so when i married jason, i decided to not be whole. let me make myself perfectly clear. jason wants me to be whole. he is constantly encouraging me to be myself and do the things that i love and try new things.
but jason and i are very different in a lot of ways. and usually, this means perfect compatibility. we fill in and challenge each other's weak spots. we need each other's strengths to be complete people. so usually, it's a perfect fit. and we are in deep bliss. :o)
but sometimes, i fear that feeding the parts of me that are most unlike jason will cause a rift between us. which is definitely not what i want. so i feed the parts that most tidily compliment him. and this is the decision that i made when i decided to "get serious" about married life. i would be jason's other half. i would be his support
and that's the life that i found here. i have this job that provides everything that we need: good pay, great health insurance, enough money to save and pay down some debt. we're serving together in multiple capacities at a wonderful church. we do everything together from grocery shopping to driving to and from work to watching sports. pretty much every moment that we're not at work, we're doing something together. and i love that. jason could probably use a little more time to himself, which i occassionally notice and try to give him. but for the most part, he's really happy to spend the majority of his moments with me. i guess he likes me or something.
so i have this perfect little life with an amazing husband and a great church with lots of opportunities for service and involvement and this really solid job. and i am unsatisfied. in fact, i'm pretty miserable. i blame my job, the boredom, the monotony. i say that i need to find a job that allows me to be robin. one that honors and encourages creativity. one that honors a good work ethic. one where i can be used to my greatest potential and challenged and stretched occasionally. one that's frantic enough to keep me busy. i'd even take one that's a little interesting.
but at some point, this conversaion needs to not be about my job. it needs to be about who i am no matter where i am. and in order for that conversation to be authentic and fruitful (as opposed to a lot of whining about a boring job), i need to invite God into the conversation. i need to let Him direct me.
all this time, i've been kind of bitter about this job. "it's not fair. i'm being wasted here. why did God put me here? waawaawaa." but i think this place may be more than just an open, empty forum that gives me the time and space to ask these deep questions of identity. this place, this job, this life puts into sharp and blinding focus that it isn't enough for me to just be "jason's wife" and nothing more. i have everything that i thought i wanted and needed. and i'm miserable. and as it turns out, that misery is God's mercy.
i've been struggling with understanding who God is when i'm unhappy. and i think here is the tip of the iceberg of an answer: God loves me too much to let me be happy when i am being less than who He created me to be. God loves me too much to allow me to be satisfied with being less than whole. God loves me too much to let me settle for being merely a support to jason's vision. i am jason's wife. and i love being jason's wife. but that is not all that i am. that's not all i was created to be. i was created to be robin merideth giberson lawrenz. and there will never be another.
seeing my dissatisfaction not as a character flaw, not as something to be overcome and stamped out, but rather as the mercy of a loving God who wants to open up worlds to me, who wants me to be everything He made me to be, who wants me to know Him as fully as i am capaible of knowing Him...that makes all the difference in the world. because if God is the source, the gift is good. the gift is hope that will not disappoint. the gift is longing with the promise of fulfillment. i don't have to choose to feed one part of me and to slowly (or abruptly) kill another. i can be whole! and that is very good news.
5.30.2008
5.21.2008
connect the dots (la la la la la)
i've been hiding from songwriting. i've been thinking that being a singer/songwriter is incompatible with my lifestyle as a wife. i've been satisfied with my decision to get married sooner instead of taking what little show i had on the road. i had said that this was better for me, that i had to choose, that some part of me would have to inevitably win out over another, that i couldn't be whole.
but the dots i avoided and refused to connect were a) "rejection from cmc" leads to c) "not finding inspiration for songwriting." i very conveniently made b) "decided to take marriage seriously and be a grown up" when b) should have been "suffered from supposed failure and feelings of not good enough."
it's funny how i tidily name my scars instead of looking them in the face and doing the dirty work to find out what they call themselves. with my tidy little designation for b) i was in control. it was my decision. i was unscathed, unaffected. responsible.
but here is the truth: i'm hiding from songwriting thinking if i return to it, i will be a bad wife, when in reality, i'm hiding from songwriting thinking that if i return to it, i will be a bad songwriter. and there you have it.
