Monthly Archives: February 2005

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Quiet

Forgive me if this rambles or has lots of errors. I took some allergy medication shortly before I began writing and now I’m quite loopy….

Been a rather quiet weekend. Except for the fact that my phone nearly rang off the hook for a while. I am truly blessed with friends who love me and get concerned when I start talking about yelling at God and all. I’m so grateful for them!

I’ve been exhausted much of the time. Perhaps from wrestling with God. Perhaps just from depression. But I’m tired of whining to God. That’s part of what prompted my need to wrestle with Him. I’m tired of whining. Tired of crying out to HIm. I hurt, I want answers, I want Him to keep His promises — and yes, I want Him to keep His promises in MY time, not His. Well, while I know my passion moves God, I also know it won’t move Him to live by my timeline.

My relationship with Him is stronger, though, for the wrestling. He met me there, He fought with me there, and I now know beyond doubt He won’t leave me, He hasn’t forgotten me, and He will take care of me.

I still walk on a fragile ledge, though. The stresses of daily life can overwhelm me at a moment’s notice. Tonight I nearly crumbled under the weight of them, as I thought of all the things I don’t have settled, and how much I long for them to be so. 

Wendy wrote about Purpose the other day, talking about how single women sometimes get rather hung up on the issue, and wondering if David, Peter, Paul and others ever stewed over this issue or struggled with knowing what their purpose was. It prompted me to think of writing a children’s story about a pot wondering what it’s purpose was, since it seemed to rarely get used. Yet in the end it is the most special of pots, because it’s used only for special occasions, like making candy or perhaps to cook a turkey. My mom used to use the same huge pot to mix up and heat homemade ice cream as she used for baking a turkey. But she never used that pot for anything else.

What if we are like that pot? What if I am like that pot? And God only pulls me out for use once in a great while, but that use is incredibly important and special….

I realize we aren’t pots. Most people don’t have relationship with their pots the way God has relationships with us (unless you’re like my roommate, Adria, who’s nearly obsessed with cooking). I don’t believe we are just vessels for God to use for His purpose. If we were, then free will and all that is in vane.

No, we’re here for more than just to be used by God. I think we Christians try way too hard to simplify life down to its bare-bones. It’s either this, or its this. But life is much more complicated than that. It’s usually in the both/and that we live and  find the truth of life. It’s both hard and rewarding. Its both pleasure and pain. And it’s both purpose and just ’cause God wanted to have a relationship with us.

I love the show Joan of Arcadia. It portrays God the way I always experience Him. Not that God talks to me by taking control of other people, but the way He talks to me, what He says, and the way He acts, is so much like the way He talks to Joan — even down to the little wave as He walks away. 馃檪

Friday night’s episode was on love. And romance. At the end, God sums up the lesson for Joan by saying that Romance is an illusion, given to us because we wouldn’t risk otherwise. Then he concludes by saying:

"Illusion dies so something bigger can take its place. Love is hard work. You have to decide if you want it in your story, or if you want to stay in the dream."

More than six years ago I decided I no longer wanted to stay in the dream. I wanted to experience real life the way God intended for me to live it. I had spent years insulating myself and isolating my heart. But in one moment, I threw open the doors and let God in to every part, even the parts that were tender and raw from previous hurts and deep wounds. I look at where I am now, everything I have experienced, and I know it is because of that one moment back in October 1998 when I told God, "I want to LIVE."

Had I known then what I know now… I still would have embarked on this journey. I would have paused for a long moment, but I still would have opened my heart up to God and allowed Him to breathe fresh life into me. It has all been worth it to travel this road with God. For what has been birthed in my heart and lived out in this life I now have is NOT adventure, as I thought it would be six years ago. What has been planted deep in my heart and continues to grow even today is Love. A deep and abiding love — from Christ, for Christ and by extension for all those around me.

Love IS hard. Its hard work and full of pain. Those we love hurt us, disappoint us, and eventually leave us, their bodies decaying in the ground as their spirits live on in eternity. There is no way around this pain. No way. We must either endure it, or not love.

