Plans and Promises

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” – Jeremiah 29:11 (ESV)

So I have been working on this blog entry for about a month now. I began writing at the end of September but I started a new temp job and have been either crazy busy or completely worn out. I’ve had so much to say and express but I could almost swear, just because of how ridiculously difficult it has been to finish this, that supernatural forces have been working against me to keep me from doing so. Well, now…no more. I am finished, so here is what’s been going on in my life as of late.

This most recent season of heat (which, I might add, overstayed its welcome by a long shot) was, in a word, eventful. And when I say eventful, yes, I do mean brimming with self-discovery and growth. And yes, I do mean bursting with positive experiences and friendships. However, in addition to the aforementioned splendor, I also mean…well, let’s just be honest here…gushing with crap.

Now, hold on. Let me just say that this is not a piece devoted to complaint. Please, just bear with me. First, a brief interlude.

When I finished college last year, I came home with the intention of getting on my feet and settling into life as a graduated adult…and that is exactly what happened. God’s hand was so clear in my life, leading me in each and every step, and I was amazed over where His favor took me within a relatively short period of time. One year after my college graduation, to the day, I was promoted to full time at my amazing job. I was so excited about the future and the track I was on. I could just see my life playing out marvelously before my eyes…to the glory of God, of course.

About an hour after my promotion, an unforeseen shock came, seemingly, out of nowhere, opening a crazy jar of issues that spilled into my sanity. The events that followed led to my very necessary resignation from my job a whopping three weeks later. I was devastated and, all of a sudden, despite my experiences from the previous year, I found myself starting over at square one.

That was the beginning of the summer.

Now, I believe that everything happens for a reason and so I took this change of direction with a grain of salt. If God had taken care of me and led me so well the year before, He must have something perfect waiting right around the corner, right? So I waited. I applied for jobs and I waited. I invested in relationships (both romantic and platonic) and I waited. As the summer passed, I savored the blessings and shouldered the rejections in both jobs and relationships…and I waited.

All the while, countless voices in my life spoke words of encouragement to me. “Just wait,” they would say. “The Lord will take care of you. Hold onto His promises. Remember Jeremiah 29:11!” These words were all too easy to believe in the beginning, and they were certainly sustaining enough as the summer went on without progress, but the latter half of September brought my optimistic spirits crashing down hard. Within days, I was bombarded with multiple rejections that only built upon earlier summer rejections that I had not dealt with. The irritating pokes I ignored evolved into a few head-cracking punches that knocked me to the ground.

First, my temp job assignment ended abruptly. I knew it was not permanent, but the sudden drop, with no goodbye, hurt just a smidge. Second, my final interview for a permanent job, which I had been emotionally invested in for two months, was cancelled on me for the second and last time. That one hurt a bit more. Third, after being very intentionally pursued by a guy, I was suddenly dumped. Major ouch. And last, I felt like I lost one of my best friends. Quadruple ouch.

Basically, all at once, I felt the colossal impact of being strung along and rejected in just about every area of my life. I’d had enough and something inside me snapped. The sudden shock seemed to overload my circuits and fry my brain, making me hyper aware of the absolute lack of progress I had made over the last four months in my standing as an independent adult. My optimism froze and I was struck with a finality that stupefied me. All the responsibilities I had been holding at arms length came in close and crowded around my face. They started attacking me with questions and snide remarks, which I know are lies. But boy, when you’re down, you can believe just about anything.

I felt so incredibly alone and unloved. Incapable and stuck. Used and misunderstood. Neglected and invisible. I felt like an absolute waste.

My initial instinct was to run away. I went on a crazed job search one night for about four hours straight, searching with bloodshot eyes for any reasonable job that could get me out of this town and out of this stupid rut. After my fruitless search (and my unsuccessful attempt at avoidance) I finally started to deal with everything…from the entire summer. The weight of it all drove me to ask God, “Why did You even make me if all I’m meant to be is an unwanted and incapable burden? Why did You make me if this is all I’ll ever be? What plans and promises could You possibly have for me?”

I reasoned that God never really promised anything to me specifically. He never promised me a career, specific kinds of friends, or even marriage. His promise to give a future and a hope was probably only for the Israelites regarding their own situation in the Bible thousands of years ago. He surely wasn’t promising me a future and a hope. That is not to say that I completely stopped believing in God’s provision. He soon provided me with my new temp job and some income, for which I am grateful. I knew He was still taking care of me enough to get me by, but I wanted “to thrive, not just survive” (Thrive, Switchfoot). I felt like I was destined to never thrive. My loss of hope sent me slinking into a kind of depression that had not visited me in quite a while.

Alright, time for the progression.

After one week of my major depression, things started to shift. The state of my big picture circumstances did not change and I did not just…get better. However, one by one, little bottles of messages, released from the deep, began to pop up through the surface and subtly capture my attention, messages that spoke to my heart of God’s plans and promises…for me, and I began to glance up more and more from my gloom.

Just imagine being told to hold on to God’s promises, scoffing in disbelief, and then suddenly hearing references to God’s promises over and over again…everywhere…all the time. The messages came through tear-jerking songs, perfectly-timed Bible verses, heart-piercing sermons…even the title of my Promises for a Jesus Freak book, which I have carried in my purse since high school, caught my attention in a new way.

