A Casket Heart

Love is patient, love is kind...

Love is one of the scariest things in the world.

We can be afraid of heights, spiders, monsters in our closet and under our beds, snakes, all things creepy and crawly, super-fast-stomach-turning rides at amusement parks (yes...I'm just listing my own fears here), but those are rarely the things we are truly afraid of, in the deepest corners of our hearts where we store past pain, hurt, guilt, and shame, buried amongst those memories and hidden pieces of broken life, there are our greatest fears, our deepest longings, and the things we are truly most terrified of.

For me, that often boils down, at its core, to a fear of not being loved, not being wanted.

There's fear of failure, but that boils back down to fear of not being good enough, fear of disappointing people and not living up to their expectations. There's a thought that my behaviors and words will dictate the level at which people will care about me, that their love for me will change based on whether I was "good enough" that day, that hour, in those moments.

I'm afraid. I'm terrified.

I don't want my heart to be broken.

I don't want to love people and not be loved in return, to put effort and thought and care into friendships and be told in return, "sorry, you gave your all, you shared your heart, and it wasn't good enough."

Like so many, I fear rejection. I don't care about being a little beaten up. It's okay if more shallow friendships end, if acquaintances decide they don't like me. The outer walls of my heart can stand up to poundings from a battering ram, large boulders flung from midieval catapults.

It's the deepest parts of my heart I'm afraid to show, I'm afraid to expose myself even to the possibility.

Love is the scariest thing in the world.

But what's the solution?

I've wondered this so many times. My cynical response is simply that I shouldn't let my heart out. I'll build up walls around it and not let anyone all the way in, that way when the cannons fire and the bombs go off, I'm safe.

But if you close yourself off and protect yourself, you also stop any chance of actually loving and being loved.

Love is scary, because love isn't safe.

C.S. Lewis says it better than anyone in his book, The Four Loves,

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

To love, to love at all, is to be vulnerable.

Just as we can't live without the anatomical purpose of a heart - ya know, pumping blood and something with oxygen and veins and arteries and all of that - we can't live without love.

Animals will choose to be with a caring, comforting, maternal figure over food or water. We need love to live.

You could choose to close your heart away, lock it up, hide it behind so many walls of stone and concrete that it ceases to be a heart.

We can't live without love. It's scary, but we can't live without it, we were created to love.

And what I've realized, too, is that if my heart of hearts belongs to the right person, I can never truly be hurt.

When the deepest parts of your heart, the bits you are most afraid to let out, belong to someone who never fails, someone who will never abandon, never hurt you, then you are safe. You're safe to love uninhibited because no matter how many battering rams break through those walls, no matter how many cannons are fired, the part that is scariest to have hurt is completely safe in the hands one who will never leave.

And my heart belongs to Jesus. My truest heart is safe, because it belongs to someone who loves me more than I can ever fathom.

Love is still scary. Rejection is terrifying, I'm afraid to be hurt, afraid of not being good enough. But those fears pale in comparison to the security of True Love.

Love is scary, but its better than closing your heart off until it ceases to be a heart at all.

Loving is living, living is loving.

A yellow dress, a branded X, a hope restored

She grasped my hand and pulled me away. We couldn't understand a word the other said, but I knew she wanted me to follow her.

With gestures and Hindi words I didn't know, she showed me her world. Little huts of concrete, straw and sticks, sparsely furnished; worn clothes hung from clothes lines strung between trees. I saw the pond, if you could call it that, more piles of trash then pools of water. My sandaled feet crunching through dry earth caked with refuse.

Clinging tightly to my hand she led me to the rooms where women cooked, sewed, cleaned. She tried to teach me a few Hindi words, none of which I can remember anymore.

She put her thin arms around me, tightly wrapping them around my waist. I picked her up and carried her effortlessly on my back. She was so small, her arms and legs so thin, she seemed so frail. She couldn't have been older than 9 or ten, the same age as my baby brother.

Looking at her, the sweet innocence and childish joy, the way her big dark brown eyes sparkled when we danced to my American tunes and her Bollywood, I would never have guessed the things that had happened to her. I couldn't believe the things that had been done to all of them, to all the young girls and women there.

I was at a home in South Asia for girls and women rescued out of the sex-slave trade. I couldn't, can't, even begin to fathom the utterly unspeakable things they've had done to them, the things they've endured. Ripped from your family, forced into a life filled with fear and the knowledge men would take advantage of you over and over every day; it is a life I cannot even scratch the surface of understanding.

