Tag Archives: hope

In The Meantime…

Featured

Posted by in Reflections

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

(Been pretty quiet here. Just a lot to process. Still struggling to find words, but…}

I’ve been conflicted for some time now…years, probably. Over and over, talking to people and realising that their Jesus and mine isn’t the same…that their Jesus sounds like an absolute monster and I get why they would walk away. And then I wonder if I am just part of the problem…with my inconsistencies and fears, my not wanting to offend/hurt people, not wanting to be yet another voice in the chaos–claiming to be representing God. I just…dunno.

No one has been kinder to me than the Lord. No other love has so pursued me when I’ve run away, been so patient with and through my sin, so calmed me on days when I want to bang my head against a wall until it bursts, so listened to my fears, so let me be my weird self, called me out of darkness and despair…I don’t quite have words. I just know this song says so much of what I’ve been struggling with for years.

Also? Benjamin Hastings is a genius.

The Power of Weakness (Repost)

04 Wednesday Aug 2021

Posted by in Reflections

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

I’ve been pretty quiet here. Just too much to process, I guess. When I thought about what to possibly say, I realised I had already said it…in 2012. Here goes:

What do you do when you get to the end of yourself? What will it take to get you there?

It’s funny how I’ll know something is true, but spend years denying it. I know I can’t be trusted. As much as I appear to have it together on some levels, there’s just something in me that tends towards my own destruction–gleefully.

Even knowing that I can’t be trusted to do something as simple as brush my teeth every night or take a shower every day (most days, though. Teehee), I still want to get things right. I want to be strong enough to resist the things I know I should stay away from. Why? Because I know I should stay away from them. I want to not do what I know is wrong. I want to be strong, but I’m not. I’m terribly, terribly weak.

Not only am I frail beyond my own comprehension, I also delight in things I ought not to. No matter how I try to deny it, no matter how I take refuge in the illusion of improvement, this is who I am.

But, this is good news–excellent, even. I can’t make myself different. There isn’t going to come a day when my desires will suddenly line up with military precision to the standards of morally acceptable conduct. There won’t be a day when I wake up loving God above all, and hating sin (general or specific) to the point of utter repulsion. It’s just not coming.

It doesn’t need to.

See, when I stopped trying to fix myself, and just embraced the reality that I am truly wicked, I had to fall on God’s mercy. All these things I ought not to do will never fade by human effort. Only God can change me. God, who loves me as I am, just wants me to look into His eyes and give myself to Him, wretch that I am. That is where the fullness of joy comes from…from seeing God and knowing He is Love…from facing the reality of my own brokenness and the incomparable greatness of the God who makes all things new.

So, what’s your story, your “struggle”? I won’t say it doesn’t matter, but it is not the hindrance you may think it is. God knew us in advance, and He chose us. He saw that we’d fail, saw that we’d watch pornography, have sex when we shouldn’t, have homosexual desires, have abortions, kill, rape, steal, hate, lie…saw that we’d willingly and gladly worship all but Him. He saw that, and He loved us…still loves us.

He saw us, and He chose us…He delights in us through Jesus, as we are.

Let’s just be honest with ourselves. We’re not gonna beat those things, and the sooner we face it, the better. God longs to bring us to Him, to transform us as we fix our eyes on Him. He is the goal, not acceptable behaviour. Let’s be honest with God. Let’s be honest with each other. We suck, and it’s okay.

I dare you. Open up to God. Open up to someone about your struggles, someone who will pray with and for you…someone who will love on you. See where it leads.

Perhaps the first step to freedom is facing the power of our own weakness.


Update
This song (sheer genius) is one of my recent obsessions:

A Crisis Of Faith (Part 1 of…?)

30 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by in Reflections

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

Eighteen years. That’s a long time to be anything, especially a Christian. For the better part of those eighteen years, I was in an environment that encouraged my faith, and made it possible for me to develop an identity that wasn’t rooted in meaningless religious exercise. I was never taught that my faith made me a better person than those who didn’t share it. As a result of that faith, I developed a worldview founded upon the indisputable value of each person, and tried to live accordingly, though not perfectly.

