A New Language

For the past month (okay, the past year), I have found it really difficult to write. Journaling, blogging, creative writing: it has all seemed forced and dry and just, well, not good. No matter how long I sit in front of the computer, no matter how much I try to discipline myself to write every day or even once a week for that matter, I still come up with nothing. As someone who used to benefit emotionally from writing, this has been an incredibly frustrating time. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why my inspiration had seemed to dry up, why words no longer flooded my brain like they used to. But I think I figured it out today.

                In the last year, my life has undergone a dramatic shift. In the past my story has been marked by struggles, both personally and relationally. Personally in the form of depression and feelings of inadequacy, and relationally in the form of family issues and fear of social interaction. But things have changed and in the last year I have found healing and happiness. In this time I have been depression-free, I have learned how to love myself, I have found stability in relationships, and I am seeing the world as a brighter place.

As I was reading for class I came across this passage. “Language is the way we create worlds; it’s what we do to make a culture, whether that is North American culture or the culture of a local church or denominational system. When we suddenly find ourselves in this confusing new space, the language that had worked so well to this point no longer matches the reality around us. We are disoriented and confused. In this new space we need time and processes to help us begin to articulate what we are experiencing in order to develop the language we need to make sense of where we find ourselves”  (Introducing the Missional Church, pg. 142). And suddenly it all made sense.

I don’t have a language for happiness. I know how to express fear, anxiety, and confusion, but I don’t know how to talk about contentment and joy and love. Writing used to be so simple because I knew how to talk about pain and darkness. I knew how to describe the heavy-headedness of depression and exhaustion. But I don’t know how to talk about triumph and optimism. I don’t know how to describe Mia’s laugh or the way Adam makes me feel. I don’t have a language for this new place in my life and that’s why writing is so hard for me right now.

I Am Smart (Among Other Things)

Today in Interpersonal Skills Training group we talked about things that others like about us and things we have a hard time accepting in ourselves or others. One of the things I mentioned is that it is hard for me to accept failure. I am always pushing myself to do better. A "B" is never good enough. Jaime asked where that came from. To be honest, I'm not sure. So that's what I attempted to work through tonight as I journaled.

What will straight As and/or a high GPA give me? And advantage if/when I apply to grad schools. Good standing in the Honor’s Program. That’s it. Grades do not guarantee success. Grades do not guarantee a high paying job. They do not guarantee a happy life.

How will my family and friends view me if I only got Bs from here on out? They would still think I am smart. They will still love me. They will still think I am worth their time. I will still have a place to stay and people with whom I can watch movies.

Being intelligent is part of my identity, but it is not my entire identity. Who am I? I am patient. I am funny. I am responsible. I am a good listener. I am a daughter and a sister. I am a girlfriend and a best friend. I am a caregiver and a small group leader. I am a reader and a writer and a music lover and a dreamer. I am loved by God, my family, and my friends.

At times it feels like I will only be liked if I have something to offer. If I am not smart, I am not special. Take away my grades and there’s nothing left that you would be interested in. Are these things true? Do I actually believe this? Where do these lies come from?

The only way to overcome lies is to focus on the truth. This is what I know to be true: the God of the universe loves me deeply and there is nothing I can do to earn it or deserve it. Any intelligence I have is a gift from God. It did not come about by my power, but I can be a good steward of that gift. Failure is never final. I will never be perfect. There will always be someone smarter than me. My family loves me because I am me. I am valuable. I have something to offer others. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am loved unconditionally. These things I know to be true.

“Out of all the voices calling out to me, I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth.”

We Spoke of Heavy Things

Sometimes I get such beautiful glimpses of what the Body of Christ is supposed to look like. Today in my Interpersonal Skills Training small group, we shared emotional stories. These were stories that were hard to talk about, memories that were painful to recall. We were transparent and vulnerable. We let each other see through the cracks in our armor to the soft flesh underneath. We spoke of heavy things.

Normally that kind of vulnerability is scary to me. As someone who takes empathy way too far, I tend to feel what others are feeling, and many times that leaves me feeling overwhelmed. When there is too much transparency in a room, I pull back. I shrink under the weight of such heavy emotions. But today was different. I was able to listen to stories of hurt and respond, even if that response was to simply sit and share the weight of that emotion. Sometimes that is all that is needed. I don’t always need someone to address my problems and help me find solutions. Sometimes I just want someone who will sit and share the weight with me. Someone who chooses to feel even a tiny percentage of what I am feeling. And we were able to do that for each other today. It was different from what I am used to, but in such a significant way. Because this felt more real. It felt good to talk about the dark things, the hard things. It felt good to share in each other’s burdens.

