Tag Archives: Friend

God’s Timing

Yesterday we drove out of the mountains of Vermont and headed back to Massachusetts. On Friday we had arrived in the mountains for Vermont’s funeral. Of course death is sad, but something about this death made me angry. On Friday night I couldn’t eat much. I just felt drained. I’m really bad at dealing with sad things. I just don’t like other people to see me cry or that I’m upset. Because of that, I couldn’t cry until ten PM on Friday when I was in my room in the hotel alone. I can cry to Jesus because he knows I’m upset anyway. What I really wanted, though was not for him to hear me. I didn’t want him to see and to take my tears. What I wanted more than anything was for him to hold me and let me cry into him until I was done.

Yesterday, when we were about half an hour from home, my best friend called asking if she could borrow my dad’s soldering iron to modify her snake’s tank. Incidentally, she also didn’t have to work today, so I invited her to hang out when we got home. When she got to my house my dad was in the middle of replacing one of my wheelchair parts, but when he finished my friend and I went downstairs, my mom went out to get food, and my dad stayed upstairs. I had been debating it, but I finally couldn’t help myself, or maybe I couldn’t stop myself. I spilled the beans.

I told her everything. I told her how angry and sad this was making me, though I didn’t know why. I told her that I didn’t like to cry around people as I started crying hard. I told her how unfair it was because it was completely unexpected and out of the blue. She asked me if I wanted a hug. I hesitated for a second, but then I said, “Yes.” She held me and I cried for a long time. Then we played a dumb video game that I’m way too good at. After that we watched videos of assorted big cats being adorable. Then we watched a kids’ movie. I realized last night that Jesus knew that what I needed and wanted most was a hug from him. Since he couldn’t hug me in person, he sent my friend, knowing I would trust her with this. I told her that in that moment, she was Jesus for me. She just happened to call, needing a favor at just the right time. She didn’t exactly know what to do with that, but I wanted her to know. I went to bed a little after midnight and decided to go to church at a parish one town over instead of our home church this morning because the other church has an afternoon Sunday Mass, and I wanted to sleep in.

I thought sleep would help me recover from my emotional roller coaster. My dad caught me crying in church this afternoon. It was right before communion. He asked me if I was okay. I said I was. He asked me why I was crying, then. I said I wasn’t done being sad. Both are true. I am okay. I’m just sad. I don’t think these are mutually exclusive. The Gospel reading today was about when Jesus is recruiting his disciples. The priest said that his mission statement was, “Repent and believe in the Gospel.” The Gospel is the Good News that God loves us and made a way for us to be with him forever.

After church I asked myself, “do you believe the Gospel? Do you believe in what Jesus said and did? Do you believe in the afterlife? Do you believe in Heaven? Do you believe in God’s love? Do you believe in his mercy? Do you trust him?” At that moment I truthfully could say “Yes” to all of these, but it was hardest to say “Yes” to the last two. At this church we sometimes go to, they use more contemporary music instead of the more traditional hymns you might expect at a Catholic church. A line from the closing song sticks with me right now. “Your grace is enough for me.” I know that’s true. I don’t remember the context, but I know that we are commanded to praise God even when it feels like the world is crap. Therefore, I’ll end this post with a few lines from one of my own songs.

I will sing. Hallelujahs. ‘Cause there is good in things. And I believe it. I can see that it’s true. And it’s beautiful.

Growing Up With Me

I just read a few posts from 2012-the year I started my blog. It’s interesting to see how the site has grown up as I’ve grown up. I already thought I was a Christian when I started blogging. The truth is, I didn’t personally know Jesus yet. I believed he was the God of the universe, and I vaguely knew that he saved the world, but I didn’t yet understand that he had saved my soul because he genuinely cared about me personally and wanted to be my friend. In 2012 I had some pretty funny, some good, and a lot of naive ideas. My posts were also a lot more varied in terms of subject matter back then, which I guess is neither here nor there. My posts these are largely about work and God, though sometimes they’re about stories in general or random life stuff. The blog has also largely turned into a way of procrastination, as well as a space to dig for treasure, and hopefully find some truth, whether I like that truth or not.

