Doubt and Decisions

It's been a while, blog-o-sphere.  I've been too busy to have time to myself to think and write.  Or...when I had time to myself, I used it for other things, like sleeping, or reading, or playing (yes, 22year olds still play).

But, now that it's summer, and I have long, solitary hours in the lab to think, I haven't been able to stop.

Weird thing about active imaginations is they never really shut up.  It can be handy, if you're bored, but if you're introspective, it borders on the dangerous.  If you spend too much time thinking about yourself, you start doubting everything you are, everything you've done, everything you could do, everything you want.

Once you spend a few weeks doing that--and believe me, I have--you start to wonder, who am I, exactly?  Sounds pretty weird coming from a confident person (or at least a mostly-confident person).  Sounds pretty weird coming from a person who's known at least an outline of what her career would be since she was 6.  Sounds pretty weird, and totally conceivable, to me.

Doubt is a funny thing: when people confront you about it, you never have it, but when you're alone, when you ask yourself...you will always have Doubt.  But once you admit to yourself that you have it, it doesn't begin to lighten, to back off, it just gets heavier and more prevalent.  It begins to consume every thought, particularly when you have extended periods of alone time.

For me it's particularly present when I return to my hometown.  It's a small enough town that there are memories on pretty much every route to every location; memories that are good, bad, or a little of both.  These memories plague my thoughts as I cruise around, taunting me with past decisions, some still tantalizing, some discouraging, some merely nostalgic.  It makes for a very interesting internal dialogue, with too many "what-ifs" to count.  These what-ifs are formed by that Doubt that loves to haunt the recesses of my memories, my inmost thoughts.  It's a nasty thing, Doubt, that shows its face on vacation, on relaxation-time, on alone time (which is much needed for this closet introvert).  This year, it took me breaking down to my mom for us to realize that it's not just me that goes through this.  Yes, there's nothing new under the sun, no, I'm not special in my brand of issues, but this particular internal pain of doubting decisions seemed so strange that I was sure not many felt it.  Turns out the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

The story gets better, though, I promise.

We realized some things, my mom and I--well, she realized them years ago, she led me to these thoughts during that kitchen-table-breakdown.

There will always be Doubt.  There will always be "what-ifs," that's the fine print that comes with an independent mind, with a free will.  There will always be one road you didn't take, one choice you didn't choose.  That's the backwards joy that comes with the imaginations we've been given: there is always more than one option, more than one decision you can make.  There is always more than one voice you can listen to: Doubt, Fear, Pride, Joy, Hatred, Faith, Lust, Selfishness, Truth, the list goes on.  

You just have to decide: which voice do you listen to?  Which voice will give you the confidence to respond to Doubt's "what-ifs" with a defiant "so-what?"  I've chosen what I've chosen because of the voices I've listened to.  No, it's not the same voice all the time, yes, my life would look different if I only chose to listen to only one, yes, there are things that could have been different...but they're not.  They are what they are, and until we master time travel, Doubt just serves as a painful reminder that we're human, and faith in ourselves will lead to trouble.  

Faith in the voice that you listen to will dictate your response when that voice of Doubt whispers softly in your ear.  

You have to choose which voice to listen to.  I've chosen, and Doubt won't win this one, no matter how sweet that whisper is.

February--the love month.

Writing is a funny thing.  When I want to write, I find myself speechless; when I need to be doing other things, I find myself bursting at the seams with words that must go onto paper.  Today is one of those awkward times when I both want to write and need to be doing other things, but I find myself struggling to begin speaking on anything of consequence, or anything inconsequential.

Even the weather is uninspiring, though beautiful.  It's too cold to sit outside, but too pretty to remain indoors.  I've landed with my back to an open window, providing a stiff breeze and sunshine at once on the back of my neck.

Such is February: a month of almost's, and nearly there's, and infuriatingly so-close-but-yet-so-far moments.
This isn't even in reference to Valentine's Day, which passed without much hullabaloo one way or another this time around.  I baked for my class, shared the leftovers with Warnell boys, and spent the remainder of the evening with the Valentines God has recently blessed with me--my LOL girls.  We watched a portion of One Night with the King, one of the most beautiful stories of a man and a woman--except for maybe Ruth and Boaz, or the Lover and Beloved of Song of Solomon--that has ever been written.

