Admiring Grace

First in Awhile

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Fri, 31 Mar 2017 02:36:00 +0000

The past year or so I have been working with the youth group at the church I grew up in. Such an odd thing to wrap my mind around. The group that in so many ways formed who I am today is something I still get to be there for. Though now I'm the responsible one. The mature one. As our interim pastor says, "the one with all the answers." (He JOKES anyway).

I show up and help lead where I can. Because it's what is needed. And it's a calling I feel I have on my life. To work with young people, to help teach.

The irony is that my journey lately has taken me through a struggle with discipline. Becoming the person I need to be and doing the actions to get me there. I watch my husband and it seems so easy for him while for me often it's a battle of but I don't want to.

And I have to admit comparisons have only intensified that feeling. It's so easy to sit back and deny what I ought to do in favor of what's right in front of me.

But I've been so blessed with strong friends and a patient husband who have continued to challenge me. My life is so much more than my circumstances. What I think I have to offer is different from what God has called me to give. And that gap that I seem to be stuck on, the pause of I-don't-need-to-because-I-can't, is wrong. My lack of discipline isn't because I don't understand what discipline is or why I need it. It's a fear of losing comfort. The more that becomes clear to me the more I want to lean farther into my couch, blanket pulled up high.

But I’m also filled with hope. Hope that there is more to my life than what I see right now. Hope that this scary feeling is really just the beginning of something wonderful.

This past week we talked about how faith makes us give things up, but if we don’t give them up now we’ll end up losing them in the long run. I get it. I know that. But the application of it has been my journey. Is it yours too?

I am Redeemed

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Sun, 23 Feb 2014 21:52:00 +0000

You set me free.

I don’t have to be,

That old man inside of me.

I’m not who I used to be.

Thank God, I’m redeemed.

I’ve loved this song since it was released. The simple truth I so often forget. I am redeemed. It’s basic. Essentially basic. But why can’t I remember?

So often I find myself slipping into my version of “that old man.” I listened to a sermon awhile ago and the pastor talked about how everyone goes through times of desert. Then he started talking to me.

Just make sure you aren’t keeping yourself in the desert any longer than you have to.

Longer than you have to.

The phrase played in my mind like tacky wordart. Big, bright letters swirling into sentences. Into meaning. Into my life.

I don’t have to be like that. I don’t have to do that or hide there. I am redeemed. Bought back. Made better.

Set free.

Don’t keep yourself in that desert any longer than you have to be there.

There is a special kind of grace in this remembering. I get to realize all over again how thirst-quenching this life-giving grace truly is. And as frustrated as I get with my lack of memory, I’m learning maybe it’s part of a gift. Not the forgetting, but the journey back.

The sanctification of a life. The joys of getting it and stumbles of missing out. But all of it combined to the learning of holiness. To coming to an understanding that I am indeed set free.

Natural

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Tue, 15 Oct 2013 16:47:00 +0000

My natural response to things is anger.

I’m a cranky person and it’s very possible that like Nick Miller, I’m aging into my personality. This old soul of mine has its downsides and a big one is not leaving room for other people’s choices. Even the good ones.

The best ones.

For them.

I like knowing what’s coming. Being able to picture and plan. Super type A? Guilty.

But as I’ve grown I’ve seen the damaging of pictures and plans. The ones that don’t ever make it out of my head to reality. I’m creative enough to see beautiful things.

Fictions.

Learning that most will stay far from reality while not letting the flames consume me has been a challenge. I’m not saying I’ve done it. That I’ve made it and here’s my story of success. But that I’m discovering. That I’m starting to recognize the signs of anger rising, burning inside my head and heart – gulp, yep, I’ve got one.

What’s kept this battle raging is that it’s hidden.

I don’t usually – sorry Mom – blow up at people. I can hold it in or use calm words to express my distaste.

My mind is less controlled.

No. that isn’t right either. It’s got a focused grasp on fury. On blaming whoever has stepped in the way of my plans or those of someone I love. So there I sit on my scorching throne pounding my scepter at a world that just refuses to listen.

Can you hear it?

A hollow pound thump, a slow simmering.

The sound of a woman fading into loathing.

I realized this today. As I sat in my office staring at the rain dropping to the pavement frustrated with my life. Mine. Not another’s choices. Mine.

It isn’t that I’m unhappy. I am.

Quite.

But this isn’t how, or where, I pictured life.

But if I’m happy, why bother being frustrated? Because it’s not what I planned. Letting go of my plans and accepting a different set – one I know will be better in the long run if not right now – is the hardest trial of my young life. One that will continue until I’m perfectly dead.

A Matter of Convenience

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Wed, 18 Sep 2013 01:26:00 +0000

When I started writing this, I wanted to be vague. To be artistic and creative. Something I haven’t done in a long while. I sent the draft to my friend regretted hitting send.

It wasn’t honest. And I’m nearly positive it only made sense to me. I talked about invisible bars and sitting and patience as action.

And most importantly, I washed out my pathetic attempts to almost heroic.

Can I just say, capital letters, FALSE.

Stupid is just stupid. No excuses. See, I had this problem for quite some time. Most of my friends new about this situation and they didn’t approve.

I didn’t approve.

But kept myself in a position where I felt important because part of me needed the attention. And it gets worse. I wasn’t content where I was. I wanted more and more. It wasn’t even a relationship. But I thought it could be. Maybe. In a few years. Just wait and see. Of course, I never waited too much - just enough to hang on and be aware of any changes.

It was easy. Just how I like interacting. No labels, no long term commitments, no anything. Well, besides confusion. That I had in spades.

I’m a control freak who wound up exactly where I thought I’d want to be. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what it was like until I was there. I’ve never been to Paris, but I can tell I’d probably love it. I thought this would be like visiting a beautiful city.

What I didn’t know is in this case I’d be dropped in a foreign city at midnight where no one spoke English.

All I wanted was to go back.

