My Little World

I don't have pictures.

But I can picture it well.

I spent so much time there, I should be able to.

Healer. Idealist.

Naive. Impractical.

Call it what you will and say what you want about it, but -- good or bad, annoying or endearing --there can be little doubt. I was a dreamer.

My backyard.

Almost black separated from my neck by soft, powerful wind. I loved the feeling. I closed my eyes as back and forth I flew-- and I was flying. Closing my eyes, I could be anywhere, and I loved to go there. If I didn't see that I was just a mere 2 feet from the ground, I could be 200 feet above it. There, in the safety of what could be, I dreamt.

Of things like singing Celine's "Because You Loved Me" to my teachers at 5th grade graduation because I appreciated them (I roll my own eyes at that one). Of marrying Brandon the (future) pilot and feeling the same soft, powerful breeze during a jaunt in a Wright Bros. style plane. Of opening an orphanage at my house and pushing other kids on the swing in my backyard that I didn't feel deserving of. I dreamed of the days I would have straight teeth and be really beautiful-- not just the kind my parents assured me I was. I hated thinking of the day my dog, Oreo, wouldn't be around (she was the one who cared to join me in the backyard of my greatest hopes) but I knew she would most likely go before the coveted day that I could be a teacher and a real difference-maker, so I was oddly okay with the thought (people, I was weird).

I played in the shed at the side of the house, where my Dad's sideyard was constantly being renovated, added to or arranged. I stood at the side gate like it was my front door and invited the pretend world in. Of course, I wished to do the same for the real world, too, but the real world was just harder to get a grip on. I couldn't lasso reality to my sideyard for a cup of tea. Real people didn't understand the little world in my head. Pretend people, on the other hand, didn't hesitate to accept the invitation.

I had myself convinced that in my real world, as in my fake world, I would be okay growing up and having only a shed. As long as it could be mine and I could do what I wanted with it, I would do everything I could to make it a home and would share it with others however I wished. Somewhere between the flowerpots and lawn mower was a place for whoever came along. 

I did, of course, grow out of this. I would have to, right? It's unrealistic. Too perfect. Impractical. I learned that people might be looking for their place in life, but that didn't mean they wanted the same things. I learned I didn't have a place for everyone and despite my imagination, I couldn't invite them into my ideal world because, well, it didn't exist.

Just to me.

To most everyone else, it seemed, the kind of love that keeps no record of wrongs, that isn't easily angered, that hopes and trusts and doesn't delight in evil (the kind I was always taught came from God and should be my aim) is mostly just a great idea. They wouldn't expect it of me and I, in turn, shouldn't get too eager to experience it.

Except for that I saw it. In fiction I saw it with the Boxcar Children (this could be where the shed dreams came from), in Father of the Bride and 7th Heaven. And while I knew that was fiction and grew to find it laughable, I had real life examples to compare it to. Surely I wasn't too out of touch with reality when there were historical examples: Harriet Tubman and Annie Armstrong and Dixie Jackson and Lottie Moon and Princess Diana. But then came the awful truth that history isn't always what it seems.

Well, then, I saw it at home. And that wasn't romanticized or fake. I knew because I lived it. My parents consideration of each other and us was real. My daydreams weren't about escaping harsh reality-- they were all about figuring out where to go from a good reality. The sky was my limit-- who would I be? How could my adulthood build on the childhood I loved so much?

The only way for life to get any better was to dream up even more. Realistically, though, I didn't think life could get any better. So I just lived it. I stopped dreaming the childish dreams for more because everywhere I looked, I had what others kept saying they dreamed of.

Other times what other people dreamed of, I didn't want to have-- sex, drugs, alcohol, parents out of their business, big popular parties. The dreams I dreamed made me weird. The life I lived made me weird. So even though my dreams were born of wanting to be better and love deeper, I didn't dare impose them on other people. I would just wait out my days until I got prettier and more effective in making the differences I only secretly dreamed of. The home I dreamed up and the man I loved would come along because why wouldn't they? I had what I needed, everything else would just fall into place. God included.

Then I reached high school and figured that God shouldn't just fall into place in my life. Or, rather, that He wouldn't. Dreaming about Him and what he could do in me was not enough. I had to believe Him to do it, and that was going to require more than just waiting around living the life that simply was.

About one morning a week during senior year, I left for school 30 minutes early. As the sun rose over the hills, I drove down by the river. I sat in the grass or walked the beaten path and literally, out loud, asked God where to go. I just couldn't believe that the dreaming was for naught. And I couldn't believe that my privilege was for me to just live the way I wanted.  In living for myself, I felt selfish for wanting more. But it also felt wrong to not want more.

So I walked and I sat and I cried over the way my life was so good I didn't necessarily have to dream-- I could just coast. But I hated that thought. I hated that my life was good, but not necessarily Godly.