In retrospect, I take it back, Valentine's Day was a wonderful reminder of the greatest Valentine of all, my Lord and Savior.  Stereotypical, yes, but I'm holding to it, not backing down.  His love has been proved to me over and over without a shadow of a doubt, that I don't need a red-and-pink-bedecked card or a bouquet of freezer-scented roses to be assured that my God loves me.  The brush of the wind against my cheek, the hug of a friend, the sun-kissed mornings, the sweet wake-up text of a family member, the stolen moments in the Word, the open doors for a heart's desire: these things leave me breathless with the romance that is from my Lord.  Even now, with the month of almost's almost over, I can look at my roommate and her boyfriend, sitting on our couch, also relishing in the sun-kissed day of February 25th, and see the love and grace of God emanating from them.  They don't know I write about them, but that is neither here nor there.  God's love is here, however, and that's what matters.

How great is the love He has for us, that we might bask--knowingly or unknowingly--in the glories of his creation at all times, in all situations, with all attitudes!  How endless is the love that served as the impetus for the creation of this beautiful Earth, these beautiful people!  How much He lavishes on us that we do not deserve, and do not notice!  Open my eyes to the depths of your love, your provision!  Show me, "until my eyes get tired," to borrow a phrase from needtobreathe.  My heart is already flooded with love of You and from You, but, Lord, fill it to overflowing!  May this February not be a month of almost's, but a month of too much's: too much joy, too much growth, too much grace, too much love to encompass in words so frail-ly scribbled--or typed--by these hands.

Maybe I spoke too soon, maybe there was inspiration in today.  Yes, I know there was, otherwise this would have ended somewhere in the third paragraph--a dismally short, and rather empty, post.  Instead, You never cease to gently remind me that there is always inspiration, there is always something worth spending words on, there is always a reason to rejoice.  Always.  That reason is you.

Psalm try #2

Lord, time with you is much more
  valuable than sleep,
for it is in you that my
  soul finds rest.

It is in the shadows of your might presence
  that I find solace and comfort.
It is in you
  that my soul finds completion and peace.
It is in your Word
  that the world becomes brighter,
  more manageable.
It is in your presence
  that I find life and love.
It is in those moments of pure joy
  --only capable through your Holy Spirit--
  that I find myself alive as never before.

In your mountains
  I find power.
In your peaks
  I find your perfection.
In your oceans
  I find your passion, your true force.
In your animals
  I find your gentleness.
In your mountain flowers
  I find your peace.
In your conifers
  I find your elegance.
In the flowers of the field
  I find your smile.
In your birds of the air
  I find your freedom.
In the still of the night
  I find the vastness of your beauty.

In everything
  I find I cannot escape your presence.
In everything I find you.

Army and God have same Goal of Unification...wait, what?

So, I'm on the prayer team for the Perspectives class-- http://www.perspectives.org/site/pp.aspx?c=eqLLI0OFKrF&b=2806295.  Originally, I must confess I was skeptical about the class, the class's mission, and the legitimacy of the organization.  I told my friend I'd be on the prayer team even though I wasn't sure why I was agreeing to pray for something that I didn't particularly trust.  However, God's definitely changed my heart over the course of 3 weeks of being true to this promise--well almost.  I missed last week, and doubled up on my time for this week.  Praise God for that!  But this morning, while I was praying for the listed requests, particularly for the believers in Athens, it occurred to me that all the scriptures about Christians being an army on the march could and should apply to the way we commit ourselves to the Lord.  I wanted to re-write my prayer so I didn't freak anyone out by praying on the blog...but the most effective way for me to get what I'm saying across to you is to just go with what I said first.

