Land

I grew up in a world (the city/suburbs) where land is malleable. It is controllable. It bends to human whim.

Flowers only grow where they are planted, and the only thing that will allow anything else to appear there is neglect. Need to build a house with a basement? Make a hole in the ground. Need to build an exit ramp for the overpass? Putting up a nice slope will do the trick. A hill got in the way of your road? Blast right through it, and put fencing on the rocks to keep them from avalanching down onto traversing vehicles.

No stone goes untouched from human hands. Even "wilderness" is only there because we have allowed it to stay, and it ends in a straight line where the corn fields must begin. Our fingerprints are on every piece of earth.

There really is nothing wrong with all of this. Civilization must progress. Cities must grow with the population. Farmland is crucial. For the majority of my life, this is all I've ever known.

In 2013 I experienced something much different, something much more powerful and mighty and ominous: the power of the land.

I left my concrete world and entered one of mud and trees. I saw snow-covered mountains for the first time. I saw a glacier. I saw the land in a much, much different way.

For the first time, I saw how humans must yield to the land rather than the other way around. There is no road going in or out of Juneau; the only way is ferry or plane. Why? Because the mountains, ice fields, and ocean get in the way. A road simply cannot be built. No major cuts were made in the rocks for highways to plow through. Houses were built on mountainsides rather than nice, flat neighborhoods. The only way up a mountain was the most natural, primitive way: on foot.

If someone didn't like that mountain there, there was nothing they could do about it. It's not going anywhere. Neither is the glacier. Or the ocean. Or the bears. Or even the trees. You can chop one down, but the mountains are positively carpeted with them, and no machinery could even begin to sift through them.

Because of this massive power of the land, the locals have a much different attitude toward the land than I am used to. That summer, the city decided to build a round-about right between the docks at Auke Bay and the university. It made sense, as the fork in the road that existed was over-trafficked. But in order to move forward with construction, a tree in the fork had to be removed. I remember my bus driver fussing about that, and he was among many of the locals who were upset. This tree had no particular sentimental meaning that I'm aware of, but the idea of unnecessary killing a tree was quite upsetting to them, even though they had innumerable others! They respected and wished to preserve the land.

This is one thing I greatly miss about that place. I miss simply facing the awe-inspiring power of the land beside my powerlessness on a daily basis.

Recently I have noticed some degree of the power of land here in my home, state, however. My grandparents' house is crumbling before their eyes due to erosion, despite many hired attempts to "fix" it. I didn't even know until today that I live on a fault line, making the destruction of earthquakes feasible. And although they can blast a hole in a hill to make way for a highway, they can't move that hill or flatten it. Besides, the weather is uncontrollable everywhere in the world. We are at its mercy.

The devastation that land can bring, with all its might, is horrifying. Why do I love it so much? Why don't I grasp for control?

I suppose it's because I know that God is the only one who can protect me from himself.

God's wrath is absolutely necessary, but when we trust in him, he shields us from it. God's might does not terrify me, it delights me. Of course, I am (almost) speaking metaphorically in comparing him to the land. After all, the earth is simply a manifestation of this attribute of his.

I intend to dance among the trees that cannot be moved.

God bless.

Anticipation

On one hand, I can handle anticipation. I actually like it. Growing up, kids my age would brag about being able to unwrap presents to peak at their Christmas presents and wrap them back up without their parents knowing, but I never understood the logic of that. Why ruin the surprise? Some families let their kids open one present on Christmas Eve, but that also felt like cheating to me. When I got older and my parents put out "Santa's" presents before I was even in bed on Christmas Eve, I always diverted my eyes so as not to ruin anything for the next morning. The waiting was worth it.

Anticipation builds affection. It makes you excited for what is to come. I heard someone say something along those lines when referring to pregnancy. During the nine months of gestation, a woman is falling more in love with the child she has yet to meet. I hope that someday I can experience this as well. It will be like Christmas.

But for some reason, I do not delight in anticipation that has no end date. The second coming of Christ... I have ants in my pants, as opposed to the first coming of Christ, which rolls around on December 25th every year. It's something I can count down to. 

Another one: getting married. If I ever get married (Lord willing!), it sure won't be tomorrow or the next day, or anytime in the foreseeable future. That's not a joyful anticipation I have. It's an irritated one. I want to be able to count down, darnit! I want to know when this "husband" will come waltzing into my life so that I can plan accordingly. I want to know if I even have anything to look forward to.

