Do you ever feeling like writing at 3 in the morning, something that is visible to the public and not just for your own satisfaction? Yeah, me too. Maybe it's my way of making a statement in an era where our connectedness has obscured each individual voice, paradoxically by trying to change Facebook into a personal timeline that makes each person just a chain of events. I'm sorry, I don't happen to care what you were doing in 1996...
I do have a sentiment for the past and love to discover the past of those I care about but not in one sentence summing up location or "major events." Please. Let's have more dignity. But this post isn't about Facebook at all. In fact, it doesn't have a clear thesis although I do have some things on my mind...
I've been reminiscing lately about my childhood, how my parents raised me, my fondest memories, and the fact that few at Wheaton would even know what to do with it. I've been thinking about what it would be like to be a missionary kid, to not really have any sense of home, or to feel, like someone said once, "In a way, everywhere I go is my home because the people I love are with me." But I'm talking about the familiarity of knowing that this particular living room houses memories of your fourth grade year, sitting by the fire in an orange shirt, long hair in pigtails, your dad preparing the dining room table to make ginger bread houses with you, your dog rolling around on his back. I'm talking about knowing the exact location of your house's cracks, knowing where to walk so the carpet doesn't squeak, laughing every time you cross the spot where you accidentally bleached the carpet while trying to clean up dog throw-up. Or what about the yard where you learned to ride a bike in the spring, and in the winter where your brother dislocated his shoulder after building a ramp for his snowboard? This was home for me, and it was sacred.
Everyone has a concept of home, whether it be concrete or not. The disparity between some threatens to tear people apart, yet I'm not convinced it's the confusion about camaraderie of home that makes the split. Instead, it's someone deciding that you're too different, that your story isn't worth hearing, that you'll never understand them. People create the chasms and then wonder why they feel so distant.
You shouldn't settle for having friends or significant others in your life that don't respect where you've been, however humble, however outrageous. Your past is part of you as is the perspective you have about it, and its sacredness should be shared with care. I used to be of a different opinion but am now convinced that a sense of home will only be created between two people when both have submitted their fears of never finding it in each other.
And to those who think home doesn't matter, who go about wrecking it in their friends by ripping them apart with everything vulnerably shared, with accusatory guilt trips, save it. Yes, I'm dramatic, I'm the first one to admit it. It's in my blood--I'm half-Spanish...everything is extreme for me, I feel in extremes, but I also love in extremes. And if the only way you know how to live is to criticize people who think differently than you, then you have a lot of maturing to do. The strongest people are the ones who can admit that they're weak. Where there is loss of love or friendship, there is redemption. And we should be filled with nothing but gratitude.
Only in this posture can we examine ourselves rightly, and in turn, begin to cherish the longing for home housed in each of our hearts, placed there by the Living God, and forgive each other for the sin we perpetuate in getting there.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
The Expense of Knowledge
Lately I've been tripping over my words, unable to articulate exactly what I want to say. Because of this, I've felt extremely isolated from several people, like I've been dropped in the middle of the ocean only worse because I don't know what words to use to call out. This may seem like a dramatic description of loneliness, but it's not...it's more of a longing for something specific because of someone I used to know. And honestly, I think this feeling, or sense of reality, rises parallel to an increase of knowledge. The reason I say this is because my vocabulary has grown, and in turn, my knowledge of words that symbolically demonstrate exactly what I mean through language. Therefore, if I'm talking and cannot find a word that will connote my exact intention, I get frustrated because I know it exists. Not only does it exist, but it exists somewhere in my mind only I lack the ability to recall it.
Little more drives one to madness than knowing that which you desire exists yet is ungraspable. I actually think this is the downfall of humanity. However, God has brought the ungraspable to us through Christ, but somehow this seems like more of a metanarrative when compared to everyday life. I'm not saying God isn't sufficient by any means, but I am saying we as humans sometimes long for what we don't have not because we don't have it but because whatever "it" is directs us toward Christ. So when God withholds these things from us, He could be saying a multitude of things: 1) Recognize the inadequacy of that which is not Divine, like words for example. Have patience with those who don't understand the unarticulated parts of you, and rejoice for the time I give you with those who do. Let the latter not become idols, or they will eventually lead to your destruction. For only I can know the disgusting nature of a sinful heart and still love you. 2) Wait. Now is not the time to be given what you desire because you are not yet ready for it. Trust. Endure. 3) You have deceived yourself about what you want. Be rational. Remember. 4) I came so that you may have Life and have it to the full. I will not withhold Life from you, but I may withhold knowledge for Life's sake.