Funny thing about vacations, though; you can’t un-take them.

I’d gone, bull headed into a change that no one wanted. Well, I did. Maybe I ought to say I didn’t understand what was happening. What I was doing. Just keep waiting I’d say. It’ll work out, life always does.

Sitting in the sun eating warm bread I can say that it will work out. Not without pain. Not without change. Not without struggling through signs I couldn’t read. Not without loss. But morning comes. Sometimes after a long while, after we say it is time for the moon to fall and sun to rise.

The initial shining made me long for the comfort of dark. Fortunately I could hear people cheering. I’d done it. Really, finally, done it.

On Still Moving

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 23:43:00 +0000

Any prayer requests?

That’s how my lit prof always starts class. This morning I was thinking, wishing I were there right now to shoot up my hand.

Yes! I have praise!

Although, I have to admit, that isn’t how I woke up.

It’s finals week. I was cranky and annoyed as well as emotionally drained from writing some pretty personal stories for my two thesis classes.

Like normal I reached for my phone to check the time – up before my alarm yet again.

This time I had a few text messages. One friend said some things I didn’t want to hear. Just like friends to share that sort of stuff we just have to hope it’s to benefit us, not to sting.

I was in a fine mood as I walked out to get started on breakfast. Scrambled eggs would help get me out of that funk right?

That’s what I was praying, anyway, just before I shared my news with my roommate as she headed out to class.

I brought my computer out to listen to a sermon. Recently in a crisis of emotion I told another roommate to listen to Tim Keller; it would calm her down. For once I actually took my own advice.

Next on my iTunes queue for Keller was "Born into Hope."

Great. I just love listening to positive people…

Misery loves company and I really wanted some at that point.

My annoyance at the title decreased as Keller started talking about Concentration Camps in the first part of his sermon – hands down my life is not that bad.

He quoted Viktor Frankl (Man's Search for Meaning) who observed his fellow prisoners in Auschwitz. Dr. Frankl saw “life only has meaning if we have a hope and a meaning that suffering and even death cannot destroy.”

And suddenly it was all okay.

I was still stressed, and tired, and hurt, but that wasn’t the point. Keller went on to say that

Joy lets you just sorrow. Doesn’t harden you or make you bitter or cynical. The sorrow makes you wiser. What you have is an amazing picture of the life that almost any reflective person would want. You have an enormous life. You don’t run from sorrow. The joy enables you to have sorrow. You don’t run from it! It softens you and wisens you. (paraphrase)

My is beyond where I am right now. My joy is beyond my sorrow, even if it doesn’t end it. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay, because this isn’t where I stay.

So You Got Married:

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Sun, 14 Apr 2013 01:26:00 +0000

I know so many couples. People at church, from school, that I grew up with; people I see while running errands or out with my friends. So. Many. Couples.

And I love it.

It is so beautiful to see people living out the love they promised before God and before family and friends.

What’s less great is how they talk to me, their single friend.

There seem to be two spectrums. On the one side they want to set me up with all their bachelor friends and sometimes he turns out to have waited on them once at this tiny restaurant called…but he was cute at least kind of! So I should really let them try because I just really ought to be married too. A coffee outing turns into a pre-proposal they get so excited at the hope of a relationship.

Thanks guys, now I don’t have to be desperate, you make it clear I am.

The other side tells me the horror stories of their marriages. How he never listens and she quit being interested in him or how all marriage does is make people fight. They make their relationships out to be an awful mess.

And who would want that?

The spectrum.

Really, though, that’s not an accurate title.

Because YOU married folks are on both ends. Usually in the same conversation.

And all the single people see it.

You married folks mean so well, you want us to have just what you’ve got. Then you go and complain about your spouse or tell me how miserable your last fight was.

Misery loves company?

At least, that’s what I hear.

I am so tired of it. Stop telling me how awful your relationship is then in the next breath try to force me into

one.

My view of marriage is a high one. I believe in “ahava.” That when you make your marriage vows you’re admitting the person you’re marrying is broken, ugly even. But you’re staying. Because the promise you make isn’t afraid of ugly or dealing with conflict or working through cranky people and miscommunication and disease and kids and in-laws and jobs and annoying quirks and whatever else gets in the way of butterflies.

I’m sorry you’re unhappy in your relationship.

Stop complaining. Do something. There is a ridiculous amount of resources to help you strengthen your relationship from books to podcasts to counseling. DO SOMETHING.

And stop telling your single friends how awful marriage is.

The problem isn’t marriage, it’s you.

Straighten out your view of why you’re married. What you promised and why you’re so miserable.

At marriage you signed up for ahava. The time to start living it was twenty minutes ago. You’re right in thinking that I’m just a young, single girl. What do I know? I’m single because I don’t want the misery you’ve got. I haven’t found that relationship where ahava is possible. You have. Congratulations. Really, I mean that.

But please, don’t waste that. Don’t fall into the displeasure of the moment and waste what you have right now.

It’s like I always tell my roommates, don’t shoot for happy. Happiness is cheap; joy is what we’re after.

[Listen to this sermon for a better view of ahava]

Question

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 20:37:00 +0000

Everyone I talk to who is over the age of thirty says no way they would trade places with me. Not because my life is so rampant with complications, but because of this stage of life.

Right now I am deciding how far I want my education to go. Where I want to live. What I want to do. Who I want to do coffee with and who I’d prefer to avoid. Then that coffee thing turns into something and then what? Or it doesn’t and there I am with the exact same set of questions.

My roommate’s father once asked me what I wanted to do in life and where - pretty basic before-college-graduation questions. So I thought. I didn’t realize I was being vague until he said that it was good I didn’t have specifics because I couldn’t really decide anything without knowing who I was going to marry.

Gee thanks.