As we drove to the home, through the narrow dirt roads of Kolkata, I prayed.

I prayed because I anticipated it being the most difficult, heartbreaking day of my life. I prayed to see God, because I feared I would only see hurt and hopelessness.

I expected a veil of sadness deep in the eyes of the girls, whispering of the unspeakable things done to them. But the veil was gone, lifted.

I know breaks and bruises remain. Scars, brands and rough tattoos tell stories of deeper hurts than I can ever know, but it was so very clear they were all free; free from the physical bonds of slavery and from spiritual and emotional captivity.

Their pasts are darker than I can fathom. Forced to be prostitutes, raped again and again, day after day. In those darkest of dark days I'm sure they could not imagine freedom, thought they'd never see light.

But now, despite the hurt and heartbreak of slavery, what I saw most was hope. Hope because fear is gone. The veil has been lifted, they will never be taken advantage of again, the fear of being raped every single day is gone. The hopelessness of slavery has been vanquished.

I saw joy on the faces of the girls and women, because they had been rescued and redeemed.

Girls about twelve or thirteen spin around the little wooden dance platform. I joined in the dancing. We jumped and spun and twirled. My little friend tried, vainly, to teach me the Bollywood steps. We tried to ballroom dance across the wood floor, taking turns spinning each other, our skirts twirling around our ankles.

We didn't speak the same language, but it didn't matter. Gestures and smiles spoke more than I would ever have known they could.

There was so much joy in her big bright eyes. She was so, so beautiful; so full of life. All the girls were like that, beautiful and joyful, only their scars telling the stories of their abuse and abandonment.

A girl's yellow dress spun out, her bare feet pounding the wood floor. She reminded me of my younger sisters, twelve and fourteen, so young and innocent and utterly full of joy. Beside the X's branded onto her face, a whispering shadow of her past, I saw the sparkle of restored childish hope and innocence in her eyes, because she was finally free to dance and sing.

And I saw that hope on the face of my little friend, holding my hands as we danced the world into a blur.

(This was written for a journalism class, telling a story of a moment or memory that impacted or influenced my life)

Remembering the Blood

"Do this in remembrance of me." 

In church we do communion in memory and celebration of Chist's sacrifice, His body broken for us, His blood poured out. Thursday we remembered the first night Jesus commanded this, before He was betrayed and taken to be crucified. "This is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins." (Matthew 26:26-28) 

Yesterday, Good Friday, we remembered that Jesus didn't just talk about dying, He actually died. His body was broken, blood was poured out on Calvary's ground, until He cried, "It is finished" and gave up His life. He died for us, so we could "have life, and have it to the full." (John 10:10) 

The remembrance and celebration of Jesus is so much more than a small cup of grape juice and a little square cracker or pinch of bread torn from a loaf. It is so much greater than eggs dyed yellow and green, chocolate bunnies, and a few songs on Sunday morning. 

It's about the blood. It's about what the crackers and wine we so often take for granted represent. It's about the blood of the Lamb, sacrificed and crucified, covering the sins of the world. 

When the Israelites were slaves in Egypt God sent plagues to show the Pharaoh that He was God, all-powerful and all-knowing. The last of these plagues was an angel of death. The Israelites were instructed to sacrifice a lamb, pure and spotless, and paint the blood on the doorframes of their homes. Then when the angel passed over, he would see the blood and pass over that doorway, and the Lord would not permit "the destroyer" to enter into those homes and strike down the first born sons (Exodus 12:21-23). 

The blood of the lamb protected the Israelites from the angels of death. The blood acted as a covering for them, so that they were not destroyed.

Just as the Israelites were saved by the blood of a sacrificed lamb, we are saved by the blood of the Sacrificial Lamb. We're covered by the blood of Jesus Christ. His sacrifice parallels the sacrifices of so long ago, but because of Jesus, we no longer need to make atonement for our sins by sacrificing animals on an altar. Jesus gave up His life as the ultimate sacrifice, His death and resurrection acts as the mediation between us and our deep brokenness and sin and God's perfection.  

Hebrews says that Christ's blood obtained for us eternal redemption. In the Old Testament the blood of a goat or bull cleansed people outwardly. Jesus' blood, perfect and spotless and sinless, cleanses us completely, from the inside, rescuing us from death so we can serve a living God.

