between the river and the ravens I’m fed
It’s really hard to write when nothing’s going on.
I’m used to being fed up with something or obsessing over some new found philosophy I can write about for three blogs in a row. But not right now. School’s out, I don’t have a job, my reading’s been light and uninspiring (ah, no offense, brilliant writers from whom I’m reading) and I’m not really enraged about anything. I usually am about this time. Last year I was going through my anti-politics kick, the year before that (and the year before that) I was frustrated by everyone’s lack of faith. (Or something like that.)
I have spent most of my summer (so far) running errands, listening to music, reading, watching the news, watching TV, drinking coffee, redoing my Web site, inviting myself to people’s houses, applying for jobs and eating cake. Not simultaneously, though that would be funny.
Anyway, my goals for this summer included writing every day (fail), reading three different magazines (fail, fail), submitting articles for publication (augh, fail) and reading nine books (I’m still doing okay). I want this summer to matter (as I say every year) but it can’t get much liftoff without money to make it matter.
Here comes the punchline.
Yesterday my state tax return came – and not a moment too soon. I’m not broke – yet – but I will be soon if I don’t get a job. Sure, I’d be fine if I didn’t drive anywhere, ever. But if I stay at home all summer I might go crazy.
I’ve been selling textbooks, too, periodically, which has put a little bit of money into my account at the end of the month.
I smiled as I folded the state-issued check into my wallet because I knew that I had just enough to get by. I can still afford gas to get to my Wednesday night Bible study at Ruthanne’s and I can afford to buy at least one or two presents for all the weddings and grad parties I have to go to (ahh!). But I don’t have enough to waste on crap.
I have enough.
And it’s beautiful.
But really hard, too.
Part of me is so frustrated that I haven’t found a job yet, but the other part of me is excited by the discipline. I’ve never had a steady job. I work freelance or seasonal or the darn business shuts down. I’m learning to be flexible, to have to depend on God.
It’s great, but it’s so scary too.
Hopefully, hopefully I’ll still get a job so that I can participate in more this summer.
But even if not, I will have to keep trusting.
Lauren
Between the river and ravens I’m fed Sweet deliverer, you lift up my head and lead me in your way
May 12, 2009 Leave a comment
idolatry.
I wonder if you remember my blog from September when I promised to do everything to the glory of God. I wrote:
I want my college experience–my going-to-class, homework-ing, studying, note-taking–to be my spiritual act of worship.
I decided that just a month into school, promising to work my hardest to make that possible. And you know what? I succeeded. I worked so hard, didn’t let myself get lazy. I was an overachiever, ambitious, a great student.
But I also worshiped my GPA.
Here’s a lesson in idolatry.
Idolatry is one of those sins that kind of sneaks up on you. It’s unintentional, that’s for sure, but it’s also incredibly stealthy. I don’t set out to commit idolatry, it just seems to happen.
This has been one of my more casual sins for some time. I get really excited about certain things – I’m passionate – but it turns deadly after quite some time. It starts to consume me. My dream to work for RELEVANT, for example, has become an idol for my a lot. I just want to work there so bad … I get so caught up with that, instead of the big picture, and instead of looking to God who will equip me for that job.
I think of Aaron and the golden calf. We learned in BIL101 that the Israelites weren’t trying to worship the calf when Aaron formed it out of gold, rather, they were trying to worship God through the golden calf. Calves were used as a pedestal for a god to sit upon, not as a god itself. The Israelites hoped to have a sort of visual aid for worshiping God, not realizing that he cannot be contained to a tiny golden altar.
How often do we do that? We see the good in our jobs or our dreams, our hardwork or successes, but instead of worshiping God for them, we worship the thing itself. We think we’re trying to worship God through the calf, but we end up falling to our knees and worshiping the thing created before us.
May 10, 2009 Leave a comment
heart is scarred by duel volition
I don’t know how to begin this blog. I really just have a lot of word vomit to throw at you all, but that way probably won’t be the most effective.
I finished a piece for my magazine writing class that affected me like nothing else I’ve written since the infamous “secret book” some of you have been dying to read (or have yelled at me over). But this new piece I started writing about my lack of self-esteem – how it has waned over the past few years – but it ended up showing me how much of my identity I search for in other people. How I made beauty relative to my circumstances.
