Holiness and Dissapointment

Wow. If you are a Packers fan you woke with a heavy heart from last nights championship game. I know I woke crying out to the Lord. It took a good cup of coffee, some Zelda and a great fiance’ to overcome my morning slump. But now as I sit at my laptop I have one question. What would Jesus have me do with disappointment? Even with something like disappointment about not going to the Super Bowl this year.

Solomon looked at his kingdom and said this in Ecclesiastes 2 “But as I looked at everything I had worked so hard to accomplish, it was all so meaningless—like chasing the wind. There was nothing really worthwhile anywhere.” The first thing that I told myself is that even if we had won the Superbowl it would be meaningless years from now. I had to put my grief and the game in perspective of eternity. I probably will be fine before I go to bed tonight. If I put my highest hopes in achieving things they will eventually fall when inevitably those goals are not achieved. Only God will never let me down that way.

But knowing that my hope rest in Jesus shouldn’t keep me from not hoping. It isn’t a sin to want your team to win. But when hopes that are not in Christ don’t come around, lean on the hope you still have. It helps it pass. This is easier if you remember your heavenly Father is eager to listen and you can cast your disappointments on Him. He truly loves you and cares for the matters of yours  If you are struggling because your team didn’t make the cut, He will listen. He’s happy to hear from you! He will listen if you feel it’s unfair that an off-side kick worked or that the Sea-pigeons last year! And he will help you become more holy through it. No jokes. God can keep you from bitterness or selfishness after losses in life.

Besides, there is always next season. 🙂  Don’t be led into discouragement. This advice is good for more than football games.

Trembling at Calvary

This is a very good Friday post for the upcoming holiday season. My apologies. But today I got to listen to a testimony. Part of the testimony was them reading about the crucifixion and torture of Christ. A graphic medical account of what happened to Him finally drove home for him that Christ REALLY loved him. As a Lutheran I was baptized into my faith as an infant. I later owned this faith. I was made a Lutheran that day. I have always believed what I was taught. I have never not considered myself a Christian. God created the world, we messed it up, Christ came and died and rose again… He died.

Easter services were hard for me. Staring at our churches large crosses displayed covered in Easter lilies.  One black Friday we were encouraged to write our sins on a rock and carry it around all day. At the end of the day we were supposed to put it at the foot of the cross. I refused. I kept it hidden in my pocket. I loved Christ for who He was. I didn’t need or even want anything from Him. I didn’t ask Him to die for me. I would have gone to hell to have saved Him. I understood what I had done, I understood what He had done and I didn’t accept it. I didn’t want my sin removed. I wanted to accept punishment. The guilt of Him… the perfect white lamb being slain for me… was crushing!

I knew that I could do nothing to have changed what happened 2000 year ago. It sucked. It felt like everything I did was against God. All the life I had was at Jesus’ expense. Each breath I drew in was one I wish Jesus had had instead of me. I wept at the sight of a cross. Communion killed me “His blood shed for you..” The pastor may have well have said “Jesus Christ slain and tortured for you.” I don’t know if I was saved. I loved Christ, I didn’t accept His love for me back. My life was not a fair trade for His. It wasn’t right. I wanted to grow up to be a martyr. Somehow in my imagination being crucified upside down, being eaten by lions or imprisonment would make it okay and say “Okay Jesus, maybe… maybe it is okay for me to let you die for me now.” If I died for Him we would be square.

If you know me at all you know the self hate I suffered with this. I wanted to know I was loved. I only saw bullies, a mom asleep and a dad at work. I didn’t hear I love you or I am proud of you. I heard  “You have Major Depression” “You have Seasonal Depression,” “You have ADHD” and “You have Trichatillamania.” They may as well have said you are broken, you are unloveable and you need fixed.  I hated myself and there were names for the reasons why. Not only was my existence a sin, I was a terrible human being. One who was bad at school, couldn’t clean her room and whose parents largely ignored her when they got home from work. Or at least that is how it felt. Now that I am older I understand how hard it is to give love in a way that people will receive it. I know that they were trying. But I wasn’t getting that. I was mad. I didn’t want life. Not eternal life, not human life. I wasn’t worthy of human love and I certainly wasn’t worthy of perfect love.

I didn’t understand. No one pulled me aside and explained that what Jesus did on the cross made me a new person. One is has incredible worth. I wasn’t defined by my ratted hair, skinned knees, bad grades or control issues. I was free. I was who God made me to be. I was in Christ and there was no sin or condemnation in me. I was in Christ and there are no defects in Christ. I was free. I guess memorizing John 3:16 won’t always give you that. I got that He loved us. I got that. I also got that we killed Him. But Jesus doesn’t see me as his murderer. Even when I was angry at Him. Even when I prayed every night that a loving God wouldn’t wake me up. Ever. He would let me stop existing.