I have to say that God spoke to me the most directly through my favorite radio station, Air 1. It was kind of ridiculous, actually, just how blatant and frequent these messages became, speaking to me specifically about God’s promises. I would just be driving along in my gloom when a DJ would start sharing their thoughts, sometimes just a quick word and sometimes an entire discussion. Thoughts that spoke directly to my heart, complete with a side of encouragement, a Bible verse to quench my thirst, and a perfect song for dessert to wow me some more. Just because He could. Every single time, my jaw would drop and I sat, dumbfounded, in my car. No…way.

Here are the first three songs that shocked me into a stupor:

1) Promises by Sanctus Real: “Just hold on to the promises. Hold on to the promises. Jesus is alive so hold tight. Hold on to the promises.” Whoa, really?

2) Stand by Britt Nicole: “When I feel like giving up, when my heart is hurt too much, feels like I’ve reached the end. No I won’t turn and run. This battle will be won. When I’ve done all I can I’ll stand. On Your promise I will stand. All other ground is sinking sand.” Come on. Are you messing with me, Lord?

3) Right Beside You by Building 429: “When the world is on your back and you think that you will never last, when you’re lonely and you are confused, I’ll be right beside you. When the walls are closing in and you think you’d rather sink than swim, when there’s nothing left for you to lose, I’ll be right beside you.” Ah-bu-wha-huhhh? *goosebumps*

You can imagine my astonishment as more than a dozen similar songs have made their way to my ears and my heart over the last few weeks. Quite a few of these songs about God’s promises were brand spanking new but many of these songs I already owned. Whether new or old, all of these songs spoke to me about God taking care of me and getting me through hard times because of His love for me, a love that goes deeper than I can know. And it’s still happening! Just today, I caught another song and several verses that blew my mind. Wow.

I look back now on the way that these messages came upon me. I imagine myself sitting in the dark, crying after an earthquake until, suddenly, I stop…because I hear something. Portions of a gentle, holy whisper. I hear another, then another. Soon, a soft murmur comes in closer at my right and a clearer voice to my left. A faint breath of presence blows onto my face as a gentle touch wipes at my tear-stained cheek.

My love, I am here.

I love how Jesus knows the best way to capture my attention, so sweetly and lovingly, as opposed to a loud booming voice of condemnation that would terrify me and drive me deeper into the pit. He doesn’t do that. I can see now how He cared for my heart so gently as I lay broken and damaged, how He comforted me so kindly as my heart received and processed the messages of His plans and promises. Throughout the entire process, He communicated His presence and love to me, over and over again, through the random words of strangers, the reaching out of friends, and the relieving compassion of my family. He knew what I needed…how gentle and kind He is.

My best girl friend from college made a really great point to me that I had forgotten. God may have made those promises to the Israelites concerning their own specific situations, but He did not include these events in the Bible just to give us a boring history of things that do not pertain to us at all. There is a point. And one huge point is that, by studying God’s behavior in the Bible, we get to know His character.

Hebrews 13:8 says “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” We can witness God’s unchanging character traits through His interactions with His children in the Bible and the promises He made to them. If nothing else, God shows how extremely and utterly faithful He is to keep on loving a people who repeatedly turned their backs on Him. How awesome! And what a long cycle it has been for Him to endure such things from them, from us. He knows rejection better than anyone else, better than me, and yet He remains faithful.

You know what that says to me? If God was faithful and kind to His beloved ones then, though they themselves were unfaithful, then He, in His same unchangeable love, will surely show the same faithfulness and kindness to His beloved now. To me. And since He is unchangeable, all the promises He made to His children back then apply to His children now. He made those promises to His children as a whole, not just for those people during one isolated incident.

As I said before, none of my big picture circumstances have changed, but God, who loves to communicate through repetition, has made completely clear how vital it is for me to hold on to His promises. In the mean time, the Lord has provided me with solid temporary work, surrounded me with some amazing friends (both new and old), and established me with a strong support system. I am still waiting for some very important components in my life to fall into place…but I can wait now.

And I am learning (notice I’m still in the process) to believe, hold onto, and claim the promises of God in my life. That hope, that trust, and that peace that comes with the deepening of love changes everything when it would seem that nothing has really changed at all.

Smile at Life Again

Do you ever stop and marvel at how much you’ve changed over the course of a previous year? Have you ever looked back on yourself and asked, “Was that person really me?” Have you ever been a certain version of yourself for so long that you wonder how it’s possible that you could be so different now? In case you haven’t guessed, I tend to reflect on journeys. I like to reminisce over where I was exactly one year before and wonder where I will be exactly one year from that day.

Recently, I read an excerpt of my journal from the same time last year, astonished to realize that the difficult issues I was dealing with at that time, things that had a core influence on me throughout my whole life, seem like distant memories to me now. They were not even that long ago, but I feel like a completely different person. I experienced the somewhat curious sensation of suddenly awaking one day to realize that, somehow and sometime, it all just…ended. And a new life began.

Well, it didn’t happen quite so simply, and yet, looking back now, the transition was so seamless. Rather unremarkable and unnoticeable. I cannot pinpoint the exact day, the moment, in which I became free of the major issues that plagued my existence. Needless to say, I was driven to ask, “How could my ‘self-defining issues’ not even be a part of my life anymore? When did I finally begin to smile at life again?”

Last year, the residual reverberations of pain were still a part of my life. They still made a home in my heart and they still held my emotions captive. Battles had waged war in countless parts of me for so many years that the call for ceasefire had not brought the anticipated peace to my life. Yes, those battles, in the most defining of wars, had ended…but all is not well in the immediate moments of subsequent silence.

