Romanced

As you may have read in my last post, I am reading the book Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge. I just finished the chapter called "Romanced." Not surprisingly, it was all about how God romances us.

Oh, how I have been longing for this! While the book talked about it as if it were a new concept to the reader (and for me it is not--I have long considered Jesus my Lover in very real ways), it still struck a chord with me. It was exactly what I have been needing to read.

Recently single, I have been deeply missing the intimacy that comes with being in a relationship, and it has left me longing for another one (even though in my head I know it is way too soon to start thinking about that again).

In theory, I know my priorities. I know that there is only One who can love me adequately, only One who will ever know my soul more intimately than even I know it myself. I know that no one can take his place.

So why do I look? Why do I, like Hosea's wife, chase lover after lover? Why do I turn to mere men to fulfill my heart's deepest desire? Why do I trust that a man can do what only God can do?

I am trying to find the balance between allowing myself to feel the normal longing for an earthly romance while not becoming preoccupied with it. I am trying to find my satisfaction in the Lord. And it's hard.

Putting forth the effort is something I have failed in. Like a woman who demands that her lover romance her constantly and berates him should he spend a single moment inattentive to her (of course she doing nothing for him; "I should be treated like a queen!"), I am waiting for God to show up in my life and romance me without my pursuing him very much at all. I am sure that he, being God of all, will never tire of showing me affection, but there is much more of a limit on how much of that affection I experience well if I am only taking, never giving. A relationship is two-sided.

As I was reading the chapter, a beautiful thunderstorm was raging outside. The sun was low in the sky, casting a gold light onto the wet street in front of my house. I watched it for a while. I felt romanced.

The sermon this morning was about Joseph and Potiphar's wife. The story goes that Potiphar's wife sees how handsome and strong Joseph is and wants to sleep with him, but he continually denies her. The pastor pointed out that no normal man would be able to do this. The only difference between men who do sleep with women and men who don't is opportunity. So how did Joseph resist? How did he flee her persistent allure? 

By loving God more. It was not obedience that would have given him such discipline; obedience alone would have collapsed under the pressure. It was loving God more.

It was by playing a more beautiful song that sailors were able to escape the allure of the sirens.

The author of Captivating said something very similar. (Think God is trying to nail something down with me today??) It pointed out that martyrs do not follow Christ even to death because of mere obedience. How could they? It is because of their fiery love for him that they are so devoted.

This is what I long for!

By the end of the chapter, an old feeling I have not felt in a while came over me: I am so in love with Jesus, that even the best relationship with a man seems pale and dull. I am so in love with Jesus that I do not want to be distracted from him by being in a relationship!

It's an odd and admittedly rare feeling, but I cling to it.

I used to go on regular "dates" with Jesus, but it's been a while. I feel like I missed my opportunity today (I will go tomorrow), but I think Sundays after church will be a good day to make that a regular habit again. I want to indulge in this relationship. I want to play an active role again. I encourage you to do the same. I do not expect to be disappointed.

God bless.

Fixated

She is the gem on its tip.
She hums a melody never before heard,
Never to be heard again.

Her eyes are the shape of cats' eyes
But softer around the edges
and framed with ravens' feathers.
Their coloring is grayish-green
And maybe a streak of blue.
They speak of mysteries and wisdom,
Depth and quietude,
And a paradox: a peaceful restlessness.

A slender neck supports a fiercely
Feminine jaw
On which sits her lips:
Bright, plump, and alive,
Beckoning.

Light brown hair encircles
A smooth, tanning forehead,
Curling around the ears,
slightly tousled.
Dark arched eyebrows
Unveil character and youth.

And her nose,
The symmetry of all of it,
Is plain and uninteresting.
It neither takes away nor adds anything.
But all is well with this;
All the more can the observer
Focus on the lovelier bits.

Straight, white smiles
Cause the corners of her eyes
To crinkle.

Her slightly pointed chin
Points to a slightly curved collarbone
Which is formed like a smooth
Piece of polished wood.

Follow the arms to the hands and there
Will be found one of the loveliest:
Long, slender fingers.
Their every movement is a dance.
A dark freckle above a knuckle.

In modesty, the rest remains secret.
Her body is a pearl, and it waits.
But be assured
That little disappointment
Is to be found there.

She looks in the mirror.
Alone, with no one but herself and her Maker
to admire the creation before her.
She winks,
She laughs,
And she delights
In only herself
And her only Admirer.


I wrote this poem after reading the first chapter of the book Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge, which, in part, talked about a woman's desire to unveil beauty. It's true! I love to feel beautiful and I know that I am beautiful. I also love to unveil beauty via poetry.

