Title Track: Everything is Spiritual
I never cry at songs. Sure, I sometimes cry during worship music, but I don’t think it is the lyrics or the melody that makes me cry. Jesus makes me cry – as a means of humbling me (not sadistically).
But while I first listened to Thrice’s song, “Beggars,” off of their album of the same name, my tear ducts began to fill and was just a stanza away from weeping.
This song – about how we have no claims in the world (not our name, not our possessions, not our job titles or careers) but must rely on the grace of God to give us purpose – knits the rest of Thrice’s album together. Grace. The world may be mad, as another song on the record screams, but there’s grace.
This got me thinking.
The title track of a CD is, by definition, the song that shares the same name as the album itself. Though I like to believe, and maybe you’ll agree with me, there’s more to it than that.
Some of my favorite albums of this year have title tracks like, “The Hazards of Love,” “Mean Everything to Nothing” and, as mentioned earlier, “Beggars.” To say that the band decided to name the album off of the song, or vise versa, just for its name’s sake seems thoughtless. It’s a little lazy.
There must be more to it than that.
There’s a connectivity involved here. The band is saying, look (or listen, rather), there’s something I want you to get out of this album. I want you to catch a theme.
—
It took all summer to decide what I wanted this column to stand for. Because on the one hand, I want to entertain you, and even more, if I were to be honest with myself, I hope this column will convince you I’m cool, or at least entertainment savvy.
But on the other hand, I want to grow. I want to become a better writer and a better Christian and a better media-consumer through writing this. So after some prayer, and God’s humbling, I decided upon a theme for my column, a “title track,” if you will: everything is spiritual. I admit I stole the name from Rob Bell, but I really like the concept.
This is the belief that everything – what we do, what we say, what we watch, what we read, what we hear and what we think – has spiritual implications.
Spirituality is God’s title track. It’s his common denominator. He says that we must do everything to the glory of God and that every good and perfect gift is from him and that he is the creator of everything.
I invite you all to journey with me the rest of this school year as I grapple with the media and its messages – the good and the bad. I ask you to challenge my theories, and to give feedback. Yes, this is a learning process for me, but I want it to be the same for you.
This is a column about the media – about movies and about music and books and art – but more than that, it’s about how God is speaking to his people through the media. It’s about how even secular entertainment can teach us about our fallenness. I want you and me to learn how to look at the media with a knowledge of the Truth, discerning what media is “safe” to consume, and what to stay away from.
Maybe this is a lot to ask of a weekly column, maybe it isn’t. One thing I promise you, my dear audience, is that I will do my best to implement the 1 Corinthians 10 command to do everything to the glory of God, and to hold to the standard that everything – even the entertainment industry – has spiritual undertones.
September 10, 2009 Leave a comment
on love and hate
As promised, here’s another blog about Grace.
September 1, 2009 Leave a comment
To all the purple states.
God willing, I will do this in an unbiased manner. But I am human and I clearly have certain opinions that you may not agree with. That being said, I hope you all take what I say to heart.
Last night Barack Obama was elected president of the United States. Some of you are cheering, some of you are booing. That’s fine. If all Christians were to vote the same way, I think we’d have a problem. There are certain issues I stand for that most of you might not. And vice versa. That’s okay.
But please, now that our president has been elected, I ask that we put a few things into perspective:
One: Obama is not our Savior.
Two: Obama is not the Devil.
Maybe that’s obvious to you, maybe it’s not. But based off of some very dramatic Facebook statuses, I’m not too sure you all get the picture. (And maybe even I can put myself into the first category.) I’m trying to do this with the gentleness and respect that I can, but bear with me because my passion can get the best of me.
There’s a problem when we think that we have elected a Savior as president. There is. If we are to say that we worship a Savior of the world, then bow our knee to a savior of our country, what does that say to the world? That we’re idolaters maybe? That sounds a little extreme, but when Christ calls us to follow Him, He kind of make it exclusive.
And yes, we are supposed to obey our authorities, I’m not telling you to do otherwise. But don’t say that Obama is the Hope for the world or anything like that because he is just a man.
Let’s flip the coin.