Thus, here is a question that I don't have the answer to. How do I wait for things without a due date in joyful anticipation and excitement, the way I do for things with a due date?

If you have the answer, let me know.

God bless.

Radical

A week ago, I went to a women's Christmas brunch and book exchange at my church. The book exchange was set up white elephant-style, so when your number came, you could either pick one of the wrapped books from the table, or steal an unwrapped book from somebody. I was number 5 of about 50, but number 4 got a book I had seen in the bookstore about six months ago and really wanted: Wild by Cheryl Strayed.  I unabashedly stole it from her.

Then it got stolen from me.

I didn't steal any more books in the game, but I kept getting them stolen from me, so I had to keep going up and unwrapping new ones. I unwrapped a paleo cook book, an old novel that didn't really pique my interest, and finally, at almost the very end of the game, ended up with a book I had never heard of called Under the Overpass by Mike Yankoski. It's a book about two men who, feeling convicted about how their faith in God would stand if they didn't have their lives handed to them on a silver platter anymore, became intentionally homeless for a period of time. I was really excited about it.

This week has been a busy one, and I've only managed to get one chapter into the book. But I love it already.

I just took a picture of the line, "Perhaps you, too, have felt a nudging toward a life on the edge--some place or task in your life where, as Frederick Buechner put it, 'God's great mercy and the world's great hunger meet,'" and texted it to my accomplice, Lexi.