In the almost seven years I’ve kept the blog, I’ve learned a lot and I’ve gained just over three hundred followers. I don’t think all those people come here often, but that’s okay. This blog has been a companion in my many journeys that have taken place in the course of such short a time. It has been my companion through college, finals, insomnia, epilepsy, faith, hope, fear, love, and milestones. In a lot of ways, it’s kept me going. It’s been a place where I can share my truth, which sometimes, as ugly as it can be, just needs to be squirted out in muddy water colors. This is where frustration and triumph happens. This is where failures are confessed and victory proclaimed. This is where messes are made with the joy of a child, and I admit, in the grand scheme of things, I am one.

I write this as an encouragement to all my fellow bloggers, journalists, and writers in general. Tell the truth. Tell your truth, but more importantly, tell God’s truth. Fear nothing. Writing takes courage, and honestly, sometimes clicking the “Publish” button can be terrifying. Click it anyway. Sometimes we write something, expecting it to get us tons of attention, and no one gives us a second glance. Keep writing. In every circumstance, keep writing. When the world is falling apart keep writing. When you’re on cloud nine, write about it because sometimes the rest of us need to hear what cloud nine looks like. Sometimes your good day can be a happy five minutes for someone who is having an otherwise crappy day. Stories, especially true ones, teach us empathy, so write them. Keep writing, and don’t stop. Write without a reason. Write because you like to. Write because you know you’re good at it. Write because you think you’re good at it. Write even if you suck at it because it brings you joy. Just don’t stop.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

Yup…

Today I got up and my mom said since it’s Valentine’s Day she’d take me out to lunch. I just wanted take-out, but since she offered I agreed, to be polite. Unfortunately we had an appointment, and therefore, didn’t have enough time to eat a sit-down lunch, but I got my buffalo chicken wrap. It’s my favorite thing in the world, but it’s super unhealthy, so I’m careful not to give into my craving too often.

After our appointment, Seamus (my bird) desperately wanted to go for a ride in the car, so we took him to the Starbucks drive-through with us. Several of the employees there know who he is by now. There are plenty of people who drive through with their dogs, but I think we’re the only bird family. Plus my best friend works there, so I’m sure she’s told them all how actually nasty he is. He doesn’t like people aren’t part of his flock. He just looks cute from a distance.

I got some more of my mosaic done last night. I’m thinking I’m going to need a lighter shade of blue or maybe teal. right now I’m working with black, white, red, and blue. My dad was helping me and he was perplexed at what I was doing last night because I was kind of haphazardly putting pieces down. I’ve been trying to tell him that I’ve had a concept in my head, not a complete, perfected picture. As I get more done, though, I get more of an idea of what it’s “supposed” to be.

Kathy (the woman I mentioned in my previous post) did end up getting back to me. We’re going to meet at my house tomorrow. I don’t know why I’m nervous. I guess part of it might be that although the idea isn’t exactly new to me, I’ve been kind of skirting around it and now I’m finally taking the plunge. There’s also the annoying thought in the back of my mind: “What if I’m wrong?” There are really two ways of looking at it. God calls everyone. I know that, so either I just need to shut that doubt out for good, or if I am wrong, it means I need to figure out what he actually is calling me to.

Last night I came across this: “Every word we speak was taught to us by God’s Spirit, not by human wisdom. And this same Spirit helps us teach spiritual things to spiritual people. That’s why only someone who has God’s Spirit can understand spiritual blessings. Anyone who doesn’t have God’s Spirit thinks these blessings are foolish.” (1 Cor 2:13-14 CEV) Admittedly, there are times when I find myself thinking about things Jesus says or does, in the Gospels and throughout time, and I think, “Lord, that’s crazy. You’re crazy. I’m crazy. All of this is crazy.” This quote that I found last night just made it make a bit more sense.

Anyway, I have a bird to harass and art to make.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

Conversation

Awhile ago I found a little green book on the coffee table in our living room. I picked it up and started looking at it. It had a picture of someone hanging onto a cross in a heart on the cover and had that old book smell that I can’t resist. It was filled with super old poems meant to help people through doubt or fear or what have you. I read a couple of them. They weren’t really “my thing,” so I put the book down and left it alone, but I kept thinking about it. Why did we even have it? Where did it come from? I asked my dad, and he said he had bought it a long time ago in a used book store. He just happened to be looking at it on a whim. It seemed like a pretty weird thing for my dad to buy. I was never really under the impression that my dad would be interested in this kind of thing. I decided to “borrow” it, but I didn’t look at it again for weeks.