It started in middle school. Looking back I thought I had all the self-esteem in the world. I rocked my style: tiny braids in my long hair, trucker hats, low-cut tops with camisoles, wristbands with safety pins, baggy khaki pants from Aeropostle and in eighth grade, when I cut my hair short so I’d look like Scully from the X-Files, I wore button blouses all the time.
Oh, I had class.
But did I have self-esteem? Did I believe I was worth anything?
Maybe more than I do now, but not much more. I really hate admitting it – because I think I rock more than you know – but all through high school I was looking for my identity in everything but God.
I looked for it in crushes.
I looked for it in boyfriends.
I looked for it in Ashley.
I looked for it in Tom.
I looked for it in pride.
I looked for it in Christianity.
But it’s not the same as finding your identity in Christ. To find yourself in Christ, well, if I knew exactly what that looked like it’d be easier for me to obtain. I could even be there already. I could see that I have value no matter how annoying my stupid hair is or whether or not I have friends or good grades or if that hot kid in soc will freaking look at me.
Ugh.
I stumbled upon my Xanga page. My second one, the one I made after I started liking Luke. I hate that in so many areas I got it – I knew that God is the only one I need to live for – but at the same time I was self-righteous. I was mean to Luke, I was mean to Ashley and Amanda. But I clung to God. But I clung to a part of God. Or, I clung with a part of me. Or something.
Who am I?, because I don’t know.
I feel like that God-hungry, Scripture-memorizing child of God I was back then isn’t me any more. But neither am I that unconsciously cruel. Or am I?
I am bitter. I hate all peppy Christians. I am confused. I wish things made sense.
But I still cling to God with whatever’s left of me. Not because I need to prove anything to you, but because I don’t have any other choice. This is hard, sir. Please help me.
I’m broken, but guess what:
When I’m broken, then I will be made whole.
To go high, you must first go deep.
So here I am.
ezekiel the enamored.
I know you feel like you’re broken and you don’t have purpose in this world anymore. I know you’d rather indulge in comforts that aren’t stable and won’t ever save you. But I can’t have you like that. I need you to turn around and find comfort in me. Stop your pity party and come back to me. I miss you.I know we haven’t been close like we have in the past and that scares you. But why do you run away? If you know we’re drifting apart, why do you wander farther and farther from me? I want to be gracious and I want to romance you, but you’ve given up. What have I done?
Can’t you focus on me for just five minutes? I love you, that’s why I need you to get this. I know you have other things going on that demand your attention. I made life that way, you know. But I need you. I can’t be without you. Come back, Love, and let us walk together like we used to. Let us be in love again.
I know I seem distant, especially when things in life are so hectic. But I’m here. I’m always here. I’m waiting for you to love me in return. I want to talk to you. I want to get close to you again.
You haven’t fallen as far as you think you have. Just return to me and we’ll forget about the past. It’ll just be you and me forever. That’s what I want, Love. Just for us to be so in love again. [Sept. 17, 2006]
April 7, 2009 Leave a comment
Do you love me?
When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these?”
“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”
I love when Don Miller, in his book Searching for God Knows What, talks about this passage. He reads back farther, though, looking at the entire chapter of John 21:
Afterward Jesus appeared again to his disciples, by the Sea of Tiberias. It happened this way: Simon Peter, Thomas (called Didymus), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples were together. “I’m going out to fish,” Simon Peter told them, and they said, “We’ll go with you.” So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus.
He called out to them, “Friends, haven’t you any fish?”
“No,” they answered.
He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.” When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.
Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, “It is the Lord,” he wrapped his outer garment around him (for he had taken it off) and jumped into the water. The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish, for they were not far from shore, about a hundred yards. When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.
Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you have just caught.”
Simon Peter climbed aboard and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” None of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord. Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time Jesus appeared to his disciples after he was raised from the dead.
Did you know that the writer mentions the word “fish” 8 times in 14 verses? That sounds like a pretty strange observation to make … especially since the chapter is about fishing. But maybe it had a purpose. And why did the writer mention the exact number of fish the men caught (153)? John may have just been recording facts but, as all journalists know, you don’t just throw in random data without having a purpose.
