Mock

He mocks proud mockers

but gives grace to the humble.

-Proverbs 3:34

I have got to get a grip on this. Comparing myself to others to find worth is just not worth it. Not worth the pride and temporary ego boost if I consider myself to come out on top; not worth the self-defeat and worthlessness that results from finding myself sub-par. Either way it is so totally ungraceful. And grace is something I'm in great need of. I'm not always aware of it. But God, here I am, back in the market. Because it is exhausting to be so unfulfilled--unfulfilled when I meet people's standards and unfulfilling when I don't. Chuck Swindoll says I can anticipate four things as I get a firmer grasp on grace:

1. To gain a greater appreciation for God's gifts to you and others

2. To spend less time and energy critical of and concerned about others' choices

3. To be more tolerant and less judgmental

4. To take a giant step toward maturity

... wouldn't it be nice?

Molding

It takes a lot of work. Especially when the playdoh is dry and crusty. It tears easily, is hard to flatten, and a nuisance to work with. As I watched the two year old I babysit work with his temperamental dough, I thought about how frustrating I must be to God. He's got a specific purpose for me. I know it. It's not just some song or a good feeling; it is a promise. One that so many people around the world have realized and been so content in finding. And God's got like the motherload of all playdoh kits. It's not like we're divided up star-circle-rectangle-square-triangle-heart, the end. He's got all sorts of shapes and sizes and personalities and accents and missions and purposes. People just weren't meant to be the same. On one level, yes. We all should have the same basic rights and respects. But on another level we are so different. It's one of the best things about His craft-- each and every one has a unique purpose and gift to live it out. 

Unlike playdoh, though, we aren't mindless colorful dough sitting around, waiting to be made pretty and perfect.  We have brains and choices. We have to chose to be moldable. And when we aren't actively making that choice, we get crusty. We're so very resistant to being flattened out, humbled, if you will. We say we've got it together, we like how we are just fine. A blob. Still a pretty color, sometimes on our way to looking good because He's had us for a little bit. Then we put up a fight and He puts us down. Not abandoned, just to the side because we kicked and screamed and He's waiting. And we dry out. All the sudden when I do decide to ask for His help, I find myself backtracked a bit. Because I could already be a beautiful, purposeful design. But right now I'm a hardened piece of dough that needs the warmth of His hands and the power of his knead to once again be moldable. It's a place of frustration in knowing that I can't do it myself, but a place of satisfaction in knowing that He can work on me. I'm not doomed to be a dried up ball of playdoh, but I've got to call on His hands to work. Lord, I'm asking you to work. Reach into your motherload of a collection of shapes and tools and begin again with me. 

Nothing

Take these hands and lift them up
For I have not the strength to praise You near enough
For I have nothing, I have nothing without You

-Bebo Norman

"For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline."

-2 Timothy 1:7

I am a benefit of the doubt type person. It sometimes comes in handy. Like when I can throw caution to the wind and have a movie date with a best friend at 11 p.m. when I have to babysit at 8:30 a.m. sharp. Like when I meet someone new, my mind isn't thinking about how that person might end up hurting me. Like when I have two friends fighting, I don't take a side easily. I like to hear both and point out the flaws in both arguments. And help people be friends again. 

Sometimes it is one of the things I like least about myself, and for good reason. Because it also says "so I haven't talked to this person all break long, they know I love them." "So that came out wrong, she knows I still love her." It simultaneously makes me a people pleaser and a people hurter. A person who works hard to see both sides, even when she is one of the sides, and ends up compromising something to make a person feel better, or more important, or taken care of. A person who assumes other people will give her the benefit of the doubt when she doesn't come up with the best words, or is too loud some nights or irritating on others. Who some days works too hard to make others happy and others, not near hard enough. A person who is constantly trying to find the balance. 

A person with not all of the answers, but who would love to have them. A person who often thinks she does have them and is sorely mistaken. A flawed person. Not always bad, not always good. Flawed. A personality that can and should be worked on. 

I am an apologetic person. But I should not be timid. In the face of confrontation I have been timid. It's part of the personality. A part I don't necessarily care for. A part that I don't have the power or discipline to change in a loving way. But You're there. Ready and willing if I would ask. I've tried for a week now. And I have nothing. 

Midnight Clear

I've waited for this moment for pretty much a whole semester. Not just heading to bed knowing the presents that will await me in the morning, but being in the house with all 5 of my family members, quiet in my living room, pondering the birth of Christ, free from assignments and business. I do have to say it feels pretty good. And it has already been so fun. We are a spoiled bunch of people, us Smith's. I mean, we aren't (or do not intend to be) bratty or pompous. But we do have so much. I'm in fun pajamas (our traditional Christmas Eve gift) looking up at our new Wii (a family Christmas Eve gift) on display and only minutes have passed since sharing laughter with my siblings. All 3 of them ;). They've now gone to bed and I have my quiet time to think. I love the fun we've been having, but I want to understand and comprehend better what it is we're celebrating. Every year I go through all of the festivities and church services truly believing what I'm singing and weighing what I'm hearing and then I get to Christmas Eve and it's like I've lost insight into the significance of Jesus' birth and resign myself to the surface level unwrapping of gifts. It's not so much a lack of Christmas spirit in the least. It's more a lack of the Spirit. 