There follows an eerie echo of the shots fired. The cries made. The pain. I imagine standing in the middle of a quiet Civil War battlefield strewn with bodies as an overcast dawn breaks, breathing in the frosty air thick with the presence of death. One cannot smile at life again until the dead have been buried and mourned. Mourning cannot go on forever, but life cannot truly go on until mourning is complete.

One year ago, my war had been over for some time, but my mourning was incomplete.

Over the years, God had definitely worked some knots out of the muscles of my heart and smoothed some edges of my sharpened attitude, cleaning me up in different areas as I went along. I had definitely healed in many ways. But, this time last year, I was entering into yet another grieving and healing process over certain components of my life which had not yet been resolved. I knew it was a good process to go through in order to heal and move on, so I was prepared to deal with the issues.

However, this time around was different. I can see now how this experience was not merely another step in the healing process but rather the final step. Like cleaning a rough surface and having the most difficulty with the last layer of grime as it hides deep down in the crevices, the unreachable places that are so small you never imagined they even existed. This purification process was no longer merely a surface level sweep. The time had come for the deep cleansing to make the details of God’s work in me shine.

I can come up with more analogies but, frankly, I am most reminded of Lord of the Rings when Frodo and Sam finally reach Mordor and must crawl their way up the mountain. So close to their destination but the rigorous journey has made the last steps the most difficult.

Anyway, this particular grieving and healing process was, by far, the most confrontational, the most difficult, and the longest. This one took about six months for me to work through, and yet, in the end, this one was the most freeing. It had the greatest resolve, the most encompassing peace, and the most final of ends.

It’s hard to believe that all of the things that engulfed my life, all of the major things that made me angry, bitter, and depressed on a constant basis, have been dealt with and reconciled, once and for all. To think that this last year was the year. The year that I finally let go. Finally accepted the past. Finally forgave and moved on.

My negative experiences definitely influenced who I am today and the insecurities that resulted were so ingrained in me, taking up so much purpose in my life, that I could not fathom living without them. Ever. And now, it feels…normal to live life without those burdens. Like they never happened. Even though they did. Who would have thought that my hurts, struggles, and insecurities didn’t have to run my life?

They are just…gone. I said goodbye.

That is not to say that certain memories do not still hurt sometimes. They do, of course, but they certainly don’t own me anymore. They don’t rule my life. They made me who I was once, but holding onto those things would have kept me in a bad place, the place of war. I was still holding onto my way of life in war. That is understandable - wars are life-engulfing and earth-shattering experiences that change you forever - but enough time has gone by and enough healing has taken place so that my war no longer determines who I am or where I am going. My negative experiences no longer poison my outlook on life and separate me from Jesus, the most important person in my life.

I don’t know exactly when it happened - I had honestly reached the point where I had lost all hope of it ever happening - but I can honestly say that I can and I do smile at life again.

The Ever-So-Quick Evolution of Shock Value

            I think it’s pretty safe to say that I am NOT a fan of scary movies. Growing up, I was always pretty sensitive to disturbing images, and horror films scared THE crap out of me. The old black and white films were scary because of the more subtle images and off-camera implications, leaving the horrific elements to the imagination. The newer films tend to use more blatant visuals of gore as well as intricate elements of evil. And, most importantly, as a follower of Jesus Christ, I do not generally feel comfortable filling my mind with such disturbing things.

            All around…not a fan.

            And yet, there came a time, last summer, when curiosity concerning one particular horror film got the best of me and I broke down and watched most of it. This film is probably the most popular horror film of the nineties and I’m sure anyone born in the eighties or prior can guess the movie on their first or second try. I grew up knowing its basic plot, as well as the plots of all its sequels, and yet I never did see the film in its entirety.

            As I watched and the story unfolded, I was actually quite surprised at how very cheesy I found the movie to be. Still, I held out for the notorious twist in the plot that had people raving all those years ago and would elicit the smashing “I didn’t see that coming!” response. The actions of the bad guys were indeed disturbing, which made me ask all the more, “What could the psychological motivation possibly be for the villains to commit such heinous crimes?” (Actually, it was probably more like, "What the crap made them do that?") And finally, the denouement…the unfolding of the plot!

            “Huh?”

            This was literally my response. The reason that one of the bad guys went absolutely insane and murdered several people in horrific ways was essentially because (spoiler alert) his father had an affair with his girlfriend’s mother, which led to his parent’s divorce. Yes, that is horrible. That will most definitely leave scars on a person. However…I think, because such behavior is so common-place in modern society, this motive seemed to me a highly implausible scenario for someone going that crazy.

            Sufficed to say, the twist was a bit of a let down for me. I wondered, “That was it? How did that twist cause for the movie to accumulate such a popular appeal?”

            When I really thought about it, and when I think about other books and movies from the nineties, I actually find that I too was shocked by much lesser things as a child. It took much less to shock people back then, in general. Society was more sensitive, especially in the pre-crime-show-frenzy days.

            I remember the very first season of the original CSI. The outcome of the plot in each and every episode was so mind-boggling, interesting, and…shocking, and yet so tame compared to the twists that are thrown into the newer episodes these days. As the twisting increased, crime show after crime show came out, all with their own spin of creepy villainous behavior, and we grew hungry for more of the twisted and the disturbing. Society seems to have been numbed, relatively quickly, to the things that were once shocking. After all, the shock-effect was so appealing initially, it became addicting. “Wow! That’s crazy! How sick and twisted. I didn’t see that coming!”

