carkeek. so money.

I live really close to Carkeek Park, which is absolutely gorgeous and right on the Sound.  Sometimes I like to hike around it and think really deep thoughts, like what color I should paint my nails next week.

Ba da da deeee da da da duumm, nature! (in Robert Goulet voice):

disarming rhetorical theological question of the day

Am I willing to sacrifice my definition of a comfortable existence if doing so means that God is glorified?

No, really.  Am I?

I'm not even talking about something as life-changing as moving to a third-world country or living on the street--just a course of action that departs from what I would like to accomplish.  I am afraid to answer that question, mostly because I know what the answer is, and I know what it says about the parts of my life where I'm still doing my own thing.  God wants my wholehearted obedience because there is absolutely nothing about those self-interested choices that honor Him.


That sounds Debbie Downer-ish (and this whole post is a little oblique--sorry), but I honestly don't think there is anything more encouraging or uplifting to me than this kind of self-discovery.  I am beyond grateful that God has blessed me with the desire to follow Him, even when I am unfaithful to act on that desire. Every time my eyes are opened to the actions/thoughts/beliefs that prohibit me from knowing Him better, I am awed by love that is too holy to leave me the way I am today.



(Also: Three modifying adjectives in the post title!  Bam!)

goodbye self

Today has been one of those maddening days where everything I touch magically becomes worse.  I have tried to help people, I have tried to fix problems, I have tried to strengthen relationships, and somehow nothing has turned out the way I intended.  Kind of like King Midas, only everything I touched turned to lame.  It's a silly thing, but this evening, I really started worrying, particularly in respect to the helping people thing.  I have a couple of dear friends who are in difficult or destructive situations right now, and I so badly want to improve their circumstances that I'm beginning to feel some personal angst about it.

It's that perfect storm where my over-developed sense of justice collides with my (say it with me) love of control.  I just want to FIX things, damn it.  I want to fix them now, and I want everyone to be happy, and then maybe we can all have a bonfire and make s'mores.  (I'm being facetious here, but actually, that does sound kind of amazing.  Also, it took me like ten tries to spell "facetious" correctly.) 

So if you've read anything else I've written (and if you have, I apologize now), you know that I am overly fond of moralizing.  Well, today you get a break from my feeble attempts to make sense of things, because I have been reading A.W. Tozer's The Pursuit of God, and he sums it up way better than I could.  (I feel okay about quoting at length here, because I think the copyright has run out on this work.  I'm floating the copyright hypothesis because my copy of the book has some truly heinous cover art and was printed in a random tiny town in Kentucky or something.  Also, the entire book is available online for free.  But I digress.)

The self-sins are these: self-righteousness, self-pity, self-confidence, self-sufficiency, self-admiration, self-love and a host of others like them . . . Self is the opaque veil that hides the Face of God from us. It can be removed only in spiritual experience, never by mere instruction. We may as well try to instruct leprosy out of our system. There must be a work of God in destruction before we are free. . . . 

 Let us beware of tinkering with our inner life in hope ourselves to rend the veil. God must do everything for us. Our part is to yield and trust. We must confess, forsake, repudiate the self-life, and then reckon it crucified. But we must be careful to distinguish lazy "acceptance" from the real work of God. . . .

Insist that the work be done in very truth and it will be done. The cross is rough, and it is deadly, but it is effective. It does not keep its victim hanging there forever. There comes a moment when its work is finished and the suffering victim dies. After that is resurrection glory and power, and the pain is forgotten for joy that the veil is taken away and we have entered in actual spiritual experience the Presence of the living God.

Those are exceptionally tough words, but they are a wonderful illustration of Galatians 2:20.  Less me, please.  When I do things out of self (and let me assure you, I was today), there is no joy.  God gets no glory.  Freedom--and joy, and resolution, and actual "fixing"--is found in only in the relinquishing of self.  It is really crazy painful for me to type it, and yet I am so thankful that it's true.

(Side note: I did kind of a hatchet job on the quotation, so just go read the whole chapter.  It's fabulous.  http://articles.ochristian.com/article142.shtml .  Actually, you should probably read the whole book while you're at it.)

(Side side note: As I type this, I am enjoying the gorgeous moon framed perfectly in the center of my window.)

goodbye job

I'm still trying to process the fact that I'm done with my job.  I knew it was going to be difficult to say goodbye to my kids and my coworkers, but I was surprised by how sad I was to actually leave this stage of my life behind and look forward to what's next for me.  The realization that this chapter is now over really hit me on the last day of school, and there were tears.  Lots of tears.  Luckily it was really only my coworkers who saw me cry, and they already know I'm crazy.  No surprise there.  Nonetheless, "crying in front of my boss" is definitely up there on my list of things I never, ever want to do.

Anyway, I was trying to figure out why my last day was so much more difficult than I'd anticipated.  Like I said, it is totally expected and normal to feel sad about leaving some wonderful kids and adults behind, but that is only part of the reason I was so sad.  This job was an incredible--and totally unexpected--blessing for me.  I applied because I just needed some sort of income, and as it turns out, the money was probably on the low end of valuable things I got from work.  In the past two years, I have gained an understanding of special education that will be invaluable in my profession; I made incredible friends; I formed relationships with some terrific kids; I learned from some of the best educators in the profession, including teachers, counselors, and administrators; I met a couple of wonderful Christians who were so encouraging to me; and I got to laugh and have fun at work every day.  AND my bills got paid.  The point of all of that gushing is simply that I have been blessed beyond belief, and to be honest, I don't have a lot of faith that I'm going to experience that same level of blessing in my internship. 