So if we AREN’T going to worship Obama, does that give you permission to hate him, rally against him, hate those who support him, call him rude names, etc.? Since you are a follower of Christ, you answer right away should be “no.” But I’ll assume you need more proof than that.
Paul writes this to the Romans:
“Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently, he who rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves.” Romans 13:1f
Some interesting tidbits: Paul wrote this during Nero’s rule in Rome. Now, Nero was notorious for killing Christians. Early Christians (and some modern historians) were convinced that he was the anti-Christ.
But Paul still urges the Romans to obey? And that Nero’s reign was “established by God”?
Now, that verse has been thrown at Dems and Repubs a lot through the years, I know. And it never makes me feel too hot either way. Especially when you take that verse and apply it to jerky bosses or profs. Submission sucks.
So let me give you another story …
Zedekiah was king of Judah just years before Babylonian captivity. Fifty-some years of captivity awaited them. And they all knew it. Jeremiah told them all.
So a lot of the people got mad. They hated Nebuchednezzar, king of Babylon, because he was going to take their freedom away. (Or maybe they called him a socialist!) Nevertheless, Jeremiah has a message for the people of Judah.
He tells them if they don’t obey Nebuchadnezzar, they will be punished via plague, sword, famine, etc. Why? Because God CHOSE Neb to rule. Chose him. God even calls him His “servant” (Jer. 25:8). That’s a pretty powerful title for a jerk of a king.
And think of ol’ David who had an opportunity to kill King Saul several times, but didn’t. He was the “Lord’s anointed.”
Perhaps I am being a little dramatic. None of you threatened to kill our president or anything, but I want you to understand the implications. God has a control in the election process just as much as you do. (Actually, with this electoral college thing, he has MORE of a hand than you. lol)
For all of those I ticked off, I’m sorry if I did. I just know that what’s on God’s heart right now is NOT lower property taxes or socialism-esque policies.
His heart is for the poor.
The mistreated.
The voiceless.
The dying.
The sick.
The abandoned.
Our passion and rage should be devoted to causes God cares about. Not just about who will work in the Oval Office for the next 4 years.
August 21, 2009 1 Comment
it is by Grace you have been saved, through faith
O Grace.
August 20, 2009 Leave a comment
What Matters More
I wanted to quote this song in my facebook status, but I thought it’d stir up more controversy than conviction. So I thought I’d blog about it instead.
Derek Webb (musican/activitist) released his new album digitally — and with it came a lot of drama. He wrote a song called “What Matters More” that not only speaks blatently against the Christian tendency to condemn homosexuals, but also uses two whole cuss words. (GASP!)
So, like I said, instead of just posting the lyrics so we can gawk at them (or nod in agreement), let’s discuss them. Yes, you and me. (Okay, just me. This is a one-way blog, after all.)
VERSE 1:
You say you always treat people like you like to be
I guess you love being hated for your sexuality
You love when people put words in your mouth
‘Bout what you believe, make you sound like a freak
‘Cause if you really believe what you say you believe
You wouldn’t be so damn reckless with the words you speak
Wouldn’t silently consent when the liars speak
Denyin’ all the dyin’ of the remedy
What if we treated people the way we wanted to be treated? No really, what if we actually followed the golden rule? What if we stopped using the word “gay” as a synonym for stupid?
After reading The Unlikely Disciple by Kevin Roose, I started noticing how often people use “gay” to mean all these negative things. And after reading that book, it started getting on my nerves. Gosh, whether or not we believe it’s God’s will for guys to like guys and girls to like girls, we have no excuse to mock their lifestyle by turning it into a cuss word.
I believe that the greatest two commandments are to love God and to love others. And to love others, I think that means to treat them with respect.
CHORUS:
Tell me, brother, what matters more to you?
Tell me, sister, what matters more to you?
And here’s the question: What matters more to God, do you think? That people know what they’re doing is wrong or that they can be offered freedom through Christ?
And what makes us think that telling people they’re living in sin will bring them any closer to the cross of Christ?
What matters more to you?