The more I read about God and the things He repeatedly tells his people are possible, the more I felt that my dreams were never simply the frivolous wishes of a naive schoolgirl. Not all of them anyway. So I had to start deciding which ones I would hold onto. The pilot husband could go, I didn't need the Wright Bros. plane and I didn't have to blossom into the most beautiful woman-- or at least how beautiful a pale, freckle-faced, long-nosed girl could become.

The dreams about the love and the people and contentedness? Well, I would rather those be simply dreams. Then I could dismiss them and not bother with the seeing them come to reality. Then I could live and let live and not bother people with my stupor.

But the promises of the Bible-- the community, the redemption, the peace, the challenges that will one day be met with reward-- those aren't dreams. They are real. Sure they upset reality. Sure it bothers people to think of living selflessly and contentedly because it's not how we actually live. But it doesn't make those things impossible.

I'm old enough now to know that though humility and harmony are not impossible, they are unlikely to ever be the order of this reality in which I remain.

I don't have pictures.

But I can picture it.

The world in which my dreams aren't impractical or naive. They aren't unlikely or upsetting. The world where everyone does have a place and people don't keep a list of wrongs and hopes aren't crushed and trust isn't betrayed and love never fails.

It's coming.

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. (I Corinthians 13:12)

Lullaby

"Be near me, Lord Jesus!

I ask Thee to stay

Close by me forever

And love me, I pray.

Bless all the dear children

In Thy tender care

And take us to heaven

To live with Thee there."

I guess it sort of loses something when you aren't hearing Mom sing it over the baby monitors from the nursery. This is the 3rd verse of Away in a Manger that she used as Luke's lullaby in his duck-themed nursery 28 years ago. From the sound of it, she hasn't lost her charm.

Bygones

One of our breakout sessions this weekend was about journaling and our exercise was to journal. So I did.

10/31/09

"Halloween. Yours is the only spirit I want in this room. Remember that Halloween 14 years ago? The Holy Ghost party? Those friends, that church, that child? Did you know then that they'd move away? Did you know the future of Saddle Creek?

Did you know I'd be here, in this room, with these friends, as this child? Of course you did. You knew.

Do I take that for granted? Do I just assume you'll take the reigns and carry me through, carry my friends through? I just don't have as much of an issue with trusting you as I do asking you. I believe you know your plans, but it doesn't mean it'll just happen. It doesn't mean that doubt won't creep in or words won't cut deep or relationships wont be a struggle. These things just happen when I assume that we're good. That you've got it without even haven communicated with you. I measure myself against other people and my beliefs conform to theirs. It's not that they are bad beliefs. But they just aren't yours. They aren't your words and without your words, mine mean nothing.

14 years, God. 14 years of changes and phases and laughter and pain. So many times that I've need your words and so many times I've spoken my own. I believe that you created me to think independently and be smart. To reason. To put stuff together in my head. But when I'm not seeking evidence of you, I have little to actually claim faith in.

I claim you. But to know you? 14 years worth? I feel like I'm behind."

I hate this problem. And I hate that it is a persistent one in my life.

I don't lack belief. I don't lack faith.

I lack maturity. I lack abandon.

"Still another said, 'I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say goodbye to my family.' Jesus replied, 'No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God." -Luke 9:61-62

Well, I mean, let's back up. I just straight up lack reading my Bible. If I'm behind it's because I haven't used my resources. It's that I've aspired to the life of greater maturity but have done little to reach it. I am at once okay with where I am and in another instant hating it. One moment if feel like I've done enough. The next I feel behind.

I'll follow you, Lord, but first...

I have a lot of "firsts." The main one is "but first, don't you see how badly I've failed. How childish I've been. Don't you see my record, here? Don't you hate the lukewarm? I'm just average. I've just been comfortable. You despise 'servants' like me. The ones who say 'no, no. I've done enough. See?...' Don't you see how distant I've been?"

But first, let me think it through. Let me decide if I'm good enough. Let me decide if she is good enough. Let me decide if he is good enough. Let me decide if you are good enough.

I'm not. Let me work on that and get back to you. Don't worry I'll figure it out. Let me look back. Let me go to a conference. Let me talk to friends. Let me think.

The question, though, I believe, is are you, God, good enough? Good enough for my abandon? Good enough for my attention?

(The retreat formerly known as) Axis brings out a side of me I feel like you meant to be very useful. The side of me that will drop the thought of sleep and instigate a three legged race. The side that will ball up in a corner of telephone booth to beat a record. The side that will sleep on a pee stained, pee reeking bed because half the world doesn't have half that. The side that will hop on a stage and have the most fun, if only for a few minutes, seeing the laughter and glee of new people. The side that will dance around to "I'll fly away" not because it's what I'm supposed to do but because it's what I'm not. Because by the end of the weekend you managed to teach something to this hurt, confused heart. The side of me that will go to bed that exact same day crying because knowing something just isn't enough. Knowing a lot of things just isn't enough. Believing a lot of things just isn't enough. It isn't enough compared to the "surpassing greatness of know Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I (should) 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 3:8-11)

The side of me that is ready to give a lot of things up.