Knowledge comes at a great cost.
So we may not find the words to ever have perfect communication, but don't take for granted those who connect with you through the unspoken. They surely are few and far between. And this, God most avidly knows.
Little more drives one to madness than knowing that which you desire exists yet is ungraspable. I actually think this is the downfall of humanity. However, God has brought the ungraspable to us through Christ, but somehow this seems like more of a metanarrative when compared to everyday life. I'm not saying God isn't sufficient by any means, but I am saying we as humans sometimes long for what we don't have not because we don't have it but because whatever "it" is directs us toward Christ. So when God withholds these things from us, He could be saying a multitude of things: 1) Recognize the inadequacy of that which is not Divine, like words for example. Have patience with those who don't understand the unarticulated parts of you, and rejoice for the time I give you with those who do. Let the latter not become idols, or they will eventually lead to your destruction. For only I can know the disgusting nature of a sinful heart and still love you. 2) Wait. Now is not the time to be given what you desire because you are not yet ready for it. Trust. Endure. 3) You have deceived yourself about what you want. Be rational. Remember. 4) I came so that you may have Life and have it to the full. I will not withhold Life from you, but I may withhold knowledge for Life's sake.
Knowledge comes at a great cost.
So we may not find the words to ever have perfect communication, but don't take for granted those who connect with you through the unspoken. They surely are few and far between. And this, God most avidly knows.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
GRACE
I have so many thoughts in my head these days I don't know that I can coherently divulge them, but considering my audience to be much slimmer with my decision to remove Facebook from my life, I'm less worried about that and more worried about just getting them out. So here goes.
Lately I have been feeling slightly neurotic from "morbid introspection" as our chapel speaker conveyed it. I've been going over and over in my head about how my failed relationship from two semesters ago was supposed to be understood by now. It was supposed to have added significantly to my life and helped me live better, and in some ways it has. But in a lot more ways it has confused me more, made me less inclined to listen, given me less patience with extremely rational people. A lyric from The Civil Wars expresses my thoughts perfectly: "I don't love you anymore, but I always will." And the always will part is haunting me. Or at least I thought it was. I thought it was keeping me from understanding why God put me through this. I'm so utterly confused about my past & it's deeply affecting my present. But as I began to come to grips with my true feelings, God intervened with a chapel message that seeped deep into my very core.
GRACE.
We have been justified through nothing else.
And I started reading in 2 Timothy 3: "But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God--having a form of godliness but denying its power."
DENYING ITS POWER. Not being able to accept it. I mean think on this for a second. How do compliments make you feel sometimes? They make you feel good but sometimes awkward. Sometimes the source doesn't seem trustworthy, and sometimes we just flatly deny their claim. But what if the compliment is directed back at the compliment-giver? For example, your mom says, "I'm so proud to be called your mom." This is a step in the right direction in grasping grace. But even more than that. What if you fell in love and your lover's eyes said it all? Your lover is overflowing with abundant love for you, never tiring of your weakness or your insecurities, always giving, fierce in passion over you. Your lover looks at you and you want to cry for the intensity of their jealous love for you. There is no question--you are safe. You are theirs. Forever. But even MORE than that...your Lover is flawless. Omnipotent. The Beginning and the End. Has the last say. Has spoken for your heart. Intricately made you EXACTLY who you are. Made no mistake. This lover is Jesus Christ. Not only do we reject what He offers but we claim something better. We claim our control is more trustworthy--at least we understand it. We don't though, not really, not even our own control. Because we don't know the repercussions of our actions at times, and we don't know how they affect certain people. It's a facade of control, yet we settle for it. The thing is we don't do this because we don't think God's grace is good enough. We do it because we are TERRIFIED.
We run from that which threatens to change us. We are afraid of being daily brought to tears by something so unfathomable. So we say instead, "It can't be." God's grace can't exist, we justify, maybe not openly to anything other than our heart of hearts, because I don't know how to accept it.
HIS GRACE IS SUFFICIENT.
I have a form of godliness. But up to this point in my life I have denied its power. We keep working for our own salvation, trying to be better, trying to improve. And God scoffs. He thinks it's disgusting. Our attempts are like the dirt on the bottom of a shoe. What would it mean to live out of the grace of God?