He didn’t mean to be annoying or rude. But he had a valid point. A lot of my decisions now (ahem, all of them) will have their effects on the rest of my life. Throwing myself into my education then a career will close a lot of doors when it comes to family. I would love to get my doctorate and teach and everything that entails, but if I’m in school until I’m in my later twenties then have to focus on building my reputation as an academic I will not have the time nor the energy to devote to family until I’m well into my thirties. By that point I’ll have a life built; adding complications again won’t sound like something I’d like to invest in.

At the same time, I do not believe it is biblical to sit around and wait for marriage and a family to fall into my lap. That’s lazy and sinful. Proverbs is full of verses on how horrible laziness is and how much there is to do in life. Especially Proverbs 31, the perfect woman chapter, that girl always had something she was doing. So that rules out being a bum or living in my parent’s basement forever – trust me it’s been tempting.

Now, obviously, I’m praying like crazy for God’s will to be mine, but that doesn’t mean I’ll hear an answer right away. So I continue to pray and gradually make my choices. And then pray that what I decided wasn’t a mistake. Sometimes I change my choice before it was final and other times I’ve not liked it at all where it landed me but I know I’m there for a reason.

I just wish I knew all the reasons.

And all the right choices.

Because my list of questions is getting bigger every time I look…

One Fruit: Becoming the Monday Church

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Mon, 25 Mar 2013 17:12:00 +0000

I’ve had a rather horrid realization:

Just because someone already loves Jesus doesn’t mean I stop being a witness.

The terrible part is I haven’t been living up to that. I tend to assume that my behavior around and toward my Christian friends can be different because “they know what I mean” or “they understand me” so much better than others or “they’ll forgive me.” More often than not all three are true.

But what excuse is that?

So often I am captured by how I feel and made slave to it by my own will. I hold on to how I feel and project it however I see fit. I don’t wait to see if it is beneficial. I just do it.

Nike would be proud.

Jesus isn’t.

I heard my uncle talk about the churches in Kenya. They have this saying called the “Monday Church.” They say that to remind the Body of Christ that it isn’t just Sunday we are the bride of Christ but at all times in all things. I originally thought it was such a cool movement. Go Kenya!

It hit me that I don’t live that mindset very well.

I tend to remember love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control around non-believers. But my Christian friends? I’m willing to let my attitude slip into one of over-familiarity.

How disrespectful to them.

How appalling to Christ.

Bound together with love.

It’s easy for me to be frustrated with the “slow” person in the group. The one who is always a few steps behind and not quite sure of the direction everyone else is headed. I’m realizing why my frustration is directed at them:

They’re a reflection of my weaknesses.

I am the slow friend.

I’m the one who is constantly given grace.

I’m the one who goes too far in the sarcastic banter.

I’m the one who takes a serious conversation and makes it a joke.

I’m the one who stutters when speaking truth.

So clearly I see where I fall short in those other people. Rather than use it as an opportunity to drive myself closer to Christ, inward toward Perfection, I scoff and roll my eyes. Then continue languidly to wonder why things aren’t changing.

Why I’m not changing.

God has been so gracious to me. In every way.

He saved me.

He sustains me.

He shows me where I lack.

He loves me through all of it to Him.

He gives me friends and family who’s love pushes me toward Christ.

He teaches me to forgive, to release what I so tightly cling to.

He makes me new.

He is always turning my heart of stone into one of flesh.

Suspension

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 15:41:00 +0000

Last week I went out with a friend. We were talking and getting the other caught up with the details of our lives. It was a whole lot of fun. I love conversations like those. I love friends who will talk like that.

Then I got asked a big question,

What are you good at?

And I didn’t know.

See, we were discussing our futures and our answers to the “what’s next?” questions that come after college graduation. I threw my plans under the bus that night. Because that’s not what I want. But my problem is: I don’t really know what I want.

What are you good at?

I’ve been thinking about that question all week. Truth is, I’m good at a lot of things. I just don’t know where I fit best. I have yet to find the place where the world’s deep need and my deep gladness meet. (Frederick Beucher uses the juxtaposition to define vocational calling)

Two days after this conversation I sat at my cousin’s wedding. It was beautiful in every way. And I sat watching my other cousins with their spouses and children and I had to smile.

They found it.

That night, in that place, they were doing everything they were designed to do. So I sat and I learned and I held babies.

It was a wonderful suspension to my thinking.

It wasn’t long before the night ended and the internal dialogue continued.

This weekend was wonderfully convicting.

Yet I am still working through my thoughts.

Family is wonderful like that. Especially the ones I don’t see often. They ask these questions and I shuffle my words for answers then spend the following days trying to answer for myself. And this trip, my uncle preached at church. Though I have to say, he always seems to hold that position at our family gatherings.

So… what am I good at?

Shifting

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Sat, 02 Mar 2013 23:44:00 +0000

I can write just about anything. Especially when it comes to the important things. I can post it here or write a letter or keep my thoughts in my journal.

I can’t say it though.

Especially the important things.

My brain stops working and my tongue freezes up and nothing happens. I’m all-of-the sudden passive. And I just let the moment pass because that’s how time works and life changes quickly.

I have let a year’s worth of moments pass.

And I’ll never get them back. All the times I could-have-should-have-meant-to slipped by without my permission. Until here I am sure that since I can’t go back in time the forward is forever changed.

So I tried to do other things and switch-up my focus. Anything to not waste more of my time. But my gaze always slides back. Or over. Or wherever just for a glimpse.

I’ve let good things pass by because I can’t, won’t move farther away. I’ll move away all right, but only so far. Until I loose sight then one, two steps back and I finally stop holding my breath. I hurt someone else in my back-stepping. I had real words there, though. Enough to end before it became a lie. But that’s the difference: that was protecting someone. This? This is deeper. So ingrained yet what if words send it flying away? So silence remains. Half-hearted attempts at honesty that lead to frustration then…back again.

The worst of it all? It’s all self-imposed this joke I have become.

I could stop. I could leave. I could never say another word. But I don’t want to. Because as crazy as this drives me, it would break my heart to end it. My distractions have all failed.

