Ripe

I'm ready to fall in love with Jesus again.

The last time was two years ago, exactly. It was Easter weekend, and I was house-sitting for my folks, who'd taken Abby and gone to Las Vegas. I had resolved to read through the Gospels, but this time... I was going to read it just to get to know Jesus. To try and read his words just as they were printed in my Bible, no extra notes or added theological baggage. To try and forget everything I've ever heard. A hard feat, but one worth pursuing.

Because the result was that my world was radically changed. I fell in love with Christ for the first time, the first time loving him for himself and not what he did for me. I kept reading and reading everyday, and another first happened - I was having consistent daily devotions for first time in my 20-some years as a professing Christian. I started memorizing scripture. I had the most amazing prayer times. I had moments, both in devotions and during ordinary events, when I knew that the Spirit had moved and God had spoken to me. And over it all was this beautiful, awestruck incredulousness that I was finally in the place I had wanted but could never seem to get into for so long. I was walking with God, and I knew it only got better from there.

So what happened? Well, it's necessary to relate what else was going on in my life at the time. I'll try to be as brief as possible, but I can't promise you pithiness.

1) The church I had attended for over 6 years was being led by a pastor that had joined us just that previous August. That Easter was supposed to be this radical relaunch of our church, and so many things had changed to accommodate the new paradigm, many of which I, as a designer and marketing person, had a hand in creating. All lingering bitterness aside and to simply put it, when our relaunch attracted absolutely no new visitors, our pastor made it his mission to take to his heels as quickly as possible and, to ensure less guilt on his part for leaving, tried his best to discourage, disrupt, and sow seeds of hurt and war among members, all to make sure the church closed its doors soon after he left.

2) His leaving in early June left the district in charge of the church, with the church's board acting as best it could to hold everything together in the absence of a leader. Many, many things were discussed and happened and so on, but the gist of it was that, as secretary of the board, I was under the double pressure of being the board and the church's liaison to the district (specifically, to the district superintendent, who experienced many serious illnesses and family tragedies that summer, throwing circumstances into a greater state of confusion). I tried to initiate a time of dedicated prayer for the board to occur every Sunday morning before church. Not once during the 2+ months it was initiated was the entire board (of 6 people) in that room.

3) Meanwhile (and a little before all this), I'm reading Relevant magazine and books like Red Moon Rising and The Vision & the Vow and The Coffeehouse Gospel and The Journey Towards Relevance. My world is opening up. I'm reading the words of Christ and realizing that much of my church life so far has been, not wasteful or pointless, but still missing quite a lot. I begin to think new thoughts, thoughts about my responsibilities as a Christ-follower, a leader-needing-to-become-servant. Desires are blossoming in my heart - visions of the kind of church I want to be involved in - and, as much as I loved (and still love) the members of my church, I did not see my path and its aligning.

4) I put feelers out for a church. (I knew it was a housechurch I wanted to be in, but how do you find a housechurch? They're not exactly found in the Yellow Pages.) So I again turned to Relevant, whose site has a church directory on it. There I found my current community, but did not enter in with them for a few months, trying my best to lead by example, encourage, and keep everyone on the same page at the old church.

5) Finally, after several stressful, confusing, and frustrating months (still having wonderful daily devotions - the only thing that kept me going so long, except for a couple wonderful friends), I came to the conclusion that I was making no difference, and I may as well move on and let the church do the same. And my last Sunday there proved that my efforts had made no impact. I was deeply hurt and heartbroken, and struggled with resentment. I turned to my new community, excited and relieved, but burnt out. Exhausted. Despairing of being able to be worthwhile and impactful.

And that's when, somewhere along the way, I let the daily devotions slip. I went back to mediocrity.

But I'm right here, now, feeling the same stirring. Knowing that I'm being drawn, aching for the same love, being wooed with the most incredible tenderness, challenged to change with the same fierce sincerity and promise of support as before. My heart, my head, my spirit, and my life are ripe to become - oh, please, not only once again but forevermore! - completely abandoned to my beautiful and amazing God. My Jesus. Mine.