I want love in my story. Even with all the pain I have experienced, and the losses I endure, I would not give back a second of my time loving my parents, loving those who have rejected me and loving those whom I no longer see with my eyes.

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Tussling With God

I spent the night last night like Jacob once did, crying out to God, refusing to give up, arguing my case, spending myself in the struggle. I was not alone. God came. He fought with me. Not against me, but with me.

This isn’t the first time we’ve tussled. We’ve wrestled many times in the nearly 34 years I’ve been walking with Him. But this time was different than all the others. This time I had no intention of leaving Him if He gave me the "wrong" answer. This time I wasn’t threatening Him, or living in fear of Him removing His hand from my life. This time it was a true struggle, an argument involving both of us. I didn’t just tell Him off, I listened to His responses. I heard Him. And I know He heard me. This time it wasn’t about me getting my way. It was about me being able to be honest with Him about how I’m feeling and know that He isn’t going to shut me off, cut me off, or tear me down.

I’m so tired of living this life where I feel it’s not okay to be honest about my brokenness and my feelings, especially my anger — and especially when it’s directed at God. Those who love each other are willing to fight with each other, because they know the strength of their relationship, they know it can stand in the face of strong emotions and another’s resolve. And they are willing to test it, to test each other. Like God tested Jacob’s resolve as they wrested, and discovered Jacob would not be moved, he wouldn’t be discouraged from His pleas, or from his insistence that God deliver on His promises (Gen 32:12).

God proved Himself a faithful Lover. He stayed and tussled with me. He didn’t withdraw in a huff that I would dare address Him so. He didn’t smite me down for being insolent. Instead, He fully engaged in our wrestling match. And He discovered my resolve. He’s made promises. I want Him to make good on those promises. He’s made statements. I want Him to back them up with action.

God’s resolve can be strong. But He can be moved. Perhaps theologians would argue against that. I don’t really care. I know He can be moved. I know He because He was moved by my passion.

I never had any intention when I called Him out of leaving Him, no matter the outcome. And I told Him so. I love Him. Deeply. Passionately. Eternally. With all my heart. I have no intention of not serving Him or rebelling against Him. That is not the point of our tussle. The point of our tussle is honesty. If I cannot be brutally honest with the God who made me, with the Lover to whom my heart belongs, there is no hope of me ever living in integrity in any relationship I have.

For now, our tussle is over. He requested that I let Him go, for it was morning. He honored my request for a blessing… and perhaps I am already limping from a wound from a previous tussle… who knows.

All I know is that God loves me. And I love Him. He heard me out, He had the integrity and compassion to fight with me, and it was all worth it. The sun rose on our battleground and I left knowing I had seen the face of God, and lived to tell the tale. Not because I was better, not because He gave me a break, but because He loves me, He respects me, and He believes in me.

I also know one other thing. He knows my Names. All of them. And now I know one of them. Warrior Princess. For I am a child of the King, and while I’m no match for the Zenas of the world, in my heart and spirit I have the courage, compassion, passion and grace of a true warrior.

I’m going to bed now. I’m exhausted.

And then Jacob prayed, "God of my father Abraham, God of my father Isaac, GOD who told me, "Go back to your parents’ homeland and I’ll treat you well.’ I don’t deserve all the love and loyalty you’ve shown me. When I left here and crossed the Jordan I only had the clothes on my back, and now look at me–two camps! Save me, please, from the violence of my brother, my angry brother! I’m afraid he’ll come and attack us all, me, the mothers and the children. You yourself said, "I will treat you well; I’ll make your descendants like the sands of the sea, far too many to count.’"

….But Jacob stayed behind by himself, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he couldn’t get the best of Jacob as they wrestled, he deliberately threw Jacob’s hip out of joint.

The man said, "Let me go; it’s daybreak."

Jacob said, "I’m not letting you go ’til you bless me."

The man said, "What’s your name?"

He answered, "Jacob."

The man said, "But no longer. Your name is no longer Jacob. From now on it’s Israel (God-Wrestler); you’ve wrestled with God and you’ve come through."

