Staying the Course

I have cried a lot this week. Some of those tears developed from a place of grieving--releasing the past so I can embrace the present. The rest rose from a place of deep sadness related to a wounding conversation. Relationally, these last twelve months have been so painful especially when it comes to men; and yet, I'm surprised (and celebrating) the growth I've seen in myself when it comes to vulnerability and speaking the truth about myself to others.

In fact, last night I was reminded of an old post I wrote (Free from the Facade) and reading it this morning, I was amazed at how far I've come in the process of allowing myself to be known and living a life characterized by vulnerability. I've told the truth and I'm thankful. Doing so has brought increasing levels of freedom to my life. In that way, fear hasn't controlled me. 

God is still working to free me from my instinct to run away though. Honestly, I've wanted to this week--I've strongly desired to shut myself off from a friendship again. Instead, He's asking me to trust Him, to forgive, to love well, to believe the best and to sit in what feels painful--to stay. 

An old friend once told me that I have a enormous capacity to love. He also said that because of this I hurt more deeply. My continued experience tells me this is true. Perhaps God was helping me understand, way back then, what He was going to ask me to walk into in my life. Today I pray for the grace to stay the course.

Behind Basketball & Brackets

The non-sports fans out there won't understand this, but tonight I realized that the Tourney started and I didn't catch a single game on day one, round one. In fact, I didn't fill out a bracket either. Who am I? I mean, I thought about filling one out--it's been my annual routine since I discovered my love of college basketball in 1995 via two of my favorite high school teachers--the men's and women's basketball coaches. I never quite got into the women's tournament (sorry Bartok and every female out there who cares deeply about the women's side), but absolutely fell head over heels in love with the men's games. I'm human, okay? Regardless, I considered filling out my bracket and then I let the idea slip away into a sort of non-existence this year.

When I think about basketball and the way it's shaped me, I feel a bit surprised by the weight of the influence. I discovered the Tourney at a time in my adolescence when I was running away from God and escaping the pain of some wounds inflicted by high school friends--Christian friends from my youth group at that. I already liked the sport by the time these particular events played out--perhaps that's why it was natural to step more deeply into community surrounding it.

I won't unpack the specifics here, but in the midst of the hurt I experienced I made two significant vows that followed me for years to come: "I will never be hurt like that again" and "I will make new friends, better friends." The latter carried with it a determination that those who injured me would regret their choice for letting me go. I was on a journey to prove my worth and value by what I might obtain through effort and investment. I'm sure we all recognize that this storyline wasn't going to make life any easier. And it didn't, but it certainly numbed my pain for a while.

Not all of it was bad, of course. As I ran, I encountered a group of people that genuinely cared about me. The guys on the varsity team became some of my closest friends my junior and senior years. I sang the anthem at a bunch of their games. Their coach, Mr. Main was such an encouragement to me in that process--upon learning that I sang, he persuaded me to sing for a game the guys had at the sports arena in Denver. The "big time", you know... In fact, I remember being so nervous about singing at that first game--I practiced for the audience of a wall off to the side of the arena for the better part of thirty minutes (I'm amazed my voice was still in tact for the actual singing...); after I finished the last note and replaced the microphone, I walked past the guys huddling up and my friend, Matt stuck his hand out of the circle and squeezed mine. I felt so seen and known.

There were things like that about this community that shaped me in the best ways--those guys just let me be me and they liked me for it. They didn't mind that I was more book smart than street smart or a little naive about the world (or maybe a lot).  I didn't have to try with them and I guess I didn't realize that I felt I had to try in my life before them.

I baked chocolate chip cookies for those guys every week and we ate them during this thing we called "Advisement"--a weekly study hall of sorts. We'd all show up in the classroom of either the girls or guys coaches (which were connected by an inner door) and spend the 90 minutes catching up on homework, talking about the last games, whatever. Those were some of my favorite days. Mr. Main always tried to give me advice about one of the guys (I liked one of them in particular and they all knew it). I even babysat for he and his wife that year.