For several weeks now I’ve been trying to finish the third story in my mythology. It’s a very short story, but it’s complicated because it’s about how death enters the human realm. In my mythology, the spirits in various realms are the equivalent to gods, though there isn’t much of a hierarchy, and they don’t interact much with humans. In this story Death personified tricks Wisdom personified into allowing him to accompany her and the soul of a little boy into the human realm. I won’t spoil exactly how the story ends.

This story was hard to write partly because the main focus of most of it is the exploration and musing of a spirit cartographer named Anthes, and also because I wanted to write an origin of death story in which death isn’t humanity’s fault. I think it was hard for me to write because of what I believe in. Another reason, however, has to do with the action of a character in a previous story who created a barrier between realms that is very difficult to cross.

Every week my friend and I have Story Time on Sunday nights. Several weeks ago we began watching “Once Upon A Time” on Netflix. I can’t even explain how much we both love this show. It’s such an insane, complicated, fun, magical story that takes place across multiple realms. The stakes are high. The characters have depth. The funny thing is, it’s often predictable, and often not. The writing, meaning the actual script, isn’t always totally perfect, but I can’t expect it to be, and most of the time, it’s good or great.

My friend doesn’t usually have work on Mondays, and I can sleep late, so we usually stay up insanely late. We are addicts, but at least we admit it. This Monday he did have work, though, so he left early… early here meaning midnight. I wasn’t tired when I went upstairs, and my mom said she wasn’t either, so we considered watching a movie, but I could tell God wanted my attention, so I went to my room.

I don’t remember everything we talked about, but after a while he told me to open the little green book. I opened to a random page and found a poem written by an anonymous author. The first stanza was this:

Body and mind have tried
To make the field my own;
But when the Lord is on my side,
He doeth the work alone.

I don’t really even know why, but this did a lot for me. I spend so much time in fantasy land, whether I’m writing or playing a game, or what have you. Sometimes it’ll suddenly occur to me that though I love stories of every kind, and as scary, unpredictable, and chaotic as the “real world” is, and as powerless as I am, I want this world because the God that I know and love is in this world. While we were talking he said, “I redeemed you. I’m helping you.” I needed to hear that. I know it’s not just that he’s helping me with my story, and that’s not really the only thing I was thinking about. Sometimes he interjects things into our conversation that don’t exactly make sense in context, but end up being exactly what I need to hear.

I read an article about really listening to God. I’m not sure I’ve ever audibly heard his voice, but I can tell when he’s speaking to me. Sometimes it’s through song lyrics. Sometimes it’s through other people. Sometimes it’s something the priest says at church. Sometimes it’s through my own thoughts. Other times it’s more abstract. Communication doesn’t just happen through words. Most of the time we recognize it through body language or the way a song makes us feel. Sometimes God speaks through sunsets or moonlight or thunder or bird song (or maybe my bird being weird).

The truth is, God tends to be fairly quiet, but what he does have to say is important, and sometimes earth-shattering. It’s important to listen because he will let people ignore him. After Story Time on Sunday, I wanted to just watch a movie with my mom, but I could tell he was saying, “Please come hang out with me. I have something important to tell you.” I didn’t hear words in my head, but it was a feeling, and it was easy to put into words. It’s sometimes easy to forget that God wants people to just spend time with him. I’m learning that sometimes that means just sitting around and talking about stuff.

