Monthly Archives: February 2005

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Overheard and Remembered

"People do what they want to do. The rest is just excuses." — Tyne Daly, as Maxine Grey on "Judging Amy"

"Do what you want to do. Don’t do what you don’t want to do." — Alex McManus, as my friend, 2001 when I asked for advice on a particular issue of someone wanting me to do something that I really didn’t want to do.

When I pressed him further, Alex simply said, "People often do things because they feel obligated, or because they think it’s what others want them to do, not because they really WANT to do those things themselves…..  Do what you want to do. Don’t do what you don’t want to do."

What strikes me about both statements is the truth within them. They may seem to oppose one another, yet ultimately I believe they don’t. I think people do "do what they want to do" and at the same time, they don’t. They want to please others, so that’s what they do, even though what that leads to is NOT what they want to do.

When I think of all the things I’ve done because I thought others wanted me to, or because I thought it was what I was "supposed" to do, or I thought it was the thing that would get me in good with others…. Oh, the time and energy I’ve wasted! I did those things because I wanted to, but I wanted to for all the wrong reasons. And when I didn’t get what I expected, I felt bitter, resentful, and angry at those from whom I expected something.

Alex’s advice took me by surprise. It’s not at all what you’d expect a pastor-type friend to say. But it has stuck with me ever since. It is now one of the touchstones by which I make my decisions and take action. "What is it I really want to do?" "Do I really want to do this?"

Jesus said, "let your yes be yes and your no be no." In other words, don’t say yes to someone when your heart is really saying no. How many times has my mouth said yes and my heart said no? Far too many to count…

Since receiving Alex’s advice in October 2001, I’ve worked hard to check myself, to check my motives when I act. Over the summer and fall of 2003 I discovered afresh how devastating it can be to a relationship when our mouths make commitments our hearts are not behind. I was a participant in a friendship that was riddled with that behavior, and I was guilty of it myself. It ultimately destroyed the relationship. There is a bitter taste to eating your own words, especially when you’re heart outed you long ago.

In my present relationships — all my relationships — I have made a commitment to God and to myself that I will never let my mouth make commitments my heart is not behind. Better an honest "no, thank you" than a disingenuous "yes I will."

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It’s Snowing! …. uh, well….

I can’t help it. I’m a little California girl who hasn’t seen a whole lotta snow in her adult life. So I turn into a giddy little kid every time we get flurries. It started snowing a few minutes ago and of course I just went bazerk! I grabbed my camera and tried to get some pictures, but it’s too dark to get decent pics… this is the best I could do.


Shortly after I took this, it stopped snowing. Oh, well. At least we got a dusting.

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Fresh Rain

Can you smell it?

It’s the fragrant aroma of fresh rain falling. I began as I drove home from Mosaic tonight. I got a whiff of it and immediately opened my sunroof to the "tilt" position so I could take in the whole bouquet of it.

It’s a fragrance that immediately takes me back to my childhood. For some reason, even though I lived in many places as a child where it rained often — like Tacoma, Washington — the smell of fresh rain always seems to take me back first to Glorieta, New Mexico. I have wonderful memories of many summers spent at there, hiking in the mountains where the conference center is nestled, learning to make many fun things in day-camp, playing in the campground, and watching the daily thunderstorm make it’s way through the mountains on its way to Santa Fe.

But more than just the memories comes the feelings, of newness, of freshness…. hope. Every time I smell the rain I feel…. cleaner. Even if I’m dirty as I can get.

It was so refreshing to smell the rain tonight. I’m so tired. I’ve been exhausted all weekend. Not sure what’s going on… I just feel like I did when I had Mono back in the 8th grade. I slept most of today, and I still feel like I could sleep for another 12 hours. So to inhale that wonderful aroma of fresh rain and fill my lungs with it was like… like getting a cold drink of water on a hot summer day. Invigorating and filled with hope.

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In Love

His mouth is full of sweetness  And he is wholly desirable. This is my beloved and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem…" Song of Songs 5:16

I’m in love. So very, passionately, cray in love.