not that that makes it easier. calling the scar by its proper name doesn't make it hurt any less. it just places the displaced hurt back where it belongs. but now that i know the truth, there is hope for healing. it'll take some courage. it'll take a lot of grace. but there is hope. time to be brave and rip off the band-aid. readygo.
but the dots i avoided and refused to connect were a) "rejection from cmc" leads to c) "not finding inspiration for songwriting." i very conveniently made b) "decided to take marriage seriously and be a grown up" when b) should have been "suffered from supposed failure and feelings of not good enough."
it's funny how i tidily name my scars instead of looking them in the face and doing the dirty work to find out what they call themselves. with my tidy little designation for b) i was in control. it was my decision. i was unscathed, unaffected. responsible.
but here is the truth: i'm hiding from songwriting thinking if i return to it, i will be a bad wife, when in reality, i'm hiding from songwriting thinking that if i return to it, i will be a bad songwriter. and there you have it.
not that that makes it easier. calling the scar by its proper name doesn't make it hurt any less. it just places the displaced hurt back where it belongs. but now that i know the truth, there is hope for healing. it'll take some courage. it'll take a lot of grace. but there is hope. time to be brave and rip off the band-aid. readygo.
5.13.2008
someone else's thing
in this search for a medium, i decided to take up embroidery because nobody else does it. my mom makes baskets and quilts. amy knits and felts. megan draws and paints. i figured embroidery was safe. but amy does that, too.
i was talking to her the other night about how frustrated i am to be without a medium. i feel as though i have something beautiful to say to the world and no voice to say it with. it's a sad and isolated place. she asked, "why do you have to do something that nobody else does?"
a very interesting question. something i've always known the answer to, but i'd never been asked before. and the answer is this: if i do something that only i do, there is no comparison. i can be different and special and unique and secure in my identity and my abilities. but if i try to own a new "thing" that's already someone else's "thing," chances are that i will not measure up creatively. i won't be as good.
now this may seem like it's rehashing some of my other posts, but it feels like new water. i had no idea my ego was that fragile. i've never been confronted with it. but all of a sudden, i'm not the self-confident little girl i thought i was. i'm wounded. i'm insecure. i'm broken.
but amy gave me some very wise words (just a bit paraphrased): "when did we lose the inner creator? when did we learn that how we drew wasn't okay? when did we lose our inner voice? it was when i learned that ryan evans was the best artist in the class, so i couldn't draw anymore. but if there's something in us waiting to be created, no one else will make it for us. it's ours to create. and the world (and we) will completely miss out if we don't take a risk and try."
so i'm going to take a risk and try. that's my new goal: just to try. to tell that little voice inside that doubts my abilities to shut up and go away. to stop cowering in the corner believing that i am lost and useless. to look the possibility of failure in the face and befriend it. because if i want adventure, if i want art and life, there will always be a risk. and sure, failure feels crappy, but more often than not, failure is a beginning, not an end, not a judgment. it's a lesson. it's a direction. and that's not so scary.
i was talking to her the other night about how frustrated i am to be without a medium. i feel as though i have something beautiful to say to the world and no voice to say it with. it's a sad and isolated place. she asked, "why do you have to do something that nobody else does?"
a very interesting question. something i've always known the answer to, but i'd never been asked before. and the answer is this: if i do something that only i do, there is no comparison. i can be different and special and unique and secure in my identity and my abilities. but if i try to own a new "thing" that's already someone else's "thing," chances are that i will not measure up creatively. i won't be as good.
now this may seem like it's rehashing some of my other posts, but it feels like new water. i had no idea my ego was that fragile. i've never been confronted with it. but all of a sudden, i'm not the self-confident little girl i thought i was. i'm wounded. i'm insecure. i'm broken.
but amy gave me some very wise words (just a bit paraphrased): "when did we lose the inner creator? when did we learn that how we drew wasn't okay? when did we lose our inner voice? it was when i learned that ryan evans was the best artist in the class, so i couldn't draw anymore. but if there's something in us waiting to be created, no one else will make it for us. it's ours to create. and the world (and we) will completely miss out if we don't take a risk and try."
so i'm going to take a risk and try. that's my new goal: just to try. to tell that little voice inside that doubts my abilities to shut up and go away. to stop cowering in the corner believing that i am lost and useless. to look the possibility of failure in the face and befriend it. because if i want adventure, if i want art and life, there will always be a risk. and sure, failure feels crappy, but more often than not, failure is a beginning, not an end, not a judgment. it's a lesson. it's a direction. and that's not so scary.