IT MEANS YOU ARE ENOUGH. YOU'RE NOT TOO MUCH. YOU ARE A CHILD OF THE LIVING GOD.
He is fiercely devoted to seeing your sanctification complete. And as our chapel speaker said today, our sanctification is learning how to accept our justification.
And as mini wanna-be gods, this takes us a lifetime.
We can claim no security except in that which sustains us. He goes by many names, but He is one. We can know no certainty in this world, but He is not of the world.
GRACE. Believe it. Accept it. And go forth, my child.
Lately I have been feeling slightly neurotic from "morbid introspection" as our chapel speaker conveyed it. I've been going over and over in my head about how my failed relationship from two semesters ago was supposed to be understood by now. It was supposed to have added significantly to my life and helped me live better, and in some ways it has. But in a lot more ways it has confused me more, made me less inclined to listen, given me less patience with extremely rational people. A lyric from The Civil Wars expresses my thoughts perfectly: "I don't love you anymore, but I always will." And the always will part is haunting me. Or at least I thought it was. I thought it was keeping me from understanding why God put me through this. I'm so utterly confused about my past & it's deeply affecting my present. But as I began to come to grips with my true feelings, God intervened with a chapel message that seeped deep into my very core.
GRACE.
We have been justified through nothing else.
And I started reading in 2 Timothy 3: "But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God--having a form of godliness but denying its power."
DENYING ITS POWER. Not being able to accept it. I mean think on this for a second. How do compliments make you feel sometimes? They make you feel good but sometimes awkward. Sometimes the source doesn't seem trustworthy, and sometimes we just flatly deny their claim. But what if the compliment is directed back at the compliment-giver? For example, your mom says, "I'm so proud to be called your mom." This is a step in the right direction in grasping grace. But even more than that. What if you fell in love and your lover's eyes said it all? Your lover is overflowing with abundant love for you, never tiring of your weakness or your insecurities, always giving, fierce in passion over you. Your lover looks at you and you want to cry for the intensity of their jealous love for you. There is no question--you are safe. You are theirs. Forever. But even MORE than that...your Lover is flawless. Omnipotent. The Beginning and the End. Has the last say. Has spoken for your heart. Intricately made you EXACTLY who you are. Made no mistake. This lover is Jesus Christ. Not only do we reject what He offers but we claim something better. We claim our control is more trustworthy--at least we understand it. We don't though, not really, not even our own control. Because we don't know the repercussions of our actions at times, and we don't know how they affect certain people. It's a facade of control, yet we settle for it. The thing is we don't do this because we don't think God's grace is good enough. We do it because we are TERRIFIED.
We run from that which threatens to change us. We are afraid of being daily brought to tears by something so unfathomable. So we say instead, "It can't be." God's grace can't exist, we justify, maybe not openly to anything other than our heart of hearts, because I don't know how to accept it.
HIS GRACE IS SUFFICIENT.
I have a form of godliness. But up to this point in my life I have denied its power. We keep working for our own salvation, trying to be better, trying to improve. And God scoffs. He thinks it's disgusting. Our attempts are like the dirt on the bottom of a shoe. What would it mean to live out of the grace of God?
IT MEANS YOU ARE ENOUGH. YOU'RE NOT TOO MUCH. YOU ARE A CHILD OF THE LIVING GOD.
He is fiercely devoted to seeing your sanctification complete. And as our chapel speaker said today, our sanctification is learning how to accept our justification.
And as mini wanna-be gods, this takes us a lifetime.
We can claim no security except in that which sustains us. He goes by many names, but He is one. We can know no certainty in this world, but He is not of the world.
GRACE. Believe it. Accept it. And go forth, my child.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Inquiry of Quietness
Par request, and perhaps lack of responsibility on my part (that I don't have the book I'm supposed to be reading for class), I have decided to blog about my thoughts lately. They are kinda crazy and not so well thought out and really personal, so that's your warning. And, I'm not even sure if there's truth in them. So there's that.
Now I'm rethinking if I should even post them...I mean why as a Christian would I throw something out there that might not even be truth? Well, I guess because my point isn't really to come up with truth just yet, but to wrestle with what I have. This conclusion I have come to because of my education reading for today...but enough of the boring stuff.