Jesus' blood, the blood of the Lamb, purifies us from all sin, saves us from death, redeems and restores us and allows us to be in the presence of God the Father Almighty. Priests used to have to cleanse themselves for weeks, becoming as clean and pure as possible, before they entered into the tabernacle to go before God and atone for their own sins and the sins of the people, with burnt offerings and sacrifices. 

Leviticus 17:11 says, "For the life of a creature is in the blood, and I have given it to you to make atonement for yourselves on the altar; it is the blood that makes atonement for one's life." Jesus is the burnt offering, and His blood atones for our sins, making us spotless and clean in the eyes of the Lord. We no longer need a priest to mediate for us, because Jesus acted as the Great High Priest and His death mediates for us forever, allowing us to be in the presence of God. 

In order to defeat death, without defeating us, as the wages of sin are death, God allowed the death of His very own Son. The pure, spotless, perfect lamb, sacrificed for our sins. His atoning blood covers us, so the angel of death passes over. Death is defeated, swallowed up in the victory of Jesus Christ. 

Dead Man Walking

*This is a (short) paper I wrote for my Religion and Filmmaking class on the movie Dead Man Walking. This film was a more real portrayal than any of the Christian-produced films I've ever seen, portraying Christianity, redemption and Christ's love incredibly accurately and so beautiful. And I'm not the only one who thinks that (Roger Ebert review and Charles Colson commentary). I cried so many times. Seriously, if you only see one more film for the rest of your life, this should be it. 
 -----------------

“Figures I'd have to die to find love, thank you for loving me,” says Matthew Poncelet, some of the final words of a man facing his imminent death. Dead Man Walking is a film about the death penalty, but even more so it is a film about love. It's not romantic love, dramatized and spiced up for the big screen, it is dirty, difficult, full of tears and more real than anything one could ever fabricate. It addresses Mahatma Gandhi's oft-quoted statement about Christians not acting like Jesus by showing a Christian who truly imitates Christ's love for the, by worldy standards, despicable and unloveable. Whether the makers of Dead Man Walking intended it or not, they created one of the most spiritual and truly religious films that has come out of Hollywood in a long while, possibly ever. 

 

Poncelet's opinion of religion is made clear from some of his first statements. Rolling his eyes at Sister Helen, he mentions the chaplain is a “very religious man.” Poncelet clearly expects Sister Helen to spend her time attempting to convert him. He tries to tick her off from the get-go, with his racist comments, statements about religion and prying questions about her sexual life, or lack thereof. Sister Helen's response is always seasoned with grace. At one point she tells Poncelet that she is “following the example of Jesus” and that “every person is worth more than their worst act.” These two statements are clear themes playing throughout the film as Sister Helen helps Poncelet with his appeal, and when it is denied, agrees to be his spiritual counselor during his last days. 

 

At one point she admits to a fellow Sister that she's not sure she “really likes him,” which is possibly one of the greatest understatements of the film. Dead Man Walking does a spectacular job of not creating a martyr or a victim. Matthew Poncelet is not a pitiable soul. He is actually quite despicable. His words are full of racism and hatred, he is a Nazi-wannabe spouting the superiority of the Aryan race. In addition to that, he is in prison for the brutal rape and murder of two teenagers. By every logical right, Poncelet deserves what he's getting. If anyone deserved the death penalty, it would be someone like him. But he can be saved, and this is the theme of the film, this is the theme of Sister Helen's care. Not saved like turned into a Bible-thumping Baptist spouting scripture and singing gospel hymns as the needle goes in, but saved like redeemed, acknowledging his sin and accepting the forgiveness and love that readily awaits. 

 

Charles Colson put it well in his review of the film, saying “it's through Sister Helen's eyes we are finally able to perceive Poncelet as something other than a monster, and that's what makes Dead Man Walking a profoundly Christian movie. Sister Helen insists on loving the loathsome Poncelet out of her love for Christ.” This is so true. We don't hate Poncelet, because Sister Helen doesn't hate him, and through her love, care and dedication for him we see that Jesus doesn't hate Poncelet either. Dead Man Walking shows Poncelet to still be a human being, with every capability of being saved and redeemed. The movie displays repentance and the unconditional love of Christ more clearly than probably any other film made by a non-religious filmmaker. 