I ask that You intervene tonight. With all that has been going on in my mind, as I reflect on this year and what it has meant in all different arenas-- what impact this year will have on the goings-on of 2009--, I ask that You make the reality of the life of Christ real to me. As I wake up (from sleeping in in the morning!), as we descend the stairs, as we open gifts and make lunch and take naps. Find moments to bring me back to what it's about. Keep me aware that not everyone has a family to love, regardless of what holiday they are or aren't celebrating. That some will go hungry tomorrow. Some will die. Some will grieve. Some will hurt. Many, actually, will hurt. Because that is just life.

 And life, alas, doesn't put itself on hold for idealist holiday celebration. Good thing that is not what Christmas is meant to be at all. Life was anything but put on hold the night Jesus humbled himself to this earth. And He didn't come to give us a reason to get presents once a year. He doesn't say the cookies have to taste just right and the dinner be on the table right on time, or the lights have to be set up perfectly outside, or the stockings hung neatly, or the house have to be clean. He doesn't say we have to decorate at all. He doesn't say stop hurting. Stop crying. Stop feeling anything other than cheerful. He came to give us life, that we might have it abundantly. He acknowledges the pain of living-- He knows it-- and He offers to do something about it. So many people are depressed this time of year because they hate that they don't fit the cookie-cutter mold of a happy, cheerful, blessed, gift-receiving, gift-giving person. They're spent. And the last thing God asks is for us to act like we've got it under control. His point is that we don't. Still, I know I like to act like I have all the answers. That I somehow have it figured out. That life is overwhelmingly happy for four weeks in December. 

Last night, friends, was anything but "put together." Tensions were high in the Smith home. Mom and dad bickering, mom extremely stressed out, my lazy self not on top of the chores I should have finished. Attitudes out of control. The Smith's were strugglin'. We don't have it together. Our house is prettily decorated, we are in no want for presents, the food has been fabulous, but at the heart of it all we're screwed up people. And can't none of us act like we have the Christian thing mastered. Or that we have the Christmas thing mastered. There is always a way to be more thankful, to be more graceful, to act more lovingly, to be more Christ-like. And to act like I'm there would be so wrong. So I admit tonight that I'm not close. I have everything I could want or need around me now but so much of it comes a goes. None of it is promised to me. All of it could be taken away in an instant. My hope and my joy cannot depend on these things. I know that, but I'm still not sure I'm there. If it were all gone, would I find joy in knowing that Jesus came to give me hope no matter the circumstance? Could I ever be so detached from my stuff? It's my goal. Not only to know that hope and that joy but to show it, as well. Not just to blog about it but to live it. So that my example lives up to my words.  

Christmas is still applicable. It's not just an idealist celebration (though I see how it could come across as such, I'm sure I add to this interpretation more than I care to admit), it is a real promise. It's God saying that life is going to happen but here's what I can do to help. It was a glorious revelation to everyday shepherds, which I believe applies still today.  

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men
From heavens all gracious King!"
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled;
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world:
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.

O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold,
When the new heaven and earth shall own
The Prince of Peace, their King,
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.

God I ask that you be as clear to me as I seek Christ as you were to the Shepherds that night. Show me the true glory of Christmas day. Help me to understand why it is such a big deal. I want to know it for myself. Right here, right now as I stare out into my own midnight clear, I thank you for what I already do know about the birth of your Son and for what He means to my life. Thank you for an eternal Friend born on this day. Be enough for me today. 

And with this Christmas wish is missed
The point I could convey
If only I could find the words to say to let You know how much You've touched my life
Because here is where You're finding me, in the exact same place as New Year's eve
And from a lack of my persistency
We're less than half as close as I want to be

And the first time
That You opened Your eyes did You realize that You would be my Savior
And the first breath that left Your lips
Did You know that it would change this world forever

And so this Christmas I'll compare the things I felt in prior years
To what this midnight made so clear
That You have come to meet me here

To look back and think that
This baby would one day save me
In the hope that what You did
That you were born so I might live
To look back and think that
This baby would one day save me

And I, I celebrate the day
That You were born to die
So I could one day pray for You to save my life

(Relient K- I Celebrate the Day)

Who do you say I am?

Have yourself a merry little Christmas has lost a little of its joy tonight. God, I don't know why this has rocked me like it has. I feel convicted but I don't even know what of. Like I have something to apologize for, but not. So, so happy it's Christmas, but struggling to really understand its depth in a secularized, glossed over time. Just torn. Like I've been hit in the gut. And it doesn't feel like the comment of one friend that's gotten me. It's like an overwhelming conviction that for all you've shown me this semester, I'm sitting here comfortable on my couch feeling defeated. That I am still not acting in accordance to what you've given me. I feel surrounded by guilt and disdain and hatefulness.