I didn’t want to go to school. At school my understanding of who I was seeped into all my relationships. I was convinced to serve Christ I had to be the least. This wasn’t hard. I felt like the least. In my family, at home, in the whole world even. So it was easy to put others first. I was nothing. Maybe if I served and gave all I had (like a martyr) I would at least do some good with my worthless life. I said yes to things I should have said no to. Just because what others wanted was always greater than my happiness. I am so thankful that I didn’t get into worse trouble than I did. God is good. Always. But treating myself like dirt in efforts to make others happier didn’t make me hate myself any less. It felt worse.

I don’t remember how I started cutting. I think I might have gotten the idea from Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul. I stole razors from my dad’s shop and borrowed exacto knives from the art room. I took wire from binders in my notebook to skin and borrowed steak knives when those are not an option. I used erasers to give myself burns on youth trips. I felt better… sorta. Short term at least.  I felt something. Pain is something. I think I also felt a relief that I was getting what I felt I deserved. That is was fitting. I controlled the pain. The empty feeling after. I had relief. I had an outlet for all my anger and self hate.  I was guilty. What love I was capable of seeing from my friends and family I didn’t want.

I think I accepted love from my family and my heavenly father when no one was even talking about Him. I wasn’t in church, I wasn’t reading about Him and I wasn’t being told by a friend. I felt a new pain… it was called compassion. I didn’t understand compassion. I always imagined Jesus’s blood dripping down Golgotha and spelling “Your Fault.” Jesus loved me. He was happy to do what pained Him. Like my parents were more than willing to drive hours every day to see me and put thier lives on hold. When I looked at my parents crying in my mental ward I felt compassion. I was hurting them and they thought I was worth it anyways. I understood their sacrifices for me and I didn’t see their faults. When we focus on our shortcomings that is often how we see other people. I got it. Jesus thought I was worth it. Yes He suffered, but He was glad to. God was glad to bless me. He wanted to. Just like my parents wanted to bless me with a full life so did Jesus. At any cost.

I thought my parents looked at me the same way I thought Christ looked at me. I saw Christ on the cross, thorn crown and tortured doing the things he did because He had to. It was against His nature or something not to die for us. Never had I imagined that my parents might have thought that I amounted to anything. Never had I thought that maybe Jesus saw something worthwhile. Maybe I was more than what I thought of myself. Maybe I was more than a flunkie, self-harming, self-hating, awkward, depressed, friendless, loser. Maybe… maybe there was something new and exciting in me waiting to be embraced and known by me.

I am worth it. I don’t believe God make mistakes. I don’t believe He can be wrong. I don’t know how long it took to seep in after my first feel of compassion. It was no mistake that He died for me. If His plan is that I am worth it than I am. Period. I am still learning. I still sometimes can’t see my new identity. I still sometimes focus on the sin I used to be defined by. Jesus opens my eyes to sin to free me. It was Satan who made my focus on my old self in a way that just made me sit in my dead parts. Satan uses self reflection to lead us to despair and hopelessness. Satan wants to convince me I am a sinner. A loser. A nobody. Jesus wants me to see that I am a saint, someone worth dying for and as His child. When I look to Calvary and the malice, horror and violence that Christ endured I still tremble. I likely always will. Lutheran’s love focusing on the crucifixion and I always will. I hate people to skip to the joy of the resurrection and never feel that genuine grief for what our Lord endured. I cry because of the gravity of what He did. He didn’t have to. But He did. I weep because my Lord felt extreme pain, that He had to feel rejection, that He had to suffer so. I now pair it with the joy and love Christ also showed on that day and my new identity.

I know love. I accept it. I haven’t always. I only understood it once.

I still think the confession in the small Catechism Martin Luther wrote that appeared in the Catechism five years after his death is true. This is the 1986 translation.

We pray in this petition that our Father in heaven would not look upon our sins, nor deny such petitions on account of them; for we are worthy of none of the things for which we pray, neither have we deserved them; but that He would grant them all to us by grace; for we daily sin much, and indeed deserve nothing but punishment. So will we verily, on our part, also heartily forgive and also readily do good to those who sin against us.

I think that passage used to sum up my entire understanding of God. I doubt I ever encountered this exact passage in my Catechism. I do know that I learned that from what I was taught. I later learned more about who I am “In Christ” in college and a bit in my later high school life. Jesus loves me for who I am. Not because He had to. He died for me because I am His friend. Just like I would lay down my life for my friends. “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” (2 Corinthians 5:17) 

The old me is real. She exist. But she is a temporary shadow, an imaginary stain on who I am. I didn’t deserve what Christ did. But I am worth it.. because I am His and my story is of the redemption I have in Him. As a saint I lament, I repent and I tremble at Calvary. I do not resent what Christ accomplished in me.

Am I a Corinth Woman?