So this whole fish business led author Don Miller to conclude that maybe in verse 15 (as quoted at the top of the blog) Jesus is referring to the fish: Simon … do you truly love me more than these [fish]?
And that always gets me thinking.
Lauren, daughter of Natalie, do you love me more than your iPod?
… more than your hot fudge sundae poptarts?
… more than comfort? suburbia? your dreams?
… more than writing?
And I answer the way that Simon Peter does: Yes, Lord, you know that I love you as a brother [philo].
We know that there are different translations for love in the Greek: philo (brotherly), eros (romantic) and agape (unconditional). And when Peter answers that first time, he tells Jesus what I tell him: I love you like muh bro’!
But unconditionally?
The question I’ve been asking myself most recently is — and I’m being transparent with you — would I be okay with being single the rest of my life? When I see all the engaged couples at IWU, it’s really, really hard to ask myself that question. Because I know the answer. And I’m ashamed of it.
Would I love God if I had to stop writing? If I never worked for RELEVANT? If he called me to get out of my comfort zone?
In an ideal world, yes, I’d love God agape. I’d die to myself every day; I’d forget about my own dreams and look to Him; I’d be happy being single; I’d always serve the people around me. But that’s in an ideal world, and I don’t live in an ideal world.
It’s really hard to forget about your own wants sometimes.
It’s Lenten season. Welcome.
It’s a time for sacrifice and remembering what Christ did for us because of our self-love.
Let’s take time to wrestle with this, to see what God wants us to give up (like sin) or pick up (like love).
with love, ezekiel.
February 26, 2009 2 Comments
Dear Sex,
A from-the-heart commentary.
February 2, 1998
Dear S-E-X,
I am scared to say your name. Teacher says it’s a bad word so I don’t want to get in trouble. I just figured out what you are today. You’re gross.
Mommy took me to see Titanic and I think Jack and pretty girl had S-E-X. They weren’t wearing clothes in that car. Mommy said that’s what you are. I think they looked cold. It was like a bazillion degrees cold in that car. There was an iceberg.
Mommy also said that people shouldn’t have S-E-X until they’re married. It’s bad when people like Jack and pretty girl have S-E-X before they’re married because that’s what Mommy says. And I think that’s where babies come from. Mommy said that babies come when a boy and a girl sleep together. Jack and pretty girl slept together. I bet they’re gonna have a baby.
At recess a boy asked me if I was a virgin. I said I didn’t know because I don’t know what a virgin is. I think a virgin is someone who doesn’t have S-E-X until they are married. I think I am a virgin. The boy at recess said that this brown haired girl isn’t one. I laughed because that’s funny. How can she be a virgin if she isn’t even married?
With love,
A virgin
(I think.)
June 12, 1999
Dear S-E-X,
My sister got pregnant and she isn’t even married. My stepdad got really mad at her and she has to move out and get married. There was a lot of crying at our house today. I cried too because everyone else cried. But I’m kind of excited. I really want a baby niece or nephew.
I figured out what a virgin is, and I am one. It means I haven’t had S-E-X. I haven’t. I’ve had a boyfriend though. We talked on the phone once. He sent me a watermelon eraser in the mail too. I haven’t talked to him since I started third grade though. I’m kind of shy.
My mommy asked me if I knew what gay meant. I think she said that it’s when a boy has S-E-X with another boy. I thought it meant that a boy acted really girly. Sissy said that there’s this boy on the bus that’s gay, but I don’t think he’s had S-E-X. He is only in the third grade! People don’t do it until they are like 19 or something. That’s how old my sister is. The one that’s pregnant, I mean. She’s 19.
With love,
A virgin
March 13, 2001
Dear Sex,
I can get pregnant now—I started my period.
In school we learned all about you. We even had to look at a diagram of a boy’s thingy. (You know what it’s called.) It was really gross. I wanted to close my eyes the whole time but I actually thought it was interesting.
We learned that we have these things called hormones that make us want to have you really bad. I don’t know if my hormones are working yet because I don’t really want to have you. If I did though, I’d tell you.
With love,
A virgin
November 19, 2002
Dear Sex,
You’re very romantic. My sister and I watch the show Friends all the time and Chandler and Monica make love a lot. But it’s okay because they get married I think.