"If I say, 'Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,'

even the darkness will not be dark to you;

the night will shine like the day,

for darkness is as light to you."

I can't see for all that's spinning in my head right now. And I hate that because, like Simon Peter, I want to know that you are Christ. That the Son of the Living God is working in this. Not because any one person said something or because I have a church full of people singing about you around me. But because you, the Father in Heaven, are really revealing bits of yourself to me. Shine in this, God. If you are using this guilt to convict me and mold me, bring it. But if this is just a comment that is keeping me from rejoicing this Christmas, I ask that you restore to me the joy of your salvation. Whatever the case, God, create in me a pure heart.

"But what about you?" he asked. "Who do you say I am?"

Simon Peter answered, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God."

Jesus replied, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven. 

-Matthew 16:15-17

A wonderful life, indeed

Thursday was my dad's birthday (51, but you didn't hear it from me). 

51 really isn't anything to write home about, you know. It's just a year over half a century. And you know, once you're at half a century it's like one more year until death. No longer is one working up to having it all, he is resigning himself to the fact that he wont. It's the resolution phase of life, where one has to decide how to retire from the glory years and make peace with how they were spent. It's like the chance to do something really big has passed and there's nothing to do about it. At least, that's how the pessimist sees it, and my Daddy is not one of those. 

No, instead my Dad chooses to focus on the good his average life has done. Not out of selfish glorification. Just personal reflection. He stays away from vain, woe is me language and chooses instead to focus on how his life has been gratifying. He focuses on the good and asks God to use it to outweigh the bad. He would rather see the impact he's had on people than the debt that has accumulated from med school to raising three children and supporting a wife. He's not a complainer, my dad. He spends his days offering advice to the parents of ailing children, and working to improve the system he works within. He sincerely enjoys knowing and helping people. He's a relationship builder. A truth-seeker. A whole hearted worshipper. Integrity-filled. He has cared enough to not only keep a vow to my mother, but remain her best friend. With tiffs here and there, yes. But best friend, nonetheless. He openly admits it is not a power of his own that has kept this family together--that it is God who has blessed us beyond measure. Who provides. Who gives the strength for us to love one another when we aren't even big fans of ourselves. Who leads, if it means away from each other. Who challenges us to serve, and says even at 51, with most of life behind you, no matter how bad the history looks, service is still possible. Dad's right, he hasn't had the power to get us where we are. But he has had the choice, as head of the household, of who to seek and serve. It is the greatest blessing I have that he has chosen Jesus Christ. 

And that on his 51st birthday he is anything but bitter. He's content with a small dinner at Luke and Stephanie's house. Maybe watch a movie or two together. A sincere card from each child. That's all he wants. But I have a mom as devoted to my dad as he is her, who can't pass up the opportunity to make his night as special as possible. 

For years It's a Wonderful Life has been my Dad's favorite movie. And for years, I have seen bits and pieces. Last year I fell asleep. The year before that we only sort of watched as we put up Christmas decorations. The year before that I was babysitting while he watched it by himself. All of this is to say that for all of the time I've known it's his favorite movie, I'd never once seen it all the way through or known the plotline beginning to end-- much less the moral of the story. Therefore, I've never known why it's my Dad's favorite. Well, Mom bought Dad and the rest of the family tickets to the Rep theatre special showing of It's a Wonderful Life for his birthday. Let's just say it's no necktie. And right after he found out we were going (it was a surprise) I told him I didn't even know really what it was about. His eyes lit up. There I was finally expressing interest in something so long important to him. And as he told me the story so intently, even tearing up when he reached the finale, I began to realize why the story, and it's protagonist George Bailey, mean so much to Dad. Because in many ways he is George Bailey. 

George is an important community member. He has a strong loyalty to his family--a loyalty that keeps him in the same town all his life. He does his best to make sure other people are taken care of. His patience is often tested by ordinary struggles. But when everything goes all wrong one Christmas Eve, he decides to go jump off the Bedford Falls bridge. He is met by an unlikely angel named Clarence, who takes the opportunity to show George what life would be like for the town if he had never lived. George is made to see how important his existence is, and finds a new desire to return to and live his ordinary life. 

Are there some things my dad would do differently if he could? Absolutely yes. Matter of a fact, he said the other day that most of his success has come because God chose to work in spite of Chris Smith. But I know Dad is sincere when he says he wouldn't give this life away for anything. It's a Wonderful Life reminds him of this every December. He has a chance to sympathize with George Bailey and also feel his joy in the end. Because if it's this life or nothing, he'll choose his life. 

The way it was

"This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." -Luke 2:12

Well, okay, she's not necessarily in cloths as so much an adorable outfit. Also, if by manger you mean laundry basket, then yes this is like the nativity. Also if she weren't a she, the scene would be perfect. Also if there was no central heating. And if she were hundreds of miles from home. Also, if she was Jesus this would be exactly like Christmas morning (hmm, this example is quickly losing its relevance!). Well, she's not Jesus (although really, really good!) and not a lot of these things. But essentially this is it, people. 