To be known or unknown, to be selfless or aware of self...these questions have been haunting me as of late. I'm used to speaking my mind, to letting people know what I think and being bold in it...I thought I could do this respectfully, but a comment from one of my supposed best friends made me question whether I could: she said, "You don't share your opinion with any respect, ever." At first I thought maybe she was right, and at times I know she is, but I had been overlooking something very, very obvious. She was insecure. She was competing with me. Any chance she had to put me down, she took it, in the name of God of course. I don't mean to bash her in any way because maybe in all of it she didn't mean to do it or she meant well. Nevertheless, I began again to question who I was, whether I was good enough, why, after only a few years, this friend of mine didn't seem to like me anymore. What was I doing wrong? How could I make her feel good about herself so she could realize that I wasn't against her, that she signed me up for a competition I never meant to enter?
I thought, maybe I'm too full of myself and I need to learn to close my mouth, to be the humble one and to let others shine. I thought maybe the way to find myself again in Christ was to be silent. Really, to be someone else. It took me a long time to realize, but you cannot intentionally be humble. If you go into a situation and say, I'm going to be humble about this, ironically you're being the opposite. Because you're thinking of yourself & how you're going to react. This may be humility on the outside, it may even be interpreted as humility to the other person, but God who looks at the heart knows. He knows & that scares me.
Where do we draw the line between changing our personality and being rid of sin? I'm in this constant battle with myself, and as I write this, I'm convicted because I know the answer. I KNOW. It's just that I want so hard to be holy that I try to get there myself. I say, God, maybe if I try a little harder, if I'm more conscious of it, I'll change. But that made me miserable. I thought, looking back on today, who was that girl sitting in those classes, timid like she was afraid of herself, afraid of other people knowing about her? That's not me at all. I've never questioned this part of myself because I've never had to before. No one has ever been so insecure with themselves that they start attacking me...and I had always been confident in who Christ made me...until I came to Wheaton.
Then there's the Bible, right? It should hold the heaviest say in my life. It says to be selfless, but does it say to be unknown? I think this is where personality kicks in, although sin can definitely corrupt it. It's where you stop obsessively caring what other people are going to think of what you have to say or judge you without a word. It's throwing off the gross, disgusting baggage that people throw on you because you "ought" to be different, according to their screwed up standards.
Why do we ever answer to anyone besides God?
For if we seek God first, we gain the wisdom needed to answer to others for our actions as well.
I'm also really drawn to quiet, contemplative people, and I think that's what made me want to be that way. I have to face the truth though...that God has a purpose for me WITH my personality type and that the time I spent trying to model someone else besides Jesus is time wasted. I can't be indignant about the time that has slipped away because of how I've let some people in my life walk all over me, but I can reclaim my identity in Christ.
Last thoughts: The body of Christ is beautiful. I'm not talking the screwed up agendas and politics, the misinterpretations of Scripture and the claims that God is on our side. I mean the real, authentic body of Christ, the Holy Spirit that dwells within every true follower and brings about our flourishing. We have to realize, however, that each is created uniquely in the image of God. Some people are most comfortable being unknown, being quiet, until others take the time to know these people. And then there are people like me, the ones who are comfortable with vulnerability, who would be lying to themselves if they tried to hide themselves away, and who deeply want to know those who are unknown. I think the heart of God belongs to both.
Now I'm rethinking if I should even post them...I mean why as a Christian would I throw something out there that might not even be truth? Well, I guess because my point isn't really to come up with truth just yet, but to wrestle with what I have. This conclusion I have come to because of my education reading for today...but enough of the boring stuff.
To be known or unknown, to be selfless or aware of self...these questions have been haunting me as of late. I'm used to speaking my mind, to letting people know what I think and being bold in it...I thought I could do this respectfully, but a comment from one of my supposed best friends made me question whether I could: she said, "You don't share your opinion with any respect, ever." At first I thought maybe she was right, and at times I know she is, but I had been overlooking something very, very obvious. She was insecure. She was competing with me. Any chance she had to put me down, she took it, in the name of God of course. I don't mean to bash her in any way because maybe in all of it she didn't mean to do it or she meant well. Nevertheless, I began again to question who I was, whether I was good enough, why, after only a few years, this friend of mine didn't seem to like me anymore. What was I doing wrong? How could I make her feel good about herself so she could realize that I wasn't against her, that she signed me up for a competition I never meant to enter?