I ran into a conversation where I realized that I took a view on a passage with a lot of implications in my life with very little research. It is one of those passages about women that  always get people worked up. If these passages make you worry, it could be the Holy Spirit convicting you of something. Maybe Jesus does want you to spend less time on your appearance or put less importance on your outward image. I know I have reexamined how much I care about my appearance against how much I care about a quiet Spirit and being like Christ.

In the first century women spent hours on their hair to parade their hair around. Read this quote:

Talk about high maintenance! During the late first century, the Flavian style of Julia, daughter of Titus fashioned the court with curls arranged on crescent-shaped wire frames. The back hair was divided into sections, braided, then curled. Sometimes the hair was coiled without braiding (see Roman…, 2002).

Now, if you know me, I wear no make up, very little jewelry and almost refuse to buy anything at full price. That being said, I am semi-informed of current trends and enjoy new items in my wardrobe. Now, does 1 Timothy 2:9 talk about something spiritual or physical?  Weigh the following passages in as well:

…in like manner also, that the women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with propriety and moderation, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly clothing, but, which is proper for women professing godliness, with good works (1 Timothy 2:9-10).

Do not let your adornment be that outward adorning of arranging the hair, of wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel; but let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God (1 Peter 3:3-4).

I see physical and spiritual implications whenever the epistles talk about how a woman should adorn herself. We see that Paul finds our beauty should be focused on the hidden person inside and adorned in good works. And not in the physical things he list like braided hair or expensive gems.  This seems like a command,”not with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly clothing.” Seems straight forward. And yet it doesn’t. No Christian I know thinks long before wearing gold or braiding their hair. Is the church overlooking something huge? Are we all practicing disobedience without second thought?

Not sure. Maybe we should worry more as Christian women about how much the Bible determines to wear and how much culture determines what we wear. We need to find a balance and we need to remember the Bible is above culture. We need to remember that maybe shorts to our finger tips might just be toeing the line and not inside the lines of modesty. Maybe it is inside. It’s so hard to tell. How can I judge what is modest? I have had a few times the Spirit has convicted me to change. It might be okay for the rest of the world to wear leggings as pants, I can’t.  I change. I can often walk out my door feeling confidently covered with no rebuttal from the Spirit in me and still find that it caused problems. For some men nothing is modest enough. In some parts Africa you shouldn’t show leg, but breast are fine. It’s the opposite here. God cares about what is modest, not what is fashionable. Is it time to rethink our wardrobes, haircuts and accessories? Most likely not, but you should answer that question and pray about it.

Do I, do you, care more about our gold and hairstyles or more about kosmioi. Kosmioi is the word for modesty in the Bible. It means to be appropriate and respectable. It comes from the word Kosmos, meaning the universe (1). A universe has order and self control. It’s a word that means not getting attention through being flashy or showing flesh. Are we being flashy ladies? I don’t know. I don’t know how you can know. I just know if you pursue Christ your desires will align with his and that includes how you dress.  Think of the most Godly woman you know and ask her what her standards are. Ask the question, are they different from me? Why? But do not worry, you will hear plenty of speeches on modesty. I doubt you will encounter one on carrying a $100 purse while there are members of your church living in poverty. Plenty of rants on lust to scare you into modesty. We all agree on modesty (even if we don’t agree on what is modest) we never talk about if it’s okay to wear pricey clothes and follow the latest trends. For a man maybe this would be driving a flashy car or putting in to many hours at the gym. It’s wanting the wrong type of attention. Modesty is cultural. I can’t see how I can remove the Corinth culture from this. In some places topless swimming is nothing to blink at and in some places a one suit is a scandal. I don’t think Paul gave us a Universal dress code. I can show my knees and have no conviction. Sorry Asia.

Paul wants our hearts, motives and obedience, not just our gold ladies. You will likely never see me wear a million dollar silver necklace and claim it’s okay because it isn’t gold. I don’t think anyone who wears something like that is very concerned with good deeds and an upright character being their beauty. I think they want to glorify themselves.

My conclusion is that I am not sinning when I braid my hair or put on gold. It is sinning when I steal attention from the Lord with my appearance. I will adorn myself with Christ and I will not concern myself with outward beauty and I will not neglect myself. He is the most beautiful thing a girl can have. I will not be a Corinth woman. I will not turn worship time into “Look at my nails” time. I will not MERELY be pretty on the outside. Abraham gave Rebekah jewelry.  Oh well. It’s something you should look into yourself.  You don’t have to agree with me. It isn’t a salvation thing. It is a maturity thing.

I think the biggest thing I learned from college is a quote Dr. Ramsey said. “A mature Christian doesn’t ask what is permissible. He asks what is beneficial.” Are we clothing ourselves permissively or beneficially?

Alright, ladies. Here are some devotion starting questions.

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Am I A Corinthian Woman?

Is my beauty primarily external?

