Archive for February, 2007

learning

i was just looking at pictures from the summer, and — despite the rough patches, half-baked planning, and jaded arguments… i really loved this past summer.

and i really do wonder what the next one will entail.

(… or even where it’ll be.)

ouch

i think i really, really need to be more careful about what i say and the way i say things. i tend to let my mouth and tongue run wild — i usually make snide remarks, coarse comments, mutter under my breath, roll my eyes… and, (though some have been relentlessly gracious about it) it’s starting to take its toll.

 maybe there’s a line between being honest and being hurtful. maybe there’s a line between being vulnerable and being offensive. i wrote a while back about honesty having a speed limit;… i feel like i’m about to topple over a cliff of self destructive comments.

and maybe it’s not about controlling what i say. or how i say it. maybe it’s simply being more with the Father who always knows what to say and when to say them…

… perhaps i should practice being silent for a while.
// you know, sometimes i’m scared that if i do change, people will still judge me for who i was. maybe that’s a fear that’ll never really go away.

preemptive

// while eating lunch

*talking about relationships and the ‘gift’ of singleness*

“There was a mom at my home church who would often pray for our future husbands.”

“Oh really? How so?”

“Like.. she’d pray over them. For them to be growing in God, to be men of integrity and staying pure for their future wives.”

“Ooh … we should do that!”

“Ahahahahaha, seriously?”

“I’m not kidding!! Let’s pray for them, I’m being serious!”

“Ahahahahaha..”

“W! This isn’t a laughing matter!”

:P

don’t

think you know what it feels like. unless your own family is nonchristian and might be eternity without knowing God,… don’t give me that.

you don’t understand.

shaken

medium sweetened passionfruit iced tea, … shaken, not stirred.

aka… starbucks, the next best thing after the fruit parfaits at ctb.

//

tonight’s large group was something concerning xx-xy relationships — how they’re all broken, and all in need of a savior too. we talked about common misconceptions we have of the other gender, and if we thought they were true or not. we talked about genesis 2, and the fall, and men and women together are whole in God’s image.

one of the misconceptions that guys shared was that girls are always overly sensitive and emotional. which… i think is true to a certain extent. but i don’t know..

sometimes there are those things, you know? the testimony you read about a girl who’s been cutting herself her entire life but now wants to feel the joy of jesus instead of the control of pain. the class of third graders who finally have a teacher in the bronx who loves them and won’t take flight in light of hardship. the group of christians who are determined to make a mark in this generation and just decide to start praying until something happens.

and these things do make me emotional. they make me joyful, or sad, or angry with the world and sin and myself, or shame, or fear, or nostalgia, or longing, deep longing for a world that is our rightful home.

but i think i’d rather this.
“what if you’re not just being emotional? what if everything just breaks your heart…?” – e.

to live is to feel… right?

to write love

We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she’s known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true.

We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don’t get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won’t solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we’re called home.

// from to write love on her arms.

something i was reading/thinking about while sitting in olin doing waves homework today.

workout plan

for the last 24 hours, a number of christians on campus participated in globalfast2007.

and now i’m kinda tired. and kinda cranky. and kinda stuffed from eating most of a grand slam from shortstop deli (note: a grand slam is a 12 inch long and … 3? inch wide sandwich. uh huh) while watching i. and m. duke it out in the naruto video game.

but i guess today was alright. (had an interesting conversation about church with my lab partner….)

i’m realizing more and more how disciplined i was over the summer, and how… not i am this semester. something i’ve been thinking about a lot is, no more distractions, no more distractions

i think my sg and i are working towards trying different types of fasting and prayer and building it up on it for the end of the semester. working out is much more durable (and possibly.. enjoyable?) when others are you are doing it too.

i.e…. this is what it looks like around hour 22:

hour 22.

the good ol’ body of christ

i originally joined the fellowship i’m in because i knew God wanted to use me in some way i didn’t understand in a place where i’d be slightly uncomfortable.

and now, a year and a half later, i’m no closer to finding out what that reason is.

//

is it wrong that on a sunday morning, i’d rather hang out with the girl who got beer bottles thrown at her window at 3 am in her sorority than chat with the huddle of asians in the corner?

re:

confession time.

i don’t want to go to large gatherings of people from my fellowship because i feel incredibly judged. either as the voodoo spiritual leader who can’t miss a single prayer meeting for anything, or as the freakishly emotional trainwreck whose idealism is going to kill her.

even today at the 230987 meetings i went to. i can’t help thinking that i always know the right answer. but sometimes i don’t think i have any answers at all.

faith tonight

it was going well. i was finally learning to believe in the power of other people’s prayers — that when people say they’ll pray, they actually will. that when peopel are specifically asking for the four or five prayer requests i hastily scribbled on a notecard, there’s faith in that.

i was going to prayer meeting and investing in them like i wanted to this semester. i didn’t have to get up at 7 am on friday morning to finish my waves pset. i was surprisingly joyful throughout all the makeup work and meetings and snow day.

then it came.

and i suppose i should’ve expected it.

satan does a great job of attacking.

the wall i crashed into was a conversation in the corner of the ivy room. it was in that moment of frightfully real honesty that broke my heart. of some of the most jesus-crazy people i’ve ever met .. doubt. and question. i could almost hear the shattering of whatever naive hope i had that in the end, all my friends would recognize the wrong of their waves and surrender to Jesus. that if only we prayed hard enough, then all things would go our way in our own timing.

it makes me wonder what it really is. doubt, or the ‘unity’ of this so-called christian body. for the first time in college, i didn’t want to go to large group (but felt compelled to since i’m a sgl, and would be accusatory stares if i did not). i didn’t particularly want to go somewhere and act like my week was good but tiring, and that i only look so down and don’t have the strength to stand up because i’m tired. i could only imagine responses to a more real answer of, “yeah, i’m exhausted from trying to fight this spiritual battle and i’m starting to lose my footing and the people i looked up to around me are starting to doubt and i’m so scared and i’m feeling angry at God for making it this way. how was your week?”

(on a side note, i haven’t had this physical urge to pray since last easter. it’s not going away.)

sigh.

have mercy on me and my demanding ways. i need to remember those — the ones i used to walk alongside but have stopped being in relationship with him. to fight through prayer.

but sometimes, i can’t help thinking. that in the end, it doesn’t matter. it’s still His choice.

.

.

well. it’s like you said, right?

it’s not if God can or not.
it’s if he will.