Reflections...

For about ten days straight, I turned page after page, typed paper after paper, turning one in after another, without stopping much to breath. Then, at noon on Friday, I clicked "send" on my last paper and stumbled out of the library, squinting at the foreign sun. The next few days I hoped to rest and slow down, but it was as though I had slammed on the brakes of my life but my body and mind kept going forward. Stopping felt unnatural. A few days ago I caught myself walking hunched over determinedly from my bathroom sink to the kitchen, making coffee with my toothbrush in my mouth, multitasking out of habit, only to stop and realize that I was no longer speeding down the finals freeway. So I stopped, toothbrush drooping, and wondered what I would do with all this time. Perhaps I'll take up flossing. Most likely not.

I know—I'll look forward. My world is hurtling forward and so much waits just beyond the horizon that I catch myself jumping just to see if I can get an early glance. Many of you know, Ethiopia, moving, watching God bring justice to people who don't have it—these are some of the present and coming treasures in my life.

But first, now, for a moment, I'll look back. God has held my hand through two years of Seminary. Each semester my professors handed me my syllabus, and yes, it looked daunting. But I had signed up for it—I expected the workload. But each semester God had things planned to teach me that I would have NEVER signed up for if I had known ahead of time. I think that's why He doesn't tell me anything beforehand.

Isn't life that way? We think we understand what we're getting ourselves into. We have the plan, the layout, the illusion of control. God has more in store for us. We would sell ourselves short with comfort. He would take us to depths and heights. I would accept the play by play of my life, so I could make sure I wouldn't mess up. He would draw out beauty in me by refinement, develop character in me by trail, draw me closer to Him by stripping me of my fierce independence.

This year God taught me a bit more how to love the desperately broken things in this world, and at the same time love the beauty of this world. What tension! I've never understood how I could soak in the beauty of White Rock Lake (yes, I think it's beautiful), and others could perish of famine. And how can I read good literature when people die without His word? Should I not cringe with guilt at the ease of my life? God teaches me. This world is filled with brokenness and beauty, and I as a Christian am called to be in this world, and not of it. If I'm going to love, if I'm going to embrace this world, I've got to accept pain along with beauty. I can listen to my God, praise Him for the Rocky Mountains (Psalm 104), and give to those I meet in need (2 Tim 6:17-19). God doesn't need me. He spoke the waters into being, he can call the world to Himself. He'll use me, and I want nothing more than to be a willing tool in the hands of my God. I respond to the life He's leading to me to live in thankful love.

My desire is to be a redemptive presence wherever I am. My friend Kelsey told me about a church that plants gardens in one of the roughest areas of town. Homeless people grow vegetables there, and tend the plots allotted to them. What redemption! Jesus came to make all things new. Tonight I look like a girl in sweats in a coffee shop. But I am a beauty hunter, hunting beauty in everyone and everything I come across. And I'm looking for chances to speak about the King, the Creator of all things, and the news of Grace.

Guilt Post

My newsletter invited you to come read my blog, and then I haven't written anything since February (or January?) So this is me, on three hours of sleep in the last couple of days, guilt blogging.

I guilt blog from a lovely well lit house with wood floors and classical music playing over the surround sound. I just finished a paper on a beautiful book, and my eyes are so tired that I am literally closing them right now as I write this.

Okay, now they're open. Today there are going to be flash floods in Dallas, which I like very much, because it reminds me that God is massive and powerful, and I think of how small I am in comparison. But tonight I'm going to sleep through them, I hope. I'd just be tickled pink to sleep about 11 hours tonight.

I don't like the phrase tickled pink now that I write it. I think it is because I have control issues, and do not much enjoy being tickled. When I was younger I used to pretend to hyperventilate in an effort to make people stop tickling me. They would get scared and I'd make them feel guilty, and they would swear never to tickle me again.

Come to think of it, I was not a very pleasant child.

I have big plans for a coherent blog in the very near future. ;) Thanks for reading.