What does any of this have to do with fantasy stories? I love the idea of magic. I grew up on Harry Potter. I still love to have in-depth discussions with my friends about Star Wars or Lord of the Rings. God gave me the stories that I love. After Story Time, though, I often get that now fairly familiar feeling that translates to “Katie, can we hang out for a minute?” God gave me so many of the stories I love at his own expense. Sometimes I get so sucked in that I forget to thank the one who led me to the stories in the first place. The point is, God is ultimately the writer and creator of everything good.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

Say It Anyway

Sometimes I find myself about to write about something, whether it be about God, faith, my family, creativity, writing, or what have you, and a little voice in my head says, “I’m sure people have heard that a million times from a million different people.” Then another little voice in my head says, “Say it anyway. Maybe you can say it a little bit different so that it will click for someone in a way it hasn’t clicked before. Maybe hearing it this time is the last time they need to hear it for it to make sense. Maybe hearing it this time will help them to understand it in a different way. Even if no one listens, say it anyway because it may not matter to anyone else, but it matters to you.”

This happens to me a lot. Have you noticed that good stories never get old? I have watched Lord of the Rings, and the Star Wars movies a thousand times by now, and I could easily watch them a thousand times more. Every time you read a good story or watch a good movie, you pick up on different ideas or different symbolism. Different things take on different meaning and more significance. I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging when I say I can quote quite a lot from the Gospels because there’s just so much there and I’ve read them so many times.

The other night I was at Adoration at my church, and sometimes while I’m sitting there I just “talk,” and I don’t remember exactly how we got to this, but eventually I just stopped and thought, “You know, you’re a story-teller. You told and tell a lot of stories. Could you tell me a story? It doesn’t have to be anything new. It could be something I’ve heard before.”

Immediately I started thinking about all these different ideas about light. I remembered things like: “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then, the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!” and “A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under a bushel basket, but on the lamp stand, and it gives light to all the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” Then I remembered that while working on my novel the other day, I had a segment where Aven, one of my main characters is in prison, and he has a weird experience where he sees darkness, and realizes that this is what he’s seeing. This is significant because he’s blind. He realizes that there’s a difference between being blind and seeing darkness. Finally, I remembered a story I’ve been working on recently just for fun where the main characters have to find the Soul of the Light to break a curse that has been on their kingdom for hundreds of years.

There’s a part in Lord of the Rings where Frodo remembers he has the light that Galadriel gave him. He has sent Sam away because he’s been tricked by Golem, who has left him to die in the spider cave. Galadriel gave this to him saying, “May it be a light for you in dark places when all other lights go out.” When Frodo lights it up, he’s in panic mode. He’s desperate. For him, all other lights; all hope, has gone out. I really don’t think Galadriel’s gift is meant to be taken only literally. Hope is often symbolized by light, and light is even sometimes symbolized by other things. At the beginning of the Lord of the Rings trilogy the shire appears bright, beautiful and peaceful. At Bilbo’s birthday, there are fireworks, there is light. When they leave the shire, they are cast into a dark forest, and are followed by the black rider. There are many juxtapositions of light and dark in Lord of the Rings, particularly in reference to specific places. Where there is death, in particular, there is darkness.

Eventually, though, even Galadriel’s light can’t keep Frodo out of danger. Even that light goes out, but Sam comes back. Forgive the sentimentality, but Galadriel’s light could not keep Frodo out of danger. It failed, but Sam’s loyalty didn’t. Sam’s loyalty was a light that really couldn’t go out. For those who might argue, Sam did not leave by his own free will. Frodo told him to leave, and in fact, he held to his loyalty to such a high degree that he obliged. He knew that many of Frodo’s decisions and judgments were wrong, but he allowed his friend to make those choices, determined to protect him while he could. Truthfully, the more I watch Lord of the Rings, the more I think Frodo isn’t a very good friend. He has his reasons. His task is not an easy one. Regardless, Sam is seriously devoted to him, and in the end, it becomes clear that Frodo is appreciative.

The point is, Loyalty has to be mutual, and it takes perseverance. Frodo and Sam do not have an easily relatable or translatable relationship because yes, they are friends, but they have slightly different social status. Sam is Frodo’s servant. By the end, it seems like this slight status difference is gone between them. This is only possible because of what they went through together. At the end of his life, Jesus says to his disciples, “I no longer call you servants because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead I have called you friends, for everything I have learned from my Father, I have made known to you.” Being a friend of Jesus changes our position in the Universe, whatever that may be.