5.07.2008
with no medium
in this quest for identity and purpose, i'm rereading parker j. palmer's let your life speak. it's been one of the most influential books in my life, and i recommend it to anyone sharing in the pilgrimage of vocation and identity.
in chapter 2, palmer is sharing some autobiographics of his journey of discovering vocation. he was working as a community organizer in washington dc when he was offered a faculty position at georgetown university. palmer writes:
"by looking anew at my community work through the lens of education, i saw that as an organizer i had never stopped being a teacher--i was simply teaching in a classroom without walls. in fact, i could have done no other: teaching, i was coming to understand, is my native way of being in the world. make me a cleric or a ceo, a poet or a politico, and teaching is what i will do. teaching is at the heart of my vocation and will manifest itself in any role i play."
this got me pondering: what is my natural way of being in the world? what is it that i will do no matter what else i'm doing?
in my first read of this book, i thought it was teaching for me also. which may be partially true, but only partially. i think teaching is an interest that i've intentionally developed. i'm passionate about education, about the teaching/learning interchange, about the dynamic relationships among teacher, student, and subject matter, about different teaching methods and learning styles, about explicit, implicit, and null curricula. and i enjoy teaching and preparing lessons. but i don't think teaching runs so deeply in me that i could say it's my "native way of being in the world."
in reflecting further on the questions of who i am no matter what else i'm doing, i came to this exciting and terrifying conclusion: i am an artist.
immediately, disclaimers rise to object. i'm not a good or talented artist. i'm not a carver or a basket weaver. i'm not a fiber artist or a potter. i'm not a composer or a dancer. i'm not a poet or novelist. i'm not a painter or a sculptor. i can't even doodle really.
but nevertheless, i am an artist. that is my way of being in the world. my deepest desire is to create, to make things new. i long to put form and shape to raw materials. i see the world with infinite potential for beauty. i treasure symbolism and metaphor and find it more deeply meaningful and real and true than actual "reality." i imagine wonderful things and long for them to be. imagination. creativity. art. now that i've put words to it, it seems so obvious to me. it makes so much sense.
palmer explains that if you are having trouble figuring out who you are, you should "remember who you were when you first arrived and reclaim the gift of true self...when we lose track of true self, how can we pick up the trail? one way is to seek clues in stories from our younger years, years when we lived closer to our birthright gifts."
in just about every memory of my childhood, there is some element of make believe. the walkway leading to my front door was a river of lava that i could use to carry messages written with pokeberry juice on dogwood leaves. broccoli was a tiny tree, and i was a huge, devouring dinosaur. i was a designer of beautiful gowns for teddy bears, and my mom was the seamstress charged with making my dreams reality. i was a mermaid princess living in a lake with mystical clay on the bottom which carried magical powers. i was always making up songs about nature and God and life and love and envisioning myself as a great performer.
you might say that these are the dreams of every little girl, and you're probably right. but i hold that the eye and the will to see things as they could be and ought to be and not only how they are, the mind and heart shaping things according to all their potential beauty, the hands longing to bring form and magnificence to something dull and shapeless but perhaps falling short of their vision due to a lack of dexterity and skill...these are the joys and challenges, the bumps and bruises, the curses and privileges of some sort of artist, the heartbeat of a creator.
as exciting a discovery as this is, i'm overwhelmed. i'm saddened. because i am an artist in search of a medium. i am unskilled, untrained, undeveloped. i have the blessing of beautiful ideas in my head and the millstone of very poor follow-through around my neck. the wounds of "less than" of "not measuring up creatively" run deep. and i don't know where to start.