            The things that were shocking twenty years ago, or even ten years ago, are not so shocking anymore. (I know that I personally feel like there is not much left to be shocked by.) I’m sure that, once this trend for shock was established, the business wheels of many entertainment industries began to fly. I can just see organizations in existence, consisting of countless teams of people who are appointed with the task of coming up with the most twisted and even disgusting scenarios available to the imagination, in order to keep up with an audience that has been utterly numbed to what was once known as the sensation of shock.

            I will be the first to concede that I have been numbed right along with everyone else. Maybe not as much, because I do still hate horror films, but my confusion over the plot of the horror film I watched tells me that the evolution of shock value has definitely had an influence on me. What seemed to me a weak plot twist was once considered to be shocking enough to produce crazy, cold-blooded killers. I would venture to say that such a plot twist would not carry much satisfaction with a modern audience.

Trust

Here is a devotional entry I wrote a few months ago. Hope this will bless you!

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” Jeremiah 29:11

            Throughout my growing up years, and most of my college experience, my family was in a constant state of falling apart. There were some things that were completely out of my control that tore roughly into the deep places of my heart, resulting in some ugly emotional scars and, if I say so myself, some highly unattractive personality traits. As a young girl, I invested myself in prayer, begging for God to make my family whole. But, alas, things only got worse with the passing of time. I concluded then that God was not interested in listening to me. In my mind, I believed I was simply a second-rate child of God who did not get the V.I.P. service. Somehow, I missed the memo and my lot in life would be to wait after those with the upgraded membership.

            When I became older, my circumstances seemed to me more than I could handle and, being the logical individual that I am, I no longer saw the stock in bringing my problems before the God who ignored me. I am invisible. The whispered words swam through my mind, soaked my logic in the lie that this was how God perceived me.

            I turned, accordingly, to an alternative source of coping.

            Since I had always been naturally inclined toward academics anyway, I did not even realize when this certain shift took place in my heart and mind. Very subtly, I turned school and success into my escape. When things got hard and control ripped itself from my grasp, I threw myself into my studies, complete with picky perfectionism, as this was the one thing in my life that I felt I could control. I had determined for myself one ultimate goal: to graduate from a university far, far away, then all would be well in the world and all my dreams would somehow come true.

            I worked hard in high school, enjoying my classes, getting good grades, gaining knowledge and experience. Finally, college approached and I dove in head first. Throughout the entirety of my college experience, I was the student being told by her parents to study less and have a little more fun. How many parents have that problem? Then, it came…graduation. The day I had always anticipated, but never truly believed would come. I had cycled myself through a plethora of fabulous post-graduate ideas but, one by one, they all fell through and I was left without the big flashy plan I had expected to have by then.

            Another thing I had not expected at graduation was the subsequent nine months of anxiety withdrawals (seriously), recovering from the years of constant stress and learning to live in a completely different way for the rest of my life. School was over and done, never to be repeated. It could be prolonged with grad school and an endless pursuit of degrees, but it did not change the fact that my quarter-life goal had been accomplished with three quarters of my life to spare. And this quarter of life was all I had ever known. I didn’t know how to operate any other way. I was hit by the limitless and unsafe realm of anything is possible, mulling over the question, “What do I do with the rest?”

            It took me a while to realize that I was struggling with more than a simple crisis of direction. I had lost my purpose. My structure was gone. For the first time in my life, I saw that, instead of turning to substance abuse and other obvious vices, I had made school and success my drugs of choice. Every passed test and completed course fed my sense of control that I never felt capable of in my home life.

            I realized a simple truth: I am no better than anyone else who turns to substance abuse or any other behavioral vice to cope with their pain and anger. It all involves turning to something besides God in an attempt to fix things on our own. I am guilty of being a success junkie and turning to school for my comfort and fulfillment.

            My behavior made me wonder how I could have claimed, over all this time, to truly trust in God. All the while growing up, and in college, I sang praises to the Lord about how I loved and trusted Him when, really, I had stopped laying certain parts of my life before Him years before because I did not trust Him with it. What does that say about my entire life, which I have supposedly devoted to my faith in Christ? Has our relationship really been shallow all along?       

            A flood of realization cascaded over me. My need for control had created an idol that dominated my life and took the place of the God I proclaimed to love and serve. After all, why stay faithful to the God who seemed to pass over me like a stranger on the street? I am invisible even to God. The lie had grown weeds with thick roots down into my heart and, unbeknownst to me, the time had come to uproot them.

            My long withdrawal period from my old life stung quite a bit and I really had no way of turning back to my addictive habits again. I went from such longstanding mental chaos to a comparatively extreme period of isolation, which was, in many ways, the most intense emotional loneliness I have ever known. My vulnerability forced me to the throne of Christ, where I could only be real with myself and with Him. Here, I realized and faced this subtle, yet engulfing, sin in my life.

            I understand now that even the most seemingly harmless things in life can hold the same poisonous traps that the enemy would use to pull us away from Christ. Traps that whisper lies to blur and distort our perception of His true nature. And it has taken all this time for me to grasp even this portion of the Truth, that God is not ignorant of me. He sees me and He loves me more than I can fathom.