I think that’s part of what Christian community is supposed to look like. As a result of that small group experience, I realized that was the kind of interaction and conversation I want to have in all of my relationships. I want to be surrounded by the kind of people who value vulnerability as a stepping stone to growth. I want to have the kind of relationships that leave room for talking about brokenness. I crave that kind of raw honesty. And I see now how blessed I am to be in the kind of environment that fosters those relationships. And that is a beautiful glimpse of the Body.

Here I Raise My Ebenezer

In 1 Samuel 7, Samuel cries out to the Lord on behalf of the Israelites, asking Him to rescue them from the Philistines. With “loud thunder,” the Lord stirs the Philistines right into the path of the Israelites, where Samuel and his people are finally able to find victory over their enemies. In response to this, Samuel sets a stone in the road, naming it Ebenezer and proclaiming, “Thus far the Lord has helped us.” He establishes this stone as a visual reminder for the Israelites of God’s power, faithfulness, and mercy. He didn't want them to forget.

                Maybe I ought to raise my own Ebenezer stone. I don’t ever want to forget what the Lord has done for me. I want to remember the ways in which He has been faithful and merciful. I want to recall the ways He has saved me and healed me. Right here, right now, I want to call out some of the countless encounters I have had with the Lord who helps.

                The Lord Jesus Christ took my sins upon His shoulders and died for my salvation. The Lord has loved me even when I did not love myself. The Lord has gracefully carried me through times of death and divorce. The Lord has delivered me from the grip of depression. The Lord has provided the means for me to attend a Christian school. The Lord has driven out my anxiety and replaced it with His peace. The Lord has blessed me with a supportive family who chooses to see the best in me. The Lord has replaced my old, jealous heart with a new, compassionate heart. The Lord has taken me from fear of the future to hope for the future. The Lord has given me the capacity to learn and absorb. The Lord has humbled me by putting me in positions of leadership for which I did not feel equipped. The Lord has gifted me with encouragement, faith, and mercy. The Lord has led me to repentance. The Lord has led me to forgive those who have hurt me. The Lord has spoken to me. The Lord has called me His daughter. The Lord has held me close in times of loneliness. The Lord has brought me to this place.

                So here I raise my Ebenezer and loudly proclaim, “Thus far the Lord has helped me.”

Don't Let These Waves Wash Away Your Hopes

WOODEN HEART (sea of mist called skaidan)

We’re all born to broken people on their most honest day of living
and since that first breath... We’ll need grace that we’ve never given
I've been haunted by standard red devils and white ghosts
and it's not only when these eyes are closed
these lies are ropes that I tie down in my stomach,
but they hold this ship together tossed like leaves in this weather
and my dreams are sails that I point towards my true north,
stretched thin over my rib bones, and pray that it gets better
but it won’t won’t, at least I don’t believe it will...
so I've built a wooden heart inside this iron ship,
to sail these blood red seas and find your coasts.
don’t let these waves wash away your hopes
this war-ship is sinking, and I still believe in anchors
pulling fist fulls of rotten wood from my heart, I still believe in saviors
but I know that we are all made out of shipwrecks, every single board
washed and bound like crooked teeth on these rocky shores
so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember

I am the barely living son of a woman and man who barely made it
but we’re making it taped together on borrowed crutches and new starts
we all have the same holes in our hearts...
everything falls apart at the exact same time
that it all comes together perfectly for the next step
but my fear is this prison... that I keep locked below the main deck
I keep a key under my pillow, it’s quiet and it’s hidden
and my hopes are weapons that I’m still learning how to use right
but they’re heavy and I’m awkward...always running out of fight
so I’ve carved a wooden heart, put it in this sinking ship
hoping it would help me float for just a few more weeks
because I am made out of shipwrecks, every twisted beam
lost and found like you and me scattered out on the sea
so come on let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, just some tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember

My throat it still tastes like house fire and salt water
I wear this tide like loose skin, rock me to sea
if we hold on tight we’ll hold each other together
and not just be some fools rushing to die in our sleep
all these machines will rust I promise, but we'll still be electric
shocking each other back to life
Your hand in mine, my fingers in your veins connected
our bones grown together inside
our hands entwined, your fingers in my veins braided
our spines grown stronger in time
because our church is made out of shipwrecks
from every hull these rocks have claimed
but we pick ourselves up, and try and grow better through the change
so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach
come on and sew us together, were just tattered rags stained forever
we only have what we remember