Patience is a virtue.

Patience is like ballet.  It appears with such elegance, dripping like honey across our bodies, developing into a full and bodily art.  Beautiful.  Grace.  Wonder.  What we desire.  Yet the art itself is excruciating to create--pain seeps into the inside ankle muscles, makes the lower back sore for days.  Patience.  Patience too, is painful.  We hurt so good to see it complete in us, to long for the Lord's work which battles within-- our quick, impulsive selves driven by society drawing our flesh in reverberations against our soul.

But I continue to wait upon the Lord.  Because I refuse to settle for a Saul (1 Samuel 15).  No, I wait upon the Lord, suffer through the tight pull of tangible flesh against the things above, spiritual, which draw me towards the everlasting.

I choose to obey.  I choose to let the Lord have His way.  Jehovah.

A Nomad's Hesitation

Over and over my liberal arts education has caused everything in my life to collide...this weekend, especially.  After I awoke this morning and prepared to attend yet another church, I was distressed with the fact that I'm a sophomore and am still church-hopping.  My mind wandered during the service, exploding with events from the weekend.  None of these events ever seem to pan out quite the way I always hope they will.

And I started thinking about the church.  What is the church?  Why am I still wandering in the desert waiting for Christ to call me somewhere?  Why, after a whole year and almost a quad do I feel as if I'm still in transition, losing friendships I thought would last forever in replacement of uncertainty?  The only thing I knew as I sat there was that I don't like dressing up for church.  Yes, that's the profound thought that entered my mental framework.  Great.  Great start, deciding where I want to go to church based on my own preferences and going against cultural norms of Sunday's best attire all at once.  But I began to unpack that thought.  The Sabbath is a time for us as Christians to give up our control...to tell God that we're a mess, and that we need  everything He is because no one else can ever be Him.  I want to feel comfortable in my church.  Is that such a horrible thing?  A lot of messages have registered in my head since being at Wheaton, and I feel like some of them aren't Biblical.  I think our own preferences are important.  Actually, I don't think God cares where we go to church, as long as His truth is resonating in our hearts.

The irony each of us encounter on a Sunday morning is astounding; we hear sermons about how WE can better live out the Christian life, but where does God fit into our attempts.  As a helper?  He is OUR GOD, not the other way around.  I wish more services could be focused on the nature of God, not how we can supposedly better connect with Him.  Our works are definitely not going to accomplish anything.  We need to say we can't live out the Christian life better because our attempts outside of Christ are ridiculously futile.  We need to stop seeing sermons as a checklist on whether we're right with God or not, whether we've done what He wanted us to do.  Reality check= we haven't.  He loves us...can't we just be?  I want to be at my church.  I want to come in sweatpants and just be with my Maker.  Ha, so I'm not planning on going to church in sweatpants next week, but that's the sense of comfort I long for in the body of Christ.  I understand why people dress up, and I respect their reverence, but that's not me.  I feel composed, put-together, like I'm holding in the chaos of what's actually happening inside me...I feel in control when I look my best.  This is why I think it's okay to say that's not me, despite popular belief that "it's not about us."  No, in essence it's not about us, but church is how WE connect to GOD and EACH OTHER.  And that's a three-way street.

Interestingly, the pastor started talking about Christ as the hub of the church.  My roommate explained yesterday about this video she watched in sociology about how in 6 connections, you are connected to everyone in the entire world, but how scientists are finding out that this is only possible because of hubs, like celebrities or powerful people.  Christ is our hub.  Without Him, we can no longer be connected to humanity.  You may disagree because non-Christians are connected to non-Christians...however, they aren't really ontologically connected.  They are just two people who find camaraderie in loving themselves and finding companionship in that similarity.  In order for the water to spring forth, we must locate the faucet.  I have found my faucet in Christ, but I still search for the manifestation of that on Earth.

As some final stray thoughts, my friend Dominique posted a song by Steve Moakler, and these lyrics struck me particularly:

The human heart is a scary part in fact
Because I could break you and you could break me back
Though my head says just forget it, you'll get hurt and you'll regret it
Ask me now, and I won't hesitate//

I've found myself hesitating this week, to express my thoughts, to admit my faults because I'm afraid of being broken.  We forget so often that our Father is the only one who has the potential to completely destroy us but is the only one who won't.  Refine us, but not tear us apart.  So, I guess I urge all of you to be honest in your petitions before the Lord.  Don't be afraid to admit your preferences.  And to not be shamed by a nomadic state, because after all, as brothers in sisters in Yahweh, we are all in transition.

