Low

I am selfish.

I am struggling.

I am hurtful.

I am hurting.

I am sinful.

I am not good enough.

I am the one with the problem.

I am stained.

I am humiliated.

I am imperfect.

I feel these things tonight.

I am low.

But.

(and it's not an easy but for me to get to)

I praise a God who says Sadie, that's the point.

Who sweat blood in the garden because the above mentioned things hurt him even more than they hurt me tonight.

But he took the cup.

He lowered himself.

To lift me up.

I don't feel worth it.

And I'd like to stay low because it's where I belong I think.

But I'm going to get over myself before I miss the blessing.

He's already taken this on.

I don't have to fixate on it.

But just so you don't miss it.

I'm imperfect.

That doesn't end because I choose to focus on Christ in his perfection.

It just means I refuse to stop at my sin.

Because Christ refused to stop there first.

And having been lowest of low, he raised himself from the dead.

To bring me with him.

Even though I'm low.

And I am that.

When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered,

I was senseless and ignorant;

I was a brute beast before you.

Yet I am always with you;

you hold me by my right hand.

You guide me with you counsel,

and afterward you will take me into glory.

Whom have I in heaven but you?

And earth has nothing I desire besides you.

My flesh and my heart may fail,

but God is the strength of my heart

and my portion forever.

-Psalm 73:21-26

senseless. ignorant. fail.

guidance. glory. strength.

You Have A Way

I'm at a loss for words, there's nothing to say

I sit in silence wondering what led me to this place

How did my heart become so lifeless and cold

Where did the passion go?

When all my efforts seem like chasing wind

I've used up all my strength and there's nothing left to give

I've lost the feeling and I'm numb to the core

I can't fake it anymore.

chorus:

Here I am at the end I'm in need of resurrection

Only You can take this empty shell and raise it from the dead

What I've lost to the world what seems far beyond redemption

You can take the pieces in Your hand and make me whole again, again

You speak and all creation falls to its knees

You raise Your hand and calm the waves of the raging sea

You have a way of turning winter to spring

Make something beautiful out of all this suffering

-Nicol Sponberg, "Resurrection"

Every day is such an experience these days that it's hard to keep up for myself, much less for a blog. A week and a half ago I got challenged by essentially my boss to truly rest before God.

I had no idea really what that would look like. When Matt asked how often and for how long I thought I could commit to the challenge, I said every night for an hour for at least until our meeting the next week.

I promise to you I had no idea what I was saying because I was about to pee in my pants.

Literally.

No, like really. And with that one swift move, God showed me a little about just how capable He is of humbling me into my rightful place. And every day for at least an hour I sit humbled to my core. I really don't know how to put into words how incapable I feel in this job. Nor can I express how awesome (truly awe-some) it is to feel so out of control. To feel so absolutely inadequate to the point of getting rawly honest in front of God and begging Him to do something with this life that I seem convinced will never amount to anything of real consequence. That I am certain will never be enough to be everything person X or Y wants from me. That I am sure will never be good enough.

And it won't.

The point of all of these inexplicable moments I've had with God, it seems, is to confirm these self-denying, incredibly hard things to believe about my life. The world will go on after I am gone, I will never meet every person's expectation of me or even be to everyone the uplifting, encouraging influence I want to be, and I am absolutely not good enough.

Period.

End of story.

To me that is numbing, like Nicol sings in the song.

"I can't fake it anymore."

I can't fake having the answers for all of the problems laid before me on Sunday nights or during various dinner dates throughout the week. I can't fake knowing God and I can't fake believing that He is enough for any circumstance.

How I act doesn't make God any less real or capable. So to act like I have my own lift together does nothing to glorify God. And I don't have to fake it. It makes God no more real or capable.

He just is. He simply can.

So comes the humbling moment in life when "all my efforts seem like chasing the wind" and I have to sit before God and let Him know all that I am not. Then comes the freeing moment when I realize that's all He ever wanted. All He really wants me to know is what He is. Because I can't change the winter to spring. I can't rid my life or the life of my family or the lives of the students entrusted to me of "all this suffering." Only God can make something beautiful of it. And only if I can get over myself and my inadequacy long enough to turn the suffering over. What has it ever done for me? Why hold on to it? Why hold the burden on for myself?

Why not open my eyes and realize that imperfection is not the period. It's not end of story.

He has a way of turning winter to spring.

God had a way. He has a way. Imperfection is not definite. As a matter of a fact, perfection is imminent. And I can have a part in it, against all odds.