             I know that God has a plan and purpose for my life. He created me to be the one to withstand this exact life that I live. I cannot compare the way God chooses to direct my life with the way He chooses to direct others.

            I know that God did not cause for things in my family to go haywire but He allowed them to happen for a good reason, which He will use to bring glory to Himself. For that, I am thankful.

            And for the first time since I was a child, as I continue to give up my need for control and wash my mind in Truth, in order to flush out my old and false way of thinking, I know that God sees me and that He is trustworthy above all others. I may feel unseen at times among my own kind, but no matter what I do or how I feel, I am not invisible to Him. Lord, please allow for me to see You clearly, as You see me.

“She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: ‘You are the God who sees me,' for she said, 'I have now seen the One who sees me.’” Genesis 16:13

The Fourth Man on the Shore

            My heart stopped and panic rose in my chest as I watched the water steadily seep into the boat. The waters were deep and I had never learned how to swim. I was all alone.

            The shore was within sight. So close it was almost ironic that I should die here now. Defeat and dread enveloped me as the reality set in that I had no other option. I felt like a child, a whimper and a scream rising in my throat.

            Death was imminent.

            A slight movement on the shore caught my attention. Three men sat next to each other in a line, lounging in beach chairs. There was a beach bag on the ground next to each man, all with a name sewn into the side. The names were large enough even for me to see. From left to right their names were: Optimism, Pride, and Laziness. They were facing me, but they didn’t seem at all concerned with my predicament. Did they not see me? They all wore sunglasses…maybe their eyes were closed?

            Nevertheless, desperate relief mobilized me. I gripped the edge of the boat and leaned forward as I called out to them.

            “Hello? Please! Please! Help me!”

            They all lifted their heads, but they made no other movement. After a moment, they raised their sunglasses from their sunscreen-covered noses with one hand, craning their necks and squinting through the sunlight to see me.

            Optimism asked calmly, “What can we do for you?”

            “My boat is sinking and I can’t swim! Please, help me!”

            They looked at each other with indifference and lowered their sunglasses back to their noses. Still, they did not move from their seats.

            Pride responded. “Of course.”

            “We’ll help you get to the shore,” said Laziness. “No problem.”

            I was stunned, their inactive manner increasing my anxiety. “Well, what are you doing? Are you going to come out here or what?”

            Optimism shook his head. “No need! We have something better for you.”

            The water rose above my ankles. Cowering away from my rising death, I spoke more to myself than to the men. “I seriously doubt that.”

            Optimism shouted across the water. “Alright, understand that you’re going to go down but you will not drown. You can reach the shore if you just think positively.”

            I looked up. “What?”

            “Yeah!” he said. “You have to envision yourself reaching the shore to make it happen. Your peaceful thoughts and good attitude will surely save you. Do this and you will find that you can swim after all.”

            I stared at him for the crazy man that I knew he was. “Really?” I said, skepticism dripping from my mouth.

            “Really! Take my encouragement to heart and you will see.”

            Pride scoffed. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

            He looked at me and called across the water. “It’s all about your physical ability. Kick your arms and legs. Put in all your strength and effort to do well. Your will power and active attempts will surely save you. Do this and you will find that you can swim after all. Follow my instructions and you will see.”

            His advice seemed a bit more practical. Very near rock solid. But I was still frightened. No one had ever shown me how to swim and I had certainly never attempted to do so by myself. I wasn’t sure that I could put it into practice so readily, especially from verbal instruction alone, and succeed.

            Laziness shook his head and said to me, “They’re both wrong! Don’t do anything. Just hold your breath and try to stay afloat. Wait for the tide to bring you in or for someone to come along and bring you back. Do this and you will find that you don’t need to swim after all. Take my advice and you will see.”

            Wow, he really is lazy, I thought, wearing a puzzled frown.

            It was then that the water finally overtook my boat and attention. My panic increased as my security slipped under the surface and sank beneath me. There was no time to think as the water washed over me. Under the surface, I wanted to scream, but I forced myself to hold my breath. I suddenly found myself ready and willing to try a piece of the advice I had just received.

            Positive thoughts, I heard in my head. Positive thoughts will save you.

            I squinted my eyes shut and gave it my best shot, trying to recall what I had often observed of meditation.

            Clear your mind. Think positively. Find the answers within yourself.

            I repeated these thoughts, but I only felt myself sink deeper and grow colder. The more I searched within myself, the more I realized that I was just digging further into a confused and frightened mess. Peace and knowledge could not be found because, within me, those answers did not exist. I found very quickly that I could not serve as my own source of strength and wisdom. I could not teach myself how to swim. Optimism could not and would not save me.

            In the brief moments it took me to make this discovery, my instinct to fight came out, which happened to follow the advice of Mr. Pride.

            Your efforts. Your efforts will save you.

            I could not deny that I believed in this method the most. Why shouldn’t my efforts save me? After all, I was the most determined and reliable ally. Who better to get the job done than myself?

            Kick your way up. Imitate what you have seen others do. You don’t need anyone else to save you. You can save yourself.

            I was encouraged as my body moved upward. My face broke the surface and air charged into my lungs once more. But the spark of enthusiasm sunk like a weight in my stomach and fought to pull me back under. It was all I could do to keep my head above the water. I kicked and I grasped. I fought and I pulled. I was wearing myself out and I was not going to last long. My efforts may have given me a breath, but I was still going to die. I may as well have just given up. Pride could not and would not save me.

