Tag Archives: life

Skip A Few

12 Tuesday Mar 2013

Posted by in Le Shrinking, Reflections

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“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

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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.

I Tell Myself…

07 Friday Dec 2012

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…what I want to hear…and then I tell myself I don’t want to hear it. By then, it’s already too late, and I’ve managed only to dig myself deeper into this hole I tell myself I want to come out of.

…what I don’t want to hear, and then I use it as an excuse to not do anything about it…”Oh, at least I know what the problem is”, and then I tell myself that’s progress.

…that I’m changing, perhaps finally growing up. After all, if I can perceive the lies I tell myself, it must mean I’m moving in the right direction.

…that I’ll never change, and this growing up thing is yet another doomed seed planted in the fertile soil that functions as my imagination. After all, if I can perceive the lies I tell myself, yet hold on to them, it must mean I am even more of a moron than I thought.

…to hope and dream. How else will my soul catch those much-needed breaths? Of all the things I tell myself, this is perhaps my least favourite.

…not to hope and dream. How else will my heart remain in the seclusion that guarantees my sanity? Of all the things I tell myself, this is perhaps the most dangerous…

…I love You, and then I tell myself I’m wrong.

…I don’t love You, and then I tell myself all the reasons I must be right.

…to shut up, for it is long overdue.

…to talk to You…and that just may be the best thing I tell myself.

Thus says the Lord:“The people who survived the sword Found grace in the wilderness—Israel, when I went to give him rest.”

The Lord has appeared of old to me, saying: “Yes, I have loved you with an everlasting love, therefore with lovingkindness I have drawn you.

Jeremiah 31:2, 3 (NKJV)

The Holy Bible, New King James Version Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc.

The Power of Weakness

03 Wednesday Oct 2012

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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.

The Days Add Up

25 Wednesday Jul 2012

Posted by in Reflections, Uncategorized

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I’m back home. Been here for eight full days. I was out of the country for almost one hundred days, and if I learned anything, it’s that the days add up.

I went to St. Lucia with every intention of changing, inside and out, but it took me the better part of three months to see that I had already changed. It was so easy to think I was unpleasant in reaction to my often annoying family (love you guys! :P), as opposed to unpleasant, full stop. Too easy to think I was too tired or busy (or idle) to talk to God, rather than admitting my heart was nowhere near Him. Too easy to admit a problem and tack on an external “because”, rather than admitting responsibility for where I was in life.

For the first time in my 15 years as a Christian, it became difficult to talk to God. I had more free time than I knew what to do with, no children to look after, no one to annoy me (during my sister’s work hours, that is…once she got home… :D), and lots of space. Still, having devotions was a struggle. Sure, I’d skipped devotions before, sometimes for days, but I’d never before felt as if I were just going through the motions.

It didn’t hit me until close to the end of my time there that the consequences of sin are often not what we think they are. Sin is degenerative. However “little” or “big”,  it costs us. Like, Jesus and I were cool, and I knew He wasn’t holding my actions against me, but I didn’t understand that they were changing me.

Sometimes, we get so caught up in how much God hates sin that we forget it is linked to His love for us. He knows what sin does to us. He knows it leads only to death. He knows the death is often slow and escapes our notice. It’s for our own good. Think about it: how does God benefit from us not sinning? He doesn’t. He’s still God, anyway, but there’s no doubt that our lives are better when we live God’s way. So, it’s not that God warns us from sin so that He will love us, but because He loves us. 

I have a huge collection of “little” sins and a few “big” ones. Even though I know there’s no ranking system where this is concerned, I tell myself it’s not such a big deal. But, you know something? These not-so-big deals kill us…one day at a time. One day at a time, my heart drifted from Him…and I didn’t even notice. For the most part, I was quite fine…happy, even. That’s the scary part.

Thankfully, the days add up for the better as well. When I, by His strength, fought through and spent the time I needed to with Him, the distance gradually decreased…until I ran away again. But, it screams hope. One day at a time, one situation at a time, we make choices that either lead us to or away from God. Nothing’s neutral. Anything that isn’t helping us draw closer to God is pulling us away. We may never have one huge consequence, but there are worse things. For too many of us, the price is our affection for God.

Is anything or anyone worth that? The reality of our choices often reveals that question is nowhere near as rhetorical as we think it is.

Accepting the reality of our sinfulness means accepting our authentic self. Judas could not face his shadow; Peter could. The latter befriended the impostor within; the former raged against him.

       – Brennan Manning

But we must…

05 Saturday Nov 2011

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Sometimes, there are no words… other times, you must bleed through your fingers, turning black and white to red… depending on how normal you are, sometimes you cry, and only those saline streams form an effective outlet.

Still, sometimes, nothing works.

Nothing works, and all you can do is take one tortured breath after another. Repeat.
No pause.
No stop.
Repeat…

How do you stop your heart from becoming one huge callus? You can’t change the pain, so the answer must be to change the heart… to shut it down, so it registers no sensation, be it pain or pleasure. Life sucks… sometimes. What can we do about it, really?

I dare to suggest that maybe the point isn’t to change life, but to BE CHANGED by the tide of trials and the fires of agony… to allow the God who is with us when we pass through the fire to watch over us as He refines us into vessels that please Him. Either life is some twisted cosmic game, or God has a plan. A good plan. A plan to prosper us, and not to harm us. A plan to give us a hope and a future. A plan for us to cry out to Him, pray to Him, seek Him, find Him, and be FOUND IN HIM.

Life stinks… but we must believe. We must believe that the God who is Love has not deserted us, even when other ‘loves’ have.
Love hurts… but we must recall the goodness of the God who takes the time to number the hairs on our heads, because He’s either an obsessive compulsive or He really does care about us.
We bleed… but we must call on the mercy of the God who heals, the God who makes alive the dead.
We fail… but we must fall on the grace of the God whose strength is perfect in our weakness…we must fall on His grace, thus learning to stand.
The fire may not cease… but we must believe that God is able to deliver us, and even if He doesn’t, we must believe that He will never desert us.
There are things we will never understand this side of heaven… but we must run to God…with our tears, our sorrows, our questions, our joys…with everything.

How easy it is to forget the goodness of God in a world where life is one heartache after another… a world in which we see death, sickness, starving children, injustice, and every horror imaginable. We may not be able to change the things around us, but we must allow God’s love to change us, and we’ll find that we’re already making a difference, simply by being different.

God is good. Say it. Remember it. Believe it. We are still here. We have life in Jesus, the Christ, the Son of the Living God. We have hope. God has not forgotten us.

God is Love.

Lamentations 3 (NKJV [mostly :P])

17 You have moved my soul far from peace; I have forgotten prosperity.
18 And I said, “My strength and my hope have perished from the LORD.”
19 Remember my affliction and roaming, the wormwood and the gall.
20 My soul still remembers and sinks within me.
21 This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope.
22 It is because of the LORD’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.
23 They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness.
24 “ The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “ Therefore I hope in Him!”
25 The LORD is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him
26 It is good that one should hope and wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.