What I've lost to the world what seems far beyond redemption

You can take the pieces in Your hand and make me whole again

God sent Jesus, He took away the absolute certainty of human imperfection. He came down and left with us, with me, His Spirit. The one that resurrected Jesus from the grave. That power is in me. That God sees me. That God cares for me. That God wants me to feel whole, not inadequate. That God wants me to trust Him. Period.

And that God is faithful. That God is my God. Here, at home, in Peru, in Brazil, in the classroom, in my time with friends, in the past, in the future. God.

They may seem disconnected to me, all of these aspects of my life, they may seem mere pieces of a broken life, the burdens of a broken heart. And some of it seems far beyond redemption. But God refuses to see me like that, beyond redemption. He just needs the pieces. He wants me to sit and watch as He makes me whole again.

Then I can talk about what He has done in my life, circumstances or no circumstances. Perfect past or imperfect past. Whether I look good or bad. It doesn't matter. Because it's not about me.

He has the way.

There is something so freeing about getting to point of not being able to fake a connection with God-- not being able to fake patience or love or joy or peace or kindness or goodness or gentleness or faithfulness or self control-- and instead beginning to see Him connect to me. To bring spring to me despite my fixation on winter.

He brought Jesus to the world when it was determined to remain fixated on itself. He has a way.

I remember my affliction and my wandering,

the bitterness and the gall.

I well remember them,

and my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:

Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him."

The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,

to the one who seeks him;

it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.

It is good for a man to bear the yoke while he is young.

Let him sit alone in silence,

for the LORD has laid it on him.

Let him bury his face in the dust-- there may yet be hope.

Let him offer his cheek to the one who would strike him,

and let him be filled with disgrace.

For men are not cast off by the Lord forever.

Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.

For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men."

-Lamentations 3:19-33

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ.

What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord,

for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him,

not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--

the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.

I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings,

becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow,

to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

-Philippians 3:7-11

You see, at just the right time, when were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly.

Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare die.

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God's wrath through him!

For if, when were God's enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son,

how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!

Not only is this so, but we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ,

through whom we have now received reconciliation.

-Romans 5:6-11

The crocus is a big deal to my Mom. This time every year (I was lucky to catch it over spring break!) she goes into flower mode, counting them as they blossom in our front yard, talking to them, encouraging them to grow stronger even as some of the winter weather lingers and threatens to thwart their development. She encourages them to mature to beauty despite the odds.

It wasn't until recently that I found out why the appearance of the crocus inspires her so, year after year-- it was the flower someone delivered to her family after her Dad died when she was college-aged. He died in December and for Mom there was no sign that spring would soon come. The crocus blossoming was one sure sign that life was going on, that beauty would come about despite the odds during an extremely dark time.

Her Dad's name was Benford Truett.

Turns out we're going to have another Truett in the family soon.

Turns out God has a way of turning winter to spring.

And if it means I look outside of my right mind to whomever, I'll praise God for and encourage along manifestations of that promise. In myself, in my friends, in my family, in my interns... in the flowers, for God's sake.

Because He has a way.

Decidedly Discontent

So I have this awesome job that came out of nowhere.

Really.

Given to me. That only means as much as it does when you consider my general lack of motivation for all things official such as interviews and applications (and housing agreements/degree order forms... but that's another miraculously taken care of story, thankfully).

And when I say awesome, I don't just mean cool benefits. I mean it's a big thing. Not only in terms of time commitment and objectives of the internship, but in my mind it is the opportunity to seek consistently and like I never have the wisdom of God. And it has come at the perfect time because this wisdom I am perceived as having is beginning rub me raw. In my apparent mental health and flexibility and chipper attitude, I'm told I'm hard to be around. My "perfection" brings out others imperfection.

That aura of perfection, friends, is not a reflection of a pursuit for the wisdom of God. That is the self-promoting, self-loving image of a girl who has been given enough in life to look like she's earned it with her spiritual-ness and good temperament. And it is hard to hear that the pursuit of purification from God actually makes someone else feel unworthy or less connected to him. Mostly because I forever want God's perfection (no quotation marks) to convict me of my own imperfection. I don't want to take that role that is unique to God's perfection from him. And I don't want to see myself as this wise entity because isn't it true that man's wisdom will be made foolishness? 1 Corinthians 1:25 says, "God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength."

To hear how strong I am, how good I think I am, to actually believe how good I am? It means I haven't even tapped into know God's weakness, much less his strength. To be wise by human appearance makes me yearn to know even God's foolishness as it reigns superior to whatever good sounding lessons and words I can muster.

"For who makes you superior? What do you have that you didn't receive? If, in fact, you did receive it, why do you boast as if you hadn't received it?" Sadie, girlfriend, why do you boast the job, the family, the friends, the education as if you earned it. As if it wasn't given to you. As if you won't have to give it back?