            That was when I remembered the idea to hold my breath and try to stay afloat. I gasped for a large breath and attempted to brace for a full plunge back beneath. To my surprise, I managed to move in a way that brought my body to the surface. Holding my breath gave me a small amount of rest as I faced the heavens. Lying there seemed to be the answer. I could lie there forever, taking in a new breath any time I needed, to stay afloat until the slow tide or strange passerby could lead me to the shore.

            I waited and, though I was still tired, I struggled to make this idea work. Then it occurred to me…what if no one ever came along? What if the tide never brought me in? I turned my face and saw that I was far enough away that the tide would not necessarily bring me to shore in a timely manner or even at all. At this rate, I was sure to go hungry or thirsty. Maybe even resolve myself to exhaustion and allow myself to sink. Give up. I knew then that Laziness could not and would not save me.

            As I observed my distance from the shore, I saw the three men leaning back in their chairs, facing the sky with their sunglasses on. They had forgotten all about me. My confusion finally turned into anger. Were they really going to just let me die? Did they expect me to do this all by myself? My motivation returned and I felt the sudden urge to reach them, just to ask them what their problem was.

            I turned from my floating position and dropped heavily below the surface. I began to struggle and move again, kicking and reaching. Just in case, I tried to think positively, as well as how I would feel once I reached the shore. Yes, I was following the advice of the men to get me there, but I was sure I would feel much satisfaction knowing that it was my effort that saved my life.

            I put all my energy into this last attempt. I could do it. I knew I could.

            My perseverance made me last a little longer, but I saw that I was making no progress. I was only growing weaker and more panicked. The more I fought the water, the more I felt my hope shrink away. I knew this was the end.

            And yet…somehow, through all my grasping and groaning and gasping, I realized that there was a fourth figure on the shore. Another man. I hadn’t noticed him before or seen where he came from. He stood a couple hundred feet down the shore from the three lounging men, clearly not associated with them at all. He had no beach bag with a name, but he seemed familiar to me. I’m not sure how I could detect any details through all of my splashing, but I could see that his eyes were locked on me, his face full of distress for my well-being.

            “Daughter! Daughter!” the mysterious man cried.

            Daughter? I thought. But he did not wait for me to answer.

            The strange man quickly shed his outer robe and threw himself into the water. Every few strokes, he murmured loud enough for me to hear, “Daughter! Daughter!”

            He shot across the water in almost a blink of an eye and then he was there, right by my side. He took hold of my arms for support but paused to say the most peculiar thing. He asked, “Will you allow me to save you?”

            I still kicked out of instinct as I held onto him, but his question had distracted me. I blinked, dumbfounded. “What?”

            He did not seem irritated with me at all and he was not rude as he repeated his question. He spoke more firmly. “Will you allow me to save you?”

            I stared for another brief moment, searching his face for cruel deceit. Oddly enough, I detected sincerity instead and nodded. “Yes, of course! Please, save me!”

            And with that, he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me swiftly to the shore. I was amazed at how quickly my rescue occurred. My near-death experience was over in a flash, as though it never happened. When I felt the sand under my knees, I crawled several paces then paused in the surf, panting with my head hanging toward the ground.           
            His gentle voice lifted my eyes. “Come. Let’s get you covered up.”

            He held out his white robe for me. I hesitated, but his inviting smile enticed me. I gratefully moved into the robe, sorry to soil such a beautiful garment with myself, and pulled the soft and thick material close around me, still enjoying the free movement of air coming in and out of my lungs.

            When my breathing became regular again, I looked up and caught him staring at me. At first, this unnerved me. His entire character exuded such a vast sense of mystery which, in a bizarre way, struck me with a shock of sheer terror.

            But something about his demeanor contradicted my fear.

            It was then that I caught a glimpse of…profound tenderness in his features. Pure kindness gleamed from his eyes. Ardent love lined every detail of his face. I didn’t know exactly what to make of him, this rescuer of mine, but as I studied him, no matter how much of an enigma he was to me, I could see the genuine goodness in his smile.

            Ironically, I felt extremely safe with him. Safer than I had ever felt in my life. It was strange. The unlikely friendship between my sense of fear and security instigated a paradoxical sensation in me that I had never known before.

            He must have sensed my awe of him. He wrapped one arm around my shoulders and lifted his other hand to my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. His eyes glistened as he released a relieved sigh. “Daughter,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”

            I did not expect such a strong and sudden reaction but, almost the very moment these words came out of his mouth, I was crying. Uncontrollably. He pulled me in close and held me as I sobbed. Lamenting that I thought I could have possibly been strong enough to save myself. Coping with the reality that I just very nearly died. Thankful that I was so miraculously saved.

            My tears subsided and I pulled back to look up into his own tear-filled eyes.

            “Are you going to leave me now?” I whispered.

            “Ah…” he shook his head. “…never.”

            “Why did you ask to save me?”

            He gave me a sad smile. “I have the power to save anyone and I have pulled many from the dark waters. However, believe it or not, when given the opportunity to be saved, many have rejected me and, in their pride, they have perished. I always remain close as they struggle to stay afloat but many reject me for so long that I come back to the shore. I remain ready and willing to jump back in, waiting for them to change their hearts and minds. Some do and some do not. As a rule, I always ask. I am nothing if not polite.”

            “Why do you save at all?”

