Risky Business

Food bank volunteering was fun yesterday. I didn’t think it would be; I searched my brain, deep and wide, for an adequate reason to justify my absence. Then Christine, my hardworking coworker who servant heartedly coordinated the event, expressed her frustration with the heighty number of committed bodies that bailed. And I felt the good conviction to be true to my word and attend the service project. We packaged noodles, spirally ones, for three hours. I laughed, chatted, and sang Christmas songs (only the good ones) with my sweet friend Annie and kept my brain busy, distracting her from recognizing the dread of the incredibly tedious task.

Because I didn’t drive my dangerously eldery Opal Car I had fun carpooling to and fro. When I returned home, though, I couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason for my low emotional condition. I couldn’t help but bawl in the shower as I cleansed the film that comes from Northwest Harvest’s latex gloves and hair nets from my scalp and my hands. Eventually, though, through prayer and reliance on the Spirit, I realized why.

I rode with three young, beautifully single ladies who are either pregnant and/or already raising children, enduring the pain that comes from boys pretending to be men as they bear the growing title of “Single Mom.” Because I’ve not ever experienced the sex I enjoy talking about it and proceeded to ask embarassingly naiive questions to prove my immaturity. I asked of them and they of me (the lack thereof) and while I didn’t share the beauty of Christ with them in relation to our female need for affection which is culturally and sinfully resolved with intercourse, I have prayed hard, hoping that they will soon experience the reality and truth of God’s love for them, fulfilling their loneliness and excessive pain. Alongside the guilt I’ve felt for not harshly and carefully confronting them with the gospel to communicate my love for them in regards to the conversation, I have since yesterday become very angry at knowing that these friends that I love are burdened by their sin in this way, shielded from God’s grace, living lives betrayed but welcomed by Satan’s beloved darkness.

God has been incredibly good to me, mysteriously maintaining my physical purity up to this point. I can consider his goodness and strength because I don’t know how I’ve not run away in hopes of being wooed by a gent, giving him my flower, if you will (that was a shout out to Monica Gellar – but since I keep calling it that, “no one’s ever gonna take it!”). I’m one of those pathetic chicks with daddy issues; most of my kind run in the direction of seeking the attention and fulfillment from another as it was not given by her most vital male figure. God used my sin which was committed in the opposite direction by loathing the male race to guide my stubborn bones away from the penis, soon after softening my heart to Himself and desiring a good relationship with a man who will hopefully one day be my hub. While I am incredibly undeserving of God’s grace and kindness given to me in Christ Jesus I am therefore eternally grateful and will strive (with much failure, obviously) to honor Him and commit my obedience to His goodness.

I am heartbroken for those, in this case those gals I learned more about yesterday, who know not God’s goodness as I do. As I continue to pray hard for their souls and those of their children, I want to serve them faithfully at Doxa. I wish for them to attend our little church and experience the beauty of God’s grace as I have. The gospel is that which motivates me to live beautifully and to experience the wonderful joys I’ve faced amidst the suffering I’ve been given. I’m surrounded by a body of Christians to express God’s character unto me, strengthening me and encouraging me to fight for what is good and true and worth fighting for and I want terribly for others to join us.

Since I know not how to do so otherwise, this is my desperate plea for you who are reading this peculiar blog post to come to Doxa Community Church (http://www.doxacc.org/) and let us serve you as Scripture has best guided us.

Holiday-Hoobity-Whatty?

Christmastime, Christmastime, Christmastime. I can’t help but allow the overwhelming fear of failure in the region of gift giving dominate my thoughts whenever I remember that the month is currently December. But then I’m reminded that I get to make festive cookies and hang out with lady friends in the kitchen and this time of year is redeemed. Also, I invite friends to our Christmas services throughout the month and hope that the heavy effect of the beauty of Christ’s coming will be that which God uses to soften the hearts of sinners like me, graciously bringing them into his eternal kingdom.

I really do love Christmas. I love the jolliness, the candy, cookies, lights, trees, and mostly the gospel and it’s exuberance this time of year. I just hate presents. I mean, I’m a chick so I obviously love presets (he who gifts me a husband will get front row seats to our wedding; seriously you can sit in front of my parents) so by all means, please do not withhold them this year. But when it comes to blessing others with thoughtful, deliciously wrapped boxes of joy my brains cry and so do my eye balls. Much like no one else, gift giving is NOT an expression of my care for a person. I’d much rather hang out and have delightful, learning-more-about-you kind of convos while eating Mexican food, of course.

The Tuesday before Christmas will be our Community Group Christmas party, Gift Exchange included. Eff (that’s my attempt at communicating the frustration that is worthy of swear words but since I’m a lady and I love Jesus and want to honor him with my words, I’ll only pretend to swear because He doesn’t know my heart…eff). We decided who’d be gifting which friend with the drawing of stockings. I picked out Michael Posey’s stocking. The thought of deciding on what to buy with our ten dollar spending cap makes my mind dry, much of how it usually is but this time there's the added pressure in knowing that my intentions effect another. I did think it would be funny to give him Rogaine, just for kicks. But Morgan confirmed that that would be mean (she didn’t tell me it would be mean to publicize my idea, sorry Po).