Here's the thing: I know that God has called me to move back to Oregon, and I can't wait to spend more time with the people I care about there (and there are a lot of them!)  It's just that I love Seattle so much, and I just hate change and transitions and feeling like my life isn't settled.  So I know that God wants me in Oregon, but deep down, I don't want me in Oregon.  And it has been awhile since I've had a major move/job change/life change that I wasn't excited about.  For awhile, this made me kind of panicky: "Should I really be moving?  Maybe I should figure out a way to stay here!"  Then I stopped and realized that I was being really, really crazy.  Um ... God called me to Oregon.  So I better go to Oregon.  If I'm sticking with Him, then I don't get the luxury of deciding whether or not it sounds fun to me today. 

As with any major decision, this whole experience is really about who I want in control of my life: I can decide to be obedient, or I can decide to cling to whatever fleeting plan appeals to me today.  A friend of mine posted a Facebook status this morning that said something like, "I'm so glad God has a plan for my life, because I can barely decide which bagel and cream cheese flavor to order."  Exactly.  I love Seattle, but six months ago, all I could think about was how much I wanted to move to Oregon.  Now that I'm moving, I've decided that I don't want to move!  I hate to admit it, but despite all the angst that this transition is causing me, it's exciting to know that I'm growing because of it.  Shameful confession: three years ago, I don't know whether I could have honestly told you that I cared about God's will for my life more than my own desires.  Obviously I still have a lot of issues with trusting that His plan, whether or not it is "fun," will benefit me in the sense that it will cause me to love and serve Him more faithfully.  Nevertheless, I feel so grateful that I have the words to (clumsily) articulate and explore and struggle with these issues, because that absolutely represents growth for me--even though (1) I obviously have a LONG way to go, (2) I clearly haven't learned these lessons very gracefully, and (3) a whole lot of this learning has occurred only by the grace of God and in spite of a whole lot of resistance from me! 

I don't really have a good wrap-up to all of those scattered thoughts, so I will leave you with Paul's prayer for the Thessalonians, which I have selfishly commandeered for myself as I get ready for a new job, new coworkers, and a new living situation:

We always pray for you that our God may make you worthy of His calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by His power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in Him.  (2 Thessalonians 1:11-12)

things 7th graders say--volume ii

(Talking about leprosy)

7th grade girl #1: Is that the thing where people eat each other?
7th grade girl #2: You're thinking of zombies.

I'm getting so nostalgic about these kids--it's my last week of work, and my life will be so devoid of non sequiturs without them!

things 7th graders say.

7th grade girl #1: I have a boyfriend.  And I kissed him.
Gaggle of assembled 7th graders: Ewwwww!!
7th grade girl #1: Well, I didn't make out with him or anything!  I only kissed him once.
7th grade girl #2: When?!
7th grade girl #1: On our one week-iversary.

love

I just got back from Portland, where I was lucky enough to be in the wedding of my dear friend Molly.  Molly has approximately one billion wonderful qualities, but one of my favorite things about her is that she is equally capable of hilarity and honest, thoughtful conversation.  It's hard to find friends like that!  I am so excited for her and her terrific husband Peter to begin their life together.

So love is on my mind for a number of reasons.  Since I wrote my last post, I've been thinking and praying a lot about how often my fears lead me to seek safety from a host of sources--other people, money, extensive planning, etc. etc.--instead of finding safety in my relationship with God.  I have this theory that God thinks (and by thinks, I mean knows) that I am a slow and reluctant learner, because every time I am convicted about something like this, the subject comes up EVERYWHERE.  Seriously.  Generally it's kind of cool at first, like, "Wow, He really wants me to get this!"  And after awhile, it's kind of terrifying, like, "Wow.  He really wants me to get this."

Case in point: Immediately after the subject of safety came up in my life, a friend from church spontaneously started a conversation with me about HER lifelong struggle with fear/anxiety/looking for safety in the wrong places. Two days later, the topic came up in my community group.  Someone (much wiser than I) pointed out that the most effective way to dispel fear is to read, reflect upon, and pray the promises of God--the ultimate source of safety, because we know that His words are trustworthy.  Integrating those promises into my day has been really, really uplifting.  A couple of verses that have been on my mind quite a bit:

Have I not commanded you?  Be strong and courageous.  Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.  (Joshua 1:9)

And a perennial favorite that I would probably get tattooed on my arm if (a) I weren't such a wimp when it comes to pain, (b) I weren't such a commitment-phobe, and (c) I weren't kind of concerned that my parents would disown me:

Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb?  Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.  See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.  (Isaiah 49:15-16)

Clearly, there are some pretty killer promises in the Bible.  The kicker was this morning in church when we sang  "How He Loves".  During worship, I was struck by the reality that God's greatest promise is His love for us.  I could quote a lot of verses to "prove" that promise (Isaiah 54:10 and Jeremiah 31:3, for starters), but the ultimate proof is in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ so that we could be reconciled to God.  What could be a better antidote to fear than the fact that I am loved so deeply, so completely, by an all-powerful God?  Nothing, according to Him, because "perfect love casts out fear."  

I'm writing this all down in the hopes that I'll actually begin to internalize this stuff.  One of the harsh truths I've faced recently is the realization that my life would look a lot different if I really lived with total faith in God's love for me. I would speak differently, treat others differently, live differently, pray differently, work differently ... but the other thing I know about God's love is that if it can cast out fear, it definitely has the capacity to transform my heart and my mind.  That's the promise I'm reflecting on this week.

(Side note: As I drove back to Seattle and mulled over all of this, "How He Loves" came up on my iPod and I basically burst into tears.  I'd like to publicly apologize to anyone on the road in the Centralia area who had to deal with a crazy weeping singing girl who, let's be honest, was probably speeding, too.)