I thought, maybe I'm too full of myself and I need to learn to close my mouth, to be the humble one and to let others shine. I thought maybe the way to find myself again in Christ was to be silent. Really, to be someone else. It took me a long time to realize, but you cannot intentionally be humble. If you go into a situation and say, I'm going to be humble about this, ironically you're being the opposite. Because you're thinking of yourself & how you're going to react. This may be humility on the outside, it may even be interpreted as humility to the other person, but God who looks at the heart knows. He knows & that scares me.
Where do we draw the line between changing our personality and being rid of sin? I'm in this constant battle with myself, and as I write this, I'm convicted because I know the answer. I KNOW. It's just that I want so hard to be holy that I try to get there myself. I say, God, maybe if I try a little harder, if I'm more conscious of it, I'll change. But that made me miserable. I thought, looking back on today, who was that girl sitting in those classes, timid like she was afraid of herself, afraid of other people knowing about her? That's not me at all. I've never questioned this part of myself because I've never had to before. No one has ever been so insecure with themselves that they start attacking me...and I had always been confident in who Christ made me...until I came to Wheaton.
Then there's the Bible, right? It should hold the heaviest say in my life. It says to be selfless, but does it say to be unknown? I think this is where personality kicks in, although sin can definitely corrupt it. It's where you stop obsessively caring what other people are going to think of what you have to say or judge you without a word. It's throwing off the gross, disgusting baggage that people throw on you because you "ought" to be different, according to their screwed up standards.
Why do we ever answer to anyone besides God?
For if we seek God first, we gain the wisdom needed to answer to others for our actions as well.
I'm also really drawn to quiet, contemplative people, and I think that's what made me want to be that way. I have to face the truth though...that God has a purpose for me WITH my personality type and that the time I spent trying to model someone else besides Jesus is time wasted. I can't be indignant about the time that has slipped away because of how I've let some people in my life walk all over me, but I can reclaim my identity in Christ.
Last thoughts: The body of Christ is beautiful. I'm not talking the screwed up agendas and politics, the misinterpretations of Scripture and the claims that God is on our side. I mean the real, authentic body of Christ, the Holy Spirit that dwells within every true follower and brings about our flourishing. We have to realize, however, that each is created uniquely in the image of God. Some people are most comfortable being unknown, being quiet, until others take the time to know these people. And then there are people like me, the ones who are comfortable with vulnerability, who would be lying to themselves if they tried to hide themselves away, and who deeply want to know those who are unknown. I think the heart of God belongs to both.
Friday, December 23, 2011
If You Wanna Go...
That awkward moment when you realize someone you once really cared about has become someone you still care about. Not even become, if you're going to be honest, but really always has been.
It's late, my eyes are tired, but my spirit is even more tired of caring for people and things in my life that honestly don't deserve it...the people who have totally messed with my heart but yet can still bring me to tears in one thought. They are the people who make me hate that I'm so sensitive, that I let them into my life at all, that I would still be willing to give them a chance if they were to ask for one. Does that make me pathetic? Weak? Or does that make me grace-giving?
But the other half of me shuts down the care with little ounces of dignity and self-worth. No one should settle for being kind of liked or for uncertainty that ends in heartache. We cling to what we love, even if it doesn't love us back. Are we like Christ in that way?
Maybe it's the self-analyzation that should stop. Maybe I've stepped into the trap of thinking about how I can best serve God instead of focusing on God Himself. I mean isn't that what church is teaching us these days? What if I don't trust in my own strength?
I have way too many questions and no answers, like usual. Actually though, I do have an answer for something, a little piece of truth. You can't make someone love you if they don't, and even a step farther than that, you can't make someone admit that they do if they won't. The wisdom comes in realizing that these two things are the same.
So for all the people who don't think you're worth it or aren't sure enough about themselves to ever love you the way you should be loved, let them walk away without a fight. If they wanna go, just let them go. And if they ever have the audacity to come back, forgive them. But remember that they have an unsophisticated heart, and remember the precious nature of yours. For it is in forgetting that we lose ourselves.
It's late, my eyes are tired, but my spirit is even more tired of caring for people and things in my life that honestly don't deserve it...the people who have totally messed with my heart but yet can still bring me to tears in one thought. They are the people who make me hate that I'm so sensitive, that I let them into my life at all, that I would still be willing to give them a chance if they were to ask for one. Does that make me pathetic? Weak? Or does that make me grace-giving?