Who is ready to be humbled, even humiliated.

(insert picture of my badonkadonk with rust stains all up on it here)

Who at the end of it all would like to attain to resurrection. Not because heaven has gold or my grandpa (but I mean, hey B-Daddy) but because resurrection is the only way to truly be in the presence of Christ. Yes, after humbling myself to servanthood, I hope to be there, finding the glory in your presence.

But if not.

"Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to the king, 'O Nebuchadnessar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, o king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." (Daniel 3:16-18)

But if not, it would be worth it anyway. You would be worth the humiliation of being reduced to a foot washing peasant. Glorification for me or not. Because it will have been to your glory. And that is enough. You don't need me for the glory in the first place. You sure don't need to glorify me.

I'm not good enough.

But you gave me your attention. And you abandoned your majesty to humble yourself as a servant.

Good enough for my attention? Good enough for my abandon? Good enough for my humiliation?

The three-legged race is. The phone booth is. The laughter is.

Aren't you?

Phrased like this it comes so simply to me. You are more than enough.

Hence the dancing and subsequent crying. More than I know, you are enough. And what I know is not enough.

I will follow you, Lord, but first let me know a little more.

"My brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. All of us who are mature should take such a view of things. And if on some point you think differently, that too God will make clear to you. Only let us live up to what we have already attained." (Philippians 3:13-16)

I will glorify you, Sadie, but first let me humble you.

That starts from where I am. Not where I want to be. Not where I was. But from where I am, with what I have already attained.

Let bygones be bygones.

I will be glorified, Sadie, but first let me show you humility. Let me exemplify it. Let me bring it about in you. Have faith in that. You be the evidence. You press towards the goal. You keep lowering yourself. You serve me. You reach the bottom and see if there isn't a prize waiting.

I will, Lord, but even if there is not, I will not serve anything, anyone, else first.

It is what God wants to hear, I think. It is the response I want to give.

But as is, I have a lot of firsts. The main one is "but first, don't you see how badly I've failed. How childish I've been. Don't you see my record, here? Don't you hate the lukewarm? I'm just average. I've just been comfortable. You despise 'servants' like me. The ones who say 'no, no. I've done enough. See?...' Don't you see how distant I've been?"

Family. School. Friends. Sleep. TV. Technology. Me. All have gone first.

But I'm letting bygones be bygones.

Sure I feel inadequate. Sure I feel behind in knowing the God who knows me intimately.

But it was never about me.

At least not until God decided to make it about me. And you.

It's not about a prize or the glory in being able to say "yes, I have done enough."

It's about that "the God we serve is able." (Daniel 3:17).

Able enough for me to abandon my bygones. And more than good enough.

And Crown the Hood

I promise. That is how I learned the song. And crown the hood with brotherhood from sea to shining sea. I would swear by it, but I usually don't. Plus, I don't have the greatest track record when it comes to correct lyrics ("later on, we'll perspire while we dream by the fire" is not actually the line from Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland, in case you were wondering). And a good amount of the time I got more focused on choreography than so much the music (the thing is that you're supposed to somehow coordinate the two... you're welcome for that helpful piece of advice. If you know me, you know coordination is just a lost cause).

I'm a little late on the 4th of July train. Okay, a lot late. But there was Alias to watch and Steph had to go back to school and Luke started a new job and I was partying at Emily's house and the Berry's house and going to the pool and working. For short we'll just call it life. Boy, it gets in the way sometimes. In the way of important stuff. Like blogging.

Speaking of important stuff... freedom (that, readers, is a transition sentence for professionals). I've learned a lot about freedom from my political science classes at school. Not close to everything there is to know and I'm no expert, but it's like what makes the world go 'round, freedom. It is a fundamental part of a states' policy. And if I've learned anything from every single one of my classes over the past couple of years, it's that somewhere along the way freedom has become highly politicized. Whether a state has it or does not, no matter how it defines freedom, every nation, regime and government is measured by it. Most of the time the pursuit of it causes a stir.

Ask 17th Century philosopher John Locke: "Good and evil, reward and punishment, are the only motives to a rational creature: these are the spur and reins whereby all mankind are set on work, and guided." Locke advocated a smaller government than the Leviathan, or Commonwealth, proposed by his counterpart Thomas Hobbes. His argument basically says that people are rational and capable of handling a good amount of responsibility for the common good of the state. Hobbes believed in a nasty, brute, and short state of nature where common men are predisposed to fight for resources. In order to protect his property, man would be willing to give up a good amount of individual freedom for the common, thus personal, good. He was a larger government theorist, if you will: "The social contract is binding only so long as the sovereign [governing body] has power to enforce it. Sovereignty may be vested in a person or an assembly, but it must be indivisible, not a division of powers between King and Parliament, church and state."