Although I have never considered a intentional homelessness (that is to say, I have never felt convicted to take it up), I have always dreamed of nobly living an off-beat lifestyle. I have brain-stormed ways to make my life different in a good way, regardless of whether others see it as a "good way." I want to live a life worth writing about.

~~~

In the summer of 2013, I managed to take a leap of faith and went on a mission trip to Juneau, Alaska. I had the time of my life and left figuring it was goodbye for a long time, if not forever. But in the summer of 2014, I found myself there yet again.

I realized I had fallen deeply and madly in love. With the land, mostly. With God and the way he made himself known to me there. Saying goodbye the second time was on the verge of heart-breaking. I took a lot of photos of the town and surrounding land from the airplane window.

I came home and moved into a lovely little house surrounded on four sides by other lovely little houses only a few blocks away from where I went to college. I found an awfully stressful, but beautiful job helping people with severe mental illnesses. I started sinking my toes into the mud of my city and my church. I tried to cultivate my love for the town and life I was living in. And God helped me to do so.

Still, there was one little pocket of the planet that I was unable to shake out of my head.

After deciding with Lexi that we were going back up there to live, I told her I felt like we needed a vision. Were were going just for fun, to get our kicks? Or were were going to live to a higher purpose? What would that higher purpose be? Neither of us really knew.

Radical lifestyles are not easy to come by. Choosing homelessness is not an option for me if simply for the fact that I am a woman and therefore would be much, much more vulnerable on the streets. Long-term mission work is not anything I feel compelled to do anymore as, although I believe it is good for certain people to live this way, I do not want to rely on others' charity as my sole source of income. I do not have the cultural training, language skills, or rigor to go very far beyond English-speaking countries (yet). I also have to work with the fact that I am unmarried: a blessing because I have more freedom to go where I choose and when; a curse because I do not have a built-in, like-minded accomplice.

But what is so radical about a simple move? When I tell people I'm going, people react by saying how cool/exciting it is. Some people ask me what my motives are. A lot of people ask me if it gets really dark there. But no one looks at me like I'm crazy, which indicates to me that I am not living radically enough.

But that is a lie. I think I found my radical vision. It's just not a very obvious one to the naked eye. My life in the 49th state will probably not look drastically different than the life I'm living now. I will rent a cute little apartment or house. I will invest in a church. I will live with roommates. I will go to work every day. I will go to the grocery store.

But it will be different. I will not be risking my finances; I will be risking my sanity. I will be entering a world where, for six months out of the year, utter darkness will consume more than its fair share of the hours of the day. I will be entering a world where, according to CBS News, Alaska has the highest suicide rate out of the 50 United States. I will be entering a world where depression and alcoholism run rampant. Homeless rates are more than 2.5 times what they are in my home state. I will be dealing with these problems on a daily basis, assuming I find a job similar to what I am doing now.

I will not be getting down and dirty with those in poverty in third-world countries. I will not literally be in the trenches. But I will be figuratively huddling in the dark, in the cold mud, with the emotionally and mentally needy. I will risk a lot in terms of my own mental and emotional state. I will probably cry even more than I do now over the brokenness of the world. But that is the radical life I want. Besides, I will not be alone. I will have my companionship in Lexi, any other roommates I may have, my church, etc.

The beauty of it is that I will continue to see lives restored as I am now. And every day I will walk out of my front door and see snow-capped mountains, towering evergreens, misty gray fog, sunrises and sunsets, stars more plentiful than I ever dreamed or imagined, and for the first time in my life, the green dance of the northern lights.

So I think I'll love it. I think God will sustain my mind and hope.

Pray for me as I embark on a journey of a lifetime. I don't know how long I'll be gone and I certainly don't know what the outcome will be. I don't know if I can anticipate how my heart will break and swell.

But, for now, this is what I choose.


God bless.

Not Knowing

If you haven't noticed, my blog has turned into me basically talking about what my brain has been doing lately.

My failure to write is not due to a lack of thoughts. Quite the contrary. Rather, my thoughts/inner struggles have been consistently been turning back to "I don't even know."

And that's nothing to write a post about. I can't say, "I was thinking about ______ but IDK???"

So, sorry. Turns out I don't have all the answers.

God bless.

Date Your Friends

I don't mean "date your friends" as in choose only significant others that started as a friends (not that that is a bad thing). I mean make your friends a priority in your life and spend time with them.

This post is inspired by my fairly new friend Sarah who had dinner at my house for the first time tonight. While we talked about this subject, "dating" friends, I think the event itself it fits the topic. We sat around my dining room table for not quite, but almost, four hours, chatting about a variety of things and getting to know each other better. Having a few deep, intimate moments and some moments of laughter, some anecdotes, some dreams about the future. Like dating... but friends.

How many marriage advice columns have you read that could be applied to virtually any meaningful relationship?
"Forgiveness is key"
"Laugh together"
"Communicate well"
"Say you're sorry"
"Make time together a priority"

We have glorified romantic relationships and diminished friendships. We have made true love life's greatest goal and we have emotionally assaulted the single people of this world, shunning their utter failure to conform. But romantic relationships are not the greatest good. Neither are friendships, I suppose, but they're worth a lot more than I think we give them credit for.

It's time we dated our friends.

Next time you read a list of "50 creative/fun/cheap things to do with your S.O.," read it instead as "50 creative/fun/cheap things to do with one or many of your friends."

Get to know your bros and gal pals intimately. Care for them. Invest in them. Be intentional.

I invite you to do pursue such a habit (lifestyle, even) alongside me. Chasing after what I think I want has gotten me nowhere, and it's time for a change.

Me being passionate with Kiley

God bless.

Addendum to: Impossible Dreams