VERSE 2:
If I can tell what’s in your heart by what comes out of your mouth
Then it sure looks to me like being straight is all it’s about
It looks like being hated for all the wrong things
Like chasin’ the wind while the pendulum swings
Again, the first two lines hold the punch. Why are we Christians known for our anti-homosexuality more than for our loving kindness and mercy? Does this seem right at all?!
I know that God is a God of justice. I know that he HATES sin so, so much … but I also believe that there’s grace. And I believe that it’s offered freely. And that I sin. And that you sin. And that God cloaks us with his grace, if we accept it.
I believe there’s forgiveness.
And I believe we should be talking about this more than anything else, friends. More than anything.
VERSE 2.5:
‘Cause we can talk and debate until we’re blue in the face
About the language and tradition that he’s comin’ to save
Meanwhile we sit just like we don’t give a shit
About 50,000 people who are dyin’ today
Lines 3-4 were taken from a Tony Campolo quote that says, “I have three things I’d like to say today: First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don’t give a shit. What’s worse is that you’re more upset with the fact that I said shit than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night” (“The Positive Prophet,” Christianity Today).
I think of chapter 12 of Lord, Save Us From Your Followers when documentarian Dan Merchant creates a confession booth like Don Miller did in Blue Like Jazz. But Merchant created it at a gay-pride festival.
Merchant sits in this booth apologizing for the way the Church has acted toward the gay community. He apologizes for gay jokes and for lack of help with the AIDS epidemic. He apologizes for not showing Christ’s love.
And he’s forgiven.
Everyone he talks to forgives him.
Are we that forgiving?
(I do say it’s a beautiful chapter – all of it. I remember reading it early last school year, late at night, wanting to cry and to build my own booth.)
The chapter concludes with a quote from none other than Tony Campolo. He says, “You don’t have to legitimate someone’s lifestyle in order to love that person, to be brother or sister to that person and then stand up for that person.”
And I conclude my blog with the words of Jesus Christ:
“I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25:40
August 15, 2009 Leave a comment
;hope
Our God is a God who saves; from the Sovereign LORD comes escape from death. Psalm 68:20
—
I present this blog as a comfort to my friends who are discouraged. May God grant you hope and peace during this time of transition. Hang in there, chicas.
—
Hope, next to Redemption, is my favorite theme in the Bible. I love that though things seem impossible, when people cry to God, He hears them. He saves. He rescues.
I love that in the midst of God’s judgment in the Hebrew Scriptures there’s still a promise of hope. Hosea’s adulterous wife is forgiven. Ezekiel sees dead bones come alive. The weeping prophet promises us a hope and a future.
Zechariah calls us prisoners of hope — no escaping.
And then Jesus Christ promises full life in him. He offers a “new way to be human,” as the band Switchfoot sings. He gives us a new purpose: to be fishers of men, instead of fish. He flips culture upside down, telling us to give Caesar what is Caesar’s, to turn the other cheek and give all our money to the poor. He invites us in on an adventure with Him and His Father; he lets us in on a perfect, triune relationship — He gives us His Spirit.
Christ heals us; he forgives us. When the woman poured the perfume over Jesus’ feet and wept, cleaning His feet with her tears and hair, He told her that her sins are forgiven.
Your faith has saved you; go in peace. Luke 7:50b
I remember Pastor Paul’s sermon on this verse. He said that as Christians we tend to get “caught up in the semicolon” — we forget the verse continues after our pardon.
We tend to dwell on the bad we’ve done, or the bad we’re witnessing or the bad we think is around the corner.
But Jesus says, “Go in peace.”
There’s hope there.
He’s saying that though things were rough,
though we needed saving,
everything’s going to be okay.
No really, I hear Jesus pleading, IT’S GOING TO BE OKAY.
I get that things are hard. I get that change, even positive or mediocre change, can be hard. I get it. But Jesus asks us to go in peace. He wants us to have hope that He has things under control.
Because he does.
—
Try not to feel good when thou art not good, but cry to Him who is good.
Prisoner of Hope, it won’t be long now
Prisoner of Hope, you can be strong now
—
The Armstrongs — I thank you so much for all that you’ve done for me and for Northeast. If I tried to name specifically all the lessons you’ve taught me, this blog would go on for thousands upon thousands of words. (So I’ll keep this generic!) But I really do thank you; my faith has grown on account of you.