And so I continue to speak and to joke and to laugh leaving the most important to quietly spill from my eyes, unreceived.

Do I? The Constant Reminder

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Sun, 24 Feb 2013 04:19:00 +0000

Life is rushing through me. No longer by, just straight through. I see so many things in this world I want to impact, to change. But here I am, halted.

It’s not apathy.

It’s paralytic.

Decisions are being made and I see myself saying no or even agreeing but all along my mind is screaming

what are you doing?

And I don’t really know.

Every choice I make this semester is a big one. Where will I live? Where will I work? Should I get a roommate? Which relationships should I invest the most in? Does any of it even matter?

Luckily for me, Ecclesiastes is in my top ten.

I can see it now: sitting at your computer screen shaking your head. That book is so depressing you poor thing. That’s not lucky. Read some Psalms.

Okay. That’s good advice too, but you’re wrong. That book has pushed me through many paralytic seasons. I was in a bible study a few years ago that went through this book and made me fall even more in love with it. Solomon was the wisest, most wealthy, best supplied king in history. And he couldn’t find the meaning of life in national park sized gardens, never ending parties, or the most beautiful of women. Any achievement I could come up with pales with this man’s. And still he saw it as meaningless.

Until chapter eight.

Until we learn to see the temporal as nothing and eternal as our all.

Until we have built our lives around what God has called us to. (Matthew 6:33)

When that is done for the day. When we have fulfilled our mission. When we have forgiven those who hurt us. When we have prayed and spent time with our Lord. When we have fought the bitterness that often comes when the wicked win. Then Solomon commends the enjoyment of life:

Call your friends.

Eat good food and drink good wine.

Laugh and love together.

Then go to bed and know your trust lies in the Lord and everything else rests in His perfect hands.
And so the words of a man wiser than I reminds that my handicap is greater than I realize. But there is a plan. And my job is small in comparison.

Listen.
Be obedient.
Love.
Be in community.

When I realize this the meaning of life is less daunting. My search becomes a quiet conversation with the Perfection I already love and trust.

Before Me

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Tue, 22 Jan 2013 00:56:00 +0000

Ah the glories of a new semester.

The wonder of this being the last.

Rain has fallen nearly steadily since I returned to classes. Almost as if nature itself cannot console itself with the changing tides. That’s been a big theme for the past year. Change. Here I have talked a lot about how receptive I have been to it, but really that’s only a part of the picture.

I don’t publish the things I’ve been learning until long after I’ve realized the lesson is there. At times I am in the midst of it still, but yet, I am far from the beginning.

I’m reminded of that journey as I sit in an unfamiliar place imagining an unfamiliar scene. It would be so simple to just look out the window and picture what I’d like to be there – I so often do. But how often do I look to see what’s there?

What is right before my face.

Not often, I must admit.

It is so much easier for me to dream of something than to admit what I have is, well, what I have. An empty sidewalk is easily a running track for unicorns or an epic battle ripped from my history text. But it is hard to see the rain hitting the empty bricks as just that. When a person walks by, how easy for me to wind them into the drama I have created rather than admit them to their own category – reality.

As I said before, it takes me time to admit where I fall short. I think it’s because I often I have trouble seeing what’s there. I can see what could be there. As in, I see the ‘me’ I’ll probably be in 10 years. The ‘me’ I desire to be in a given circumstance.

The 'me' I am right now?

She’s not all that great.

But she wants to be.

And I suppose that’s the first lesson of 2013. The process, the journey, all the learning and reaching for what seems so unattainable that’s what I want. One day, that ‘me’ will be a reality. Because she’ll be redeemed and heavenly.

But today it’s okay to see soaked bricks.
Who knows, maybe soon they’ll float up into a castle in the sky…

Teach Me

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Tue, 27 Nov 2012 19:48:00 +0000

I like leaving my radio on when I’m not home. Coming home to singing just makes me smile. The right song at the right time can change a whole day.

That happened today.

I came home because I was so tired of school. Just being there was draining me. Seeing the same people I see every Tuesday – I just wanted to run and hide away.

I ran home.

As I walked into my room Matthew West was pleading,
“Show me how to love the unlovable
Show me how to reach the unreachable
Help me now to do the impossible”

My head tilted and I just stared at the numbers on my radio thinking they would help clear out my thoughts, explain the mess in my brain.

I am unlovable.

Maybe not to everyone, but to someone.

There are lots of people that I have to pray to love well, to have patience for, ask forgiveness for bad thoughts. I hadn’t really considered that that person is me to someone else.

Before repentance, that was me to God.

All He could see where my imperfections. My lack of righteousness and holiness. My sin.

Then Jesus blotted that all away. His perfection covers my lacking. His suffering was extended to me as joy.

Jesus made me loveable.

A bit of a shock to articulate the extent of my selfishness.

I complain about so much in others while in the same moment justify myself. Why haven’t I learned that my justification is from heaven not from me?

Why is it such a struggle to selflessly give my love to those around me? Can’t I see how much worse I was than they are now?

I’m longing for perfection in a broken world.

Sometimes I forget how close it really is. A few weeks ago my roommates and I were talking and I gave them one of my sermonettes. It was from 1 Corinthians 13 when Paul writes about now seeing through the glass dimly, but soon all will be seen in full. I told them how sometimes in our dirty glass God takes His hand and wipes out a streak and grace shines through so brightly. Reminders of who He is and of our first love.

That’s what this song was to me today; a light shone through, dirt washed away. Grace made clear.

Happily Ever After

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Thu, 22 Nov 2012 05:16:00 +0000

My roommates left for Thanksgiving. It meant I got to spend time working on some research papers I’ve been putting off. Be impressed, I actually made progress.

The first night was pretty lame though. I did absolutely nothing to further my homework goals. I did, however, make a delicious dinner and have too much dessert. I then spent some quality time with Facebook and music. Lots and lots of music.