Do I adorn myself in a quiet spirit and with good deeds?

For what purposes do I choose to look as I look?

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(1) http://www.apologeticspress.org/apcontent.aspx?category=11&article=1210

(2) http://qideas.org/articles/modesty-i-dont-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means/

Spider on the Glass

I had my first really good “Jesus” conversation at Sozo a few days ago. A young personable man came in. He remembered the building from the pancake feed GAMe ministries (who runs Sozo) puts on on St. Patricks day. He told me how the man there told him about meeting Jesus and though he respected the mans stance, he also thought the man was a little off. He then straight up asked me if I was a christian and if the ministry was still there.

If that isn’t an invitation I don’t know what is!

Because he was good humored I told him that I was a super christian! I told him about GAMe and OMC and gave a brief testimony in a few words about how God has called me into ministry.  He asked the logical follow up question “So like a pastor?”

“A youth pastor, I wouldn’t want to be the senior pastor.”

“Why not”

He was honest, well humored and really asking. So I gave him my real answer, bluntly. “Because I am a girl.”

“Isn’t that sexist?” he worded it carefully. He could tell this was important to me and he was being sensitive. I liked him, I think the girl he was waiting for got a good one. “Sorry” he added in case he offended me.

“I am hard to offend” I laughed.

“That’s good me too, isn’t that sexist.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I wasn’t overly prepared for this. I told him first about the requirements in 1 Tim and how I didn’t qualify for that and that made me feel like not trying to take the head leadership role in evangelical churches. I told him that it would be disobedient in my calling and that I WANTED a man over me. I think that would have stirred some people. I think if Chris had told someone that I preferred a man in charge of me they would wrongly rise to my defense. I am not to be owned and I am not less than man! Correct! But not taking the highest position doesn’t make me less than the man in it. In fact in Christian circles power is an illusion. The guy at top is just the person is the biggest servant! He is a shepherd and required to lay down his life for the sheep. All the sheep have to do is follow. I think the sheep have the better slot personally. It’s not something I would have said as a teenager. I was disobedient at heart then. But the closer I have gotten to God the more I loved submitting.

Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes I want to go straight to the top and take over! Sometimes I know I could do a better job than a friend. I am only called to be obedient to my husband and I like man was made in God’s image. So when it is wise for me to take charge I will and I will do it well. Because I have the capability to in many areas. I just don’t need to be. Same with a church, I don’t need to I am not called to. Read Titus 1:7-9 that is the job description and it is talking about males. Now, I still am seeking a leadership position. But my authority over the church will be under the authority of a males. I told him I know there are female pastors and that I doubt their calling in honesty. I also told him I can’t be sure they wern’t. God has done far crazier things!

Then I told him that I was engaged. I got one of the best high fives of my life. I told him about the role of Chris in our relationship. He is called to give himself up for me as Christ did for us. That means when Chris rules over me, when he makes a decision he is doing it for my good. Because he loves me enough to lay down his life. If I am serving someone with my needs at his heart I am really serving myself because I am serving my husband and God. He is called to care for me like his own flesh. When we get marries and become one flesh when we care for each other it is for our good as well. The man nodded and told me that was interesting. Not sure what that meant and his date arrived so I made them both coffee and they sat down.

I think it’s scary for people to think that some people want somone’s authority over them. My God, my parents, my husband. If any of those people didn’t love me and care for my honor, dignity, needs and soul it is a broken cycle and it can be ugly and harmful to submit. Especially when our submission is forced and is made cruel.  But that isn’t anything I have experiences. Godly men are worth investing in.

So in conclusion, I told him what I do in the church is just as important in the Kingdom.  I am just suited for different roles and prefer different parts. For instance, yesterday as I drove home from youth group a spider crept down my window. I called Chris, it was almost time for him to be done and I was not going to deal with that. I could have if I wanted to but he was better suited for it and I didn’t want to. He could add it to the list of other dozens of creatures that broke my insect personal space arrangement. I was happy to let Chris lead in that situation and I am happy to have a man lead my church and it isn’t because I am lesser.

Taking a bunny trail, I had an event this morning where I interacted with a man who ran across the street to help me set up work this morning. He told me he was trying to leave his mistake behind and was trying to get rid of it. He was referring to the human being sitting outside the apartments that drunkenly called after him. He was a bit tipsy himself. He was reaping what he sowed last night. She followed him following me. Brokenness in a broken relationships where two people who cared nothing for each other chose to enter into a relationship of sorts.  He tried to sound like the better man who was paying penance for his ways last nights. He tried to make it sound like it was all her. But the truth is that he was responsible as well. Referring  to her as a mistake or as ‘it’ didn’t help either.  It didn’t make him look better in the situation as he was hoping. Explaining this wasn’t normal for him didn’t help the situation. He was supposed to be the leader, she was supposed to be wise. If a spider was on her windshield she would have been on her own and that is wrong.  That isn’t functional.