Please stay in touch, and enjoy California.
Oh, and Paul, good luck with the Marines.
In Him with Love,
Lauren Deidra
Ezekiel
July 19, 2009 Leave a comment
forget the plowshare.
I was watching ONE TREE HILL with my sister this afternoon – which is a mistake therein itself – when I finally began understand what really is going on with me.
I mean, with my fields dying.
Recap: I blogged about this earlier in the month, about how God has on three separate occasions told me to let die my dream of working for RELEVANT. But, two of those three times God has revived it. My dream has lived on. But now this third time I think it’s finally dead. I mean, really dead.
Will I intern with them still? Who knows. Will I ever get to shake hands with Cameron Strang? Uh, maybe not.
Turns out RELEVANT is not a magical place to work. Turns out they are a business with a profit motive. (I know Prof. Perry would be saying “I told you so.”) I guess I just thought that since RELEVANT was kind of like a ministry they should treat it like a ministry. Fail.
Anyway, like I said, I was watching ONE TREE HILL with Sam and in the episode basketball star Nathan Scott had been in an accident of some sort and is now bound to a wheelchair, unable to play the sport. He’s bitter throughout the entire episode, drinking way too early in the morning and whatnot. He’s basically a whiner. It’s kind of annoying. (I really dislike this show.)
But at one point in the episode, he goes over to a bookshelf full of trophies and plaques that he had won as a basketball star and starts pulling everything off in a wild rage, his wife and son scared in the next room.
Wow, I thought to myself, what a drama queen.
Here’s this guy in his early twenties who’s been in an accident (though, he will be able to walk again) and his concern is not for the well-being of his family, but for his own pride that was shot to the ground.
I’m sorry Nathan Scott that your boyish dreams died.
But then that got me thinking.
My dreams, like Nathan’s, are dead.
The life I dreamed for myself at age 17 isn’t the life I’m going to have when I’m 25.
It’s just not.
The fields died for Nathan,
just like they died for me.
But, of course, this isn’t the lesson I learned from this show. Because, as stated before, I already learned that my dreams needed to die – and they have – whether I like it or not. But I have not thrown anything off a bookshelf lately. And I have little desire to do so.
Nathan went into that wild rage not just because his dreams died but because he found his identity in those dreams. And when those dreams died, he felt empty. And worthless. And visionless. And un-human.
That’s kind of how I feel right now. I mean, I like having a dream to fight for. I like knowing what I’m going to do in 5 years.
But I have also learned the dangers of finding my identity in my dreams instead of Christ. Maybe that’s why I’m not throwing anything. I’m so upset that this dream has died, but I’m not the one that’s dead –
Just my dreams.
God, I pray that I can accept this season of my life. I hate not having something like that to hope for, but I pray I can find peace in you and nothing else. Help me grow. Help me find my identity in you alone. Remind me that nothing else matters.
June 18, 2009 2 Comments
Biblical Mad Libs
I am re-reading parts of SEARCHING FOR GOD KNOWS WHAT by Don Miller (because I need reminded of some Truths he brings up) and it inspired me to create this: Biblical Mad Libs. Feel free to print this off and fill the blanks in manually.
1. Your name
2. Your best friend’s name
3. Name of respected member of your church
4. Name of respected member of your affiliated political party
5. Someone whose lifestyle and/or beliefs you disagree with (i.e. a pro-choice activist, peacemonger, warmonger, gay activist, member of rival political party, etc.)
6. Automobile type
7. City of birth
8. Favorite place to travel to
9. Type of ointment (i.e. Neosporin)
On one occasion ___(1)___ stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” ___(1)___ asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”
___(1)___ answered: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.'”
“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
But ___(1)___ wanted to justify him(/her)self, so ___(1)___ asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
In reply Jesus said: “___(2)___ was going down from ___(7)___to___(8)___, when he/she fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him/her of his/her clothes, beat him/her and went away, leaving him/her half dead. ___(3)___ happened to be going down the same road, and when he/she saw ___(2)___, he/she passed by on the other side. So too, ___(4)___, when he/she came to the place and saw___(2)___, passed by on the other side. But ___(5)___, as he/she traveled, came where ___(2)___ was; and when ___(5)___saw___(2)___, he/she took pity on him/her. ___(5)___went to him/her and bandaged his/her wounds, pouring on ___(9)___. Then ___(5)___put ___(2)___ in his/her own___(6)___, took him/her to an inn and took care of him/her. The next day ___(5)___took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after___(2)___,’ he/she said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to ___(2)___ who fell into the hands of robbers?”