as it turns out, this journey of self discovery isn't about interspection. these moments of revelation are not the destination. the goal and purpose behind these questions is not to just "figure it all out." if an artist is who i am, to become who i am will not be fulfilled simply because i've named the artist in me. to name myself is only giving direction to the journey. so what is the next step? if i desire to move forward, how can i proceed? how can i proactively become myself even in this place of waiting, waiting, waiting?
in chapter 2, palmer is sharing some autobiographics of his journey of discovering vocation. he was working as a community organizer in washington dc when he was offered a faculty position at georgetown university. palmer writes:
"by looking anew at my community work through the lens of education, i saw that as an organizer i had never stopped being a teacher--i was simply teaching in a classroom without walls. in fact, i could have done no other: teaching, i was coming to understand, is my native way of being in the world. make me a cleric or a ceo, a poet or a politico, and teaching is what i will do. teaching is at the heart of my vocation and will manifest itself in any role i play."
this got me pondering: what is my natural way of being in the world? what is it that i will do no matter what else i'm doing?
in my first read of this book, i thought it was teaching for me also. which may be partially true, but only partially. i think teaching is an interest that i've intentionally developed. i'm passionate about education, about the teaching/learning interchange, about the dynamic relationships among teacher, student, and subject matter, about different teaching methods and learning styles, about explicit, implicit, and null curricula. and i enjoy teaching and preparing lessons. but i don't think teaching runs so deeply in me that i could say it's my "native way of being in the world."
in reflecting further on the questions of who i am no matter what else i'm doing, i came to this exciting and terrifying conclusion: i am an artist.
immediately, disclaimers rise to object. i'm not a good or talented artist. i'm not a carver or a basket weaver. i'm not a fiber artist or a potter. i'm not a composer or a dancer. i'm not a poet or novelist. i'm not a painter or a sculptor. i can't even doodle really.
but nevertheless, i am an artist. that is my way of being in the world. my deepest desire is to create, to make things new. i long to put form and shape to raw materials. i see the world with infinite potential for beauty. i treasure symbolism and metaphor and find it more deeply meaningful and real and true than actual "reality." i imagine wonderful things and long for them to be. imagination. creativity. art. now that i've put words to it, it seems so obvious to me. it makes so much sense.
palmer explains that if you are having trouble figuring out who you are, you should "remember who you were when you first arrived and reclaim the gift of true self...when we lose track of true self, how can we pick up the trail? one way is to seek clues in stories from our younger years, years when we lived closer to our birthright gifts."
in just about every memory of my childhood, there is some element of make believe. the walkway leading to my front door was a river of lava that i could use to carry messages written with pokeberry juice on dogwood leaves. broccoli was a tiny tree, and i was a huge, devouring dinosaur. i was a designer of beautiful gowns for teddy bears, and my mom was the seamstress charged with making my dreams reality. i was a mermaid princess living in a lake with mystical clay on the bottom which carried magical powers. i was always making up songs about nature and God and life and love and envisioning myself as a great performer.
you might say that these are the dreams of every little girl, and you're probably right. but i hold that the eye and the will to see things as they could be and ought to be and not only how they are, the mind and heart shaping things according to all their potential beauty, the hands longing to bring form and magnificence to something dull and shapeless but perhaps falling short of their vision due to a lack of dexterity and skill...these are the joys and challenges, the bumps and bruises, the curses and privileges of some sort of artist, the heartbeat of a creator.
as exciting a discovery as this is, i'm overwhelmed. i'm saddened. because i am an artist in search of a medium. i am unskilled, untrained, undeveloped. i have the blessing of beautiful ideas in my head and the millstone of very poor follow-through around my neck. the wounds of "less than" of "not measuring up creatively" run deep. and i don't know where to start.
as it turns out, this journey of self discovery isn't about interspection. these moments of revelation are not the destination. the goal and purpose behind these questions is not to just "figure it all out." if an artist is who i am, to become who i am will not be fulfilled simply because i've named the artist in me. to name myself is only giving direction to the journey. so what is the next step? if i desire to move forward, how can i proceed? how can i proactively become myself even in this place of waiting, waiting, waiting?
purpose and identity
"and we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose." -romans 8:28
this is very easy for me to believe. i trust that God is good and that He maneuvers circumstances for good purposes. i have faith that He is in control and that the world is better off for it.