These may have been a bit scattered. I stayed up all night reading “For Women Only” by Shaunti Feldhaun and went to work early. I guess the point is that my name is Jennifer and I am okay with submitting to authority and I am okay with men being given a different type of authority than me. I actually like it. I can serve god mightily from ‘lesser’ positions in just as grand ways. I can do anything God enables me to do from anywhere.

My views on my roles of authority in the church are still maturing. Start your study in scriptures then go to better opinions than mine. Read Titus, Timothy, 1 Cor 14 and look into Pheobe and Pricsilla. Tell me what you think.

Pretty Insecurities.

This is a blog I am struggling to write. I don’t want to come across as overly insecure, or vain. I want to talk about my strange female need to not want to find myself ugly. It’s hard to talk about because I don’t believe my God creates ugly or stupid.  I just sometimes feel contrary to reality.   But I do think it is sad when people communicate with their body language and dress that they don’t care much for themselves.  I also don’t think women have to dress up all the time for any reason or look the way people tell them to look.  I guess I hope that I can adequately describe the unique differences between genders, the adequacy and value we have in Christ and the  dangers of letting our insecurities tell us who we are. Woman should be called pretty by people who appreciate them wholly, but we shouldn’t look to it to make us feel whole.

I was watching Firefly and Kaylee, the beloved good natured mechanic said “Wash, Tell me I am pretty.” She was looking at all the people coupled off and she needed to know she was pretty in that moment. Like all the girls with their admiring fellas. Wash of course gave a hilarious response. My heart went out to that character in that moment. She had one occasion to dress up for the entire one season of Firefly and no one there to appreciate it. She craved the ‘pretty’ dress in the window and when she got it, no one told her she was pretty. She wanted that dress. Why? To feel beautiful. The actress who plays Kaylee is beautiful and we all know Kaylee has a beautiful heart and is content being covered in spaceship oil most of the time. She shouldn’t need to be told she is pretty. The truth is self evident… just not to her.

In middle school and high school I was that girl with the ratty hair, pajama bottoms and baggy clothes. No one ever told me I was pretty and why would they? By media standards I wasn’t.  I was pretty, I just wasn’t projecting it. I am not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me, I have almost fully embraced the awkwardness of my youth. I am telling you this because it is something I still need to hear. Even if I now project it and even if people have started to bother to tell me fairly frequently.

Speaking for myself as a woman, there is nothing like a GENUINE compliment. Never only compliment a girl on her looks. She is so much more, but don’t think looks don’t matter to her at all either. If you can see she took time on herself, you can take the time to notice. Not in a creepy way, in an encouraging way. Thanks to the world my value is always under scrutiny. Thanks to Christ I know my value will never be tied to what I am really worth. I have complete righteousness. I have nothing to fear and my value is more than many sparrows (Matt 10:31 has always been one of my favorites. Also see Gal 2:20) But I openly confess that I need to  affirmed of my beauty every now and then. I have noticed that my female friends need it too. We want to know we are beautiful. We want to feel loved for all of us. That includes our aesthetics.

Note: It does not give anyone the right to break us down to only our aesthetics. We can’t be separated from our hearts, dreams, morals, personalities, fears, faults or any of the other things that make up a human. If you tell a girl she is pretty and you only mean her body, you don’t know what beauty is and you can’t honestly compliment anyone. I know why Kaylee needed that dress. i know why I need a dress.

I do not say the following to show poorly on Chris. The focus is not his small failure but my large human insecurities. I have plenty of dresses. If I confidently put one on and tell my gorgeous self in the mirror goodbye on the way out and no one else compliments me that day it will always happen. Especially if someone like my fiance’ doesn’t say anything. His opinion matters more than anyone else. My insecurities will produce a wrongly perceived reality in moments .  For instance, yesterday I found a dress on sale. I wasn’t sure about it until a friend made me feel like I was on top of the world in it and convinced me to buy the thing. Chris and I had plans for the next day and despite the cold I wore it. If I wanted to be beautiful for anyone, it’s him. So jeans and flannel weather or no, I was going to wear it so he could appreciate it.  I never want to outsource the need to be pretty to anyone else. I never want to have to look past Chris to get validated in my looks, and if I rest in Jesus I won’t have to. I felt great, thanks to a dress. I felt great even though I had been down until I put it on, because I felt beautiful.  That could be vain, maybe petty, but it did. I paired my dress with leggings and a mid-drift hipster sweater after trying an embarrassing amount of other options. I had to find the perfect combo piece to adequately show the world how a new dress made me feel. Strong and ready. I was ready for Chris.