I bet it would be really romantic to make love on my engagement night. I mean, I’d be getting married so it’d be okay if I did. My boyfriend would sprinkle rose petals from the doorway of my house all the way upstairs to my bedroom. Then he’d be there with a ring and I’d say, “Yes!”
I really hope the guy I marry is romantic like that. I’d probably have to drop him a few hints about the rose thing, but he’d catch on pretty fast.
With love,
A virgin
June 20, 2004
Dear Sex,
This boy I like asked me if I masturbate. I didn’t know what the word meant so I looked it up in the dictionary. No, I do not masturbate. I think he might though because he said it all dark and mysterious.
That same boy told me about this dream he had that he had sex with his girlfriend. He probably shouldn’t have told me that. I know his girlfriend and she’s really sweet and wouldn’t have sex when she’s still in junior high. But that boy told me he and his girlfriend had this thing called cybersex where they actually do it on the Internet. I don’t really know how that works, but I think *NSYNC sang a song about it once. Sounds kind of weird to me.
With love,
A virgin
July 31, 2004
Dear Sex,
I kissed a boy for the first time! Well, he kissed me. We were leaving a party and he kissed me on the cheek. It was really sweet.
We kissed mouth-to-mouth like three days later. We were riding home from a youth group trip and he decided that it was a good time to make a move. I kind of didn’t want to kiss him in the back of a van, but I couldn’t really stop him.
Don’t make fun of me, but I really didn’t enjoy kissing all that much. It’s kind of gross if you think about it—germs and all that. I won’t tell him that though. Well, I couldn’t tell him if I wanted to because we broke up.
Yeah, a week after we started kissing he broke up with me for my best friend. I was kind of mad, but not really too mad because I liked having the freedom to crush on other boys. Besides, as I said before, kissing was not that big of a deal.
With love,
A virgin
April 11, 2005
Dear Sex,
Today I decided to remain abstinent until I get married. I bought a purity ring to prove my commitment.
I think that sex needs to be special and between a husband and wife. That’s what my youth pastor says anyway, and all those books I’ve read. There’s this one author I read that said that you shouldn’t even kiss before you’re married! That’s a little crazy.
I started liking this guy who is three years older than me, but don’t tell anyone. I think that I’m going to marry him; he’s basically the hottest guy ever. He’s dated a lot of girls that are S-L-U-T-S. (Well, my sister calls them that. I don’t like to cuss.) I wonder if he likes me.
Anyway, it’s a lot of fun daydreaming about him. Don’t worry, I only think about clean things like holding hands and hugging. I would like to kiss him though, but not yet. I would want to wait like a month or two after we started dating. I think that’s a good amount of time.
With love,
A virgin
October 30, 2006
Dear Sex,
My boyfriend of three months broke up with me. I feel really dirty.
We didn’t even kiss and I feel dirty! I think that he liked to touch me too much. He didn’t like touch me in the wrong parts, but it still didn’t feel right.
With love,
A virgin
September 13, 2007
Dear Sex,
Two girls from one of my classes last year are pregnant. They’re juniors in high school! It’s hard to believe that someone younger than me is having sex before I am. Crazy.
I guess a lot of people have sex in high school, I just haven’t realized it until now. People are just lonely; they want some sort of fulfillment so they go to their boyfriends. Guys must love it. I mean, teenage girls are so naïve and desperate. Not me, though, or my friends.
I think Christianity’s the difference. I forgot to tell you that, Sex, I am a Christian. That’s why I want to wait to have you. I’ve still been told a dozen times that even Christians have sex outside of marriage, but I don’t believe them. If I were truly committed to Christ I would not have sex. Period. That just seems so obvious.
So like I said, those girls in high school who are having sex (and getting pregnant) are just lonely and void of something—Jesus. Someone should evangelize to them.
With love,
A virgin
December 2, 2007
Dear Sex,
I found out that one of my first boyfriends was caught having sex with his girlfriend—in their house! How sick is that? I am kind of not surprised, though, because he’s not really a Christian anymore. His sister (my friend) is mad at him and I doubt she’s going to talk to him any time soon.
I have friends at school who talk about having sex … or about doing it in the near future. It still seems so foreign to me. I guess I never believed that high school students did anything bad at all. Man, I remember when I first realized that my school has a drug problem. It was only a few months ago.