Jacob asked, "And what’s your name?"

The man said, "Why do you want to know my name?" And then, right then and there, he blessed him.

Jacob named the place Peniel (God’s Face) because, he said, "I saw God face-to-face and lived to tell the story!"

The sun came up as he left Peniel, limping because of his hip. — Gen 32:9-31

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Raw Emotion

Larry posted a comment to my last post:

I understand about the Snark-O-Meter going off the scale… I understand about the Rebel taking the point. I even understand about being just plain overdone.

But could you please TELL ME what in the world is going on? WHY is the meter pegged? I’m trying to piece the story together and there just aren’t enough dots to make a coherent pattern.

I’m sure there are others who want to know. And I have no intent to try to stop the rebel. Rebellion is good for the soul as long as it leads to God, and you do have to rebel against much of modern life to get close to him.

Here’s the deal. Everybody’s got rules. Even the Church. Even God. I’m just sick of playing by the rules when it seems that God doesn’t.

Does He get to make up the rules? I guess so. This whole universe is His deal, so I guess the Creator should get to make the rules. But I’m sick of playing by the rules but Him not playing by any.You can say "that’s His right" till you’re blue, but I don’t care anymore. I’m sick of it. I’m angry. And I’m not gonna bury this anger because "He’s God", or stuff it down and pretend I no longer feel it because it’s "not my place" to fight with God, or argue with His "wisdom" or His inaction.

Yes, I said INaction. I’ve been begging God for two years now to give me guidance, direction just some sort of freakin’ clue as to why I’m on this planet. And so far I’ve got jack.

So I followed a couple of my hearts desires — because the more I prayed, the stronger they got. I thought, "perhaps that’s the way God is answering my prayers." Others concurred that might be the case. Now I’m living back in the States, as I desired, living in Nashville, as I desired, and pursuing some sort of freelance-type work in the literary world — writer would be ideal, but in the immediate need I’ll take proofreading or typing or whatever I can find — or perhaps the music world.

Oh, and did I happen to mention that I have no permanent work to take care of my permanent needs. That the work I DO have doesn’t cover but about half my monthly expenses. That the professional I spoke of earlier works in the literary world and his email pretty much crushed my fragile dream-made-from-heart-desires of immediate work in the literary world — and did a powerful number on my ego as well. And all this crap could be avoided if God would just freakin’ ANSWER my pleas for PURPOSE.

So let’s recap, shall we? God sends me half-way across the world to a team so dysfunctional it can’t even stand, then takes my parents to heaven and promptly quits talking to me. Except to say, "I love you." and "I’m here." Well, woo-hoo! Great, tell me how Your love and presence is gonna pay my bills, or satisfy my burning ache for purpose and direction?!

Yeah, I’m mad. I’m so storming mad I can’t hardly see my fist in front of my face. I’ve been begging God for years, Larry, YEARS, for purpose. I just wanna know what the heck He created me for. That’s all. Nothing earth-shattering like why the dinosaurs died, or what black holes really are, or why zebras have stripes and leopards spots. I just want to know why HE created ME.

I’m done. I’m done asking. I’m done playing by His rules. I’m now up in His face demanding. And I don’t care anymore if He "smites" me for my insolence. I’d rather He take my life than live like this anymore.

That’s the short answer. The longer version would take another two-hour conversation, at the least.

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Rebel Emerging

There are just times when I get sick of trying to live "right", when life’s crap has just piled up a bit too high and that little "ping" goes off somewhere in my soul and my rebellious nature kicks into overdrive.

I’m feeling it big-time today . Oh, yes. The rebel has come out, and she’s ready to fight anyone who dares get in her face. The rejection of my abilities from a professional — and, in essence, the failure/death of a large dream of mine —  pieces from a long discussion I was involved in last night, and a dream I had early this morning that reflected my sad, frustrated, rejected feelings from yesterday. Add all that to the complete frustration of daily life and you get one over-cooked Lu.

Stick a fork in me. I’m done.

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American Idol Reject

I feel like an American Idol reject.