Chris and I got through breakfast just fine. As soon as we left I got a reminder. He didn’t notice the dress. Then another reminder, he didn’t remember the last one either. He called Jenna Coleman  pretty two days ago (It should be noted that Jenna Coleman is stunning) and the last compliment was two days ago.. It was over text and it was non specific. I wrote it off as him just saying it. t felt shallow and he only said it because I complimented him first.  I couldn’t remember the last compliment before that. In fact the last thing he said about my appearance was commenting on a mark on my neck. Poor man, I turned into a trap. I waited for him to say something about how I looked and played other thoughts from other times I felt unnoticeable. It was awful. A female hell.

After going to three places I started to cry. I had been hanging my head, frowning and sighing. How could he not tell I was upset? I wanted him to have the chanch to initiate conversation. It wasn’t going to happen. He HAD noticed something was wrong. Sadly the poor guy didn’t know what was wrong. I knew it was silly and that I can’t ever lean on Chris to make me feel whole. Only Jesus completes me. But I was hurting. He thought that I was homesick. The loving man knows the issues close to my heart, it wasn’t a bad guess. I finally cried. He just sat there in silence. I decided he didn’t care he was upsetting me and grew snappy with him for not asking what was wrong. I didn’t know that he thought he already knew and was just deciding what to say. He had lost. He had gone too long without noticing all the work that I had put into my appearance for the day. I felt useless and ugly and it was his fault. Or at least I was blaming him. I had spent all day comparing myself to every girl, hiding my bad skin and comparing myself to every female in every ad. Our look obsessed culture isn’t kind to us when we start to scrutinize yourself. Was he to busy noticing them? Or did I just not measure up to them? When I finally asked him why he didn’t care that he upset me he was rightly confused. “I upset you?” Something so clear to me had not even crossed his mind. He thought I missed my dad. He hadn’t realized it was so important to notice I got a new dress. It told me he didn’t look at me and if he didn’t look at me when I felt my prettiest, in a new dress, when would he? Oh the dangers of assumptions!

In the end, I guess this a confession. Sometimes I am not satisfied with who I am in Christ. Its complicated because I think I was designed to be loved and to feel that way. I think fiance’s ought to tell me I am pretty (and he does) . But that I can’t bank on it. That my worth will never decrease. I wish I could tell you I am always content with Christ in me alone. The point of this blog is to reflect on my Christian walk. I have  been reflecting on this. I don’t like it, but I don’t think it’s ALL bad. I have a natural need to feel loved. I just need to balance that need with the knowledge that I am handcrafted by someone who really loves me. He loves me with a perfect knowledge of all the wrong I have done without . My worth is in that perfect love. That is a gift from God.

Because it’s good for you….. Eph 2:4-9

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God,

Familiar Noises in the Night and the First hour.

I woke with a broken heart. It would be trendy to say it was because today is September 11. Although I am still woeful for all the broken families and all the fissures still rippling through our country from that day, that isn’t it. Last night as I entered our laundry room I heard a bump upstairs. My crazy brain for some reason thought this sounded like my father upstairs. I got excited, then depressed. It hit me. The smell of vanilla candles, big comfy red couches, a friendly cat, a big tree over a deck and white coffee cups. I want to go home. Not heaven home for once, home being my parents house. I am not sure when I will get to revisit my home town and I admit that in the quiet moments after opening Sozo I can only think of home. Of visiting one of my home towns seven restaurants. I am not sure when I will get to relive memories of coffee with dad in the morning, lunch with mom after church or of movies late at night as a family.  So many memories of sleepovers, track meets, bike rides, block parties and all of the other bits that make up me barricade my thoughts. All of this because of one bump in the night.

I have to wonder what it means. This is my first year officially out of my parents home and I wonder if I am really ready to be an adult or the simple love I have for my family just hasn’t had an outlet in awhile. What does this mean if I think about being married next summer. What does it mean if I just need to be held by my father for a moment and spend some quiet time with mom watching a movie on the sofa? Am I still a child? Am I depressed? Or is this a normal sadness? I guess only time will tell. If I am like this next week I will have to call it what it is. Depression. But not all sadness is depression. It takes someone who has years of experiencing both to tell the difference, but there is one. Sadness is normal. It’s triggered by something. It tells you something is wrong. A friend is dead, you are hurt. It’s a human way of dealing with pain of one form or another. Depression is heavier. It can be triggered by normal sadness but it holds you for long hours, days and weeks. It warps the way you look at grief.  It strips you of hope and its more than a reaction. Its a reaction plus some.

So what will I do about today?  Well for starters, I will master my super white, behind the counter dance while I wait for a customer. I will find the perfect happy coffee hipster mix on Spotify (I think I nailed it this morning) and I will look to the Psalms. If anyone knows homesickness and grief it  is the often lonely heros of the Bible.  If they found hope in their situations, I can find hope for my first hour.

Psalm 121

¹ I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;
⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;
⁸ the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.

SOZO means to save.