I think I’m ignorant to a lot of things, but I am okay with that. I’d rather stay the sweet pure Christian I’ve always been.
With love,
A virgin
June 8, 2008
Dear Sex,
My closest guy friend is a sex-addict. I wrote a whole essay about it once—about how I thought he was one even though he’s a virgin. But he really is a sex-addict. And he’s not a virgin.
He’s a Christian too, which is why he repented of it. He sat me down at a coffee house tonight and told me how he regretted it so much. He felt so empty inside and he wanted to get his life right again. I really admired him. Yeah, he messed up, but he’s ready to own up. I’m so proud of him. Even though he is a sex-addict.
With love,
A virgin
December 11, 2008
Dear Sex,
My closest guy friend never stopped having sex. I guess it’s one of those things that you start and never find the will to stop. He is an addict, I suppose.
I have decided to remain indifferent to it all because that will keep me from yelling at him. He no longer calls himself a Christian, so I guess it’s okay if he still has sex. It’s still a sin, but at least he’s not defaming the name of Christ. Does that sound cold-hearted? It seems that way to me. I should try to be nicer.
I found out that a lot of people I love and respect have been sleeping around, but I’m trying not to let it work me up. My sister tells me that my moral standards are different than a lot of people’s and I shouldn’t impose them. I am forced to agree.
With love,
A virgin
January 17, 2009
Dear Sex,
I guess Christians have pre-marital sex after all. Today I learned that two of my Christian friends slept together. They love Jesus but still have sex.
Sin is sin, no matter what. I tend to forget that. I find myself damning those who have sex outside of marriage or drink underage or do drugs more so than I damn myself for being proud or selfish or judgmental. There’s a plank in my eye that I have continuously ignored.
But I cannot help but view you, Sex, from my perspective. I cannot help but see you as something peculiar, something designed for a certain time and place. And when I see people from my school and my friends who have engaged in you, I don’t see what the media makes you out to be—I don’t see romance or fun or commitment or beauty. I see a lot of sad people searching for something. And instead of finding happiness, they’ve found the day-after blues: when he leaves to go to work or she grabs her clothes and drives away.
Sex, I don’t want to get to know you yet! I want you to remain a mystery until my wedding night. Then I will appreciate you, then I’ll get to experience that romance and fun and commitment and beauty. But not until then.
A lot of people throw you away. They waste you on people they will never truly love. They waste you on a night of passion or a night of loneliness. But that’s not fair. That’s not fair to you.
But don’t worry, Sex, I still think you’re special.
With love,
A virgin.
Don’t get worked up on the dates or people in this story. Bits and pieces I had to change for the fluency and understanding of the commentary. Just take it for what it is. Am I trying to be edgy? Not really. I’m just still learning about love and sex and pain and God and everything in between–and this is the result. In love, Lauren.
January 19, 2009 3 Comments
The Word
At my resident hall’s Christmas banquet, I received a “paper plate award” from my RA–something everyone in our dorm was granted as something both goofy and sentimental. The title and picture of the award, scrawled with crayons on a paper plate, reminded us that we are unique women with different gifts and talents. (Or that someone has a very obvious obsession worth taunting.)
But my award summed up my entire three-and-a-half month college experience; I received the “I’m in Love with the Old Testament” award.
Now, I didn’t know I was in love with the Old Testament until I took the history course as a gen. ed. It turns out I am pretty intrigued by this whole “first covenant” business. I even love it enough to have written songs about the kings of Israel and Judah … to the tune of Disney favorites.
I have a pretty good memory too. So if someone mentions King Jehoram in casual conversation, I can rattle off a few facts about him, like that he died from a fatal bowel disease and that no one mourned his death. You know, stuff like that.
But since the class ended, I knew that I had to move on. I can’t live in BC times forever. So instead of delightfully reading the minor prophets before bed, I have made myself move on to the New Testament. (Granted, the first book back-to-the-NT was the book of Hebrews, but it was a step in the right direction, no?)
But then, alas, I finished that book as well. And though I was tempted to read Romans, which is also filled with a lot of Jewish history, I chose the book of John. Yip-ee.
The book starts so familiar, bringing me back to the Hebrew Scriptures: In the beginning …
But it’s a little different: In the beginning was the Word.
The Word.