Hopefully I’ll think of something good soon. Until then I’ll watch Jim Carrey’s ever-entertaining version of The Grinch. And pray.  

The Bruising Games

I started reading Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games last night and am having a hard time putting it down. In fact, I am currently struggling to allow the wittiness of my brains flow onto my laptop because I just want to get back to my book. I miss Katniss Everdeen (she’s the main character gal who tells me her story; her name alone makes her interesting) and want to know of what’s to happen in the upcoming pages.

I’ve not read a fictional novel in awhile – I think it's been since studying at Multnomah University – because I’ve allowed my friends’ love for reading theologies kind of influence mine and have found many benefits in learning from the theologians’ words that illuminate my understanding of scripture. But I finished the seventh chapter of this novel this morning and now I know why I usually leave them in the book store.

I’ve already encompassed many of Katniss’ character traits. Her bitter independence has influenced that which I immediately consider myself to be entitled to and I’ve found myself questioning my most careful authority figures. Usually I am thankful for the wisdom and truth others patiently guide me to but since hanging out with my little book I’ve not understood them to be caring and wise. I’ve allowed myself to become captivated, wrongfully relating with her battle for survival as though it was I who hunted my dinner.

I’ve been confronted with my weakness but I plan not to put away this book without finishing. Instead, I hope and plan to fight for a good balance of scripture and community to influence my true reality more heavily than the story. I don’t care to jump off the edge of complete foolishness, divulging in the sin of determining the instances my life by my lonesome, as though I were in control of all things as God is. While I am free to simply read a religious-less book without conviction, I shan't allow this liberty to lead me into the continued choosing of primarily poor affairs rather than those which are beneficial, kicking my affection for Christ to the curb.

I am thankful that God has used The Hunger Games to expose my extensive weakness that I might continue to run to Him as I am incredibly dependant upon his goodness. He is the Oak Tree, I am the baby reed that is so easily and rightfully bruised.

Bitter, Party of One

Pastor Brian preached a message on bitterness last Sunday and I again felt conviction’s sharp pinch on my hoarding heart. I knew he’d eventually come to the subject as we’ve been working through all kinds of emotional perceptions. I’ve been fearfully ready to be hit with what scripture has to say about it and as expected I fought the tears that proved that I’m the bitterest gal in the barn. I’m thankful for God’s merciful forgiveness but must continue to fight against the pleasurably comfortable place that my soul so loves to dwell.

I consider it no secret that I’m non confrontational. I don’t like to expose other people’s sin and I never want to be the friend who is always commenting on the imperfections of others and so I so easily overcompensate by avoiding the necessary means of communicating my perceptions, as done in a relationship that is healthy. Instead I practice a seemingly justified harboring of hateful thoughts toward the human who hurt my feelings.

Before God graciously softened my heart to His truth, exposing the reality of sin in my life that I may repent and run to Him I was an incredibly bitter young lady. I kept people at a distance and was convinced that avoiding friendships was better than acquiring some good ones. Since then I care not to sin against God (I still fail, but fight hard) and have hoped to be joyful more so than hateful. But pursuing relationships with people is still the hardest. While I’m forgiven for my failures I’m also forgetful and have recently reveled in the familiar feeling of the bitterness.

When people sin against me I choose to not grow in relationship with them but feel as though I should run far from that growth. I don’t like to hurt. I don’t like that I sin against others but I forget that I’m imperfect when others sin against me. So I willingly open the door when sin is knockin’ and hurt right back. Because two wrongs make a right, right? Ha, I can hear my mother saying, “Corianne Marie, two wrongs do not make a right!” Crap.  

God has been good to remind me that I’m sinful, that I’m not the best but that he in fact is; it is His righteousness that makes me righteous, His glory that is worth pursuing. And this sin, this one that I’m so prone to run to, will always be a battle. I need to understand these things so that I’m armed to fight for Christ. I am gifted to consider this lustfully temptuous feeling to be one that Ephesians compares wrath and clamor to. Dang. My lack of control and justice shan’t produce my resentment but shall instead influence my race toward Christ, the one I get to become like.

The Not So Lovely Bones

It’s already the fifteenth. Dang. That means it’s been thirteen days since I’ve last taken time to sit and consider my thoughts and evaluate my dark, little heart. That means that my efforts of journaling (which turn into blogging) have been neglected, obviously. And this lack of self evaluation, which I usually publicize with the intention of encouraging my friendly friends unto God’s goodness in the midst of my failure, has allowed my humanistic tendency to spiral downward, growing in pride and selfishness.