            This brought out a sweet smile. “Because I love you and I want you with me always. You are my daughter and you belong with me.”

            My throat grew thick as tears threatened to escape from my eyes again.

            “You love me,” I said, allowing the truth of these words to sink in. A sense of wonder rose in me as I felt his words ring true in my heart. “You love me. You saved my life and you love me!”

            I had been ready to cry again when, instead, bursts of laughter began to dance their way out of my chest. I had never felt so overjoyed! So radiant with delight and amazed with utter gratitude! This man had come for me when all others left me to die. I was alive, breathing, because of this love. A frenzy of hilarity ensued as the glory of his laughter joined mine.

            Right then, I knew that there was nothing I could do to repay him. Absolutely nothing. And yet, even though I knew that I could not earn his love or repay him for saving me, I still felt drawn to serve him, anyway that I could. He saved my life! With all the joy and gratitude flowing from me, I was desperate to show him my devotion. My life, then, was all I had to give. It belonged to him now. I belonged to him now.

            Him and him alone.

            “Please!” I said, taking hold of his arms. “Tell me what I can do for you, my Lord. Anything! Anything at all!”

            He gave me an adoring smile, stroking my cheek again. He knew I was not trying to repay him but that I simply loved him and wanted a way to express it.

            “This is what you may do. Be my daughter. Let me love you and keep you with me always. Love me in return, trust me because I will take care of you, and obey my word, even when things are difficult. Will you let me love you and will you love me back? Will you trust and obey me? And will you continue to remain faithful and walk with me even when you fail to do these things at times?”

            I nodded as I made my sober oath. “Yes.”

            He smiled his brightest smile. “Are you ready then?”

            “Yes,” I grinned.

            He stood and held out his scarred hands to help me up. I stared at the scars for a moment before I took his hands. As I stood, I looked back and noticed the three men still sitting in their beach chairs.

            “Why didn’t they save me?”

            He shook his head. “They don’t know how to swim either.”

            I looked back at them and pondered this for a moment. I wondered why I had assumed that they would help me. Just because they were sitting on the beach, I supposed. They had seemed to be the ones with all the answers.

            I realized then that, even if I had been able to reach those men on the shore, I would have felt no love or gratitude toward them as I felt toward my rescuer beside me. They would have never sought a relationship with me, let alone call me a daughter. I surely would have felt compelled to repay them for their advice but any service performed on my part would have been out of duty alone. There would have been no emotional attachment to them, only a sense of legalism, following their rules out of obligation to repay the pesky debt of owing them my life.

            Those men, whose names were Optimism, Pride, and Laziness, were empty shells who could not and would not save me. They had expected me to come to them, but a child cannot be thrown into deep waters and taught how to swim with encouragement and instruction hurled out to them. This would lead to certain death.

            My rescuer was the only one who actually put forth the effort to come out and get me himself. He did not hesitate and he did not falter. He brought me to himself, to save me when I could not ever save myself. With him, I now had truth, love, and the promise of forever as a daughter. I felt sorry for others who would call upon these men for help and I determined to warn whoever I could. To introduce them to my rescuer, the only one who could save them and who was polite enough to ask.

            I turned to my love and returned his smile. Without a word, we turned away from the empty men and started down the beach in the opposite direction. My rescuer took my hand and I, still wrapped in his beautiful robe, followed with pleasure.

Story by Allison Hall

                                         

Excuses

Now, I know I have seriously neglected my writing lately, but I just realized that I have only posted one blog in the last three months. To be fair, I started a new job and spent a good deal of that time writing a couple of devotionals for a book. But then, there is always an excuse, isn’t there?

Whenever I take on a serious commitment, such as a new job, the passions of my life inevitably take a back seat. My family and friends, my writing and music, and most importantly, my relationship with Jesus. Despite all of my “good reasons” to save those things for another day, I know that some sacrifices are inexcusable.

There will always be something to steal my time and attention. There will always be a reason why I cannot devote myself to the people and things that I love. There will always be an excuse for allowing laziness to take hold of my life.

Therein lies the challenge; determining to make those things a priority in my life. To fight for the time and pray for the focus I need, regardless of the challenges that come up to block my way. I can fill my time with just about any project and, with plenty of logic, anything can be made important enough to supersede the essentials.

But where will that leave me in the end?

Dry and empty, wondering where the years have gone, where my life went. I don’t want to waste my life. I don’t want to lose the precious moments I have to do what I want to do. I don’t want to miss the opportunities I get to say what I want to say. What He wants me to do. What He wants me to say.

I have missed going the extra mile for time with my loved ones. I have missed writing. I have missed my music. I have missed my Jesus.

Spring Break has been a breath of fresh air for me. A merciful gasp, really, to take with me before another deep plunge back into the waters of the work world. Not to say that my job is a dreaded foe. I love my job! The challenge for me is the temptation to throw myself too much into my work. Over the break, I’ve had the chance to seek and savor Him more than I have in a long time, to see Him in a deeper way. And it has been…many things. Precious. Sobering. Romantic.

I know I will be slammed with challenges, literally, the moment I go back to work. Will I fall back into the way it was before? I’m sure I will stumble quite a bit, but I’m ready to make the time for the things that are important to me. I’m ready for faithful dedication to my loved ones, disciplined progress to my God-given dreams, and ardent devotion to my Lover and King. I’m ready.