"for those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son." - romans 8:29
this is a little more difficult for me. i've discovered that--despite all my mantras of how much i long for transformation--i am terrified to hand my identity over to God so that He can work His will on it. i'm scared that if i let God change me here, in this place, He will turn me into a receptionist, make me satisfied to always assist and never orchestrate, fill me with a sense of duty and fulfillment in providing for my family practically, rob me of my dreams and all that i value within myself, strip me of an identity that glories in all things creative, send me up the corporate ladder in conjunction with my "smart one" self.
while i was growing up, my sisters and i created categories so as to avoid sibling rivalry. amy was the pretty one. megan was the talented one. and i was the smart one. i gained this reputation because school always came relatively easily to me. i was good at it.
when i went to wheaton, i couldn't be "the smart one" anymore because everyone was the smart one. i even felt a good deal "less than" because i was a christian education major, which had a reputation for being a joke due to its soul-intensive (as opposed to academics-intensive) nature. this was definitely a blow to my ego, but there were few cases when it actually hurt. after all, i had 15 years of academic evidence of my intelligence prior to going to wheaton. i knew i was smart regardless of (mostly unintentional) projections of intellectual inferiority.
enter contemporary music center (cmc) senior year of college. rock'n'roll camp. in this environment more so than anywhere else, i was empowered to express my creative self. it was a breath of fresh air. leaving academics-driven wheaton and entering into a creative community. to make a very long story short, after graduation, i reapplied to be an artist in residence (cmc's alumni program). and i was rejected. now this was a huge blow. i read the message as "you do not measure up creatively." and this is a hurt that runs very deep. a hurt that has barely been uncovered let alone healed.
i think the difference in the blows lies with this: "smartness" is what i'm good at. "creativity" is what i'm passionate about.
i've been envisioning my perfect little vocation as follows: teaching Christian formation at the college level. i'll go back to school and learn all sorts of things to feed to and grow in hungry minds. i'll do it creatively (passion), and i'll do it in an academic setting (success). this may or may not be the vocational goal and purpose that God has in mind for me. but until He informs (more so forms/transforms) me otherwise, that's what i will pursue as soon as circumstances allow.
but now i find myself in a place of waiting. and sometimes waiting is just waiting. but i think in this case, i am being asked by God to wait creatively. to wait with Emmanuel. to wait with healing in mind. to release the fear of how He will transform me and to whom He will transform me. to trust that not only in His direction of circumstances and purposes but also in matters of identity, He is good.
i've been afraid of God changing me into something i don't want to be, into someone who is the very antithesis of who i am. but if God knew me before the foundations of the world, if He placed me in my family and gave me the gifts and passions that He has, and if i believe He is a good God who does things on purpose, then He will protect whatever i am that needs protecting and reform whatever should be reformed. as long as i white-knuckle my identity, i will always and only be what i am now and increasingly less than. but God desires more for me. He desires transformation, rebirth, renewal, redemption. God desires and is working good things for me and (if i will allow Him) good things in me.
so i anticipate His appearing. i expect His transformation. i hope in His goodness in purpose and identity. in deep hurts and deep healing, come, Lord Jesus.
this is very easy for me to believe. i trust that God is good and that He maneuvers circumstances for good purposes. i have faith that He is in control and that the world is better off for it.
"for those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son." - romans 8:29
this is a little more difficult for me. i've discovered that--despite all my mantras of how much i long for transformation--i am terrified to hand my identity over to God so that He can work His will on it. i'm scared that if i let God change me here, in this place, He will turn me into a receptionist, make me satisfied to always assist and never orchestrate, fill me with a sense of duty and fulfillment in providing for my family practically, rob me of my dreams and all that i value within myself, strip me of an identity that glories in all things creative, send me up the corporate ladder in conjunction with my "smart one" self.
while i was growing up, my sisters and i created categories so as to avoid sibling rivalry. amy was the pretty one. megan was the talented one. and i was the smart one. i gained this reputation because school always came relatively easily to me. i was good at it.
