meditation on psalm 97

imagine

fire from heaven

spreading before Jesus 

when he walked with men.

imagine

the clouds around him,

darkness shielding us from him.

imagine lightning.

imagine mountains melting.

imagine the ocean unmoving.

that is a Jesus 

who would have rejected humility,

who would have come in righteous glory,

and every nation

would have fallen

in despair—

and while he will come like that someday,

he came as person,

as approachable as he could in those days,

so someday,

when he comes in terrifying glory,

we can rejoice

in the the king who sacrificed 

himself for our pardon,

who delivered us from

circumstance

and consequence,

so give thanks to his holy name.

talking about truth

 we've been talking a lot about truth these days.  

how do we define truth? 

do we own the truth we know,

 or do we merely believe it without internalizing? 

do we hold truth closer than doubt? 

do we live in it even without the affirmation of others? 

do we replace truth with conviction?

are the answers to these questions applicable to our generation,

or just me in my situation?

this isn't a poem, it's a pondering. a friend here at the training center has been surveying our classmates in pursuit of the answers to these questions, and he is convinced millennials and gen-z are moving to a place where doubt is at the core of everything we believe or become convicted of. we are a generation bent toward tolerance and flexibility and the idea of absolute truth strikes us as improbable.  

i am convinced of the absolute truth of God and His Word. i know that. and yet, when someone asks me, "what would science have to do to prove God does not exist?" i consider the question.  it feels wrong not to consider the question. does that mean i have a core of doubt? what does typing this say about me and my beliefs?

i believe the truth that God is love, because i have experienced it. i believe the truth that God offers peace that passes understanding, because i am unsure of many things in many ways but i know He walks with me every step of the way, and that soothes my soul. but are there places where i hold my doubt closer than the truth i know?

i thought today was the third

do i treat people,

all people,

like the image of God?

no.

not even all God’s people —

His saints, His children.

why?

i'm not sure, but i

realized today that my

son will be raised believing

a woman is what i am,

whether i tell him that or not.

and i want to give him

the honor,

the responsibility,

the knowledge that

all people bear God’s image, that

worth is not assigned by 

size, color, sexuality, or shape,

and especially not by his human say.

worth is assigned 

because our Holy God designed 

that body for that soul 

and He set that heart in motion 

with air He breathed from heaven 

and if that isn’t worthy 

of decency 

and respect 

and patience 

and gentleness 

and love, nothing is.

my son will learn this or he won’t 

and it will be the result 

of how i treat people — 

not just when they’re with me, 

but when their backs are turned 

and i in turn 

talk about them and what will i say?

what will he hear?

will he learn that people are worthy of his decency? 

not because he felt so 

but because God said so. 

will he see God’s image as holy? 

not just in the Bible 

but in the faces of humanity.

do I treat people, 

all people, 

like the image of God?

adjusting

 I thought it had been maybe a month since I last posted.  It has been three.

Hello, again.

I think I had hoped that if I did things "the right way," I would be saved from certain discomforts.  My current example is pregnancy. (If you missed it on instagram and facebook, Tan and I are welcoming a baby boy into the world in January!) What I mean is this: We waited to have sex till we got married. We followed all the "right" steps in building our relationship. We prayed over the decision to try to get pregnant and felt it was time. And I thought because we did all the "right" things, pregnancy would be a breeze.  I would be a glowing, joyful, worshipful pregnant woman, filled with grace and serenity.

There is not a lot of glowing grace in hugging a toilet bowl for the past 24 weeks. At least, not a lot that I can see. Of course, there is joy in the gift of life growing inside of me.  I'm amazed and thankful that God chose to give us a child, when I believed I would be unable to conceive, but those are big picture feelings.  Little, daily feelings are discouragement because I'm missing classes, mentally struggling with the concept of weight gain that doesn't look perfectly placed like the girls modelling maternity leggings, constant inadequacy and confusion when it comes to doctors and insurance and what to do when...

Where is the serenity in this?

Even as I type, I don't want to be misunderstood. I'm not asking for pity, or crying out from lack of love. The women in my family have surrounded and supported me the best they can from half way across the country. Teachers have been incredibly understanding with my absences. Tan has been amazing with doing dishes and laundry and keeping me updated with what I miss during class. The struggle, as always, is in my heart and head.

I don't have a pretty way to tie this up in a closing.  I don't even know if it's worth posting.  When I started this blog 5 years ago, my hope was that whoever joins this journey toward ministry with me would be able to look over my life and see God's faithfulness and how far He's carried me.  I guess that's the point. I want to share a moment where He's clearly carrying and it's all I can do to hang on.

june

 I didn't think I would actually post this month, but here I am - drinking cold coffee on my parents' couch after feeding and rocking my niece and nephew while my mom got ready for the day...and I'm typing into the void once again.

Realistically, I know this isn't a void. Way more people have popped in and read the words I've written than I ever anticipated (though the numbers are still few). Words have been elusive this past month and a half. Both journaling and speaking have taken concentrated effort that is difficult to muster.

I had goals, of course, for the time Tanner and I would be in New York. A few of them were accomplished; many of them never materialized. As we pack up to head to Wisconsin, I think that's the lesson God has slowly been teaching me this month. Slowly, because I can't seem to learn any other way. Too often, my goals rely on others' expectations of me. I want to maintain whatever status I have achieved in their eyes, and that has been impossible lately.  Not only have I been unable to achieve goals I think others think I should, but it has been made clear over and over again that no one had those goals for me in the first place.

Any standard I attempt to reach without God is impossible, and He is really only in the business of helping me meet His expectations, not everyone else's.

reflection

In two weeks and three days, I will be 28 years old. I will still be growing my hair out from an impromptu buzzcut just like I was at 18. I will still spend way too much time pondering eternity, life and death like I did at 13. I will still wear the scars on my feet from the surgery I had at 4. 

So much is the same. 

So much more has changed.

Here is a little non-poem about a cardinal:

there is a cardinal

that sings

by my window each

morning.

he flutters so close,

almost close

enough

to touch. 

his song is so simple, 

captivatingly clear. 

he’s alive in this moment. 

he’s breathing; he’s here 

and tomorrow isn’t his 

burden to bear. 

today has enough worries, 

more than enough cares, 

and even when it’s raining 

he has a song to share.

wilderness training

The last 3 weeks have been spent in wilderness training, as my brother calls it. The MTC calls it “Simple Living.” Tan and I spent the majority of that time without cellphones, limited running water, minimal solar electricity, and a litany of classes about teamwork and survival. 

Throughout that time, I kept a journal (like I do) and I wanted to share a few quotes that encouraged me out there on here.

“Yeah, I am a fearful person, but God carried me every step of the way.” -Carol C.

“You can try!” -Ezzy

“Do I treat you like you’re a part of me?” -Kris H., quoting someone else

“Conflict is a classroom.” -Jim T.