If you have been reading my post you know that I work at Spaghetti Works. I have toiled bravely and have made enough Alfredo for a lifetime. I have burns and lines under my eyes to show for it. Sometimes I was depressed over it because it simply brings me no joy to go to work. This is about to change. If you are Mr. Peterson I realized if I am making a special post Monday then this should be shared first.

GAMe ministries in Omaha (check them out) is taking their coffee shop full time. On the same night I returned from work in tears with an unsureness of how much longer I could withstand my job. I didn’t even know if I was going to GAMe that night. All my roommates were but I had stepped into my depression and I wasn’t keen on leaving. But my roommate was patient and waited for me to come around even though it made her late.  The first cantonment was a new one. Not one about volleyball on Thursday.  They needed someone to be the other person for SOZO. They needed someone who loved Jesus, coffee and music. Those happen to be my favorite things in the world. You are only missing books and clothes on that list really.  This was the ministry job I had been praying for.  My roommate next to me elbowed me in the side. Her elbow said “Do it. ” After small group time I expressed interest. I have no real skills in making coffee, only drinking it, so I was nervous.

But then God made it crazy evident this was his plan for me all along. Chad brought me to the person managing the group. He asked me if I knew David. I almost laughed. Did I know him? I was was a bridesmaid in his wedding. He reassured me that coffee could be taught, he wanted a ministry major who would be a talker to be behind the SOZO bar. That was me. They wanted someone just like me.  This job had a bit of a risk to it. We have 3 months to make the cost worth it before we run out of funding.  I was in the perfect mood for risking all I had for ministry. I had gone to college for 4 years to do so. I now had a chance to be part of GAMe expanding. There is so much darkness in the old market and I get to work at a lighthouse within it.

So excited to met people, make coffee, dress like your typical ‘too cool’ barista  and let Jesus use my new exciting position as he desired. I am already so happy to be looking for bands to play, for furniture to fill the place and mastering  frothing milk.

If you are in Omaha we open September 5, 2014. Please come see me. Remember to thank God in your prayers for me. He is being faithful to me and my actions to chase Him and my willingness to wait on Him. He is ALWAYS worth waiting for. SOZO means to save and it has saved me in a cool way already. It took me out of my wanderings and made my purpose clear.

The Problem with “home”

Home has meant so many things as I have grown. It has meant my childhood home across the street from my grandmother. The one where my first dog, Bart Starr, slept with me every night.  The train went by each evening right around bedtime. Then it was across town, in the place that  I got my first room to myself. I painted it blue.  Then it was my house on Crombie. The place my parents and sister still reside. Where I went from being a child to being something more. Then there was my college campus. Where I craved and devoured book after book. Where the rhythmic tapping of  papers getting typed, kept the seconds. Where life long friends were made and where each inch became familiar to me.  The smells and faces were seared into my being for four years. It was my best friend’s home when I needed refuge and my home now, where I live at with my new friends and we test the waters of life together.

Now home means the place I am leaving. I for a moment tasted my permanent home. Singing songs of praise, joining in prayer as the Body, exploring creation, encouraging one another, sharing meals, making art and learning more and more about God. This was a taste of the home I was made for. Now with the bump of the road, dark clouds on the horizon, and camp behind me I want to weep. A part of me is missing. The issue with homesickness it that it is me longing for heaven. I will never escape it til Christ embraces me and I Him.  I have tasted creation, imitated my maker with the labor of my hands and my lips have sang of his goodness. I have been surrendered by other children of the same Father and have been blessed by them. They have prayed and fought darkness by my side. The pit in my stomach grows with the distance.  I will go back home, but it is less like the home I was designed for. Less like camp. It is less like my heavenly home where we will share testimonies by the fire.

Or is it ? What keeps me from those things from being in my life outside of camp?

Potential is adventurous.

Her morning is set. Predictable. She will rise, take a shower and brush only her bangs and let her natural curl do the rest. She will make herself a dark roast cup of coffee. She is by no means a coffee snob, but she knows what roasts she like and will not touch it decaffeinated or less than black. She in fact is more picky about the cup it goes in. It must be an owl, a color that calls out to her in a moment or be covered in meaningful quotes from literature. Today she selected one with a quote form the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland. Her cup must be part of her life story for the day and the concept of impossible things is exactly what she desired. She will pair the coffee with half a grapefruit and put the other half in a sealed fridge back for the next morning.She will put it on a blue plate and sprinkle some sugar on it and leave it by the porch swing for a moment. She goes out in her pajamas and she waters her garden before the sun gets too intense and settles on the porch swing and rests with her fruit and coffee. If you can tell something about a person by their favorite time of day this would be the time to judge her by. No matter if she spent all night turning with her bouts of depression or just passed out form staying up too late she is always at peace in this first moment of the day.  No matter what follows this moment, nothing is wrong with the world.