Take away the pomp and circumstance created over a good 2040 years and at the heart of it all is a 8 pound baby like the rest of 'em. Basic needs tended to by humans. God tended to by humans. Angels rejoiced about him in far off skies to some bewildered shepherds, but the praise heard in the stable came in the form of the small, quiet noises of a newborn. I've had the pleasure for the past 24 hours of hearing these same sweet sounds from Kinley. As I sung her back to sleep at 5 a.m. I was struck at the same time by both the majesty and humility of Jesus' birth. Here I am singing classic carols, beautiful medleys meant to celebrate the birth of king, while staring vulnerability in the face. A precious face. A helpless baby. That's all He was. 

I mean, it's not all He was. No, He was also the embodiment of prophecy and promise of eternity. He is the promise of eternity. He is God.  But that night, no matter what we know comes of later in his life and no matter the power of God that brought Him there, he was a baby. And a baby is a baby is a baby. He wasn't performing miracles that night, though we herald his birth, death, and resurrection as the greatest miracle. No doubt it was a miracle that He came to Earth. But he was blowing spit bubbles, screaming and pooping like the rest of them. In order to be fully man, He had to be fully baby. Vulnerable. Dependent. Weak. And don't you know he had to have been some kind of cute!

(this is, by the way, my niece-in-law. My sister-in-law's niece. The Smith family claims her as their own though, because we are particularly close inlaws. Matter of a fact, we've made a nickname for them, which they use right back at us: the Outlaws)

Kinley

this is why I come home...

"wintry mix"ed in... still.

Well, okay, I could leave the house. But like I said, the excuse to stay in under a blanket, eating red beans and rice, playing wahoo and the x-box, hanging out with the Windhams, and continuing our Die Hard movie marathon is too convenient to pass up. So we all stuck to that excuse today. Correction-- Luke and I stuck to that excuse while Mom, Steph, and Dad had to work until 3. Luckily, by then, I had showered and gotten dressed for the day, after Katie and I layed around for the greater portion of the morning, er, afternoon watching Jumper and playing facebook scrabble. Just barely ready for the day by 3 pm. And I am not ashamed. Two words: snow day. Well, three words: wintry mix day. No worries, it will be 69 degrees by Friday. Oh, Arkansas weather. 

It really has not been the most productive 24 hours. But it has been such a gift to have few cares in the world for a little bit, outside of enjoying the company of my family, and the most precious couple of friends who have long waited for direction from the Lord and have finally been called away. Jared and Cindy will be following God to Florida for ministry in a matter of weeks, a truth that has yet to sink in. I can hardly explain their influence in my life for the past two years, much less how much I will miss it. At the same time I am elated for them at this opportunity to begin anew in a place where they feel fruitful. So I'll let Jared and Luke stomp Cindy and me at Fusion Frenzy and take in their casual presence as much as possible in the coming weeks-- it will never happen like this again. 

While it has been such a blessing to hang out and be purposefully unproductive, I am painfully aware that not all of my loved ones have been afforded such luxury. Those of you who are dealing with so many difficulties, I want you to know that you are in my prayers and that as I type these words about the fun I am having, I am also truly burdened for you. God has this crazy way of letting us feel both joy and sorrow simultaneously. I ask Him to show up in small ways and bring you joy now. You with your plate full of worries and me with not a worry besides the wintry mix currently thawing outside my window, we both worship the same God. I don't know how I got this end of the deal this Christmas season, but I am determined for your sake and the sake of the Lord we worship not to waste away my days blissfully ignoring the reality of others' pain as I celebrate, uninhibited by my own person pain. More than I am grateful that I have personally been spared sorrow or stress this season, I ask that He equip me to carry some of yours. I love y'all, and wish I had you here to take in a leisurely viewing of Die Hard with me. But where our situations are very different, I rejoice in Him for giving us a unity of Spirit. 

Remember mid-exam week when I chastised myself for getting so anxious of exam material when I could hardly call up information of eternal significance, like, say, the Bible? I said how easy it was to tell God to wait until life got easier to work on me. Funny how now it is easy to tell God He can work on me when life gets back to a scheduled routine. So I've chosen to mean what I say and join Angie Smith in memorizing Psalm 139 over break (careful if you go to her site, you may end up reading the whole story starting here, and you would be all the more blessed for it). It's just a couple of verses a day until January 1st, by which time you will have one full book of the Bible to claim out loud, to yourself, for others, with others or between you and God from memory. I tried doing this with Philippians once and can only recall "Grace and peace be unto you from our Lord Jesus Christ." Riveting. I've also had literally hundreds of memory verses over the course of my 19 year-old Southern Baptist upbringing, but could probably only quote and cite a maximum of 30. Hear me now, Psalm 139 will be different! Because if I can still list to you the four fallacies of evolution or the three ways in which social organizations shaped the outcome of the Little Rock Crisis, I should be able to claim some scripture. Here's the whole passage:

 1 O LORD, you have searched me 
       and you know me.

 2 You know when I sit and when I rise; 
       you perceive my thoughts from afar.

 3 You discern my going out and my lying down; 
       you are familiar with all my ways.

 4 Before a word is on my tongue 
       you know it completely, O LORD.

 5 You hem me in—behind and before; 
       you have laid your hand upon me.

 6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, 
       too lofty for me to attain.