Since I posted "Impossible Dreams" mere hours ago, I have been unsettled. I think I know exactly why.

I imagine many of you reading it and wondering why God has not made your dreams come true. I imagine many of you re-facing terrible wounds and scars from unanswered prayers. I imagine you becoming infuriated with me because I have told you that God will grant you something that he hasn't and won't. I imagine you doubting his goodness and love.

I'm sorry if this is the case. I want to clarify.

Believe me when I say that I know what unanswered dreams are. I am not old; I have not gained much wisdom or life experience. But already I have suffered intolerable pain. Here is one example.

I dated a fellow a few years ago. He was the only boyfriend I had that my parents really didn't like, but I loved him so fiercely. I was much, much more in love with him than any other man I have encountered before or since then. Now, I am of the belief that Jesus saves those who accept the salvation he offers. As for the rest, those who reject him and his salvation... well, I believe in Hell, too. And this particular man completely rejected even the existence of God let alone his love and salvation. Maybe you can imagine my heartbreak, maybe not.

I cried out to God on his behalf. I wept for hours (not hours total, but hours at a time), begging God to bring life to this man's dead soul.

And as far as I know, God has not answered my prayer.

I have spent over two years picking up the pieces of my heart.


I prayed that God would give me a meaningful job after graduation, and that he certainly answered. But my job also consists of walking through intense darkness with my clients suffering from severe mental illnesses. It's a heavy weight, and whether I'm clocked in or out, I can feel the cloud hanging over my head. After my pastor preached on depression this morning, mascara streamed down my face for the remainder of the service.

So despite my post earlier today, my life is not entirely peachy.

I don't know why God does this. I don't know how he picks and chooses dreams to grant and dreams to deny. His goodness is prevailing; I can trust him with that. I can believe it in my head even if I cannot understand the reason why.

I don't know why some people suffer with mental illness their whole lives. I don't know why there is such a thing as the "cycle of poverty." I don't know why crimes are committed against the innocent. I don't know why you're still not married or why you still haven't been able to have children. I don't know why you're in a job you hate. I don't know why your closest loved one is dead or dying.

But God is still good. Please hear me! Jesus himself despaired; he felt the pain you feel. He is the only balm for your soul. If you cannot have faith in impossible dreams, remember that this life is temporary; the days of your pain are numbered. Hope in Christ, hope in Christ, hope in Christ. Through him, joy is coming. That is a promise.


God bless.

Disclaimer: Some of the ideas I just wrote about are from straight out of my pastor's sermon which will be available to listen to later this week on veritascolumbus.com.

Impossible Dreams

When I was a little girl, I told my mom that something I wanted to do before I died was to see a firework from above. I don't know if I understood that fireworks are spherical rather than circular, but for some reason I thought it would be a cool perspective. Mom told me it probably wouldn't be that great of a view considering the background would be all the stuff on the ground rather than the plain black of the sky. I saw her point, and knew that my dream to ever see a firework from above would probably never happen, but for some reason I always remembered that conversation.

Some dreams are just not meant to come true.

I still continue to have impossible dreams. These are more than just items tossed on a bucket list, or simple prayer requests; these are things that I can only dream about, but doubt they could ever be a reality. They're too good to be true. Perhaps God can and does make "dreams come true," but is that something I can expect from him? Aren't those only for the blessed few?

God has made some of my dreams come true. I remember a few years ago desperately longing, out of the blue, to go to Jamaica. Soon, an opportunity to go there for a spring break mission trip was practically placed in my lap, as well as the funding from generous donors. God gave me such joy from this brief but poignant answer to a dream. A few months later, I got to go to Juneau, Alaska. A year later, I got to go back to Juneau. My point is not that I am well-travelled, because I'm not, but that God fulfilled the longing in my heart to be elsewhere. You can literally go back a couple years on this very blog and watch the story unfold.

A few months ago, there came a deep and troubling longing in my heart to be back in Juneau again. A third time. It seemed like such an impossible dream! I would be so far away from home and family and familiarity... But if only I could live there! If I could walk out my front door and see those stellar views again. I ached and I craved.

God has blessed me with all I dared ask for right here, where I am in the lower 48. He gave me a lovely place to live, a very meaningful job (which for a while was my fervent request, but not an impossible dream), an amazing church, and my family within arms' reach. How could I be discontent? How could I ask for more?

Many of you probably haven't heard yet, but it's happening. I'm moving there and I don't know how long I'll stay. Perhaps only a year. Perhaps forever.

I have faith in impossible dreams now. They may still seem just as impossible, but at least I can know in my head that God loves to give them to me. I have more impossible dreams that are too personal to mention here now and that I know are far from being granted, but I believe in God's pleasure in making impossible things come to life. So I don't give up as easily on the impossible anymore.

Let me close with this:

I was flying home from Juneau on July 5 this year. The sun and our plane parted ways over opposite horizons when traveling from Seattle to Chicago. I took pictures of the dazzling clouds despite knowing that those pictures could not compare to what was seen with the naked eye. Night fell. When we got near Chicago, I saw something that caused tears to roll down my cheeks and my heart to sing praises to God. I saw fireworks... lots and lots of fireworks, from above. The background was a beautiful, glittering city. It was positively stunning. God took care to grant me my silly childhood dream. Now, whenever I think of impossible dreams, I think: fireworks from above.

I sat in the Chicago airport that night and wrote a letter to Aunt Amy about what I had seen and the boost of faith that God had given me; that I doubted less now that God could and would do miraculous things in and through my life.

May God also put fireworks from above in your life. His sweet tenderness toward me is yours as well. His love for you is just as great as it is for me or anyone else.


God bless.