Over the past eighteen months, I have been caught in a struggle. I don’t consider myself to be what I call an obnoxious Christian, so I don’t believe in shoving my faith in people’s faces or down their throats. Some may see this as being ashamed of being a Christian, but I honestly don’t see what in mainstream (Western) Christianity merits such pride. More importantly, I could not see what in my own life was worth being proud of.

I have moved from a safe faith environment to one that doesn’t readily seem to offer any place for the faith that has moulded so much of who I am. Thankfully, I am surrounded by some of the most amazing people I have ever known, but that encouragement in matters of faith has been missing. Some of these people don’t even see God as worthy of the least significance. Does that make them bad people? Definitely not. But, it made me have to step back and view my faith through different eyes. This place has done more than challenge me–it has revealed the absence of a living faith.

I was (and, in many ways, still am) in possession of a faith that had yet to transcend my intellect and make its way into my heart. You see, I fully believe in all Jesus has done for me, but I had closed my heart to what He wants to do in me. I had woefully neglected to live out the very principles I claimed to hold dear. It took being away from the comforts of home for me to truly appreciate that my faith is worthless if it does not lead to a transformed heart. If I am not growing in my love towards people, if I deny others the same grace gladly extended to me, if I am not kind in the way I think about others, then how am I being Christian (like Christ)?

Now, I’m in a vulnerable spot–and vulnerability is not my strong suit. Surrounded by people who have accepted me, but appear to have little use for my Christ, all my inconsistencies are out in the open. To be honest, this is exactly what I needed…not a faith I can hide behind, but one that calls me to true love and openness.

It’s so ironic that it took being away from my Christian circle to reveal the deficiencies in my faith, but I’m grateful and humbled. Grace has found me in this place, and I trust it to lead me home.

 If the faith I claim to hold has not taken hold of me, it is less than genuine…and so am I.

A Lot Like Dying…

13 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by in Reflections

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

When I first thought of this post three months ago, my aim was to highlight the beauty of life…just the gift that each moment (crazy and otherwise) is. Moving from home made me realise the impact my absolutely boring life had on so many people I hold dear, and it hit me: people would miss me if I died. I am by no means unique in that regard, so, as is the case with most of my ‘light bulb’ moments, my mind penned a post. And then life happened.

It shouldn’t be possible for so much to change in 90 days. Then again, maybe nothing changed, and that is the problem. I don’t know, but I think we all have at least one thing that, if it were different, we’re convinced we would be different. Whereas I didn’t blame my environment for the scary creature I was, part of me retained the hope that a change of environment would lead to the blossoming of a better Lori. I’m not known for my optimism, so this ‘better Lori’ was pretty basic. You know, maybe just a few notches below ‘normal, functioning human being’.

Funny enough, so many things in my life are finally going right. I am closer than ever to financial independence (however real that struggle is), I have access to the resources I need to get my health on track, I finally have the time and space to get to know myself and God again, and I’ve met some awesome people. What could go wrong?

Deception is a bittersweet poison. I knew better, but I really thought I could get my act together. That act needs to be abandoned. I am never going to be some new and improved version of myself, because I can never outrun the kind of propensity for self-destruction that composes the fibre of who I am. No amount of effort will disguise the stench of death that clings to me…that I cling to. I am never, no matter how fit I get, going to outrun myself.

I have the things I thought I would never have, a life I can finally enjoy, yet I have never felt closer to death. This is the truth I must own–that, even at my best, I’ll do my worst. Seems that should have me running to the Saviour.

‘Cause I am a sinner
If it’s not one thing, it’s another
Caught up in words
Tangled in lies
You are the Saviour
And You take brokenness aside
And make it beautiful.

“Brokenness Aside” by All Sons and Daughters
Words and music by Leslie Jordan and David Leonard
© 2011 Integrity Music
CCLI#: 5881109

Hypocrite?

19 Wednesday Mar 2014

Posted by in Reflections

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

For some time now, I’ve been wondering what would happen if people dared to be honest. See, I like to think I’m honest, but I doubt I am. I see relatively clearly, and I tend to say it as I see it, but if my innate dishonesty hobbles my capacity for objective sight, what’s the point? 