 7 Where can I go from your Spirit? 
       Where can I flee from your presence?

 8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there; 
       if I make my bed in the depths, ^[a] you are there.

 9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn, 
       if I settle on the far side of the sea,

 10 even there your hand will guide me, 
       your right hand will hold me fast.

 11 If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me 
       and the light become night around me,"

 12 even the darkness will not be dark to you; 
       the night will shine like the day, 
       for darkness is as light to you.

 13 For you created my inmost being; 
       you knit me together in my mother's womb.

 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; 
       your works are wonderful, 
       I know that full well.

 15 My frame was not hidden from you 
       when I was made in the secret place. 
       When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

 16 your eyes saw my unformed body. 
       All the days ordained for me 
       were written in your book 
       before one of them came to be.

 17 How precious to ^[b] me are your thoughts, O God! 
       How vast is the sum of them!

 18 Were I to count them, 
       they would outnumber the grains of sand. 
       When I awake, 
       I am still with you.

 19 If only you would slay the wicked, O God! 
       Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!

 20 They speak of you with evil intent; 
       your adversaries misuse your name.

 21 Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD, 
       and abhor those who rise up against you?

 22 I have nothing but hatred for them; 
       I count them my enemies.

 23 Search me, O God, and know my heart; 
       test me and know my anxious thoughts.

 24 See if there is any offensive way in me, 
       and lead me in the way everlasting.

...not a bad bunch of words to know. It could be fun for you to join me, especially for the accountability. Let me know if you decide to do it. But seriously though, no pressure. If you forego doing it yourself, feel free to randomly quiz (ahem, grill) me, I'd love the help! And whether or not you choose to memorize this scripture, I pray you find comfort in it tonight. 

Walden

by Henry David Thoreau

I started reading this book last Saturday... the day it snowed at Nana's. So now, for me, the book is forever associated with snow. Naturally, I was inclined to (theoretically*) pick the book up when the "wintry mix" started falling today. Wintry mix, by the way, is when they can't tell if it's freezing rain, sleet, or snow so they cover all their bases with this blanket term. Whatever the case, it means it is cold outside, the roads are bad, and one has a perfectly good excuse to call their best friend over for some hot chocolate and a movie marathon... while both tool away on their computers under warm blankets. While on my computer, I decided to reread H.D. Thoreau's escapist piece, which reads surprisingly like a blog for a guy living 100 years before commercial use of computers... and who would most likely advocate for people to go without them. Eh, disregarding that fact, I wanted to just post of few of his ideas-- the kind that are especially poignant as the "wintry mix" ices us in and reminds us of the joy that comes from forced seclusion. The simple fun of just dwelling... and watching all 4 Die Hards. Though at this rate, we'll probably call it quits after Die Harder. Shame. It's just starting to get good. Now for Walden...

"But men labor under a mistake. The better part of the man is soon plowed into the soil for compost. By a seeming fate, commonly called necessity, they are employed, as it says in an old book, laying up treasures which moth and rust will corrupt and thieves break through and steal. It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to the end of it, if not before...

Most men, even in this comparatively free country, through mere ignorance and mistake, are so occupied with the factitious cares and superfluously coarse labors of life that its finer fruits cannot be plucked by them. Their fingers, from excessive toil, are too clumsy and tremble too much for that. Actually, the laboring man has not leisure for a true integrity day by day; he cannot afford to sustain the manliest relations to men; his labor would be depreciated in the market. He has no time to be anything but a machine. How can he remember well his ignorance—which his growth requires—who has so often to use his knowledge?...

Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind...

Granted that the majority are able at last either to own or hire the modern house with all its improvements. While civilization has been improving our houses, it has not equally improved the men who are to inhabit them. It has created palaces, but it was not so easy to create noblemen and kings. And if the civilized man's pursuits are no worthier than the savage's, if he is employed the greater part of his life in obtaining gross necessaries and comforts merely, why should he have a better dwelling than the former?"

*I say theoretically because I'm too cheap to actually buy the book, so I downloaded a pdf file. "pick up the book" just sounded better than pull up my pdf, ya know?

That's a little stone, that's a little mortar...