I will have to, sooner or later. And so, I am decidedly discontent with holding on to these things as my own while I only halfheartedly and upon my own convenience pursue God. It only makes me look good.

And I am sick of that.

This new job I have is already equipping me with resources to begin my pursuit God-given, not human conceived wisdom. In an unexpected trip to the Christian bookstore with the new boss, the church paid for me three books that I can't bring myself to just skim. Not when just about every word of Tozer feels directly pointed at me.

"The doctrine of justification by faith-- a biblical truth, and a blessed relief from sterile legalism and unavailing self-effort-- has in our time fallen into eveil company and been interpreted by many in such a manner as actually to bar men from the knowledge of God. The whole transaction of religious conversion has been made mechanical and spiritless. Faith may now be exercised without a jar to the moral life and wihtout embarrassment to the Adamic ego. Christ may be 'received' without creating any special love for Him n the soul of the receiver. The man is 'saved,' but he is not hungry nor thirsty after God. In fact, he is specifically taught to be satisfied and is encouraged to be content with little."

I'd like to believe I could be content with a few less gifts, but I cannot bring myself to be satisfied with a stagnant (or more likely waning) relationship with the giver.

I want to be a David.

"David's life was a torrent of spiritual desire, and his psalms ring with the cry of the seeker and the glad shout of the finder... [holy men and women of the past] mourned for him, prayed and wrestled and sought for Him day and night, in season and out, and whey they had found Him the finding was all the sweeter for the long seeking."

So here's to the seeking.

Cast in Candlelight

were Claire and her casio,

to her fabulous flatmates's delight.

She kept her headphones on good, as together we stood

to take in the hilarious sight.

We have no current plans to remove the contraband

that sits squarely on our table of wood,

nor do we have a play to keep it from the RA

for appreciate our scene she should.

We have lemonade and cake and some trident gum,

a martini shaker, some watercolor paper, a figure skater and brushes,

we have cards and place mats and a purse and matches

and don't see what the fuss is,

as it is all better, serene if you might,

when jazzilly cast in such candlelight.

Where It's At

Where I'm at is in Sarah Berry's "dorm" room in the old familiar Arkadelphia.

I say "dorm" because seriously? Whoa. This is no dorm. This is like luxury hotel. With leather couches provided by the school. And legitimate cherry wood. And two full bathrooms. It's seriously making me rethink not moving to Eagle Village. But that's just me coveting, so let's move on, shall we? But whoa.

Down the hall from Sarah resides one of my best childhood friends, Rachel. We have one of those relationships you can't really describe adequately because it's just that ... complicated's not the word. Old doesn't do it justice either. Maybe transcending? It's weird because as time moves on, I'm finding that type of relationship with my high school friends, too. Like we're moved on and the friendship transends that. I still can't believe enough time has passed for us all to be in these new phases.

Phases like not having to ask your mom if your friend can spend the night. Phases when your friend has to get up to go teach real classes so you just chill on her bed in the morning. Phases when you take your girlfriends out to lunch in your own car with your own money on your own time that you manage yourself. Phases like talking about your boyfriend and potential engagement (don't worry Deirge and Katie, I won't be in these weddings... maybe the house party) and post grad plans and mission work and permanently life altering choices. Phases when you can eat a whole bowl of goldfish and some leftover valentine's day candy for breakfast (p.s., Sarah, or should I say "Mrs." Berry, Logan and Spiderman wished you a spiderific valentines day before I ate the m&ms that were attached to said note) without anyone saying anything (except for the scale, but who talks to him anyway? I definitely don't talk to inanimate objects).

Just a good phase. And I love sharing it with the people who knew and chose to be friends with me even in the blunt cut bangs phase of life or the television obsessed days. The days when I kissed walls while playing house (that's for you, college ladies). Henceforth, in any relationship I have, I can keep these sorts of details to myself (and would probably do better doing so), but these ladies lived through it and are still around. There just is a depth there that can't be denied.

And that's just the silly depth. Nevermind the baptisms and the mission trips and the fallouts and the distance. Which brings me to what I have been thinking about really, and that is why I haven't been here. It isn't just prompted by a desire to live in these dorms, though that is what elicited the playful "why didn't I go here's" last night (they have a THEATRE to watch their weekly shows, I mean, come on!). It came up in a short conversation with Sarah's roommate, Emily, who said "do you realize that we would have been best friends?"

She is not kidding. We really would have been. Girl is hilarious.

