Dyslexic Laments

cuz life is hard and so are words
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Flirting with Disaster

My motives are all over the place with how I interact with guys. Okay, one guy. And that’s about as transparent as I’d like to be tonight with the details, but here goes nothing.

I don’t like him romantically.  Spare time to nurture new friendships isn’t exactly flowing in abundance for me.  I especially don’t have time to nurture friendships with people of the opposite gender who think my deeply held beliefs are comical.  In any case, I’m coddling this kid.

Here lies the confusion. I don’t know if:

1. He’s a distraction from my sometimes dismal reality
2. I like his attention
3. I’m paying him mind so he doesn’t think I’m a rude brat (i.e. I’m people pleasing)

My gut tells me its the latter. Not good. I don’t want to confuse him as to what a Christian is. I don’t want to foster an unhealthy relationship. I don’t want to be disobedient to my loving God — He knows what’s best for me. I think if I would  press into the restless feelings  – if I would investigate a little further – God would reveal to me what is unnecessary about our spending time together. But I just go forward hanging out with him without asking God for permission. I end up stressed. Which is just what a perfect Father wants to His daughter avoid.

I heard Francis Chan say that  followers of Christ aren’t to straddle the fence. That we’re either feeding our flesh or we’re obeying God. That if there was a fence, it was built by the devil.

Maybe I’m trying to feed my flesh with this guy; that terrifies me.  And now I’m in too deep. With all clarity, I see that God’s way is good for me. That I want it more than I want relief from my suffering; more than the fleeting urge to be desired by a man. I want the life God intended for me more than I want all people to think I’m awesome.

I’ve been watching videos of some Bethel women singing to their maker. They look so courageous and free and in love. Like  they have the peace of the living God. Peace is born out of righteousness living.

As for me, I still can be found sitting on the fence. God, help me.

I’m immeasurably grateful for life after death because this one is searingly painful.

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Tonight I was happy.

I was just secretly eating tacos alone in my car like any other Wednesday. I’ve been feeling like a reject all day. For real. So then I started thinking about a boy who recently undid  my entire existence in his mind because I didn’t want to move forward with him–rejection.

I decided to return grandma’s call on my drive home. She left me a message earlier this week saying she needed to read me something.
Turns out, it’s very hard to drive, talk on the phone and cry at the same time. Grandma read me a sweet poem she wrote about me. Her little diddy mended everything. It’s so nice when someone thinks you’re something.

Jesus won’t let us feel like worthless gluttons for even an hour.

We Share October

My birthday was in October. I’m blessed with a ton of friends — a community that exhausts every effort to make turning 27 feel less fat, tired, and old.  I got a surprise party, gifts, fruit, calls + texts, and more forehead kisses than anyone would be comfortable with. I have SO much. Yet, a birthday card from my grandma is the thing that moved me to tears. Because it’s contents point toward the notion that love is real.

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I have a hard time imagining that God even likes me let alone loves me.  There’s no way I’m not a complete embarrassment of a representative of The Christ. But then I get things like this. Some words that read, “I love you forever and ever and ever.” And I believe the sincerity of those words.  They don’t make sense because my actions toward my grandma while I was growing up were obnoxious to put it gently.  My life was full of abuse and I was full of rage that, sadly, got directed at the one person who payed any attention to me. I didn’t know The Lord, but she did; it annoyed me. I lashed out. I tried to get under her skin by screaming well thought-out statements like, IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT ANY OF US DO WE’RE ALL GOING TO HELL and  THE BIBLE WAS WRITTEN BY PEOPLE, ONLY IDIOTS BELIEVE IT’S TRUE! My grandma never judged me or loved me any less. She just told me the truth and continued to treat me with all the tenderness one human could extend to another human. Despite me, she adored me.  If she can,  then why can’t the One who made me?

I remember something that Jesus said. He said if a kid asks a parent for an egg, the parent won’t give him a scorpion (because the parents loves the kid)!  And parents are people. So they’re inclined to evil. Inclined to evil, but still capable being decently awesome toward their sons and daughters.  How much more will God, who is love, give good things to his children?  (Luke11:11-13)

I ask God to convince me that He loves me on the regular (hashtag insecure).  As if remembrance of what was done on Calvary isn’t enough, He gives me a micro example of his sonic boom type love for me through the example of my grandma.  The God who owns everything wants to spend the rest of time with me. He did everything to make that happen.  It doesn’t make sense. His ways are backwards and upside down. He loves me. It’s uncomfortable because I didn’t work for it, but Praise God it’s what I need to live. Praise God for giving me my grandma to help me understand.

In a phone conversation with my grandma, I expressed how much her card meant to me  asked why she not only put up with me, but was so tender hearted toward me.  She quoted 1peter 4:8, “Because love covers a multitude of sin.”

Love does it all.

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Psalm 127:1

Unless the Lord builds the house,
They labor in vain who build it

For years, I’ve been trying to make my family my ministry. This  makes sense to me because they need something I have. Why would I not spend myself on behalf of them? But  I’ve felt a lot of spiritual resistance. Not a feeling like it’s bad to pour into them. It’s more like an inclination they are not the “cause” God intended for me to pursue. It feels like I’m taking the pencil out of an the hand of architect who is drawing up the best plan for the best house full of healed people.

None of our interactions seem to have The Spirit’s involvement. And for that reason alone, I’m relinquishing control. I don’t want to. I want to see this mess fixed.  But If I’m not successful in brining my family Jesus with every encoutner, then my efforts are wasted.

#kinda #sucks

The purpose of this blog is to help me processes my mom being terminally ill.  She was diagnosed with ALS last month,  but I’ve known something was up for years. Supposedly, she has 3-5 years left.  This is way messier than I could had braced for. Some days are too painful to deal. Some days are blissfully numb. All days are too loud to think let alone write.

This is something I can’t make sense of — I can’t wrap it up neatly in a box and present it to my friends.  I’m not ok. I’m far from God and distracting myself with willful sin,  I’m dealing with chronic illness  myself (way less severe), my frustration is leaking into my other relationships.  Everything has been so hard up to this  and now I don’t have any fight left. What I have is the knowledge that His word still stands, it’s still true, and it’s holding up my sorry soul.

Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  – Lemenations 3:21-22

The Hurt and the Healer

It’s the moment when humanity
Is overcome by majesty
When grace is ushered in for good
And all our scars are understood
When mercy takes it’s rightful place
And all these questions fade away
When out of the weakness we must bow
And hear You say “It’s over now”

– MercyMe