Kingdom Comes

by Sara Groves

When anger fills your heart

when in your pain in hurt

You find the strength to stop

You bless instead of curse

When doubting floods your soul

though all things feel unjust

You open up your heart

you find a way to trust

That's a little stone that's a little mortar

that's a little seed that's a little water

in the hearts of the sons and daughters

The kingdom's coming

When fear engulfs your mind

says you protect you own

You still extend your hand

You open up your home

When sorrow fills your life

when in your grief and pain

You choose again to rise

you choose to bless the name

In the mundane tasks of living

in the pouring out and giving

In the waking up and trying

In the laying down and dying

That's a little stone that's a little mortar

that's a little seed that's a little water

In the hearts of the sons and the daughters

the Kingdom's coming

So Mary Beth gave me this Sara Groves CD in like June and it surfaced in the highlander yesterday as I rummaged through my mother's limited selection of music. So I threw it in and heard this song. I didn't find it relevant at first-- after all, I'm not particularly angry or hurt or doubtful or fearful or sorrowful now that I have a break from college. I got to thinking, though, about when school does start back up. I promise I don't hate school. And it's not that I really dread going back. So much about life at Mary Washington is fun and honestly fulfilling.

 But it can get overwhelming. At first that scared me. Like Sadie why can't you get this under control? It's unnatural to feel this burdened.  But in talking to Him, I think the point is that it is natural to feel so burdened. Expectations are high, people. And I'm still just a sophomore in college. It can only get more extensive from here. Look around at the seasonal hustle and bustle. Life is chaotic. People (including one's self) are selfish. Greed destroys. Money won't satisfy. Grades fail to reflect effort. And yet, these things drive me. Not always consciously, not always by choice. But by my nature. And this overwhelmed nature seems to rear its ugly head most in the wake of academic hurdles and a society of developing, diverse adults. The world is overwhelming. You can't tell me it's not. But the solution is not self help. It's not even help from friends. The well meaning friends who try to tell you not to be so stressed out. Oh, okay. Since you insist. It just doesn't work that way. I wish it did. But God worked out a much better system.

He saw the state of nature with its sin and all, and sent a baby to relate to us. He empathizes with us. Not only does He want to help us, He wants to refine us. To get to the refinement process, we have to come to the realization that life is just burdensome. The friends are right, certain tests and papers shouldn't be such a big deal. But with strained relationships, spiritual hunger, lack of direction, and a good ol' case of homesickness mixed in, life becomes a bit of a to do. And it is not something I have the power to snap out of. It is, however, something He has all the power in the world to snap me out of. He has the ability to empower me to bless, to trust, to open up, to rise, to wake, and to lie down. And if I let Him, he will build my heart up in Kingdom fashion. 

Here at home the sense of urgent need for Him dies down a little bit. Because sorrow, fear, anger and doubt just happen less in the company of people who you love unconditionally and in the privacy of home. The sense of urgent need goes away. The actual need? Always there. It's not circumstantial. As the clock ticks 4 weeks and counting until I go back to the real world, I truly do not dread it. I just want to make sure that as desperately as I seek Him at school applies here at home, too... and that the relief I feel here at home is substantial enough to carry into next semester. 

Admitting to God that there is hurt, disappointment, and stress and asking Him to structure something out of it is just so much more productive than trying to deny the existence of such pressures. Every tiff, pet peeve, and letdown is a stone that just needs a little mortar to be made into something architecturally beautiful. 

Ya know something about God? He has a sense of humor. Because when I turned this song on again today I was leaving church where Jared announced his resignation. Find the strength to bless instead of curse. It's a little stone, it's a little mortar. And then I went to babysit where we worked with some sweet stone and mortar to make a gingerbread house... God has better architectural skills, no doubt. 

I Can't Even Know

Well its been over 24 hours since my last final, I've celebrated the end of the semester over a great dinner, road tripped with Rooms, spent 3 hours in a plane, I'm sitting in my living room and still I can't get it in my head that the semester is over. I mean I'm happy. Please. But it's more like I'm happy at the idea that school is over. I haven't really felt the relief first hand. I'm kind of glad for it though, because it means I'm not just riding a christmas-music induced high. I just feel like with classes done I should be more thrilled, I should feel more Christmas-y. Instead, it's as if He's saying Sadie, let me bring you relief. Let me bring you joy. 

I've often claimed this semester, "Do not grieve, for the joy of the LORD is your strength" (Nehemiah 8:10). Well, now that the work is done and my responsibilities (at least academically) are minimal, the verse is almost reversed. Do not rejoice, for the strength of the LORD is your joy. Not literally do not be happy. Don't be excited. Don't have fun. I've had plenty of fun in the past day, for sure. But the past 24 hours have been much more chill than I imagined. So I've had to ask myself why the fallout hasn't met my expectations. My conclusion is that my expectations for hype hardly involved a genuine thankfulness to God for carrying my burden. Why do I not feel the reality of relief right now? Because the truth is that He's been faithful in taking the load off little by little throughout this semester. And if I have anything to rejoice in now that it's over, it's in that He was there all along. 

Isn't that how Christmas is supposed to feel? If so, I'm only beginning to understand it. And I'm so glad he has chosen this season to start teaching me about the joy that is made possible in his strength. Strength humbled to infancy. And a joy that is, of course, complimented so nicely by hot chocolate, laughter with the family, a beautiful tree, and the ability to sit on the couch with him at 2 a.m. 