Lord, so be it. Help me.

The Dark Princess

With half-hearted apologies, here is a post from my alter ego...

"The Dark Princess." That's what my dad called me in my teens. I used to dress in dark colors and write copious amounts of depressing poetry and try to wring pity from the people around me. (Obviously, it was a joke to my dad.) Now, while not a complete opposite, those whom I interact with often consider me outgoing. Now, I have friends whom I strongly suspect consider me frivolous and shallow. Not exactly what I was going for.

Over the years, I came to realize that personalities like mine (negative) were draining. Nobody I liked being around behaved like me, and they certainly didn't like being around me. But now I'm visiting this issue again from the flip side. And it's incredibly frustrating to think I've changed so much to gain hardly any ground.

I feel more "me" than I was in my teens. No wonder - I spent so much time hiding who I was I convinced myself I was the withdrawn, tragic figure I always presented. But why did I hide? I think, for one, I didn't know who I was. I've always been a couple of steps behind my peers in some ways, and particularly in the identity department. But I also think that part of the HPS (hidden personality syndrome - my own term, I think) was due to several factors - growing up surrounded by adults, certain incidents that happened when I was small, my parents' divorce (I've only just begun to process how that impacted me), a natural tendency to find more satisfaction in my own imagination than in the company of others, and barely any true encouragement for the things I showed an aptitude in (art and writing). And I believe pressure to continue in something because you're proud of your child's talent/ability (not evil in itself, but detrimental if devoid of the next quality) is quite different than nurturing that talent/ability because your child's joy in it brings you joy.

But I think I've digressed a bit. What I'm trying to say is this whole approach of making my self more "attractive" by having a more friendly, assertive personality... it's not working. You may contend that it's due to a lack of conviction, and to a certain extent you may be right. But consider the fact that sometimes I actually am confident in myself, that I know I'm being witty and people are laughing because my comments are genuinely funny, or that I walk away from the mirror in the morning fairly satisfied that I've made myself attractive, or that I finished a creative project that I know has stretched me and exceeded my own expectations.... All those little moments add up.

Yet it only takes one little pin-prick to deflate me, to convince me I'm undesirable, unloveable, unworthy, and will always remain so. Those little self-affirming moments? They weren't bricks I built my self-image with, they were grains of sand.

So much for confidence building confidence.

Hello? Anyone out there?

I wonder if there is a point to me writing a blog. I have a journal, after all. So for what purpose does this blog exist?

I have nothing profound to share. I'm constantly surrounded by people who are much more intelligent and skillful at expressing themselves than I am. But there I go, comparing myself again.

So, I'm still left with this question, and it has only one answer: I'm here for me. I'm here to get attention. I'm here to see if anyone cares what I have to say, even if it's not as eloquent as what they could write.

Yes, I realize how pitiful and selfish I am. But I'm tired of beating myself up for that. I do it all the time, I really do. The sad thing is I had someone compliment me today, and I was too embarrassed to receive it well, probably because I was fishing for it, though I just now realize that. And when you have to ask someone to care about what you do, their feedback, no matter how sincere, loses some of its power.

Of course, I'm back to the whole "looking outside myself for validation" thing. Or, if you prefer, idolatry.

I've also had the thought, why are we so uncomfortable with vulnerability? The only person I cry in front of (and that is rare) is my aunt (please disregard the tears when I'm reading or watching TV or a movie). For crying out loud, I see a counselor, and I never fully open up! And yet I write things on a public forum, trying to be transparent, asking for people to see me for who I really am.

I feel needy as I write this, like I'm asking too much. Am I? You who read this, should I bother? Is it worth your time to read my thoughts? Do you understand what I want, and also that I am scared to receive it?

Because I want honesty. I want your vulnerability, too. I want to be known, and I want to know you. And I want to know... do you want me to know you? Or have you decided that I can't be trusted or that I wouldn't understand?

Am I valuable enough for real communication?