I took a long time thinking about two things in particular. What does it mean to be full of light? What is the difference between being blind and seeing darkness? I think both have to do with one’s outlook on the world. We spend a lot of time, when thinking about external spirituality, trying to figure out our position on X, Y, or Z, or wondering whether a particular practice is appropriate in worship. Internal spirituality is often much more abstract and simple. We spend our time praying or listening to music or simply musing. I don’t think we spend enough time thinking about how God actually views the world, and how, as his friends and followers, we’re meant to view the world. This is important because our outlook on the world affects our actions in the world, and our internal spirituality. If we have a generally negative outlook on things, we will lose hope. The hope we have; the light we have is, therefore, at risk of going out.

This also relates to loyalty in that our outlook on the world is connected to our outlook on people in general. A positive outlook allows us to be more trusting, more open, and more loving. It allows us to live more freely as God would want us to live. Often, we don’t openly talk about God or faith or spirituality in general for fear of judgment. If we have a more positive outlook, we will be much more likely to trust, and much more able to forgive when our trust is taken advantage of. This obviously does not mean that we should throw caution to the wind in every situation, but being more trusting and forgiving also allows people to trust and forgive us.

To see darkness is different from being blind. To be blind is often a metaphor for being unaware. Seeing darkness is to know that there is light or hope, and not know how to find it, or to see it and refuse it or give it up. I think a tangible example of this might be in one of the final scenes of Return of the King. Sam is trying to help Frodo get to where he can get rid of the ring. He tries to give him hope by reminding him of home, but Frodo says, “I’m naked in the dark with nothing, no veil between me and the wheel of fire…” In response, Sam says, “Then let us be rid of it. I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you.”

Sometimes we do have to carry people until they can see the light again, or maybe even for the first time. That can mean a whole lot of different things, and sometimes it just means making sure we pray for them. Jesus says, “Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Sometimes people can only rely on God to carry them, but there’s no one more trustworthy, no one more loyal, and no one more capable. Jesus says these things with certainty and authority. They’re true and unchanging.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

Look At The Sky

The other day I realized just how much I stare at my phone. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but I realized that for the longest time, I had not looked at the sky. After realizing this, I realized just how much I don’t pay attention to as an adult that really seemed to matter when I was a kid. As a kid I would just sit and stare at the sky and think about a million things and nothing. It seemed like there was so much more in the world. I didn’t notice when I stopped doing that. I didn’t notice as the world became smaller and faster.

I’ve been trying to make a point to look at the sky now. I still don’t always remember. I think it’s important. I used to see pictures in the clouds. I don’t see pictures anymore, but I still think the sky is beautiful. I think it’s important to appreciate the things God made. If it wasn’t important, he wouldn’t have made things beautiful. The world could have been black and white. As an artist, I don’t always know why I make things or write things. I just can’t help it, and even though I don’t have an explicable reason for them, I love the things I make. I imagine God feels the same way, particularly about people who can love him back.

It’s funny that a lot of things in the world can keep you alive in one case, and can kill you in another. I like fire. At one point in time, fire was integral to the survival of the human race. In fact, for several years we’ve heated our house with a wood stove through the winter because it’s been cheaper. Fire is something I can still stare at for hours and think about nothing and everything. I like to play with fire. I like to watch stuff burn (yes I know that sounds weird) because it’s interesting and beautiful.

I’ve said this before, but I have over one hundred cousins of various removes, etc, so I just call them all cousins. Anyway, at camp this summer my mom had to explain to one of my cousins who has some form of developmental problem that he couldn’t touch fire. He understood that it would hurt him, but he thought he could run to the lake and put it out before it got too hot. Like me, he thought fire was beautiful and interesting and just wanted to understand it better.

Two years ago, when we had a record-breaking winter, my dad went hiking and made a video. It was snowing and sub-zero on the mountain, but my dad had the time of his life. He loves cold and snow. When I was a kid I liked it. Listening to the weather forecast and hearing seventies and eighties instead of eighties and nineties makes me a little sad these days. At the same time, a part of me is hoping for another record-breaking winter. If it has to come, I’d rather it come in full force. When we got Seamus, we tried to give him some snow to play with. He was afraid of it. He’s a really stupid bird.