But the other half of me shuts down the care with little ounces of dignity and self-worth. No one should settle for being kind of liked or for uncertainty that ends in heartache. We cling to what we love, even if it doesn't love us back. Are we like Christ in that way?
Maybe it's the self-analyzation that should stop. Maybe I've stepped into the trap of thinking about how I can best serve God instead of focusing on God Himself. I mean isn't that what church is teaching us these days? What if I don't trust in my own strength?
I have way too many questions and no answers, like usual. Actually though, I do have an answer for something, a little piece of truth. You can't make someone love you if they don't, and even a step farther than that, you can't make someone admit that they do if they won't. The wisdom comes in realizing that these two things are the same.
So for all the people who don't think you're worth it or aren't sure enough about themselves to ever love you the way you should be loved, let them walk away without a fight. If they wanna go, just let them go. And if they ever have the audacity to come back, forgive them. But remember that they have an unsophisticated heart, and remember the precious nature of yours. For it is in forgetting that we lose ourselves.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
That Awkward Time When You Don't Want to Start Something New...
So I'm sitting here after my philosophy final thinking about everything I could have added but didn't, about all the hours I spent prepping for the other questions that I never got to answer while my mind takes some time to recover. And since I have dinner plans in twenty minutes, I thought it a perfect time for a blog post.
It's about that time when I start reflecting on this past semester, its importance, and what it's taught me about life, or rather what God has taught me through it. I only took 15 credits, so I don't have much to show for what I've learned, especially since getting straight A's is totally out of the question. But man, it's been some semester :) The integration I experienced between education psychology, Old Testament, and philosophy is quite incredible; I never knew how integral the nature of how we welcome goods and what a child needs to develop and viewing Genesis as a function account rather than a creation account could become when studied simultaneously. Such is the beauty of a liberal arts education. Not only have my classes been incredible (and excruciatingly yet pleasantly? tough), but my rooming situation has added greatly to my life. It's been extremely difficult learning how to best love and live with my best friend, and it's been rough most of the time, but only because of that roughness can we have its opposite. Never before have I acknowledged my insatiable desire to please people because my personality is so strong that it obscures this. It's true though, like mother like daughter, I've inherited this flaw. And so has my roommate, but it's expressed in a completely different way. Where she changes outwardly in response to people's demands and wants of her, I change inwardly. I let the ones I love walk all over me, I let their opinion of me create a war against myself, and I keep my true voice from being heard so as not to be seen as obstinate. Most people would probably say they hear my true voice too often, but not regarding relationships. I can speak my mind about ideas and still respect yours, but I can't stand up for myself in a relationship if it knocks the other person down. Sometimes however, as I've found recently, by letting someone walk on you in a relationship you're making sure they never truly learn how to treat someone and so are limiting their ability to flourish. Maybe it's not a knocking down that occurs when you lovingly stand your ground but a picking back up, a dusting off, into the will of God.
So here's to this semester, for finding my voice again through the grace and peace extended to me through Jesus Christ. Here's to this semester, which has brought with it an even stronger calling to education, to writing, and to philosophy. And finally, here's what was worth more than even the $17,000 spent on this semester: that I've found my way through Divinity to the path of trust.
Keep carrying the fire.
His,
Cristina
It's about that time when I start reflecting on this past semester, its importance, and what it's taught me about life, or rather what God has taught me through it. I only took 15 credits, so I don't have much to show for what I've learned, especially since getting straight A's is totally out of the question. But man, it's been some semester :) The integration I experienced between education psychology, Old Testament, and philosophy is quite incredible; I never knew how integral the nature of how we welcome goods and what a child needs to develop and viewing Genesis as a function account rather than a creation account could become when studied simultaneously. Such is the beauty of a liberal arts education. Not only have my classes been incredible (and excruciatingly yet pleasantly? tough), but my rooming situation has added greatly to my life. It's been extremely difficult learning how to best love and live with my best friend, and it's been rough most of the time, but only because of that roughness can we have its opposite. Never before have I acknowledged my insatiable desire to please people because my personality is so strong that it obscures this. It's true though, like mother like daughter, I've inherited this flaw. And so has my roommate, but it's expressed in a completely different way. Where she changes outwardly in response to people's demands and wants of her, I change inwardly. I let the ones I love walk all over me, I let their opinion of me create a war against myself, and I keep my true voice from being heard so as not to be seen as obstinate. Most people would probably say they hear my true voice too often, but not regarding relationships. I can speak my mind about ideas and still respect yours, but I can't stand up for myself in a relationship if it knocks the other person down. Sometimes however, as I've found recently, by letting someone walk on you in a relationship you're making sure they never truly learn how to treat someone and so are limiting their ability to flourish. Maybe it's not a knocking down that occurs when you lovingly stand your ground but a picking back up, a dusting off, into the will of God.