Our senior year, his appendix ruptured and he almost died. I remember going to their house to visit him and talking to him about Jesus. I wasn't exactly walking well with God (there was a lot to that at the time), but I knew I needed to tell him about my faith. It was a sweet conversation and I was so glad he was okay.

My first year of college, I came back and sang for one of the guy's games during my Christmas break. I hadn't really talked with the guys much since we all graduated and seem to think that a few of us were there that night. There was another girl sitting near the score-keepers area who I knew from choir the year before. She thought she was on deck to sing that night. Mr. Main kindly asked her to let me sing instead since I was visiting which she agreed to, but the act caused a little high school drama to unfold as I watched her head back to the student bleachers where she proceeded to tell her friends what just happened in an animated fashion. I hugged everyone goodbye that night and not long after, headed back up to school for spring semester.

Spring break came and I found myself at home again. I'd just filled out my bracket for the Tourney and kept thinking about Mr. Main and the guys. As I drove through town for this or that errand, I kept thinking of he and his family and thought I should pop in to show him how well I was doing that year (to date, I think it's still the best bracket I ever had). Well, I never got around to it. My break was nearly over the morning my friend's mom called me to say that Mr. Main had died suddenly after a pick-up game at the school. My mom handed me the phone while I sat in her kitchen.

Regret. Sadness. Shock. I began analyzing how many opportunities I had to visit him that week. I went to the high school that day and just sat in his classroom, staring at the chalkboard and crying. I even looked through his desk drawer and found some of our senior pictures--a few of the guys on the team, a few of my girlfriends and mine. Later that day, I called his wife and told the person who answered the phone that if she wanted me to sing at his memorial service, I'd be more than happy to do so... I just wanted to help in some way. Once the details were together about the service, I tracked down the guys who were on the team from my class, calling each of them to tell them the news.

His wife had called me back personally to say that she'd love for me to sing. She wanted me to pick the songs, but had one request. I learned that song. The others were hymns I picked with the help of a friend that told about Jesus. I had been on a journey back to Him myself that year. The memorial service found all of us clumped together, dressed in dark colors, talking, but not talking in rows of the church he attended. We told stories and I had the chance to talk about hope in Christ. After, I drove one of the guys home and we talked in depth about God's love for him. I still don't know if that conversation ever changed anything for him, but I pray that it did.

I kept the bracket. I still have it somewhere. There's more to this story, but I'll end there for now. March Madness has a significant place in my life because of these events. Each year I think of the guys and Mr. Main. It seems strange to let it go a little this year because it feels like I'm letting them go. Perhaps that's part of a bigger story that God's been leading me into regarding my past. Maybe I'll understand that better not so long from now.

So He Can Give Me His Best...

Last night my house church spent the evening in Luke 7:18-35--the retelling of John the Baptist sending his disciples to see if Jesus was indeed the Messiah. When they find Jesus and ask Him, the text tells us:

 ²¹ At that very time, Jesus cured many people of their diseases, illnesses, and evil spirits, and he restored sight to many who were blind. ²² Then he told John’s disciples, “Go back to John and tell him what you have seen and heard—the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor. ²³ And tell him, ‘God blesses those who do not turn away because of me.^[c]’” 

(www.biblegateway.com)

Jesus doesn't respond to the question directly (which is often the case), but tells John's disciples the reality that He is fulfilling prophecies from Isaiah regarding what the Messiah would come to do. Looking back into Isaiah, we found that Jesus does not mention everything that is listed there--perhaps that's part of John's hang-up? Jesus isn't meeting every expectation, so John feels uncertain.

After John's disciples leave, Jesus turns His attention to the crowds around Him and addresses another form of expectation--those held by the people regarding John and his role in preparing the way. He then addresses the Pharisees and points out more expectations--essentially, if God doesn't work in the way they expect Him to, they're unhappy and go about life in their own way--rejecting God's good plan for them!