 

True Christianity is about unconditional love, and that is what Sister Helen portrays. The Bible and Christianity teach that Jesus changed the world with His radical love, that Jesus' love gives people worth, and that is what is shown by Sister Helen. She loves someone who is utterly unloveable, and through that she gives a dead man worth. Popular film commentator, Roger Ebert, said, “Sister Helen is one of the few truly spiritual characters I have seen in the movies. Movies about "religion" are often only that - movies about secular organizations that deal in spirituality. It is so rare to find a movie character who truly does try to live according to the teachings of Jesus (or anyone else, for that matter) that it's a little disorienting: This character will behave according to what she thinks is right, not according to the needs of a plot, the requirements of a formula, or the pieties of those for whom religion, good grooming, polite manners and prosperity are all more or less the same thing.” The fact that Dead Man Walking is based on a true story makes it even more powerful. This is not just a commentary on the death penalty or a portrayal of how Christianity should be, it tells the story of what Christianity really is, what it truly looks like for someone to live and love like Jesus. 

 

The cinematography in Dead Man Walking is stark and truthful. During the final scene of Poncelet's life the cutting and camera shots are spectacular. As the vials slowly empty their deadly fluids into Poncelet's veins the film flashes back to the night when Poncelet and the other man rape and brutally murder the teenagers. There is no forgetting what he has done. It is horrible, reprehensible, despicable, unforgivable by any human standards. But in the midst of this knowledge of Poncelet's evil actions, Sister Helen whispers that she loves him, hand stretched towards him as she offers silent prayers to Heaven. This is the message of Dead Man Walking, that no matter what a person has done, there is grace and forgiveness for all. Dead Man Walking is one of the most spiritual and religious stories to ever come out of a non-religious film, it is about true love, forgiveness, grace, repentance and redemption, because “every person is worth more than their worst act.”

A Sour Song

 

gossip |ˈgäsəp| | noun

a) casual or unconstrained conversation or reports about other people, typically involving details that are not confirmed as being true

b) chiefly derogatory a person who likes talking about other people's private lives

c) a person who habitually reveals personal or sensational facts about others

d) rumor or report of an intimate nature

e) chatty talk 

 

Don't lie. You know you've done it. I have. We all have. "I can't believe she wore that." "Did you hear what he said?" "Did so-and-so tell you what they did?" 

It's a problem in every circle of life, lies and exaggerations consuming and destroying a person's reputation. And even if the words never reach their ears, your perception of them is marred for eternity. 

Gossiping is so bad it's listed right up there with murder, malice, and God hating in Romans 1:28-32. In Proverbs 6:16-19, there are, "six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies, and a person who stirs up conflict in the community."

There are a lot of things the Lord hates in there - pride, lying, murder - but the very last thing on the list is gossip. Why does God hate gossip and slander so much? 

Of course, it isn't nice to talk badly about people. But what's the root of that? Why is it so harmful, so detestable? Especially if the person never even knows you were talking about them behind their back...what's the harm? 

It isn't loving. 

Gossiping isn't loving. 

In Matthew 22:37-39, Jesus tells us the greatest commandments are to, "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind,' and 'love your neighbor as yourself.'"

 

We are called to love one another, and gossiping, quite frankly, is the antithesis of loving. 

 

Ephesians 4:15-16 tells us we are to speak the truth in love and respect one another. Love builds up the body of Christ, of which we are all a part. Gossip tears it down, infiltrating the bonds of love and community with poisonous vapors of malice and contempt. 

We watched a lot of Veggie Tales when I was growing up. One particularly epic and relevant tale was LarryBoy and the Rumor Weed. The years have blurred my exact memories of the story, but I remember the basics pretty well. Someone tells a rumor (gossips), and what starts as a small, seemingly innocent, little plant becomes a giant monstrous weed that begins to take over the city with lies and deceit. 

That's how gossip is. It grows and grows, and ultimately there is nothing innocent, and definitely not loving or caring, that comes out of such action. 

Gossip hurts others, it isn't loving or kind. But even if gossiping didn't hurt another soul, it would still be wrong. Philippians 4:8 says, "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." Gossiping isn't noble, lovely, praiseworthy. It doesn't honor God, respect others, or further the Kingdom. 

But it is oh-so-tempting. I know, I fall prey to the temptation to gossip far more often than I'd like to admit. There are so many times I have to go back to my friends later and say, "I'm sorry. I was gossiping with you." "I drew you into talking badly about that person." "I shouldn't have told you that, that wasn't my business." 