So here's to this semester, for finding my voice again through the grace and peace extended to me through Jesus Christ. Here's to this semester, which has brought with it an even stronger calling to education, to writing, and to philosophy. And finally, here's what was worth more than even the $17,000 spent on this semester: that I've found my way through Divinity to the path of trust.
Keep carrying the fire.
His,
Cristina
Sunday, December 4, 2011
The Haunting of the Heart
My heart has undergone quite a bit since November of 2010, yet it still seems to ask the same questions. I think I'm finally starting to understand that as cliche as it sounds, He is the only answer. This conclusion, as seemingly shallow and amateur to the Christian faith, was reached logically for me a long time ago. But it took me a broken relationship, family illness, friendship betrayal, philosophical quandaries, and a whole lot of confusion for it to resonate in my soul.
I've never felt fulfilled in my life, although I have had moments, days, and even weeks that appeared so. I thought that if I just sought God harder, dove into His Word more adamantly, I would finally get the questions of my heart answered. But God doesn't promise self-fulfillment here on earth, as my Old Testament teacher reminded us on Friday. And finally, I felt my soul say, Yes, it is well. Finally something was answering its scream with, "You weren't meant to!" I am outrageously blessed and at times I'm filled with joy that can only come from the spiritual realm, but still something haunts me. Something evades my senses and threatens me with its chill. Just like the love that I lost last year.
St. Augustine describes in Confessions how he nailed his heart to a person, and when that person backed up, it stretched his heart so far that it broke. Who gave us these nails? Maybe it was God. Maybe these nails were meant to bring us to Him but our sin corrupted our actions. No, though. I don't think God gave them to us. We don't need nails to bind our wandering hearts to the Maker of them--we need trust, that which ebbs and flows with each circumstance but remains steadfast. I think our enemies give us nails. Culture says fulfillment is to be had. The ones who want us to love them manipulate us into thinking we need them, and we sometimes become their slaves. The enticement of security and certainty beckons from a distance, saying who can take out these nails once you've pierced them? And we laugh when we find out that it was partially true, that our heart broke instead. There's a morbidity to it, what we do to ourselves, what we let our enemies do to us. But we think it's all there is. We think we've found the answer to life even though we can't hold it long enough to know for sure.
Even when we find an answer, we want a different one, or we want more questions so we can find more answers. We can only be satisfied with what is infinite and eternal. So let your heart be haunted this Christmas season, let it hunger and thirst for that which is eternal--resting at the fountain of Living Water all of us crazy Christians talk about. It's not a promise of complete fulfillment because in this life we only catch glimpses of what is to come. But it is a promise of restoration, of redemption, of beauty, and most ontologically, of TRUTH.
My heart has been left aching in search, but it aches now instead for what is good and noble and pure. I'll leave you with my own meditation, a future marriage mirror of mine that reflects the very fiery passion of my soul that seeks the most Wild Lover in all of history.
I've never felt fulfilled in my life, although I have had moments, days, and even weeks that appeared so. I thought that if I just sought God harder, dove into His Word more adamantly, I would finally get the questions of my heart answered. But God doesn't promise self-fulfillment here on earth, as my Old Testament teacher reminded us on Friday. And finally, I felt my soul say, Yes, it is well. Finally something was answering its scream with, "You weren't meant to!" I am outrageously blessed and at times I'm filled with joy that can only come from the spiritual realm, but still something haunts me. Something evades my senses and threatens me with its chill. Just like the love that I lost last year.