___(1)___ replied, “The one who had mercy on ___(2)___.”
Jesus told___(1)___, “Go and do likewise.”
The End.
P.S. Sorry if you’re uncomfortable taking out words of the Bible and putting in new ones. I can see how that seems a little — uhh — heretical. BUT, the story doesn’t lose its truthfulness this way, now does it?
June 16, 2009 Leave a comment
The Mirror
Hello, friends.
I wanted to start this blog with a forward to stop those who might criticize the following. This isn’t for you; this is a testimony to who God’s shaped me into and a testimony to who I am becoming. Maybe I’m too honest in it, maybe I’m not honest enough. Whichever way you see it, please keep the hate to yourself.
I’ve never written anything that has opened my eyes like this piece. It has shown me how far I’ve come in the past four years … and it’s showing me how far away I still am. Tonight, while flipping through an old journal of mine, I realized that my pursuit of my identity started with a boy — Adam. I wanted to know who I am before dating him. I never dated Adam. Nor have I “found myself.” I’m intrigued by how God has used these gentlemen (Adam and others) to show me who I am.
So, without further ado. …
“The Mirror”
By Lauren Sawyer
My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,
The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love …
These come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself
– Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself” –
The hurricane of bath water filling the tub only makes me turn my music up louder: the punk-rock I’m so fond of at this time, the heartbreak the artist squeals. It fits my mood. I’m a romantic even at fourteen.
I am in eighth grade, thinner than I know, with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair – straight in the winter, wavy in the humid summer. Nothing about me categorizes me as either beautiful or repulsive, save for the metal brackets glued to my teeth. (My orthodontist let me get colored rubber bands only once, and I chose gold – the same color as the food particles stuck between the grooves.)
Still, plenty of other girls have braces and I don’t feel any different than them. So I smile in the mirror in front of me – and sing.
I sing a love song for my future husband and a love song for the God I already know. I change audiences as I sing, knowing that both God and this boy would appreciate my song. No one can hear me outside the locked bathroom; my singing is muffled. My middle school prayers are disguised by the water and song.
This is my ritual. Bath time is set aside to be alone with myself and with God, when my mind muddles through memories of this day and expectations for the next. I dream now; I sing my love songs and pray now. It’s my special time-oasis. It’s my Walden Pond.
I stand across from the sink wearing cotton shorts and a lace camisole that fits too loosely at the top. I keep my socks on for irony, contrasting my long, bare legs bending in at the knees. I twirl in pirouettes twice before adjusting my look in the mirror – I twist tiny braids into the crown of my hair. There. Perfect.
Skipping back to the tub, I release a few inches of water to add more time to my pre-bath ritual. I’m back by the sink, looking at myself curiously in the mirror. My journal, the flimsy red thing I hid beneath my towel, is pulled out and I begin writing:
Dear Jesus, I know who I’m going to marry.
And I do. His name is David and he’s a musician. He wears a modern-day beatnik beanie with curly brown hair peeking out; his muscles bulge at the biceps. I write down his characteristics: blue-eyed, shy, respectful, funny, smells good. I push aside the notebook and stare at myself in the mirror.
I make faces as I always do. My favorite is the tiger growl (I wiggle my fingers accordingly). I scrunch up my nose or bite my lip, attempting an endearing look like the girl-next-door in the movies. I practice flirting with my eyes – something I have yet to accomplish.
My bathwater’s nearly full, but I must play with my hair once more before immersion; I push the fibers into a dramatic pouf. I make a fierce model face then promptly splash into the tub.
My ritual’s complete, but it’s to be repeated tomorrow and the next day. For four more years I dance in front of that bathroom mirror, praying and singing to both God and man, with no distrust for the reflection before me. I love myself in the way a healthy girl should.