Before I turned off the tunes for the night, a chorus echoed through my room:

“Who’d like to know, I’d like to know.
Author of the moment, can you tell me, do I end up, do I end up happy?

Do I? Not going to lie, it was a pretty lonely evening. Not having the roommates around to catch my thoughts and throw them back.

Do I have to know how things end up? I would really like to know.

Most days.

Then again, this mystery has created some magic that my knowledge would have destroyed. In general, I like to know things: how things work, where something goes, what a word means, how someone feels, what they’re thinking, the things that make them tick. Everything. I just want to know.

Maybe it’s an evil genius thing. If I know I can control it and rule the world. Or at least know how to react.

Okay, so I’m just really insecure.

I would love a princess fairy tale – assuming I am the princess and not another side/evil character. I know life does not work that way – I’ve not been promised a castle. My mansion comes on the other side of death. Therefore I try to amass as much knowledge as I can to protect myself from whatever is coming. Because I don’t actually know what’s coming.

I don’t know how to respond most of the time.

I don’t know when the right time to ask is.

I’m never sure if I should go with my feelings or my reasoning.

I definitely don’t have a clue what anyone else is going to do.

So the chords bounce through my head – Do I end up happy?

And the answer I got today is who cares.

Happiness is cheap. Why would I strive for something so fleeting? I get joy. Everyday all the time. I have the privilege of living my life actively to give God glory. Everything I go through in this life is molding me to be more like him.

What is anything I go through in my twenties, thirties, forties, beyond, compared to the fifty trillion years and beyond I will be spending in perfection with Perfection Himself?

Nothing.

What I learn here is a shadow of what is there. What I know here is to make me more fit to live there.

If only I can remember to forget my own interests in favor of heaven’s as I continue in my desire to know…

Armies of Your Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Fri, 16 Nov 2012 18:27:00 +0000

Cause I want to be with you

but I need a place to start

I'm surrounded and captured

by the armies of your heart

I’m in such an odd place. Again.

I read two articles yesterday about Guarding Your Heart. I really liked them. I shared them on my social media sites. Now I think I need to add my thoughts to the authors’ thinking to avoid confusion of my personal views.

They said don’t guard your heart. They said love people without bounds. They said you will get hurt. They said it is so worth it. They said it’s what Jesus did.

I agree.

However.

People are stupid.

Love is so ultimately important because God is love. We have been commanded to love others whether we want to or not. These authors don’t want people to fear loving, because God doesn’t. He loves without bounds. He does get hurt. He says it’s worth it.

We’re to live in love. I will never disagree with that. My concern comes with the type of love.

Romantic love is not the same as friend/family love. We’re not supposed to love excessively in the romantic sense. We are to love our spouse that way. Most people do love more than one person in the romantic sense and that isn’t error – be honest with people. But be careful.

Solomon warns the Daughters of Jerusalem to “not awaken love until it so desires.” Build that love. Don’t start with it. It’s okay to love who you’re dating. I’m not saying you have to wait until marriage to feel real love or even to say “I love you.” But don’t start at romantic love.

In Song of Solomon, the couple has a tender love. They treat each other with respect – usually – and care. There are many references to themselves as brother and sister. Not in an incestuous way. In a caring, always there for you love.

The kind of love we’re to have for everyone.

The love of Christ.

That love, coupled with their romantic passionate love, is what makes their marriage wonderful. What makes it godly.

But that doesn’t mean we open up that possibility to everyone.

People are stupid.

Not every deserves your romantic love.

You have been commanded to love everyone. Regardless of your feelings. God gives us love – He gave us Christ. If He can love us, we have no excuse to not love others.

It is not good for man* to be alone.

It is not good for man to be foolish.

But we so often are.

There is a good kind of pain from love. the learning kind. One author talks about the “fingerprints” people will leave on your heart when you let them hold it. I love that picture. She also makes the point that we don’t let people hold onto our hearts forever. God holds our hearts. We have given them to Him.

He is the only one with the power to redeem us, to crush us.

Do not fear the marks of man.

But do not let men have undo access to what you have given unto God.

~ A good sermon I recently listened to on what is really loving: Revenge and Love by Matt Chandler

*Man in the generic humankind sense. Ladies, be comfortable, feel safe under the protection of that title. It’s how we were designed to be.

My Family: Take Two

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Tue, 09 Oct 2012 17:30:00 +0000

My second semester of college I took a sociology class which the professor simply called “The Family.” It was a study of relationships, of marriage, of love, of families. The prof didn’t give us much homework beyond reading the text so maybe that’s why this assignment has stayed with me in the years since – or it could be possible that I was chewed out by this particular prof for not starting the paper until the night before it was due over dinner.

I had the rare opportunity to learn about something so important from my father in a public setting. His big assignment was for the students to write a paper describing our family of origin followed by how we wanted our future families to be. My plan was to be ordinary. I wanted my future life to be utterly boring to onlookers. I wanted us to live our lives and go to soccer or ballet or school or church or wherever we happened to be headed without concern for much more.

Part of me still likes a lot of what I wrote, but my direction was wrong. I didn’t want my family to be bothered by crazies or to be the crazies. The thing about family, though, is it cannot be boring.
Family reflects God’s love.

To its members and to those outside. Family sanctifies those it touches. Marriage teaches how fallen we are, but also how beautiful love is. Children stretch patience and display a depth of thought adults have lost. Each of these aspects of people, of God’s image bearers, points to the perfect, holy God.

Lately, marriage has been coming up a lot. It happens when you’re in your twenties I guess. A current class of mine recently discussed Jane Austen’s Persuasion a romance that ends in marriage. A friend also sent me a sermon series by Louie Giglio about relationship. Both have challenged me to rethink what my idea of family is.

What will my family look like?

How will my family glorify God?

Family is the unit takes you when no one else will. That’s what God does. He sees us in our ugly sin. He loves us in it, through it, until heaven and eternity. He’ll take us when no one else will. Family must reflect that.

