric razor. These are the closed books–they cannot be read.
Those who use the bed are the busy business men. They have stacks of resumes, printouts of e-mails, and conference agendas strewn about. the unused bed is piled with luggage, pre-worn clothing, and business items. Several electronic device rechargers are still plugged into the sockets. The devices are with the owner.
Those who use the floor are the families who are splurging on this vacation. They sleep in both beds, sometimes with people even sharing beds. These are the people who are most likely to bring pillows from home. The dressers and desk are stacked with fresh fruit and cereal bars for breakfast, chips and pop for snack, and probably a package of Oreos. These people use No-AD sunscreen and wear drug-store flip-flops.
The final group of people are those who have no luggage. These are the stay-overs–those who live at the hotel for weeks at a time. Their clothes are neatly folded in the drawers or hung in the closets. They don’t leave personal items around the room, but the bathroom contains a large selection of shaving creams, hair supplies, lotions, and jewelry. These people use their ice buckets for wine and order shrimp or oysters from room service as appetizers.
Then there are the few that fit into none of these categories–these are the truly spectacular people. Like in one room I cleaned today. Both beds were used and an inflatable mattress was on the floor for yet another person. A small black suitcase sat neatly on the luggage rack with a neatly folded black bag beneath it. There was a neatly packed clear storage box of family videos underneath the desk. And on the desk? A collection of Usborne and Dorling Kindersley children’s books. A few pieces of paper with a young scrawl across them. A chair held a child’s blanket folded nicely and a couple of well-loved teddy bears. And on the nightstand, a note, written in newly learned cursive. “Dear, Maid Thank you for cleaning” (Here I turned the note over.) “our room” The note was accompanied by a tip, that for the time we had to spend cleaning their room was rather significant. That family, even though I never once saw them, made my day. Yes, these are the truly spectacular people.
I have been learning in my heart what it means to be justified. Learning that, as a justified person, I am clean already. Shame, for the justified believer, should be a foreign experience. It is only when we believe the lie that our justification is not complete that we experience shame.
It’s funny, in a way, because Austin and I discussed this very topic on the way down here. I regarded it as a purely intellectual conversation–never realizing how much the very thing impacts my own life. Never realizing how much I struggle in my heart to believe that very thing.
I have been learning that I am not Christ. I am not the Promised Savior. I am not the one who gives or sustains life, or creates order in the world. I did not speak the universe into existence. That’s what God did. That’s His role, not mine.
When I dreamed as a child that someone was killing my brother John, rather than trusting God, I took it on myself to be his life sustainer. When I dreamed of my friends being led astray to false doctrine that would only entrap and kill them, I took it upon myself to be the truth bearer and rescuer.
When the Daisies needed a teacher, I was the Savior. When no one would play the tambourine, I was the rescuer. When a Sunday School teacher, a nursery coordinator, a PowerPoint person, a middle school girls minister were needed, I was the deliverer. But I’m not. I can’t save. That’s not my job.
Lastly for now, I’m learning that there’s nothing wrong with being a child. In fact, there’s something incomprehensibly good about being a child. But I lost that long ago. I was still a child when I took on the job of a woman; still a child when I started to deny myself the joys of childhood. And now I am old. Old beyond my years. World weary and battle-scarred. I am an old woman at 21 years of age.
I was in the eighth grade when I wrote The Holy of Holies–an almost completely autobiographical story. I was in eighth grade and my child-heart was already almost dead. Right now, I feel like I’m mostly just grieving for a childhood lost and praying that God would restore to me a child-heart again. I want to see again with the eyes of the child who was “not meant to die, but to be forever fresh-born.” (G. MacDonald)
I was going to go in to fill out paperwork for doing laundry at Shands
hospital today, but they called back and said that the temp agency doesn’t actually do laundry and they need to run background checks on everybody–so it’ll be at least a week before they can start anyone. So I’m back to job search mode. Blah! And I already paid ten bucks to get a TB test done at a local clinic. What a bummer!
We had a “stick night” last night–which was basically just a time of
intense sharing, pouring out our hearts to one another. It was definitely amazing. I just can’t get over how God placed our group together in just the right way, so that we can all minister to one another and help each other through our struggles. God is totally awesome!
I found a job. Amazingly. I’ll be doing housekeeping at the Sawgrass
Marriot Resort. I think it should be pretty neat. If I understand right,
my wardrobe is a company issued black dress with a little white apron. I’ll feel like I’m wearing a costume the entire time. Our pay will be $8 per hour, which is fantastic as a starting wage for seasonal full time work. My orientation is at 3 pm. I’m borrowing Stacy Plouzek’s car right now and had my first experience with Jacksonville roads this morning going to apply and interview. The streets are definitely less scary when I’m in control of the vehicle. Riding with my team leader, Allie, can be somewhat, shall we say, harrowing.
We’re having problems with our AC–if the AC is turned to “cooler”
which tends to equal about 50 degrees, the room is frigid but fine. If
the AC is on anything more than “cooler” the room gets unbearably wet. Even at 65 degrees, the room was too humid to sleep in–our clothes and sheets were all wet. Yuck! But it doesn’t seem we have many options. Oh well.
My orientation was great! I had to sign about 50 different papers, but I managed to get it all done. Okay, but that’s not the truly exciting thing about the day. I settled down to a nap around 1:30 and was planning on about a half an hour. But then I got interrupted by first this and then that. Finally I fell asleep–only to be awakened from a now somewhat deep sleep to the sound of someone knocking on my door. It was Eric (who will be working at Sawgrass Marriott as well). He was wondering if we were going to leave for orientation soon. It was 2:40!!! And we had to be there at 3!!!! Yikes! Thankfully, we made it there on time.
Tonight we had a “rally.” Jerry Bridges was our speaker and he spoke
about how justification is by faith in Christ Jesus. He said something
kind of interesting. He said that after salvation, many Christians tend
to think that the rules have changed, that now we relate with God on the basis of our own performance. But that’s not true. Galatians 2:20 uses the present tense in reference to justification, saying “the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God.” Although justification is a past event, it is also a present reality. When God looks at me, He sees me as holy.
That was particularly powerful because I think I have a tendency to think that justification means that God stuck a piece of paper in my file saying that I’m holy. And at the judgment seat of Christ, He’ll look at me and say, “My what an awful person you are. Let me check your file.” Then after He checks my file, He’ll be like “Oops. This says you have Christ’s righteousness.” But that’s not how it is at all. When God sees me, He doesn’t see my sin or my old sinful nature. He sees Christ. Period. That’s it. I am righteous in His eyes. The end.