St. Augustine describes in Confessions how he nailed his heart to a person, and when that person backed up, it stretched his heart so far that it broke. Who gave us these nails? Maybe it was God. Maybe these nails were meant to bring us to Him but our sin corrupted our actions. No, though. I don't think God gave them to us. We don't need nails to bind our wandering hearts to the Maker of them--we need trust, that which ebbs and flows with each circumstance but remains steadfast. I think our enemies give us nails. Culture says fulfillment is to be had. The ones who want us to love them manipulate us into thinking we need them, and we sometimes become their slaves. The enticement of security and certainty beckons from a distance, saying who can take out these nails once you've pierced them? And we laugh when we find out that it was partially true, that our heart broke instead. There's a morbidity to it, what we do to ourselves, what we let our enemies do to us. But we think it's all there is. We think we've found the answer to life even though we can't hold it long enough to know for sure.
Even when we find an answer, we want a different one, or we want more questions so we can find more answers. We can only be satisfied with what is infinite and eternal. So let your heart be haunted this Christmas season, let it hunger and thirst for that which is eternal--resting at the fountain of Living Water all of us crazy Christians talk about. It's not a promise of complete fulfillment because in this life we only catch glimpses of what is to come. But it is a promise of restoration, of redemption, of beauty, and most ontologically, of TRUTH.
My heart has been left aching in search, but it aches now instead for what is good and noble and pure. I'll leave you with my own meditation, a future marriage mirror of mine that reflects the very fiery passion of my soul that seeks the most Wild Lover in all of history.
i focused on our foot steps, the soft patting of our worn soles against the gravel. so much peace, so much security. i have this smile. this particular smile. but it only comes out when i feel like everything is right, when the bad fades into this part of myself that i’m no longer in touch with. well, there is no time when everything is right, just when it feels right. when my soul is longing for this guy they called jesus but at the same time, it’s so full. so full. we continue walking. he leads the conversation. i think back to another.
i like when the girl talks, he had said. because i never really have much to say. and if she doesn’t say anything, then it’s awkward, and i don’t like it.
no, he’s not. no. he has things to say. he has people to love. he has places to see. he has a world in his heart and his mind that he’s ready to explore. we sit down under a tree. our tree. the one with the weeping branches that sways so smooth. we like the drooping branches, the ones that look heavy but yet yell this lightness, this air of softness, of strength. i don’t lean against him. i don’t have to. i want to, with the want of the world, but something stops me. this tug on my heart. it pulls. to gaze upon someone who finds his strength from the maker of that tree that we call ours. what longing we find there. but this longing isn’t of the world. he knows that. we know. so there’s no need for touch, for treasure to become temptation. more power exists in the patience, a power we are both enslaved to. it frees us. it frees us to know this power we don’t possess is surrounding us in the sways so smooth, in the wind that whips my hair from my face, in his eyes where such intention lies. i think back to another.
to be in the way of his intention rather than the intent of his intention. oh the difference! to be talked to, but no, not as an equal, as a means to mention something memorable. school, he had said, home he had said, surface talk.
the subconscious, he said, the supernatural. these things which we think about, that make up the substance. the majesty of the arts...books, poems, lyrics. together, under the sways so smooth we silence our souls. to know, to be known is to know the lord. the only lord. we submit. we sink into the earth. he smiles at me and says i’m captivating, i love to love the lord in you, he said, i love to love the mind in you, i love to love that smile. that particular smile, he said. knowing that i can never put it there alone. i think back to another.
he didn’t try to make me smile. he didn’t care. he was there. yea, he was there. he saw me. yea, he saw the outside of me. he didn’t care to know more. he was a godly man, he liked sunday service. punctual. consistent. he will provide someday, he will. he’s a moral man. don’t try to impress them, i had said. they already like your face, your features. they like your lackadaisical lay, your casual way. they don’t need the mind, they have the eye.
what’s it mean, he asked, to turn water to wine. what’s it mean to have an undivided heart, neither hot nor cold. o church of Laodicea! why do we not think about the way we think or sit together, together, under the sways so smooth and not awe at his majesty, his might, his mason jar. i want to travel the world with you, he said, i want to travel, and taste, to be tangential. and touch, to touch your skin on our wedding night. i want to love your imperfections, to wipe your hair away from your tear-smeared face, to get frustrated with you, to fear how you know me, he said. but, this want, this want comes from what’s good and pure and lovely and admirable. with you, darling, i want to serve the maker of that tree we call ours, he says. all the days of my life.
His,
Cristina
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