But slowly, like the dripping of a broken faucet, my confidence began to wane. My ability to stare blankly into my face and at my half-clothed body became increasingly difficult. By college I was afraid to look.
—
I am in tenth grade and I have found true love.
In May of last year I decided to create a Myspace page to track down a high school senior, one I had heard about for years from my sister who had a crush on him. His name is Adam Parker and he is the greatest guy ever.
We talked on Myspace for over a month before meeting. And the night we did meet – a group of twenty high school students arranged a capture-the-flag game in my neighborhood – the first words I heard out of Adam Parker’s mouth were: “Where’s Lauren?”
We stood out in the humid air, agreeing on rules and team names. My hair had turned from silky to coarse in a matter of moments, and my shirt refused to disguise the sweat stains under my arms. My metal smile greeted him. “Hi.”
He reminds me of David, my husband from two years ago, the one so delicately described by my bathroom sink. He doesn’t like me the way I think he ought to, but I know I matter to him. He tells me all the time:
“You inspire me, Lauren.”
“You are so wise for your age.”
—
I’m a junior now and a master at ping-pong. My boyfriend Luke and I play whenever he comes over. We don’t keep score, but if we did, I’m sure I’d win. Sometimes he hits the ball across the room just so he can watch me chase it, and then he runs up and hugs me.
After a few weeks as “exclusive friends” – which, despite not knowing what that meant, gave me something to think fondly of in class – Luke cut short one of our ping-pong games. Once he whispered to me his plan, he walked up stairs and asked my mom permission to date me.
Luke buys me things to show his affection: a necklace, a DVD, dinner, a slushy. Or sometimes he slips notes or gas money into my pocket, as if I don’t notice. But most of the time, Luke and I walk through our neighborhoods talking and arguing and holding hands.
—
I’m still a junior, but Luke and I broke up. We started fighting, mostly about my best friend. She doesn’t like Luke very much. Everything is so confusing. I want to make everyone happy – my friend, Luke – but I’m the one suffering.
Tonight we sit tightly on that green leather sofa, my best friend on my right, Luke not five feet away.
“I hate him,” she tells me. I think she smiled. “Well, I hated him.” She reemphasizes the past tense to make me feel better. I don’t feel better.
Luke and I dated for four months – only two we called “official” in fear of my best friend throwing a fit. She didn’t like the way he came over every Monday night or joined us at youth group and answered all the questions in Sunday school.
“But I liked him,” I reply, not emphasizing the past tense. “Actually, I still kind of like him.” I get up from the couch and talk to another friend – not looking at her, not looking at Luke.
—
I haven’t had a date in front of the mirror in a while.
—
It’s summer and I am seventeen years old. I haven’t had a boyfriend since Luke, but I don’t care very much. I am a single woman; I can woo any boy I like.
Today’s the third day of a nine-day mission trip in Slidell, Louisiana where I’m teaching Vacation Bible School to young Katrina victims. Outside it’s a limitless sauna, so I do my best to stay indoors to tame my frizzy hair. I haven’t taken a shower all week, I have proudly announced to my friends. Not because I am a bra-burning feminist, but because of the cockroaches. They love the shower stall more than me.
But even without a shower and with my hair, which is cut short in a bob and responding like a 70’s afro, I manage to attract the attention of a boy.
His name is John Derek and he is Matthew McConaughey – in both looks and attitude.
He’s lying on the floor, elbows propping him up, playing a handheld video game. Charming, I know, but I still want him to notice me. I myself lay down, at least three feet away, and pretend I’m caught up in something else. I pull out my cell phone and begin texting no one at all.
I squirm closer – he doesn’t notice.
I army crawl an inch, two inches, three until John Derek notices me. “Hi.”
He turns back to his game. “Hi.”
I lean over his shoulder and ask what he’s playing. Pokémon, I think. I somehow see past the geekyness to ask him how to play.
He tells me, seemingly uninterested, but he puts the game aside. Then we engage in what I can only describe as a “flirting war” – one of those awkward-for-everyone-else-but-the-people-involved bustles of quips, poking, tickling, giggling and blushing. It carries on the rest of the night and most of the week.