Excuse me while I fall for the very Creator of my heart ;)

language- the spoken tongue of the soul

One of the strangest realities I've thus far encountered is that of human behavior, and after, the language of which our behavior externalizes itself.

When I made the acquaintance of Jose, a Spanish guy who lives in Lugo, last night, the Spanish custom of a kiss on each cheek seemed all the more awkward than an American handshake.  It wasn't the custom itself that was awkward but the fact that Jose wouldn't look at me.  I think this behavior was a result of me being not only a complete stranger but a foreigner by definition.  Mostly, though, I think it's because I am a girl, and he a teenage boy.  I feel in a way the complexities of guy/girl friendships/relationships will plague me for the rest of my life because they are just that-- complex.  As the night progressed, he made subtle glances my way, and by the end of the night, we were conversing together with only little bits of language barriers between us.

Because of this experience, something about language was uncovered to me.  See, initially Jose and I had the large chasm of it separating us from any sense of familiarity--he didn't know that I could understand him, and well, I didn't talk much at first.  And I realized that when first meeting someone of the opposite sex your own age, language becomes a clutch, a safe haven to guard against the awkward chemistry that surfaces.  So naturally without that commonality, we would rather avoid relationship altogether.  Until, that is, we realize that despite these differences in speaking, we have something much more tangible in common--humanity.

So here's to a kiss on each cheek, an acknowledgement to the Lord for the beauty of each distinct language, and a constant flow of thanksgiving to Him for keeping us connected to each other still.  To Him be the glory, and may we speak truthfully the language of our soul.

travel...es la vida?

It must have been quite a sight to see a half-American, half-Spanish 19-year-old girl sitting at the head of a table with six other Spaniards over the age of sixty (my grandparents and their friends) at a quaint but fancy restaurant in Northern Spain.  The funniest part was that you couldn't tell I was only half-Spanish until I opened my mouth.  The poor waiter realized that my first language was English and started listing off desserts, which my grandparents insisted I pick from, in broken English.  It was cute. Pero era tambien una pictura comica.

This experience, and many others I've had since arriving in Spain almost a week ago have had me thinking about the nature of travel, of culture.  I've heard from various people that traveling is "the life," but I'm not convinced.  There are many things that separate Americans from the Spanish, probably more than that which is similar...yet our similarities stand out, are much more powerful.  I see Spaniards begging on the streets of Lugo, and I think I might as well be in downtown Chicago.  I see people sharing angst towards the government, and I could be anywhere in the world...well maybe except the Middle East, but even now.  Languages, although distinct, have words that we all share, we all understand.  This is the danger in travel, that people begin to believe that because they are well-travelled they are in turn more cultured.  No.  You're not more cultured unless somewhere along your travels you change.  You gain a respect, not just a note, that these people have their own customs, their own way of life, and you are only a visitor.

See, it's not enough to simply be in an unfamiliar place.  Then how are you any different than someone who takes a wrong road or goes into an unusual store across town?  I am convinced that one could travel his or her whole life and still be lacking as much "culture" as a child of ten who has never left his small town.  The difference lies in your interactions with those of that culture, your willingness to see things from their point of view rather than instigating your own.  Your new understanding of how things work there before telling them you disagree.  It's enjoying their lifestyle.

I think we could learn a few things from the Spaniards.  For example, if you order un cafe con leche, which is an equivalent to a Starbuck's latte, you have to sit down to drink it, and it's about half the size of a tall latte in Estados Unidos.  The back windows of every car aren't tinted like in the U.S. on most cars.  Interestingly, the Spanish seem to be more guarded within their homes which are usually enclosed by a thick iron gate, yet are more carefree in public.  And la familia isn't just the people you live with...they're tu sangre, your blood, extending to all that in the U.S. we might classify as "distant" relatives.  I think everyone, especially Americans, would benefit from slowing down a bit, finding step with the Europeans in their morning cafes or afternoon siestas, for life is more than what you can accomplish in a business suit.

So if you're ever a tourist in another country, don't walk around like you're better than those who stayed wisely at home.  Because travel isn't just about the thrills, the change of pace, the extravagance of doing something else for a while.  It's about what sets us apart from each other, yet more intricately what connects us despite everything else.