But how?

Part Four: The Difference

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Tue, 25 Sep 2012 21:56:00 +0000

This will be the final part of my summer series. This is by no means a full account of the lessons I learned and as I have realized these past weeks I am still in the process of understanding why May to August was so packed full of education, but I know this summer has been a turning point in many ways.

Skipping ahead several weeks from my Blessed Shock I was on the road back to school. A whole twenty-six hours on the road. For those of you who have never been on a road trip, that’s a long time – especially when you are alone travelling through many states. [Thankfully, I have wonderful friends who allowed me to stay with them letting me break up the trip into three days of driving plus plenty of hang out time!]

My time in the car was spent listening to Matt Chandler of the Village Church’s Galatians series, [okay, yep, again. I needed to hear it again to actually get it. Also, I highly recommend checking it out] praying, listening to some music, and being freaked out of my mind.

You see, I was terrified to go back to school. I did not enjoy my first year of school out East as I expected* I would. I couldn’t figure out why I was supposed to be there nor could I see what the benefit of another year would be when I got so little out of the first. [Disclaimer: my new friends are wonderful and I mean no insult to them or our friendship, they helped me get through big time when so many other things seemed to be falling apart.]

I just wanted to go back home. Each exit I passed labeled West drew me like a magnet. I had to force myself to stay on my route. Three times, yep not one, not two, but three times I had to pull out of the exit lane at the last minute. I wanted to go home.

Being the “mature Christian” I am I decided to pray…after struggling for several hours. I confessed how much fear I had, what my disappointments from the summer were, the things I regretted doing as well as things left undone. I told Him about what I had learned. I asked about what I didn’t understand. I complained a lot. I was silent, too. I begged Him to have me at home rather than school; I’m still convinced I felt Him laugh (in a goodhearted sort of way). East I was to go. By the end of my chattering I felt emotionally drained. I was still longing for the West, dreading looming East Coast, but my fears were not as stifling.

I flipped on the radio to the beginning notes of East to West by Casting Crowns. I’ve loved the song since its release so I sang along immediately – loudly and poorly for those curious. It wasn’t until the second repeat of the chorus I understood the words:

“Jesus, can You show me just how far the east is from the west/'cause I can't bear to see the man I've been come rising up in me again/'cause You know just how far the east is from the west/From one scarred hand to the other”

Oh embarrassing. Had I not just feared half the day about being on another side of the country? How could I still not grasp it does not matter where I am? That even in my fears “in the arms of Your mercy I find rest?”

I don’t know what song played next, I’m not really even sure if I continued to sing along with Mark Hall and the gang, but that chorus rang through my head as I continued down another lonely stretch of highway. There’s a hope in my traveling. A plan in my distress. It’s not about understanding what’s happening it’s about leaning into my faith no matter what.

The next day wasn’t as bad. I still wanted to go home – that feeling hasn’t gone away – but I realized that my education isn’t what brought me here. God did. The people here and the ones back home aren’t the ones who know what’s best for me. God does. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I feel or who I miss. The God of all creation has things for me to learn, lots for me to do.

This lesson must sound familiar as I seem to be relearning it all the time. It seems that God has seen fit to point out the different areas where I’m not fully trusting in Him individually. That doesn’t mean that I’ve reached a point where I never doubt His intentions, but it does mean that I’m becoming less and less likely to take back what I’ve already handed over. Because after all,

I know You've washed me white, turned my darkness into light

I need Your peace to get me through, to get me through this night

I can't live by what I feel, but by the truth Your word reveals

I'm not holding on to You, but You're holding on to me

You're holding on to me

*I really need to write about expectations at some point. They’re, uh, tricky to handle and messy to uncover.

Part Three: The Blessed Shock

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Tue, 18 Sep 2012 22:34:00 +0000

A continuation of the Summer 2012 series. Catch up on Part Two.

My next upset came in the form of an article I read about how to Be A Blessing to Your Friends. I recommend reading it in full, but the title gives a great basic idea of the topic. I soon came across 2 Corinthians 13:14, “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”

The verse was pointed out to me after I had read the article, but the intertwining of the two – and the fact that I heard them the same morning from different sources – got me to thinking how my application of blessing was doing. Not super well was my verdict. Paul was intentional when he wrote the final verse in Chapter 13. He meant every word to the Corinthians. How could I do less for those whom I come across, especially those I claim to love, be trying to love?

I can’t. When my prayer for them is for them to be caught in the burning love of faith my consciousness of their souls becomes apparent and my love for them is able to grow through the strength of Christ not by my own power.

My morning of shock made me realize how little blessing I added to the lives of those around me. It could not have come at a better/worse time. [if that sentence confuses you please refer back to The SGB to gain insight]

I would love to just learn all my life lessons now, but alas the Lord teaches our slow brains gradually. In all honesty, it’s better that way. Things have more of a chance to sink in at least that’s how it is in my life. I need to see where I am lacking because if I don’t see it I cannot change it. I saw in a very real way that I have not made it my intention to be a blessing. If I have been that to anyone, it has been unintentional though I am hopeful I have blessed more than injured.

Ah, the worst of times. I did not want expend the effort to bless. There are many people in my life I do not want to be a blessing to or pray 2 Corinthians 13:14 over. Because I am selfish. I am wicked. My flesh often wins. Fortunately the God I serve commands obedience of all of me. Having given over my life to Him, the time it takes me to learn lessons seems to be shrinking. Though not as fast as I would like.

An added prayer, To Bless.

Part Two: Admitting

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Tue, 11 Sep 2012 20:16:00 +0000

A continuation of the Summer 2012 series. Catch up on Part One here.

I’ll try to muddle through this posting, but it’s more complicated and detailed than most others and the things I can/am willing to share in this atmosphere are limited.