Until my best friend told me it wasn’t worth it. He did live a thousand miles away, and he did flirt with all the other girls. And besides all that, he wasn’t really my type – jerky, manipulative … good-looking.
In an attempt at self-respect, I spent the final two days of the trip far away from John Derek. I had friends act as body guards, standing in the way whenever he got too close to me.
I left Louisiana without saying goodbye to John Derek. I think with him, though I had maintained dignity by not flirting with an unattainable boy, I left a part of my vulnerability. After that week I forgot that I was pretty enough to flirt.
—
High school is behind me; I have graduated. I gave up on finding a high school sweetheart and have pursued only friendships with guys.
Meet Matt. He’s in an on-again, off-again relationship with my best friend, but for most of our friendship they haven’t been together. Matt and I are close – really close – except nothing physical takes place. We’re just always together: getting coffee every weekend, seeing movies on boring evenings and texting till midnight.
Until now.
My finger dances on the plastic lid of my latte cup. He is speaking, but I’m trying not to listen. I swirl the cup around, imagining the brownish funnel the coffee is making inside. I guess how many sips were left: three? four? I take one for myself, the lukewarm cream dissolving in my mouth before making it to my throat. Just one.
Now it’s empty.
Now I’m forced to look at him and listen to his story.
He’s leaving me again, for her. It’s not that we were dating … I have no desire to actually date him … at least not admittedly. But when Matt went back to my best friend for the third time, leaving me dateless for the eighteenth month – well, now I’m lonely.
—
Welcome to college.
I expected nothing less than a dozen dates lined up by the first day of classes. I am in college and all college girls are pretty and worth dating – except me. I ho-hum through the first semester, finding plenty of crushes and very few dates.
My best friend isn’t here to weed out the losers. There are no Adam Parkers or Lukes to declare my importance. Matt is back at home, miles away, with his girlfriend.
And I am without a bathroom of my own; I’m stuck sharing it with my two roommates who wouldn’t understand my singing or my silly face-making.
I figure I need to do some soul-searching: to learn how to see myself in a new way, to learn how to find a mirror that casts my own reflection, not the reflection of others’ view of me. For too long I’ve relied on other people to define who I am.
I am not just the girl who crushes after a certain boy, or just the girlfriend of another. I am my own person, if only I knew who that was. I need to find myself and know myself as an individual.
I need a new bath time ritual.
I need a new song to sing.
June 11, 2009 Leave a comment
letting the fields die
To heck with brevity.
I know as a journalist I need to learn how to make the most impact with the fewest words, but as a storyteller I refuse to. God has been moving in these past few weeks, and I don’t want to cut anything out — for His sake, if not mine.
The other day, and for at least the third time since I was seventeen, God has told me to let the fields die.
In the Law of Moses, God commands the Israelites to set aside the seventh year as a Sabbath Year in order to let the fields take a break. No pruning or reaping is allowed; land must be left as is. Farmers have been working hard for six years and it’s time now for rest — to “sit down,” as Pastor Paul might allude (Heb. 8:1).
And so, like God commanded the Israelites, God wants me to take a Sabbath from personal “field” — my ambition.
I have wanted to work for RELEVANT Magazine since I was seventeen. My ambition has led me to base a lot of decisions on what I know I need to do to achieve that goal. Sometimes my decisions were insignificant and quirky. (In the summer after eleventh grade, for example, Ashley and I made cakes made to look like each member of the RELEVANT Podcast, including Cara Davis’ unborn baby, “Mavis Davis,” and tagged the crew on Facebook.) Sometimes they were a little more serious. (I emailed CEO Cameron Strang and told him everything I was doing to prepare myself for the job and followed his advice to the tee.)
The year later I made more drastic decisions like joining the high school newspaper staff, taking a college-level writing course, writing into the RELEVANT Podcast (see episode 4.18.08) and declaring journalism as my major. (After all, Cameron was a journalism major as well.)
This year, of course, I worked even harder. I got a position on my college newspaper staff, took a magazine writing class, emailed Chad from RELEVANT more times than I can count, asked former/current RELEVANT interns questions, applied/received the A&E position for next year’s newspaper staff and worked way too hard at keeping my grades up.