He’s funny, and wise, and brave, and heroic. He’s romantic, but also very rugged and manly. He always knows what to say, when to say it, and when to keep silent. He loves to laugh, but isn’t afraid to cry either. He’s larger than life and at the same time so very much down to earth and, "real". He’s transparent, authentic I guess is the best word. He is what you see and all you see. He hides nothing, yet at the same time is very mysterious. He knows more than I could ever dream to know. Yet He’s humble. He’s gracious, loving, passionate, kind, strong, powerful, skilled, creative, talented…. What can I say? He’s amazing. Just absolutely amazing.

Throughout the last three years I’ve cried on his shoulder time and time again. I’ve shouted him down a few times too. Whined a lot… all kinds of things. But he’s never complained, never gotten fed up with me. Instead, he’s always been there, comforting me, even when there were no words adequate to the pain I felt and the love and compassion he felt. He’s encouraged me in every endeavour I’ve undertaken, held me up through incredible pain, gotten me to laugh just when I needed it… man! What a lucky — blessed! — woman I am! Such a blessed woman. I know I am loved. Beyond doubt I know. He never misses an opportunity to tell me again of his love. No one could dream of a love this rich, this intimate, this passionate, this personal — it’s as if we were made for each other, we fit like hand-in-glove. I certainly couldn’t have dreamt of a love this crazy-wonderful.

And the craziest thing is I’ve never seen Him with my eyes. I only feel His Spirit within me, feel Him brush against me with every breeze. I see His hands and hear His voice in my mind… But I swear, I feel His breath on me every second of the day, breathing fresh Life into me.

I could never survive without this Love. It is what I live for. What I die for. It is the reason I am who I am.

His love. What a gift it is to me.

I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me. — Song of Songs 7:10

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Whew!

That was an evening.

I cleaned like a freak. Then sat down to dinner and watched some wonderful eye candy that could actually sing (can we say heaven in seven different languages!!) on American Idol — got a good crop o’men this year…. Then, just when I thought I was all cleaned out, I cleaned some more.

And I did all this before 10pm. Now that’s something to celebrate.

I sat down to write, but got so excited that I could actually SEE the wood on my desk that I thought I’d take pictures. I think the last time I saw it was shortly after I moved in here in, what…. October. Sheesh.


Look — My desk is cleeeeean!


Here’s the view I have from my bed… which, by the way…


…has new sheets!! Yippee! I bought these from Bed, Bath & Beyond, one of my favorite stores. It’s the sateen kind. YUM. They feel sooo soft. I knew the colors would go with my room and tie the blue of the bedroom in with the rich reds and greens from the bathroom, but I didn’t realize how well the design on the sheets went with the rest of my room till I got them home. Check it out….


I’ve got a Rose Theme going.


Cleaned up the dresser too.

And now that I’ve got all this cleaning done…. my throat is killing me every time I swallow. Now that’s a part of my anatomy I didn’t expect to hurt. Odd.

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Nesting

I must be nesting.

Within an hour of arriving home I had straightened up my room (no small feat, I tell you!), made three piles of laundry to walk down to the main building later to wash (oh, how I miss the days of having the machines inside my home!!), stripped and remade my bed, made dinner (and yes, I actually DID make dinner — fish sticks, mashed potatoes and sliced tomatoes) and now I’m sitting down to watch American Idol…. Laundry will come later…

As I was in the midst of this flurry of activity, I started doing some math… yup. I’m nesting. My body is definitely in that rush of energy that comes just before the agony of pain from my head to my… well, you know. Oh joy.

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Breathless

I only worked about 25 payable hours this week, but I put in a whole lot more work time than that.

Two different freelance gigs have come my way — writing gigs. Can you believe it?? People actually want me to collaborate with them on some writing projects! Will wonders never cease. — These gigs, however, have propelled me into a world with a HUGE learning curve needed. I’ve spent probably another 20 hours or so just researching, reading and brainstorming for these.

A third freelance gig is in the off-ing as well. A job working the board for a weekly radio show here in town. I wouldn’t work every week, probably. It’ll be more a rotation thing. But still. A chance to learn a new board, to learn Pro-Tools (an invaluable skill for an engineer), and the experience (and resume credit) I gain… cool!

Over three years ago I felt convicted that I wasn’t using all the talents God’s given me. Nor was I really tapping into the passions I have. Two of those areas I felt strongest about were writing and sound.