Words of wisdom

"Sadie?

Sir?

Shh."

-Dad. Katie and I were laughing too hard, like 8 year olds at a sleepover where your parents threaten to separate you. 

"Put your behind in the past... or your butt behind you. Or your butt in the past. No that doesn't make sense..."

-Dad attempting good advice

"Sometimes God works best when you aren't even looking for it.

If by not looking for it, you mean asleep and with my eyes closed, then bring it on."

-Noelle and Sadie, sitting outside the airport terminal. So lazy.

... there was another one but I just can't remember it... I've slept since then ;)

"So you didn't get everything you wanted for Christmas. But guess what? There's always your birthday."

 -Noelle's way of advising me to go to sleep even though I didn't do all the work I wanted to do tonight. There's always tomorrow, she says. 

"Just like there is no I in team, there is no A in biology"   -Peterso

"LA is in California, right?" -Dan

"I almost just broke the virgin. And then I killed the father. I have got to get out of here." -Dina

"In the history department we only do constructive tears."   -Poska

"It's a logistical reason. Guys don't cross their legs because there are logistical problems." -Noelle

We interrupt this program for some happy

what program? Oh, just my 299 presentation preparation. Preparedness is overrated, I always say. Actually, I don't-- as recorded in last night's (er, this morning's) post. Still, it is just time for a break. And I have a choice about how I will spend this time out. I could take a nap, but what's the point at this point? I could play some spider solitaire, but let's be honest I haven't legally won a round of that in some time (don't act like you don't undo when you get a card you don't want). I could busy myself on facebook, a social black hole. I could stress even though I'm supposed to be taking a break. I could go find someone to watch tv and hang with. Or I could take some time to really love my friends this Christmas. 

On Saturday night the Chiclets got upset that I was getting stuff for gifts because apparently we made a pact against gifts this year (I honestly had no clue about this). It dawned on me that handing them the presents I'm about to go make isn't going to speak the love I want it to because it might be received as my being high and mighty. That somehow I think I'm better and have the right to break the pact. That I think so highly of myself that I have to go above and beyond. 

They don't want gifts. They don't want me to spend my money. They don't want to keep score. To these arguments I say three things:

1. it is not a gift, it is a happy,

2. all of the stuff is from the dollar section, don't be too flattered,

3. it is not from me, I am under the orders of Trudy Smith.

Mainly I want to be clear, I'm not making these gifts (er, happies) to get ahead. I don't expect anything back. I don't want anything back. The very reason I'm making the happies is because each of these precious friends has already given me so much. I want each one to feel appreciated and loved. And I know the happy by itself will not accomplish this. It has to be out of a heart and demeanor of gratitude. It is easy to love on a friend, giving physical gifts or hugs or conversation. Often I miss out on the flip side of that-- being grateful for them, thanking God for them when I am outside of their presence. Paul didn't say I thank my God every time I see you. Or every time you do something for me. Or every time we have lunch. Every time he remembers. 

So here I go to make some happies. Being purposeful about reflecting why I love each girl so dearly. Mom refers to them collectively as the Chiclets, acknowledging the fact that each one has a unique role in my life and in the lives of others. Each has different strengths and weaknesses. Each has other friends that they are so important to. Each has a family that loves them. We have lives outside of each other, but life would be so different if even just one fell out of line. The term is purposefully vague, allowing for the free entrance of others. "Chiclets" can be the girls on this hall, it could include the sisters, it could be any girl from the BCM, or any other friend from campus. Traditionally, the ones with a disney princess association are the chiclets that come to mind. But we aren't trying to be exclusive with the term. I'm truly very sorry if it has come across that way. 

Ladies, all of you, I love you. And I am so blessed to have you. The world is so blessed to have each of you (unless you take a Thomas Malthus approach to life, which says there are too many people on the earth and not enough production to keep up-- but that's just econ. talking). I am indebted to you for the way you love me back. I thank you for all that you do outside of what I may see or acknowledge. For the way you selflessly serve others and diligently work on your own workload.

 There is so much that each of you do without recognition or expectation of anything in return. So much that I may never know about. But when I consider the things I do know about you all, I am humbled and joyful for knowing you. Keep on keepin' on this exam season. Happy Christmas!

okay, well this is not happy. But I felt it my civic responsibility to keep this picture circulating. If you see this guy, call the cops. But call me first so we can split the reward ;) Thank you Big D for this and all of your other wonderful photos (and Ashley for being a great photographer in general... can't leave that out).

a Study Break of sorts

well it's 3:30 a.m. and I am so over International Relations. Probably a bad thing considering I haven't taken the test yet...eh. What did I say a few weeks back about not complaining? It's getting increasingly harder as my anxiety rises. I never considered myself as a victim of test anxiety, but considering this is my first break since 7:30 p.m. I'd say I'm being somewhat irrational. How bad can it really be? I can't know until tomorrow at 9:30, test in front of me, pencil ready to go, bubbles ready to be perfectly filled in (or neatly erased), brain in full gear. Let me guarantee you my brain is not in full gear right now. 