At Doxa Community Church 1082 Kirkland Avenue NE of Renton, Washington 98059 on Sunday Pastor Brian Morgan influenced my understanding of biblical zealousness. When he’d announced a few days previous that he’d be preaching on this emotion, communicated in the 119^th chapter of the Psalms, I considered only excitement for listening to that which Brian had to say as I am already a master of being passionate. Psh, hear that ridiculousness? So I instead faced the harshest conviction I’ve experienced in quite some time. Everyone is zealous for something, he told us and God was quick to reveal that I’m despicably more zealous for myself than I am for Christ. I love myself more; I do that which I consider to be most beneficial for self more so than I my desire to be obedient to God. I am quick to forget that His truth is abundantly more beneficial. As I sat and felt the pain of coming to understand this sin I’ve come to question my understanding of what I know to be beneficial. It is my own selfish heart that decides what is best for me. I am quick to decide for myself, slow to run to God in prayer for his most beautiful wisdom and am even slothlier (pretend that’s a real word) to allow scripture to influence my understanding.

God is so good to convict me, to allow me to know of my sin that I might repent and run back to him after trying for thirteen days to hide as though he knows not each intention of my heart. In the darkest moments of my proudest days I fight to love myself and He always brings me back. I deserve not his slightest graciousness but am immensely thankful for these ways that He continues to bruise me. His is my consistent truth, even when I flourish in foolishness.   

Anna Farris is a Genius

I have been confronted with much pain and struggle lately; the theme of that which is to be fought for amidst strife has been heavily dwelling on my brain. Sure, I face different degrees of hardship with my every day but the guidance which God has graciously opened my eyes to has allowed me to fight to serve Him, making said strife slightly less painful and mysteriously joyful.

I know not many humans who find happiness in things that hurt. We sprint hard from those the things. At least I do. I allow my emotional status to feed off of lowest, loneliest moments and experience not much joy in life’s many detriments. I feel, though, that with the help of those in my Doxa community, God has grown me a bit. Sunday sermons, book group meetings, discussions at community group, corporate prayer, and day to day conversations that exhibit God’s goodness have been powerful catalysts to my understanding of a continued effort to glorify God in the ordinary practices of my life.

I’ve lately been recognizing the way I sin against others, the ways others sin against me, and the ways that I sin against God.  The realization of my sin influences a deep sorrowful regret of choosing myself over God’s goodness. In those moments how might I imitate Paul in Colossians 1 and “rejoice in my sufferings?” I am not happy when I am sad. Duh. I think, though, that the sadness which comes from godly sorrow influences my heart’s efforts to be directed on Christ rather than darkness and there is much joy in Christ as it is his righteousness that purifies me and strengthens me to desire joyfulness. I am made able to find happiness in knowing that He grants me a heart that is repentant as He is gracious to reveal my weakness.

But I do a poor job of remembering my committed sin when others sin against me. I feel the pain of their selfish intention as though I’m less selfish (allowing my pride to flourish in the blasted consideration of being the best human). Because of Jesus' myseteriously beautiful act of imputing righteouesness I can look past the particular sin that has been committed against me, choose to forgive, and fight to see his perfection in the place of that sin. God doesn’t cover only my blemishes with his purity but does also every other person He has chosen and in an interesting scheme allows for their actions to be used for both their good and mine. He’s not only gifted me forgiveness from the sin I commit against Him but grants me the ability to grow into likeness of him and have a heart that is forgiving to others when they hurt me.

This beautiful truth is quite mysterious to me as I am the most impatient, least forgiving lady in all the land. I remember the yesterdays, proclaiming forgiveness while welcoming bitterness even after forgiveness was requested. While my heart is still hard and wayward in many ways, God has softened a few parts and I think I’m finally coming to understand this incredible attribute. Here’s to much prayer for the practice of being forgiving so that I don’t only understand and continue in sin. Just don’t tell anyone it has taken me twenty two years…

I Need Dead Deer

There’s a first for everything. For the first time I hit an innocent animal. Okay, that’s a lie in 3 ways. A) I didn't hit anything, Ryan was the driver; B) the animal wasn't innocent, it was his fault we hit him; and 3) I hit a crow one time on my way to

Bell Square

It was an idiot bird and I was on the freeway, unable to merge because there was a car on both my left and on my right and the little guy waddled out and did not fly away. I remember being so sad because it was very dead (I saw the fluff of it's exploding feathers in my rear view mirror) and alittle bitter because the bird was a fool for not flying away.

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After Community Group we ventured to the Q so that Ryan could purchase some groceries for his day off tomorrow so that he could, you know, eat food that isn’t fast. Little did he know he’d be eating deer! Just kidding, it didn’t die and we're not going to eat it. But Tayler FREAKED out, screaming like a girl. Usually when she screams in the car I fear that there is a dear we are about to hit so this time when she screamed my instant reaction was, “Tay, you know I think there’s a deer when you scream!” Ooops. Everyone, deer included, is okay and we’ll be laughing for awhile :)