Sometimes, this is the most incomprehensible concept in the world for me to grasp and fully believe. God is somehow in this whole thing - in creation, in relationships, in the inner workings of human hearts, wrought with good and evil, in the births of living creatures, even in deaths, in wars, in awful atrocities. Not that God necessarily orchestrates evil along with the good, but that He is somehow intertwined with His creation. He feels the utter depth of our sorrow and experiences our pain alongside us. Likewise, He delights with us and is furthermore in a constant state of absolute joy.
The joy of God fascinates me. In Madeleine L'Engle's A Swiftly Tilting Planet, the Murry family is adopted by a dog, which was sent to them from the ancient past via tesseract. They name the dog Ananda, which means, "that joy in existence without which the Universe will fall apart and collapse" (L'Engle). Not only is God in all this somehow, experiencing, hurting, orchestrating, redeeming, and loving, but His joy holds the entire Universe together.
And now turn in your hymnals with me to hymn No. 7, Ode to Joy. All together now.....
Friday, November 4, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
The True Voice
I am your God. I have molded you with my own hands, and I love what I have made. I love you with a love that has no limits, because I love you as I am loved. Do not run away from me. Come back to me-not once, not twice, but always again. You are my child. How can you ever doubt that I will embrace you again, hold you against my breast, kiss you and let my hands run through your hair? I am your God- the God of mercy and compassion, the God of pardon and love, the God of tenderness and care. Please do not say that I have given up on you, that I cannot stand you any more, that there is no way back. It is not true. I so much want you to be with me. I know all your words. I see all your actions. And I love you because you are beautiful, made in my own image, an expression of my most intimate love. Do not judge yourself. Do not reject yourself. Let my love touch the deepest, most hidden corners of your own heart and reveal to you your own beauty, a beauty that you have lost sight of, but will become visible to you again in the light of my mercy. Come, come, let me wipe your tears, and let my mouth come close to your ear and say to you, "I love you, I love you, I love you."
Nouwen, Show Me the Way
Nouwen, Show Me the Way
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Oh the blogs we weave when time we neglect to retrieve
I have countless blogs stored up in the labyrinth that is my mind (and I don't mean that the way David Bowie means it). However, only a few ideas/thoughts are accessible to me currently-the others are hidden amongst my mental chasms and caves. I'm not really in the mood for metaphorical spelunking right now, so those will have to wait for another day.
Here goes the rambling.
In every new season of life, I have always been provided with a new Kindred Spirit. In my most recent season, that of Seattle, God instantly provided me with a new friend. Almost as soon as my request for a friend escaped my lips, there she was-Jessika (www.just-jessika.blogspot.com). In a very distinct way, she inclines my heart toward the beautiful, just by existing as herself. I always seem to walk away from time with her with that longing heart pang, of which Lewis speaks, for Heaven. She loves beautiful things, has a deep faith in God, takes healthy risks in her life, pursues her dreams, and loves on people. I like her a lot and I am thankful for her essence, which draws out a distinct part of my own essence in a unique sort of way.
There is a strange house that I pass on one of my bus routes to and from work. I remember the first time I saw it. It is along Lake Union, in a row of beautiful houses, with very green and plant-filled front yards. It is a typical 1900s historic house with a front yard. However, in place of a grassy front lawn, there is simply concrete. A concrete front lawn. No green. No flowers. I instantly thought of the N.I.C.E. from CS Lewis's That Hideous Strength. I bet Filostrato would have lived in that house and poured concrete over the lawn, ex-ing out as much organic life around him as possible. I wonder what kind of person actually lives there.
I have decided to pursue my masters in music therapy. I'm going to do it unless the hand of God stops me. However, I think it is His finger that has been nudging my heart in this direction.
I miss my Swingrovers, my Brianna, my Starbucks, my La Mirada, my Grace E.V. Free church, and my friends outside of Seattle so, so very much.
That is all for now. Lovies.
Here goes the rambling.
In every new season of life, I have always been provided with a new Kindred Spirit. In my most recent season, that of Seattle, God instantly provided me with a new friend. Almost as soon as my request for a friend escaped my lips, there she was-Jessika (www.just-jessika.blogspot.com). In a very distinct way, she inclines my heart toward the beautiful, just by existing as herself. I always seem to walk away from time with her with that longing heart pang, of which Lewis speaks, for Heaven. She loves beautiful things, has a deep faith in God, takes healthy risks in her life, pursues her dreams, and loves on people. I like her a lot and I am thankful for her essence, which draws out a distinct part of my own essence in a unique sort of way.
There is a strange house that I pass on one of my bus routes to and from work. I remember the first time I saw it. It is along Lake Union, in a row of beautiful houses, with very green and plant-filled front yards. It is a typical 1900s historic house with a front yard. However, in place of a grassy front lawn, there is simply concrete. A concrete front lawn. No green. No flowers. I instantly thought of the N.I.C.E. from CS Lewis's That Hideous Strength. I bet Filostrato would have lived in that house and poured concrete over the lawn, ex-ing out as much organic life around him as possible. I wonder what kind of person actually lives there.