I’ve heard so many sermons on this chapter that I was tempted to move on to the good stuff–when John starts quoting Isaiah and the prophets. But I kept reading.
The Word became flesh and made its dwelling among us.
A few Sundays ago my pastor Steve talked about this passage. He said that the Word was so powerful that it brought things to life. With one breath the LORD spoke the earth into existence. Without the Word, there’s death because all life comes from the Word. He went on to say that God does not talk, he speaks. Every word has purpose; every word holds meaning.
But that was nothing.
Wait until the Word put on flesh.
Words aren’t enough. Pastor Steve compared it with email: it’s easy to sound eloquent and sophisticated in email–or blogs–by using labyrinthine rhetoric. (ha.) But it’s hard to show emotion. It’s difficult to be yourself when you can sound like anyone you want in text.
But in person … that’s a whole other story. By showing up, people can sense emotions and can feel love not restricted to just verbal communication. A hug, a kiss, an eye roll, a wink, a smirk, a hair-toss: they cannot be expressed through words on a computer screen. A loved one’s smile is much more meaningful than this :-).
When the Word becomes flesh, it’s powerful.
Things start to make sense.
If God only spoke on the mountain like he had to Moses or in a bedroom to Samuel, man’s concept of the divine would remain restricted. God had to send someone–flesh and blood–to give it meaning.
To take the Word and turn it into a picture. Into a lifestyle.
For some reason, the Law wasn’t cutting it. “God needs a body.”
He needed someone to show what God’s looking for, someone to exemplify his command to act JUSTLY, to love MERCY and to walk HUMBLY with him (Micah 6:8).
And God knew that the Word wouldn’t be enough soon after he made creation. For two chapters of Genesis the Word brings life, and by chapter three he promises Flesh: “And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her Seed; He shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise His heel” (Genesis 3:15).
That Seed being God-in-flesh.
And what intrigues me even more is that the promise holds more weight than some later prophecy. The Hebrew word for seed is zera’, a masculine noun translated as “offspring,” “children” or even as “sperm.” God will put an enmity between you [man] and the woman, and between your seed and her Seed [sperm].”
Funny, I didn’t know women had that stuff.
We jump to the book of Isaiah with his prediction of the virgin (alma) birth. And then to Luke chapter one with Mary and her husband-to-be, a son of David.
The Word became flesh and made its dwelling among us. Not as the prophets had, not as the priests had, not as kings had or the Levites or Nazirites. But in his own unique way: from a virgin’s seed.
In the “hustle and bustle” of the holiday season, it’s so easy to view Christmas as just Jesus’ birthday, like yours or mine. But this is something much bigger. This is “Let There Be Light” healing the sick and walking on water; this is “I Am” overcoming death.
This is the Word that spoke the earth and sun into existence wrapped in rags and placed in a feeding trough.
And this is what Christmas is about:
the Word putting on skin, coming down to earth to “pitch tent” in order to visibly show God’s love.
December 21, 2008 Leave a comment
I love/hate Christmas
“I hate Christmas.”
After my mom confessed that truth, I marveled–slack-jawed–at the bitterness of her comment. How can anyone hate Christmas? Who hates candy canes, egg nog, corporate Christmas parties, jingle bells, stocking stuffers, Hallmark original movies, wearing red all the time, tinsel, 24/7 holiday music on the radio, shopping and snow storms? I mean, those are pretty much the ingredients to happiness or something.
But then I started thinking … maybe I hate Christmas too.
Trying to find people the right gift is harder than you would think. Especially with the standards of previous Christmases and birthdays. My best friend Ashley gave me an hour phone call with my favorite author for my seventeenth birthday, how am I supposed to match that? Give her an hour with the pope?
And the Christmas specials on TV? Please. All of them have the same theme: some old scrooge learns the true meaning of Christmas or some self-pitying 30-something finds true love. They’re all the same.
And those family Christmas parties? Thanksgiving was a month ago. Really, how much has happened in that short period of time? I suppose any family gathering is fine if no one brings up politics. Again. (Knock on wood.)
See. I really hate Christmas. It’s awful. It’s so fake. And consumer-based. And dumb. And. And.
So I lied. I love Christmas. I mean, we have our problems, but I really love her deep down inside. I just don’t think I love Christmas the way I loved her when I was a kid. I couldn’t sleep a week before Christmas because I kept thinking about the my-size-barbie or giga pet I asked for.