I wonder if it’s easier to appreciate things when you think about how you relate to those things, or when you project yourself into a story or an idea or a situation. In my last post I talked about Mythic Island. There was a specific way in which to get there. You had to build a fairy house. Fairies would show up and live there, and in return for building them a house, they would do things for you. In particular, they would create a magical portal that would allow you to get to Mythic Island. A fairy house is a tepee made of sticks and leaves and things. The better the fairy house, the more fairies it would attract. The more fairies you had, the more they could do for you. When we hung out in the woods as kids we would think about these things, and we would build fairy houses just to be nice. We had more of a reason for being there.

I think it’s harder to relate to the world when our worlds are our computers. On Facebook and WordPress and wherever else we “exist” we create the versions of ourselves that we want that particular world to see, and we see the manufactured versions of everyone else. We can look at pictures of clouds and fire, but they’re no substitute for the real thing. When I started playing Dungeons and Dragons with my friends, it was like going back to Mythic Island. At the time, though, things from Mythic Island would come into the “real world” and we had to help dragons get back home. I guess maybe that made the world seem a little bigger, too.

What I didn’t realize as a kid was that the world is really big. It’s just my little piece of it that’s small. In Mythic Island we could ride our dragons hundreds of miles in a day, we were powerful, and time didn’t make sense. It was our world, and that’s why it seemed so much bigger than the “real world.” I guess I just kind of miss being amazed by the sky. The world really hasn’t changed. I’m just more easily distracted, and ironically, I think I’m less patient in some ways. For the longest time I didn’t want a cell phone. Everyone my age (eleven or so) had one, but I didn’t care. Then when smart phones became a thing my mom practically had to force me to get one. And a few days ago I realized that I forget to be amazed by the sky.

Don’t forget to be amazed. Even if you’ve looked at something a million times, look at it again. Listen to that song you love again. Smell those flowers. Climb that mountain. Eat that cookie. Go back to Mythic Island.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

Defend The Faith

 

I’m not gonna lie, it kinda drives me crazy when he does stuff like this.

Me: Lord, I pray that your people, especially my friends, would come to know you and would choose to be with you. (for the eight-thousandth time)
Him: Defend the faith.
Me: I’ve been trying to do that, but I feel like I’m just saying the same things over and over and no one’s listening. How do I get them to listen?
Him: That’s not what I said.
Me: What?
Him: It’s not your job to get them to listen.
Me: Wait… what?
Him: You can’t make them listen. That’s their choice.
Me: I’ve been trying to find a way to say what’s right in a way that’s going to make sense, but I can’t change the message.
Him: Right. Good. Don’t stop. Just don’t stop.
Me: Oh…

Thursday Night

On Monday I got an email from a guy who is friends with the youth minister at our church. He’s a seminarian, and has spent most of the summer at a church one town over. Brad had told him that I play guitar and like worship music, so he contacted me regarding a service he was putting together on Thursday. I said I’d be delighted to play, but I’d need a few details. He didn’t get back to me until Wednesday, but he wanted to meet in person. I invited him to my house, and we talked about what music we would do. We decided on four songs, only one of which I knew, so I had just over twenty four hours to prepare. A rookie mistake when it comes to music is to sign up for something like this on ludicrously short notice. I’ve done it before, and it hasn’t turned out well.

Luckily the songs were very simple, one of them we decided to do acapela, and I learned them very quickly. I also had an epiphany when I went to bed Wednesday night. My epilepsy started acting up a bit, and when it does this I try hard to pray. The problem is that epilepsy inhibits me from using words, so I had to figure out a way to pray without them. Interestingly, I can still process visual ideas, if you will, and that includes the shape of words, so I traced Jesus’ name on my arm over and over. All I need is to know that he’s with me when I’m having problems, and that did the trick. My epilepsy is the one thing that really scares me these days, but I think I figured out how to fix that. It was a darn simple fix.

Last night I arrived at the church a few minutes early so Aaron could set me up. The purpose of this event was to call on the Holy Spirit to give us new energy and new excitement for the Gospel, and also to give us whatever gifts we need to share our faith. This was his first time organizing something like this, and it was my first time actually leading worship. Before people started arriving we prayed, and our prayer was: “Jesus, we don’t know what we’re doing, but you do, so you lead us.” As expected, we made a couple mistakes, but overall, I think the whole thing went well. I think Aaron will be a phenomenal priest. His prayers were genuine and faithful, and I could tell that something amazing was happening in that chapel.