This lesson came in Tennessee surrounded by high school kiddos. They were great. I loved getting to know them and spending time with them. I also loved being reminded how great college is. I am not the one who dreams of a do-over of the teen years.

I had already realized a big fear when it comes to the L word talked about previously, but what I hadn’t seen was a deeply rooted anger attached to that fear. As the fear dissipated my anger became more apparent. There were people I was not only mad at, but hated. I had never thought that much about who I was mad at or what I ought to do about it.

Obviously.

My reaction was to seethe inside. Maybe rant a little to my close friends. But to fully-completely-totally surrender my anger/hurt to the Lord? It just wasn’t done. Though I thought I had. [See The Song that Spoke to understand how God started opening my eyes, though this summer I realized just how deep the feelings went: beyond my heart and into my very soul muddying the waters.]

Oh I forgave those people a hundred times over, but that anger was never let go.

I saw it so completely after hearing several speakers for a high school convention. They all seemed to be pointing out the same thing to me – my sin. Not just that I am sinful, no, my specific sin. And I didn’t know what to do. I was supposed to be the mature one, the leader.

Leaders get broken too.

There was a night of confession toward the end of the week and I told the gathered group of girls mine – don’t worry, I wasn’t the only adult at this point. I didn’t want the attention focused on me, the week wasn’t about me, but I did need to admit aloud that I saw where my problems were coming from. After I spoke, the girls talked about their confessions and I loved them more.

Those girls still cross my mind often and my prayers more still. Though they’re young and so unaware in so many ways, their simple love and acceptance that week – of each other especially, but also towards me as an outsider – was juxtaposed to my hate in such a way that it glowed-ugly as I had never seen before.
I stayed up that night for quite some time. I’d like to say I prayed, but I didn’t for a long time. I sat. No thoughts, no meditation. Just still.

Then I confessed to my Father. It was so hard at first though I know He already saw everything. And for the first time in a long time I could breathe. And I cried.

Then I slept and knew that the battles were not over, but the Victor is my King.

Part One: A Call to Love

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Tue, 04 Sep 2012 17:46:00 +0000

This just may end up as multiple entries; the thoughts bouncing through my brain seem to cluster by the dozen. But then again, maybe those thoughts are to remain mine and to be let out only in other areas of my life.

Summer 2012 was one of stretching. Again. This is good, though I process things so much more slowly than they hit. The time at home flew by it seems with school for the first half then varied travels the second and work throughout. Lessons still managed to fit themselves in to my seemingly packed life.

My prayer when I started out the summer [keep in mind this morning didn’t come until mid-July] was to grow in love. I wanted and still desire to become a woman who loves everyone all the time especially when I don’t want to. Trust me, I still have tons of work to do, but I can already see improvement in my heart. My desire to grow in love didn’t start out because I realized I lacked it – I wish I was that aware of my failings! – but rather because I was to be chaperoning a group of high school girls to Tennessee for their church’s youth conference. I didn’t know them nor did I know the church they belonged to so I was nervous about how we would get along. So prayer started when I found out I would be going. For myself and for them. I wanted to be able to love them well because I knew that in loving well we lead well.

At the end of June, my cousin got married. Through the vacation for the wedding and in the month and a half before, my prayer had been to grow in love. I wanted to love more widely with more depth than I ever had. Dumbest thing I ever did! Okay, that’s not actually true, but it is how I feel sometimes, even now.

The ceremony was beautiful and his wife [so excited she’s part of the family!!] looked lovely throughout the night. The wedding made me want to get married, something quite foreign to my I-want-to-be-single-forever mindset. By the time my family made it back to the hotel I had convinced myself I merely wanted a party - a gathering of my friends and family with laughter, good food, and some dancing. I wasn’t craving any sort of relationship especially not one as intimate as that of a spouse. Talk about ridiculous for my life plan and situation.

Terrifying. Still is.

It only took me four days after the wedding to admit to myself it wasn’t a party I wanted. It was the marriage. And I didn’t even realize it until well into a conversation with my roommate. Cell phones really are categorized as common grace. My love had grown. And with that I started to become open to others loving me.

This lesson is – yep, I’m still working on it – deeply personal. It involves my heart... There are specific people this affects, much more than the general population. There are people I have loved poorly and I must ask forgiveness of. There are those I have pushed to the side of my heart when I ought to have given them all. Many of those relationships will never be what they could have been. Now I see the error in my philosophy. Now I realize just what I’ve missed.

My eyes have been opened.

After a summer of practice I am starting to see a habit: My capacity for love has grown. My realization of the need for love has grown. My desire to love, to be loved, has grown. My intentionality in loving those around me as grown. I feel it in my heart and see it in my still imperfect life.

Time

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Mon, 30 Jul 2012 02:58:00 +0000

A shocking amount may be said with a single photograph. Just as an amazing amount of freedom is to be found when such thin, defenseless scraps of paper are torn to pieces and finally laid to rest.

Lonesome for Heaven

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Thu, 26 Jul 2012 00:28:00 +0000

Life is about learning, and I love to learn. But I don’t always love life. That’s not to say I’m looking to the grave. No, rather I’m looking at Heaven. Days go by and more people I love now call it home. My paternal grandmother used to say she was lonesome for Heaven – she isn’t anymore. I am though.

Not heaven, but Chris Tomlin did a great jobleading worship at CHIC 2012

Heaven is something I love to think about, yet try to avoid. I could easily, have easily, spent hours daydreaming about what eternity will be like. How it will feel to sing praises to God as He sits on His throne. Imagine what a picnic with Ruth and Esther would be like. Tried to envision my heroes of the faith gathered around a campfire telling stories of how great our God is. Of just watching Jesus interact with the Father. What I picture is to me so filled with beauty there are tears blocking my vision and a cry choking my throat after having taken five seconds to write about them.

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.”*

Wow. The beauty that brings me to tears is dim compared with the true loveliness of Heaven. My vivid imagination cannot grasp what true beauty is, not where God is housed.