This is a very short explanation of a passage that contains so much detail and depth. There's much more that I could say, but I want to offer this today: As I read and considered what seemed to be a dry passage (in fact, I told my house church that as I was preparing to facilitate, I genuinely wanted to skip ahead to the next story--one that resonates far more deeply with my emotions than this story), I realized that God was speaking to me again about my expectations and my disappointment.

Is Jesus ushering in the kind of kingdom I desire in my life or do I have other ideas about what that should look like? Discussing it last night, I realized that I fall into the latter camp. The ways that my disappointment has been triggered during the past few months points directly to this reality. I've been in so much pain and desperately long for God to shut off any form of hope or desire in a particular area, but He's too kind to do that. 

In His gentleness and love He continues to offer me His hand--an invitation--to go still further into this place of brokenness and need. He wants to be the One to assign meaning and purpose to what I'm experiencing so that His Kingdom will come into this space inside of me that craves His love and His light. He's asking me to lay down my expectations of what He should provide for me so He can give me His best.

I don't know how John felt when his disciples reported back to him the things that Jesus said, but I feel undone. Jesus, bring Your Kingdom in the way and the time that You desire... That's where my heart goes with this... I want Him to accomplish it in His way, not mine. And, painful as it is to be in this place of healing which requires that I surrender every expectation and motive,  I know that the outcomes He produces in the process are filled with goodness and the right kind of fruit.

Launching Point

I picked my outfit out last night and changed half of it at the very last moment... Part of me felt anxious for the evening, the other, excited. Landing on a black skirt, red top and my favorite patent black heels, I scurried out to my car and texted, "Just left my house! Running late, sorry!" On the freeway, I called my friend who remained at my house and asked, "Can you check to see if I unplugged my curling iron?" I did. She calmly asked, "Do you want me to pray for you?" I breathed deeply, "Yes, please..."

Arriving at the restaurant, about half of the party was there. Thankful to have calmed down a bit, I began to notice my surroundings. For one, the weather was absolutely lovely. Our tables were out on the back deck of the restaurant overlooking a lake. It was a bit breezy, but I regarded the movement with a sense of appreciation. Something else could be in motion--I could choose to rest.

While it has been official for a few weeks, this evening meant a lot to me.  Fifteen friends took time from their busy lives and schedules to join me in celebrating the ending of a significant part of my life tonight.  There's something about being the center of attention that makes me a little edgy and I suppose that's what I was feeling in the moments leading up to dinner. However, as the rest of the group arrived, I found myself hugging people and expressing my gratitude that they made it out... Slowly, I let myself relax.

We ordered appetizers and the conversations continued. I sat there soaking up the loveliness of the outdoor patio, the lake, the strong breeze, fabulous food, the fireworks that suddenly appeared in the distance, the faces of the people who came to be with me and the memories of how I met each of them... I kept smiling as I considered those things again and again while I sat there. I felt loved. I felt thankful.

At one point, my friend, Jenn turned to me and said something along the lines of, "It's amazing to see the people you have in your life..." I responded, "I'm really blessed. These people know my story--that's meaningful to me." And it is. Some know more than others, but they all share in it somehow. And, there were many that I couldn't include tonight--I marvel at that truth! Sometimes I genuinely wonder: Lord, who am I that You would show such goodness and kindness to me? I'm beyond grateful.

Driving home, I took it slow. I felt sad somehow, but I turned up the volume on the radio to avoid going into it in the car. When I arrived, there were a few people over and they invited me to play the game they were starting, but I knew I just needed some time to myself. I came in my room and a couple tears surfaced. I think what I'm feeling is change. There has been a world I've been a part of for a very long time and that chapter has closed. Life is moving forward and there are some challenges I'm already experiencing. I wonder about the future. I want to know how it turns out. I long to live it well.

I sat down and opened two cards that friends handed me tonight. The second contained closing words that brought encouragement and comfort in a powerful way:
"Now be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged...not because of us, or your community, or fruit in your ministry but...for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."