And I just don’t think I love Christmas the way I know I’m supposed to love her, for the ultimate gift: the Messiah. I’m trying to revel in the miracles, in the prophecy and everything else surrounding the birth in Bethlehem. But I can’t. I just don’t seem to get it yet.
The Israelites were doing okay without a Messiah. I mean, sure they turned from God every other king or so, but they got right back to it. They just needed a good leader. A David or a Josiah or a Nehemiah or something. God still took them back. He forgave them.
Fine.
Last Christmas I decided to not be so materialistic. I had just finished reading Blue Like Jazz by the one-and-only Don Miller, and I was convicted. I tried not to want so much, but at the same time I wanted to be grateful for what I received. Even that was hard. It was hard to believe I had enough. No more, no less.
Maybe you can label my relationship with Christmas as love-hate. I want to love her for the right reasons, but I love her for the wrong. I want to hate her for the right reasons, but I hate her for the wrong.
New plan: I am going to make the most out of this Christmas. I am going to learn how to love her for the Messiah and I am going to learn to hate her for her materialism. I am. Or at least, I’ll start to.
My mom just apologized to me for her holiday blues. She said she had a little breakdown. She doesn’t hate Christmas, just all the pressure of social gatherings and pleasing others. I understand. I feel the same way.
With love,
Ezekiel
December 16, 2008 1 Comment
disillusioned
A few months ago I thought it’d be really cool to be disillusioned with the world. I wanted to be like a post-WWI expatriate or like Franny Glass from Salinger’s novel. I pictured myself in a bar drinking a Shirley Temple slurring my life story to the bartender, telling him over and over again how much I liked eating the cherries at the bottom. (I’d be faking the banter, of course, because I’m drinking a non-alcoholic beverage. The bartender is too distracted to notice.)
I decided a few months ago that I no longer cared about being prude or blameless, I wanted to dress like a whore and cuss the crudest words. I typed out a few cuss words that night. I felt a little better, but not a lot.
Then I decided I was going to marry someone at least ten years older than me … someone who was just as disillusioned as me so we could complain together about this godforsaken world we live in! and about how no one understands us! Or something like that. I don’t really know what disillusioned people complain about, to be honest.
And then I realized that I am not disillusioned. I am actually quite optimistic and forward-looking and hopeful. I just wasn’t happy with where I was and who I was among at the time.
A few months ago I was just starting college. I chose an extremely conservative Christian university to attend, not thinking much about all the rules that entailed. But I have always been a rule follower. I have always been the “good girl,” the teacher’s pet, the leader at youth group, the favorite daughter. (Don’t tell my sister.) I figured I could handle whatever this university threw at me.
Except … I couldn’t. That’s where all this disillusion came from. I thought this school would be my “comfort zone”: Christians around other Christians talking about Christian-y things. But I really don’t like that. I especially don’t like the pressure.
It turns out there’s no such thing as a cookie-cutter Christian. One week of college told me that. There are cliques here at Christian schools, you know, but all of them have the word “Christian” before them. The “Christian” preps, the Christian jocks, the Christian hipsters, the Christian nerds, etc.
I found it much like high school, except there’s that pressure of being “on fire for God.” Not only do you need that place to fit in … you need to prove your worth as a Christian: “Hi, my name is Lauren and I read my Bible every night.”
So into the first month of school I had pressure from all sides: to find friend and to be “on fire for God.” Neither were really working. I had friends, sure, but none like the ones at home. I loved God, sure, but I wasn’t healing people in Jaheezus name!
I began to realize that I did not like this. I did not like feeling of being judged by these Christians, whether they really were judging me or not, and I hated that it was hard to find friends at a Christian school. So I decided to become a Christian expatriate. I wrote down those cusswords. I started writing a novel about that bartender.
I figured that the reason I felt so disconnected with those people was because I just didn’t fit into their club. There are Christians and then there are Christians. I must have been part of the latter, those who look, smell and act Christian but aren’t really. I don’t follow their code of ethics or something.
I really wanted to break my school’s rules because I thought that would prove that I was not like the other Christians in my school, not just “kinda not” like them. Once I decided that, I found myself really bitter toward my roommates’ opinions. I made sure that I found a flaw in whatever the speaker said at chapel. I really had become disillusioned with the world.