It's not just detrimental to the person I'm talking about. By the grace of God I don't think much of my gossip has gotten back to people. My words change how I see people, and it changes how the people I'm talking to see people as well. 

Last year I had an experience that really showed me the true harm of gossiping. I was actually on the receiving end of the gossip, my friends didn't realize I was in the room, and their words and judgements were incredibly hurtful. I have to say, however, that despite this being an experience that brought many tears and great pain, I am so glad it happened. 

 

I had a moment where I thought to myself, "this is what it feels like." And then a massive realization, that's what I do to people. When I'm talking about people behind their backs, that's what I'm doing. I know what it feels like. I know the pain gossip causes, how can I do that to another person? 

But deeper than this realization is a question, why do we gossip? Why do I gossip?

Gossiping stems from so many things. 

One is not valuing people the way we should, not seeing them as image bearers of Christ. Everyone is made in the image of God, everyone is deeply, passionately loved by the Heavenly Father. It's a beautiful realization that completely changes one's perspective. If everyone is important, worthy, and loved, then how can we think and speak so poorly of people? 

I am no better, and no worse, than anyone else in the eyes of God. He loves everyone the same today, yesterday, and forever. My interaction with other humans should reflect this, I should love everyone because Christ loves me and loves them. 

Another cause of gossiping is jealousy. We put people down because we are insecure around them, jealous of them, their abilities or qualities make us feel inadequate. An example of this, particularly common in girls, I think, is judging and comparing to other girls' appearances, or putting down other girls based on their physical attributes. We do this to make ourselves feel better. If someone else has a bigger butt, worse hair, a bad sense of style, it makes us feel better about our own qualities we're insecure about. 

How silly of us! Does putting Jane Doe down really make me feel better? Maybe for a few, shallow seconds. And even if, on a surface level, it makes us feel better...there are deeper issues. 

This insecurity that plagues our thoughts and actions has a darker root. This insecurity lies in not trusting God, in God not being enough. 

I say this because it is a common theme of my own life. Constantly I find myself seeking to be enough, striving to be big and strong. I know God is enough. 

 

I trust God. But sometimes believing is different than knowing, and while I know factually that God is greater than any other, stronger and more loving and powerful than I can even begin to fathom, my heart doesn't believe it, my actions don't reflect my head knowledge. 

We gossip because we aren't letting God be bigger, stronger, or enough. It makes us feel better in a small, in-the-moment sort of way. Not trusting God is the root of our sins, and even deeper than that is the sin of trying to be our own God, because we don't believe God is enough. 

But as Christians we are called to find our strength and our salvation in Someone greater than ourselves. God is our strength, He is our song. 

When we are filled with Jesus, focusing all our attention on Him, the other things in life don't matter as much, until finally they don't matter at all. Romans 8:31 is the perfect reminder that God is for us. And if God is for us, who can be against us? We don't need to gossip when God is enough, when He is our strength. 

 

Recently, Psalms has been a huge encouragement to me. There are so many verses speaking the truth of God's strength, reminding us we are not alone and our refuge is in Him. He is our help, our comfort, our friend. When God is for us, who can be against us, "what can mortal man do to me?" Psalms 56:4 asks. Psalm 34 encourages us to pursue peace, and reminds us that the Lord will deliver us from all our troubles and fears as we rest in Him. 

Psalm 46:1-3 reads:

¹ God is our refuge and strength,
    an ever-present help in trouble.
² Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
    and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
³ though its waters roar and foam
    and the mountains quake with their surging.

 

When our security is found in Him and we can see other people as He sees them, the way we interact with people changes from needing to prove and fulfill ourselves, to simply loving others.

 

 

Mostly Coasting

This summer I wrote a blog post about running the race of life. I explained that I want my run with Jesus to be a full-on sprint, running my hardest, giving my all. Not saving any strength or energy for the end, but relying on Jesus to give me strength when I have none (which is often). Often the analogy for this race involves arriving at the end utterly spent, having done and given everything, not capable of running a moment more and that's when you reach the end of the road. But I said I don't want that, because if I arrive at the end of this journey fully spent, then I'm still relying in my own strength, in my own understanding. I want it to be a roller coaster ride. Up, down, around, speeding in towards Jesus on His strength, not my own.

And this morning, I had a moment of realization...I don't want to run anymore. I'm ready to coast.