Once this moment has gone on as long as it can she will look at  her phone and see what she has been missing in the world. She will get up and take her cup and plate to the dishwasher and ponder what to do with the rest of her day if her phone did not present a dilemma. Today it did not. She could dive into a book or catch up on Arrow or Firefly. Those were her current vices. Her peace would not be broken til she caved and put on clothes for work or going out. Out, was stressful. She was an extrovert, but she preferred it if people came to her. The whole world in her backyard would be her fantasy. She would spend a few moments before most likely giving in to catching up on Arrow or peering out her windows and wondering where a nice place for a bird house would be for later. She remembered seeing hummingbirds at the neighbors and thought about getting something for them. Peace.

Today she was off from work and looking forward to her parents coming into town in the evening for dinner. Two of her housemates were quiet in their room and two were at work. The house was still. She hoped the two in their rooms were as calm as her. Today should be a good one she thought. Excitement filled her with the possibilities of all she could do. When both roommates up they went through some more boxes and killed a spider. Now they had to vote on what to make for lunch. Yes, this was going to be a perfect day. Not even another spider in the laundry room could tarnish it.

Now, if her phone rang it could take her day in any way however unlikely. It could be a kidnapped friend, her uncle needing her to come help catch a horse, the president needing her for an alien invasion, or far more likely… her boss changing her schedule again. it didn’t. Besides one missed text from her mom and two from her boyfriend her phone had not bothered her in any way. Instead she looked at her porch and imagined an easel over newspapers and some acrylic paint along the sill for her to start a day. A bit out of her budget, but nice to think about. In the end she decided now was a good time to check Facebook and read some articles online for an hour. She had to pick a restaurant to eat with her parents that night anyways. Sometimes she would spend the day in a lust for excrement. Last Thursday she strolled into a tattoo shop and got a piercing on a near whim, one night at two in the morning her and her roommate went around collecting furniture left on the curb. Today she had no desires for going out. Just staying in place and watching Netflix.

She had only recently learned how to rest. It took her a lot of practice. But, she had come to terms with doing nothing. Even began to see how it helped her in the rest of her life. There was not guilty feeling for not going out and saving the world today. She would save the world. She had no doubts, but she did have patience. She wondered if Batman, Green Arrow, Captain America, Spiderman, Robin or any other super hero ever just took me time. If so, they never showed it. Maybe they should. She knew Raven from Teen Titans sometimes spent hours in her room just sitting and being calm. She decided she would make a good Azarath Princess and puckered her lips thinking of hero stories she could write. She and Raven would get along. They both liked depressing cafes, herbal tea, reading, scary movies and crafts.  She wondered if you could convert half-demons to Christianity. She didn’t see why not. She finnally actually got around to looking up restaurants in her area and decided to get dressed soon.

Yes, resting is good. It stirs up wonder. Wonder is necessary for adventure. She didn’t feel a pang of guilt. She was learning a new habit. A good one. Sometime learning looks like a mistake, but she was getting the hang of it. No accusations of being lazy would come her way. Peace is tool of the solider. She now knew that.

Life in Transition and God’s Will.

I am a doer. So when I look to determine God’s will in my life I look to what I can do to figure it out. It seemed so much easier in the old days. God would basically just announce it through a prophet like Nathan. I am entangled in sorting through the desires God has placed in my heart and the ones that are mine alone. David wanted to give the Lord a nice house like he had. I want to do ministry in Omaha. Sometimes we can be wrong. Sometimes we can be right. This is mostly because I believe in doing ministry where I am at and I love it here. I have seen God at work here and I want to be part of it. I rented a house with some friends after college determined to find something in the City I love. I am  just blocks from where I got my double Bible degree. That may help motivate me every day.

In all of this I have failed to ask what God wanted. He may have wanted me to move back in with my parents and apply anywhere. Still, I cannot bear to apply for the out of town work that God might be calling me to do. He could also be calling me to keep working 40+ hours at Spaghetti Works until He is faithful to me staying in Omaha. Either way I am serving my calling eventually. So what I have are two paths before me. Was being in Omaha a desire God placed in my heart or a desire that comes from the comfort of knowing the people and places. The old 80’s song often plays in my head “Should I stay or should I go now” though the contexts of the single line running in my head is VERY taken out of context. I don’t want to work where I am for long. But I am afraid to look outside of Omaha. God is good, I trust that His ways. He will give me my answer eventually and He will not forsake bringing me to Grace.

The hardest part of not knowing where you are going is living in peace with that. I am not in ministry YET. Still, God is using me every day. I need to take pleasure in where I am. Rest and be thankful for the job and all I do have. Yes, I can’t be content with where I am. No, I can’t be unsatisfied. God is always enough no matter what. So I will press on and keep trying to figure it out. But I will fight to revel in each day and all of its new mercies.