I look around this room at pictures of Sarah's friends, many of them my friends, of all the people who would have been close. I think of all the people I was acquaintances with in high school who could have become good friends. I see Jeremy across the hall, and though I never considered dating him in high school, he represents a whole class of guys with character and class that simply do not exist in abundance at Mary Wash. I just lay here and feel how comfortable I could have been, simulaneously knowing how hard it would have been to be motivated schoolastically. Maybe I use that as the excuse when really I just know that this isn't where I was supposed to be. Even as I sit and know it would have been fun.

This probably sounds all woe is me, and it is written stream of consciousness, so I apologize. It may come across as if I see myself as some huge martyr for the cause of following God's will because look at all the comfort I gave up. Look at the boys I could have had. Look at the nice cherry doors and molding I could have lived with. (Okay maybe that last one didn't cross your mind, but it sure did cross mine). Aren't I sooo good because I chose God above all those things?

I'm mocking myself. I'm also mocking the people who believe I really think that about myself.

Because as attractive as it sounds to have all of this, the people and the surroundings and the Christian educational influence, none of it was that appealing at the time I was applying. It didn't feel like I was giving up much when I packed up and headed north. But being in the middle of this room by myself, imagining myself here, I'm beginning to realize what a huge God thing it was to not feel the lack of all of this at the time. And it's not woe is me, I am so grateful. This morning I thank God for leading me as he did, not allowing me to focus on what could have been here because it just really was not what should have been. It's nice to know that even now, as my eyes are opened to the abundance around me now. This is where it's at. This place is tripped with all things appealing.

*not Sarah's dorm building

But it's not where I'm at, and that fact doesn't come at the cost of abundance.

I am abundantly blessed where I'm at. And that is a terrible sentence because it ends with a preposition. I'm giving myself creative license, as if I have the right.

I didn't not go to Ouachita because I think I'm better or more adventurous or smarter or Godlier. I didn't go to Ouachita because it wasn't where I was supposed to be. It was made clear to me then and I can't have regrets about it now, especially knowing what was waiting for me on the other side.

Katie left this in my comments yesterday and I wanted to address it:

"There is still so much to love. But mostly, there is still the main thing when these things are absent from my life. For me, that is God."

I'm still struggling with where God is in "these things," because I know God is there, too, and I don't have to strip those things away to find God.

------------------------------------

If it sounds like I feel like God is the absence of the things that make me comfortable or the things I left behind at home, let me clarify. I meant that God is the main thing. Not that God is the absence of things in my life. He is here. At Ouachita. At home. He is in the day to day. I see him there. I didn't feel like I needed to strip my Arkansas-ness away to find him.

I did need to get away to see God outside of where I'm comfortable. I wanted to see him outside of my day to day in Little Rock, because I saw him so clearly there. I see when I come home that he is in "these things" I let go of, if but for during the school year and in between breaks. I let go of the Ouachita experience, but he is still here. And I went on to the Virginia experience and he's there, too. Teaching me there in the day to day things. But day to day there is different than day to day here, and I needed to know that God would bridge that difference.

I don't only find God in the absence of home. I just rejoice in him because he is there, too. And I don't feel like I've given a lot up or that I live in sacrifice because I went where I felt called. It is neither a woe is me or holy is me. I just want to be where God's at. (another terrible sentence) (and I put the parentheses outside of the period) That very well could have been smack in the center of Little Rock, or better yet (ha!) Arkadelphia. It just wasn't for me.

I didn't have to strip myself of "these things" back home (and I hardly have, what with phones and texts and the internets and what not) to find God. I just so want to know that if I was stripped of all of this, God would be there too.

I want to believe that where he is is where it's at.

Right now, lunch with Rachel and Kiley is where it's at, so I'm over and out.

The Job

In case this post gets deep, I want to state on the up front that I'm on the couch watching Biggest Loser with Dad and Stephanie. Last night it was the Bachelor. Do not be fooled by fancy words, I'm just another girl on spring break.

As such, I have struggled with the main thing this week.

You know, the main thing.

Not just the being home and the extra sleep and the unplanned afternoons and the movies and the Sims and the catching up on the olympics and the various appointments and what not.

Because when I'm home and out from under surrounding pressure, what is there not to do, and what is not going to be fun? Still, as expressed in my last post pre-break, none of it is the main thing-- something especially apparent to me when I am without all of this and far away. Without all the eating out and the dominoes and the maternity clothes (not for me) and the dancing to "Ring my Bell" with dad, there is still so much to enjoy and so much to learn. There is still so much to love. But mostly, there is still the main thing when these things are absent from my life. For me, that is God.