I pray this for all the believers in Athens and otherwise: strip us of ourselves so that your Glory and Power and Goodness will not be hidden by anything we have made ourselves.  What an honor to have the God of the Universe manifesting Himself in us!  How could we hide such glory?  Lord we are so prideful.  I am so prideful.  Strip me of myself.  Leave only what you want.  Show the world yourself through my words and actions.  Lord how powerful you are to do such things to your creations.  How beautiful your glory is when untainted by poor human efforts.  Lord we have no right to edit You.  You are unchanging, you are constant, you are eternal, and it is You who we are to show to the world, not to ourselves.  God this is a huge task.
This is heavy, this is difficult, this requires your believers to give up themselves and conform to your orders -- much like an army man does for his commanding officer, or for his army.  Lord I used to think that the Army was mean and old-fashioned to take away the individuality of the faithful and replace it with the Army-man.  But I understand now.  To have an effective minister, ambassador, member, of an organization, he or she must conform completely and truly to the ideals of the Head.  Lord...how much more should we so do that for You?  You desire only good, perfect, and eternal things for your children.  We have nothing to fear in giving up ourselves for your plan.  Lord you are Perfect, how could we not desire to become vessels for you?  Show me how to put on your fatigues, put on your uniform, and never take it off.  Show the city of Athens how to do the same thing.  Show all your believers how to unite under the colors of your Gospel and fight for your true, unadulterated name to be known throughout the nations.

Show me how to use this blog for your glory, not for my own.  Let my words be yours.

Amendment:  After speaking with a valued friend last night (1/28) about this, I must make the concession that while God and the Army have similar requirements of their followers, the Army is a human institution, and God is the one Perfect being in this universe.  That being said, I admire those in the armed forces--not just the Army--that have the respect to give themselves to the ideals of our country's defense.  And yet, how much more of an honor is it to give up yourself to become a member of the kingdom of God and his Perfection!  How easy it should be for us to be willing to give up our imperfect selves to that the God of perfection can complete his work on our hearts!  O!  LORD give me the humility to see how infinitely greater you are than I could ever be on my own!

New Years Greeting: Then and Now

We found a poem written by my great great grandfather, Adoniram Judson Holt, for the year 1922.  After reading it, my teary eyes saw my life flash before them.  It's funny how from the eve of 1922 to eve 2012, we still wish for the same things for our friends and for ourselves.  I hope this finds you well.

Again I am sending my greeting,
To the friends who have brightened my way;
Who along with the years that are fleeting,
Unselfishly have been repeating,
Their kindness, despite my depleting;
Thus sweetly extending my stay.

This world would be dreary and cheerless
Were it not for the friends who abide,
When dangers impending, are fearless,
When sorrows assail, are not tearless,
When needed are present and peerless,
Who have proven both truly and tried.

What a comfort to have a great Brother,
Who while Savior and Kind, is our Friend,
When trials assail, will ever prevail,
When others deride will ever abide,
More constant than even a mother,
Our Advocate unto the end.

So over the year that is ending,
And across the days coming to me,
A heart-throb of love I am sending,
And praying for mercies unending,
God's grace all-sufficient defending
'Till sunset shall smile upon thee.

Advent Thoughts--Converting a Scrooge, one Day at a Time

I'm working my way through an Advent devotional, designed to stop and make me think about all the aspects of Advent that I normally miss.  I've spent so long being a scrooge against the commercialization of Christmas, that I missed celebrating the fullness of the true meaning of Christmas.  While the devotional (www.youversion.com) is sometimes simple, it really has been an exercise in making me think about the true reason for the season, and the fact that yes, sometimes the Christmas season does start  before the end of November...sigh.  The first Sunday of Advent was the 27th of November this year.  But Advent is celebrated in its entirety for a reason, so I'm trying to focus on that instead of the secular foolishness that makes me scroogy.
Below is an excerpt from one of my journalings for the devotional.


I think the thing to remember is our creation doesn't stop at our birth, or at the end of all of our growth spurts (when we look like adults).  God forms us, in our mother's womb, before she even knew us (Psalm 139).  He gives us a body, gives us a life, and then ushers us through it, giving us blessings and hardships along the way.  Through our life experiences, he continues to create who we are in Him; that is, if we surrender to him and let him work in us.  God's salvation didn't come at the birth of Jesus.  His perfect plan was only made complete upon the sacrifice of his Son.  The Advent season is about celebrating the coming of the Savior, but not the saving of the people.  The Advent season is about the beginning of our salvation, but not the completion.  Just like we must continually be tweaked and shaped and touched up to really become the men and women of God, so did Jesus, until he had completed the work God laid out for him.  It wasn't until he was resurrected from the dead that our salvation was created, and it isn't until the day we see that Savior, really, that we are fully created to be who God intended.