A little over a year ago, when I resigned from the IMB, I felt God releasing me to follow the dreams and passions I have in these two areas.

Eight months ago, when I made the decision to move to Nashville, it was with the intention of pursing these two passions. I had no idea how to go about it, I just knew I needed to pursue them. It was long since time. I’d hidden away out of fear of failure for too long.

So here I am, three freelance gig-possibilities in the two areas of my passions I’d moved here to pursue, "dropped" in my lap by people I met at my current part-time temp job — the one I thought would probably get me nothing more than a paycheck.

I am overwhelmed. I’m in awe. I’m excited. I am scared spitless! What if I can’t cut it? What if they don’t like my style? What if all three of these fall through? What if even after working my butt off at all three, I still don’t have enough money to pay the bills? What if…?

One "what if" I’d carried with me since I got here became a real-life situation yesterday. My car needed $1,600 worth of work — and that doesn’t include the transmission, which occasionally acts funny. I came face-to-face with my deep-seated unbelief of God’s reliability and trustworthy provision. My wrestling with Him left me with a new-found deeper trust than I’ve ever known before. Now that trust is being tested.

It’s a struggle. Part of me wants to run screaming into the street as I watch my savings — mom and dad’s inheritance gift to me — dwindle into near-nothingness. Or take the first job offered to me that’s solid, decent paying and permanent, so I can have the security that comes with it.

Another part of me is comforted with the knowledge that this is what dad and mom would have wanted me to do, that they would be proud of me for pursuing these passions, living my life the way I am and would have gladly given me everything they had to help me now. They were both very encouraging of my talents and passions in both writing and sound.

Another part of me  — and this part grows bigger every hour — wants to trust God, to believe Him — believe He will provide, even when that savings runs completely dry.

This is a new place in my journey with Him. I’ve never been this "both-and" before. Both scared and in awe of the whole situation. Both untrusting and desiring to believe. Both nervous and at peace. Not the all-well, life-is-a-serene-lake type peace. But a the-storm-is-raging we’re-in-the-rapids but-I-think-we’ll-make-it kind of peace. Have you ever felt that kind? You can’t really describe it, ’cause it makes no sense. It’s not the kind that makes light of the situation, or counts it as "no problem" for God. It’s the kind that understands the gravity of it yet is convinced there’s a Greater Source in charge. Not just watching over, but in charge.

Lest you think this is just all about money — I have also been overwhelmed with the knowledge that all three of these tasks are far beyond my skill level. Should they all come about I will be stretched far beyond what I can do in my own natural self.

Speaking of far beyond what I can do — Mosaic Nashville is another stretching exercise. The "core group" of us finished "Life In Christ" Thursday — we are fast becoming the "lead team", at least for now. Until new leaders rise up. We spent many hours this week brainstorming, struggling, debating, discussing and ultimately come to some decisions about our direction and action to take in the  immediate future.

I’m doing this. I’m really doing this. I’m helping begin a new community. Do you fully comprehend the sheer scope, the bigness, of this endeavour? It’s enough to leave you breathless.

And I am. I’m breathless. Breathless with wonder, and awe. With fear, and peace. With excitement, and apprehension. With clarity, and fogginess. With God, and me.

But God faced him directly: "Go in this strength that is yours. Save Israel from Midian. Haven’t I just sent you?"

Gideon said to him, "Me, my master? How and with what could I ever save Israel? Look at me. My clan’s the weakest in Manasseh and I’m the runt of the litter."

God said to him, "I’ll be with you. Believe me,, you’ll defeat Midian as one man."  — Judges 6:14-16

"You are my witnesses," declares the Lord, "and my servant whom I have chosen, so that you may know and believe me and understand that I am he. Before me no god was formed, nor will there be one after me. I, even I, am the Lord, and apart from me there is no savior." — Isaiah 43:10-11

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Barbarian

I’m a Barbarian Christian. There’s no other way to put it. I gave up on civilized religion many years ago. It didn’t satisfy me. It left me feeling frustrated, unfulfilled, empty. The life I now live is uncivilized, uncultured and raw. I follow Jesus where ever He goes. Not because He tells me to, not because I’ll be "blessed" if I do, not because I must. But only because I want to.