And after all that we've been through,
And after all we left in pieces,
I still believe our lives have just begun.
‘Cause now the past can be outrun,
And I know You are the reason.
I still believe the best is yet to come.

-Best is Yet to Come by Red

Accents

            I have had a theory for a while. Maybe it requires a little more research than I have done but, as an English Major, I think it is a logical thing to question.

            Have you ever noticed how, in movies, there is a character who is “obviously” American by their American accent, but later in the story they turn out to be, say, a Russian spy? When the protagonist makes this discovery, the spy removes all pretenses and reverts back to speaking English with a Russian accent.

            My question is: if this spy went through all the education and possible speech therapy needed to speak English without a hint of their Russian accent, basically improving their English skills, why would they revert back to their earlier English skills as if they never undertook the endeavor of eliminating their accent?

            Here’s my reasoning. When I learned Spanish in high school, I most definitely had an accent and I’m sure I still do whenever I try to speak Spanish. If I took more classes and spent all the hours necessary to improve my skills and eliminate my American accent, then I would speak the most improved version I learned every time. If someone found out I was really an American, other than by my obvious American looks, would I really keep speaking Spanish but revert back to the earlier version I spoke with the American accent? I would know the correct way of pronouncing the phrase “Hablo espanol,” but, instead, would say, “Yow a-blow es-pan-yol.” I find it hard to believe that I would ignore the skills I accumulated in Advanced Spanish and revert back to my Elementary Spanish skills.

            In addition, I spoke about this with another English Major friend of mine, who studied abroad in Spain and is very much more advanced in learning and speaking a foreign language than I am. He said he could totally see my point, followed by a very interesting discussion on the topic. Can you say, “English nerds”?

            Different languages contain different phonetic sounds. For example, some languages do not contain the “th” sound, which is common in the English language, and speakers of other languages, who have not learned and mastered the pronunciation of that sound, may compensate with the “z” or “s” sounds. “Ze sought of valking in ze dark frightens me.” That is a very rough and basic example.

            It may involve more research but, to us, it really does not make sense, realistically, for someone to revert back to their earlier stages of linguistic development. Granted, we are talking about movies here. It is all done for effect and accuracy usually has nothing to do with entertainment. However, although this idea intrigues me, it bothers me and, as the title of this blog states, I am strange and I just had to write something about it.

Happy and Heartbroken

How is it possible to be so happy and heartbroken at the same time? How is it possible to cry with joy and thankfulness while wanting to cry over pain and difficult questions simultaneously? I don’t know how, but I feel the pull of both at once. There are so many blessings showering into my life right now, but there are so many other things going on around me that render me grieving.

An overwhelming amount of changes that I am afraid of are occurring, yet there are so many changes I am excited about. (I have always struggled over worrying about the future, probably something I will struggle with until the day I die.) This may sound oxymoronic but, although I am not traditional, I love traditions. I do things out of the ordinary, but I prefer consistency in some ways. I want something to rely on, something special to see and savor. I know that Christ is the only thing I can rely on, but I still have such a hard time dealing with change.

I miss the way my family used to go about the holidays. Those traditions have changed since my grandpas have both passed away and relatives my age are mostly married, starting their own families and even moving away. I miss the relationships I used to have with my friends. Those relationships are different now. Since graduation last spring, we have all spread out and we can’t just stop by and see each other the way we used to. Other friends are in relationships, engaged, married, having kids, moving, becoming different people. Overall, there is growing apart taking place.

In addition to the general change of life, there is the suffering of others around me that is burdening my heart. Family and friends struggling with or losing their jobs, husbands going to the hospital for heart problems, an adoption being reversed on a couple who fell in love with a child. I am definitely a fixer. I want to do something to make things the way I think they should be. To serve justice, according to me. But I am not the authority and I am not the Holy One who can make a perfect judgment. It is not within my control to fix everything for everyone. That is a humbling thought and certainly a difficult desire to harness.

Finally, there is the spiritual struggle of others around me. People I know who are so lost, empty and without hope. All I can do is point them to the One who comforts and fills me, knowing that, aside from prayer and offering my shoulder to cry on, there is really nothing I can personally do for them. (Again, with the fixing…) Children who have never heard of Jesus or, if they have, they think that He is dead, not knowing that He is their God, their Creator, their Father. That He is alive and He loves them. That He is with them and they don’t need to be afraid of falling asleep alone or dying. Trying to share that hope, but met with the inability to understand and discouraged by the continuation of that spiritual void.

And yet, despite all this, I am so excited about life and the opportunities that the Lord is opening up for me. Not so I can find success, wealth and comfort, but so I can be a blessing in the lives of others, bring Him glory in all that I do and allow Him to accomplish His will for my life. I am so happy about the refining and healing process He is putting me through, even though it is painful, so I can be who He wants me to be. I am so thankful for the answered prayers and the people He is putting into my life, right when I need them, so that I can see how He cares and provides for me, always.

Nothing is certain now, as far as the opportunities go, but He is leading me down a path that I know has been secured and blessed by Him. The refining and healing will surely be accomplished as I daily surrender myself and allow Him to shape and mold me like clay. And I must have faithfulness, relying on Him alone to supply all of my needs.

I rejoice in how amazing and merciful my God is for every moment that He loves me, for all of His unearned blessings and for never giving up on me. And I choose to trust Him with all of the things that are grieving my spirit because He is the Lord over all that burdens a human heart.