I think I’m a hypocrite…most days, anyway. Can any other label be as fitting when I face a world I have no desire to even be in? When God’s name flows so easily in conversation, but there seems to be no place for Him in my heart? When I tell myself this will pass, because it has passed before? The fact is, each step of this tortuous dance is familiar, yet I will not end it. Because I’m a hypocrite.

There is much to be said for the comfort of a cyclic existence, even with the overhanging knowledge that there is an end, and a rather unpleasant one at that. Knowing better awaits us outside of our self-constructed prisons rarely serves as motivation to break free. If you’re me, motivation does not make a habit of presenting itself. I’d rather tell myself I need to change than actually take steps in that direction. Because I’m a hypocrite.

Enthralled witness to my own demise, the question of an exit strategy arises. As much as I possess an intellectual hold on grace, I’m not very good at facing it. Grace exposes the liar in me. It tells me I will fail, but empowers me not to. It reveals my intrinsic unlovableness, yet lavishes upon me a love so independent and ferocious, I instinctively flee from it. I refuse to take hold of the redemption I so readily remind others of. Because I’m a hypocrite.

Perhaps it is the admission of hypocrisy that leads to its end.

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

– “O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go” (George Matheson, 1882)

Solitaire?

08 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by in Le Shrinking, Reflections

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

I’m the only one who can live my life.

That has got to be the scariest thing I’ve thought about in a long while. Whereas it’s indisputable that I’m, at heart, a loner, there’s phantom comfort in knowing that looking around does not yield a barren landscape. I’m so used to living on the fringes of my world (my sister would say the problem is that I have a world…:P) that I don’t often spend time in it. The price paid for that tends to be total disrepair.

Change is hard…and I have to change. As great and supportive as people are/can be, and as grateful as I am for the amazing people in my life, no one can do this for me. No one can hold my hand through the process of learning to breathe…not to the point that they can make me function in ways I refuse to. No one can make me get up one day and decide to do more than take fleeting glances at what it means to live. I want no one to.

I’ve never been that person who can’t be alone, who doesn’t know the value of silence, who finds the company of self to be petrifying. In the same breath, the alternative leaves me most out of my depth. This is who I am. Just a weirdo trying to glean lessons without having to be knocked senseless first. I’m no superhero. I’m not even a real person most days, but I’d like to think I’m learning what that looks like.

This is who I am…and I embrace that fully, remaining cognizant of the reality that I am not static. I will not always be this person, but if I don’t engage in the process, I may not like the person I become.

I’m the only one who can live my life. And, I will.

Thus says the Lord God to these bones: ‘Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. And I will lay sinews upon you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live, and you shall know that I am the Lord.’

Ezekiel 37:5, 6 (ESV)
The Holy Bible, English Standard Version Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers.

Sabotage

17 Wednesday Apr 2013

Posted by in Reflections

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

Fear is one of those things I don’t process well. I just don’t have many active fears. I have huge categories of fears, and then they morph into…aversions. 😛 Weird as it sounds, I think I have an aversion to “good”. As soon as my life begins to look up, as soon as I begin to make smart choices, something in me retaliates by finding the quickest way to sabotage it.

I think this would be easier to handle if it were deliberate. It is so intrinsic and so entrenched in the essence of Lori that I very often don’t see it outside of the lens of retrospect. But, I see it now. I’ve seen it before. And, I can’t change it. Maybe that’s what I need to embrace. Left up to my own devices, all I can do is kill myself, succeed only in depriving my soul of one breath at a time.

And, you know, part of me says this shouldn’t be so. I mean, I’m smart enough (I reckon), I’ve known God long enough, I have enough amazing people in my life for this to not be who and what I revert to with such ease. I know God saw this–saw me–coming, and still chose me. Gladly. He didn’t choose me to remain as I am, though. He chose me to remain in Him. But, I don’t…won’t?

Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s the same plight plaguing all of humanity — that innate core of rebellion against the Creator. Whatever the case, I can’t keep living as if God is a liar…as if the life He offers is somehow on a plane that ought not to impact and define my everyday life. I cannot persist in the distorted reality I call ‘grace’, for if grace were seen correctly, if grace were my reality, would it not spur me on to abundance of life? To obedience? My head gets grace, but my heart? Well, that story is perhaps best left untold.