when i went to wheaton, i couldn't be "the smart one" anymore because everyone was the smart one. i even felt a good deal "less than" because i was a christian education major, which had a reputation for being a joke due to its soul-intensive (as opposed to academics-intensive) nature. this was definitely a blow to my ego, but there were few cases when it actually hurt. after all, i had 15 years of academic evidence of my intelligence prior to going to wheaton. i knew i was smart regardless of (mostly unintentional) projections of intellectual inferiority.
enter contemporary music center (cmc) senior year of college. rock'n'roll camp. in this environment more so than anywhere else, i was empowered to express my creative self. it was a breath of fresh air. leaving academics-driven wheaton and entering into a creative community. to make a very long story short, after graduation, i reapplied to be an artist in residence (cmc's alumni program). and i was rejected. now this was a huge blow. i read the message as "you do not measure up creatively." and this is a hurt that runs very deep. a hurt that has barely been uncovered let alone healed.
i think the difference in the blows lies with this: "smartness" is what i'm good at. "creativity" is what i'm passionate about.
i've been envisioning my perfect little vocation as follows: teaching Christian formation at the college level. i'll go back to school and learn all sorts of things to feed to and grow in hungry minds. i'll do it creatively (passion), and i'll do it in an academic setting (success). this may or may not be the vocational goal and purpose that God has in mind for me. but until He informs (more so forms/transforms) me otherwise, that's what i will pursue as soon as circumstances allow.
but now i find myself in a place of waiting. and sometimes waiting is just waiting. but i think in this case, i am being asked by God to wait creatively. to wait with Emmanuel. to wait with healing in mind. to release the fear of how He will transform me and to whom He will transform me. to trust that not only in His direction of circumstances and purposes but also in matters of identity, He is good.
i've been afraid of God changing me into something i don't want to be, into someone who is the very antithesis of who i am. but if God knew me before the foundations of the world, if He placed me in my family and gave me the gifts and passions that He has, and if i believe He is a good God who does things on purpose, then He will protect whatever i am that needs protecting and reform whatever should be reformed. as long as i white-knuckle my identity, i will always and only be what i am now and increasingly less than. but God desires more for me. He desires transformation, rebirth, renewal, redemption. God desires and is working good things for me and (if i will allow Him) good things in me.
so i anticipate His appearing. i expect His transformation. i hope in His goodness in purpose and identity. in deep hurts and deep healing, come, Lord Jesus.
5.05.2008
preparation
i've been going to adult sunday school at church, led by parker (and rachel) page. it's always a rousing time of very...interesting questions raised by the peanut gallery. yesterday morning, we were talking about The Prophet prophesied by moses. as we were discussing characters throughout the bible who filled the roles of prophet, priest, and/or king, someone asked, "why didn't God just send Jesus right away? why make all of these other these other prophets come first?"
in my head, i put together the whole idea of how Jesus coming during the roman empire was ideal because never before and never again was so much of the world unified under one empire. so that historical era was set up perfectly for the spread of Christianity. i thought about the roman roads and all that jazz and was quite satisfied with my own brilliance.
but i think there's even more to it than that. our culture is so obsessed with instant gratification. we want things when we want them, want our needs met before we can feel them, want everything taken care of before it requires any thought or struggle. as much as we claim to value "journey over destination," the instantaneousness and easy accessibility of modern technology have coddled us into the luxury and expectation of instant gratification (and indignance if we are not instantly gratified).
so going back to The Prophet, the Messiah, the Promised One...i think [as much as i can determine the motives of an omniscient God] that the Almighty waited so many centuries and sent so many messengers before Jesus to prepare His people for the arriving of the Christ. as much or as little as He was recognized, Jesus was expected, anticipated, looked for, sought out. the people of israel felt their need for Him.
so often, i have everything i need for survival at my fingertips. i have the abilities and the resources to get (if not everything i want) everything i need. since getting pneumonia on my honeymoon and getting this job, i have felt the stings of unfavorable circumstances like never before. i have felt victimized and under-appreciated and wasted in boredom, monotony, and mediocrity. i have felt disconnected. i have felt the great, deep desire for the skies to open and a Voice from heaven to speak healing and purpose into my life. i have felt my need for God.
more often than not, i think this is how God works. He allows us to experience pain, loneliness, purposelessness, confusion, because these states of being are part of the preparation of our hearts to receive Him...