You know, those people who can’t sing a note in tune to save their lives, and you wonder why in the world they subjected themselves to such humiliation — and others to such auditory agony.

Then, after Simon’s ripped them apart — and even sweet Paula’s shaking her head in utter disbelief that anyone could sound so wretched — they come out of the audition room in complete disbelief and devastation, all the while saying, "but everyone has told me all my life I’m so good at it!"

All my life people have told me I’m so good at a particular thing. Tonight a professional told me I’m not good at it "at all". I came away feeling just as devastated as an those Idol rejects. And it’s not like its something you can "get better" at. You  either have the talent to do it, or you don’t. And, apparently, I don’t.

I’m getting really tired of my dreams being squashed like bugs under God’s unyielding feet. Why won’t He just tell me what I’m made for, instead of letting me go through these painful exercises in futile vulnerability?

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Be-ati-wha…?!

This week’s challenge, laid out by my counselor last Thursday, is to meditate on the "beatitudes" with an internal perspective, instead of an external one — applying them to myself toward myself, instead of to myself toward others… I don’t know if I fully comprehend his meaning in all that. But I’m working on it anyway.

What I’ve discovered along the way is that I really don’t like the traditional translations of Matthew 5. "Blessed are the poor in spirit…" What the heck does that mean?? Seriously. What does it mean?

So I moved on to The Message. I don’t know if this is a translation, or a paraphrase… or whatever. But this makes sense. I get this.

"You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

"You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

Jiminy-crickets! Has someone opened a window into my life here! All I can think to say is, "Word!" That is my life all the way.

Every night is a testament to the grace and power of God and how He has given me the strength I needed to get through the day. I never wake up in the morning feeling I can make it. It’s really an issue of resolve, determination and tenacity. I take life one step at a time, one hour, even one minute at a time, resolved to never quit, determined to see things through, pushing on even when everything in me screams, ‘no more!’ Eventually, the sun sets, the evening ends and it’s time to lay my head on the pillows once more. Every night is a celebration that I got through it all.

And that celebration is an exclusive party of two. God and me. No one else can possibly understand the tremendous victory we have just won together. That second blessing is so very true. I have lost what is most dear to me. My parents, my dreams, my career, a sense of stability and security. Yet every single day God embraces me. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel His touch, hear His voice, powerfully sense His presence, and know His love, in deep and intimate ways I have no words to express.

"You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are–no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

I wish I knew what that felt like, to be content with just who I am. I’ve never experienced that.

"You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

"You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being "care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

Wow. Applying that inwardly — taking care of myself, not just others.

I know… I’m throwing some of you for a horrible loop. A godly leader is "supposed" to always focus on others. I mean, doesn’t this verse back up the idea that if we care for others, we will find ourselves cared for? But listen to me for a second. We ministry-types, we tend to get rather type-A when it comes to this stuff. We can end up caring for others at the expense of ourselves. Now I ask you: how does that honor God?

So where’s the line here? Where does caring for others, being generous with our lives, spending ourselves for God by serving others… when does that cross the line into being careless with our own lives, at the expense of our health, our families, our homes, our relationships with those closest to us? Where’s the line? Is it a clear-cut one, or a jagged one that moves all the time?

And conversely, when does caring for ourselves move into self-centeredness, and a self-focused me-ism life?

These are the questions that keep buzzing around in my head. I want answers, but God seems bent on keeping them hidden. Or am I just not seeing what’s plainly right in front of my face?

"You’re blessed when you get your inside world–your mind and heart–put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

"You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

"You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

"Not only that–count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens–give a cheer, even!-for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble.

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Dreams

Have you ever had a dream taunt you from just outside your range of memory?

For the last week, I’ve had remnants of dreams that dance around the edges of my peripheral memory, taunting me with a sense of importance and laughing at my inability to grab hold of them and perform a thorough dissection. Moreover, I think I’m having the same dream — or dreams with similar themes, characters and settings — every night, because the dream-wraiths all have a potent air of familiarity. It’s very frustrating. Like still being able to taste the spices from dinner, but not being able to remember what it was you ate. Drives me nuts!

