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.)

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.)

desires

First off, I recently discovered while looking at my blog that although I enjoy the process of getting my thoughts down on paper (screen?), pretty much every post I've written makes me feel like a total nerd for having written it.  (Typical reaction: "Geez, what compelled me to say that?!")  Not sure what to do about that except ... write something else I may soon regret!

Last week I attended church twice (because I am really, really holy.  Or really, really sinful.)  Two different services at two different churches in two different states that focused on two different passages of Scripture, and strangely enough, both pastors discussed the same idea in their respective sermons.  The idea: As a Christian, my deepest desire should be (and, as I discovered after some anxious soul-searching, really is) greater intimacy with Christ; nonetheless, my strongest desires are often for lesser things.  This struck me because it nicely sums up my recent struggle to let God take care of the uncertainty in my life when all I really wanted was a self-constructed safety net--you know, "just in case".

This week, I received an internship offer from a school district in Oregon.  This was pretty thrilling in a lot of ways, not the least of which is the fact that I've been obsessing about internships since December.  There are a lot of people in Oregon that I care about; I'm getting paid(!); I think the district is a good fit for me; oh, and the district asked me to work for them and all, so there's that, I guess.  At the same time, there was a part of me that felt anxious and sad at the thought of leaving Seattle.  I've met some incredible friends here; I love the city; church is wonderful; I had an opportunity to live with some really great ladies next year.  I didn't really feel ready to be done with Seattle.

And yet.  God made it pretty darn clear that, yes, I am supposed to take this internship, and yes, I'm supposed to be back in Oregon.  The pretty-darn-clear confirmation wasn't enough for me, though.  I let my mind run through everything I'd be leaving behind in Seattle and tried to think of ways to triage every potentially undesirable situation I might encounter in moving my life to Oregon (Living situation weirdness?  Friend weirdness?  Church weirdness?)  Like, "Okay, God--I'll trust You, but let me fix the scary parts first.  Then it's all You."

Safety of my own design--that has been my strongest desire.  I know that we are intrinsically wired to seek safety, but I am utterly powerless to construct that kind of security on my own.  As a wise friend pointed out to me, my strongest desire (safety) can truly only be found in my deepest desire (Christ).  I'm totally aware that this is Christianity 101, but it's also one of those things that I "learn" over and over without ever actually learning it.  So now I'm remembering what it means to desire Christ for His own sake--not because He will help me cope as I leave a place I love and re-establish myself, and not because He really does make me safe, but because He is.  That's enough.

perspective

The other day, I had a wonderful conversation with one of the teachers at a school where I used to volunteer.  She is a terrific English teacher, and I have a ton of respect for the way she runs her classroom.  She also happens to be a Christian whose relationship with God spans four decades.

So anyway, we had a conversation about how we could pray for each other, and then we just talked about God for a little while.   I was enthralled by the way she spoke about her faith--she was completely honest, sincere, and unwavering in what she told me.  I walked away from our time together feeling totally refreshed and encouraged. 

I was trying to figure out what made this talk so meaningful, and then I realized something: I can't remember the last time I talked to a Christian over the age of 30 about faith.  I love the church I attend and the Bible study I belong to, and I have wonderful believers in my life who challenge me and keep me accountable, but we're all still weathering our 20's.  We're passionate and we care about truth, but we have some pretty severe deficits in perspective.  I think what stood out to me most about my time with my teacher friend is her description of what it has been like to live and doubt and love and struggle with God through multiple seasons of life.  She has been praying for non-believing friends for years and reading her Bible daily for decades.  To put THAT into perspective: I get frustrated when I've been praying about something for a month and nothing changes.

This isn't to say that I'm harboring any illusions about being perfected by the time I'm 60, just that I'm coming to realize that it's kind of laughable that I used to talk about the verses in Hebrews 12 about running the race with endurance as if I totally knew what I was talking about.  And as someone whose beliefs don't match those of her parents, I am really in need of some "actual" adults (as I like to refer to people who have left their 20's behind) in my life to keep me honest and remind me that trusting Jesus is a journey, not a one-time accomplishment.

ceding the battle

(Just FYI, this is a really long and self-indulgent post--skip to the end for the redemptive part!)