Turbulence: a Hindrance or a Necessity?

It's been a while since I've blogged.  It wasn't intentional to start something and not finish it...or not keep up with it, but apparently that's how my life works sometimes.  Right now I'm looking out of my stale apartment's windows, staring at a very gray, windy, rainy, miserable day.  Funny how the weather reflects our moods so often.

Or is it the other way around?

The turbulent winds outside mirror the turbulent thoughts in my head.  No, I'm not rainy or teary, but the finals A.D.D. is definitely kicking in, with thoughts and emotions racing around, making the windows of my soul whistle, like the wind outside does to 202's.
Why is it that in the moments you need to focus most, the wind picks up?  It's a peculiar phenomenon, sparked by the turbulent powers of the world, this I know.  I would have hoped by now that I would be impervious to these powers, or at least wind-proof.  Alas, the whipping wind always finds the cracks, the chinks, the loose seals.  It finds the places you haven't locked up tight, the places you're still vulnerable.

Vulnerable.  What a scary word.  Dictionary.com says it means:
1. Capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon.
2. Open to moral attack, criticism, temptation, etc.
3. (Of a place) open to assault; difficult to defend.
It's formed from the Latin words that mean "to wound" and "-ble."  Par for the course, since we spend our entire lives trying to lock up tight--keep every breeze out--become an impenetrable fortress--nothing gets through to hurt me.  Funny how it doesn't work.

...such is the human condition...

We can strive and rant and rail and rage against the world, the wind, the sun and the rain, and yet...we still find ourselves with wind-chills down our backs at the most inconvenient of times.  Seems pretty futile, if you ask me.

I look out the window again just now, and it's sunny.  The sun has broken through those gray clouds, kissing the autumn-dead leaves, making them look copper, not dead and brittle as they did five minutes ago.
To be wind-proof, you really need to be weather-proof.  To be weather proof, you need to live underground, in a cement bunker.  The problem with living in a cement bunker is you can't see the copper, sun-kissed leaves that come with the poignant beauty of a turbulent autumn day.  The problem with a cement bunker, is you don't see the jewel-like rain drops trapped on a window screen, you don't see the blue stripes in the sky, you don't hear the power of the wind ripping through those copper leaves.

Is it the same with our own bodily bunker?  The world tells us to lock ourselves up tight: don't let anyone or anything in without your permission, without you opening that cement bunker of a heart.  Is that really what I want?  Do I want to be life-proof?  Some days, when the wind is whipping, the leaves are brittle, the sky is dark, and my mood mirrors it all, yes, I do want to be life-proof.  But it never fails that something, a little ray of sunshine, a little stripe of blue, a glint of copper, a jeweled raindrop is given to me by the Ultimate Bunker.  I wouldn't have noticed all those little beauties, had it not been for the miserably gray weather from earlier.  But...now it is gray again, windy and wicked.  Again, my windows are vulnerable to the sharp winds.  Seems like we'll never win: cement and life-proof, or glass and vulnerable.  One ensures protection from everything, the other offers the chance of seeing beauty, even if it only one glimpse at a time.

Conundrum.  It's quite the catch-22, it seems.  We each have a decision to make: are we going to be solid, cemented, impenetrable fortresses, or are we going to have with drafty windows that are bejeweled with raindrops?  If I'd asked myself this question before now, I would have quickly answered "impenetrable" without a second thought.  Now, I would argue that I wouldn't have really had a first thought then either.  Now, I'd choose the drafty windows.  How do you know you're alive if you can't feel that wind leaking in to your home?  I'll take the gray days, the racing thoughts, the A.D.D., the icy wind, if it means I can have the beautiful, crunchy copper, the brilliant blue stripes, and the roaring power of the wind.

Vulnerability isn't just about being available for hurt or discomfort or frustration.  It's about being available for those glances of beauty and moments of triumph and those hidden blessings that only the icy wind can bring.