With whom it is possible to build the most fulfilling, fruitful relationship in my life. I really believe that. I know I do because as I typed it I asked myself "do you actually mean that?" The fact that it is still written up there serves as evidence that I do. I might have put it there blindly, but it stays with much thought. That's the thing-- it's something I have to think about.

I can't just write it a week ago.

I can't just have sung (terrible tense) about it on Sunday.

I can't just say it during a job interview.

And while I'd love to believe that the whole having a deep relationship with the God of Creation thing could just happen, the truth is that true character and honest love for the wisdom and counsel of the Lord has never just been happened upon.

It is a job. It doesn't come naturally. It is so tempting to only feel desperate for it when I feel desperate. Spring break doesn't necessarily bring out the desperation in this homegirl. And I am a home girl.

But then there is that part of me that can't and doesn't want to just know the people I know and keep on doing what I do without regard for those not like me-- without a willingness to be where I need to be to have a heart broken by my own sin and the hurt in this world that others can't just put off for one week in the "spring."

I don't live in desperation. Other people do. There's a gap there that I believe has been bridged. By Christ, in such a way and by such provision that neither of us-- the haves or the have nots-- has to live in despair. I don't believe I have to deprive myself of the things I enjoy-- the company of my family whilst watching American Idol on the DVR comes to mind for some reason-- before I can consider myself useful. Far from it, I think it is futile to feel guilty for what I have for the sake of trying to feel useful. Because is my tv really what is keeping me from offering a smile to the slow waitress or offering a dollar to the guy with the sign on the street or from serving a youth group to the best of my ability, starting with meaningful time in prayer and preparation for their internship program?

If so, sad.

But mostly it's not what I do have or what I am doing that is keeping me from it.

It's what I'm not doing and therefore what I don't have that is keeping me from acting on what I believe. And that, as previously stated, is that "it is possible to build the most fulfilling, fruitful relationship in my life" with God.

What I do or do not have does not change that fact, that promise on God's part. But as long as there is a gap between my experience and someone else's, I want to live like a person who believes that Jesus came not just to fill that gap, but to bridge the gap between all of us and him.

It is a job.

And it is my job for the next eight weeks especially. I don't know if I've officially talked about my position at Fairview as the intern coordinator, but there you go I just did. Basically I'm getting paid to be a part of other people's lives and help about five youth realize some leadership potential. My job is to foster growth in them. By starting with fostering it in myself.

Honestly, it feels strange to be making money for something I so badly want to do anyway.

Leave it to God to use money as a reward for a girl who already feels she has too much. It's like a divinely juxstaposed reminder that the money isn't the reward here. And this job is not where the job of learning how to please God and lead others to him ends.

It does feel like an awesome beginning.

The people pleasing thing is exhausting. Even when those people are the ones I absolutely want to have feel considered and, well, pleased. Perhaps especially when I'm out to please the people I love most. My friends. The people who made the move to far, far away really fun.

But while I have this time away, I'm jumping on the keeping the main thing the main thing bandwagon (begun by the likes of David and Job... pun intended?) and can't even be sorry about it.

It is a job. It takes time and effort and energy to focus on an eternal perspective and try to reconcile it with present expectations and pressure. It takes time away and time alone and an attitude that makes no apologies for making that my priority.

It also takes a gentle heart that is willing to clarify my intentions and be honest about my feelings.

It takes a tougher person than I am on my own. It is intimidating to me. I am not good at the balance therein. But, then, that's the job.

And thank God that he is faithful.

He waives the job performance rating and continues to offer the benefits-- especially for those struggling to believe they'd ever be useful to "the company" or to the "boss." This could all just be my consumerism class talking again.

So I'll let God do the talking, let him outline the job, as he did to Job like forever ago:

"Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone-- while the morning stars sang together and while the angels shouted for joy?... Do you have an arm like God's, and can your voice thunder like his? Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor, and clothe yourself with honor and majesty. Unleash the fury of your wrath, look at every proud man and bring him low." -Job 38:2-7, 40:9-11

This he says to a man who by earthly standards had every reason to complain, take it upon himself to exact revenge and walk away. A man who had every earthly reason to give up, be short, believe that anything he could come up with alone had to be better than what God was dishing out.

Even for Job, God makes it clear that our job is to remind ourselves what we can't do and what we don't have control of and tremble at that. Because once we're there, the price he paid for us has to seem so much more significant.

That appreciation, the reality of what Christ did and how it should make a difference in my life, just won't be happened upon. But more than anything I don't want to miss it. So I pray that God make me up to the task.

Even as I sit surrounded by everything it looks like I'd ever need. I won't be fooled.