I read a thing the other day about how God doesn’t expect us to be “good enough.” He wants us to rely on him to be good enough; strong enough; smart enough; eloquent enough; brave enough. He is enough. There’s a line in one of the songs I played last night that goes: “You are hope, you are hope, you have covered all my sin.” I don’t even know how to explain how much that means. Once again I’m realizing just how much God loves me, and how beautifully unfair that is. It used to vaguely bother me that his love is unfair; that I can’t equal it, but I’ve come to realize that I don’t want a God whose love is fair. I love him more because I can never equal him. The fact that his love is infinite means that I can always grow in love; I can always change; I can always do better because he is always leading me. It also means that now matter how bad I mess up, he will still love me, and that especially makes me want to do better.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

“Get Over It”

The world deals us crap and then dares us; maybe even expects us to smile, and fight a battle we can’t win. It’s like a game, or some kind of twisted performance that we have to take part in. As soon as it seems like things are okay, something terrible comes along that’s worse than the last one. Survival instinct or contemporary culture or something tells us to “get over it,” because the consequences are even worse if we don’t. We have to keep our eye on the prize, or at least keep our heads above water, because no one’s going to help us, and we can’t be left behind.

Jesus doesn’t expect you to fight. He doesn’t expect you to keep going. When all you can see is darkness, and all you want to do is fall, he says, “Go ahead. I’ll stay with you. Take your time. Cry. Scream. Do what you need to. I love you.” He doesn’t even expect you to “get over it.” Sometimes you can’t get over it. Sometimes the darkness is so overwhelming that it’s hard to see any light at all. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to see the good in things, but there is good in things. The world dares you to see it, but sometimes you just can’t. Jesus says, “If you can’t trust anything else; if you can’t trust what’s beautiful and good in this life, just trust me. Just trust that even if it doesn’t happen in your lifetime, the world will be made perfect. Your world will be made perfect. You will live. Everyone will live, and there will be no more hurt. I promise you that.”

This has been a bad week. I’m tired, and I’m honestly having a little trouble being the unshakable optimist I usually am. The world has been looking a little darker than usual. At the same time, I see a light on the horizon. Honestly, sometimes I’d rather let the darkness take over, but the fact of the matter is, it can’t. There’s simply too much life and light and beauty in this world. It’s sometimes hard to look at, but it’s there nonetheless. I know that God created a perfect world, and no matter how badly we screw it up, it can never be utterly lost because Jesus saved it, and he’s still saving it. I simply can’t ignore the fact that it was a perfect summer day today. I can’t ignore the sweetness of freshly-picked strawberries. I can’t ignore the strange, but good smell of my bird. I can’t ignore the way my favorite songs make me feel, whether I’m happy or sad. Love is alive in the littlest things, and that’s a fact.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

What I Want To Tell You

What I want to tell you is not what you will want to hear. I want to tell you that you should forgive him. I want to tell you that you should let it go; move on; live and let live. I want to tell you that Jesus loves you. I want to tell you that Jesus loves him, despite the things he’s done–despite the things they’ve all done.

I know you won’t want to hear that. I know you won’t believe it. It’s hard for me to believe it, too. But I do believe it. I may not like it, and I may not understand it, but I think it’s true.

I want to tell you that forgiving someone and allowing them to continue what they’re doing–what they’ve done is not the same. Forgiving means letting go of your anger, seeing someone as nothing more than a broken person, and moving on. Forgiving doesn’t mean going back. Forgiving doesn’t mean that what they did is okay. It means being free. It means no longer being defined by what happened to you. It means finally being able to love.

You don’t have to forget. In fact, you shouldn’t forget because what happened was important, and you can learn from it. Others can learn from it. Remembering makes you a better person because you won’t make the same mistakes.

I love you, and I want you to be happy. I want you to forgive and let it go, but I’m afraid to tell you. I’m afraid you’ll get mad. I’m afraid you won’t understand. I want to let you know that I’m praying for you, but I don’t know if that would mean anything to you, so I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!