So.  For the past couple of months, I have been consumed with finding an internship for my last year of grad school.  I sent out a hell of a lot of resumes and letters of interest.  I waited around anxiously for follow-up phone calls.  I had two interviews.  I thought they both went really well.  One school district in particular seemed absolutely perfect: I would have to move, but I have a friend who lives in the same city who needs a roommate; it is one of only two paid internships I could find in the Seattle or Portland areas; the interview panel seemed really interested in me, and the director of special education told me I'd be hearing from them by the end of the next week.

Perfect!  I thought.  Despite knowing that this district interviewed a crazy number of applicants, including a bunch of students from other programs, I'd already awarded myself this internship in my mind.  I was literally thinking about whether I should sell my furniture or keep it in storage while I lived with my friend for the year (I know--super type-A of me.  It's just how I roll.)

All of a sudden, my crazy-specific plan fell apart.  My friend decided to move back to Portland, leaving me without a roommate option in a city where I don't know anyone.  And tomorrow marks three weeks since my interview with zero contact from the district.  I even phoned them last week to ask whether they were still making decisions.  No reply.

This was a pretty big blow to my pride.  All of my classmates got a "no" from this district two weeks ago, so a lot of well-meaning people told me not to give up hope until I got a formal rejection.  At this point, I'm pretty sure they just forgot to call, which (because I am overdramatic) feels like a special kind of rejection to me: "Not only are we not interested in you, but you weren't memorable enough for us to remember to let you know we're not interested."

I'm used to succeeding when I try something, and I've had a lot of success in my recent life decisions--getting jobs, getting into grad school, moving to Seattle.  And I am TERRIFIC at formulating a plan of action and running it by God briefly before I jump into action, as opposed to allowing my decisions to be guided by how He might use me.  Looking back at the last few years, I've been pretty terrible at "waiting on the Lord for guidance" and "trusting in His timing" (Christian-ese!)--partially because I am a professional worrier and partially because I often (shamefully) prefer to use the talents that God has given me for my own aims rather than for the encouragement of others or the glory of God.

I know this might sound really legalistic.  I definitely don't think God intends for us to sit at home and pray until He drops something into our laps.  Nor do I believe that God intends for us to divorce ourselves from the gifts He has given us.  But I do know that to love the illusion of my own self-sufficiency, to trust in what I can do instead of the One who gives me the ability to do anything at all--this is idolatry.  And in my case, the feelings of anxiousness and failure I've had are a direct result of a flawed belief that I am inherently capable of manufacturing my own success.

Back to the internship.  Am I saying that I think that God withheld this internship from me so I could learn this great spiritual lesson and then write a wordy, unfocused blog post about it?  Frankly, I have no idea (although let's be honest, the blog post probably wasn't in His plan.)  But in my recent prayer time, God has made it abundantly clear that He wants all of my life and my talents and my plans.  I am to let go of the reins and trust in Him.  Scripture even goes as far as to say that God is jealous for us.  This sounds condemning, but what a blessing it is!  The Lord wants all of us--wants to be our singular focus--because He loves us and He cares about our welfare.  He waits to be gracious to us (Isaiah 30:18), and he will grant me rest if I will just allow Him to give it to me!

This weekend, God brought me to a great verse from Jahaziel's prophecy to King Jehoshaphat and his army before an important battle:

Thus says the Lord to you: "Do not be afraid and do not be dismayed at this great horde, for the battle is not yours, but God's." (2 Chronicles 20:15)

My worries, my uncertainties, my struggles against sin: these are battles that belong to God, not to me.  It is still a scary feeling for a type-A-er like me to relinquish any faith in my abilities, but luckily, I am sacrificing only the illusion of control. And it is such a relief to know that God's kindness is undeterred by my shortcomings.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. "The Lord is my portion," says my soul, "therefore, I will hope in Him." (Lamentations 3:22-24)

seasons

Hey, remember when I used to blog sometimes?