I have decided to pursue my masters in music therapy. I'm going to do it unless the hand of God stops me. However, I think it is His finger that has been nudging my heart in this direction.
I miss my Swingrovers, my Brianna, my Starbucks, my La Mirada, my Grace E.V. Free church, and my friends outside of Seattle so, so very much.
That is all for now. Lovies.
Friday, February 25, 2011
"Blessed be the true life that the pauses between its throbs are not death" -G.Mac
I wish the pauses between my "life throbs" were not so deathly. Furthermore, I wish my life would not throb so sporadically. Furthermore, I wish my life's heart rate would speed up a bit.
And yet, in response, I recall these words spoken by MacDonald's Mr. Raven: "A man is as free as he chooses to make himself, never an atom freer."
And yet, in response, I recall these words spoken by MacDonald's Mr. Raven: "A man is as free as he chooses to make himself, never an atom freer."
Saturday, January 29, 2011
ouchy.
This happened today...
Thanks ridiculously heavy, swiftly closing, starbucks bathroom door, for slicing my fingers and bruising (and/or something worse) my fingers and their respective bones.
Thanks ridiculously heavy, swiftly closing, starbucks bathroom door, for slicing my fingers and bruising (and/or something worse) my fingers and their respective bones.
Friday, January 21, 2011
To lose one's voice...
is truly awful in either sense. Though I have had plenty of experiences with losing my voice figuratively, I had forgotten how powerless and frustrating it is to lose my voice literally as well.
For the past week, my body has been racked with illness. Racked, I say, because my body has felt entirely taken over by the "dark thing," that is, evil in molecular form, that is, pathogens. I have undergone the complete spectrum at this point: basic head cold, to flu-like all consuming achy-ness, to chest cold, to bronchitis, to sinusitis. I guess it can only get better from here, right? Oh please, Lord. May it get better.
Anyway, my vocal chords have been physically unable to phonate at all for the past 24 hours. There have been multiple occasions today in which I was extremely tempted to burst into tears or throw a mute temper tantrum. It is infuriating! It feels as if a part of my identity is gone. I cannot express myself. I cannot even begin to think about singing. I cannot communicate, and therefore truly commune with people.
At the restaurant today, I probably came off as a cold-hearted, disengaged bitch of a host since I had to avoid all communication with guests. And for those guests that insisted on talking to me, all I could do in return was smile, nod, and point to my throat. Ugh.
And so, after canceling a coffee date with a friend, getting work off at the store, and feeling entirely estranged from the world, I comforted my heart by reading A Wrinkle in Time...again. Comfort did ensue, as I was reminded of the simple reality of the fight between Good and Evil (the "Dark Thing"). I feel a bit like Meg after she tessered out of Camazotz and was racked with the lingering effects of the Dark Thing. Jealous as I currently am for an Aunt Beast to nurse me back to health, I was surprisingly encouraged and refreshed by the reminder of said fight and the fact that there is always hope. There is hope for this world, racked with darkness. There is hope for my heart racked with darkness. And, thank God, there is hope for my poor body racked with darkness.
Praise God for the light that "shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:5).
For the past week, my body has been racked with illness. Racked, I say, because my body has felt entirely taken over by the "dark thing," that is, evil in molecular form, that is, pathogens. I have undergone the complete spectrum at this point: basic head cold, to flu-like all consuming achy-ness, to chest cold, to bronchitis, to sinusitis. I guess it can only get better from here, right? Oh please, Lord. May it get better.
Anyway, my vocal chords have been physically unable to phonate at all for the past 24 hours. There have been multiple occasions today in which I was extremely tempted to burst into tears or throw a mute temper tantrum. It is infuriating! It feels as if a part of my identity is gone. I cannot express myself. I cannot even begin to think about singing. I cannot communicate, and therefore truly commune with people.
At the restaurant today, I probably came off as a cold-hearted, disengaged bitch of a host since I had to avoid all communication with guests. And for those guests that insisted on talking to me, all I could do in return was smile, nod, and point to my throat. Ugh.
And so, after canceling a coffee date with a friend, getting work off at the store, and feeling entirely estranged from the world, I comforted my heart by reading A Wrinkle in Time...again. Comfort did ensue, as I was reminded of the simple reality of the fight between Good and Evil (the "Dark Thing"). I feel a bit like Meg after she tessered out of Camazotz and was racked with the lingering effects of the Dark Thing. Jealous as I currently am for an Aunt Beast to nurse me back to health, I was surprisingly encouraged and refreshed by the reminder of said fight and the fact that there is always hope. There is hope for this world, racked with darkness. There is hope for my heart racked with darkness. And, thank God, there is hope for my poor body racked with darkness.
Praise God for the light that "shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:5).
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