So, why continue to kill saplings of anything good and beautiful in my life? Why act as if my worth is such that I’m most content within the confines of Suckville? Why, if I love myself as much as I’m convinced I do, won’t I give myself the best possible chance at life? Or, any chance, for that matter?

I can’t be alone in this…well, I hope not. Undoubtedly, I’m extreme, but there are elements of sabotage in each of us. How easily we tend towards our own destruction. Overcoming that tendency may lie outside of our reach, but there’s nothing to stop us from embracing it…and giving it to the Only One who can make us into what we were designed to be.

O Israel, you have destroyed yourself; but in Me is your help. I will be your king: where is any other that may save you…?

Hosea 13:9, 10 (KJV [paraphrased])

My Jorge, one of the best friends a Lori could ask for, gave me this song. (Fine, her name is Georgia…and how much I love her? No words…) Like, she’s all sunshine, rainbows, and pink rooms sometimes, and I kinda thought the song was along those lines, but it’s…sneaky. Maybe it’ll sneak up on you, too. 

Waiting for “The One”

23 Saturday Mar 2013

Posted by in Le Shrinking, Reflections

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , , ,

You know, despite my sometimes realistic (fine, cynical) outlook, it seems the major part of me is still waiting for “the one”. Now, before some people fall off their chairs, let’s clear this up. We are by no means referring to this one person who is supposed to complete me (*ick*). Not only does no such person exist outside of the fertile ground of the imagination, that is too great a burden to place on anyone’s shoulders. But, we digress…

One of the promises I made in my last blog was that I’d stop lying to myself. Facing the truth is…more difficult than my vocabulary would permit me to express. It seems I’m still waiting for this one great thing that will change me…in ways that the combined efforts of the events of the past 27 years have been unable to.

(The above paragraphs were written on March 4. I’m not even sure why I didn’t finish.) This has been a better week than most, thanks to the sheer grace of God, which led to my admission that all I can do is fail. Like, I’m not sure whether other people have such limitations, but I. Rather. Suck. I mean, I’ll know I have things to do and, if I can’t be bothered, I won’t do them. I’ll know what I should do to improve my health, and just not do it. A fear of negative consequences has never been one of the driving forces of my life. If I’m honest, I’ll say I have no driving forces. See why I need Jesus? Teehee.

But, yes, this week has been good. I’ve been productive, disciplined, wise about my health, and I’ve even been nice to people. That, however, has evaporated, man. I’m just not capable of sustaining all that. I don’t have to–easily the best news ever. Yes, I’m still doing those things ±being-nice-to-people, but I constantly need the reminder that there is no great “one”. No one verse of Scripture that will so challenge my heart that I will turn from the wicked ways I’ve made my refuge…no one song that will so galvanise my soul that I will begin to care…no one teaching, camp, gathering, person, decision, act of the human will with sufficient potency to change the very me that is.

“The one” is both not coming and already here. Maybe “the one” isn’t an isolated act, but a series. Maybe it is not that epic moment, but those tiny moments that shape the fabric of humanity as gently and indelibly as water shapes rock. Maybe it is one day at a time, one moment at a time, one breath at a time, all fueled by grace.

Seems to me God has a plan. HE calls us. He calls us to Him; He says all we need to do is come. God doesn’t need an outline of how we’re proposing to be true to Him in the future. We don’t need to impress Him with our reliability–as if we could. Salvation is a gift, not a loan. We need only to accept His gift and live in, and by, His power to please Him. 

I know not where the future leads. Honestly, based on the mural presented by the past and present, I’d rather not know. What I know is I have today. We have today. We have joys and tears, strengths and failings, and all the other contrasts that make us human. And we have the One who saw us coming. The One who made us, knowing full well how much we would fail, how much we would need Him. And still made us, still loves us. Still delights in us.

We have the God who is Love, the only “One” worth waiting for.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

— “Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing” (Robert Robinson, 1758)

Skip A Few

12 Tuesday Mar 2013

Posted by in Le Shrinking, Reflections

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

“One. two, skip a few…ninety-nine, a hundred.”