This poem is about me. I have described myself. Perhaps it is vain; I don't know. But (at the risk of sounding cliché), I love the skin I'm in! I love the body suit that God has given me as a home for my soul. I truly wish that every woman would be able to write a poem like this about herself. It is right that a woman's desire to be celebrated for her beauty is fulfilled.

I am single and, as you may have read in my last post, alone much of the time. When I feel beautiful, I have to rely on God to be the one to admire me. And he does. And he also gives me the pleasure of having my own beauty revealed to me as well, so that I may enjoy the feeling of knowing I look lovely.

I hope that you, too, will be able to see yourself in this way. Our Lord is good. As we used to say at camp, "God don't make no junk."


God bless.

Pseudo-life

Rarely do I talk about my own life on this blog, but I feel like this week has been so quiet and bizarre that it's worth semi-briefly noting.

I moved into my very first big-girl place: a duplex only a few blocks away from where I went to college. It's a charming little house with three floors plus a basement, twisting staircases, and a nice front porch. The third floor was recently renovated by our landlord and still smells like fresh, light yellow paint. It feels strange filling its rooms with my own junk.

Basically, this week has consisted of gathering all my junk that I've accumulated in the last 20+ years of living, packing it all into two vehicles, and then trying to unpack it all again. The unpacking part has been a slow process. I still have bags of who-knows-what on my bedroom floor. At least half the battle is simply figuring out where I want to put it all. You all have moved before. You know.

Then there's been the job-searching. So far I have had one interview and have another one scheduled for Monday. I've been applying online for jobs that I know little to nothing about. Upload resume, submit. Upload resume, submit. I'm hoping I'll soon be able to confidently pay my bills.

Figuring out how to be a grown-up really isn't that hard. I've been weaned into it pretty well. Although I lived in dorm rooms for all four years of college, I figured out how to take care of myself and make my own schedule. The last two summers I have lived in an apartment in Alaska, where I was there short-term and only brought a suitcase's and a backpack's worth of stuff with me (and thus didn't have to "settle in"), but I still learned how to grocery shop, feed myself, and spontaneously clean as opposed to needing to be told by my parents.

And now, here I am. Not much different except now I have to find a full-time job instead of going to class, and I have to be financially independent. Not that hard, right? I'm only a few days in, so we'll see. Grown-up life should be a cinch.

But the social situation has also been weird. As of right now, my roommates and I are on radically different schedules, so I rarely see the one, and the other is out of town for a month. Fortunately I'm friends with my next-door neighbors, and Amy lives just a few blocks away, but I'm still alone the majority of the time, which I'm not used to anymore.

So I've been lonely and bored. I'll organize while listening to music upstairs in my attic/bedroom. I'll sit on the couch and apply for jobs online. I'll go grocery shopping, but that only takes like an hour. I'll eat at random times instead of having real meals. I've finished a book and started another. I've spent a lot of time on Pinterest. (Like, a lot.) I've daydreamed.

I've racked my brain for people I could hang out with without sounding like a needy attention-hog. I've Facebooked and texted to get my social needs met. Whenever my roommate's path has crossed mine, I've followed her around pathetically, trying awkwardly and desperately to make conversation, when all she wants to do is have some alone time after work.

So, life feels kind of bizarre for me right now. Transition is weird. But I have an interview on Monday, so. Maybe real grown-up life will ensue soon. Right now I think I'm still in the pseudo-stages. The unending weekend where I still have to be productive.

Thanks for reading.


God bless.

Lukewarm

It's funny, almost bizarre, sometimes, the way God works.

Here is the order of events that occurred to me this evening:

1) I got on Facebook because I was bored.

2) On Facebook I saw a link to an article about why, "scientifically," one should date someone who reads. I read the article and it made me want to read a book.

3) I picked up my book I've been working my way through called "Tortured for Christ" by Richard Wurmbrand. It is a quick and intellectually easy read, but psychologically and spiritually very difficult and convicting. I am only about 2/3 through.

4) After deciding it was time for bed, I lied there reflecting in prayer about what I had just read. Most of it was describing how the horrors of Communism goes unnoticed and ignored by the lukewarm Church in the West, while zealous Christians give their lives for their Savior in Communist nations.

5) I prayed that I would be enabled do something. I inadvertently started "writing" in my head, so here I am, blogging away half an hour before midnight. I didn't want to lose my words by waiting until tomorrow.