But sometimes God tells me to let my fields die.
The first time I remember him doing this was last summer, in August, when Adam Smith moved to New Zealand. I wrote a blog about this, of course, saying how I was devestated that my very favorite member of the RELEVANT Podcast was leaving for good. I’m pretty sure I cried when I found out.
But more than that, for the first time since my dream formed, I began questioning whether or not this was really my calling. Does God really want me to work there? Am I really a good writer? I ended my blog with this:
The questions kept coming. I know that I just need to trust God–there’s no doubt about that. I know what it is to close my eyes and jump, and that’s what I’m going to have to do. I don’t like it, but if I am truly going to call Christ my Savior, I’m going to have to just go–go wherever he says to go.If it’s to RELEVANT, then that’s where I’m supposed to be.
If not, then I pray he prepares me for somewhere else.
I let go. I let God take my dreams (my ambitions) just in case they needed revising. God knows that when I love something passionately, I refuse to let go. So every few months he kindly asks me to let the fields die, and I find myself obeying.
Five days after that night, God spoke to me through Haggai. He told me to pick up my plowshare.
I have always equated the Book of Haggai with my life calling; Pastor Tom used the book to teach me that years ago. So when Tom covered the topic again in the “Majoring in the Minors” sermon series last summer, I knew God had something to say. He did. I had always looked at my calling (Ezekiel) and my career (magazine writer) as two separate dreams. God said they’re one.
My seven years started over and my fields revived.
January happened, but I will spare you most of the details for time’s sake and to protect those involved. I emailed one of my favorite writers, a former writer for RELEVANT, who after one comment I had made told me that perhaps RELEVANT isn’t the dreamland workplace I thought it was. I told him that he crushed my dreams, which he did, but in goodwill. God, again, told me to let the fields die.
That was Monday, and by Wednesday God once again revived my calling. It’s hard to believe I learned everything I needed to in just two days, but I did. It was Summit Week at school and I learned more spiritual truths in those few days than I had the rest of the semester, sadly.
Wednesday night the topic was on dreams, based off the Book of Daniel:
Big Ideal: Dreams come only with difficulty and delayBold Action: Chase your dreams anyway
And the conclusion I came upon:
I’m not supposed to change my dream. Granted, I’m not supposed to bow down and worship it either … but God place it in my heart for a reason. And I need to fight for it!
My seven years started over and my fields revived.
So now here I am. Two days ago I found out that Chad from RELEVANT no longer works there. Of course I’m anxious to know why, but am in no place to inquire why, so I sit here thinking up horror stories. Chad is who I wanted to be. He used to be a fan of the magazine and the podcast, then he became an intern, then he worked there and practically ran the show when Cameron was on sabbatical. And now?
I began asking those questions again: Is this where I’m supposed to be? What does God want me to do? Should I change my major? Do I really love this? Can I work somewhere else?
The fields are still at rest, and I suppose they will be for a while. Now that God has revealed the reason behind my crises of ambition, I think these periods are going to last longer. At least, this one might.
THE LESSON:
Congratulations for making it this far. I’ll try to make this brief because I feel like the blog itself shows what I have learned more than anything.
God does not want us to worship anything but Him. Period. If I have learned anything in the past few years it’s that. I have a strong tendency to bow down to whatever intrigues me at the moment, and have spent time serving the RELEVANT god instead of Jesus Christ. Taking a break from my dreams has shown me how far I’ve fallen from what God wants of me and my ambitions. He wants me to use them for Him, not for myself.
Being vulnerable is okay. Letting things die is how they come back stronger. One of my favorite snippets of the Gospels is Jesus’ statement that every seed must first die before it may grow. Dreams work the same way. If I’m willing to let God take the reigns, they I know my dreams will be steered in the right direction.
God knows what’s best — I cannot forget that.
My world may seem like it’s falling apart, but it’s not.
My dreams may seem to be stalling or falling short, but they’re not.
They’re resting.
Just for a little bit.
ezekiel.
May 22, 2009 Leave a comment