That leaves me with a startling realization. My longing for Heaven, to be so near God, while at its root is a right thing, I often use it wrongly. I was not made to sit on earth dreaming of Heaven. One day I will be able to marvel at my King’s majesty in person, but now, my mission is not to dream of my eternal home. My purpose on earth is single-minded – to bring Glory to my Father.

Sitting, gazing at the sunset imagining His home is not what I ought to be doing. Frankly, it’s a waste of my short time here. God created me to see things in my head, but not to keep them there. I am to bring them to all corners of the world at the very least the corners of my own social sphere.

I can see the splendor to come, but, for now, my focus is to be on the beauty that has been created here. To point with all I do toward the perfect, Scarred King.

*1 Corinthians 13:12 – how the great chapter on love finishes.

The SGB

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Sun, 22 Jul 2012 03:31:00 +0000

Sensitive people get to me; in a negative way. I can’t stand the wishy-washy, back-and-forth mindset that seems to pervade their life. The “what ifs” and “if only I’d...” thoughts that consume, if slowly, entire lives, I cannot handle it. I have realized why:

The mass confusion, the chaotic retracing maybes devour me regularly.

Often I call it “stupid girl-brain.” And no, it isn’t always to do with a love interest, but 99 percent of the time it is about some sort of relationship (fam, friends, and love.) The stupid girl-brain has a habit of overanalyzing a situation, a sentence, a look, until every possible meaning has been taken out and looked into for accuracy – according to the stupid girl-brain. Sometimes this even includes adding expressions and words the SGB “knows” the other person meant. My baby sister would refer to this as a face palm moment and as much as I agree with her, I don’t know how to turn off my SGB.

SGB: Even fries have something deep to say

Even as I write this I’m trying to imagine how the people I desperately need to understand this ridiculous part of me will react; SGB is saying be oblivious or pull a TLDR. And as silly as it is, it matters to me. What people say, the looks, the silence. Meaning is everywhere and only very rarely do people do things with no meaning. So I suppose I have trained myself to search for it. This talent comes in handy when people watching – be careful I pick up more than you want me to – but when it comes to people close to me, suddenly I can’t find North so to speak.

My certainty in meaning deserts me. Their flippant comments are really veiled insults, compliments must have hidden agendas and forget any casual conversation because that signals the end of a friendship. Usually I get over it pretty quickly and realize how silly I am acting because yes, thoughts do lead to actions and my messed up interpretations change how I act around and directly with people. Then there are other times when I clearly see what I am doing and how exaggerated and even unfounded my claims are, but on they go as insults rise.

Maybe I just like to sabotage my relationships. That way I can destroy the connection before I give the person a change to injure me. SGB usually kicks in during a time of growth in a relationship.

This is a problem.
I see it.
I need to change it.
One crazy, over-stepping thought at a time.

From one SGB, goodnight and may your reveries be beautiful as the world that embraces us.

Tired of Losing...

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Sat, 09 Jun 2012 04:39:00 +0000

We’re not really born with a fair shake, you know. We start out this life in teeny tiny little bodies that are completely defenseless then we grow into children who do not understand that cars whizzing by on the street are dangerous. Then onto teenagers fueled by junk food and raw emotion often ill-controlled. The twenty-something’s who think life is in the palm of their hands and their plans are the beautiful, world changing kind. Into our thirties we slow down a little bit, maybe have a family, maybe altered dreams completely, but the beauty is still there if a bit less dim. The forties and fifties, some say they’re the new twenties packed with whole new dreams about this new, wiser portion of life – the kids are growing up and that means more grown up time. Again. The sixties: grandbabies crying and the silver hair let’s opinions be heard with some respect. Seventy, eighty, ninety. The respect seems to dwindle as

Let the journey rage on

does ability. Dreams change to regrets and remembrances.

Life is somewhat predictable. Often disappointing. Not all get to reach each of the above sentences. The thing is life is not meant to be fair. It’s meant to be a journey. Mine may not be as long as yours, it may be double. Our strength is not the issue nor is our time to gain it. Rather it’s a discovery of why’s and of the greatest Truth to ever exist.

But still I’m trying.

“The great thing is, if one can, to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions in one's ‘own’ or ‘real’ life. The truth is, of course, that what one regards as interruptions are precisely one's life.” – C.S. Lewis

A to B, an Application

noreply@blogger.com (Emlee) — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 19:43:00 +0000

There’s a country song that talks about thanking God for unanswered prayers. I’ve always enjoyed it and looking back on my life I realize so many of my prayers were selfish and I am so thankful they did not come about as I had wished. But that’s not what I’m looking at in this point of my life. Today, well this season, I am looking at the prayers I fervently prayed that have been answered. Beyond just being answered, I even ‘got’ what I preferred. Now comes the second guessing. Should I have fought harder for option A even though I liked option B so much more? Was it because I wanted B that I let A slide by without actually attempting? Gah!

This is a fun stage of life. So many choices lie before me like an endless hallway of open doors yet I know that walking through one shuts seven others. What if I don’t like the door I go through? I’ll never know if another door would have been better – not after it’s closed. I did mean it when I said I thought this was a fun stage, terrifying, but fun. I’m young. I’m healthy. I have a life full of people and things I love. I can go anywhere and do just about anything (math teacher was ruled out early!) I just want to be sure that what I do, where I go, is what God wants of me.

I know that my life is meant to glorify Him. I can do that in any profession in any country or any part of this one. My heart pulls me in certain directions while my brain tells me to just wait and see. So I test the waters: all of them. I’m looking at grad schools all over. I’m considering taking time off from school to work. Then I reconsider grad school. I look at my friends, see their triumphs and mistakes and try to learn all I can. But all the learning in the world doesn’t mean a whole lot if I never get up the guts to apply it anywhere.

Next life lesson? Application. Along with about a thousand other things I need to learn to become who I ought to be.