But I just got to thinking about this anxiety. This irrational fear I have that I continue to let drive me in the days leading up to big tests, papers or presentations. I feel like there is no time (do you see how many specific times I listed in the first paragraph?!). I feel like I have to have a schedule (If you know me you know this is way out of character). And I feel like any new plan/distraction/break threatens my productivity to the point that I will put in headphones and turn up music so loud that WWIII could happen around me and I would not notice ("make sudden movements if you need me!"). The thing is that this may not be a bad strategy. The headphones keep me from being distracted by conversations, tv, other music, etc. At the same time, though, it facilitates this attitude I have that I can't let anything get between me and preparedness for the exam. I really am not worried about the grade. I'm just terrified of facing that exam feeling unprepared. So for me, there is no such thing as a welcome distraction during crunch time. But to God, there is. It's welcome distraction spelled with a capital W and a capital D. One of Jesus' many aliases. You may have heard the others... Prince of Peace. Wonderful Counselor. Emmanuel. 

I think of all the people who were too busy to be bothered the night Jesus was born. How could they know that this young couple searching about town for a cheap room was about to parent Christ? They didn't know to expect Him that night. But for the rest of us, he has become the most relevant distraction.

Do I expect Him? Or do I write Him off during exam week and tell Him he can work when I'm not so busy. Most of the time it's the latter. Shame.

I think of all the information I've accumulated this semester and crammed in the past few days. I think of the fervor with which I study the material in hopes of feeling prepared for the exam. And I wonder why it's not like this with Bible study. I'm pretty sure it's because I know that to God, through Christ, I already have a passing grade. Not because of anything I've done. Not because I am good enough or will ever be prepared enough. But because Christ fills in the gap. So I am severely chillax when it comes to studying the material. Shame, too, since this material is the most worthwhile. Worth my time. Worth my attention. Worth the distraction from the things of the earth. Actually, isn't that the point?

What if I got to the point where I so fervently sought the Lord that anxiety had to fight to get a word in? Where nothing got in my way of preparing to meet Him. Where stopping to take some time with Him felt less like another something to fit into a schedule and more like such a welcome distraction. What a fulfilling study break that would be...

MIA

Noelle has gone AWOL. As for the rest of the gangs' brains? They went with her. 

  *update*

found Noelle.

The brains?

...probably hibernating. After all, it did snow today...

Love these Lovely Ladies

...the fruits of our labor...

Use Your Words

Emily used this phrase a lot when she spent a summer working at a special needs school. The teachers are trained to teach the kids "use their words" instead of pointing, grunting or whining. So when a child comes up to them holds their arms up and moans, they say "use your words." And the child has to say "I want you to hold me" before the teacher obliges. They use this practice so that the children grow. So that they do not get lazy with their communication skills. It is so that they learn to express themselves in a way that will best incite a response, not just come across demanding, angry or displeased. 

I think of God as one of these teachers. And I'm one of those kids. I point at a problem and say "uuhh." I get just in a bad mood and come up to Him. ... . Just keep standing there. I just keep going about life, getting displeased here and there. It pens itself up and in moments where it's quiet or I just can't start work yet and I have a moment where I'm sitting still. I don't talk to Him. I think of what I need to do. I think it. But I don't pray for it. 

And He's like "Use your words!" To me it seems obvious. I want to not be anxious. I want to have a good grade. I want to know how to be a good friend and servant. And He knows it already, too. So what's the big deal in sidestepping the prayer? Sometimes I really just can't articulate how I feel or what I want. And He will still listen to me then. But even then I have to ask for Him to at least come. And I still have to humble myself. Which, let's be honest, generally if I'm just in a quiet moment before I start work I'm thinking about all I have to do, what it implies for me, how I will get best use out of this time. It's not the humble quietness of a person who doesn't know how to articulate a request. Its the the stubborn quietness of a college student who just wont. 

He wants to hear them. He demands it of us. Because when we speak it or write it, we grow. We stay on top of the communication. We express ourselves to incite a response. So that we aren't just like children standing and expecting. It's for our own good. He promises it. 

 Mark 10:46-52

"Now they came to Jericho. As He went out of Jericho with His disciples and a great multitude, blind Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, sat by the road begging. And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Then many warned him to be quiet; but he cried out all the more, "Son of David, have mercy on me!" So Jesus stood still and commanded him to be called. Then they called the blind man, saying to him "Be of good cheer. Rise, He is calling you." And throwing aside his garment, he rose and came to Jesus. So Jesus answered and said to him, "What do you want Me to do for you?" The blind man said to Him, "Rabboni, that I may receive my sight." Then Jesus said to him, "Go your way; your faith has made you well." And immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus on the road."

I shouldn't just say the words to say a prayer. It has to be with the belief that He has the power to do it. Which is why it has to be in humility. Not "hey give me a hand." Apparently, it's not all about me. Please hear the sarcasm there. 

Be of good cheer. Rise, He is calling you. Use your words.