There is much more in the world to see, to experience, than yourself.  And we are only blessed visitors.

complex vs. complicated problems

i went out with a friend about a week ago, and he told me about his theory, his theory of complex vs. complicated problems.  i won't go into much detail about the complicated problems because those don't involve people.  but complex problems, he said, don't have solutions the way complicated ones do.  he explained that as a child, the way you went about solving a problem was vastly different than the way you do now, or at least it should be, but that only helps you with complicated problems. of course this theory isn't fool-proof and can be confusing, but hear me out...

complex problems are complex because with every new interaction you have with someone, it changes your entire relationship, my friend explained.

only here's the catch: i think our resistance to change is limiting our ability to solve complex problems.  for example, you have an ex girlfriend or ex boyfriend and you see them randomly one day while walking down the street, and all of a sudden all these feelings of pain, regret, remorse come flooding back to you.  it's because you haven't let change have its way, you've stuck so long to who that person used to be to you that you aren't willing to give it up, let them be who they are to you now.

i realized that i don't want to run into people from my past and already have all these pent-up emotions about them.  i want to let every new interaction with them shape who they are in my life, to let go of who they were.  because this sick obsession with wanting things our own way keeps us from experiencing better things.  just because there were bitter feelings in a past relationship doesn't mean that person can't someday be something different to you.  maybe someday you won't feel anything but joy for them, if you would only let it be complex rather than stuffing it into the complicated category.  see, what if it's not a solution we need?  what if it's redemption?  what if we need to allow change to transform our messed up relationships?

i know that nostalgia can be a powerful remedy, but i think it's a fake bandage.  nostalgia can be good in small doses, but when it rules our lives, it takes the healing from our hearts.

it's time.  to move forward.  to deal with the past and stop letting emotions control.  the paradox is that when we let emotions control us, we miss out on the best of them.  and i don't just want to live my life, i want to feel it.

a day in the life...from a chemist's perspective

i started a chemistry class today, and i wanted to copy a little anecdote of their description of a typical morning...i hope it's as enjoyable to you as it was to me:

"Molecules align in the liquid crystal display of your clock and electrons flow to create a noise.  A cascade of neuronal activators arouses your brain, and you throw off a thermal insulator of manufactured polymer and jump in the shower to emulsify fatty substances on your skin and hair with purified water and formulated detergents.  Then, you adorn yourself in an array of processed chemicals--pleasant-smelling pigmented materials suspended in cosmetic gels, dyed poly-meric fibers, synthetic footwear, and metal-alloyed jewelry.  Breakfast is a bowl of nutrient-enriched, spoilage-retarded cereal and milk, a piece of fertilizer-grown, pesticide-treated fruit, and a cup of a hot aqueous solution of stimulating alkaloid.  After abrading your teeth with artificially flavored, dental-hardening agents in a colloidal dispersion, you're ready to leave, so you grab your laptop (an electronic device containing ultrathin, microetched semiconductor layers powered by a series of voltaic cells), collect some books (processed cellulose and plastic, electronically printed with light- and oxygen resistant inks), hop in your hydrocarbon-fueled, metal-vinyl-ceramic vehicle, electrically ignite a synchronized series of controlled gaseous explosions, and you're off to class!"

:)

what we've settled for.

i don't know what kept me from writing in a blog before...maybe it's the fact that anyone in the entire universe can catch a glimpse of my thoughts, that it's so vulnerable to be open this way, but i know that's not why.  because reality is that i've never had a problem being honest with anyone, my problem is actually the opposite- staying closed.  but that's the thing, what good is staying closed?  sure, you have the reassurance that your secrets, your sins are safe, but doesn't sharing part of your life invite the people you love to share parts of theirs?  so it's selfish then...but it's not, really.  it can be, but what if the real motive behind being open and vulnerable isn't to get what you want but to rend your heart from the world that isolates you, keeps you alone.  what if the real reason is to allow others to really see you, and in the process, maybe see themselves too?

and as i sit here, thinking back on my life thus far, to this very second, i'm surprised by the things i've tried to hold on to, even the guy that i fell in love with along the way.  the way we live life, it's so backwards, grabbing onto the things we think we need when what we need is the one who created these things. because through Him comes all good things.
so if the love that i wanted to settle for isn't from Him, then i don't want it.  why is it so hard for us to wait, creatures of habit who demand once and then spend our whole lives thinking that they belong to us.

i don't know, this life is chaotic, and it's messy, and so i'm going to thrash my thoughts out on this blog from time to time, unhindered.  i can't promise any perfect syntax, or even cohesiveness within my thoughts, but i can promise honesty. and honesty, my dear brothers and sisters, can be a beautiful thing, that is, if we're not being deceived ourselves.