I wish I could explain why I am so troubled, but only Richard Wurmbrand and the Holy Spirit can move in the minds and hearts (respectively) of people in this particular way, I think.

He's right. The "civilized" West is a decaying world. The United States houses a lukewarm church. I have seen evidence of this, as well as evidence to the contrary. I have lived barely more than 20 years, barely leaving my home country or even my home state, but here is what I have seen.

I have seen my parents teaching their children how to have a relationship with Christ from the earliest age. I have seen those same parents pray and read the Bible with their children as well as support their mission work.

I have seen the church I grew up in, consisting mostly of elderly folks, pray and study diligently, treating each other with kindness, praying with one another, helping each other through tough times, send out missionaries, and live out their faith quietly in their respective lives.

I have seen the first church I attended regularly in college slip into a habit of refusing to "convert" people at the risk of being un-accepting, downplaying the Gospel, discussing theology and philosophy over beer rather than concerning ourselves with the sins of its members. It was a museum of culture, art, and theology, as well as vaguely spiritual souls. This same church, however, feeds the homeless and shows love to all who walk through its doors. I love this church but they are guilty of what St. Francis considered a virtue: "Speak the Gospel at all times. When necessary, use words." Apparently it is not often necessary to speak the Gospel with words.

I have attended another church where the Gospel is boldly proclaimed not on a weekly basis, but on a daily one, where the number of members has skyrocketed from a few to over a thousand in only five years because of its potency and love for the Gospel of Jesus Christ. No church is without its flaws but I do not think this church would need to change much even if America became a Communist nation. The Gospel would be proclaimed there all the more loudly.

I have worked at a Christian summer camp that (perhaps unknowingly) hired atheists and universalists, people living sinful, double lives, to teach Bible study to children. At this same camp I have found people madly in love with Jesus and with a great passion for his little children to know him.

I have sat through worship services, bored and angry that I got the impression that no true worshiping was happening at all.

I have sat through other worship services where I wept and sang with all my heart, or danced with joy, along with many others.

I have never been anyplace where my Christian faith was illegal, yet I have often failed to share the Gospel when I should have.

I have led one or two people to Christ almost inadvertently, but have wished and tried and prayed more than anything that others would come to know Christ and yet have been unsuccessful.

I have failed to read my Bible daily or to pray for the persecuted.

Instead, I concern myself with trite issues such as daydreaming about whom I might someday marry, or wondering when I will do my laundry, or checking Facebook.

Although I have never literally renounced my Jesus, I have renounced him by remaining silent many, many times.


And what shall I do? How will I end my lukewarm attitude and the lukewarm attitude of the American church? How will I care for the martyrs of this world? How will I myself by a martyr, even if I stay in my own country? How will I learn to love my neighbors around the world (and actually do it)?

I ask that you ask these same questions along with me. If you do not feel convicted (you very well may not, as I am pretty much just ranting until my cranial juices run out for the night), I would highly encourage you to "Tortured for Christ."


God bless.

Baseless

Can't sleep, want to write, you're welcome.

Today's prompt for the day (yesterday by the time this gets published) from 365 Days of Writing Prompts reads:

Rolling stone
If you could live a nomadic life, would you? Where would
you go? How would you decide? What would life be like
without a “home base”?

My answer to this is... well... no. The biggest reason I would not choose this life is for purpose of community. I need good community to thrive, and that simply can't happen when I never allow myself to rooten. (I just made up that word. I hate made-up words. But that should be a real word.)

The other thing holding me back is that I'm a young, single woman and I highly doubt such a lifestyle would be safe for me. However, for the sake of this post, let's pretend that's not a thing.

Also money. Let's pretend that's also not a problem.

But, if not for these things, I would totally live the nomad's life.

At this point I would probably settle for living out of my car. I would drive around the country, no, continent, and find remote places to set up camp. I would cook my meals over fires and sing into the night sky. I would hike, live off the land and off the grid. I would make friends with the locals in random small towns and come back to the same spots every few years to catch up. The open road would be my sweet, sweet home.

But I suppose, as I aged, living out of a car would prove to be insufficient. I would then opt for a "tiny" house, which can be basically a trailer, built modestly, efficiently, and uniquely. This would also be a good option for if/when I got married. Because they're mobile, you can still take them just about anywhere. It's like a camper--but more like a home on wheels.

This type of living appeals to my love of nature, restless spirit (which may only last as long as I am young), my fantasy of a minimalist lifestyle, and the environmental and economic benefits associated with it. 

Of course, I have my doubts that this dream would ever come to fruition, but I'm still glad you asked.

God bless.