I've had a hell of a fall.  Allow me to list for you the reasons why:

• Classes.  School has been really, really tough this quarter.  The volume of work I'm expected to produce has been a lot higher than normal, which means that I often skip the reading, which means that I don't really understand what's going on or what we're learning, which means that I quickly descend into a shame spiral as I imagine my future as a completely ineffectual school psychologist because I DIDN'T DO MY CURRICULUM BASED MEASUREMENT READING.  You know, logical thought processes like that. 
• Work.  I had to cut back my hours this year to accommodate my practicum (see below), and a result I am (a) very, very financially stressed and (b) not pleased with my schedule.  In case I have failed to mention it, I just love my coworkers.  They are great conversationalists, they are hilarious, and a couple of them have been wonderful "substitute parents" since I've moved up here.  As a result of my new schedule, I spend most of my day as a 1:1 in a general ed classroom, which means that instead of working with these fantastic coworkers and the kids I adored last year, I spend a lot of time sitting around in the back of a classroom taking notes and/or dealing with awkward behavior issues while a bunch of 7th graders gawk at me.  Not so fun.
• Practicum.  It is very awkward--and oftentimes, very boring--to follow someone around and watch her perform her job, which is basically what my practicum entails.  
• Friends.  I've had some weirdness with a school friend, and because of the mass amounts of homework, I've been kind of socially isolated recently.

That's my list.  However: you'll notice that no one died, I still have a job, and I'm not starving on the street. In the midst of hating (okay, disliking) life this fall, I've also felt a lot of guilt (I think I should have been Catholic) about feeling so crazy when I am actually still a pretty lucky girl.

Now that I've told you about all the icky-ness, let me get all religious on you and say that God has been so, so faithful in the midst of my circumstances, guilt and pervasive bad attitude. When you are a hopeless control freak like me, it takes a lot to get you to stop trying to take the lead.  I finally got to the point where I would wake up in the morning and all I could do was pray, "Okay, God--I am literally incapable of dealing with this day apart from the Holy Spirit.  So please shut me up and let Him guide me."  It took a really crappy couple of months to get me to realize that I either (a) had no idea what it means to surrender my life or (b) I have been doing a terrible job of it for, oh, I don't know, the last decade or so.  But as I said, God is faithful, and He is working on me--one of my favorite examples is the fact that although I am NOT an early riser, I have suddenly developed a habit of waking up before my alarm with enough time to do my quiet time before I have to get ready for work.  Thank you, Jesus, for caring enough about my sanity to tinker with my internal clock.

mid-summer

Summer quarter is winding down, which seems absurd, because we've only been in class for a few weeks!  Two notable outcomes of my first four-week class: (a) I survived and (b) I managed to produce a whole lot of written work while learning absolutely nothing.  That leaves me with just two classes for the rest of the term: An applied research/program evaluation course (current status: killing me softly) and an academic assessment class, which I ADORE.  I've spent the past few weeks finding unsuspecting child "volunteers," assessing them mercilessly, and writing evaluation reports.  The data analysis and interpretation is fascinating to me, and I feel like I've gained a lot of insight into the learning process of the kids I've tested.   (Side note: I've tried to explain my testing glee to the "uninitiated," and I have seen a lot of glazed-over expressions as people try to feign interest.  You mean everyone doesn't find this stuff as fascinating as I do?!  I can tell that I am going to be a huge hit at dinner parties in the next few years.)

At any rate, the end of summer quarter has given me a chance to live and play a little more freely than usual.  Recent activities include:

• Engaging in my other favorite method of nerding out: Reading anything I can find on theology or philosophy, no matter how obscure
• Taking advantage of all the fun coffee shops within walking distance
• Witnessing the wedding of a dear friend in Portland :)
• Summer evening neighborhood walks with my neighbors (The love is multiplying: There are now four wonderful friends from church living in the building next door to me. I'm a lucky girl!)
• Enjoying random community events--parades, block parties, etc.
• Trying not to think about everything I need to do/pack/wash/think about before I go to Mexico in the middle of August!

when we were overwhelmed by sins, you forgave our transgressions

I'm trying to learn how to forgive in situations where the other person isn't sorry.  It's one of those last frontiers in my desire to maintain control over everything in my life.  When I've been wronged, when I hold a grudge, when I'm being self-righteous - those are the times when I feel like I've got some power.  Recently, I've found myself clinging to my "right" to feel hurt in much the same way I cling to my "right" to control my life.  It doesn't feel good to be mired in bitterness.

If I'm serious about trusting God with everything I've got, then I need to stop pretending that those "rights" ever resided with me in the first place.  I have been forgiven much - SO much - and with that forgiveness comes the freedom to lay aside the baggage I've been dragging around at my own expense.