I followed when He parked me in Hollywood. I followed Him to India. I followed Him to the Mediterranean. And I followed Him to Nashville. Yeah, God loves even Nashville. Kid Rock and all.

I don’t run around saying "Praise Jesus!" or "Glory!" But that’s just me. I’m more the "cool!" "Awesome!" "Jesus, You Rock!" kind of freak.

I’m not into Christian-eese. I hate it when people use those big churchy words, like propitiation. I mean, really. Who talks like that? My dad used to. But he was 80 when he died nearly two years ago. You expect 80 year-olds to talk like that. But not someone half his age. And certain not someone a quarter his age!

In a nutshell, I don’t fit in in a "regular" church. Singing songs, listening to a sermon and going home to Sunday dinner just isn’t me. I need to get my hands dirty, be down in the mud and muck with the rest of the world. That’s where real life happens. In the trenches, with people. And dang, people are just messy.

Life got really messy for me. It’s been ugly and painful for about three years now. And I’ve spent some pretty hefty time in deep contemplation of whether this whole Barbarian thing is worth it. It’s a rough, rugged, bare-fisted kinda life. And I ain’t no camper-girl. I’m more you standard hotel/urban-lovin’ city-girl.

I came to Nashville to plant a church like the one I have in Los Angeles. But now I’m struggling with whether to commit fully to this venture. Barbarian or not, there’s only so much pain I can endure. Planting a church is about as easy and painless as birthing a baby. Yeah.

Did I mention I hate pain?

Yes, I am a Barbarian — an urban-lover-pain-hater Barbarian. It’s not about the warrior part — Don’t think Conan. Yikes, I’ll never be that! Think — Amelia Earhart. Or Katharine Hepburn. Or Mary Tyler Moore. The ground-breaker. The Pioneer. Fierce, and unwilling to yield to her own fears or the nay-sayers around her. Its not about slashing and dashing, it’s about… the courage to give your life to something bigger than anything you ever imagined. Its about the humility to be transparent, to be real and authentic, even at the cost of your own heart. Its about caring so much about the people in your life that you give your life’s blood for their well-being. Its about living out the Bible, not just memorizing it or talking about it. And most of all, its about having a deep, intimate, passionate, crazy-making, relationship — with the Creator of the Universe.

My teammates saw in me something I couldn’t see myself. Last night they reminded me that I AM a Barbarian. They celebrated my un-civilzation and in doing so, they momentarily cleared the fog of confusion brought by my pain and brokenness. It takes time to heal. The deeper the wounds, the more time it takes. My wounds are pretty deep. But I’m still here. Someday I will be better. Last night, for a brief moment I saw myself clearly in the reflection of my teammates’ hearts — and I remembered Who I Am.

My name is Lu, and I am a Barbarian.

The Barbarian Way

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Creativity

The other night I experienced creativity in a whole new way.

I’d watched my mom cook all through my growing up. It looked like chaos to me — a dash of this, two of that… one more for good measure, a sprinkle of something else. On it went, till she thought it tasted just right.

I thought she was either a madwoman or a genius. No cookbook, or recipe cards or aids of any kind, and rarely any measuring tools. But it always tasted perfect. Even when she didn’t like it, I thought it was heavenly (except spinach. I don’t think there’s any way to cook spinach and make it edible, nonetheless palatable).

The other night, for the first time in my life, I cooked like my mom did. I experimented and just kept tasting until it was close to mom’s. I figured I had nothing to lose. Adria was still at work, so if all went well, I could surprise her with dinner. If it all went south… Well heck, I could just throw it away, make a PB&J and pretend the whole thing didn’t happen.

I had a blast! Anyone entering my kitchen would have declared it a national disaster area and insisted the whole place be cordoned off till the experts arrived to assess the damage and begin clean up. Pots and spices were everywhere, small spills of liquid and a smear of olive oil riddled the counter, what a mess. If I’d been in a movie I’d have been covered head to toe with flour, my hair all a mess, BUT a beautiful banquet spread across the dining table.

But I’m not in a movie (even though I do have a soundtrack and a theme song — more on that later…). So I had to settle for broiled chicken, corn and muffins. Not much, but it tasted great. Almost like mom’s. And I did it all in my own unique brand of creativity.

I wonder if this is what God did, In The Beginning.

…God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning… — Genesis 1