and the trick is not to wallow. the trick is to be expectant of His arrival, to be less caught up in how we think He should show up and more open to every way that He could show up...to be less concerned with our discomfort and more assured of His perfect timing.
in small groups in youth group, when questions come up that i don't know the answers to, my constant faith rests in the character of God. when there is some sort of gray area or ambiguity or mystery, i hold to the steady, unchanging character of God: always loving, always just, always gracious, always merciful, always always good. it's easy for me to rest in that for life's big, hypothetical questions. it's harder for me to rest in that for the questions that affect me day to day, moment to long moment. waiting. wishing. not quite strong enough to hope.
in my mystery of purpose, vocation, calling, life, i long for a good God. And if this God is truly good, He knows my propensity for oblivion (and consequential misplaced gratitude) too well to lay all things at my feet, to let life be all sunshine and daisies, to allow me to struggle only in the ways i find suitable for my growth. a God who is both loving and good knows that my heart needs preparation, seasoning, expectation, waiting...lest i miss the miracle when it comes.
that's so different from a "this too shall pass" mentality. it's a lifestyle that wakes up every morning thinking, "this could be the day of God's appearing! this could be the day of redemption! there are new mercies rising, and i'm going to find them today!" oh sweet God of mercy, God of goodness and love, let it be so...
in my head, i put together the whole idea of how Jesus coming during the roman empire was ideal because never before and never again was so much of the world unified under one empire. so that historical era was set up perfectly for the spread of Christianity. i thought about the roman roads and all that jazz and was quite satisfied with my own brilliance.
but i think there's even more to it than that. our culture is so obsessed with instant gratification. we want things when we want them, want our needs met before we can feel them, want everything taken care of before it requires any thought or struggle. as much as we claim to value "journey over destination," the instantaneousness and easy accessibility of modern technology have coddled us into the luxury and expectation of instant gratification (and indignance if we are not instantly gratified).
so going back to The Prophet, the Messiah, the Promised One...i think [as much as i can determine the motives of an omniscient God] that the Almighty waited so many centuries and sent so many messengers before Jesus to prepare His people for the arriving of the Christ. as much or as little as He was recognized, Jesus was expected, anticipated, looked for, sought out. the people of israel felt their need for Him.
so often, i have everything i need for survival at my fingertips. i have the abilities and the resources to get (if not everything i want) everything i need. since getting pneumonia on my honeymoon and getting this job, i have felt the stings of unfavorable circumstances like never before. i have felt victimized and under-appreciated and wasted in boredom, monotony, and mediocrity. i have felt disconnected. i have felt the great, deep desire for the skies to open and a Voice from heaven to speak healing and purpose into my life. i have felt my need for God.
more often than not, i think this is how God works. He allows us to experience pain, loneliness, purposelessness, confusion, because these states of being are part of the preparation of our hearts to receive Him...
and the trick is not to wallow. the trick is to be expectant of His arrival, to be less caught up in how we think He should show up and more open to every way that He could show up...to be less concerned with our discomfort and more assured of His perfect timing.
in small groups in youth group, when questions come up that i don't know the answers to, my constant faith rests in the character of God. when there is some sort of gray area or ambiguity or mystery, i hold to the steady, unchanging character of God: always loving, always just, always gracious, always merciful, always always good. it's easy for me to rest in that for life's big, hypothetical questions. it's harder for me to rest in that for the questions that affect me day to day, moment to long moment. waiting. wishing. not quite strong enough to hope.
in my mystery of purpose, vocation, calling, life, i long for a good God. And if this God is truly good, He knows my propensity for oblivion (and consequential misplaced gratitude) too well to lay all things at my feet, to let life be all sunshine and daisies, to allow me to struggle only in the ways i find suitable for my growth. a God who is both loving and good knows that my heart needs preparation, seasoning, expectation, waiting...lest i miss the miracle when it comes.
that's so different from a "this too shall pass" mentality. it's a lifestyle that wakes up every morning thinking, "this could be the day of God's appearing! this could be the day of redemption! there are new mercies rising, and i'm going to find them today!" oh sweet God of mercy, God of goodness and love, let it be so...
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