That takes me right back to my childhood and games of hide-and-seek with those creative, borderline unscrupulous individuals who just wouldn’t be nice and decent and just count properly! 🙂 That aside, that silly little song has come in so handy over the years. Unknown to most of the population, whenever “One, two, skip a few…or a lot” or some variation of that features as my Facebook status, it’s my little way of giving myself a heads-up…that I’ve skipped more breaths than is safe.

I often question the existence of my soul (in a purely non-theological fashion). It is as if basic, human elements that function for other people don’t function for me. I used to have them, until the expedient nature of checking out of the human race revealed itself most clearly. I was fine, until I realised I wasn’t.

Very few things touch me deeply enough for me to remember that I may/used to have a soul. Most days, I’m okay with that. Recently, though, it’s as if I’ve been stuck in neutral, or on some nebulous plane that allows me to stand outside of myself and behold the unfolding horror. My mind registers the horror, but nothing responds inside me. Whatever passes for my soul forgets to breathe.

Sometimes, all I need is a good reminder. My sister posted a song I’d heard before, but forgotten how much I’d liked it.  A song so beautifully human. Soul-deep.

According to the lovely folks at Wikipedia, “the song asks the fortunate to consider the plight of the less fortunate”. The writer died at the age of 37, and it makes me wonder how he managed to live so much life in such a short time, for such words can come from nothing but the power of the human experience. Over 150 years later, that power prevails.

It feels strange to share something that so deeply connects with me, but I’d consider it an honour if you would listen to this song. Thank you.

 

“Hard Times Come Again No More” [Stephen Foster (1826-1844)]

Let us pause in life’s pleasures and count its many tears
While we all sup sorrow with the poor
There’s a song that will linger forever in our ears;
Oh, hard times come again no more

Chorus
‘Tis the song, the sigh of the weary
Hard times, hard times come again no more
Many days you have lingered
Around my cabin door
Oh, hard times come again no more

While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay
There are frail forms fainting at the door
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say;
Oh, hard times come again no more

‘Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave
‘Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore
‘Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
Oh, hard times come again no more

Saying Goodbye

07 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by in Le Shrinking, Reflections

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

Not too long ago, I said goodbye to what was easily my favourite television show. Granted, I do not watch much TV, but it was the first show in a long time to really engage me. It was simply brilliant, which usually means cancellation is only a matter of time, but it was fun while it lasted.

The thing is, I’m not that great at goodbyes. Sure, I’m not one of those clingers, but I’d probably prefer if some things didn’t have to end. Still, goodbyes can be good, and the time has come to bid farewell:

To the pursuit of perfection. I said in a previous post that “For all my talk of not caring, I’m a bit of a paradoxical perfectionist. I’d rather do nothing, than not give something my best (very often, an unrealistic best).” Even if failure is assured, I should still try, for therein lies the true test of what is inside me. 

To the idea that my life is somehow ruined because the past ten years quite drastically diverged from the path projected by the first seventeen. This is where and who I am. I am not an unfortunate tale, not a mass of one “if only” after another. Everyone’s story is different and, ideal or not, I fully embrace this as mine. And you know what? For the first time in maybe forever, I’m excited to see where the road will lead.

To the lies I’m so famous for telling myself. As much as the dark has been my refuge, it makes no sense to keep hiding. God is Light; there is no darkness in Him. Sunrise follows sunset, and I’ve chosen to stay hidden in shadow because it is comfortable. Content to remain in the prison of the familiar, I’ve dropped out of the human race, but no more.

To the belief that I can do this. Maybe other people can, but I can’t–not of my own strength, anyway. I’m much too passive to take life by the reins and send it where I want it to go. I have no trail to blaze; no frontier to claim. I possess no grand dreams of changing the world; no great mark to etch on the surface of history. What I do have is a Saviour who makes all things new; a God who delights in redeeming those who can do nothing but fail. I have friends–amazing ones–and family…people who care, and that rocks.

All I have is grace…and that’s enough.

Our humanity is the perfect canvas on which to display the masterpiece of God’s Divinity.

An amazing young lady I know wrote this song. It has this irksome way of teasing my soul into the light, but I reckon that is a good thing. May God continue to bless you, Sasha.