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Bring Back Janet

I’m sitting here watching the Superbowl with Adria. Well, really, the end of the half-time show.

I "should" be writing — I have an assignment of about 1,000 words due tomorrow… it might be a leeetle late….. ‘Cause I’m watching the game instead of writing. I’m not interested in who wins, just who loses. I don’t want the Patriots to win. It’s a principle thing with me. They beat my Panthers last year. I want them to lose big time this year.

So half time… I have one word. Bor-ring. Not that I’m into these kinds of shows anyway. Last year I missed the moment all the hoopla was about. I was hanging out at the bar-b-cue, talking with friends when "it" happened. But I gotta tell ya, Paul McCartney may be cool and all, but he makes for a boring show — especially in someplace as big as a football stadium. What kind of show did the folks up in the attic seats get, I ask you. A few fireworks on two different songs, some videos shown on small long screens, and a little tiny ant-thing on a little stand

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Snark-o-Meter Warning: Exceeded Acceptable Limits

Dictionary.com
snark路y
Pronunciation Key (sn盲rk)
adj. Slang snark路i路er, snark路i路est
Irritable or short-tempered; irascible.
[From dialectal snark, to nag, from snark, snork, to snore, snort, from Dutch and Low German snorken, of imitative origin.]
snarki路ly adv.

UrbanDictionary.com
snarky
(adjective) describes a witty mannerism, personality, or behavior that is a combination of sarcasm and cynicism. Usually accepted as a complimentary term. Snark is sometimes mistaken for a snotty or arrogant attitude.
Her snarky remarks had half the room on the floor laughing and the other half ready to walk out.
Source: A Gianotto (snipe), Oct 9, 2002

Lu the-walking-Dictionary/Thesaurus
Snarky
(proper pronoun) Yours Truly
…Especially when my boss calls and asks if I’ll come into work, and I DO — on my day off — and then he doesn’t even get me a vente Chai Latte when he has Starbucks delivered for himself. Oh, yes. The snark-o-meter is high today kiddies.

Heh. He just thinks he’s getting work outa me. Little does he know this little engine doesn’t run unless it’s fed copious amounts of caffeine… the more the chai the faster we goooooo…..

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Heartsick

I’m heartsick. Absolutely heartsick. I just read Dawn’s latest post. My soul aches to its depths.

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

"Mosaic Nashville’s core team met again last night…"

I read this at the beginning of a blog of one of the members of the core team…it made me lose interest in the rest of the message.

I’ll explain.  See, I wasn’t at that meeting.  Bryan wasn’t at that meeting.  In fact, neither of us even knew this meeting happened.  It seems strange to me, because I thought we were part of the core team.

Bryan and I left our core group of believers in Texas to follow a calling God placed in our hearts.  We were setting out on an adventure to reach people in Tennessee.  We were joining a group of others with the same vision and passion.  We were the FIRST ONES IN NASHVILLE!  And now we are not even included in the core team!

Dawn’s right. She has every right to be angry. I can give reasons why she and Brian weren’t there, but ultimately they’ll just sound like empty excuses.

I didn’t know they didn’t know about our Life In Christ meetings. I’d been told they knew. I guess I misunderstood.

Oh, my heart hurts!! I love Dawn. She’s been a good friend to me. I look forward to seeing her every Sunday. If I were to be totally honest, I’d say I rather cling to her and follow her around like a puppy, because she’s one of maybe three people in the group with which I feel totally comfortable being myself. It breaks my heart to know I hurt her!

And I know the pain she’s feeling. I know that feeling of being left out all too well. All too well. It’s happened too many times in my life to ever forget the sting of it, and the anger that rises from the depths of your heart, the feeling that you’d been played, lied to….  I would never intentionally inflict that pain on someone else. And yet, unintentionally, I have. Oh, Jesus, forgive me!

I hope Dawn will forgive me…. I will take every angry, hurtful word she wants to say — or yell, or scream — at me. I know it’s justified. I know where it comes from. I understand it. I just hope when its all spent she will forgive me. Forgive us.