What's weird is that these men, while representing totally opposite points of view, with theories that align easily to liberal (hobbes) and conservative (locke) ideas, the modern two-party American system sets the two up with way more contrast than necessary. Neither is a better or stronger advocate of freedom, they just have fundamentally different ways of going about it. And that's okay, I think. So long as the end result is freedom. I'm not a huge fan of the big-budget, far-reaching government (or presidential administration). I'm sick of the words subsidy and bail out and socialized, if you want to know how I feel. But is it wrong? And if so, what am I going to do about it? What sort of stand am I going to make?

I don't like the idea of being taxed a larger percentage because I am the product of a larger bracket. I don't like the thought of being told what doctor I can see and when. Oh, ho, ho, I hate that the government's portion of my worked-my-tail-off-making-smoothies check is going to make some nice cars for the people less hurt by this here recession to buy whilst I drive around in my 1998 Sunfire (which you will so be hearing about later on). But you know, I don't think these things are what is wrong with the world. And I don't think any reversal of these policies will fix a gosh darn thing. I mean, I might like it more, but I know about 3,001 other people at the University of Mary Washington, 98% of my educators included, who would rather move to Canada (and cross the border back to the US for the re-established private health care system) than see a conservative victory. So would it really do a whole lot to right the wrongs of society if I got my way? (especially since it is a common view among fellow members of my party that the liberal folks are the wrong of society). Nope. It would simply make the liberals mad for 8 years. How's that for change. So here I am thinking, will it do me any good to be a mad conservative for 8 years? Nope.

I will, however, continue in my belief that the government shouldn't take upon itself what should be the business of its citizens-- and that is common wealth. I'll give it to the liberals, though, we the small government believers aren't really doing the best job sharing the wealth. Not like wealth, wealth, though that is the most often focused upon. We aren't doing really well sharing the love. Because if we were (doing well, that is), there really would be no need for all the dang government programs. They would be church run, school run, business run, community run programs. So I could go on being all mad at Obama that I don't have the opportunity to do something really great because he's taking all my money and giving it to car dealerships or I could be truly honest with myself and ask what really great plans do I actually have to put forth? What good am I trying to do that I can't anymore because of politics? And is it really an administration that is stopping me?

I have a God whose good knows no party or politics. And there is no administration that's going to stop him. So if it's stopping me, He'll move right on down to the next willing servant. Oh, Lord, please don't.

What's more, I live in a land where I have the freedom to worship this God. What a privilege I celebrate this holiday. What a responsibility it entails. Hobbes put a lot of faith in the citizens he spoke of-- capable of handling a good amount of responsibility for the common good of a state. Moreover, God put a lot of power in the faith of His children. I hope I'm growing to where He finds that faith in me...

"So I sought for a man among them who would make a wall, and stand in the gap before Me on behalf of the land, that I should not destroy it; but I found no one." -Ezekiel 22:30 (NKJV)

"Do you want to stand out? Then step down. Be a servant." -Matthew 23:11a (MSG)

In our sermon this weekend, Mark Evans said something I've heard before but with a political spin for the first time. He said it's not about getting God on my side, it's about getting on God's side. It's not about having God on the conservative side or the liberal side. It's learning how to use different theories and gifts to contribute to God's side. And it can't be, I'm finding, like a presumptuous "oh, yes, I'm all up on God's side." It is a holy, humbled place to be. See? "Then the LORD said to [Moses], 'Take your sandals off your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.'" -Acts 7:33

When I think of common wealth and big government, I automatically think of welfare and from there my mind drifts to the hood. Little five year old me didn't know about all the social problems and racial issues of the world and hood back in kindergarten, but she might have been on to something. Because she probably saw that the hood needed a little brotherhood. Not necessarily from within-- they've got the "you scratch my back, i'll scratch yours" philosophy pretty much down. But from the outside, the hood could use some brotherhood. Like from little white west Little Rockian me. From conservative little me. The kids who dread weekends and holidays for lack of meals away from school could use a little good from me. Not in a spirit of my superiority, but in brotherhood. Or, rather, in sonship.

"For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, 'Abba, Father.'" -Romans 8:15

Free to cry. Free to pray. Free to shout. Free to hear. Free to speak. Free to love. Free to live. Free to sing (albeit the wrong lyrics).

It's good to be an American. Can't deny it. Can't not appreciate the lives given to make it so.

But the freedom? It's not a political thing. It's not a state thing. It's a God thing.

"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." -John 8:36