I don't feel fearless at the moment. I have many questions, actually. Though, I do want to step into this new season resting in Jesus and living out my belief that He holds all things in His hands. In some ways I am doing that already; as for everything else, I'll have to take it one day (or minute or second) at a time because frankly, I'm not sure how else to go about it.  Here's to stepping into the great unknown...

A Future Letter to My 33-Year-Old Self

Dear Self,

Ten years have passed since season 33 (and almost a half! You still celebrate it...). Looking back, there are several things I wish you could see about the future that would aid you in the place of pain you're currently sitting in. It's not that it has been eradicated from your life, but you've gained greater perspective (yet again). Remember how you used to think, "Wow, if only I could have told myself the things I know now in my twenties, I would have rested more in the process!"? Well, today, you're looking ahead to counsel yourself in the present with that very idea in mind. So please listen carefully.

Puzzles are meant to be taken out of boxes and put together on tables--people and circumstances are not puzzles for you to figure out. Let go.

You have come so far. God has met you time and again--His Gospel continues to shape and transform you into the image of Jesus. Press on.

Hope and desire are not your enemies. Jesus is inviting you into these places because He loves you. Remain in Him.

Your past has influenced who you are today (in helpful and harmful ways), but it does not define you. The healing that Jesus needs to accomplish is worth it--He's freeing you to believe what's true about who He made you to be so you can live from that reality. Receive it. Walk in it. 

He is good. He is faithful. He is trustworthy. He has confidence in you. He has only the best intentions toward you. He loves you. His plans for your life are astoundingly wonderful. He wants you to be free. He sees you. He is your Peace. He is your Helper. He is your Counselor. He is your Refuge. He is your Friend. He is the Lover of your soul. He is your Sovereign Lord. He is your Home.

Worship. Rest. Wrestle. Let Him hold your hand and lead you still deeper into the muck. You'll be so glad you chose in!!! I'm proud of you. I'm encouraged as I think about all that has come to fruition because you did not run away.

I love you very much,
You

He Saw Her

"When the Lord saw her, His heart overflowed with compassion. 'Don't cry!' He said. Then He walked over to the coffin and touched it, and the bearers stopped. 'Young man,' He said, 'I tell you, get up.'"

Luke 7:11-17 (NLT)

She'd lost everything. First her husband, and now, her son. Unlike the Roman Officer whose story we learn of just a few verses prior, she did not seek Jesus out. He found her. A large crowd was following Him, the passage tells us--to the village of Nain. The funeral procession was coming His way--a large crowd was also with her. In a way, the two groups collide and Jesus, He sees her.

I'm just sitting with that for a minute. He saw her.

Not only that, but when He saw her, His heart overflowed with compassion. 

A friend of mine looked up the definition of compassion as she studied this story this week. It spoke of deep empathy that moves one toward action. Here we see Jesus embodying the definition... He steps into her shoes and feels the reality of her story--He understands the depth of her loss and I'm certain, knows what's ahead for her in life without her son. At the time, a woman with no husband and no son had no way to provide for herself. Desolation. Poverty. Hopelessness. Death.

She had every reason for disappointment, grief and despair. But then, Jesus comes along and sees her; and His compassion moves Him to act. He wakes her son up and restores him to his mother. The Word says it plainly, "And Jesus gave him back to his mother."

In a moment, her whole story changed again. Hope was rekindled and life was revived while disappointment, grief and despair died. Those who witnessed it revered God, praising Him saying, "God has visited His people today."

I feel like that woman. Disappointment and the deaths that accompany it have weighed me down during what feels like a never-ending season. I long to hope and believe that He sees me and when He does, His heart overflows with compassion, but I'm still experiencing a disconnect. 

Fear and past rejections have dug roads in my soul that have been infiltrated with roots running so deep that if pulled, would bring absolute destruction. I want life, but I don't know how He can provide it with all that death in the way. It seems impossible, in fact, and my disappointment blinds me from seeing anything beyond what is in front of my face. 

Does He see me? Will His heart overflow with compassion for me? 

I hope.