And it was ugly.
I know the first few months of college are supposed to be hard. I know there’s a lot of homesickness and stress and fear … but I didn’t have any of that. The only thing I was really afraid of was myself. (As cliche as that sounds.) I didn’t like how I “measured up” against the Christians around me.
I would have killed to be the Christian hipster or the Christian prep. But I knew I wasn’t. I was the “Christian outcast.” I cared too much about where I didn’t fit in instead of seeing where I did. I got too caught up in, what the apostle Paul calls, “civilian affairs.” I was losing sight of my true identity and instead looked for it in others.
And so here I am. The semester just ended, and I can only hope that I am closer to the person I am supposed to be. A friend told me once that we can never really know our true identity, but I don’t know if I believe him. I mean, maybe not to the extent God views us, but I know that I can be closer than I am.
I know most people don’t follow their New Years Resolutions but I am going to make one anyway. This year I want to see myself the way God sees me: as a woman of God, passionate in what she does, a creator, thinker.
“This is my voice, all shadows stayed. This is my heart upon the altar laid. Please take all else away. Hear my cry, I beg I plead, I pray. I’ll walk into the flames, a calculated risk to further bless your name. So strike me deep and true, and in your strength I will live and die both unto you.” (“Identity Crisis,” Thrice)
with love,
ezekiel.
December 14, 2008 Leave a comment
… but look on the bright side.
a poem. by Lauren.
I had to give my speech this morning instead of Thursday … but some kid is buying me coffee to make up for it!
The sound clips in my Thrice speech didn’t work … but some guy played Image of the Invisible on his laptop after my speech!
I forgot to make a cover page for my COM outline … but I ran to the Mac lab and printed off a copy in time for class!
The speeches in COM were deathly boring … but I got a candy cane!
I waited in line for an hour to register for classes … but all of the classes I wanted to take were still open!
I had to get signatures for two of my classes … but I got new ear buds in the mail!
I got my new ear buds stuck inside my printer (ugh, long story) … but Haley and I got to go to all the boys’ dorms to find a gentleman with a screw driver!
I went to the front desk five times trying to find the right screw driver … but there was a guy down there that liked my Thrice t-shirt!
I spent two hours before dinner attempting to retrieve my ear buds … but I learned that I still have over 30 meals and 100 points on my card!
They ran out of ranch dressing in the salad bar line … but they had stuffed ice cream in the demo line! (like Coldstone!)
I have a lot of homework still to do … but the adrenaline of the day has helped me chug through it!
The top half of my SD card went missing (um, don’t ask) … but I found it!
The Lord takes away … but the Lord also gives and gives and gives!
the end.
November 18, 2008 Leave a comment
the antiblog.
I used to be honest-gut honest-without fearing what people said or thought about me. When I was an underclassman in high school, I posted blogs about how much I loved God and how Satan sucked. (And I said it quite eloquently, I might add. Just kidding.)
And then I began writing makeshift poetry. As a sophomore I would collaborate songs and poems with my own words to form what I called a blog, but it was really just a collage. And as a junior and senior I began to write editorials, examining my faith versus the religion I’m taught at church and the life I tried to hide behind. I asked questions.
But now, I can’t bring myself to do any of that. I am embittered, but I just argue; I am dry, but I don’t cry to God. I am stale. I have forgotten how to blog.
I don’t know what I spend so much time thinking about. I’m not pondering some deep philosophical question or imploring God on the great mysteries of life. I think about what people are doing. Their hairstyles. The shoes they wear.
Dear Lord, what’s wrong with me? I have fallen into a routine of study, eat, sleep, watch movies (or Colbert) and sleep some more. Is this the life you have called me to?
What about teaching me to love? What about speaking your Word like Ezekiel? What happened? Who am I?
I wish I knew.
I wish I was who I thought I was a few months ago.
I wish I would die to self-will already.
I wish I could realize stuff with Amanda again.
I wish I knew what I was doing.
I’m going to keep trudging through. The beauty of a trough is that it’s the lowest point–it can’t dip down any farther. It’s only up from here.
On to victory or underground.,
Ezek.
November 11, 2008 Leave a comment