Not coasting like sailing by easily doing as little work as possible. Coasting like when you're flying down a hill on your bike, lifting your hands and feet from pedals and handlebars. Wind rushing through your outstretched fingers, whipping through your hair flying like a cloak behind you.

I'm ready to stop running, to stop relying on my own strength at all, to surrender completely to God, and ride the roller coaster.

It's no normal roller coaster, because the rails are invisible. There are ups and downs, and sometimes it just feels like we're falling. Those moments when your stomach drops and it feels like you're speeding down with nothing to stop you, nothing to catch you.

Sometimes it's hard to trust, hard to rely. It feels like there is nothing catching you, because the rails don't seem to be there and the feeling of falling is so real. But it is, He is. And slowly you start to realize that in those moments it felt like falling, when everything seemed dark, like your world was coming apart bit by bit, person by person, you were never falling. You were never alone.

And so slowly you learn to rest, rely, trust, abide. Even when you can't see Him, when it feels like He isn't there, God never leaves. And when you're surrounded in pitch blackness, your world is plummeting down, you can know and believe that He is always there, He never leaves your side.

I'm ready to just ride the roller coaster, resting fully in Jesus' strength, trusting Him through ups and downs, swirling around and upside-down, speeding on towards home.

Faultless Faithfulness for Flawed, Fickle Me

Man. God is so faithful, and I am so broken, and He is so incredible.

Seriously, though. I am one of the most fickle, unfaithful people ever. For all my talk of wanting to trust God unconditionally, for the literally hundreds of times He has shown me my need to surrender to Him, to abide in Him, I still lean on my self. I still try to do things myself.

I pray, I plead, I beg, then I barter, I try to make deals, and finally I just try to do it myself, without really giving God the chance to do anything.

But God is so good to be faithful and always answer prayers. It's amazing. He is so loving, so good, so kind, so compassionate, so merciful, so graceful. And me? I'm so broken, so messy, and so blessed to be shown it again and again so I can continue to see the amazing nature of God's unconditional love.

God really showed me that today, my astounding lack of faith in His plan and power.

On Tuesday I finally had a little free time and was able to call my mom. We talked about life for a bit, and then she told me some not super thrilling news.

My dad works for a very small construction company, of which he is the Construction Project Manager. It doesn't pay super well since it's a small company that isn't doing too well at the moment, but it's enough to scrape by, until now. As one of the managers he has been on a salary, but the company is doing badly enough that he just got moved to an hourly wage, and isn't being called into work very often. In fact, last week, he only worked one day. With a family of eight and a good number of various medical issues, plus insurance, food, and bills, that's a pretty bad situation.

Of course my response was to pray about it, as well as asking a number of friends and my church community to pray as well.

I found myself, however, as people asked me if I'd heard anything, thinking to myself, "of course not...it's too soon for anything to have happened. God doesn't work that fast." Like God works on a schedule or something, like He can only do things over a long period of time, like He can't work miracles or something crazy like that.

And to be perfectly honest, as I was praying about this today, I finally realized I had a lot of doubt. I talked to God about it.

I think my prayer went something vaguely along the lines of, "God. To be honest right now, I know you can do anything. I really do trust that. And I know it, I believe it. But I'm having a hard time thinking you actually will. Believing you actually will. Like I know you can get Dad a job in a second, but I don't expect you to find him one. And I don't know why that is. And I don't want to be that way, but that's where I am right now."

Instead of believing God's good will be positive (by my perception), somehow I assume it will be negative (again by my perceptions as a broken person). Wait...what? Why am I like that?

I've seen God's faithfulness time and time again, yet my fickle little heart still assumes it's all on my shoulders, rather than placing it in god's hands and totally surrendering before even trying to do it myself.

Prayer should be my first step, not my backup plan.

But here's the incredible part: despite my inability to trust, God is still faithful to "meet all your my needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:19)

I called my mom again today (I love getting out of class early and super long walks from the Mass Comm building, aka the ends of the DU earth) and asked her about Dad's job situation and how it was going. And wouldn't ya know? He's got an interview tomorrow! 

I was floored. Astonished. Overjoyed. Astounded at God's awesomeness. How great is our God? 

It's not a forsure job or anything, but it's a really good sign, and totally a God thing too that he got the interview in the first place. 


God is so good, even in my weak, doubting, sinful moments. I'm so thankful for a faithful and loving God, because I am such a mess.